Notes: Warning: Adult situations contained within, well, in the story, not in the warnings section; adult situations such as sex, violence, gore, swearing, and the author having too much fun with formatting functions. Also be WARNED about lurking allusions to occult type stuff; yeah, me much good words use.

Silent and sleeping the city was, like the man lying stunned on the bed, so unaware the world around them and the true nature of the mortal plane and the reality beyond their moronic little lives. The singular figure looked out from the seventh storey window with utter contempt, her fingers lightly playing with the small pendant around her neck. Two swords sheathed through a pair of linked rings, the bonds of the sisterhood; forged by fire and tempered like steel, chains only growing stronger under strife. What loyalty this symbol inspired among her Succubine sisters, the friendships and oaths that united the female demons existing until the end. But as always, the end came too soon, one damn Saiyajin male against the entire multitude, everything they could muster and still they had been defeated, and Damia's vow to dispose the leader of Hell became horribly twisted into a vow of service. Her sacrifice was still not in vain, as it was written by the great wise women of the Sisterhood, 'if you can't beat them, join them, then beat them'. Slowly by slowly she had been building her power back, and winning the favours of her Master's troops until they became putty in her hands, all but two. And now she had power to destroy one of them through the control of the other. What strange places revenge and duty will take one, she thought, looking out at the sleeping city.

The hustle and bustle that went from afternoon to late into night was but a memory now, the only lingering signs of life found in the street lights that bathed the ground with their haunting glow. This world and realm, so different from the stank pit she now knew as home, had been all she had to call home since her armies defeat and her banishment into the depths of the nether world, not that the alternate hell which she had occupied had been a paradise. It was like all the levels of hell, full of screams of remorse and agony, a pit of degradation and shame, nothing like this, all that pain replaced with this wondrous, living place, full of the sounds of joy, every emotion and existence imaginable. Up here was the world of light, and at any moment all of it could be wiped out, the life, these technological achievements, the mortal plane itself if the master ever chose to strike. So blind these humans were, for all that they possessed the light; the only thing that kept them from descending into the master's realm was celestial law, and even that was easily side stepped. What difference did it make, humans were halfway into the mouth of hell anyway, but then, they always had been. Much better it was to be demon, your place set and purpose known, eternally good or evil, free will inconsequential. So pathetic the living were, by far too delicate, and, looking over at the bed, very lacking in that respect as well. She had hardly gone nine minutes before he passed out; a complete waste of her time, why, she couldn't even get a proper feed out of him, let alone any kind of sexual gratification. Nothing like the Master or that cocky Saiyajin, even the expression on his face when she stripped told her he was barely keeping it together, a quality that seemed universal amongst the male species, though with the males of her kind could provide a better time than this. He wasn't even worth effort to kill but at least she got something out of the venture, grabbing the leather wallet the idiot had flaunted to her earlier. This would get her far indeed, and once she found her little Prince, how she would get some real satisfaction, if she found him. That blasted Saiyajin, in the three days since their last encounter she had not found him, or seen hide nor hair of him, not that it would be an easy task anyways. As unusual Vegeta's hair and appearance were even he could go unnoticed in a city of millions if he wished; he knew all the tricks of hell, every method to cloak one's form, to use illusion, mental telepathy, all avenues of finding him were closed, all but the woman. Blue hair, blue eyes, a face like an angel; would not be hard to track down someone like that and where the woman was, Vegeta was surely to be nearby. Don't go near the woman he says, bastard; she would do whatever she wanted and use whatever means she saw necessary, because now her only option was linked to the woman. Silly men, no matter the age, means, species; they could always be lead around by a pretty face and a nice figure, even the Master and Vegeta. Every creature had a weakness, and now, she knew both men's weakness, and it was contained within the same vessel; ha ha, the pure one, well one of them, an old legend, she couldn't believe they still existed.

Ba, the infinitesimal developments in the balancing act of order and chaos, good and evil was not of her concern; and opening the thick leather lips of the unconscious man's wallet, her eyes lit up like a star. She had her exploitable weakness, and now a means to exploit it. If there was one thing she could appreciate about these humans, it would be their understanding of greed. She had never seen a species that worshipped and deified the utter desire of want into a single entity so well that they adored the symbol of their greed above all others in the heavens and below. The two dozen bills and shiny sheets of plastics were her ticket, definitely enough to hire some help with the girl, there must be hundreds of Earth dwelling demons willing and eager to help her, for a price. Damia's mind continued to whirl and revel in her plan, and the possibilities now before her; it would take two days or more to find that kind of help, but nothing said she couldn't enjoy the fruits of her labours. Gathering up her clothes, the man's wallet, watch, ring and briefcase, she leafed through the various papers, using her talents to melt and shape the plastic of the cards to read a more feminine name. Swiping her finger across every magnetic strip, she reamed what she could until the whole man's financial status was imprinted in her head. The first tints of dawn were touching the sky when she began to finally dress, pondering the chances of stealing a breakfast from the man as well when a light groan brought her attention back to the bed. Slipping the sheet off her body, she sauntered over to the waking figure like a femme fatale, all the while her face glowing like the very picture of innocence.

"Up already, it's not even dawn yet." Damia replied, feigning exhaustion, her fingers tracing whatever part of his shoulder and chest was exposed, her actions rewarded with a sleepy smile. Giving her a good look over, the man propped himself up on one elbow as his own hand traced out the inside of her thigh.

"Just a little bundle of energy, aren't you? Ready for another round?" The stroking hand on her thigh started moving upwards. She only nodded her approval as he threw off the sheet and lunged at her. His mouth was on her neck and his hand at her chest as he entered her, showing no control or care for the woman beneath him as he took his pleasure from her body. The demon in human guise only smiled, every thrust giving her more of the human's strength, the energy flowing from that mortal body into her own. She too hungrily feasted on the body above her, taking all that was given to her, and even what was not. It didn't take any more than five minutes this time before he cried out his release and collapsed on top of her; Damia laughing wickedly with a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat plastered to her face. Panting a moment or two, she finally wiped the smile off her face, sneering at the man who had once again passed out and pushed him off, frantically brushing his essence from her person. Hurrying into the bathroom, she scrubbed her skin clean and dressed before she finally gave any attention to the sleeping human. Picking up the wallet once more, she flipped through the various slips of cards until she came to one item that struck her more than any other.

"Beautiful wife and kids you have there; I wonder if they know where their father was tonight?" Her voice harsh, with a touch of bitter humour added for good measure. Her eyes held no emotion as she flipped a picture of a man, woman and two young girls in happier times on the bed before she walked out of the room.

***

The cold wind washed across his furrowed brow, the sensation sharp and crisp, reminding him that he was alive; it truly was the small things that made the biggest difference. Five years that he spent in that sweltering, horrific prison he never once felt a wind, nothing but thick sulphuric fumes assaulting his sense, how he had wished for life at those quiet times. In those moments, more than any other, he wished to walk once more in the mortal place, just so he could feel something other than burning pain or corrupted existence. He was given the freedom of his power, forever to keep the form he possessed in life through the eternity of his death, but still he was not free, free like this, and in smug triumph, he let the evidence of his birth right flare around him even brighter.

Even in the pitch darkness around him his keen eyes could make out the changing terrain below, the buildings and signs of civilisation gradually disappearing into the peaceful silence of nature. Drifts of snow which covered the sparse trees and hinterland glowed white against the inky black earth, lighting the ground like a beacon towards the unknown, or back into that sulphur filled pit. He was chasing a legend, a story, a rumour, a fabrication born one day of too much wine and an over-active imagination, but then, hadn't those who mocked Bardock believed his tales to be the same thing.

Long ago, in his first hour, minute, month in hell, time held no bounds or structure in such a place, he was told the myths and stories of old, tales of the great wars and struggles of long ago. Back many aeons ago, the underworld had been a place of chaos, internal chaos, every level at war with the other. The shattering time, they called it, when demons, gods, and the creatures that sliver on their bellies warred against each other, the Styx running red with blood; the very structure of hell splitting apart. The history that was born from that time was long and sordid, a fragile order established between the seven plateau of the underworld, a triumvirate of the upper, middle and lower hells. Not that stability was complete or order ever absolute, intrigues and politics were as much a part of this hierarchy of hell as in Freeza's court; there had been talk for months amongst the others of his 'Master's' charge that spoke of the coming conquests. It was only a matter of time before the Lord of the Lower Hells gathered enough power and resources to crush the demon lords above. Everything the creature did was thoroughly thought out and every risk calculated, even this own defection would be a blow only mildly felt, he had already sent in Damia to pick up the pieces, and another to retrieve the girl. Pure soul, all this effort over a pure soul housed in a woman that appeared to the eyes as an Earth bound angel, a bride and queen to stand by that demon's side in that unholy nightmare realm. No, there had to be more, there was a grander plan, or scheme behind this wish, he needed to know and to learn, to find answers from a legend himself, Stalaunt.

It was said he saw existence in its first moments when the chaos split into order and further into heaven, hell and the mortal place, and since that time he had spent his existence wandering about, cataloguing every thing he had heard and seen, like a demonic Plutarch and Aristotle. A demon who knew all things, wisdom and magic beyond the great wizons or the archangels and fates of heaven, every action, word or happening: it said that a leaf doesn't fall without him knowing. He had grown so powerful in the ways of magic and manipulation that he could hear the deep inner thoughts in a being's head, and could gain completely control with nothing more than the power of his mind. Whether such a tale was true he could say, but soon after the newest regimes were established, the great sage left the regions of the nether world altogether. It took the Saiyajin Prince almost a week to discover his whereabouts, but several cracked skulls later he had weeded out a location, two hundred miles north of the city, a small cave at the foot of a mountain. What was he doing, taking a chance like this which he could ill afford; he should be organising a battle strategy, guarding the woman, hunting down Damia, not on this wild chas … . Even over the blare of the wind he heard it, the crunch of snow under foot and whispered voice, the word pattern resembling something he had only ever heard amongst the ancient monks and priest of the demonic orders. He slowed then, stopping his flight altogether and hung in the air, straining his seven sense throughout the surrounding woods for another sign. The hibernating forest beneath creaked and groan as the wind whipped the frozen branches and he heard it again, a distinct foot step and a snapped twig. Turning towards the sound another whisper tugged at his hearing, this time two voices could be heard speaking in a tongue that could only come from the other side of hell. His gaze turned downwards, peering through the brush and he found himself staring into a set of grey eyes and another whispered word, Saiyajin. In a flash the two hooded demons were off and the Saiyajin followed, diving to the ground and landing on his feet and he started running after them. The chase had gone from an obscure legend to a true hunt, he could almost sense the fear from the two demons, the smell of it filling his nostrils. Maybe he had overestimated the legends, to be caught as easily as this, by so careless a mistake; he had expected a trick or a trap, instead they were leading him to his very goal. The two darted into the mouth of a gaping cavern at the foot of a snow capped mountain; the idiots, if they thought they could possibly get away from him like that, they had fewer brains than he had given them credit for. Emerging from the brush, he flew at full speed towards the mountain side, and screamed out in pain as the image of the cavern disappeared and he slammed, head first, into the cliff side. The very forest seemed to shutter at the impact and Vegeta's cry of shock and agony. Landing back in the snow, his attention firmly on the headache now splitting his skull apart he didn't even hear the footsteps that approached him until the creature was right upon him.

