Testing the water with this new story. My previous one shot "Last Rite" was a teaser for this, so go ahead and take a peak if you want to.
Heads up to everyone that doesn't like when things deviate too much from canon - this story might not be for you. Things will be very different, so please keep an open mind.

Enjoy!

Bulma leaned back against the cushy seat of the car. She was exhausted, not only mentally but physically. It had been a long week that had reached its climax during today's award ceremony in downtown West City. The new Capsule Corp Dino-Caps for professional industrial use had allowed their new expansion to hit the ground running and revolutionize the field of storage in regards to professional industrial equipment. The mathematics behind the capacity and weigh cancellation of the capsules had been brutal, and she had spent more time than she cared to admit, with a greater team than she cared to admit, just figuring out the schematics. Prototype testing had been frustrating as well, and there had been a stagnant two week time period so heavy with failure that she had seriously started to doubt her own abilities, as well as her further leadership of the company.

She herself had no personal interest or even investment in the professional industrial sector but she had been determined to prove herself in the field, once and for all silencing her last critics. While she was rich beyond measure, beautiful enough to pass as a model, as well as educated and brilliant enough to outshine the rest of her field, in the eyes of many members of the scientific community she had one flaw; she was a woman. A woman smarter than them, while only measuring 5'4, and officially making it into the "fun sized" category of some trashy magazines last years annual reader voting.

If Bulma Briefs had learned one thing early in life it was that the world was full of mediocre men, but held no room for mediocre women. So she strove for greatness in everything she did. Not an easy feat. Her feet ached in their confines of her ridiculously expensive designer heels - to cancel out the height difference men held over her,- and she was sore from last nights excruciating session with her personal trainer. The world also had little room for overweight women. In short, Bulma Briefs, the most brilliant and gorgeous woman on this planet had just won the highest distinction her field had to offer, showing up all the competition, and she was miserable.

In her relentless quest to be the best and create the new capsules, she had sacrificed not only sleep but also her relationship. Feed up with the long hours she invested into the project, and the recent strain a rather public alleged cheating scandal had brought on their relationship, her fiance had called off the engagement. 8 years as a official couple and 2 years of engagement had ended in a phenomenal blow that left her hurling Yamcha's belongings over her balcony, and onto the front lawn of Capsule Corp - yes, not very classy, her public relations manager had told her already - and eating ice cream straight from the carton while sitting in an empty guest room at her home. She had been hollow, couldn't even bring herself to cry over the dramatic ending of her longest relationship.

Now, sprawled out rather un-lady-like in the backseat over her limo, award carelessly tossed onto the empty seat next to her, all she wanted to do was cry. Her hard work had paid off, but the emptiness in her chest had not diminished. She was 29 years old, the most distinguished in her field, and now the most eligible Bachelorette the world had to offer. She lived the lives portrayed in high fashion magazines and TV shows that focused on the illustrious lives of the super rich and she was alone and unhappy. Deep down she longed for adventures like that of her childhood. When she had been young and careless, meeting Yamcha in the desert, tangling briefly with the Red Ribbon Army and falling so deeply in love with the young man that she hadn't even cared that she had not found the last Dragon Ball. It had been buried at the bottom of the ocean and all their attempts to bring it to the surface had failed. In the end, they had coincidentally stumbled upon Master Roshi and his student Krillin before Yamcha joined the Turtle School of Kung-Fu and she went back to finish her degrees as summer ended.

The limo smoothly pulled up into the driveway of Capsule Corp. effectively pulling the young woman out of her reminiscing thoughts. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through her mouth the heiress put on her brightest smile, grabbed the award from the empty seat and exited the car. The lights from the cameras going off were almost blinding, and she struggled harder than usual to keep her professional business smile intact when she waved at the horde of reporters that had already gathered outside her residence. Bulma ignored the shouts of congratulations and questions about future inventions, as well as the occasional question about her private life, when she walked with purpose in her step to the front door, giving one final wave before disappearing into the privacy of the compounds thick yellow walls.

Her heels clattered loudly on the marble flooring, and Bulma was off to the kitchen in search of a strong Mojito without even paying the 35 thousand Zeni custom-designer pieces any mind. The light of the fridge was too bright and she squinted while hunting for lime juice and mint before returning to kitchen island to mix the ingredients. Nipping at her stiff drink with little spirit her gaze fell upon one of the gossip magazines her mother liked to read. Cheap hearsay and inflated rumors were Panchy's guilty pleasure and Bulma often wondered how her mother could stand to read the false news these tabloids usually spewed about their family, or more specifically her. The one currently laying on the expensive counter next to her showed Bulma, on her balcony, furiously screaming at Yamcha, in the Capsule Corp driveway, while thick red lettering read "Secrets of their nasty break-up! Bulma Briefs dumped and furious". Rolling her eyes in annoyance, partly at the magazine and partly at herself, she emptied her glass of liquor and pushed herself off the kitchen island, leave it to the media to ignore the fact that even back then she had been nominated for the award she had just won. Yet all that had made it to print was the sham that was her personal life. It was definitely time to go to bed.

