I Hate Being Right

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fanfiction written for pure, sick angst. Absolutely none of these characters truly exist and no parts of this story are based on true events. Akira Toriyama is the original creator of Dragonball Z and Vegeta, Yamcha, and the DBZ universe belong to him.

Warnings: Blood and Death

Ch. 17

Yamcha tilted his head upward, his eyes focusing on the hanging beams and chunks of plaster and concrete that pressed against his fiery shield. Vegeta was completely silent, his head bowed as he shivered against Yamcha’s heated form. It was strange. The saiyajin was obviously repulsed and sickened to be anywhere near the man that had almost fucked him to death, but it appeared he did not want to move away from the warmth Yamcha radiated. The hug earlier had lasted for several minutes before Vegeta immediately pushed away from the strong arms enfolding him, his eyes wide as his mind finally went to work and realized the situation.

Yamcha loosened his hold and allowed the exhausted and bloodied saiyajin to use him as a back rest as he tried to fight off the numbness of his drug-addled brain. The pills were still strongly affecting him, making his eyelids heavy and thoughts wander aimlessly, but Yamcha knew that they had to leave the dilapidated cabin immediately.

Wrapping one arm around Vegeta’s trembling shoulders, Yamcha lifted his other hand and let his energy collect in his sweaty palm. Letting out a blast of power, the human grunted as a ball of red energy collided with the debris surrounding them, the chunks of wood and concrete sailing upward in a rainstorm of trash and destruction. Leaping from the bed, Yamcha used his power to force away the falling pieces of cabin as he and Vegeta blasted into the air, their eyes landing on the real outside world once again.

Dropping down to the ground, Yamcha hustled to a nearby tree and laid the drowsy prince against the cold trunk. Looking over his shoulder, the shaking human watched as the tall cabin-house collapsed lower with a sickening groan. The ground trembled as large slabs of wood crashed into the dirt and boulders of concrete rolled from the pile that was once a home. Two of the walls remained standing, the roof hanging over the logs of the cabin-house, while the back part had fallen downward from Yamcha’s explosion of energy. Hanging out from under the mess, Yamcha eyed the cellar door that still remained fully intact on the ground except for a single hole in one of its doors.

Turning back to Vegeta, Yamcha’s breath deepened as he took in the wounds, clearly visible in the bright sunlight. Through the haze of the pills, Yamcha felt a deep stab of guilt and panic as he saw the dark burns and serious gashes that marred the saiyajin’s bare chest and stomach. He could only imagine what the prince’s backside must have looked like after his brutal assault.

Wrapping his arms around the shivering saiyajin, Yamcha slowly stood, his eyes squinting as Vegeta let out a harsh gasp of pain. The wounded fighter’s legs gave out and Yamcha had to fully hold him on his feet. Trying to push back his groans of agony, Vegeta turned his head away from the taller man aiding him, his watering eyes landing on the house and then on the basement doors he has escaped from earlier. Struggling suddenly, Vegeta tried to pull away from the man holding him, his weak fingers digging into Yamcha’s forearms.

“You need a senzu badly,” the scarred man explained desperately.

Gathering his energy around him, Yamcha prepared to lift off into the sky, his senses turning toward Korin’s tower. Vegeta let out a harsh cough and thrashed in Yamcha’s arms angrily.

“No!” He growled. “You need to get that controller!”

Vegeta felt the man stiffen and his black eyes glared up at Yamcha’s surprised face.

“Skip was unconscious.”

“But when he wakes up, the first thing he’ll do is use that damn remote of his! He can’t risk letting me live. Even when I get that foul senzu bean in my system, the microchip inside will still work. My body might heal, but my energy won’t. Those beans probably won’t fight the poison depleting my energy, and even if they did, I would still be helpless to fight off that blasted microchip within my own body.”

Yamcha listened to the saiyajin, knowing full well that what he said was true. He turned and gazed at the chilling structure that lay in pieces in the middle of the woods. Yamcha didn’t know if he could go back into that terrible place.

“What do you want me to do?”

