Hey people's!! This is my new story: In The Arms Of a Killer. Basically it's about Vegeta being a serial killer. He has killed over 300 people before being caught. I borrowed the idea of the Witchblade from a really cool movie of the same name. Vegeta is the first male to have ever worn it, and he uses it to kill people.

Vegeta is very talented and intelligent. (As if we didn't know) He is very good with women, and kills lots of them, as well as men, and he tortures them and/or mutilates them. However, he never rapes a woman. Or a man for that matter. XP His next victim is supposed to be Bulma Briefs……However……Even a serial killer can find love in the most unlikely of places……

Disclaimer: This has not changed since I last did one of these. I don't own DBZ of the Witchblade……Or anything else I may decide to throw in here for a bit of spicing up. 8P

And if you don't like graphic scenes of violence/drug use, and/or lemons, I suggest you don't read this. Vegeta is a very disturbed individual in this story. Also, he has the same last name as in my other story Gekido Dance.


In The Arms Of a Killer

CHAPTER 1-Prologue

He waited in the shadows for his victim. Waiting until he was close, and could see the whites of his eyes, and smell the cheap cologne he was wearing. How pitiful.

The man peeked around the corner, careful not to be seen by his victim or anyone else. Good. There was no one else there. The smell of the cologne was stronger as he got closer, signaling it was time. He put on a scared face, and stumbled out in front of his victim from the alley. "Whoa!" The guy halted in his tracks. There was a strange looking man who jumped out in front of him. The strange man grabbed his arm in a cold vice-like grip. "Please……You gotta help! There! Back there! You gotta see!" He released his arm and started panting, as if he had been running a lot. His victim put down his briefcase. "Where?! What is it?!" He put a hand on the strange man's shoulder. "Back there!" He pointed into the alley. "Take a look. It's right down the end." The man stood on his tip-toes trying to see as far as he could down the dank, dark alley. "I can't see anything." "Come on. I'll show you." The killer ushered his chosen victim down the alley first. They passed bin and rubbish and decaying things off all sorts, until they reached a dead end.

"What is this? Some kind of sick joke? There's nothing here!" The man raised his voice. He heard an evil chuckle behind him. He spun around and found the man who had made him go down here standing in a rather intimidating position with one hand behind his back, looking at him from under his brow. The hollows of his eyes were covered in shadow, as was the arm behind his back and various other parts of his body. "W-What are you doing?" The man was starting to get scared now. This city was Reaper territory.

The Reaper was a serial killer who had killed over 300 men, and never been caught. Police had suspected that the body count was much higher, but the had only found around 300. The Reaper tended to mutilate his victims, making their death slow and torturous. However, coroners had found that with the women he killed, this was not the case. He seemed to have a bit more respect for them, and had piched a nerve in their neck, making their whole body numb to the pain, so they would not feel anything, but were still able to watch him slowly destroy their bodies. Coroners and forensic scientists had found that each of his female victims were very beautiful, and that he had slept with them before killing them. But he had not raped them. All victims were willing, which lead police to the conclusion that he must be very good with women, and had issued a whole city alert to women, especially ones who were walking around by themselves.

The Reaper had used a long blade of some sort, the metal was not something from this planet, as there was no matter on this planet with the same composition as this metal. The long blade was one of his many trademarks. In taunting letters to police, he had included pictures of this blade, which had turned out to be a metal glove, with a blade coming out of it. It was worn as a bracelet of some sort, and morphed into different weapons, including a sword, knife, glove and armour during critical times. In the letters, he had called it the "Witchblade", and had shown it's transformations to police on a video. However he was careful not to show his face.

The history of the blade is as follows:

(A/N: Information taken from the BladeTV.com website)

For thousands of years it has existed. An intelligent, symbiotic weapon of incredible power. A living gauntlet that becomes one with its wearer. The Witchblade: Only women of unmatched strength of mind, body and will, have ever successfully worn it. Its legacy has created a warrior bloodline back through time and forward into the future. Joan of Arc wielded the blade as did other great warrior women throughout the ages. But to wear the Witchblade is to be both its master and its servant, as this mysterious weapon draws to it what it needs and casts aside what it does not. Stirring to life at times of crisis -- during wars, famines, pestilence -- the Witchblade has been used to cut a swath of blood and viscera through the ranks of previously insurmountable evil. For decades it has lain dormant, but now in the early days of the 21st century, the Witchblade has chosen a new bearer of its power……and its curse.

