I Hate Being Right

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-fiction with completely fictional characters. Akira Toriyama is the original creator of Dragonball Z.

Ch. 13

Yamcha felt his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he slowly pushed open the old door that led to the trapped saiyajin. It was always strange and nerve-wracking to speak with the enraged, arrogant prince, but now that Yamcha knew the creature’s true nature on Earth, he felt even more nervous speaking to him face to face. Vegeta was highly intelligent and manipulative. He made everyone around him feel stupid and insignificant.

But as the hallway light fell on the person on the floor, Yamcha immediately felt a sense of calm determination. His dark eyes landed on the prince and he didn’t really try to hide the small smirk on his face. The murderer obviously had been through a lot and he did not look so terrifying anymore.

Clicking on the light switch in the small bedroom, Yamcha observed the beaten man tied to the tall metal legs of the bed. Skip’s bedroom was cozy, if not a little on the feminine side. It looked as if an old granny had decorated. His bed was very large for someone of his size and the leg posts jutted from the floor toward the ceiling. Vegeta had been tied tightly to the cast-iron frame, his legs splayed out on the floor in front of him and head drooping with exhaustion. His wrists were tied behind his back and around the bed-leg with thin black cords, while numerous straps fastened his upper body to the thick post.

Yamcha couldn’t help but stare silently at the broken creature before him. Vegeta wore a soft black shirt that wrapped around his curved muscles elegantly. But the material was ripped in several places and covered in mud. Under the cuts and tears, Yamcha could see streams of blood covering the pale skin. He wore checkered red and black pants that were obviously too long for his shorter legs. They too were ripped terribly and the human couldn’t help but gaze at the blackened spots of blood that covered almost all of his bent right leg.

With his head facing the floor, Yamcha could only see the mud on his forehead and eyebrows, but noticed the occasional drip of bloody saliva that hung from his mouth. Beads of sweat dripped from his nose, even though the room was quite chilly, and his shoulders jerked with tension. Yamcha thought he heard a small sniffle, but brushed it off as a noise of pain or anger.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Vegeta asked softly, startling the scarred man.

Yamcha took a deep breath and entered the room more, closing the door lightly behind him. He could feel absolutely no ki-energy from the being on the floor and felt braver than he ever had in the alien’s presence. He stood over Vegeta and crossed his arms, but felt disappointment when the spiky-haired prince did not look at him.

“I want to know why you did it.”

The room was silent for a moment before Vegeta’s shoulders shook with humorless laughter. Shaking his head, he continued to stare a hole into the floor. Vegeta’s world twisted and spun and he felt sickness creeping up his throat every second he sat bound to the bed post. The drug made him feel incredibly groggy, as well as almost wasted. His body screamed in agony, but the three needles of poison seemed to dull everything. His empty stomach churned with the acid solution of Skip and Bulma’s creation.

“You are as stupid as any other human,” Vegeta slurred. “Believing what you want to believe so you won’t feel guilty. You know deep down I killed no one on this planet, but you want an excuse to hate me, to feel gratitude when you look at my condition.”

“Didn’t kill anyone?” Yamcha demanded. “You’ve killed many people on this planet! Myself included!”

Vegeta’s head snapped up, his teeth bared like a rabid dog. Suddenly flailing against his bonds, the enraged saiyajin cursed and snarled, his body thrashing against the heavy bed. Screaming in languages Yamcha could not understand, Vegeta let out crazed animalistic noises as his fury ignited within him. The drugs made him lose control and he couldn’t fight the roller-coaster of emotions that swept through him.

“I have not killed a single human EVER!” He snarled. “I did not kill you or your insignificant human friends! But when I get out of here, your planet is history! I’ll kill every one of you filthy pieces of shit! I’ll stand and laugh as human blood rains from the sky!”

And then Vegeta did laugh, a harsh piercing cackle, as he writhed on the floor. He grinned and frothed at the mouth as he imagined murdering the ones who had tortured him, his body jerking in pain as he kicked out and strained against his straps and ropes. Then immediately, he pitched forward and threw up what little he had in his stomach. His voice cried out in disgust as stomach acid burned his throat and nose. His world spun sickeningly and he wanted nothing more than to sleep until things were right again.

Yamcha watched the horrifying display as he backed into the door. He reached for the doorknob, but shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He would not be a coward. Skip told him that the saiyajin was not right in the head. Yamcha had nothing to fear from him.

But the awful sight was still painful to witness. As much as he hated and feared the arrogant fighter normally, seeing him react in such a way unnerved him. He was sick and wounded to the point of being pitied. Almost.