"You dare invade the sacred ground of the Premedon order, Saiyajin slime? I do not know how you escaped hell but it will be my supreme pleasure to send you there." Opening his eyes, he caught sight of a white, leather skinned face growling those words to him, a set of enraged grey eyes staring down into his own black ones, the demon monk's disgust evident. Shifting his non-responsive body into a better position, he took a closer look at his challenger; the demon might have been taller than himself but the man was unarmed, and even in his stunned state, it was obvious that the Saiyajin Prince was stronger. Letting his ego get the better of him, Vgeta smirked up at his opponent.

"You and what army?" He replied, and the demon smirked back, revealing two rows of yellow fangs and raised out one empty hand. Slowly the hand tightened into a fist and before the Saiyajin's eyes a weapon appeared in the monk's fist, a long handled, two headed axe, and one end was aimed straight at Vegeta's head. He escaped death at the edge of the blade with only a millisecond to spare, stumbling to his feet fast enough to dodge another blow to his head, and then another to his stomach, the monk wielding the weapon as though it were an extension of his body. Whether it was the blow to his head, or the monk's skill, Vegeta found himself at a great disadvantage, backing away from his attacker with every swipe of the blades, never to take the offensive. Seeing a sudden weakness in the demon's attack, the Saiyajin Prince attempted a kick to the creature's unguarded side, and was caught unaware himself as the deadly weapon sliced along his shoulder, the blow causing him to stumble to the ground, his jaw clenched to hold back a scream of pain.

"May you punishment be as long and painful as the reign of your kind was to those who suffered at your hands." And so saying, the creature hold the weapon firmly at one end and aimed once more for the Vegeta's neck. For all the demon's skill and knowledge, he underestimated greatly the ability of the Saiyajin and how dangerous they truly were when cornered. As the blade swept downward, Vegeta's leg fired upwards, the blow so strong it shattered the handle of the axe like kindling, the moving end of the weapon following the sweep of the attack. Stunned at the manoeuvre, the demon didn't even get a chance to steady himself before the Saiyajin's other leg knocked his feet out from under him, sending him into the snow. Gritting with the effort to move over the pain of his shoulder, Vegeta got to his feet and grabbed the nearest axe head as he walked towards his downed opponent. Blood was slowly seeming through his bare finger as he attempted to cover the wound, staining his hands red. The mind numbing pain causing his rage to build with every step, his other hand gripping the broken axe handle tightly; this creature would pay. Staring down at the self-righteous monk, he found the same look of disgust and hatred as when their match had begun, facing the coming of death as easily as he face exacting of it. The monk wasn't moving, wasn't pleading for his life, or appeared to even be considering the possibility of escape; he had been beaten, even if it was by a creature such as Vegeta, and honour dictated that he be killed. And with every warm trail of life sustaining blood which poured from his wound, Vegeta wanted to give it, a long, painful death.

"Well, murderer, dog of hell, your skill and strength has surprised me, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that such a thing as you would not exact your revenge. So come on, kill me, show me what a true demon of hell is really like. Mindless animal, do you expect me to beg for mercy, I would gladly take an axe to the head than ask for anything from you." Vegeta was smirking now at the monk's words, or rather, the spirit behind him. It was there, so strong in the air, it reminded him of his earlier hunt with those other two of the green hooded robe; it was fear, pure, simple, the utter fear of death. The monk feared death, and he feared pain and thought that by provoking his anger he might at least be spared pain and be given a quick death in Vegeta's anger, no such luck. He had the weapon in his hands, it would take no effort at all to slice the monk's head from his body, or better yet, to skin the insolent man alive; show mercy, the word didn't even exist for him, not until two nights ago. He shook his head to clear himself of the memories, looking down once more at a set of scared but hard grey eyes, and yet all he could see was a pair of frantic blues staring at him. His mind echoed with the single word, mercy, mercy, and he was almost reliving the vivid dream, reliving his gruesome death at Freeza's hand, only to awaken in a dark, almost watery void, and the water burned. Like fiery tongues, the heat licked at his body until he was screaming in agony, reaching the point where he couldn't move or breath but he could feel, oh Kami he would always feel the pain. Then he felt it, like the grip of an angel upon his wounded soul she carried him up, through the hell, even suffering along with him, carrying him beyond the limits of human endurance to the surface. The ultimate power of a King, his father once told him, is not in the taking of life, but in the granting of it, and with that his grip loosened on the weapon and it fell to the ground, blood shed was not the answer, not here and now.

"You have been defeated, I have your honour in my hands, I do not care about your blood. I came here looking for answers, I wish to speak with Stalaunt." Gaping in utter shock at the unexpected reprieve, the demon's gaze softened only minutely at the gesture, only to snarl when the Saiyajin's intent was known. Honour dictated that he forfeit his life and his revenge in such a case as thing, but he could not in good faith let the Saiyajin escape, or worse, see his master. He did not know the creature's true intent beyond such a request, whose agent he might be working as, better to finish the job and live in shame than see his teacher dead at this beast's hands, and himself soon after. Watching for one moment of distraction, he was about to grab at the downed axe when a calm, soothing voice echoed through the clearing, the good-natured laughter catching both the monk and the Saiyajin off guard.

"Do not strike him down, he is free to come and speak with me; he carries no malice against me, nor does he seek a price on my head. I would not have you sacrifice your honour for no purpose but to aid the Lord of the Lower Hell." At the invisible being's words, Vegeta turned to look once more at his downed opponent, warring with himself at what struck him more, the loyalty this creature must have for its master, or hatred for the plain fact that it would have struck him dead for no greater crime than existing. No greater an evil than he had done in his time with Freeza, or the Demon Lord; the wind whipping around him as if in agreement, though offering a note of understanding. The tiny clearing then went silent, and before him a cavern opened up again in the mountain side, and a low light glowed out from deep inside. Ignoring the demon in the snow, Vegeta neared the cavern; his last encounter with mysterious entrances making him suspicion of this newest one. Tentatively he reached out and was pleasantly surprised to feel nothing but air against his hand, and cautiously walked forward into the cave.

With every step he took into the interior of the mountain, the clearer everything became, the light growing stronger and with it a dozen conversations in that strange demonic dialect. Rounding a corner he found himself in a great library, a veritable edifice to learning and knowledge; a catalogue of scrolls and bound manuscripts stacked as high as a four storey building. The whole area was filled with monks of the same description as the one outside, white leathery skin, solemn grey eyes looking out from under the hood of a deep green cloak. The hundreds of demons were rushing to and fro; speaking in groups of two or larger about topics he could scarcely comprehend, collecting various scrolls for heaven knew what, and flitting in and out of one of the many doors that lead to another part of the mysterious mountain refuge. Beyond what his eyes could pick up he could smell faint hints of what some of the other rooms contained; from one the overwhelming smells of spices, roots, and more gruesome supplies spoke of a magickal storeroom. In another the welcoming smells of food assaulted his nose, and yet another of cotton sheets and a place to sleep and he began to wonder if knowledge could be the only thing he might find here. It had been too long since he knew a good meal and a warm comfortable place to rest his head; the rigours of mortality that were not an issue for him for so long. His thoughts had begun to wander so far that he didn't even hear a distracted monk until the unfortunate man walked into him, sending the dozens of scrolls in his arms to the floor; the sound bringing him back to his senses, and the attention of the hundreds of demon's to his presence. Like his previous encounters with this Premedon order, the unfortunate monk that ran into him knew who he was immediately, or his race, the pale face going even paler in recognition, and a choked back gasp of fear soon followed. All around, the sounds was echoed and amplified as more and more of those grey eyes caught sight of him and his true identity, or that of his race, was uncovered, and the room was soon filled with another sound, that of the word 'Saiyajin'. Dreading the possibilities of more armed opponents, Vegeta began to charge his ki, readying himself to begin a defence, and this time he would not show leniency.

"That will not be necessary, son of Vegetasei, you will not find harm here and there is no need for you to harm us. You may show him to me, we have many matters to discuss." That same calming, mysterious voice said again, growing stronger as he neared the centre of the creature's lair. This time though, he could sense a real source of the voice, through the doorway, right in the front main portion of the library. Smirking back at the monk who had attacked him earlier, he made his way through the now silent room, his typical Saiyajin arrogance all the stronger now that he had made it this far. Stepping through the ornate set of doors, he was once more plunged into the darkness, but this time there was only a faint light to guide him. What kind of creature was this demon, if his power and knowledge is as great as they say, and an unheard of sense of doubt overwhelmed him at the prospect of now carrying on with this plan. He had never needed anyone before; he had only ever trusted in himself, in such a matter as this with his own life and the life of the woman involved, could he truly risk such a confidence. With every step closer to the light his mind formed the image of a white skinned face with grey eyes, so wrinkled and aged every gesture of his mouth or move of his head could bring the man to dust.

"But sir, how can you think this is wise; the greatest assassin of the Demon Lord, invited into your domain. We don't know his purpose here, he could be sent to kill you or … ." A softly spoken, yet frazzled voice echoed into the darkness, only to stop short when the speaker caught sight of the Saiyajin slipping out of the shadows and towards the light. Before his eyes he could see only the suspicious monk, a carbon copy of the figures he had met in the library and outside, the only distinction of rank was a elaborately intricate crest sewn on the breast, presumably the symbol of the order. Like all of the demons outside, this one began to tremble and shake, his eyes wide as he met Vegeta's deadly stare.

