DISCLAIMER: DB/DBZ/DBGT not mine. However, a few figurines are.

Just an idea that hit me like a tidal wave and I just couldn't wait to write it all down. A short drabble. Mild language but overall, tame. Also, I apologise for all mistakes.

Read and review, but most importantly, enjoy!

| ImaginaryInk |

"Life... was never fair – was never kind," the man who sits stoically in the chair started quietly, his voice carries a melancholic tune, "... still is."

The lights are off, save for the little bulb that tends to flicker eerily on the far end corner of the room. Though he sits in the large leather seat, his form is hidden and shrouded in the darkness, away from prying eyes; except for the bright blue ones staring back at him with great intensity and a morbid twinkle, her ears clinging onto his every word.

But he continues as he grievingly brings her down the path of his past, "My planet, my people, and my father were all taken from me at the mere age of seven. And what did a little boy like me know back then?" he pauses, sending the blue-haired female a nasty glare as his eyes glaze over and he spits, "Nothing! The only things I had were the clothes on my back and my sheer strength bound to me the day I was born as a saiyan prince."

His dark eyes glare into the now teary sapphire orbs. He inwardly sneers at her as she whimpered quietly, but he continues without the slightest regard to her uneasiness.

"The first month being reeled into the tyrant's reign, I was lost and almost gone," he perches his elbow on the armrest, and rests his right temple against his fingers. He shrugs nonchalantly, with eyes trained on a particular spot on the wall just mere inches behind the female's head. He tsk-ed, "I was perpetually hyperventilating in the dark of the night at every nightmare that came to me, only to be smacked in the face with the reality that came with morning. It became worst after two weeks when I publicly displayed my first bout of rage," he frowns deeply; disgusted by that piece of memory as he recalls the near fatal beating he got right after that.

"I killed almost half of the people on the ship. Then, my... condition... became so, so bad that my comrades were forced to find ways to sedate me before I went to sleep every night, lest I kill myself without even knowing it."

That memory pains him still, but she wanted to know. Even after the evil glare he gave her as he stared her down with the meanest scowl he could muster, she still wouldn't back down. Typical.

Why are you like this? Tell me anything, she asked, because she was curious and perhaps, frightened. So he does.

"Of course, there was Raditz, a second-class saiyan, also known as that idiot Kakarot's brother, – you know, the one you all love and worship in the most sickening fervour – though not as idiotic. And then, there was Nappa the elite. Strong, mostly brawn, and a full blooded idiot," he murmurs the last trait, his fingers skilfully swirling and playing with a tiny ki ball which he mindlessly formed in his palm just moments ago. The humanoid presence before him squirms uncomfortably at the sight of the bright sphere, yet mesmerised at the same time. But he doesn't care. He ignores her as he inwardly thrives in the beginning of her obvious discomfiture.

"Were they… your friends?" she asks in a tiny voice, afraid that the intimidating man might take her down another road of harsh punishment if she had spoken louder than he'd like, but she had to know.

"No. Raditz died at the hands of Kakarot while Nappa…" he swallows at the thought, "Nappa died by my hands. I murdered him," he says cooly and she closes her eyes, her ruby lips set in a grim line. But she listens on as he continued.

"They both were weaklings," he pauses and leans towards her as he relinquishes the ki-ball, his darks eyes bore into hers, "I came here for one reason, and one damn reason only. And yet they both failed me. Even that idiot Kakarot had to foil my plans. Raditz had to die prematurely and Nappa just had to kill the one source that made the mystical orbs," he spits but regains his composure as he leans back into the seat once again.

"The dragon balls," she breaths through her dry lips. He ignores her.

"Although the Earth's dragon balls perished along with Kami, the Planet Namek's ones took wind right after. So after beating that stupid Kakadolt into a pulp, I returned to Frieza's base only to find out that the bastard already took off for the same damn reason I had. So, I pursued like a madman and I guess I don't have to tell you what happened after that," he sneers at the memory as they replay in his head like a broken radio. Surely it has nothing to do with the number of times the incident has been repeated by mouths of others, and it always comes back to him. Perhaps just to spite him and his existence, "That much you know."

She whimpers as her weak mind suddenly could not stop itself from thinking about the things which happened after that, or even before that. She's heard so many stories about this man; mostly how much blood has tainted his hands before and during Namek.

"Demolishing lives has always been a thrill for me," he suddenly smirks at her, making her shrink with fear at his words.

"H-how can you say that?"

"When your enemies are the bad guys, then you kill, lest be killed."

"But what about those – "

"What about them?"

"They're innocent, right?" She doesn't need to mention who she was referring to because he knew.

"Hmph," he scoffs, rolling his eyes at her as she suddenly reminds him of someone he knows; someone fairly familiar. Oh, he knows very well who she meant by 'innocent' so he continues to let her know why he did it.

