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chockfullofsecrets · 5 years

Text

Cute

Rating: Gen

Summary: Every so often, the drunk tickle monster side of Aizawa surfaces. Mic decides to spread the love.

Word Count: 1725

A/N: I maaaay have borrowed this prompt from @thatawfulgoat‘s blog - thanks and sorry!

Every so often, drunk Aizawa got a little cuddlier than usual.

The last time it happened, Hizashi had managed to drag him all the way to his tiny apartment without incident, more than a little buzzed himself. Then he’d tried to bundle his friend onto the couch, and Aizawa had latched on to him and refused to let go.

Hizashi had rubbed his back, amused but a little concerned at this stark contrast to his usually grim colleague. “Hey, Eraser, let me grab you some water or something? Jelly pack?”

Yeah, he kept jelly packs in his apartment. He and Aizawa practically lived in each other’s pockets anyway.

Aizawa mumbled something and rolled face first into Hizashi’s lap, blowing a raspberry straight into his belly. Hizashi very manfully resisted the urge to shriek loud enough to shatter all the windows, half from the sheer adorableness and half from the fact that it tickled. It tickled very, very much.

Aizawa, the asshole, seemed perfectly aware of this, and he made a small happy noise as he hooked Hizashi’s shirt up with one hand and went in for another raspberry. This time, he couldn’t quite restrain his laugh. “AizaWAHA! STOHOP!”

He caught just the edge of his friend’s devious grin, but it was enough to know that such reasonable mercy would not be forthcoming.

It went on like that for a few minutes, the buzz of Aizawa’s lips and his snatches of hysteria chasing each other around the room, and Hizashi was getting a little desperate. It wasn’t that he hated it, not at all – Aizawa rarely loosened up enough to play with him like this, and he was a sucker for any kind of cuddling, even the slobbery and extremely mean kind that his friend was currently dishing out.

The thing was, tickles from Aizawa usually came with a built-in quirk dampener to keep him from leveling the building. With Aizawa oblivious to everything except his belly, it seemed like access to this very necessary factor would be unforthcoming.

Hands clamping his own jaw shut, he tried to get something, anything, of his predicament to register. “Zawa, Zahahawa, c’mon. I cahaHAN’T – we’re gonna hurt someohoHONE – ERASERHEAD!”

That last bit had the glasses in the kitchen rattling, but Aizawa looked up and frowned at the honest-to-god tears collecting in Hizashi’s eyes. “Yamada. Okay?” he mumbled, dragging his arm halfway around him in a loose hug.

Hizashi laughed, this time in relief as he relaxed back into their ratty couch. “Yeah, buddy, but we can’t do this right now.”

“Oh,” Aizawa frowned harder, blinking his own messy hair away from his eyes. “Okay. But it’s cute.”

“Aww,” Hizashi cooed, carding his fingers through Aizawa’s hair and dissolving a little at the resulting contented sigh. “I’m gonna get so much blackmail out of tonight.”

Aizawa firmly denied everything the next morning, but that didn’t keep Hizashi from teasing him about it for a week straight.

It was a pretty rare occurrence, anyway, only happening a few times in the nearly-a-decade they had known each other for. As far as Hizashi could figure, the presence of drunken tickle monster Aizawa required a perfect storm of Aizawa being fairly concerned about the happiness of his drinking partner and plastered enough to demonstrate that affection through the most direct method he had of cheering someone up.

So it stood to reason that the next time it happened, they would be out drinking with Yagi.

Bakugou had been safely returned to his family about two weeks previous, Yagi four days out of the hospital, and Hizashi had tracked both of them down and literally dragged them into a cab, telling them that even if neither of them wanted to drink they could at least enjoy the bar’s music and make sure he didn’t sing along loud enough to shatter the eardrums of every other patron.

Yagi was nursing a green tea, as he usually did, but with some persuasion Aizawa was convinced to drink along with him. They stumbled out together, he and Aizawa with arms around each other’s shoulders and Yagi trailing behind. As they waited for a cab, Hizashi felt Aizawa poke curiously at his side and had a very evil idea.

“Hey, Yagi-san, would you mind holding on to Aizawa for me? I think we’re both going to fall over in a little bit.”

Yagi looked down at his cast with a little trepidation, but was willing enough to drape his undamaged arm over Aizawa’s shoulders and let the dark-haired man lean against him. They stayed like that the whole way back to Hizashi’s apartment, Hizashi watching in barely concealed glee as Aizawa slumped further and further into the protective hold, and by the time they were all inside Aizawa was firmly entrenched against Yagi’s side, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes as he mumbled something under his breath.