Climbing the stairs with nothing but a hot shower and her bed in mind Bulma took off and discarded her dress the second her bedroom door closed. Another piece of sinfully expensive designer clothing that she wore once and could never wear again. That would be a scandal, Bulma Briefs wearing the same designer dress twice, so what was the use of actually hanging it up?

By the time she finally fell into the soft satin cushions of her luxurious bed she was once again wistful of the lost adventures of her childhood. Being next in line to take over the biggest Cooperation in the world had tied her down, she loved the work, loved seeing the pride in her father's eyes as he slowly transitioned more and more leadership tasks to her, loved the power of creating and designing anything she wanted simply because she had the resources at her disposal. But she had lost the ability to be spontaneous, wild and free. Hunting for mystical wishing orbs and meeting strange boys in crazy places, like the desert, before falling in love with them, like Yamcha. Bulma Briefs had a schedule now, people who looked to her for guidance and a paycheck as well as the next genius idea. Live had become monotone and boring, and as she was drifting off to sleep she longed for more adventures in her life again.

It was 4.08 in the morning when her phone rang and she hadn't even found the strength to open her eyes when she brought the piece of technology to her ear and grumbled a sleepy "yes?". It was the government. Bulma sat bolt upright in bed, stumbling for her laptop before her body had even fully caught on to what the man on the other line was saying. Her laptop hummed to live and she found herself squinting against the harsh glare of the display in her otherwise dark bedroom. As promised there was an email in her inbox, no text, just an attached image. Her breath caught in her throat when the picture finally fully opened on screen, a small countdown in the right corner indicating 25 seconds remaining before the message deleted itself. Almost dropping her cell phone she stared at the image, her skin breaking out in goosebumps prickling all over her body.

"What exactly am I looking at Director?!"

"We believe them to be one-man Spacecrafts. We actually hoped that you could tell us more. You're expected within the hour, a car will pick you up".

Vegeta groaned as he rolled over and buried his face deeper in the pillows, it was too early to wake up to another day of duty and responsibilities. It was not that Vegeta did not like being a King, quiet on the contrary, he was simply too exhausted to face the council first thing in the morning. The members of the Royal Council had called for a meeting late last night, cutting his training short to address the ever-present issue that he seemed unable, perhaps more unwilling, to solve. Yet.

He was aware of his duty to the Kingdom, but there was no use in pressuring a man, least a King, into the selection of a mate to bear an heir. The council members argued that he was getting older and the people restless, that an heir was needed to show that the royal line was going to continue forward. Especially after his father's grave mistakes that had cost almost all of them their lives. A certain member even had the audacity to suggest to him that he didn't need to take a mate, just bed and breed something pretty and strong to whelp a cub. If he had still been the same man he had been under Frieza Vegeta would have killed the old man on the spot for having the gall to even think he could meddle in his private affairs like that.

Somehow that was exactly where the problem lay. He was no longer a soldier under Frieza - thank the gods of Vegetasei - but he was not like them either. His years in servitude under the tyrant had been long and dark, ridden with desperation and the constant worry that he might not live long enough to avenge his father and reclaim the Saiyan throne. It had taken years, many more years than he had thought it would, much more than he had sometimes thought he could survive, but in the end, he had achieved his birthright and ascended. He had beaten Frieza in a battle so close he had only won by the skin of his teeth. What followed after was his return to Vegetasei and the very crown that had always rightfully been his. Everything should have been fine, he had done the task his father had given him when he had handed him over to Frieza as a mere child. A task he had not strayed in achieving even after the lizard killed his father and appointed himself King of Vegetasei, claiming his right to do so by stating Vegeta was too young to be King and he, Frieza himself, now his only legitimate guardian. The audacity of that statement made him seethe even on the present day.

In the years under him, he had become who he needed to be to survive. A development now so deeply embedded within him that it now set him apart from the other Saiyans around him. In his youth he hadn't known better, he was the Saiyan Prince, last of the line of Vegeta, and by all standards everything a Saiyan should be. That was until he had returned, had come face to face with his people and a huge chasm had gaped open between him and the rest of his people. He was withdrawn, his pack almost non-existent and even by the standards of other Saiyans, the greatest warriors in the universe, he was overly brutal. Relishing the kill almost more than the battle itself. Killing your opponent meant living another day. Being withdrawn meant no attachments that could be exploited, no added worries about covering all potential weaknesses. The people he now lead were all but faceless strangers to him, strangers who celebrated him like a God of War for freeing them from under the oppression of Frieza. Strangers he deep down resented for sitting back and placing the hope of their entire race on the shoulders of a child.