"Those green goblins were a difficult lot. I had a mission: to be free – free from that mockery of a leader and only immortality can give me that freedom. I could almost taste it. It was taunting me, tempting me at the very tip of my tongue before I could swallow it whole. And the only obstacle at the time that stood before me was those Nameks from that village. The weak shall perish, and the strong shall rise above," he finishes his rant with an ugly sneer, somewhat glad that she didn't retort, but stares back at him with steady eyes.

"Do you regret it?" her voice softens as she daringly questions him, though her eyes do not meet his.

Silence permeates the room, and after what seemed like an eternity but was merely just a minute, he breaks it with a simple "No."

Her eyes finally meet his, but Vegeta's dark gaze varnishes with a distant memory and his smirk returns in a full-blown nasty sneer.

"Zarbon was easy," he suddenly says before turning his attention back to the dainty frame before him, "I remember fighting him the first time. He was stronger than me then and I knew he had a second form, but knowing that I was able to force him to even transform made it all the more better. It made my blood boil with battle lust. And even though he maimed me down in a matter of seconds, the fact remains that he had to transform to fight me, because he knew that I had indeed gotten stronger. But of course, I let him think he had the upper hand."

He leans back into the chair as he speaks of that triumphant battle, and smirks.

"The second fight with him was easier. Saiyans heal fast and strength increases exponentially, all these facts you already know. The fall I took from the first fight with the feminine faggot had me almost at the brink of death. So when he took me back to recover under Frieza's order, and when I did, I didn't waste any more time destroying everything and everyone in my path," he chuckles heartily at this memory. He recalls stealing the dragon balls from the controls room, right from under the tyrant's noses. It was just too easy.

"I remember laughing with a sick, twisted glee as I stealthily roamed the hallways of Frieza's ship and took all the dragon balls. They didn't find me. I was eager to win, eager to obtain immortality, eager to kill Frieza and the farce of a life I had. So when I finally met Zarbon once more, he had to go. All of them had to go. It didn't take much to taunt him into transforming again. And I remember... I remember smiling at him in the most pleasant of moods than I ever had been in a long, long time. Then, I landed the fatal and final blow into his guts."

Upon hearing this, the girl sniffles and mewls mildly in distress, disturbed by the vivid description of that kill. But Vegeta ignores her, engrossed with his tale and too determined to finish it.

"His bones cracked where my knuckles came in contact with and mashed innards slipped into my fist. I relished in the feel that with every twist of my wrist, I curled his intestines into a knot, blood spurting in all directions and dripping onto the ground that he eventually died on. I fired," he finishes his Zarbon tale with a sadistic smile plastered on his handsome features. After what seemed like forever, the girl's soft sniffling snaps him out of his stupor and he returns back to the present day.

He turns back to the girl whose lips are now trembling with fear. She does not dare cry because she doesn't want to appear weak in front of this man. But in the back of her mind, she wonders about how she had brought this... this sick therapy session upon herself. Though at the same time, she couldn't keep her teary blue eyes away from the intimidating man as he traps her with his own intense gaze.

"It doesn't end there, though, for there was more to follow," Vegeta tilts his head a miniscule amount to the right, regarding her in a way like as if he is the one confused, and her being the one who needed to convey the tales.

"I made sure that I incinerated that green freak, just as I had Dodoria, as I send him down to be with that ugly pink –"

Before he could finish the last bit of his tale, he snaps to subtle attention as he senses a dark presence loom behind him. Curse his lack of attention as the hairs on his neck stand on end. He stiffens in the large leather seat and ever so slowly, stands up tall, silently displaying his fearlessness to the intruder. The girl gives a tiny gasp as she stares past Vegeta and into the smouldering eyes of the new arrival.

Her eyes bulge and Vegeta hears her swallow aloud. His limbs are rigid and his spine straightened. Clenching his fists, he inwardly berates the girl before him for making him remember things, naturally distracting him and making him less aware of his surroundings. And he also berates himself for throwing all vigilance out the window. He tries to remember if there was ever a brief second when he subconsciously sensed this intruder some time into their 'storytelling' session.

Once. There was one micro-mini second that he did.

He recalls now. And with that, he put the pieces together and suddenly realises that this dark force has been hiding in the shadows like a pathetic coward, waiting for the right time to pounce on him when he least expects it.

The little female whimpers and looks away. Maybe if she pretends to be unconscious, the two tensed beings now in the small room would take their inevitable brawl somewhere far away from her. Yeah, she'd do that. And so she closes her eyes.

Even with his back to the threat which hovers just metres behind him, he knows his every move is being watched, his every word heard. Eyes are glaring with unrivalled intensity, seemingly burning a hole in his back and he feels it. He breathes inaudibly. Instinctively, the veins in the stub of his missing tail shudder in agitation and he inwardly curses himself; he has been careless, and presses his lips in a tight line as he allows the force behind him to so casually invade his space.

But before he lets the presence come even an inch near him, Vegeta moves away and pads towards the girl, who is now pretending to be asleep (he knew). He makes a beeline for her and lifts a hand to her blue head with every intent to finish what he started when he came to her an hour before.