Vegeta growled and rolled his eyes at the man’s stupidity. “I already told you. Go get that fucking remote! Destroy it!”

“And Skip?”

Vegeta remained silent, his black eyes brooding and icy as he peered at the dilapidated cabin with an expression of cold hatred. “Keep him alive. I will deal with all those freaks soon enough.”

Yamcha sighed and lowered the saiyajin to the ground, helping him prop his back against the rough of bark of the tree once more. “Just wait here. Yell if you see anyone.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes again, but couldn’t help but smirk sadly as he eyed Yamcha’s pants. The human followed his gaze and blushed deeply as he noted the bulging tent in his black slacks.

“Th-the drug. The pills are still…”

“Just get going idiot!” Vegeta barked, his face suddenly red with anger and humiliation.

Turning immediately, Yamcha was glad to leave the saiyajin. It was humiliating and shameful that he had willingly taken the pills that led to the erection clearly visible in his pants, but it was even worse that Vegeta had been the one to notice. Yamcha was sure the last thing Vegeta needed was a clear reminder as to what had just happened to him.

Leaping into the air, Yamcha landed on the pile of fallen and debris and glanced at Vegeta one more time before plowing his way into the hidden dungeons of the home. The human felt greatly anxious as darkness engulfed him again, but knew that he needed to get that controller and stop Vegeta’s suffering once and for all.

The saiyajin prince watched as the clumsy man disappeared from view, his long-sleeved white shirt and black pants fading as he dug his way into the remains of the horrible home. Staring forward, Vegeta tried to focus on anything other than the pain that invariably throbbed throughout his entire body. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids and he felt his head fall back against the tree. Once he saw Yamcha with the gray remote, he knew that he would finally be able to relax after this whole terrible ordeal.

Trying to fight off the heavy sleepiness that enveloped his body and mind, Vegeta wished so desperately that he could sense energy. If he could actually feel where the humans were (or if they were even alive) he would let sleep overcome him entirely. But there was still a huge sense of anxiety nestled deep within his psyche. Skip was unconscious. He wondered if the others were in the same state.

Vegeta realized that his eyes had drifted closed, but he didn’t even have the strength to open them. Feeling his head roll forward, Vegeta remained completely still as sleep invaded all of his senses, his breath coming in deeper and body already twitching with uneasy visions. Everything suddenly felt so quiet, even the birds and wild-life in the trees above him. The chilly fall breeze didn’t even seem to bother him.

And yet, the silence of the woods put him on edge. There was a foreboding dread that seemed to carry throughout the nature; even the animals sensed it and were stricken noiseless. Prying his darkened eyelids open, Vegeta’s breath caught in his chest, and his world shifted around him sickeningly as he could only stare ahead with wide, panicked eyes.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t heard it. The cellar door on the ground was heavy and old; the wood should have made a sound! But as Vegeta gawked forward, he could not deny what he was seeing. Bruce and Hal slowly crawled out of the broken doorway, their bodies clumsy and movements disoriented as they tried to gather their bearings. It seemed that the destruction of the house had quite the affect on them. Vegeta could see the blood smeared across their faces and torn skin, their clothing completely ripped and scorched from Yamcha’s energy. But they could stand. And they could move. And Hal could still hold his gun tightly in his right hand.

Vegeta tried to take in a breath, but could only manage a miniscule whimper. He was directly facing them as he sat on the cold dirt, but they had somehow not noticed him. Vegeta prayed that they had perhaps injured their brains in the explosion, or lost their vision and were blinded from the world. But they turned to each other and sauntered away the cellar door, as if afraid to be heard or noticed.

That was when Vegeta realized they were hiding, as well. The two fools must have seen Yamcha searching within the wreckage and escaped as fast as they could. But if that was the case, then Yamcha must not have sensed them. He was still within the broken home. This also meant that…

“I am on my own,” Vegeta whispered.

Twisting his head around the tree he sat against, Vegeta took in the surrounding area, trying to see where Bruce and Hal had scurried off to. Even after the collapsing of the giant cabin-house and experiencing Yamcha’s crushing energy, the two had managed to survive…and run rather quickly away from the wreckage. They were in a much better condition than Vegeta.