Hizashi tried very hard not to grin evilly at Yagi’s fond expression. “Just sit with him on the couch for a minute, I’m going to grab us all some water.” He took his sweet time rattling around the kitchen, filling three glasses as slowly as possible and listening eagerly for any telltale noises. He realized belatedly that neither he nor Aizawa had tickled Yagi more than a few times – maybe Aizawa wouldn’t go for it – but was quickly reassured by what he heard through the doorway. A little rustling – some hushed whispering, could be either of them – and finally, a hastily muffled squeak.

Balancing all three glasses, he walked back into the other room and couldn’t help laughing at the scene that greeted him.

Aizawa had knocked Yagi flat on his back and was laying pretty much on top of him, pinning Yagi’s forearms firmly against the couch armrest – hopefully he’d been gentle with the cast. He’d left his thumbs free to attack Yagi’s armpits with the single-finger tickles that both he and Yagi dreaded; they always tried to resist them – “it’s a single finger, it shouldn’t affect me this much!” Yagi had confessed with some frustration, snickering the entire time – and ended up a giggling, whimpering mess. And the real triumph – Aizawa was cuddling up to Yagi’s belly, making those adorable happy noises at Yagi’s shivering as he blew gentle raspberries into the undamaged side of his ribcage.

Yagi, for his part, was biting his lip as he tried to avoid laughing. His eyes, squeezed shut, opened a little and sharpened as he heard Hizashi walk in. “Yamada-kun… he just… p-please help, he won’t stop!”

“Help you or him?” Hizashi teased, putting the water down on the coffee table. “He does this sometimes – it’s cute, isn’t it? I think it means he’s worried about you.”

Oh, that was almost certainly a glare. “You knew this was going to happen?”

He shrugged. “It’s pretty rare, but yeah. And you didn’t drink anything at all, so we have to help you relax somehow!”

Yagi bit out a stray giggle as one of Aizawa’s raspberries clipped the sensitive edge of his stomach. “I don’t – it feheels like taking advantage, and I shouldn’t-”

Hizashi smiled wryly. Yagi got like this, sometimes – try to make him relax, and he would fight for every bit of control on the way down, even if he was enjoying himself. “Shouldn’t what? If you say what I think you’re going to, I’m definitely going to be on his side.”

Yagi’s jaw took on a stubborn tilt, still holding back his laughter, and Aizawa made a disappointed sound as his victim tried to sit up. Patting him on the head, Hizashi took a seat on the couch too and pulled Yagi’s feet into his lap. “Chill out, my stubborn listener! It’s not like you’re tricking Zawa into anything – he just wants to hear you laugh, I bet. Ask him!”

“I told you, he’s not really – ah! – paying attention.” “

“Helps if you call him by his hero name. Try again.”

Attempting to catch Aizawa’s eye, Yagi lowered his bony chin onto his chest. “Eraserhead?”

Aizawa looked up, his fingers coming to a clumsy halt. “Yagi. Relax already.”

Yagi shot a look at a snickering Hizashi. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Trying to make you laugh,” Aizawa mumbled, eyes narrowed in sleepy concentration. “Because it makes you happy and it’s cute… this usually works with Yamada… why not for you?”

“Oh,” Yagi said, his breath catching.

Hizashi didn’t wait for him to start feeling bad. “He’s just being stubborn, Aizawa. Want me to help you?”

Aizawa nodded enthusiastically, and Hizashi grinned. “Let me count off a beat for my two favorite listeners, then… one, two, three, go!”

Aizawa went back to his tickling, making a happy noise as Yagi started squirming, a couple laughs escaping him. This was partially due to Hizashi performing another one of Yagi’s most dreaded tickles, gently scratching his nails down the wide arches of the feet trapped under one of his forearms. Yagi choked out a pointed protest at the intrusion, but it didn’t take long until his composure crumbled into hearty gasps of laughter, his head thrown back against the couch as he finally let himself relax into the sensation.

Eventually Aizawa let him be and rolled over into Hizashi’s lap instead, that same sweet-sleepy-devious grin on his face. “Worried about me too, huh?”

“Cute,” Aizawa mumbled, already reaching for his shirt, and Hizashi’s heart melted. Well, Yagi would probably stop things from getting too out of control.

He greeted the first raspberry with a barely muffled squeal, barely noticing Yagi watching in amusement from the other end of the couch. “Gyahaha! Are you – hehe – sure we can’t just cuddle instead?”

Aizawa responded with a particularly mean raspberry, right over his belly button. “No.”

He cackled madly at that, sliding halfway down the couch, and Yagi had to lunge over and rapidly clap a hand over his mouth before he could concuss a hole into the opposite wall.

