Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z

A/N: This was written for the We're Just Saiyan Community's August BVDN – I forgot to post it at the time, so here it is two months later! The theme was 'Pandora's Box', with each drabble restricted to 100 words. I'm happy to say I managed to keep every drabble at exactly 100 words.

Unleashing the Beast

Turmoil

The hairs on Bulma's arms stood on end as she strode down the great hall. It reminded her of a gothic Cathedral, the ceilings high, adorned with faded paintings of Saiyan greatness.

She ran her hand over a sculpture, her fingers brushing centuries of dust and grime. Hell, this place was creepy, even if the Saiyans were long dead. She froze as she spotted a pile of bones scattered haphazardly on the tiles, testament to the turmoil that met the end of the old regime.

A shiver ran down her spine.

It still felt as if their ghosts were lingering.

Strife

"What is this place?"

Her voice was a breathless whisper, filled with horror and strife. She knew what it was; she was a genius, and had once discussed similar strategies back on her home world. How could one preserve the human race in the face of Kuriza's terror? In the end they hadn't had time.

Neither had the Saiyans. She strolled through row upon row of preserved embryos, her hands lit by the faint glow of the vials as she reached out to touch one. There were enough Saiyans in here to repopulate a planet.

She had to destroy them.

Passion

"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you."

She jumped, hands pulling away from the open generator as if it burned. Whirling around, her eyes searched the darkness, heart racing as she tried to lock onto the owner of the voice.

He stood couched in shadows, her mind registering the dark gleam in his eyes, and a dramatic flame of jet-black hair before he shifted forward in a blur that had her reeling backwards, breath caught in her throat as he leaned into her, their knees touching.

"I hate Frieza with a passion, and you will not spoil my revenge."

Death

He leaned back against the table top, his expression smug. She rubbed at her wrists where he had grabbed them, feeling the bruised flesh.

Her brilliant mind could not form an explanation for this. Regardless, she knew what she was looking at – the man was clearly a Saiyan, his tail wrapped around his waist, his demeanour embodying Death itself. It didn't make sense, but at this point all she cared about was getting out alive.

"Do you have a name?" he asked her. She got the distinct feeling that he considered her a plaything.

"Bulma."

… Breathe…

"And yours?"

"Vegeta."

Sickness

His striking features hardened into a glare. "You were going to disable to power to the life support to my people."

"No."

"You lie."

Once more he stepped towards her, cornering her until she was trapped between his body and the cold marble wall behind her.

"I am no fool. I am the Saiyan Prince. Don't fuck with me, child."

"I'm not," she whispered in reply, eyes darting over his face. She could see the faint lines around his mouth that belied his age.

She couldn't tell him the truth – the Saiyans were a plague that she would happily end.

Hatred

She followed after Vegeta, deep into the underbelly of the palace. Her torchlight bounced off the walls, the only source of light around.

"Are you the only one here?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes." His gruff voice echoed off the stone walls around her. "I awoke from cryosleep thirty years ago. I found the other sleepers had perished."

The dark, cavernous stairwell opened up into a softly lit cave, a natural formation furnished to provide comfortable living. The palace above had been ransacked long ago.

"Frieza thought he destroyed us. I will show him what true hatred looks like."

Curiosity

"Tell me, why are you here?" he demanded, turning his dark stare upon her once more, and any inkling of safety she felt disappeared under his intense gaze. Behind her the fire that warmed the room crackled, and she shifted forward, the heat too much to bear.

"Curiosity. I'm a scientist. There are so many rumours about the downfall of the Saiyan Empire; I wanted to see what truth I could find. I hate leaving questions unanswered."

"Hn. So you weren't here for this, then?" he asked, pulling an object from his armour.

The dragonball sat glowing in his palm.

Jealousy

Vegeta stood looming over her, a sneer plastered on his face. "Give me the others," he ordered. "You, weakling, do not have the right to use such precious things."

"What?" she hissed back, her fears translating into anger. She stood, pressing forward until their faces were only inches apart. "Are you jealous that you never thought of the dragonballs? You've been rotting here for thirty years doing nothing, and now you think you can just take them? No!"

"I'll do what I like!" he screamed back, hands clamping down on her shoulders. He shook her violently, her teeth clattering together.

Hope

The dragonballs had been all that was left of her hope. Without them, there was no way to save her people.

She stared at the six that sat glowing in his lap, their black stars blinking like the pulse of a heartbeat. Her planet's future, now meaningless in the hands of a man who should have died long ago.

She watched in silence as he rose, depositing the dragonballs back into the capsule she had handed over. "Where is the last dragonball?" he asked, his back still turned. She imagined driving a knife between the blades of those wide shoulders.

Giver of All

He disappeared out of sight, only to reappear right in front of her, wrapping a gloved hand around her throat in a silent threat. He applied only the slightest pressure, but it was enough for her to feel her own pulse hammering against his fingertips.

"Where is the dragonball?"

"Namek," she whispered, eyes wide and trapped in his gaze.

"Namek," he repeated. "They say the Gods are born there; that its magic can give life. Perhaps it will save yours."

She swallowed, her throat clicking under his palm. "Perhaps," she breathed. "You need me to operate my ship for you."

Pandora's box

Her ship was called Pandora.

She stared at it now with a grim sense of irony; she had set off in this ship to save her world. Instead, it would be used to unleash an old evil on the universe.

"Open," she commanded, the door sliding open at the sound of her voice. She stepped inside, the Prince of Saiyans following her.

"You know, Frieza is dead," she told him cautiously. "You won't have your revenge, even if you want it."

"Revenge against his son will be just as sweet. After Kuriza's death, the Saiyan race will rule the galaxy."