The two were nowhere in sight and the helpless prince wondered what his next move should be. Gazing up at the trees, he tried to gauge how much strength he had. Only minutes ago he felt as if his body was slowly dying. The damage created by Yamcha’s power on the outside and inside of his body had been devastating, but it seemed that even with the poison within his blood, his saiyajin immune system was trying its hardest to heal the injuries; or make them more tolerable.

Lifting his arms and pressing his elbows against the thick tree trunk, Vegeta hissed and twisted in pain as he lifted himself to his feet. Feeling a wave of dizziness assault him, Vegeta tried to block out the darkness that surrounded the edges of his vision. His right leg was screaming in pure agony from the sudden action and his body jerked and trembled as it begged not to move. But the strong prince bit his lower lip and tried to suck in much needed oxygen before he passed out.

Letting out a light groan, Vegeta slowly peered to the left and right of the tree, his weakened body trying so hard to sense the two humans that stood somewhere behind him. But the actions only caused his stomach to clench with nauseated pain as the solution within him clamped down on his constant calls for power. Swallowing down the rising bile, Vegeta closed his eyes and tried desperately to think.

If he stayed where he was, there was a good chance Yamcha could come out in time with the remote and fly him away from this horrid place. But he had no idea where Bruce and Hal were. They could have been spying on him right at that moment, just waiting for him to make his move. If Vegeta decided to travel into the woods, away from the home, he would be further from Yamcha, and as much as it disgusted him, the thought of being away from the powerful human made Vegeta feel very vulnerable…and frightened. Still, Vegeta knew what direction he needed to travel. He knew that humanity was less than a mile away. Of course, if he ran into Bruce and Hal…there was no way he could escape in his condition.

He remembered what Yamcha had said before he went into the house, “Yell if you see anyone.” Vegeta knew that if he even dared raise his voice, the two crazies would be on him in a flash. A vision of Hal’s gun aiming at his head sent a shrill of fear throughout Vegeta’s already trembling body and he growled angrily at what he had been reduced to. There was no way he was going to scream for help from a man who had raped him. In fact, there was no way he was going to receive any help from a human who fucked him and smiled lustfully in his face as he did so.

“I can get out of here on my own,” Vegeta whispered into the eerily quiet air. “And when I’m healed again….” He let the words hang, his curved eyes glaring blindly at the dilapidated house. The wind swirled around him, twisting his gnarled hair and sending fall leaves spiraling around his body. It was as if, for that one moment, Vegeta had regained a bit of his energy again. Yamcha would get the remote and destroy it, if the fallen cabin didn’t already do the job for them, and then Vegeta would keep his word…and kill everyone on the planet.

Letting a cold, cruel grin appear on his face, Vegeta slowly backed away from the haunting sight, his eyes tearing away from the horrible home. Stumbling forward, the saiyajin turned his back on the dilapidated prison and trudged his way through the woods, his heart racing as he kept an alert ear and eye on his surroundings. It was going to be a long, exhausting journey, but he knew he would make it out of the terrible forest this time.


He had been searching for far too long. Yamcha felt his face pouring with sweat as he shifted through the heavy carnage of Skip’s horror house, panic rising and blinding him as he could not find the remote. It was dark and suffocating in the dungeon basement and Yamcha felt ill just standing in the nightmarish area. So much had happened here, so many terrible things. His fingers were shaking as he searched and searched, his anxiety growing the longer he strayed away from Vegeta. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was making his panic grow, but he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He could still sense Vegeta outside, even though he was hard to track because of his low life-energy. There was something wrong within the cabin. Something was missing.

There was only one place the remote could be. Skip had it in his hand as the world crashed down on them. It had to be near him. And the last time he saw Skip was unconscious by the bed.