"There is no need for such panic, he has proven the goodness in his nature to me, he would not have been allowed in if he had not. Come in, Prince Vegeta, you still go by the title, do you not?" At the sound of that calm, ageless voice, the animosity and doubt melted away, and stepping through the threshold a wave of peace and serenity like he had never known in the life before or in death washed over him. Turning to the source of the voice, there, sitting upon a huge, well worn chair, towering above but he and the room's other occupant was what he could only assume was the demon himself. A huge creature, plain brown robes covering most of his eight foot tall frame; his body a good three feet wide, the body of an ivory tower man, an observer, a collector of knowledge but not an initiator. Just one look into that heavy set, wrinkled, bald head, at those warm, wise blue eyes that glowed out from that grey-green face, he could see why these monks would risk their lives to protect him, and why he was such a danger to the Master. There was the aura of authority and respect that surrounded the demon, a quiet dignity that inspired loyalty in all that could see him, hear his words, come into contact with that sense of peace about the man. It took him the longest time to just get over the mild lethargy he found himself a victim of, not moving or speaking until the demon once again spoke to the captive room.

"Durandan, go to the store room and collect some bandages and salve for our guest, would not be good company to allow him to suffer his injuries and offer him no help." It might have been on the monk's mind to disagree, the words poised on his very lips but there they stayed as he bowed his consent and left the room, not without giving a hard biting stare at the Saiyajin Prince.

"You never did answer my question, do you still use your title? It took you much effort to finally get here, I would hate to think I had your name wrong." That he would know his name, even his title and his former position was rather unnerving, just thinking about his past made him shuttering slightly, long, brutish and bloody, it was something he did not wish to think about now, not with a man they could say could see into one's soul. Would the huge demon refuse to help him if his past were revealed, probably didn't matter anyway, his reputation and name went hand in hand, if he knew one, he would definitely know the other.

"I discontinued its use long ago, after my first death; why cling to a sign of life when it was dead in the first place? As to the effort in getting here, I'm sure you much enjoyed that little stunt with the disappearing entrance. If I were you, I would not welcome with open arms the man who you made such a fool of, and who you nearly had killed, especially one who could so easily return the favour." The demon just smiled, looking almost like a kindly father figure, his face scrunching up all the more, if he thought this was some kind of joke, that the Saiyajin prince would not retaliate if he was given the chance.

"I had to make sure that your intent was pure, the test was my aid's idea, but you passed it; it is not often that I have encountered a warrior such as you, one who thought nothing of killing in the past now spares a life that threatened his own. It shows a nobility I had not though existing in you, and that flicker of something else, something very recent, interests me as well. You said you wished for answers, that you wished to speak with me, about the demon Lord, and the girl." Even after all his years of schooling his expression, Vegeta couldn't hold back that flicker of shock at the monk's words, he knew about the girl, obviously knew about his past, and his abandoned mission, yet he still wished to help him. Putting his doubts, and any possible thoughts about a personal agenda aside, he took a deep breath and calmly leaned against the far wall of the small chamber; it was the first time since this whole mess started that he felt a measure of peace.

"Rather an interesting position you find yourself in, I'm sure, from what I've learned of you I would have thought you would have killed the girl before you'd ever protect her, though I'm sure that is what the Demon Lord was banking on the same thing. You have definitely thrown him for a curve, not half as bad as you think. He wants the girl, the pure one, but his intentions are much more than for a bride, and you, my unfortunate Saiyajin, might have very possibly walked into a celestial war." So caught in what the monk was saying, he scowled bitterly as his attention was drawn away from the speaker and to the door, where the lackey from before once stood holding a roll of bandages and mortar of salve. Grey eyes switched from the seated monk to the injured Saiyajin until the older demon nodded and the jittery man slowly walked towards him. Giving his deadliest glare at the approaching monk, his gaze quickly shifted back to the giant in the chair.

"What kind of host would I be if I let my guest bleed to death." Stalaunt replied, lightly chuckling at the situation. Scowling at the demon who had found so much amusement at his discomfort, Vegeta simply nodded and allowed the small monk to come forward and wrap his injured shoulder in bandages. Feeling the warm salve on his injury, he had to hold back a contented sigh as the gnawing pain eased from his shoulder. Waiting until the order’s abbot had finished and left, Stalaunt listened for a moment before he began again.

"You must understand, my followers are very protective of who comes into contact with me, many are the assassins that have come for the price on my head, or the promise of a lighter sentence in eternity, great is the reach of the Lord of Lower Hell, but I guess you know that. A devious creature he is, old and wise, and cunning with his knowledge; he had once studied under me, in the hopes of learning of the secret of reading the mind; I can see he has learned many more tricks since his time with me. A long time it took to learn that particular secret, to read the inner thoughts is a difficult task, though I see you have learned it, telepathic your people are, or were I guess I should say." Vegeta could do nothing but grunt at the creature’s comments; thoughts of his position and his race died with his own death, only the pride in his own abilities survived, though even that didn’t escape unscathed the tortures of hell.

"So, you trained the monster that now seeks your own death, what was the matter, didn’t you see it coming? For all that you taught him that power you never used it with him, to see what he would do with your knowledge."

"I am not a soothsayer, merely a historian, I see the past and present, not the future; I cannot say from one moment to the next what will happen, only see what happens in this moment in time and record it in my mind for all eternity. It would be good of you to know that, Vegeta, the power of knowledge, but I guess you have already come to that conclusion yourself, otherwise you would not have gone to such lengths to find me. The Lord of Hell is also a seeker of knowledge, at one point he had done it for the mere desire to know. But with power, knowledge is a danger thing, it in itself is a greater source of power than all the energy in the universe, power is nothing without direction. Along with discovering the order and knowledge of the universe, the demon lord also learned of its power, and it, beyond all else helped to bring corruption into his soul. It is often said that total power corrupts totally, such is the same with the pursuit of total power, before I could intercede or stop his fall he was already too gone, there is nothing left of that student now, only the man who wishes for all that his power can provide. Once, before his fall, I had looked into him, had seen the good with the evil, in all of us there is a kernel of both, all but the pure ones." At the demon’s words, Vegeta straightened and scowled; at last he would know the reason for this insane mission, and know to what lengths he would have to go to protect her.

"In one of the books that once resided within this library there was an account of the pure ones and their powers, their ability, their purpose in the universe, and what their powers were capable of. They are like the balances of the universe, created when time and circumstances demand to keep the good and evil in equilibrium, to maintain the order of creation, to keep it from descending into chaos. From their outward appearance, they look like anyone, any other demon, alien or human, but inside, they are only pure, pure energy, as beautiful as eternity itself. Most of the beings I had beheld were blessed, with bewitching looks, intelligence, physical abilities, the power in them so strong it cannot be completely contained, and all were good, innocent in the truest form. This girl is but the latest in a long line of pure beings, a particularly beautiful one she is, if my sources are correct, and her purity is very strong; and from your own thoughts I can see that they are not wrong." That this demon, as benevolent as he seemed, was in his head was not a comforting thought, he could only imagine what he would think if he found out the details of his own desertion. A vessel of pure energy, that white glow that flowed from her, that was all the master wanted her for; but if what Stalaunt said was true, there must be more to it, what would be the use of pure good energy. For every answer that came more questions sprain in his mind; why go to such lengths to ensure that the woman was still pure, even to the point of requesting the magick of the great Wizons, and all of it for what, a woman for a bridal bed?

"I see the Lord of Hell did not realise his mistake in sending you, you think too much, Saiyajin, much too much to be a good mindless servant, but I guess he was thinking that your anger would fuel your actions more than your sense. He also did not account for the affects that the pure ones had on some; in the strongest of their kind, it is said that their power can actually be transferred to others, can cleanse the soul of those around them. The effects of such abilities are both a positive and negative, in some cases, the cleansing inspires more great loyalty, even love, in others, if the invasion is unwanted or causes great confusion, creating much the opposite affect. One can never really know how a being will take it, another mistake he had made." Seeing the look of confusion hidden in Vegeta eyes, the great demon monk decided to finally tell the Saiyajin the last part of the puzzle, and the forces he was truly facing.

"Soon after his descend into the darkness, my lost student stole that manuscript, along with several other tracks, about the organisation of the universe, an encyclopædia of demon species, a few books of spells and sacrifices. From those books, and his own knowledge and cunning, he has risen to the position he now possesses, but he still wishes for total power, and for all his knowledge, he still needs power, a huge amount of power, such as that of a pure one. Great is his abilities, he can now open portals from the underworld to this realm, he is already knocking holes in the fabric of reality, has opened two portals into this world since your own arrival. He wants to break down the wall that separates the realms, and he could very well do it, with that young woman. Once he gains access to her power, there would be no stopping him, it would be the Apocalypse, the end of everything, if that is what he was planning at all." Pausing for a moment to let the weight of his words descend upon his listener, he blinked in shock when the Saiyajin began to growl and a nimbus of blue-white light surrounded him. His arms had unwound from in front of his chest as he bent himself into a fighting stance and began to power up.

"How can he do it, what does he have to do to open this eternal portal, how is he going to get the power from her? What kind of sacrifice does such a ritual contain, tell me!" A ki created wind wiped about the room in his fury, tossing papers of manuscripts, the sight enough to startle even the stoic monk. Raising his hand in a hope to calm down the enraged Saiyajin, he spoke in a soft tone, giving him the last piece of the twisted puzzle.

"The fabric and divisions of the universe are a fragile set of barriers, easily breached with the right knowledge and power, but there are locks to those barriers to keep them in place. The locks will hold for all eternity, but they too are weak, the locks themselves are merely pieces of divine law, mighty but easily broken under the right conditions, the right conditions being to put as much energy into the locks as it took to create them. On his own, he does not have near to enough, not even she might have enough, but with his knowledge of the barriers, he might be able to weaken them enough to break them away completely. Ultimately though, he will need energy, much energy, either granted to him or stolen and drained from the source, no matter what happens to the girl it will be a torture to her. She will either be polluted: raped, beaten, tortured, to the point where her power is as defiled as the worst of demons, or she would be slowly killed, drained of the very life force in her veins." Stalaunt watched as the subtle affect his words had on the Saiyajin Prince, this time he had held the outward signs of emotion at bay, the only visible change was that of his eyes growing colder, more deadly as the warrior's worst fears where confirmed. Never before had the true weight of the situation come into focus like it had just a moment ago, the near insurmountable odds of his survival, one demon against the whole armies of hell, and if need be the demon lord would send them, one soldier at a time. He could never know, Stalaunt decided, looking down at now stoic figure as he tried to take in the plight he had now found himself in, the demon lord had been both wise and thoughtless when he had chosen this particular demon. Vegeta had both defied his master wishes, and completed them like no one else could, if he had not taken her virginity, broken that physical symbol of her innocence, then all the power of the devil himself could not touch her. It did not matter, the past could not be undone, and whatever change the event had wrought him was for the best now, and he would need his head and wits about him, there was nothing less than the wrath of heaven and hell on his heels.