“Thanks!” he told Yagi in the lull between one bout of laughter and the next. “This is – haha, NAHAHA! Zawa, c’mon! – ha, it’s a little easier with you around.”

“Is it,” Yagi hummed, reaching out and gently tickling the weak spot under his chin with that same fond smile he’d given Aizawa earlier. Hizashi’s eyes widened.

Assaulted in his own home! The nerve!

Those two were lucky that they were cute.

#bnha #aizawa shouta #yagi toshinori #yamada hizashi #tickling #allerasermic #chocfic

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scarletraven1001 · 5 years

Text

Retribution: 4

[Book 1] [Chapter 4]

Summary: An unlikely ally volunteers to help Vegeta and his crew. With a new source of information at hand, things seem to be going well... until something suddenly goes horribly wrong.

A Vegebul Mafia AU Fic, for the @vegebulocracy Big Bang Challenge, 2018

Story Rating: E

Chapter Warnings: Violence, Swearing

All Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

Also on Ao3

8-8-8-8-8

Notes: I would like to thank everyone who has commented on this story so far! Here is the next chapter, and I hope you like it!

8-8-8-8-8

Chapter 4

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma stared, mouth agape, barely daring to believe her ears.

“Did you… did you just say-”

“Tch!” Vegeta answered, snidely turning away from her to glare out the open door of the bedroom that had been her prison for the past five days.

“Vegeta,” she treaded carefully, voice barely above a whisper, “Did you honestly just agree to let me go out into the garden?”

His ears looked nearly red from where she was standing, and she saw him bristle as he turned away from her, beginning to walk out into the hall.

“Hurry up,” he hissed, “before I change my mind.”

She squealed excitedly, jumping up and down in place for a few seconds before she practically flew over to the door, unbelievably happy to be allowed out for the first time in days.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, hands waving around in merriment.

“Don’t thank me, woman,” he said. “I am only letting you out because you are turning rather pale. It would not do for you to get sick. Your father will not negotiate with me if I hand him a dying hostage.”

She hid a wide smile behind her hands as she looked at his back, at the fine hairs that bordered the nape of his thick neck.

She had only been asking him for a small gap in a window so she can breathe in some fresh air, but his sudden decision to allow her to see the sun outdoors shocked her beyond anything she had seen in her entire life.

It was almost euphoric, the feeling of walking along a hallway, and she beamed as she saw the sun streaming in through the wide open windows of the extremely unassuming house.

It occurred to her then, that this could be a good chance… a chance to find a way to worm herself into Vegeta’s graces so that she could make it out alive, unharmed. Perhaps all she needed was to simply play along…

The small structure, like she had previously observed when she was first dragged in, looked nothing like what one would expect from a secret hideout of gangsters.

It was a typical home, with white walls and smooth wooden floors, and the upper floor that she had been on had a long hallway lined with several bedrooms. Downstairs, a standard set of comfortable-looking armchairs sat in the living room. A round wooden table, able to seat six people, sat in the middle of the dining room, and beyond it was a nondescript kitchen that Bulma could see had a simple stove and a large refrigerator.

As she walked a few paces behind Vegeta, she once again saw the picnic table that she had seen before, where a small group of men sat, huddled seriously over a laptop computer.

The thin, dark-haired man with the narrow, icy blue eyes looked up, and she watched as clear surprise flooded his stoic face at the sight of her.

“Prince,” he said, turning to Vegeta, who had stopped walking before her. “What is going on here?”

Vegeta sniffed, moving his hands into the pockets of his pants, his matching dark gray suit jacket bunching up slightly with the movements.

She thought she heard a light, tinkering sound as he moved, like keys coins moving around in a purse…

Or keys jiggling around in a pocket.

She was suddenly reminded of her keys, her keys that held her beloved memento of her childhood friend Vegeta, the tiny space pod toy that she had clutched to herself during all of her darkest hours.

She dearly hoped that they had just left her keys in her flat, instead of throwing them away, because whatever may happen now… she wanted that toy back. Needed it back.

“She needed exercise,” Vegeta answered, pulling her thoughts back to the present, and Bulma nearly grinned as she saw the remaining men shoot questioning glances at their leader.

Goku, who had been sitting near the edge of the table, was the only one who looked up and beamed at her without hesitation.

“Come on out, then!” he called with a slight wave. “The weather is great!”

“Chaotzu,” Vegeta barked, and she watched as a short, pale man with small round eyes bounded up from behind the other men.

Vegeta gestured to her. “Watch her.”

