Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball/Z/GT.
He was beginning to get impatient when the brown door to the private office creaked open and revealed a man with a pale face, big, gold eyes, and long green hair. No words were exchanged, but the smaller man in the hallway entered nonetheless. Behind a desk, sitting in a high-backed chair was a smaller, slender figure. They were staring out of a window.
"I have a job for you."
A folder slid across the dark wood. His dark eyes surveyed the pictures blankly.
"Don't make it look like a hit. Be discrete, if you are at all capable of doing so."
Isn't this the Briefs girl?
She was unmistakable. That blue hair. With a quick nod, the mercenary turned on his heel and strolled quickly out.
"Chi-Chi wants to meet for lunch. You in?"
"Why do you ask? I have to follow you, Bulma; it's kinda my job."
"I know, but last time-"
"Won't happen again. I'll be sure to keep my trap shut this time."
It was good thing he was a patient man. Well, mostly. The tracking was the worst part. Sitting in cars and cafes, trying to look inconspicuous and inconsequential, listening intently without giving away he was following them. The sneaking, at this point in his life, was second nature. It was the listening that bothered him. Sometimes he got some good, interesting information, and his boss would reward him doubly if it was worth his while. But the Briefs girl? No. If she wasn't a renowned scientist, a lead engineer of Capsule Corporation, Vegeta would have been positive she didn't have an ounce of sense in her blue head. Everything she talked about was banter, pointless banter, and her moron of a security guard just smiled and nodded. The mercenary had a problem taking the towering man seriously; bulky or not, the guy was a dunce. And he was supposed to be protecting the most famous woman this side of the globe? Fantastic. Just made his job easier.
He was sitting in his car now, a simple, black, two-door sedan with no unique markings and a fake license plate, parked just outside of a clothing store. The audio transmitter he had attached to the woman's purse was successful, and he was listening to the conversation via an earpiece in his right ear. The book held in front of him was completely ignored, even though he turned the page occasionally. Eyes closed and a bored expression on his face, Vegeta reached deep into his mind and gripped what little patience remained.
God, but the woman could talk.
"How does this one look?"
"Gee, Bulma, I really dunno why you're asking me. I'm not good with this kinda thing."
One of the hardest parts was staying focused on the task at hand,
"I need a man's opinion, Goku, and you're a man. I mean, I already know it looks good, but I want to know what a guy thinks."
especially since he was fairly sure the blue-haired vixen was in a lingerie store.
"Well, if you already know it looks good, why do you need my opinion?"
However, the man was accustomed to ignoring his baser thoughts,
"Because I want to know I'm irresistible."
even when those baser thoughts were on slender legs that stretched for days, or the curving hips the led to.
"Aw, c'mon, Bulma, you already know you're pretty. Just pick the one you think he'll like."
No, he thought of the gun he would need to hit a target at 140 meters with a 10 mph wind and the angle at which he would have to aim to carry the bullet just so.
"Hm… I think the red one. It really looks nice with my hair."
He ran through his list of pressure points on the human body that would incapacitate or even kill an attacker.
"Can we leave now?"
He thought of what he would scavenge for dinner. Pizza, maybe.
"Yeah, I just need to make one more stop, okay?"
He turned a page, glanced around calmly for signs of someone else watching him.
Anything but those legs.
Most of the information on the girl, her guards, her family, and her close relations had already been gathered. Bulma Briefs wasn't exactly a private person. She was adventurous, rambunctious, opinionated, genius, and vain. This didn't leave much to be wondered about her, except for a regular schedule. Being the face of Capsule Corp, the Briefs girl went to meetings across the globe on a semi-regular basis.
But once a week, every Tuesday, she went with her father to deposit money into the First Bank of West City.
Don't make it look like a hit.
The doors flew open: cue Bulma Briefs in all of her glory, trailed by the less-than-discreet Goku Kakarot. Everyone in the building knew and loved the two of them, and her arrival was expected. The teller grinned as the heiress sauntered up to him, clad in three inch heels and her favorite pink summer dress; she wore her hair down today with bangs that covered her forehead.
"Hello, Ms. Briefs," he said. She flashed a dazzling smile.
"Hello, Rory. Long time, no see." She winked. He blushed.
"Yeah, well, it's been a while since they've given me a Tuesday shift." He took the check she slipped across the counter to him and started the process of depositing it into the Capsule Corp. account. The door opened and somebody walked in, but he took no notice. Just another patron, probably. "Where's your dad? He's usually with you."
Bulma waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, he got all absorbed in this new project and said he couldn't bear to leave it right now."
"Cool. What's he wor-"
Everyone flinched, many screamed. Goku automatically grabbed Bulma and pulled her down and behind him, using himself as a shield. Rory covered his head and slinked away from the counter; he looked left, and found his coworker, Michelle, staring unseeingly up at him, blood oozing down her forehead from a single bullet hole. The figure that had walked in, whom he now realized was wearing a painter's mask, sunglasses, a hat, and a hoodie, stormed to his window and slammed a bag in front him. "Fill it," the person said as he aimed his gun at a dark-haired woman cowering on the floor. "Or she dies."
Rory paled. "I-I can't do that," he stammered.
"Because I think you can." The man cocked his gun, aimed it at Bulma. "Cash, please."
He was frozen with fear. He tried to make it look like he was going for the drawer, instead reaching for the panic button. The man's arm swung around towards him.
Two consecutive shots whizzed by on either side of the teller's head. "Don't do that." Nodding, Rory gave up and started filling the bag with all the cash he had in his drawer. Goku saw his opportunity to take the distracted robber out, and lunged.
Somehow, he was expecting it, and instead of shouting in surprise when the 5'11'' man hit him, the robber grabbed him, twisting his body as he grabbed Goku's ribcage and threw him to the ground. The armed man spun then, turning on Bulma, who gasped and felt her eyes widen with a horrible realization.