Kicking the debris around him, Yamcha made an uneasy trek back to the bloodied and stained mattress, his stomach clenching as he tried to avoid looking at the horrible bed. Gulping nervously, the scarred man looked under the bed and around the clear, circular area where his energy had pushed everything away from them. The controller was just not there. Groaning with impatience and frustration, Yamcha wiped the back of hand across his forehead and let his feet fall out from under him. His eyes swept the floor and he slowly realized what was missing. He could only stare blindly into the red-tinted darkness as a wall of panic hit him.

Skip was gone.


Vegeta leaned against a scraggly little tree as he tried to breathe in. But his lungs and chest ached and he felt his eyes roll into his head as a wave of blinding dizziness assailed him. Pressing a hand against his mouth, Vegeta fell to his knees as a stream of hot blood sprayed between his fingers. Coughing and hacking, the agonized prince let out a high-pitched cry as the dark maroon liquid burned his throat and nose. Trembling and swallowing painfully, Vegeta tried to calm himself, but could only shiver and twitch as he felt his body weakening more and more.

Spitting more blood from his mouth, the feeble prince clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed that the mere motion of walking through the woods was far too much for his body to handle. Maybe he truly was dying. Bowing his head Vegeta lifted his left leg and grabbed the child-tree’s white trunk, his bloodied hand staining the smooth bark as he pulled himself to his feet once more. Letting out a sharp cry, Vegeta staggered but remained standing.

“I am not going die,” he thundered as he glared down at the dark blood on the cold dirt. “Not this way.”

“No…this way…”

Stiffening painfully, Vegeta’s back straightened and he remained facing forward as the young, quirky voice spoke behind him. Vegeta’s eyes were wide and he felt an unimaginable rage course through his aching body. Trembling now with pure anger, the saiyajin gazed up at the pale blue sky beyond the tree-tops. He refused to believe it. It could not happen. He could not die by Skip’s hand!

“Don’t you want to turn around, Saiyajin? Don’t you want to look your death in face?”

But Vegeta didn’t move. Rage, defeat, disbelief, and pure self-loathing engulfed his soul and he could only stand and quiver with scorching emotions as he sensed Skip smirking behind him, his hand holding the horrid device that controlled the chip inside of his stomach. After everything he had lived through in his life, he was going to be killed so pathetically by an insane, nerdy human. He had been wished back from death only months earlier…just to be murdered again.

“At level five, it won’t take that long to die. But it’s going to be the most excruciating experience of your life. Got anything to say?”

But all of Vegeta’s witty or arrogant replies were gone. He had been utterly defeated. Dropping his arms to his sides, Vegeta stared down at the ground before closing his eyes. There was a click and instantly all the saiyajin prince knew was pain.


Yamcha was sailing through the air, his eyes darting back and forth across the ground, his vision spotting the forest floor between brightly colored trees. Pure panic caused his senses to become twisted and confused as he tried to reach out for Vegeta’s weakened ki. Feeling a small twinge of energy, Yamcha stopped and whipped around, his brain moving so fast it felt as if it was humming. Trying to calm his racing heart, Yamcha concentrated and spread his senses outward, but his pure panic and adrenaline were making it almost impossible to feel any life force in the woods.

But the sudden screaming of agony and death caught his attention immediately. Darting to his right, Yamcha made a beeline for the horrifying cries and anguished choking. It was the worst sound he had ever heard and knew that it was the saiyajin prince on the brink of death. Seeing the two tiny figures ahead, Yamcha increased his speed and raced forward, a surge of anger gripping him as he saw Skip calmly holding his thumb against the red button on top of his little gray device.

“SKIP!!” Yamcha roared.

The man whipped around, his eyes huge as he saw the enraged super-fighter plowing forward, an expression of utmost hatred and fury on his face. He had never seen Yamcha look so terrifying and realized that, for once, perhaps he had gone too far. Immediately spinning around, Skip sprinted as fast as he could from the scene, the controller gripped tightly in his hand. He prayed that Yamcha would aide the saiyajin instead of chasing him down. He hoped that the one he loved would forget about him for now…and then come to his senses later.

“Coward!” Yamcha bellowed as he landed next to the convulsing prince. Glaring from the retreating form of his once good friend to the dying saiyajin on the ground, Yamcha knelt by the small body and lifted Vegeta into his arms.