With a nod, the man walked up to Bulma, while she looked back up at Vegeta with a wide grin.

“Thank you,” she said, following Chaotzu, until she stood happily in the middle of the small garden, a few meters away from the men.

She walked aimlessly around the yard, quickly removing her shoes so she could feel the grass between her toes, and with a small, happy sigh, she looked skyward.

Tilting her head up, she closed her eyes, and spread her arms.

She knew what she looked like at the moment: a ditzy girl who was focused on nature, simply enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin.

Yet, she did not grow up in a crime family for nothing.

Though she seemed outwardly oblivious, she discreetly strained her ears back towards Vegeta, trying to listen in on the conversations.

She had been locked up with nothing to do for far too long, and in that time, she had repeatedly gone over the events of the night of her abduction in her head, replaying the vivid memories of what was an admittedly terrifying night.

If only they had given her a book or a TV, like she had asked, maybe she wouldn’t have had the time to analyze them! She should be thankful that they denied her requests then, because due to their stubbornness, she had all the time in the world to think, and now, she knew those men, and had an idea as to what their functions were in the team.

Vegeta was the clear leader.

Goku, his brother, was their gopher.

The dark-haired man, whom she could recall as having been called Lapiz, was their tech and weapons expert.

The tall man with the white turban was Piccolo, their executioner.

Only the other bald man, with a strange X-mark on his forehead, was unknown to her.

Breathing softly, but deeply, Bulma listened.

8-8-8-8-8

“Are you trying to tell me,” Vegeta growled, “that we are now certain that Freiza’s crew is on the move?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Tien responded, the X-shaped scar on his forehead wrinkling as his brows furrowed. He turned towards Vegeta, handing him an A4-sized sheet of paper.

Kakarot moved closer to him, reading the contents of the sheet over his shoulder, and both brothers grew panicked as they read the contents.

It was an email, containing a few, vital words:

The Dark Prince has risen.

They knew that he was back. And that was not good. Not good, at all.

Briefs, the snitch, had apparently gone to the Syndicate with the information, in spite of the clear threat on Bulma’s life.

Vegeta seethed, hands tight on the edges of the paper. It seemed that nothing truly was sacred to Briefs, who would risk his own daughter’s life just to remain in the mob’s graces.

“Don’t look so glum, fellas,” Tien said. “At least the information had not gotten to Frieza, himself, as of yet.”

“I don’t understand why they didn’t tell Frieza. And I can’t believe that Briefs would just tattle,” Kakarot said, eyes wide. “I mean, we have his daughter here!”

“And Briefs clearly does not give a fuck, whatever happens to her,” Vegeta hissed. “What kind of a fucking father is he?”

He turned to Piccolo, whose narrowed eyes were scanning the contents of Lapiz’s laptop, while Lapiz sat before the computer, madly typing onto only the Gods knew what.

“Piccolo, are you done checking out Tao Pai Pai’s lead? Is it any good?” he asked.

Piccolo nodded. “It is a solid lead. But we need to be careful. Frieza’s crew could easily pay off anyone with ties to that building, and as much money as you have, Vegeta, the Syndicate still has deeper pockets.”

Kakarot blanched. “Well, now what? If they know that Vegeta is searching for Raditz, then they would definitely want to get to him first!”

“Perhaps they will try searching for Kakarot first, and this will divert them?” Vegeta said, cringing at the desperation he could hear in his tone. “After all, they do not know that he is back yet, right?”

“Not quite,” Lapiz butt in with a heavy sigh, as he finally stopped assaulting his keyboard. “Come and see this.”

It was another email, a coded one from the looks of it, but Vegeta recognized a few key words that made his blood run cold.

The Bard’s son walks with the Prince.

The Bard.

Bardock.

Kakarot’s birth father.

“Fuck,” he snapped, angrily turning away from the screen to take his head into his hands.

Had it been happening to anyone other than him, he would have laughed at how juvenile the code words were.

Prince?

Bard?

How much more obvious can they get?

Yet, he failed to find amusement in the rampant stupidity, as he was troubled at how quickly the information had spread.

Kakarot’s earlier question was yet another undetermined factor in the whole thing…

Why did no one let Frieza know?

It was as if the entire Syndicate itself was in their own little conspiracy, keeping something as huge as the knowledge of his return a secret from the big boss, himself.

What did it all mean?

“If the whole crew knows by now,” Vegeta said, a hand still anxiously rubbing the center of his forehead as he felt the stirrings of a headache start to come forth. “What do you all suggest we do?”

Lapiz laughed. “Are we being democratic now?”

“Fuck you, Lapiz,” He spat. “Anyone with any ideas?”