"And they lived happily ever after," he murmurs before leaning downwards, gently brushing away her blue tendrils and giving Bra a quick kiss on the forehead.

He turns around to face his wife, the said dark force, who was leaning on her sides, with arms firmly folded, on the leather chair he had been occupying. She regards him aloofly as she bores her eyes into his dark ones, her lips frowning deeply.

Vegeta stares at her cooly, but soon his agitation catches up with him as Bulma merely stands there and glares at him.

"What?" he snaps innocently, hoping that she didn't hear the kind of bedtime story he has been feeding their daughter just moments ago. Though he knows the woman probably did. Yeap, he has been careless and that pisses him off. Age must be catching up with him, not to mention the laid back lifestyle Earth has bestowed him. He sighs inwardly. Gone were those days when fighting and battling were the only things driving him. Time like this he regrets ever settling down on this mudball planet.

He couldn't even come up with a proper sentence structure out of sheer embarrassment!

"Is this your idea of putting Bra to sleep?" Bulma finally says, her own anger rising. At this, he raises an eyebrow.

And Bulma scoffs, "I can't believe this. She's FOUR! You'll give her nightmares."

"She's a growing girl. She will know eventually anyway. It's only a matter of time," he argues and pouts angrily before folding his arms, which reminds Bulma of a very, very childish feat he's pulled many, many years ago in his first week on CC grounds.

Another 15 years, maybe! She screams in her head, an ugly scowl forms on her lips without her realising it.

She narrows her glare and is about to snap at her insufferable husband before she remembers where they were. One second she was scowling and the next, putting on a cheery mask (which, for years, Vegeta has suspected that his wife could be bipolar), Bulma rounds her husband and pads towards Bra, - who is watching quietly at their childish exchange – their banter temporarily forgotten. Unlike Vegeta's aloofness, Bulma gently sits on the edge of her bed and leans down before kissing her baby on both cheeks, smiling down at her, and wishing her goodnight.

Vegeta remains where he stood as he watches the gentle exchange. Seeing that he is no longer needed, he strides out the door and leans against the wall just outside of it. He slips into his standard stance; folded arms, crossed ankles, chin lowered, and eyes closed for inner focus.

Bulma emerges two minutes after that and gently shuts the door behind her, leaving the hallways in which they stood dark and shadowy. They stand like that for a good minute and stare into each other's eyes. Bulma may not be able to completely see the blackened pits of his eyes, but he sure could see the tired gleam burning through hers.

"She heard your conversation with Trunks," he states quietly, before motioning his mate towards their room with an inclination of his head.

She obediently (more like mindlessly) follows, her brows descended into a tight knot as she tries to recall the conversation.

"Dad locked himself in the GR again, Mom."

"How long this time?" she asked without lifting her head from the science journal in her hand.

"It's been over 17 hours now. I doubt he'll stop anytime soon. He just keeps going. Is he okay?"

"That infuriating man! It's just like him to go through midlife crisis every 20 years!" Bulma bellowed angrily as she slammed the journal onto the counter top she was leaning on just moments ago. Trunks winced.

"What is he, indisputable? I swear I'll kill him if he kills himself!"

"Mom, take it easy. You'll burst a vein," the panicked teenager rushed over to his mother's aid and calmed her down.

"Oh, Trunks," she quivered and slinked into the tall kitchen island stool, "I'll never understand why your father does this to himself. But don't worry," she smiled reassuringly, "He always comes off it," she stated as her eyes roamed past the kitchen window where the GR capsule stood in its glory once upon a time, bringing her back to an ancient time.

In reality, the GR that housed the stubborn saiyan is located on the far west wing of the house. "He's never had it easy as a child, and I don't think he ever will recover from it, not fully," she trailed off in a daze, her mind clouded with imaginations from his past.

Reeling in sad understanding, both grownups were oblivious to the measly energy force of two hovering by the kitchen door.

Realisation hits her hard and she grabs Vegeta's bicep before sliding herself into his arms. She hugs him tightly at his torso and whispers incoherently, which Vegeta catches a few choice words like 'it's not your fault', 'Bra's still little', and 'I'm sorry'.

The prince reluctantly returns the hug to his mate, but he does so anyway. She may not cry, but she is now upset and he doesn't like it. He also doesn't understand why she had reacted badly in the first place. Ahh, yes. She definitely heard the things he spewed to his daughter, and she caught him. And so she makes him promise that there will be no more until at least Bra is old enough. Reluctantly, but glad that Bulma will stop her bitching, he agreed.

Vegeta silently thanked the Gods that Bulma doesn't know that these 'sick storytelling' sessions have been a recurring feat in the last three weeks. A wicked smirk graces his lips and he playfully rolls his eyes, mainly at himself, before recalling how much Bra enjoys the stories of his past. That smirk grows into a tender smile before he deduces that Bulma should never have to know about that either.

THE END

Well, I hope that was entertaining and wasn't disappointing.