Blood ran from his nose and mouth in thick streams, the almost black fluid trailing down his chin and across his cheeks. Gasping and choking, Vegeta jerked and whimpered, his black eyes now gray and ashy. His skin almost pure white, Vegeta looked ghostly and terrifying as blue veins stood clearly on his face and upper body. Yamcha could only stare down at the poor creature as his insides had been burned and electrocuted with the strongest waves of his own energy. Skip did it. He had actually used the fifth level of his evil creation and merely stood and watched with sick fascination as Vegeta writhed, screamed, and convulsed before him.

Feeling hot tears rise, Yamcha bundled the shaking body into his arms tightly as he rocked back and forth. Crouching over Vegeta protectively, Yamcha held the dying saiyajin close to his chest.

“Why did you leave?” He croaked miserably, pressing his burning cheeks against Vegeta’s icy cold skin. “I told you I would save you. You shouldn’t have left.” Sniffling, Yamcha peered into Vegeta’s blank face, watching as the saiyajin’s pale eyes stared off into the direction in which Skip had run.

“I don’t think he held it for a minute,” was all Vegeta said.

A new wave of tears fell from Yamcha’s eyes. The torture had caused Vegeta to become aberrant. The usually clear-minded and cocky fighter was as weak and helpless as a small child now. It was awful to witness such a thing.

“They’re still out there, Bruce and Hal.”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll take care of them,” Yamcha hissed. He wanted nothing more than to destroy the men that did this to Vegeta and him. “I am so sorry, Vegeta. I’m so sorry.”

Vegeta could barely feel the cool wind that blew against his skin. He truly wondered if he was going to die there, in this man’s arms, the man who had participated in raping him. What a truly pathetic ending. He would die without even fighting…without even killing at least one of the bastards who did this to him.

And Yamcha…this human would never recover. Vegeta believed him when he said he was sorry. He knew that the human would forever be scarred….besides the scars on his face already. And even though Vegeta knew he could never forgive the stupid man for what he did, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of emotion as he wept over his dying body. Yamcha, the human that had scorned him and hated him as much as the three-eyed fighter, bald-midget, and Piccolo now held him in a loving embrace and cried for his pain and torment.

He remembered the cold dark words that Skip had spoken while Yamcha blindly fucked him. He spoke so blandly, like it was plain to everyone but him. No one cared for him. No one thought he mattered even with his amazing power and strength. The humans had revealed their true, animalistic nature, proving that they were the same or worse than the saiyajins. And yet, here was Yamcha, a human who had actually used Vegeta’s body and found pleasure in fucking him wildly, now crying to the gods in Otherworld for what had happened to him. This human…pitied Vegeta…and somehow cared for him…in just one day of truly knowing him.

Vegeta breathed in deeply as Yamcha rocked back and forth, the motion soothing and comforting. He felt numb all over, yet his innards ached and pounded. It felt as if a fire had started in his stomach and burned everything inside, though he found he could still move. His fingers and toes wiggled and his arms and legs could still bend. If the idiot would just let go of him, go kill Skip, and bring him to the senzu beans, he would probably live.

Gazing around the environment, Vegeta became acutely aware that they were sitting very near to the small Cliffside he had accidentally plummeted from in his earlier attempt to freedom. The memory was fresh in his jumbled mind and he shook his pained head, trying to forget how close he had been to escaping. He had had some of his power then. That warm energy buzzing throughout his veins, limbs, and soul was a beautiful thing and he wished so badly to feel that strength one more time. He needed to feel it. He wanted to fly and shoot his energy at the earth and spar and battle once more before he died. The need was so powerful it hurt deep within his heart. He was a saiyajin and to be without his power for so long made him want to scream and rip the very skin from his body just to be free of the object that confined his awesome strength. He wanted these humans to know what a true saiyajin was and what he could do.