Piccolo straightened. “We need to create a diversion, but it needs to be one that will serve more of a purpose than simple bait.”

“I think,” Kakarot said, “That we need to find a way to prevent them from knowing more about us.”

“Should we try to confuse them? Leave a false trail?” Lapiz asked.

“No,” Vegeta answered. “We cannot run the risk of getting in contact with anyone, because we do not know exactly who is in league with the Syndicate. We need to ensure that we do not mistakenly run into someone who is loyal to Frieza.”

“That we do,” Tien said. “But how do we do that when the entire criminal underground is on Frieza’s payroll?”

Vegeta’s brows shot further down. “Men, we need to expedite our Plan C.”

A grin spread across Piccolo’s face. “Now, we’re talking.”

Vegeta nodded. “It’s time to disable them. If we get rid of his main source of income, the cash stops-”

“And the proverbial shit will hit the fan,” Tien nodded sagely.

“But are we ready?” Kakarot asked. “Wasn’t Lazuli still trying to get more intel?”

“I may already have enough to go by,” the said dark-haired man answered. “We know that the Casino is the Syndicate’s front for their high-end prostitution ring. But we still have yet to figure out how to make this explode so that the authorities can get enough evidence in their hands to prosecute.”

“The Oasis.”

Vegeta stiffened as a loud, but profoundly feminine voice suddenly entered their conversation.

He rapidly spun around, and found none other than Bulma, standing several meters away from them, hands on her hips, while she kept her face up to the sky.

His furious eyes quickly turned to Chaotzu, who had paled considerably, before they shot back to the woman one again.

“What,” Vegeta hissed, “Did you say?”

He watched as she shook her head, before she turned around, infuriatingly slowly, to face them all.

She lifted an eyebrow as she faced them, a smug expression on her face as she looked pointedly at each of them in turn.

“Do you guys have any idea how loud you were being?” she asked. “You were ruining my sunning time!”

He grit his teeth in rage. “Bullshit. You were actively listening in!”

“And you should be glad I was!” Bulma answered, leaning her weight onto one leg as she glared at him. “Because I know exactly how to screw with the Casino.”

Vegeta sputtered. “You crazy woman! You think we need your help-”

“You have to destroy the Oasis,” she insisted, walking closer to them as she spoke. “The Oasis is the mainframe that holds all of the Syndicate’s confidential information, and it has the list of all the businesses involved in their protection rackets. It also has a complete list of all the people that benefit from the Syndicate.”

Vegeta was about to protest, when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.

He turned to see Lapiz, whose cold blue eyes had grown wide as he stared intently at Bulma.

“The Oasis is the database that I have been trying to access,” Lapiz said. “It is an impenetrable system. I can barely bypass two firewalls.”

Bulma beamed. “I can help you with that.”

“Woman!” Vegeta yelled. “You think we will trust you with such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I have nothing to gain other than my freedom.”

“You-”

“I will help you find Raditz,” she said, shooting Vegeta a determined glare.

Vegeta crossed his arms before his chest. He was rather dumbfounded at how she could still manage to speak so dominantly in spite of being a hostage, but he supposed, this was Bulma. It was to be expected.

“You could just as easily send a signal to them regarding our whereabouts,” he said. “Double-cross us all… your family certainly has the history.”

She stomped her foot, arms in tiny fists at her sides. “We did not double-cross you! Vegeta, I will do everything I need to do to prove to you that my family and I had nothing to do with neither your parents’ deaths, nor with the abduction of Raditz and Kakarot.”

“We could certainly use her mind, Vegeta,” Lapiz interjected. “If what we know of her is correct, then she may very well be what we need.”

“Ridiculous,” Vegeta hissed, “You know what she did.”

Lapiz shook his head. “What Nappa said… you never did manage to verify the information, did you?”

“No, but-”

“Can I… say something?”

Vegeta turned around to see Kakarot, and he raised a brow at the unreadable look in his brother’s eyes.

“What is it, Kakarot?”

“I think… I think we should give it a shot,” he said, swiping his unruly bangs from his face. “She’s right, she has nothing to lose. Besides, Lapiz will be right with her.”

“Also,” Piccolo chimed in, “If she tries anything funny, now that we know that her father would rather have her die than give us the information, we could always just kill her.”

“Umm, you know what, you don’t need to plan my death, really,” Bulma said, waving a hand above her head. “I won’t sell you out, I swear.”

“I don’t like this,” Tien said. “She’s the enemy, isn’t she, Vegeta?”

Vegeta looked askance at Tien then, and considered.

She was…

Wasn’t she?