"Be cautious, warrior, the task before you will be huge, no matter what course you take; three portals have been opened by the lord of lower Hell since your arrival, three in total from both side, and two assassins have come through into mortal plane." It did not take him long to hear the words beyond the words, there were more players in this game then even he had imagined. They must have figured out, the very identity of the girl would warrant an inquiry; another mistake by his former pupil, with power had come arrogance.

"What do you mean four in all, that there is another demon, at least one that I have not encountered?"

"You of anyone should know that demons come in all forms and presences, solid, ethereal, even of the divine. Portal activity does not go unnoticed for every long, and this much activity in one location, in such a short amount of time has raised the curiosity of heaven itself. Be lucky that you have not yet been found, when the need arises, the demon hunters are as dangerous as the monsters they face; and it is your hands, Saiyajin no Ouji, that were first stained with human blood, even if the morality of their soul was in question. There is nothing more that I can tell you, boy, be alert and very watchful, your enemies draw near and hide in the softest of sheep's wool. Good luck, Vegeta, though your shoulders seem unworthy for the task presented to you, there may be hope in you yet." The Saiyajin couldn't help but keep back a disdainful snort at the unlikely compliment, his mouth though was skewed in a half frown, half smirk, only the unconscious glow of his aura revealed that the comment had any positive effect on the warrior.

"Durandan will show you out, and do not worry, the farewell committee is not as strict as the welcoming party." At that comment he did laugh, the frown gone and a full devilish smirk spread over his face.

"As if I could possibly be intimidated by those pathetic cowards." He replied back and with an air of the Prince that he was, the plain clothed warrior huffed and turned on his heels; his mind too filled with facts and details that he had now been exposed to even wait for Stalaunt's assistant to help. From the senses gleaned off of years of journeying and studying he felt the rumbling of controlled ki as the Saiyajin returned the favour earlier bestowed upon him and blew a man sized hole through one of the outer hall walls. Revelling in the panic and pandemonium born in his wake, he rose in the air with the manipulation of his energy field, headed at breakneck speeds back towards the city, the woman and the danger that seemed to almost feed off of the both of them. Hearing Durandan curse out once the Saiyajin was out of ear shot about the crudity of monkey, Stalaunt actually chuckled lightly to himself.

"Rude bastard, didn't even say thank you."

***

Cold grey office walls surrounded her like a cage or a box, the air in the space so stale it caused her mouth to go dry and her eyes sting; while the monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall droned on, the only real sound in the whole office, reminding her where she was, and making her wish that she wasn't. The whole ambience of the pseudo torture chamber was made complete by the panel of four leering general managers, who all could have been cousins of Mr. Bakna from the rotund, boorish looks of them, and the personalities that were low in compassion and high on power. Kami, did these guys come in any other archetype? With her body feeling like it was weighted down with lead and her brain an inch from shutting down, she cast her eyes downward, uncaring about the stupid weak men in front of her and how long it was taking them to make a decision. It was so hard to keep on going with it all as one potential job after another slipped through her fingers, or was barred from her by petty men and every company's version of Gisele. The weight of it all was slowly starting to crush her, that sense of optimism that she had begun to cultivate in herself was being killed off; her only peace came on those few nights when she was confronted with her dream man. Letting a breathy sigh shift the dead air in the room, it had been three days since she had last seen him in her nightly fantasies, but even his presence wasn't wholly comforting, remembering the scene from the watery void, and the icy one from that first encounter. She shifted once more in her chair, trying to keep her butt from going numb, though she was losing the war with the rest of her body, her eyelids finally closing, her mind welcoming the rest … which lasted all of three seconds before she was rudely awaken by a loud cough.

"While your education and references are very impressive, Ms. Briefs, I'm afraid we are looking for someone different, someone with more experience in the field." The man second from the left stated to her, as an irate adult would speak to a child, the other men nodding like mindless drones at the appropriate words and pauses.

"I mean, what good is someone who can spout out a bunch of great answers if they can't cut it in the real world, appearances can only get you so far. We want someone that is a winner, and your record with jobs does not give us much cause to put much faith in you, Mr. Bakna gave us his personal opinion of you as a worker when we called in. We hire people that are competent and hardworking, not ones who talk to mannequins and day dream; therefore, it is my pleasu, I mean regret, to inform you that we will be looking else where, good day." With every word her spirit was sunk, lower and lower as it ripped through her heart, rattled her stomach to finally settle at the souls of her feet. The professional look she had strived so hard to maintain fell momentarily at the crude announcement, cracking with the first signs of a tear before the show of emotion was pushed down as well; she wondered if her legs would have the strength to carry her out of the room. Once more denied, the new found sense of wholeness breaking once more under the weight of harsh reality, a little bit of herself dying with that proclamation, even her one source of comfort was being used against her. Not bothering to thank them for their time, she walked out of the horridly stuffy room with all the dignity she could muster, her reprieve from that prison a small condolence with her lungs still burning with that stale air and her brain echoed with their words. Her warm thick coat slung over her arm, she operated in a state of shock, right now she wanted to cry, and scream, wail, throw a tantrum and rage at the world, but instead she was numb, unaware of her surroundings. Even her senses were in a state lethargy, not even the bitter cold of the December winds could break through, the young woman getting the most incredulous looks from passers-by. It wasn't until she looked down at her hands that she had sense enough to hail a cab, slipping the coat over exposed arms and legs before her skin turned as blue as her hair. Within a few moments a vehicle was speeding her towards her apartment building; how long before even this luxury was gone, before her funds dried up and she would have to admit defeat. Her parents had always been funnelling money into her bank accounts, and always she had refused to take it, accepting only the credit card her father had given to her. It would be her own life, she would make her own way on her own terms, but now that reality was slowly dying too; it wouldn't be long before she would have to leave her apartment, leave Tokyo and be known to all the world as another spoiled heiress who couldn't make it without money. Soon, she calmly repeated to herself, once she was in the safety of her own four walls she would let it out, once she was home, once she was safe.

***

"Listen, Miss, I told you that we are on official police business, so if you would just leave us alone then you would be doing yourself a big favour." The elevator door rolled open to the sound of arguing, a deep voice that she had never heard, a few decibels away from screaming, was ringing through the hallway; that settled it, today was officially the most horrid and bizarre day of her life. Even her fortress of solitude was being breached with people yelling and screaming, which in itself was unusual but just the thought of being subjected to such a thing and the gossip that would come with it made her want to press the button for the first floor. But in that decision too she was hesitant, remembering the odd piercing glances she had received from the door man; never a talkative fellow by nature, he was more silent and esoteric as of late. Just the odd vibe she had been catching off Rai was enough to make her stay her hand; though maybe she could escape through the parking garage, the last thing she needed was to here about how the police were at … .

"I don't care if you are the Imperial guards, I'm not letting you anywhere near her apartment without a warrant, you have no right, and if you think can just intimidate me with those badges you have another thing coming." All thoughts of escape fled from her mind at the stubborn tone of the respondent's voice.

***

"If you don't let us get in to that apartment, then we will come back with a search warrant, and a charge of hindering prosecution and obstruction, how does that sound, Ms. Ingenu?" Krillin watched on in weariness, the case that was supposed to be a man running out on his girlfriend had turned into a file worthy of Yashimoto and the boys in the 'Abnorm' squad, or the case book of Sherlock Holmes. Already the stresses and strains where showing through, as he and his newest partner watch Ty attempt to bully the girl into getting out of their way, and once again failing miserably. It had truly gone from bad to worse; a case that doesn't make sense about a crime without a victim, evidence being destroyed and forensic reports erased, almost by magic, or sabotage. And finally, with their last and best lead standing not ten feet away they were being kept at bay, by a small, loud mouthed red head. If he had been given the opportunity, he might have found the whole thing funny, like a verbal tennis match, rallying back and forth with no clear victor; that the girl could hold her own against Ty was quite an accomplishment. Too bad there was a penalty against asking out potential witnesses, she certainly was a cutie.

"Ma'am, I can assure you that this is above board, there has been a minor robbery at Ms. Briefs former place of employment and an old acquaintance has gone missing. There are a few discrepancies with some of our notes and we want to clear them up at the source, and ask her if she has any knowledge about the events." When you fail pounding at the door, it is always best to come through the window his old teacher once said, old pervert that he was; and while it might have bought them silence, there was no bend in those eyes. Glancing over at Yashimoto for some advice, he found his buttoned down, eccentric partner as useless with the woman as Tyrone's yelling had been, the man attention centred mostly on the girl's chest, or more precisely, it would seem, a pendant around her neck; like he could ever figure out what significance people saw in them? Defeat was never an easy pill to swallow, damn it, the traffic this hour would be insane, and he didn't want to imagine what Detective Jackson would be like after an unpleasantness like this. There were out of clues, out of luck and slowly running out of time as the case was steadily going cold; they didn't even have any leads about who might have destroyed the evidence, not that it was much good, every clue they received from it was a dead end, or worse, made the whole case more perplexing.

"We really don't have time for this, Miss, this is an open investigation and we need to get into that apartment and talk to Ms. Briefs." Damn it, he never had any luck with the girls. It was bad enough working with a guy like Jackson, but Yashimoto just had to speak and give an off hand grin and the girl particularly melted, going all silent and wide eyed; and staring completely around Yashimoto back into the hall. She must have realised her lapse, those stunned eyes turning furious once more, flashing at them, but the damage had been done; Krillin's head had not yet turned around before a new voice, soft and solemn filled the now silent hall.

"What do you mean something happened to a friend of mine, something happened at the store, an investigation; please, you have to tell me what is going on?" Ever head turned, every set of eyes descending on the new speaker, and every male felt his jaw drop at what sight their eyes met; Kami, she was gorgeous. A young slim girl, wonderfully well curved with the most exotic hair and eyes the small detective had ever laid eyes on; this was the girl that had encored so much wrath, that a man had actually given up in favour of a woman like Ms. Lee. The charge of sex kitten and a spoiled, conniving brat seemed to be an impossibility too, when he looked into those lovely blue eyes, those lovely, tired, rather haunted eyes, framed by a too pale face, her whole body lightly trembling; making her look for the world like a precious china doll. If this woman really was involved in the disappearance, she must be the most unfortunate victim of circumstance, or the best actress he had even seen.