“Why did you kill those people in the village?”

Vegeta’s shoulders trembled before sagging in defeat. His head was bowed so low all Yamcha could see was hair. The usual upsweep of dark brown fur had lost its flame-like appearance and now hung in wild slopes and frazzled chunks. Vegeta’s ragged breath filled the room and he shook his head as if waking from a trance. Peering up at the human slowly, Vegeta’s lifeless eyes stared through Yamcha, the sight of them sending icy chills through the warrior.

“I didn’t kill anyone in any village. Why would you believe such a story? You would have sensed it. The other idiot fighters would have felt it. Kakarot, who is connected to every weak human on this planet, would have known instantly. It would have been all over your news.” He shook his head desperately. “It’s these humans who are the monsters.”

Yamcha could only stare into the defeated gaze, his heart freezing at the emotions in those broken depths. He had never seen such an expression on anyone before, and to view it on such a head-strong and arrogant saiyajin warrior made Yamcha slowly question the situation. He looked into the beaten face, his eyes searching. He saw the blackened bruises around his eyes and cheeks. His neck was blotchy with purple and red splotches and tendrils of dried blood covered all areas of his face. But the thing that caught Yamcha’s attention the most was the darkly traced eyeliner and mascara on the prince’s eyes. His lips even appeared to have been covered in a film of glossy sparkles. He could not understand the reasoning behind such an appearance. He could not imagine the brash saiyajin doing that to himself…yet why would Skip’s friends do such an odd thing?

“They really did a number on you,” Yamcha laughed dryly.

Vegeta continued to stare at the man, his expression never changing and eyes appearing almost blind.

“Yes, laugh now, human. You will not feel so smug when you discover what your precious friends have been doing here.”

Yamcha crossed his arms and forced an expression of indifference on his face. He would not let the clever alien guilt or trick him. And as he stared down at the saiyajin, he felt a growing sense of power. Vegeta was the strongest warrior in the universe next to Goku, and there was an odd feeling of satisfaction as he stood over the defeated and usually annoying, arrogant fighter. Whatever Skip’s friends did to punish him was probably well deserved.

“Come on, you’re a tough guy,” Yamcha teased. “I thought saiyajins loved getting beaten up. Makes them stronger or something.”

Vegeta sat still for a moment longer before his face squeezed in pain, his eyebrows creasing together as he bit his lower lip. His tense shoulders shook before he, once again, began to thrash against his bonds. Crying out with an aching throat, Vegeta slammed his feet against the floor, his voice screaming louder as his right ankle exploded in pain.

“You have to get me out of here,” he hissed. Whipping his head back and forth, Vegeta gasped desperately and stared up at Yamcha, his black eyes glistening. “Get me out of here. Let your Earth buddies punish me. Get Kakarot…but get me out of here! DO IT! I’m completely powerless,” he babbled. “You can even keep me tied up…but take me away from this place. Anything is better…anything is better than…”he trailed off as his throat ached with shameful tears. The drugs were making him completely lose his composure and he felt his soul burn with humiliation.

Yamcha peered at the broken being, his mind racing as he watched the saiyajin fall apart before his very eyes. He had heard about the prince’s death against Frieza. He had seen a little bit of his personality before he was killed by the saibaman on Earth. With the prince living at Capsule Corp., Yamcha understood Vegeta more and more. The fighter was like iron normally, but it seemed that his emotions truly came through when something unbelievably terrible had happened to him. But Yamcha knew Skip well. Surely, he wouldn’t be lying about Vegeta’s murderous actions. But those other humans…?

“If you didn’t destroy that village,” Yamcha began, “then why are you here?”

“Coming out of your denial now?” Vegeta sneered.

“I wouldn’t say that. I know you’re a murdering psycho. But if you say you didn’t do anything, then why are you here? How did Skip and his friends get you and why would they want you?”

“Because they want YOU.”

The finality in Vegeta’s voice silenced Yamcha quickly and they stared at each other once more, their eyes reading the others’ expression. Yamcha’s dark eyebrows lowered and he let out a curious scoff.

“Me? I’m just Skip’s friend. If they wanted me, they—“

“Oh, you’re more than just a friend,” Vegeta murmured with sick amusement. His dark eyes were instantly darker and the smeared make-up around his lids made him look even more wicked. “I know him a lot better than you do. And his close friends are no heroes. I’ve been here since our little argument last night.” Vegeta tilted his head to the side, his pale and dirty face full of doll-like curiosity and voice low. “They caught me in the woods with their tricky tranquilizers. I have been in this hell-hole ever since. Not exactly enough to time blow up a village, now is it?”