The Reaper was the first male to have ever been able to wear it. He was a direct descendent of Joan of Arc. And he was also the first one to have ever be able to use the blade for evil. He had complete control over it.

When the short but intimidating man took his right hand away from behind his back, and out of the shadows, the man knew that he was standing face-to-face with the deadly Reaper himself. There was no way of getting out of this one.

The Reaper raised the metal glove into the air, the rays of sunlight glinting off it, and it began to morph. A thick silver blade that was about the length of his forearm made itself known, as it sprung out from about the point of his wrist on the glove. There was a rounded half circle-like object that protruded just above his index and middle fingers' first knuckles. As the circle was hit by the light, it opened up. In actual fact, the part that was seen on the outside, was just a protective covering for what lay inside. In it, was the biggest and most beautiful blood red ruby you had ever seen. It was like the heart of the glove. It controlled the Witchblade's hidden powers. It was also visible on the bracelet that was worn most of the time. It was the ruby set in a silver casing, with vine like silver bars that wrapped around each other and held the bracelet to your wrist. It was impossible to get it off your wrist if you were chosen. You had to past the Periculum, which was a test where the wielder goes into a dream-like state and is visited by bladeweilders of the past who would question you to test your worthiness. If you didn't pass this test, you would die. The blade was elaborate in it's design. If you didn't know what it was capable of, you would think of it as very beautiful.

The man cowered at the Reaper's feet. "Please! I beg you! Don't kill me! Please!" Tears had come to his eyes. "I have no mercy. Mercy is for the weak. I kill without remorse. And you shall die a gruesome death." The Reaper's cold gravelly voice sent shivers down his spine. This is the way you imagine all killers would be. Like the one's in the movies. But this killer, this Reaper, was far more terrifying than any movie could ever make him.

"P-please. I have a family. Don't kill me!" The guy was openly crying. "Bah. Foolish man. What makes you think I won't kill you just because you have a family? In fact, I think it would be quite entertaining to see your family beg for their lives as I slit your 17 year old daughter's throat and hang her upside down on a butchers hook, make some insicions in her abdomen and watch her innards fall onto the floor. Quite entertaining indeed, Mr. Jackson." The Reaper cruelly laughed at the Mr Jackson's horrified and disgusted expression. "H-how do y-you know about m-my daughter? A-And h-how did you know m-my name?" Mr. Jackson stuttered.

"I'm very intelligent you see. I do a lot of research." He tapped the blade against his head. "I make sure I cover my tracks. I don't leave any trace of where I have been. I'm smart like that. And I don't have any particular reason why I kill people either. I was never abused, or treated badly. I just felt like killing someone. So I did, and I wanted more. Now Mr Jackson, I have had enough of you……"

The Reaper raised the Witchblade up into the air, bringing it down in a wide arc. Mr Jackson closed his eyes, waiting for the tearing, burning and stinging pain that was to come. He felt a small gust of wind blow past his face, but no pain. He opened one eye cautiously, and then the other. There was no one there. Where had he gone? The terrified Mr Jackson stood up shakily. He let out a sigh. Had he imagined it all? Or was he the first man to ever escape the Reaper's icy clutches of seemingly endless pain and torment? He didn't wait around to find out. He started making his way to the entrance of the alley, twisting and turning through the pathways. Where was it? Was he going the right way? His breathing was laboured.

There! Up ahead! He could see the bright light of the city street in front of him. He reached out as he stumbled, trying to grasp the light. A dark figure stepped out from the shadows on the side of the building. He couldn't make out who it was. "Look. I've had it up to about here with-…" He was cut off. "Now now now. You didn't think I'd actually let you get away did you Mr. Jackson? I told you I was going to kill you. And I always live up to my word…"

His chilling voice made the hairs on the back of Mr. Jackson's neck stand up. "Oh shit……"He wasn't free after all. He should have know that this sadistic, cold hearted killer would want to play a bit of cat and mouse. He enjoyed seeing people cowering in fear and trying to get away. Mr Jackson could see nothing but the silhouette of the killer, armed with the Witchblade. He raised his arm, pointing the tip of the blade at him, forcing the man back down the alley a bit further, around a corner, so no one could see what was happening. He pushed the man against a wall. "Please. Don't do this. I…I can help you. I can get you money, drugs, weapons, whatever. Just don't kill me…please!" He begged. "Weapons huh? What kind?" The Reaper asked curiously. "Revolvers, shotguns, uzi's, plastic explosives, knives. You name it, I can probably get it. A buddy of mine illegally imports them. He also does drugs too. I can get some for you if you want." He quickly blurted out. He could see the Reaper's eye twitch at the possibilities. "Have you got any now? Weapons I mean?" He held his shirt tightly. "Yes! Take this!" The man reached into his pocket and took out a key. "This is the key to my briefcase. There is some stuff in it." He gave the key to the Reaper.