"Bulma Briefs I presume?" Krillin asked, the first of the threesome to collect their wits about them enough to speak, Kami, just the look on her face made a man, anyone want to help her, do anything they could for her, and here they had come to accuse her of this horrible crime.

"Yes, I'm Bulma Briefs, but what is this that you are talking about, a friend, what about them, are they hurt, what can I do?"

"Ms. Briefs, this might take a long time to explain, and this really isn't the place for it. Please, if we could find some where more comfortable and less public, it could be a lot better." After the fight the red haired hoyden put up to keep them out, he couldn't imagine she would, and that might just be for the best, they were here to feed her to the wolves, she was the best suspect they had, and it was the last thing he wanted to do. Jeez, he had talked to the woman once and already he wanted to look out for her like a long, trusting friend, taking more care with her than he had any other suspect in this life; to remind himself that she really was a suspect. One look at her though, into those eyes, made you want to believe her, just the vibes he was getting off her was so strange, ones of trust and remembrance, maybe he knew her in a past life, or maybe he was too caught up in this case. He couldn't even keep his emotional reaction at bay, a pained and overwrought expression that was painted across his face was easily picked up by the soft spoken woman.

"Is there something wrong, Detective … ?"

"Krillin, ma'am, Detective Krillin; I was just thinking that I've been at this job a little too long, spend enough time with these two and any one would need a vacation, and their head examined." She actually smiled at his silly cover-up comment, a little laugh fell from her lips, and he couldn't help and smile in return; that small gesture making all the difference in that sad little face. Her eyes warmed, full of peace and completely confident when she looked at her friend and nodded her acceptance, the red haired woman sighing in reply; all of that work for nothing, Krillin thought. Unzipping the handbag over her shoulder, she fished through it until she hit her keys, the metal ringing as she drew them out of the depths of her purse.

"I can't offer a head exam, or a reprieve from your partners, but if you would like something to drink, I guess I could help you out there. You wouldn't mind if Mona came as well; just in case I need an impromptu lawyer?"

"Thank you very much Ms. Briefs, and Ms. Ingenu can come as well; I'm sure if we didn't she would slap a harassment and police misconduct charge on us. If Ty gets another one of those he gets a free car wash and a life time supply of rice-a-roni." By whatever power was allowing him to open his mouth and stick his foot in it, it earned him a smile from Ms. Briefs, a smirk from the fiery Ms. Ingenu, and a look of red hot rage from Jackson. Walking past the three of them, the blue haired woman opened the door into the dark apartment, the other woman running flank, whispering in her ear, trying to reason with her to see sense and slam the door in their faces. So intent was he in watching the silent discussion, he didn't even feel Ty's presence until this partner was almost staring him straight in the face.

"Krillin," he growled out, his anger so great he could hardly keep his voice below a roar. Glancing over at Yashimoto, he knew he wasn't going to get any help from the soft spoken detective, his stare clearly showing that Krillin had dug his own grave, now he had to lie in it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, telling a suspect something like that, we find one iota of direct evidence on her and she'll call police brutality and harassment and I don't know about you, but I don't want a suspension and an internal affairs inquiry on my record. If you want to find a girl friend or get a date do it on your own time, I swear if this case is screwed up because of this, you won't be able to have kids." It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he would get an inquiry anyway at this rate for partnercide; if looks could kill, the tiny cop would not be leaving a pretty corpse.

"Hey, I got us in to the apartment, I got the witness to do it of her own free will and willing to talk to us, I can't see how your shouting was doing much better. Besides, you can't honestly think that girl is guilty of anything those people said; she looks like she would faint at the sight of blood, not someone who could orchestrate a plan this complex. She and Yamcha spilt up almost three or four months ago, what possible reason would she have for doing anything to him?"

"Maybe we should ask her, before we start sentencing, or giving her the citizen of the year award." Yashimoto quipped, breaking the hard stand off between the two men and motioning towards the door. The two women were looking back at them, puzzled expressions on both of their faces, the blue eyed doe pushing her friend into the apartment while she turned and moved to the side.

"Would you like you to come in, you keep taking about a case, that something happened in the store; I know I haven't really been watching the news recently but I haven't heard anything. I really would like it if you could tell me what is going on." Straightening his back and staring back at the irate American, Krillin brushed past his two counterparts and nodded his acceptance of the invitation.

"We'll do anything we can for you, Ms. Briefs. Thank you." He replied as motioned for her to go ahead of him; allowing the opportunity to flash an 'I told you so' smirk at his partners. Not bothering to look back and see if he were being followed, he felt Yashimoto's cat like footfalls against the floor, Jackson's heavy thumping steps and low toned grumbling taking up the rear. Taking their seats on the simple couches around the living room area of the small apartment, they were once more confronted with that no nonsense green stare, and a more concerned blue one, those pale hands wringing a tea towel to death, her attention flitting between the opened door, the flashing answering machine, and her company. The subsequent silence was almost maddening as she walked over to the door, shutting it quietly; the young woman not sure what to make of so much attention, so many pairs of strange eyes all directed towards her.

"Please, is there anything I could get you: tea, water, coffee, something to eat. I'm sorry, I'm babbling like my mother; she would never have guests over without offering them something." Krillin could hardly answer her back, his eyes had focussed on the attraction red head once more, and watching the face fault she gave at Bulma's naïveté almost had him in stitches; the awkwardness of the situation making everyone high strung. It seemed it would be his job again to clear the air and make the room at ease.

"Coffee would be just fine, ma'am; thank you very much, you'd be a credit to your mother, it's not often we get people offering us drinks and food, sure beats the stale coffee in the precinct." Her eyes flitted over to his two other partners and they both nodded, allowing Krillin his due with this witness, it wasn't often a connection could be made with a suspect and they knew it was more precious now than ever. Watching her disappear into the kitchen area, and hearing the rush of water from the tap, he waited until it was silent once before he started again, waiting for her to reappear and he smiled happily as he saw some colour flood into her cheeks.

"This is a very nice place you have, I had thought that you were the daughter of the owner of Capsule Corporation, but no offence, if I had that much money I'd be sunning up on the Riviera."

"My father told me once that a person is never complete until they have made their own way through their own ability; money is nothing more than a tangible symbol of want, it's simple and easy to understand and people are not. If all you do is want for things, then you will never know real happiness; one of the wisest men I've ever known my father is, and the happiest, I don't think he's spent more than a thousand dollars on anything purely for himself. But if you want to know why the heiress to a fortune is living here and trying to find a job; the only answer I can give you is that money was not the ultimate end for me, if you live with it your whole life it becomes a straight jacket. My needs are simple, Detective Krillin, and if they bring me independence and happiness, then I would live on bread and water. I don't expect you would understand, sometimes I wonder about it myself; just call it the love of self accomplishment. But you still haven't answered my question, what is this case you keep talking about and what does it have to do with me?" So, she did have more of a backbone than he had originally thought, but still, talking about higher mindedness and philosophy did not make her any less guilty or innocent. Seeing the woman that had encored so much wrath, seemingly so undeserved made him wonder how she had gotten involved with a man like Yamcha and the play boy set, or how she was thrown from surgery paradise.

"I guess I've been beating around the bush on this matter, just that we do have a lot of questions for you, some of rather personal nature, and some people enjoy small talk at the beginning. Detective Jackson, Yashimoto and myself," he said, gesturing to the two silent men. "Are investigating a recent robbery at Shordar's, where were you on the night of December 2^nd?" She almost seemed to pale again at the question, her eyes going wide and round, in guilt, or uncertainty; she was a few seconds from stuttering when the screech of the whistling kettle sounded through out the intimate apartment. Sighing in relief at the sudden distraction, she ducked back into the safety of the kitchen, hiding her guilt from view.

"Now do you all want coffee or was there anyone for tea?" One step forward, Krillin groaned, and two steps back.

"And what do you want that information for, is she a suspect?" The tense red head took over the room once again, giving him her best deadly stare; she must practice that a lot, it even sent him into a series of stutters.

"We were called in to this case for several reasons, but the main reason is that a weird occurrence happened at the store on that night. As far as is known, the entire security and surveillance system shut down for six hours and then restarted, and in that space of time, a mannequin, bed, and a jade pendant went missing, and several items of women's clothing." Yashimoto paused in his speech, flipping through his notes, to get the list correct. "A black silk underwear set, knee high sandal toed boots and a light green mini dress, were found in a pile in the men's wear department. From the stores records you were working that day but never clocked out, we wanted to know about your whereabouts that night."

"Isn't this more of an insurance matter, but if you really think someone her size could possibly carry that sort of stuff or be able shut down the entire security system, and I can't honestly see a motive to go along with these questions; are you accusing her of anything?"

"Are you some kind of tv lawyer nut, Ms. Ingenu, we are trying to conduct an investigation, this is routine questioning and if you don't stop it with your outbursts then we'll continue this discussion in one of the interrogation rooms. But you tell us, Ms. Briefs, I've heard that with some of the inventions from your father's company you could easily carry away that sort of stuff, but the whys would probably be best answered by Ms. Briefs herself." At the sound of Mona's voice, Jackson reacted, his patience, above the others, was very short, it had been since the beginning of the investigation and it had not improved the deeper in they got.

"Please Mona, it's okay, I take care of this. I'm not sure how far into your investigation you are but December 2^nd was my last day, or one of the days of my last week, I really wasn't doing following any procedure anymore, I just wanted to get out. I had a bad habit about signing out anyway so I might not have bothered with it that last week, to my whereabouts if I was anywhere I was here, I'm not much of a social butterfly, I either took a cab or bus home and went to bed. If I had wanted to, I guess I could have used some of the containment capsules, but in all honesty, if I were going to do something like that, don't you think I would have stole something more valuable than a bed, a mannequin and a simple pendant? You also haven't told me about this acquaintance of mine, you wouldn't be here just for the robbery, that would be the insurance people, not the police."