Yamcha gave the saiyajin a confused smirk and shook his head. “So they kidnapped you and…what…beat you up?”

Vegeta’s face grew sullen and blank and he looked away. He could not believe the human stood before him and simply laughed at the whole situation. But Vegeta could not allow the man to know what had been done to him. The human was the strongest one here and he needed his help to escape. Vegeta would have to convince him without going into full detail about his tortures.

Another wave of nausea hit and Vegeta moaned. Trying to curl in on himself as his stomach clenched, he hissed in agony as his right leg bent, the bullet hole bleeding out once more. Frustrated and miserable, the saiyajin threw his head against the pole, enjoying the burst of stars that allowed him to forget his pain briefly.

“What happened to your leg?”

Vegeta blinked up at the ceiling, his face completely blank. “I got shot in the thigh and broke my ankle when I was unshackled from a chair.”

Yamcha’s eyebrows lowered at the confession. “What did they shoot you with?”

“Their powerful energy blasts,” Vegeta spat in disgust. “A gun you moron. Hal has it on him now.”

“Hal?”

“Four-eye’s half brother. The tall freak with the colorful hair.”

The thought of Vegeta being abused and controlled with an everyday hand gun was overwhelming to believe. The men outside really knew what they were doing when it came to the saiyajin prince. He must have really been misbehaving if one of Skip’s allies had to shoot him. Yamcha let out an awed laugh and gazed at the door.

“The mighty Prince Vegeta…tamed by humans…”

“Fuck you,” Vegeta whispered in a voice filled with hatred.

Yamcha gazed down at the bound prince and took a step back from the pure, fiery rage on the alien’s face. His nose scrunched and lips twitched like a crazed wolf. Even his hair seemed to flare as blinding fury overtook his mind and body. The bed trembled as Vegeta’s muscles jerked and trembled, but he never took his bloodshot eyes off Yamcha’s face.

Even though he was harmless at the moment, Yamcha gulped in fear and felt himself rooted to the ground where he stood. His words truly affected Vegeta and if the saiyajin had not been drugged, beaten, and bound, Yamcha was positive he would have been just a pile of ashes as soon as he spoke the words. Trying to find his voice, the scarred man swallowed again and spoke through a dry mouth.

“You don’t…like the fact that you were beaten by humans?”

“I WAS NOT BEATEN!!” Vegeta roared, spit flying from his mouth as he pulled against the straps, his wrists instantly covered with streams of blood from the thin cords digging into his already wounded flesh. “You have no idea what they have done to me or why they took me in the first place! And you simply laugh and tease and wish to humiliate me further! You are just as bad as they are! And you dare call the saiyajins monsters,” he growled.

“Then what have they done to you that is so bad? I know you have been through a lot in your life, Vegeta. What did those four humans out there do that was worse than…Frieza or anyone else for that matter?” Yamcha demanded. He truly wanted to know. Vegeta made it seem like there was much more than being beaten and Yamcha really could not believe Skip or his friends would agree to torture.

All the energy seemed to leave the warrior on the ground and he slumped in absolute defeat. He was not going escape. Yamcha was just as stupid and cruel as the others. The room was silent for some time before Vegeta’s curved lips finally spoke.

“Why won’t you just take me to Kakarot or one of your planet’s rulers? You actually think I would make up what I have said…about being shot, beaten, and shackled to a chair? Me?” His dark eyes rose and Yamcha was once again stricken by the dull defeat in his black irises. Vegeta shook his head. “I cannot tell you what happened here, but you are the only one who can…save me.” He whispered the last part and lowered his head again. “Yamcha, please get me out here. Bring me to your other Earth friends…but please…please don’t leave me here.”

Then Vegeta collapsed completely, his face totally hidden by his hair and body motionless. For one chilling second, Yamcha felt the little energy within Vegeta flicker and disappear before settling within his senses again. Leaping forward, the human grabbed the beaten warrior’s shoulders, the shirt on his bloody body damp and cold. Shaking the saiyajin, Yamcha called his name frantically, trying to wake the unconscious prince.

Perhaps he was right. It wasn’t Yamcha’s decision to punish Vegeta and there was obviously something wrong within Skip’s cabin. He had never seen anyone so frightened or desperate before and the Earth fighter knew that Vegeta would never, NEVER ask for help unless he really needed. The fact that the arrogant saiyajin had actually called him by his name was also unnerving. Yamcha didn’t even think Vegeta knew his name.