“Listen,” Bulma tried again, taking a few steps closer to them with her hands held out placatingly before her. “I seriously just want this all to end. I want my freedom, not just from you, but from the entire Syndicate. Believe me, helping you take down the Syndicate is in my best interests too.”

Vegeta scoffed. “You were raised as the spoiled rich daughter of a politician. Why would you want to take down the people who had given you everything you could ever wish for?”

They were all taken aback when Bulma began to laugh.

“You think I liked it?” she said, shaking her head as she almost cackled with ironic glee. “Vegeta, you and I… we had known that we were surrounded by criminals since we were in first grade. I had to live with the knowledge that everybody knew what kind of family I came from, but were too afraid to say anything.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her, and he was about to just order someone to drag her back into her room when she hurriedly resumed speaking.

“I may not have gone through what all of you here,” she gestured at all of them, “had endured, but I promise you that my life has been nothing but a good one. I just…”

She sighed. “I just want out. I want a normal life. Where I work to pay my bills, and I don’t have to be flanked by men whose idea of a friendly competition is outnumbering each others’ body counts.”

Vegeta glared at her, trying to see if his lifetime dealing with questionable people could detect even a tiny sliver of deceit in her.

However, all he could see in Bulma was determination, and against his better judgment, he found himself nodding.

He saw her eyes widen in elation, lips stretching into a blinding smile.

Vegeta turned away from her to address Lapiz. “You can keep an eye on her?”

Lapiz nodded. “I will be looking over her shoulder the entire time.”

“Good,” he said. Then, without turning to look at her again, he asked, “Woman, what do you suggest?”

“I am an excellent hacker,” she bragged. “Plus, I have accessed the Oasis before. I am sure that I can find you a vulnerability to exploit, so we can use an implant to duplicate and then clear out the entire system.”

“How did you ever manage to peer into the Oasis?” Lapiz asked.

“I am the daughter of one of the Syndicate’s top men,” she spat, and he could practically smell the distaste in her tone. “It may not be obvious, but I observe and know a lot of things about Frieza.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you even consider the possibility of selling my men out-”

“I will not,” she cut him off. “I swear to you, Vegeta. I swear upon the grave of my mother… I will not sell you out.”

8-8-8-8-8

Lapiz led Bulma into one of the rooms, and she felt a brow rise as she looked appraisingly at the equipment.

“Impressive,” she commented, as she approached a particularly expensive-looking terminal. “You have quite a bit of tech here.”

He smirked. “My father was a scientist, as yours is. However, he declined to join the Syndicate’s plans, and he was summarily executed for it. I have been using my inheritance to finance my toys.”

Bulma blanched, even while his face remained calm and cool in the face of such a revelation.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I had no idea.”

He simply shrugged. “It is the way of things. I have accepted my father’s death. But it does not mean that I have no plans to avenge him. This is the reason why I am here.”

She gulped as she looked down at her hands, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Do… do all of you here have… similar circumstances?”

She felt him move around to stand behind one of the larger monitors.

Lapiz sighed loudly. “Yes. We are all victims of the Syndicate. I and my sister have lost our father. Piccolo had his parents taken away, never to be found again. Tien was tortured, his wife abducted and murdered. And you know of what happened to the Saiyans.”

Bulma gulped, feeling tears rim her eyes as she thought of how all these men, and many, many others, had been wronged by the Syndicate as it reached for power, grasped wealth while leaving all who oppose it to either suffer or die helplessly.

It was madness.

They had to be stopped.

“I will help you destroy the Syndicate. I swear to all of you. You,” she paused. “And to a certain extent, I, will have justice.”

He smirked at her again, and she grinned slowly as she found a strangely teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well then, we had best get to work,” he said, pointing her to a chair in front of the main computer. “Let me see what you’ve really got in that brain of yours, Princess.”

“Can people please stop calling me that?” she growled, rolling her eyes. “I hate it. I have always hated it.”

He laughed. “Then I shall see to it that I use it at every possible turn.”

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta looked worriedly at Piccolo, watching as the stern man shifted his eyes towards Lapiz’s computer room for the hundredth time in the past three hours.

“What?” he finally snapped, pulling the tall man out of his musings.

Piccolo clucked his tongue, his small eyes finding Vegeta’s. “I am uncomfortable with our little Mafia Princess being in there with Lapiz.”

Kakarot looks up, confused. “Why? She looks like she really wants to help.”

Piccolo scoffed. “She is still a Briefs. Have you both forgotten her part in your parents’ death?”

“That,” Vegeta growled low, “remains unproven.”