"So, you were on bad terms with the management at Shordar's, or was it person or people in particular; we had heard that you were rather unpopular amongst the staff at the store, mostly dealing with one of the male catalogue models, Yamcha. We understand that the two of you had a very close personal relationship. We are asking you this ma'am because Mr. Yamcha is missing, and has been since the second; the night of the robbery was the last time he was seen, and that was for a catalogue shoot in the store." With that one name, ever spark of happiness and hint of colour in her cheeks was gone, even the coffee service she had threatened to fall to the ground, her arms suddenly losing their strength. Rushing to her side, Krillin grabbed the tray and set it down, leading her to one of the large comfortable chairs in the living room, stroking her back in an attempt to bring the life back into her eyes. The three of them had heard the tale of the couple's falling out so often, the telling very vague and highly twisted, but to see the reaction of her just to his name, the bald detective could only guess at the real truth. Even the ever bombastic Jackson was looking on mournfully at the young woman, even Ty was affected by her; so he wasn't the only one that had that unexplained compassion for her.

"Bulma, honey, are you okay? I think you're done quite enough with your questioning, and if you want to talk to Ms. Briefs again, maybe it should be through a lawy … ."

"No, it's okay, just that that subject is still a little sensitive; to have a complete stranger come to you and speak of it so suddenly, I'm sorry, I must look like a wreck." Stepping away from the woman, Krillin let her collect herself in the arms of her friend, as he turned and prepared a cup of the noxious brown liquid in one of the mugs and dampened its favour with milk. Handing the steaming mugs to her, they all watched as she gripped it tightly, her knuckles turning white with the effort, but it seemed to calm her, or bring her back to a sense of herself. She stared so intently at that mug when it was put in her hands, studying it as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, her whole demeanour changed in that one moment, from scared rabbit to the femme in a film noir.

"I'm not going to bore with any great level of detail, just that when I first started working for the store Yamcha and I began a relationship, it grew to the point where we had actually moved in with each other, but I didn't realise everything when I entered into the relationship. He was a very kind man, he was always sweet to me, but, I don't know, everything really just fell apart. On the night of our housewarming, he ended up getting drunk, he wanted sex, I said no and he didn't want to hear that. I guess I wasn't completely honest with him either; he, none of my friends, co-workers at the time knew my real origins, who I was, my family's wealth. I let it slip during our disagreement and he couldn't take it, he feel in love with an image of a person that didn't exist, and when that bubble burst so did a lot of things. Since that night, my relationship with the people at Shordar's disintegrated, the people there are very tied to each other, like a clique of the beautiful and acceptable; I fell out of favour but trust me when I tell you that my severance was mutual. If you're looking for any sort of vendetta, I'm afraid you will have to look elsewhere, as far as I'm concerned, the farther I am from that store and those people, the happier I am. What happened between Yamcha and I was a mistake, I hated myself for being so easily fooled, I will answer any question you might have though; we hadn't talked in a few months but no matter how much I hated him, I could not imagine anything happening to him."

"That is a very nice little speech, Ms., but there is several other points we would like to discuss with you, and your relationship with Yamcha is one of them. I must ask you, was he ever one to go on long trips, did he have any sort of secret getaways or places that were not listed under his own name?"

"No, he liked the cosmopolitan life style too much, some of his buddies used to go up to a rented cottage by the ocean but Yamcha was more of the city type, he only had his apartment, but for all I know he could have had several on the side. I doubt he would own just a place on his own, for as long as I knew him he lived off his credit card, or rather the company’s card. I think that was were he and Gisele were very much the same, Yamcha loved to use the company card and Gisele the company's clothes." Every word out of her mouth was yet another confirmation of what we had gleaned from dealing with this case; Krillin had to admit he liked her moxy. He could only imagine how a delicate woman like her could handle an attempted rape, and the denouncement by someone she thought loved and trusted her, but he couldn't believe that she was so unaffected by it all, when she had shown such a reaction when his name was even mentioned. And with every statement she made about him and the profession of her innocent, she appeared to be more guilty, sinking lower and lower into the grave.

"Did you know if he had any enemies, owed any money, pissed off the wrong people, anything at all? He had reason to suspect that his disappearance is a product of foul play."

"You, you don't think he's dead?" She whispered, Krillin renewing his disbelief; if she did do it, then she must be the greatest actress he had ever seen.

"We can't rule out any possibilities, Ms., but can you tell us, any enemies, anything at all that might get him in trouble? We were also wondering if you knew anything about his background, where he grew up, any information you could give would be very helpful." She paused then, taking a short sip of the bitter coffee, grimacing at the taste but took another; the coffee acting like a pseudo alcohol, giving the impression of false courage.

"As long as I knew him, Yamcha never had an enemy, the whole store practically worshipped him, he never passed anyone without giving them a smile; as far as I knew everyone liked him. He never smoked, or gambled, or anything else, his job and appearance were too important to him for him to waste it on things like that, but I didn't know he drank either, our relationship was more smoke and mirrors than anything. You would have to ask his friends about any seedier activities, if he was involved with them, he never told me. By the end I wasn't privy to any of the store gossips as well, so I couldn't tell you anything of that nature, the same with Yamcha's past. He once told me that he was an orphan and was raised in the desert regions of China, he had some bad ties but he lost them when he came to Japan, he might have joined back with them, but that wouldn't explain why someone would want to steal a bed and a mannequin."

"Thank you anyway, Ms., any information that we can get is a great help. We were will have to check our your alibi, do you have a ticket or receipt with a time printed on it, did any of the cabbie or bus driver saw you? Can you confirm your whereabouts, can you even remember clearly where you were, you did seem very sketchy about the details earlier." Krillin asked, hoping to leave the poor woman alone with her grief, and secretly wishing that something new would come from the bit of information she had given them. From every piece of evidence they had she was their best subject, and it would only be a matter of time before the records of her credit card and bank transactions were in their hands.

"I'm sorry, I can't even remember what I took, there are a few buses that come this way, and now that I think about it I don't think I took a taxi. I'm sorry, the only thing I really remember is waking up the next morning in my own bed." Looking over to the other two detectives, asking without words if they had anything more for the blue haired woman, he got a look of impatience from Jackson and deliberation from Yashimoto.

"Well, thank you very much Ms. Briefs, and if my partners have nothing else for you then we won't take up any more of your time."

"I do have one question for you, Ms.." Yashimoto replied, walking over to the slim female and bending down to whisper right into her ears. Whatever the well-built Yashimoto had asked her brought a smile to her too saddened face and she nodded, and pointed to a door at the back of the apartment, the four of them watching him as he disappeared. With every step that Yashimoto took, Bulma seemed to smile more, almost to the point of giggling.

"I'm sorry, but it's not every day a man asks to use your bathroom."

***

By heaven, Kami and all powers of goodness, the legends of them were true, the pure one, the pure one was here, on earth, amongst the humans, and he was using her bathroom. The second he had beheld that slim, solemn face, framed with such exotic blue hair and crowned by those exquisite, bottomless eyes, looking for the world like a renaissance artist's angel; if she had wings she would have been an angel. Why, the aura of white light around her was like a beacon to the unsullied and pernicious, the power of it flooding every crevice of the darkness of the world around her. If he had the power or opportunity to speak with the omnipotent force that brought her into creation he didn't know whether he would bow in admiration and adoration of their work or smack them upside their metaphoric heads for making such a powerful being so eye catching. It was like hiding a candle in a dark room, anyone with eyes enough could see what she was, even the mortals could tell what a prise she was, their eyes not giving them the whole story but they knew. It was hard to take his eyes off of her, to try and sort through everything in his head, just the presence of this woman made the whole affair so much more complex. He was sure it was not by accident that she was, her essence was, at the store, in Yamcha's apartment, but so too was that of Vegeta's, and if he was involved what plan did the demon lord have in mind, and why was this girl too not a victim of the vicious Saiyajin. Letting Krillin and Jackson question the woman about the temporal case, he watched her carefully for any clues to the more divine matters. Throughout the whole ordeal the nimbus of light around her flashed wildly, from pink, blue and green, to grey and red whenever the topic of Yamcha and their past together was brought up. How awful it must have been, he had felt the lingering affects of the near rape and her condemnation in the tremors of her voice, and the retraction of her light into herself. But there was nothing more, no guilt, no remorse over his death, and one such as her would feel everything, she could hardly hide it on her face, let alone in her radiance. Whatever had happened, if Vegeta had killed the mortal, she was not involved, at least not consciously, she still didn't understand her power or the danger she was in. Splashing cold water into his face, trying to come to terms with the situation he now found himself, he gazed into the too human face that stared back from the mirror; he now had one lead, the girl was the key, to finding Vegeta, to the cause of the portals. Dear heaven, a pure, beautiful soul, an innocent being, he never thought he would ever find one; oi, they weren't paying him enough for this. Wiping his face dry, he slipped back into the bed room, the only bathroom in the whole apartment had to be an en-suite, he groaned, the woman's smell was so strong, and infinitely sweet and oddly inviting, darn thing body, it had needs he would never comprehend. Pausing at the mirror over her dresser, he took in the intimate gallery, pictures of an older lavender haired man, wearing spectacles, a lab coat and a tiny black cat hanging on his shoulder, a cheerful blonde beauty waving mindlessly into the camera standing next to him. There were many others, all of people well known and loved, that similar feeling of happiness surrounding them, no signs of any demon presence, any guilt or … with one look down his calm was totally shattered and nothing made sense at all. There, nestled in a small glass jewellery box, embossed with reed leaves and rimmed with gold, was the missing jade pendant, a giant pearl drop shaped stone, and his essence was on it, that of the Saiyajin Vegeta and of Bulma. She was there, she was in the store, had been confronted by Vegeta and had lived, but why? Picking up the trinket, he shuttered as his fingers brushed against the stone's smooth surface, the mixing of essences was stronger than he could have imagined, they had obviously met, but the woman was alive, a miracle and mystery indeed. Pleasure and love ripping through the sliver of that pure energy, and through his, dear Kami, confusion, lust and equal proportions of something; he could not call it love, or any other emotion that a man of his experience knew, but it was there. Something had happened that night, it had started the whole chain of reactions; Vegeta took her captive, and left her in peace, the portals which had been opened were not for her, they were for him, the demon Lord retrieving a rebellious servant, or he wanted both of them. The potion in Yamcha's system was originally meant for the pure one, what the demon lord could do with one such as her, it would be the death of everything as it was known.