Slapping the cold cheeks of the prince lightly, Yamcha hissed his name and shook his shoulders again. And then his eyes landed on something he hadn’t noticed standing up. Being so close to his face now, Yamcha could see every bruise, cut, speck of dirt, and streak of blood that marred Vegeta’s usually tan skin. But there was something else on the side of his face, in his hair, and at the corners of his mouth.

“Spider-webs?” Yamcha whispered as he reached a hand toward the still face.

Traces of white streaked Vegeta’s face almost like something had splattered against his skin. Yamcha thought it was saliva, but it was too thick and crusted. Plus, the white that clung to his hair stretched across each spiky stalk like a cob-web, but was flaky when touched. The pattern of the substance was unusual: not running in one direction like a trail of spit nor carefully aimed as if it were an intentional design. And the fact that a lot of it trailed from the corner of Vegeta’s lips was extremely strange.

Yamcha brushed his fingers lightly across the saiyajin’s cheek and let out a surprised shout as Vegeta came to life, his dull eyes wide with panic and voice screaming out. Kicking at Yamcha, the saiyajin appeared not to know where he was or who was near him. Thrashing and crying out hysterically, Vegeta begged and hollered at the person who had come too close to him. He whipped his head back and forth, his addled mind a complete mess, making him think that he was once again being attacked and abused.

Yamcha stood in the corner of the room, his shaking hands to his mouth as he watched the usually calm and intelligent fighter pleading and sobbing for his torture to stop. He screamed “No more! No more!” and babbled incoherently. Tears fell from his seemingly blinded eyes as he threw himself against his bonds, his skin growing paler and wounds opening again.

The door suddenly banged open and four figures stood in the frame. Yamcha could hear some snickers of amusement before Skip shushed them all. Stepping into the room cautiously, glowing eyes peered around before landing on Yamcha in the corner. Pushing his reflecting glasses up his nose, the small man forced a calm smile and then looked down at the hysterical being on the ground.

“It’s just the drugs in his system, Yamcha,” Skip explained simply. “It’s a powerful sedative, but it will keep us all safe.”

“And here I was thinking he was having some fun with him,” Hal mused.

“Shut it.”

Hal’s blue eyes met his half-brother and he scowled at the demand but said nothing more. The room began to quiet down as Vegeta’s energy completely drained out of him again and he stared at the ground, his eyes opening and closing slowly. Shaking his head slightly, Vegeta raised his eyes and squinted as if waking from a bad dream. Gasping in shock, he kicked at the ground before him, trying to scoot away from the ones who had just appeared before him. Whimpering childishly, he pulled at the black straps tied around his body and moaned.

“Yamcha, get me out of here,” he choked through clenched teeth.

“Now why would he do that?” Skip asked, his eyes peering down at the alien. “You’ve been a naughty boy and need to be punished.”

Anger burned within the beaten warrior and he glared at the smirking man, his jaw clenched painfully as the other three humans chuckled. Dark eyes slid to Yamcha and the scarred-faced man appeared torn. Vegeta’s eyes widened in terror as he saw the indecision on the Earth fighter’s face, but Yamcha gazed at him, a look of pity and pale-fear on his features.

“Skip…I think we oughta let Goku and my other friends handle this. I mean, what else can we do? I think you guys have…handled it enough. I’ll just take him to Goku and we’ll see what to do from there.”

Yamcha slowly made his way toward the bound saiyajin, his hands shaking nervously even though he knew Skip and others could not hurt him.

“Hold up, Yamcha,” the shorter man said calmly. “I know you don’t want to pass up this opportunity. This is your one chance to finally get revenge. You were killed, Yamcha. Killed! And this is finally your time to rectify it, to set things right!”

The warrior shook his head and knelt next to the saiyajin prince, his thick fingers ripping at the tight black straps that imprisoned the wounded being. He felt his heart pounding at being so close to the alien warrior, but he had a deeper feeling of fear he could not explain.

“Whatever he did, he’ll get his punishment. I’ll bring him to Goku or Kami and then we’ll be able to see how evil he is. They can look into people’s minds and souls.”

Ripping the last strap from Vegeta’s upper body, he gripped the saiyajin’s wrists and cringed as the wounded man hissed in pain. Uttering his apologies, Yamcha took care as he pulled the thin cords out of Vegeta’s blistered and bleeding flesh. The black ropes fell to the carpeted floor with a wet slap and Yamcha put his hands against the saiyajin’s shivering torso, a feeling of protection overcoming him as he helped the weakened creature to his feet. Vegeta appeared even smaller now as he stood shakily on one good leg, his muscles covered in dark clothes that hid his usual beaming strength. He looked childish and scared as his dark hair stood scattered and messy over his face and in the air, as if he had just woken from a nap. His face remained lowered, as he just couldn’t bring himself to look at the other humans in the room. His body language showed no signs of hope and Yamcha wondered why he didn’t look happier about leaving.