"Wait here." The command was said painfully slow, making it clear to Jackson that if he moved, there would be no escaping a horrible fate. The man who held him let go and quickly went to fetch the case. He returned moments later with the case in his left hand, so as not to get in the way of the blade, lest he need it. He sat the case on the ground and stuck the key in the lock turning it. Unbeknownst to him, there was nothing in the case. It was just a lie so Jackson could get his gun out. "Hey! There's nothing in here! Why you little…" The Reaper started to stand up. The Witchblade was able to deflect bullets easily, but the Reaper wasn't quick enough to put it in front of himself, so the bullet hit him in the chest.

A loud gunshot could be heard in the street, and nearby police officers ran to where they thought it came from. A buisiness man stumbled out of the alley, falling into one of the officers, who helped him stand up. The man's shirt was splattered with a bit of blood. "Help……Reaper……Back there……" He managed to get out before passing out. The officers called for backup and an ambulance, before drawing their guns and going into the alleyway, after the elusive Reaper. What they saw shocked them. There was the almighty Reaper, blood seeping through his dark clothes, laying on the ground unconscious, with a gaping bullet wound in his chest. However, there was no weapon but the gun in sight. Where was his weapon? He always used that Witchblade thing. But it had vanished. What they didn't know was that the Witchblade had gone back to its bracelet form, so as not to be taken from it's chosen weilder.

Two ambulances arrived along with a couple of police cars, ready to assess the damage. They were shocked too at the scene. They loaded the Reaper's unconscious form onto a stretcher, hooking him up to all sorts of equipment, and restraining him with handcuffs on each side of it. He was then taken to a nearby prison hospital.


Vegeta Williams, aka. The Reaper, was jolted from his dream/nightmare. It was his biggest failure yet. How could he have been so stupid to have somewhat trusted the little dickhead? He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

It had been 4 years since his first day in this joint. Scarlet Lake Maximum Security Prison. The meanest, toughest place you could ever be sent. No one had ever escaped from this prison. It was like a stronghold. So Vegeta had to quickly establish his position of power. Although, it was easy convincing the weaker prisoners to follow him, it took a bit of time to convice the others. The weak little guys had basically cowered at his feet, once they found out who he was. Around these parts, he was a bit of a legend. It was when it was shower time that he managed to make believers out of the bigger, tougher men who had been in here for quite some time.

3 of them, during shower time, had decided they needed a "release", so they thought it would be fun to pick on the new guy. One of them "accidently" knocked Vegeta's soap off the shelf, expecting him to bend

over to pick it up, but he didn't. He just grabbed the soap out of another shower stall, and continued cleaning himself. The men, now angry, had had enough of him. They pressed Vegeta against the wall, planning on raping him. But things didn't go acording to plan. Vegeta's elbow shot out, catching one man in the stomach, making him bend over, gasping for air. He brang his knee up, and smashed it into his face, making quite a bit of blood go everywhere. The guy flopped to the ground, unconscious.

"Who's next?" Vegeta beckoned to them with his finger. As they both lunged for him, he thrust both hands out, catching them in the jaw. He spun around, and grabbed his dog-like prisoner id tag from the showerhead, and wrapped it around one guys neck, eventually choking him to death, and he crushed the other man's ribcage with a powerful foot stomp.

He put his id tag back over the showerhead and resumed cleaning, washing all the blood off himself. The rest of the prison population who were in the showers at the time cheered him on and clapped. No one liked those guys, they picked on others just because they were stronger. Now Vegeta was labled a hero for these other murderers/serial killers/rapists and other criminals. This was also the day Vegeta was put in solitary confinement, and given another year and three months tagged onto his sentence.

When Vegeta was deemed safe enough to go back with the rest of the prison populace, they started off by introducing him to the little shy guy, who was in here for serial killings. He was to share a cell with him.

Over the next year or two, Vegeta and the the little guy, whose name was found to be William MacDonald became close friends. Vegeta protected him like a little brother against the other men that could take advantage of him. Everyone knew that if you messed with Lil' Will, you messed with the Reaper.