“You had been swearing your absolute loathing of her since we met,” Piccolo countered. “What changed? Why are you suddenly so eager to trust her? I think you’re letting your past friendship cloud your decisions.”

Vegeta refused to let go of his glare, but Piccolo’s question gave him pause.

Indeed… why was he acting so… lenient?

Bulma had been part of the mess, she was the one who had given the signal, whether or not there had been malice intended.

Was it her?

Was it her mere presence, the disarming look in her wide blue eyes, that had him acting like a fool?

Was he endangering his men because of his stupid recollections of their happy past, risking their entire mission all because the touch of her skin sent tendrils of pleasant shock to run up and down his spine?

Did he dare admit…

That he could feel an unmistakable pull of attraction…

That in spite of his suspicions, in spite of how his logical mind insisted that he should in truth hate her, his insane heart had never let go of his affection towards her, even after all those years?

It was not the time to contemplate on such meaningless things.

“I am not,” he finally responded. “But we do need her inside information. And whether we like it or not, she is a brilliant woman. We need all the help we can get, now that the Syndicate knows that we are on the move.”

“You are absolutely right,” a smooth, feminine voice suddenly cut in, and all turned to see a gorgeous, statuesque blond woman with very familiar icy blue eyes approaching from the garden.

“Lazuli,” Kakarot greeted. “I thought you would be with Krillin today.”

She shrugged. “My boyfriend is off training for an upcoming police drill, so I snuck out.

“We haven’t seen you since you drove Vegeta’s getaway vehicle at the condominium,” Piccolo said. “Did you need to see Lapiz?”

“No. I just spoke to that brat of a brother of mine earlier,” she answered, flipping her hair back as she sat beside Vegeta at the table. “But I dropped by because I needed to tell you all something.”

“What is wrong, Lazuli?” Vegeta asked.

She frowned deeply. “Well… I am pregnant.”

“What?!” Kakarot shrilled, and Vegeta watched as he jumped up from his seat in his excitement. “Wow, congratulations! Why didn’t Krillin tell me?”

“Because he doesn’t know yet,” she hissed. “But I needed to tell you because unfortunately, I can no longer join you in your heists. I am really sorry to bail out on you like this, but I need to… I need to take care of my child, and Krillin. I will still keep an eye out, still try to find more information when you need it, but I can no longer commit to this, not anymore. ”

“That’s right,” Vegeta nodded thougtfully. “Krillin does not know of your little adventures with us.”

“No, he does not,” Lazuli answered. “I don’t want to compromise him and his job at the force. Krillin… he is a genuinely good man.”

“Yeah, he is,” Kakarot responded. “I’ve known him for over a decade. It would be unfair to rope him into this.”

“He is the best thing that ever happened to me, since I met you all,” she smirked.

“Are you sure about this?” Piccolo asked. “We’re not done yet, you still have yet to avenge your father. Also, you have been a huge asset to this operation, and it would be difficult to have you leave the team now.”

“No, she is right. Her family needs to be her priority. All of us here know what it is like to have no family. We cannot deprive Lazuli of a chance to build hers,” Vegeta said. He knotted his brows as he considered Lazuli, their femme fatale, who had helped them with their underground operations with the use of her impressive looks. “You had best go on then. Stay as far away from the operations as possible. We have almost made it, and we owe much of that to you.”

“Well, I had wanted to do one last thing before I disappear,” she said. “Lapiz called me about possibly retrieving something from the Princess’ apartment. I think he needs it for a program he is working on with Bulma Briefs. Did I understand him correctly? He is working with Briefs on a code?”

Vegeta nodded, along with Piccolo and Kakarot, and Lazuli simply shrugged.

“What did he ask you to retrieve? And why did he not run it through me, first?” Vegeta asked.

“He wanted to, but he said he could not leave the girl alone in his computer room,” she responded. “He asked me to see if I can retrieve Briefs’ keys.”

Vegeta stiffened.

His hand snuck slowly into his pocket, where he still had the said keys, hung with the small spaceship toy and a mini flash drive.

The small, round toy felt strangely comforting in his palm, and he clenched his fist around it, his chest lurching at the thought of letting it go once again.

“Why does he need the keys?” Kakarot asked.

“The woman apparently told him that the keychain holds a flash drive that has some codes she can use to access Oasis,” Lazuli answered.

Vegeta straightened at that. “No need, Lazuli. I can provide them with this flash drive.”

Piccolo looked surprised. “You wanna go out to the condo now? We leave for the warehouse in a few hours.”

“Just leave it to me,” Vegeta answered, getting up to move towards the computer room. “Keep on working on the plan. I will not be gone for long.”

