Trigger Warning: Please be advised, that while I have endeavored to avoid explicitly graphic content, this fic contains references to rape and violence that may be triggering to survivors of abuse.

Part One: Bulma

This is the way our world ended.

King Koku was on the TV when I came upstairs from my lab in the early AM of the day that the invasion began, but I was jonesing for another cup of coffee and caught up in my latest project, and it didn't seem worth my attention. His voice droned on in the background as I filled my coffee mug, advising calm in the coming crisis. And what of it? There was always some new crisis, and jowly old Koku with his deep set eyes and hangdog expression – who'd never been anything more than a figurehead anyway – was always advising people to remain calm in the face of it.

I didn't worry. Hell, I could take anything that the world had to throw at me, and if couldn't then Son would always be there to make things right. I'd seen Goku only a week earlier, when we'd had our little reunion out at Kame House. Terrifying, the thought of him and Chichi being parents, when those two were really still kids themselves, but that little Gohan had been a cutie.

Later, I'd wonder if Koku hadn't cut a deal with the invaders. If he did – if he had thought he could save his own tail by selling the rest of us out – then I don't think it worked out for him. I never saw him again after that broadcast.

Anyway, someone talked. Someone told the aliens that they could find the most advance tech the planet had to offer right here at Capsule Corp., because the invaders knew just where to come to snag all the best swag.

I was on my way back downstairs when I heard it; heavy footfalls on the floorboards overhead. There was someone inside the house, maybe a whole lot of someones, and they were headed for the kitchen. I froze on the steps, a million jumbled thoughts racing through my head. Then I put indecision behind me and, creeping up the steps quietly, I cracked open the basement door peered out through the gap with one eye.

There were at least five of them out there. Big guys with big muscles, all dressed in some type of weird armor that showed off way more than I needed to see. I wondered how they'd gotten past the security robots, and I wondered what they wanted.

While I was watching, one of the men opened the kitchen cabinets and began to rifle through the contents, tossing everything that didn't interest him over his shoulder. Two others were raiding the fridge; I couldn't see them clearly from this angle, because they were bent over behind the fridge door. But I saw one shove against the other's shoulder, and then – faster than I could blink – the first one was flat on his back on a pile of splinters that had up until then been my kitchen table.

The winner, a hulking bald-headed giant, stepped away from the fridge, the better part of a leftover leg of lamb clutched in his fist. He glanced around the kitchen, then the toaster seemed to catch his attention, and he stepped over to it. The giant leaned over the counter, studying the toaster with an intensely serious stare, while he gnawed pensively on the bony end of the lamb leg. "Hey, Vegeta," the man said, without taking his eyes off the toaster; his face was reflected back at me in its chrome surface, hawk-nosed and slightly cross-eyed. "Do you think this is worth anything?"

No one answered him, but for the first time a smaller man stepped into my field of vision. Not counting hair, he only stood chest-high to the smallest of the others, but when the haughty little prig came near them they shied away. Ignoring the bald man, the short guy crossed his arms over his chest and stood in the center of the room, looking around the room with hooded eyes and frowning like none of it was up to his standards.

He looked in my direction, and though his eyes passed over the door without pausing, the situation suddenly became real to me when I saw those mean little eyes turned my way; half a dozen strange men had broken into Capsule Corp., somehow in the process disabling the best security system in the world. They were violent and they were strong, and I had no idea what they were after. If this was some sort of industrial espionage operation then whoever had hired them was paying too much. Did they know about the Dragon Radar or -

Somewhere nearby something exploded. The men looked toward the sound, though strangely without a lot of surprise, and I took the opportunity to let the basement door slip shut, and began to creep down the stairs quietly. Up above, I heard one of the men say, "Somebody's having more fun than we are," and a couple of the others laughed.

Another said, "The stuff's supposed to be underground," and when I heard that I started to run through the lab, my feet slapping against the concert floor. I ducked into one of the storage closets and closed the door behind me. Upstairs, I heard the basement door open and the tromp of boots coming down the steps.

It was dark in the closet, the only light filtering in from under the door. I moved among the boxes and shelves carefully, trying to keep quiet. I knew the old trunk was in there somewhere, and I felt my way around the piles of junk, trying to find it. Whenever the rumble of nearby explosions paused I stopped too, holding very still and listening to the movements on the other side of the door. By then, though, the sounds of destruction had become almost constant. Over the distant thundering I could hear the men moving around in my lab.

"We looking for anything special?" I heard what I was pretty sure was the voice of the big bald man say.

"Anything that you don't recognize might be worth keeping," another answered.

My fingers brushed over the scarred lid of the trunk that I'd been looking for, and I unlatched it and lifted the lid slowly, hoping that the worn hinges wouldn't betray me by squealing. Inside the trunk, it smelled like memories – like all the adventures Son and I had had together back when we were just kids. I reached under my old parka, past a box of capsules, shoved a pair of swamp boots and a ruck sack to the the side, and finally I found what it was that I needed. I lifted the gun from the trunk, and cold and heavy comfort, then I reached back inside to grab the box of cartridges. I took two from the box and loaded the shotgun carefully, feeling my way through the process in the dark. Then I got to my feet and waited.

When the little man opened the closet door, I didn't so much as hesitate. He looked up at me, his face in shadow, though the light that flowed in through the open was enough to make me squint. Then he smirked, and I brought the shotgun up and fired – once, then again, and each time the stock bucked painfully against my shoulder. I aimed for his face, because I didn't know if his armor was real or just a costume.

He took both barrels at point blank range, and didn't even blink. His smirk got wider, and that was all. The others came up behind him, and they all wore the very same smirks; cruel half-smiles, that only pulled up the right side of the mouth, revealing just a flash of white teeth.

The short one reached out and took the gun from me, crumbling its barrel between his fingers like it was a paper tube. I tried to take a step back, but tripped over something, and fell back into the trunk. I floundered, trying to get back to my feet without taking my eyes off them, and that was when I noticed – the short one had a tail. No - they all had furry brown tails. Just like Son Goku.