And just as he thought this, a familiar mousy man slowly approached, his dark hair appearing at the edge of the rocky fall, his hand gripping the ever-taunting controller tightly. Vegeta felt Yamcha jerk as his head lifted, the scarred-man stilling instantly as his black eyes bore into Skip’s approaching form. Moving cautiously forward, Skip stared through his cracked lenses, a small trail of blood dripping from his forehead to his chin.

“Yamcha, we are so close,” he pleaded. “What else can I do to show you that I love you? I’ve done all this for you. WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED?!”

Vegeta felt himself lowered slowly to the ground as Yamcha stood up, his tall, strong body overshadowing the motionless prince. Staring up at the grim, angry face, Vegeta saw that Yamcha was actually going to kill the insane scientist. The realization sent a sharp feeling of resentment throughout the proud saiyajin and he was suddenly back on Namek, his broken and bleeding body lying on the ground as Kakarot stood over him, his broad confident form overshadowing him as he lay helpless and pathetic in a pool of his own blood. Snapping back to reality, Vegeta glared up at Yamcha…and then noticed something beyond the bushes to the human’s right: A flash of neon hair, a chuckling ogre of a man, and the shimmering glass of a syringe aiming at Yamcha’s unsuspecting back.

Time seemed to move so slowly suddenly and Vegeta’s eyes widened. He wasn’t going to let someone win his battle. He was a saiyajin and he would die fighting, not lying on the ground weakly while someone else stole what was rightfully his! Once a single dart struck Yamcha, they were both finished. Vegeta could not allow it!

Without thinking, Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut and threw himself onto his stomach. Using as much power as he could, the saiyajin blocked out all pain, his mind concentrating on one thing—Skip. With a shriek of rage and outright agony, Vegeta flung himself onto his feet, allowing his momentum to carry him forward as he leapt off the ground with his left leg. Gripped tightly in his right fist was a flat rock, plate-like in appearance yet dull around the edges.

Roaring with uncontrolled fury, Vegeta sprinted forward as fast as he could and slammed his shoulder into Skip’s chest, sending the two of them crashing into the hard, rocky ground. The scientist let out a terrified shriek, his fingers immediately scrambling across his controller. Vegeta began to scream and flail as shock after horrid shock electrocuted his insides, but still he fought, his left hand clawing at the small man’s face as his right fist curled around the rock and beat Skip in skull. Growling and frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal, Vegeta scuffled with the crazed scientist, his flailing body causing them to roll dangerously close to the side of the cliff.

Feeling his insides twist and alight with his own searing powers, Vegeta screamed in utmost agony, his hands burying deeply into Skip’s flesh as he convulsed and coughed blood onto the man’s face. Jerking and howling in excruciating torture, the dying prince rolled off of the insane human and writhed on the edge of the steep, rocky plummet. With the blood leaking from his ears and shrill siren of agony in his skull, Vegeta could not hear the voice of Yamcha screaming in anger and fear or Skip’s raving growls. But he could see Skip’s bleeding, grinning face as he pressed the red button over and over again, his mouth moving as he mocked and teased.

With a snarl of animalistic fury, Vegeta threw himself onto his feet, his right arm moving in one swift arc. Holding the flat rock in mechanical fingers, Vegeta blindly lashed out, sensing that the rough stone had collided with something solid. Falling forward, the muscular saiyajin slammed into a body, his chest hitting rocky ground as his bloodied vision viewed a small man falling. Skip’s face stared up at Vegeta’s pale, dimming eyes as he collided with the pale rocks that jutted from the small canyon. His mouth hung agape as blood poured from his lips, his neck torn open and jugular completely hacked away from the flat-edged rock that had slid across his throat. Skip’s vision slowly dimmed as he saw the evil saiyajin hanging over the edge of his soon-to-be rocky grave, his right arm dangling over the dirt, holding a rock that had chunks of his own esophagus hanging from the dull sides.

Finally slamming into the rocky path at the bottom of the cliff, Skip’s world completely ended as his skull broke open on impact, his eyes staring blindly at Vegeta behind thick glasses. He only had one thought as he fell to his death. “I didn’t get to tell Yamcha good-bye.”

*‘Oh my! What will happen to our fighters next?’*