"Detective Yashimoto, is there something wrong?" So caught up in his thoughts he did not even hear her walk in, and at the sound of her voice he almost jumped in shock, and dropped the pendant on to the dresser. The colour drained from his face as her guilt was announced to the two of them, the presence of the pendant damning her and they both knew it. He almost couldn't turn and face her again, her whole body shook and trembled, her eyes wide and saddened beyond belief; and through it all, they spoke of truth and complete and utter confusion of how she came into possession of the necklace. Her mind was blank of that night, half remembered scenes of her in a beautiful dress, chasing imaginary beasts and a mannequin turned man, with the face and hair of the most ruthless of hell's own army. He stared at her then, at every other moment before he could never get a good reading, the three other energies in the room had mixed and moulded with hers, blurring anything he could find within it. But now, it was only the two of them and, it was worse than the pendant; she was no longer a true innocent, untouched by man, Vegeta had used her, and everything that that entailed made him blanch white. She was too much a danger, so much so she should not even be allowed to live, if he killed her right then and there, her soul, even with the sin of sex would reach heaven and the world would be secure. But to snuff out that life, a beautiful loving creature killed by his hand, he would be no worse than the demons he hunted, and she was still an innocent in thought, her aura not dimming or going dark in any way. His legs were little better than lead weights but he walked over to her, taking the tiny, delicate frame against his own hard one, if only to comfort her enough to reassure her she was alright; truth be told, he was never so unsure of anything in his life.

"Don’t worry, Bulma, I know you are innocent, the robbery and Yamcha's death, none of it was your fault, but please, stay anyway from him, pure one. I want to protect you." Her soft body, which had folded easily into his own at the hope of some kind of comfort had tensed at his words, 'pure one', that word was echoing in her mind, said over again by a cold, evil voice. She pushed away from him then, tears born of absolute terror pouring down her cheeks, and amazingly she held fast against the weight of her fear.

"Get out, get out of my apartment, don't say anything like that again, don't come any where near me again, or I will scream harassment and have my father's lawyers on you so fast, you'll never hold a badge again. What is this, some kind of sick game, did Gisele put you up to this; I don't care, just get out of here, now!" She was near hysterical, she knew, but not enough, she knew she was in danger, but in her home, under her roof, he had no more power to help and protect her than to stop the sun from rising in the morning. It was on the tip of his tongue to explain, to tell her what was happening, or as much as he could comprehend, to warn her and provide her with protection, but he couldn't, tradition and the iron clad law of silence kept him quiet, as he left her there, weeping on the floor.

"Bulma? Hey, Bulma, they're gone now, that tall guy, the one that used your bathroom was kinda cute, the same with that short guy. Do you want to tell me what that was all about, oh my Kami, Bulma; what's the matter?" Mona had called out to her friend as she bid the police men a not too fond farewell, slamming the door as they past the threshold and went in search of her friend, the red haired woman panicking at the sight which greeted her eyes. Curled in a ball in the middle of her bedroom floor, Bulma was gasping and sobbing, her lungs barely holding the air as she began to whisper, her words to rough and garbled to make any sense. It took a moment to get over the initial shock but Mona was soon upon her, wrapping her arms around the struggling woman, rubbing her back in an effort to calm her down.

"They're gone, Bulma, it's okay, nothing can hurt you, you'll be fine just try to breathe, honey; just breathe." Just the comforting presence around her brought Bulma back to a state of reality, her breathing slowing to normal, her tears starting to dry on her reddened cheeks, and she even smiled, the only thank you she could muster under the circumstance. Smiling back, Mona somehow brought her friend back onto the bed, grabbing a box of tissues and throwing a blanket around her shoulders, bring her condition to a calmer state, until she had once again found her voice.

"Hey, are you okay? Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up is all, I have a, a necklace like the one they said was stolen from the store. He started talking to me and, I'm sorry but it's just really crazy, but he called me something. I've only ever heard it once, but the voice that said it, it was the most terrifying thing I had ever heard; just the thought that that detective knew about it, that anyone could speak of something like that."

"Let's forget it then, they are gone, and I hopefully they won't be darkening your door for a long time. Come on, kid, you can't stay cooped up in this place, we need to go out; I heard of this great little club downtown, I propose that we go out tonight, drink away our problems, dance and act as irresponsible as possible. Then tomorrow, when we are recovering, we rent every good Brad Pitt and Matt Damon movie, and eat copious amounts of junk food. You better be up for it, otherwise I will be one lonely, cranking drunk tomorrow." She finally smiled again, the expression quickly turning into a smirk, as they agreed on a time to meet. Letting Mona out of the apartment, her mood far lighter than when she had entered it earlier, she turned once more to that blinking answering machine, listening to her father's voice asking how she was doing, and about that job in Malaysia.

***

By Kami, she didn't know why she had been against drinking so long, that warm feeling that was just swimming through her bones and making her head wonderfully light was just what she needed. Damn it, even that fucker's name gave her the feeling of ashes in her mouth; Yamcha, after everything he did to her, now he goes and dies on her or gets himself kidnapped or whatever, and makes sure the blame is squarely on her. Kami, she would kill him, if someone hadn't done it first. But no, that wasn't what made her so sad, she was crying about something, it even made her as jumpy as a grasshopper in the shower, something about that damn detective and her. At some point in the evening, a mental block had been constructed around those memories; just enough to know that even the mention of the words brought pain. It was why she had let herself be dressed in her shortest and tightest, dragged to this club, forced onto a crowded dance floor and imbibed with alcohol, and still, it brought pain but jelly shooters could take that all away. She felt so loose and free, something she hadn't felt since before her break-up with Yamcha, and he never took her to a place like this, probably worried she'd walk off with another man, and that might be a good idea. She had always been saving her virginity for marriage, but right now she was ready to chuck the whole moral high ground away. What had it ever brought her but pain from blind, ignorant users, she tried to convince herself, even though the better part of her mind not completely drowned out kept reminder her of the consequences. It was bad enough being tied to Yamcha for six months, but a man just like him for the rest of her life? The looks on her parents' faces when she showed up with a swollen stomach and a man whose name she could hardly remember; forget sex then, it wasn't worth it either.

"Give me something strong and something wet, a vodka shot and a glass of water would do nicely." She yelled over the pulse pounding bass that rumbled through her whole being; wickedly flashing the man a thousand yen bill and a nice look at her chest in the borrowed tube top.

"We got a Russian, French, and an invite, babe, if you and them every get lonely, I can fill that order too." Idiot, she mused to herself, taking the vodka right in front of him, thinking of teasing him some more by tossing her head back, and giving him an excellent view of bare neck. She couldn't remember how often she had seen it done in the movies, but she was in an adventurous mood that night, and so grabbed one of the larger pieces of ice and started to trace out the curve of her neck, all the way down to the edge of the top. The movies were right, the guy's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and the tiny trail of drool was escaping along the side of his mouth. Fumbling with his wallet, he side a white business card with his name and number across the bar, only for her to look it over once, and slip the card inside the cup of her strap less bra, his nose almost staring to bleed. She left him then with her water in tow, the mooning boy surrounded by customers screaming for orders while he watched her, well certain parts of her, walk back unto the dance floor, and her partner in crime, who at that point had taken up several partners of her own. Grabbing one of the men by his arm, she started to dance, swaying back and forth against a hard warm body, his grip slowly closing in around her waist, her mind lulled into a state of unfettered bliss. Suddenly she was in a darkened place, quiet and huge and utterly alone, with a man behind her, made of plastic, then of flesh; she felt his hands on her body, her clothes slipping off her, watching herself in a mirror with that Adonis behind her. The light and his heat, odd sounds and flying, landing on a bed, the touching, stroking, kneading, kissing; oh Kami, the pleasure, then the pain and more pleasure. And over and over again four words, deep rumbling voice, turning her to jelly, such pure white light.

"Look at yourself, woman." Pure black eyes, hard as death, holding every torment and horror of hell staring down at her in ecstasy, giving it in return; he was so beautiful. She almost cried out when reality once more asserted itself, that magnificent moment washed away in the blaring dance music. Even if a cry could not have been heard, the shattering of the water glass drew the attention of everyone around her, the room now swimming with the quantity of alcohol she had consumed.

"Mona," she moaned to the red headed woman who was now unsteadily walking towards her. "I think I'm done, I was wondering if you wanted to go home, because I'm very close to falling to the floor and making that home." Nodding in agreement, Mona had to brace herself against one of the men standing around her as the head seemed to spin at that movement, a definite sign that she had had too much. Grasping unto each other for balance, it was truly a miracle that the duo made it to the coat check without falling, or getting grabbed, Bulma reasoned, looking at the couples still left on the floor. Coats wrapped around them, they stumbled out of the door and into the frigid air of the mid December evening, the cold providing instant relief to their drunken states, though it could only do so much. Screaming and laughing, they wove their way through the late night city streets, their confused minds looking out for any signs of usable transportation, anything to get them out of the cold.

"Is, is it normal for your face to go numb?" Bulma asked, for a first experience with a large amount of alcohol she had overdone herself.

"Depends, is it because of the booze or the cold? Oh, my Kami, my legs, I can't feel my legs! Oh wait, there they are." Mona crooned, her good mood far nicer than that of her friend.

"Oh don't worry, Bulma, we'll get a taxi home, sleep this off and wish we had been a lot smarter tonight in the morning." They came at her without a sound, one moment she was gripping at the side of a building for balance, the next, she was flying, or falling, the light too low and her assailant too fast for her to even register what was happening. She felt taloned claws, the touch cold and terrifying, soon to be replaced with burning pain as she skidded across cement of some filthy side alley, the force of her fall ripping through the material of clothing, and scrapping her hands, knees and cheek. The burst of pain dulled quickly but not her fear; whatever had thrown her into the alley was still there; high pitched, shrieking voices revolving around her, eyes watching her in sadistic delight. She couldn't even tell how many there were, there seemed like there were hundreds around her and more coming every second, but she couldn't watch, her own eyes shut tight, praying for it to be over. She tried to scream out for help, or fight of the attack but her body was frozen in fear, she couldn’t move; she felt hands ripping at her clothes and digging into her flesh, the creature seemed to feed off of her fear. Oh Kami, she didn't want to die, her body beginning to resist their grabs by pure instinct, kicking out and punching at the mysterious razor sharp hands but her meagre blows all but went through them, her hits never connecting with anything. At a particularly loud scream from the creature, she screamed out with her rediscovered and found enough courage to open her eyes, immediately closing them and starting to scream at the top of her lungs. It had been a second, at first her eyes could make out nothing more than just the shadows from the far off street light until one of the shadows moved and lunged at her, and she caught sight of two red burning eyes staring at her from the centre of one of the moving shadows. She couldn't even breath for the fear that had gripped her, why was this happening to her, what had she done in her life, what was she going to do, her mind blurring into the realm of raving. This had to be some kind of nightmare, this wasn't happening, all she had to do was wake up. She almost wanted to cry out in relief when she saw light, bright and distinct through her eyelids, it was a dream; until she heard an explosion behind her that caused the whole ground to shake beneath her. The shadow goblins suddenly stop in their assault, the hands and claws no longer slashing at her, but the noise, their voices so loud and harsh and almost filled with fear that she gritted her teeth and covered her ears.