He was not that old. Especially by Saiyan standards, he still had many years in his prime ahead of him. And while the relationship with his father had been terrible and filled with pressure and anger he knew instinctually that any relationship he was to have with his own heir needed to be better. He wanted it to be better. But he didn't know how, so he refused the council. He couldn't enjoy intimacy beyond the biological need that it arose from, and the traditional Saiyan courtship and meeting ritual required to dominate one's mate as a show of strength. Something every worthy Saiyan female would insist upon and fight him tooth and nail for. Something that also made his stomach turn, he had no problem with forcing submission, but in this intimate act, it reminded him too much of the countless acts of rape he had witnessed under Frieza's service ever since he was a child. His life experiences forever soiling some of the very bases that constituted Saiyan life and culture.

Groaning he rolled over once more, bare feet hitting the cool floor of his chambers as he observed the rising twin suns that peaked over the horizon, and spilled the red hues of the morning through the enormous windows located towards the foot of his bed. The morning meal would be waiting for him by the time he had finished his light morning warm-up and stretching routine, after that he would meet with his Generals, Merchants, and Ambassadors. A new labor planet had been completed just recently promising to once and for all grant Vegetasei sure footing in the field of technological advancement throughout the Galaxy. In the end, they had all suffered under Frieza, not only in numbers but in the development of many important technological and agricultural advancements.

The re-introduction of gestation chambers had allowed their numbers to rise since his return to the throne some 10 sun cycles ago, and the number of children, especially females, showed promise for the future. With the acquisition of new planets, establishments of labor camps and the joining of other species under the realm of the Saiyan Empire, his reach was rapidly extending.

While Frieza was dead, his brother wasn't and under the still existing threat from the Colds many planets all but flocked like willing sheep to request allegiance with the Saiyans. Aligned Planets swore loyalty to his throne, allowed for the stationing of Saiyan soldiers and a share of their goods to the Kingdom once peer Saiyan Moon cycle. In return, they received the promise of safety from the Cold's and their government structures remained virtually the same, with the addition of Vegeta himself at the very top - should he ever decide to intervene in a planet's happenings his word and decisions would be law. Something unlikely to happen to the majority of their sworn alleys as the Worlds under his command had grown too numerous to examine in their daily occurrences and lives unless crises arose.

At 30 sun cycles of age, he was not only the King of all Saiyans but Emperor of the entire Jovian system. Constituting most of the known Universe and putting serious pressure on the shrinking remains of the Cold empire.

His tail swayed behind him as he patted to the large windows of his chambers, observing the scenery of the World of his birth as it stretched out before his chambers high above the ground. The private royal garden stretched out below him, incorporating a large private lake before being met by palace walls that separated the palace from the capital at the foot of a mountain chain. They were mostly small mountains, reaching and building in height the further one ventured from the capital before the mountains reached their peak at the Mountain of Kings. The resting place for any King of Vegetasei. On mornings like this Vegeta wished to strangle the architect who had designed and build the Royal Palace thousand of Sun cycles prior and thought it a good idea to be having the bedchamber of the reigning King face his final resting place in death.

Rolling his shoulders in agitation at his own thoughts Vegeta turned away from the windows to begin his morning routine. The day would be filled with people demanding his attention, his decisions, his opinions and his dedication, wasting valuable time to be resentful of an old dead fools architectural faux pas was not an option.

By the time he was dragging himself back to his chambers the twin suns had long disappeared behind the horizon, and his late-night training session had done little to ease his agitation about the happenings of the day. He had first beat Nappa and then Raditz into the regeneration tanks before working himself to the bone in the training area.

The hand of his dirty glove was already raised to type in the command for opening his royal chambers when his Head of Planetary Observation and Allegiances came hurrying down the wide and long dimly lit hallway, requesting immediate action to make contact with a small mudball on the very edge of their trading routes. How the kingdoms observational and scouting drones had even found the useless floating rock was beyond him. Who had directed them there in the first place was another topic he dared not even broach, lest he had to beat some other incompetent fool into the ground for wasting his valuable time and resources. With a dismissive hand gesture and growling in anger at the late disruption he send the man on his merry way;

"Just send some fucking pods!"

"Yes, your Majesty!"

I hope you enjoyed it!
Thank you for reading and on embarking on this journey with me!