He turned to Lazuli, giving her a small salute. “Thank you for your assistance. Now, go. Your growing family must be your utmost priority.”

As he approached the door that held Bulma and Lapiz, he took a deep breath, hoping that the woman does not ask too many questions, as he was not sure how he could possibly answer.

He did not know himself, why he had kept the keys, after all.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was growing anxious.

It had been several hours since Vegeta had dropped by to see her and Lapiz, stiffly handing her keys to her.

She had been shocked, and she had stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking, as she wondered aloud at how he had gotten her keys so fast.

He had turned away, leaving without a word, and it was as she watched his reddened cheeks disappear behind the hastily slammed door that she realized…

He had taken her keys.

He had taken it, kept it, after they had abducted her.

Her heart leapt with joy as she grinned widely, looking down at the spherical trinket that she had treasured for years, incredulous understanding washing over her.

He had recognized the toy. He remembered.

Surely he remembered how he had marked it with his initials using one of their kitchen knives, and she had chastised him about how using a knife in such a way was dangerous.

How he had carried it around all the time, even when they were at school.

How he had accidentally left it behind in her bedroom as they played a video game, and she had kept it on her desk so she could hand it back to him the next time he visited.

How she had never had the chance to return it, because on the following evening, she had been on the edge of a gunfight, the gunfight that they later told her had claimed the life of her dear friend.

That toy had helped her pull herself together, as she had clutched it reverently in her palms every night for months after Vegeta’s supposed death, crying her eyes out at the painful knowledge that she would never see him again.

Shifting her focus back to the present, she stared blankly at the screen, distracted.

It had been too long, with no message from any one, and she knew that Lapiz, beside her, was also concerned.

“Where, exactly, did you say they went, again?” she asked him, trying to see if conversation can put her at ease.

“They went to the edges of the city to scope out an abandoned building that had once been used by the Syndicate for their trafficking operations,” he said. “Tien said that they may have some files there that could contain information on Raditz’s whereabouts.”

This did not assuage her worry at all, as she felt the beating of her heart refuse to slow.

She had gotten a sudden jolt about an hour ago, an inexplicable shot of adrenaline that came from out of nowhere.

She was… worried.

She had a sinking feeling that the mission was about to go terribly wrong.

That is, if it hadn’t, yet.

“And they haven’t called you yet?” she asked.

He shook his head, his face a placid mask.

Bulma had spent enough of her life with hardened criminals, and was easily able to tell when a person was feigning nonchalance.

He was worried, too, and this set Bulma on edge.

She was about to speak again, when a sudden commotion coming from downstairs had them both shooting to their feet, and she saw a look of worry flit through Lapiz’s face before he quickly covered it up with a frown.

She turned her attention to the door, and the panicked voice of Goku yelling something made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Lapiz,” she turned back to him, feeling her blood drain from her face.

He nodded, before he hastily grabbed her by the arm, pulling her along with him to the entryway downstairs.

As they reached the landing, the sight that greeted Bulma nearly made her scream, but she clamped a firm hand over her lips, the other moving to hold her chest, as she felt her heart try to lurch out through her ribs.

It took only a moment for her to assess the sight.

Goku was madly pulling the small cushions off the couch, while Piccolo stumbled in, a bloody, unconscious body slung heavily over his shoulder.

The dark, flame-like hair fanning limply over the slumped head was unmistakable, and Bulma felt her throat catch, unable to keep her hysteria in as her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no,” she whispered, before her voice broke in a horrified scream…

“Vegeta!” she cried, flying down the stairs, tripping over herself in her haste to get to him while Piccolo and Goku laid him down on the couch.

“Vegeta!” she called again as she knelt down beside him, staring in horror at the blood that flowed fluidly down his temples, unaware of anything else as she stared in desperation at his closed eyes. “No! Goku, what happened?!”

She dared not take her eyes off of her injured friend while she listened to Goku.

“The small building… there really were files about Raditz,” he said, “but the place was rigged, and Vegeta got caught in the debris from the explosion while we tried to get away.”

She pressed her hand to a particularly ugly wound on Vegeta’s arm, watching as he stayed still as death upon the couch.

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head in denial.

“No,” she gasped, feeling numb inside as memories of the last time she had believed him to be dead rushed through her mind.

“Please tell me he’ll be alright!” she heard herself begin to lose control as she stared, helpless, while Lapiz ran forward with an assortment of bandages, panic clear in his usually calm blue gaze.

It was too much, and Bulma’s eyes overflowed with tears when Vegeta remained unresponsive.

“I can’t lose Vegeta,” she cried, “Please! Not again!”

Yet, he remained unmoving…

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…

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