"Ilm Hilk, Yasia-jin, Yasia-jin Heia!" The first clear syllables attacked her ears, as all the creatures began to scream, the sound like a battle cry to rally them all together, all against their new foe, and Bulma's newest saviour; and all hell seemed to break loose. Pandemonium was all around her, the alley vibrating with the sounds of the battle, trash cans thrown against walls and the sickening scream of those devilish spirits as they joined them, tiny explosions and flashes of light proving to her that this was something completely other worldly. Taking the tiny reprieve offered to her, Bulma crawled away from the front line to the side of the alley, huddling herself into a ball and again praying that her saviour survived, and that he was not a worse demon than those he was facing. Covering her face to stay off the bleeding from her cut and the cold from her face, she peeked through her fingers at the fight, all she could see was wave after wave of the shadow creatures attacking, the other fighter's body obscured from view. Then all at once, a blinding light burned out for the epicentre of the demons, at the feeling of light against their darker natures, the shadows screamed and wailed and melted into nothing but a flash of dull light that was growing stronger with every kill by her defender's hands. Looking with dread and anticipation at the centre of the alley, for a glimpse of her unearthly protector, the alley once more filled with the shriek of the shadowy apparitions, one in particularly that was racing straight at her.

"Urpe Noe Sgu Temt!" It screamed, like an unholy chorus, the noise so painful to her ears that she covered them, and tried to huddle into a protective ball. But she couldn't hide from it, those pair of seemingly flying eyes rushing for her, one raven like talons striking out at her, nicking her cheek and drawing the most minute amount of blood. It cried out again, in either pain or ecstasy and darted at her again, talons drawn, those blood red eyes burning in malevolence; only to have him disappear in a flash of dull grey light. It took her a second to get over the shock of the creature's sudden demise right in front of her, of the whole attack when the sound of a shoe against the cement saw her attention, oh my Kami, she had to be dreaming. Standing before her scowling at her, his face half in the shadows, half illuminated by the low street lamp light and dressed in the same leather jacket she had always seen him sporting was her mannequin, or the man from her dreams. She had to be sleeping, was really nice and warm in her bed, regretting the morning when all of the alcohol was going to get its revenge, not just attacked by shadows are saved by a gorgeous mannequin come to life; this sort of thing never happened in real life. It almost became a stand off between them, Bulma's mind blank as to what to say to a man who could have possibly saved her life, thank you seemed a very pitiful expression of her gratitude. She didn't even know how but she felt that there was more between them then just this night, the way he was looking at her was like a man returning to a cherished lover, or one returning to a piece of unfinished business. When he didn't lash out at her like the beasts from before, she clumsily made her way up the side of the wall, her fright and drunkenness making it an almost impossible task; note to self, she thought, vodka is not your friend. She didn't know what she had done to earn it but that stony face suddenly smiled, the gesture so small it would have been missed if she hadn't been watching him so closely, and all her fear melted away. By whatever madness had taken grip of her life had finally taken over her and she actually threw her hands around his neck and buried her head in his chest, mindless rambling and thanking him for saving her life. He had stiffened at her touch, his body truly like stone, but it was so warm and just the feel of him, so familiar and comforting as if she had been held in his arms before, she oddly quipped to herself. At that thought, the immovable body against her shifted slightly, and her ears filled with a soft breathless chuckle; the bastard was laughing at her, from the sound of him she would have thought her inner thoughts were on display for him or something. That he would start laughing at her, after all she had been through, after she had showed him such gratitude made her blood boil with an anger she didn't even know she possessed. Opening her mouth with every intention of ripping a strip out him, she felt her body being pressed tightly against his, two thick arms that felt as if they were made out of lead wrapping around her waist, and she stayed his tongue lashing, if only for the moment.

"Silly wench, don't you know how to stay out of trouble?" It was that voice again, the one she had heard so often in her dreams, that would turn her insides to jelly, and again, it was insulting her. Her mind whirled at the sound of him, those simple words conjuring up a dozen of memories, like half forgotten dreams in the morn: a peaceful glade with a pond as calm as a mirror. And then jumping into the pond, watching him die once, and swimming him to the surface to save him from another fiery death, living the pain along him as the flames that burned at him lashed out at her as well for daring to save him.

"You seem to be able to get into a good deal of trouble yourself." She bit back, but her voice held no more malice than a child professing its love to a parent, and she held him tighter; Kami, he was so strong, he couldn't possibly be human. Even after everything that had happened she still felt so infinitely safe around him, like being home.

"That's not a bad idea." He spoke again, as he loosened one arm from around her waist and fingered the cut on her cheek. About to ask him what he meant by that, she was once more filled with fear as he jumped in the air and started to fly. She wanted to cry, or scream at him, it was even in her mind to tell him to let her go, but she was too overcome with the realisation that she was actually flying and her mouth was in much the same state. The only thing she really could do was to pull herself against him as securely as her meagre arms could, and let him chuckle at her fear. Suddenly the frigid air that had been enveloped her had disappeared, replaced by the most pleasing warmth, her curiosity over that outweighing her fear and she let up her grip, her eyes going wide in amazement. She was surrounded by light, bright pale blue light, so warm and utterly beautiful and she had never felt so safe her whole life, just being in his arms and protected from the world by his otherworldly power. Somehow during the flight she relaxed enough to actually feel her eyes lids begin to close, the horrors of the day wearing down on her strength and she fell asleep, secure in the belief that he wouldn't let her fall.

***

Removing the last shreds of the clothes the shadow demons all but ripped off her body; his master must have been getting desperate, or maybe it was Damia's doing, she had known about Bulma's existence, what a better way for her to get at him then through the human. How could something so beautiful, so innocent be such a danger, well, she was not so innocent anymore, and looking at her scraped, half naked body he almost had half a mind to try it again. Damn it, what kind of warrior's control was that, even his dreams she seemed to haunt him; besides, she was far too injured and tired to try something like that, and he needed to get something on her before he really did lose it. Ripping through the last of the constrictive material around her torso, his face almost went red as he saw something sticking out of her bra, a piece of paper with what looked like a man's name and several numbers, his eyes burning red with jealous at the thought of anyone but him touching her. Taking care to not wake her, he slipped card from between her bosom, burning it with his ki in his anger and stomping off towards the dresser to see if he could find something to cover her beyond just a blanket. Pulling open one drawer, he almost went red again but caught himself enough to scowl fierce at the various pairs of underwear and bras that he found; maybe he'd have better luck with the closet. Finally grabbing out something that would cover her enough, he began the task of making bandages from her bleeding wounds, within a few moments even the bed sheet around her was reduced to scrap, and everything but the mark on her face had been dressed. Now though, came the difficult part, actually dressing her; the woman must sleep like the dead, she hadn't even woken up while he was wrapping her wounds, which meant that it was now his job, as he was the one that was getting far too uncomfortable with the sight of her half naked. Grabbing hold of her unresponsive body, the barest of breath coming from her parted lips signifying that she was even alive, he began his task, made all the more difficult by the fact that it meant he had to keep touching her. What irony is this, he thought, finally getting one arm through her sleeve, the number of times he had undressed a woman, this was the first time he ever had to do the reverse. It had been one of the hardest task he had even undertaken, feeling that body right next to his, her soft skin and the smell of her hair forever on his nose and he couldn't touch her, was actually struggling to get her into the loosest clothing she owned. When he got the last pant leg on, he placed her on the bed once more, oddly amazed that she hadn't even move through the whole thing; she must have been exhausted, a feeling he well understood. He knew he should have been thinking about what Stalaunt had told him, or what the attack by those shadow demons had meant, but all he wanted was to sleep, what did the attack matter, he saved her, could keep her safe and they should be safe, at least until morning. Taking up a seat on the floor, just below the window, he allowed himself the opportunity to shut his eyes and relax for just a moment. Hours or minutes later, it seemed as if he had just shut his eyes, his keen ears picked up muffled moaning and rustling sounds coming from the bed, his charge finally waking up. What was he really going to say to her, confess who he was, what was truly happening, that she was being hunted down by the lord of Hell so he could slowly drain her of her life force? Would she even remember what had happened last night, or the night so many weeks ago? Getting to his feet, he tapped on her shoulder and roiled her over, her eyes still shut tight, as she moaned and smirked in her sleep. What, smirked, about to shake her awake, he cried out in horrific surprise as her eye lids slid open, to reveal to bright blood red orbs shining out of her head, and she shrieked out in a demonic language that wrenched through his brain. His reflexes slowed by shock and exhaustion, he couldn't even stop her as she swept to her feet and backhanded him across the face. The blow was far stronger than anything a human could muster and it sent him flying across the room, colliding very painfully against the opposite wall, knocking him into the oppressive darkness of consciousness. The violent hit did awaken someone though, the front door of the apartment flying open with a bang and a single red haired woman in a white night gown rushing into the dimly lit apartment, crying out a single name. She too stopped short as she beheld the body of the woman she was looking for, but the mind was gone, the woman frozen in place as she looked into those glowing eyes. About to run from the apartment in terror, she didn't get any farther from than the front door before she ran into a wall of pure muscle and bone, and looked into another face with glowing red eyes.

"Bulma, Rai, what is going … ." With one heavy hand against the temple the woman went silent and limp, crumbling to the floor before the huge possessed human.

"Should we take her with us?" The big door men asked, his red eyes completely focused on the diminutive woman walking towards him.

"Of course, the master would be well pleased to know that we recovered Damia, leave the Saiyajin though, I want to get out of this body and get it down to the Master before anything else happens to it." The shadow demon said through Bulma's voice, the sound coming out harsh and distorted. Shrugging his acceptance, the larger of the two grabbed the unconscious woman and slung her over his shoulder, watching patiently as his companion began to recite an ancient rite and a red hued vortex opened before their eyes.

* * * * *