(A/N: William MacDonald was Australia's worst serial killer dude. He killed guys, cut off their dicks and "used" them……Don't ask. I just used the name. Not all us Aussies are that demented ^.^ )

Vegeta was William's idol. He wanted to follow him in his footsteps. But Vegeta wouldn't let him. He said it was too dangerous for a guy like him.

Eventually the time had come. Through some inside and outside contacts, Vegeta had made a plan to escape. He told Will about it, and the 20 year old didn't want him to leave. He told him it was too risky and that he would be lonely and unsafe without him. William was also a bisexual, and sometimes he had romantic feelings towards Vegeta, but he knew that it would never be possible, as Vegeta only cared for him like a little brother. When the night that he was to breakout came, William grabbed Vegeta by the shirt and softly begged him not to leave. When Vegeta told him he had to, he nearly burst into tears.

Vegeta told him that he needed to get out. This place was slowly driving him insane. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and he needed to escape. The urge to kill was overwhelming. He said that one day he would come back and get him out of here, but for now he must go.

Vegeta loosened the bars on the window, but was stopped by a tugging on his shirt. The teary eyed William handed him a piece of paper. "What's this?" Vegeta asked as he took the note. "I-It's where t-they put your W-Witchblade." He sniffed. Inside was a clipping from a newspaper. It was the Museum of Crims, Con Artists, and Killers. It had a large range of things that belonged to famous killers of the past and present. As well as things from other criminals and less well known people. Their new exhibit was none other than the Witchblade.

It sat there in the display case in it's gloved form in the photo. Vegeta was angered. How dare they take what is not theirs! Although, the article describing the Reaper wasn't too bad. It gave him a sense of importance. He put his hand on Will's shaking shoulder. "Listen to me well, as this is the only time I will say this. Thank you friend. You may be the only one who I will ever trust." Will's eyes watered with pride, and he latched his arms around his heroes waist. "Thank you so much! It's an honour. You don't know how much this means to me." His muffled voice sobbed, wetting Vegeta's orange prison jumpsuit with his tears. He patted him on the head. "I have to go now. Or I'll never get out if I'm late." William stepped away from him, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and nodded.

Vegeta gave him a quick smirk, before jumping out the window, to the ground below. William saw Vegeta's compact figure slinking quickly and quietly through the dark prison courtyard, dodging the searchlights with an expert ease. When he could see his hero no longer, he whispered into the air. "Good luck. And farewell my friend. I hope you don't get caught. We all know the punishment for trying break out of here……" And with that, he climbed back into his cot, dreaming of a perfect world where he and his hero could be together.



Was the headline in the morning paper. Vegeta laughed his head off as he scoffed down pancakes, bacon and eggs, and a large cup of coffee that his older brother had made for him. His brother, Nappa, had the IQ of a flea, but he was a hell of a good cook. And great at getting him out of prison. Vegeta slapped him on the arm. "Damn. I missed this!" He laughed as he pointed at the food. "Hah! Anything for you little bro! I'm always happy to cook for you!" He told him as he began to eat his share of the food. The two men had very large appetites, and therefore had financial difficulties. So Nappa worked as a successful drug dealer, and now had made quite a lot of money in the years Vegeta was in prison. The apartment was decorated in a fine number of expensive items, and Vegeta loved it. "Man. I been missing out on a lot!" He exclaimed after finishing his food and taking a look around the place.

"Sure have! Here. Have some. It's the best stuff on the market." Nappa tossed him over a joint and a lighter. Vegeta lit it and took a puff, as Nappa studied the article about the Witchblade he had given him. "Fuck. You're right. This is good." Vegeta lazily flopped back on the comfy couch. "Oh yeah. That's good. That's the spot. Ahhhhhhh……" He closed his eyes after taking another puff and relaxed in the soft cushions. The prison cots were hard, lumpy, and sometimes damp, so a comfortable couch like this was luxury for him. The two brothers in crime spent the day lazing around and smoking joints. Needless to say, they got high.

1 week was the hiding time Vegeta had set, before he would go out and look for a new victim. This week was up, and it was time to kill again……


Well. How do you like the first chappie? It didn't take me long to write this, it took a few hours compared to my usual few days/weeks. My cat Mushi was chewing my finger just now. It smells funny O.O" I think I'll go wash it. See you guys later and don't forget to R&R!!…………………Yuck……Cat spit…*shivers*