She was going to die.
A single shot rang out, and the heiress squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the pain that accompanied a bullet, but it never came. Instead, there was a low shout of pain, the sounds of something falling to the floor; Bulma opened her eyes and saw the assailant getting onto his feet from a kneeling position. A red stain was growing on the floor by his feet. He growled, a strange and animal sound, and aimed the gun at her again. There was a second shot, and the man's left side jolted, sending a red spray out of his side and a howl from his throat. Finally, he turned to face his shooter, aiming the gun in the general area of her savior, when the grounded Goku clamped onto his leg, pulled, and sent him sprawling.
The guard's massive fist came hurtling down towards the back of the stranger's head; he rolled, and Goku's knuckles crashed into the granite floor. The man lunged at Goku, catching him in the chest and tackling him to the ground, but the bigger of the two used the momentum to gain the upper hand and pinned his opponent by the throat. When desperate hands couldn't get the vice grip from around his throat, he brought a knee into Goku's groin.
Free from the guard, the robber staggered to his feet, ripped the bag of money from the teller's hands, and left at a dead run from the scene of the crime. The man who had shot the assailant, the one with a black skullcap and a small handgun, chased after him.
I'm alive, Bulma thought in amazement, her heart thudding in her chest. I'm alive.
The large man rolled his eyes but didn't stop his work. He twisted the tweezers slowly, trying to pry the bullet from where it had housed itself, but his hand shook slightly. The smaller man howled again and threw one solid fist at his "doctor's" jaw. The bald man's head snapped to the left before his own right hook slammed into his patient's kidney; he stopped fighting, now too concerned with the pain in his back. While he had a chance, he pulled the tweezers –albeit rougher than he originally would have– and freed the embedded bullet.
Vegeta roared, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. "When I find that sonofabitch that shot me I'm going to pull his lungs out through his ass." Nappa chuckled.
"One thing at a time, I think," he said, examining the hole on the back of Vegeta's right thigh. "You're lucky this didn't hit an artery."
The younger of them sighed and slowly pulled off his black t-shirt, though not without some difficulty, to reveal a second wound beneath his left shoulder blade. "Get this goddamned thing out of me, Nappa, and do it quickly. It hurts." Nappa shook his head but set to work, pushing the broken skin apart and easing the tweezers into the wound; Vegeta tensed, though he stayed quiet. Until, of course, Nappa found his target and tried to pull. Then, he cried out.
"Vegeta, I told you, I have painkillers-"
"No, just get the fucking bullet without taking a bone with you, alright?"
"Well, if you would quit bitching and let me work-"
"I'm not bitching, I'm in pain, and I'm stuck with an old man with tweezers and shaking hands to do the job-"
"I am not old!"
"You're almost sixty, you're old."
Instead of replying, the old man ripped the bullet from Vegeta's ribs. The pain only fueled his anger, and he once again, turned to plant a fist firmly on Nappa's nose, but a massive fist caught the attack. Vegeta scowled at him and opened his mouth to say something when a knock interrupted him. The injured man stood to answer the door, and his massive friend marveled at his ability to ignore pain when necessary and walk without a limp; Vegeta wouldn't show the weakness of a wound if he could avoid it. The younger mercenary glanced through the peephole in his apartment's door, grunted, and undid all six locks. He turned without opening the door, but the guest entered anyways. Nappa nodded to them.
"Ah, I see you have company," Cui said snidely, glancing around Vegeta's place and then at the man himself; he took note of the bleeding wound on his exposed back and thigh and smirked.
"What do you want, Cui?" Vegeta snapped. He grinned.
"Frieza's pissed that you botched the hit."
"I didn't botch anything; some piece of shit shot me twice, in case you didn't notice."
"You failed to kill your target; in Frieza's eyes, you botched it. Now you're on thin ice."
Vegeta rolled his eyes. "What else is new?" Cui scowled.
"You ought to take this more seriously, Vegeta," he said in a low voice. "Frieza won't tolerate another mistake."
"Is that why you're here, Cui?" he asked in mock interest. "You've been promoted from Boot-licker to Messenger; congratulations. Now get the hell out of my apartment before I decide you're trespassing." Cui snarled, then saw the spattering of red on a towel in Nappa's hands, and grinned maliciously.
"Might want to get those looked at, Vegeta," the purple-haired intruder quipped, then turned on his heel and left. Vegeta frowned and locked the door after him.
It was amazing that, even after an attempt on her life, the heiress could be so care-free. She even went outside unguarded. Lucky for him.
Vegeta watched her through the scope of his rifle; he lay on his stomach on the roof of a two-story building across the street from Capsule Corp. He had a clear view into the backyard of the massive, domed building, and subsequently, of a bikini-clad, sunbathing Bulma Briefs. Fuck Frieza's orders. He'd said try, and Vegeta had. Now, he would do it his way.
The wind was blowing diagonally from behind him.
He inhaled, exhaled slowly; his index finger tightened.
A/N: Hey guys, so I've started a new series. It'll be another short one, only five chapters, but the updates will be freaking long. This is the shortest one, not even joking/exaggerating. I'd like to have a beta reader for this, just for opinions and whatnot, so if you're interested, just say so in a review.
No, I haven't killed How It Should Have Been. I don't have writer's block; my brain is too cluttered with several stories, and I can't focus, so I'm purging my brain and reorganizing it. Hopefully, that'll help.
Anyways, this is for the Fairytale Challenge on the Blue and Black Livejournal community. The prompt is the title of the chapter. Please review, I'd really appreciate it. And no. That's not a typo. This chapter is complete.
You'll understand when you review. XD