Skip crossed his arms and glared into Yamcha’s eyes with surprising darkness. The scarred man instinctively wrapped an arm around Vegeta’s shoulders and eyed the door. Hal, Hikaru, and Rich stood directly in their way.

“He is staying here, Yamcha,” Skip spoke very slowly. “He is staying here and you will do what needs to be done.”

Shaking his head, a feeling of disgust and outright anger burst from Yamcha. “And what needs to be done, Skip? What have you all been doing to him? I’ve never seen a person in this condition, and would never, in a million years, have believed Vegeta to be this…scared or hurt.”

“This is nothing,” Skip said, his voice growing darker and colder every time he spoke. “He has not felt true torture yet. Only you can carry out his punishment, Yamcha. Deep within you, you want him to hurt and bleed…and you want to be the one who does it.”

“NO!” Yamcha cried, his hand tightening around Vegeta’s trembling shoulder. “I am an Earth Warrior, Skip! And you should not think that way either!” He closed his eyes and thought of Goku, channeling the amazing fighter’s strength and kindness. “It’s like Krillin said, Vegeta received his punishment from Frieza on Namek. Everyone is allowed a second chance. I think you guys did enough. Now, please, move away from the door.”

“We didn’t do nearly enough,” Hikaru chuckled.

“I think I could go for some more…punishment,” Hal giggled sickeningly.

Yamcha’s eyes snapped open and he stared in shock at the three men before him. They leered at the small saiyajin in his arms with a disgusting and terrifying lust, their eyes heavy-lidded and cold. Panic and revulsion struck Yamcha like a kick to the stomach and he had to swallow down sudden sickness as the truth hit him. Shaking his head and grimacing, Yamcha took a step forward and wrapped his other arm around Vegeta, holding him close to his side.

“You sick bastards. I know what you’ve been doing. Those stains on his face…the bruises all over his body and the make-up on his eyes.” Yamcha felt his world crashing around him. A burst of sickened fury erupted inside of him and he found himself growling at all the other humans in the room. “GET OUT OF MY WAY!”

His energy lit around him and Yamcha stormed directly toward the people blocking his path. He felt the need to power-up to his max and burn the monsters down their bones. But the sounds of Skip’s soft “tut, tut” caused him to halt. Looking over his shoulder slowly, Yamcha’s fiery eyes landed on a small device in the scientist’s hand, the man’s eyes wide with amusement behind his glasses. Resembling a small joystick, the gray contraption fit within Skip’s palm easily, a large red button on top and a small black dial along the edge.

“I would not take one step further,” Skip warned.

Yamcha eyed the thing, but it looked like a cheap plastic toy. Calling the bluff, the Earth warrior sniffed arrogantly and moved forward, the silent saiyajin stumbling alongside.

“Or what?”

There was a small click and the room was instantly filled with violent screams. Yamcha jerked in shocked as Vegeta ripped himself from his grasp, his eyes completely white as he slammed into the floor and convulsed, his body jerking so violently the carpeted ground shook with each thud. The screams were horrifying and Yamcha backed up as he watched the saiyajin prince foam at the mouth and gasp for air as he shrieked and writhed. Instantly Skip removed his thumb from the red button on the joy-stick and Vegeta let out a few more high-pitched screams of agony, his body lying twitching and jerking on the ground.

Yamcha rounded on his supposed friend and marched forward angrily. There was movement behind him and immediately Hal held the dazed, gasping prince in one arm as his free hand pressed a large silver gun against Vegeta’s temple.

“How fast are you, Mr. Earth’s Special Fighter?”

Yamcha growled and looked at the neon-haired man and then to his half-brother. Skip’s thumb was poised directly over the joystick and Hal anxiously twisted the barrel of the gun harshly against Vegeta’s skull. He was fast, especially after King Kai’s training, but there was absolutely no way he could stop a bullet from entering Vegeta’s brain with the gun pressed directly to his head. And from the sight of things, the contraption that had just electrocuted the saiyajin appeared strong enough to kill him. Either way, he would have to play along until he caught them off guard and stole either the gun or Skip’s toy. Sighing, Yamcha’s shoulders lowered and he stood up straight. Looking at his feet, he found he could not turn toward Vegeta, the alien he had wanted to save.

“What do you want me to do?”

With his eyes lowered to the ground, Yamcha did not see the devilish grin appear on Skip’s face.