Hi! I know, I know. Why in the bloody hell am I starting another fic, when I have a the ending of Book 1 of Destiny Lost to finish and Book 2 to develop... But I was watching one of my favorite movies (I'll let you guys guess what it is) and thought "Hey, this plot would make a fantastic V/B fic" So I thought I'd give it a go. It'll be loosely based on the movie (again, ya'll can guess what it is). But will probably develop into something else as the fic continues.

And yes, this is a Bulma and Vegeta fic... don't let this chapter fool you!

This fic will have adult type themes, and as always cussing. C'mon, it's a fic with Vegeta... cussing is mandatory...

Warning: Although, I try to keep my characters in character, they may or may be OOC. This is an A/U. Vegeta isn't a Saiyan, but he's just as much of a bad ass in this fic. Since there is a warning, I don't want to hear any complaints. =) Coppice?

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or it's characters.

Enjoy...

Vegeta looked at his watch.

3:15

Three minutes until he clocked into work... sort of. He sighed heavily and cracked his neck. This whole scene was getting old. He needed change... a fresh start maybe.

He placed his elbows on his bent knees and scanned the ritzy hotel suite he had been staying in for the past five days. Even staying in rich hotels, such as this one was getting to be dull. It was just as exciting as laying in a man made ditch, which he has had to do on many occasions. He shook his head. Same thing, different city.

Vegeta remembered when this job was everything to him... fun, exciting... He loved it. What happened?

He glanced at his watch again.

3:16

With a heavy frown he lifted his high powered rifle, making sure the silencer was on, then made sure it was loaded and ready. He lifted off of the floor and aimed outside of the open window, all the while making sure to stay camouflaged in the darkness of the room. He looked through the scope onto the street, waiting for 3:17 to hit.

Like clockwork, a very large man in an expensive tailored suite, sauntered out of the five star restaurant that was directly across street from where Vegeta was. The large man was followed by two goons, who were the man's bodyguards. They too were dressed nicely, and Vegeta chuckled to himself that in just a few seconds, they wouldn't be looking too nice.

The large man's name was Vinny Constenzo. He was a major crime boss, who just got off on five counts of murder... and it wasn't the first time. The prosecutor's had rock solid evidence, but he got off, scott free. Probably because Vinny had his people tamper with the jury.

Typical asshole, who thought he was above everyone else, just because he ran a crime family and had lots and lots of money.

These were the jobs Vegeta loved to take. Silently ridding the world of scum like Vinny. Ok, maybe the job has it's rewards...

Vegeta squeezed off the first shot, hitting Vinny directly in the chest. The fat man didn't even know what hit him. And before good ol' Vinny hit the cement, so did his two bodyguards.

He shook his head in disapproval. The two so-called bodyguards didn't even have enough time to pull their guns out before he shot the two directly in the chest, just like Vinny.

He made quick work as he expertly dismantled his rifle and put the pieces in the designated, form fitting foam in a medium sized black hard case.

Just as he finished his phone vibrated. He clicked the button of his earbuds, that doubled as a headset.

"Yes?" He growled.

"Sir, is the job complete?" The familiar voice said in a calm, nonchalant tone.

"Yes." Vegeta punched the 'down' button to the elevator. "Has the money been transferred to my account?"

"Yes." Said the voice. "One point six million dollars."

Vegeta's scowl lost some of it's sharpness at the sound of the amount. That's probably why I haven't quit this yet. He mused jokingly to himself. "I'm coming in."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to leave your next assignment on your desk."

Vegeta ended the call. He didn't want to think about work right now. He just wanted to catch his flight home and go to sleep. Thinking of the next contract made him feel even more tired than he was.

He paused at the door to his office. He didn't want to go in. It would be the same ol' thing waiting for him on his desk; a dossier, with some person's whole life on a few sheets of paper, including what that person did to piss off the 'powers that be' aka: the government.

Vegeta tried to think back to when he started to lose the thrill of the kill. The excitement about taking a sick asshole off of the street.

He tightened his expensive black tie and reached for the knob and opened the door. He peeked in, making sure he didn't have any unexpected guest, once he felt it was ok, he entered his large private office.

A large red envelope laid in the center of his desk, as well as one or two regular sized envelopes. He sat down and just stared down at items and thought of the question he had just asked himself. Maybe it was Paraguay that did him in. The job was particularly dirty... in more ways than one. He had to spend three hours in the sewer to escape the president of the country's henchmen. They didn't take too kindly to find Vegeta, covered his blood, standing over their recently killed leader with a large serrated knife sticking out of his neck. Things didn't go as planned on that job...

With a heavy sigh, which he was doing a lot of lately, he pushed the red envelope aside and picked up the small white envelope addressed to him.

He ripped the envelope open and pulled out a thick card stock piece of paper, and did a double take and read it out loud;

Class of 2111. Can you believe it's been 10 years? It's class reunion time! Come reminisce with your fellow West City Panthers Saturday July 7th.

He looked at his watch. It was July 5th.

"PFFT." He hissed mockingly. "No way in hell am I going back to that fucking place." He tossed the invite into the trash bin, his mind involuntarily wandered back to June of 2111. His face twisted as he pushed the memories of her back down to where they came from and grabbed the red envelope, ripping it open.

This was a run of the mill hit. Although, it didn't go into detail as to why this particular person deserved to be killed. He shrugged his shoulders. Whatever, he'd do it. The offer was a decent amount, a cool three million dollars. Not bad.

He continued to read over the person's background. At first the information didn't click. But as he read on, his left eye twitched and a headache started to form at the base of his neck.

"Fuck me." His gravely voice reverberated off of the walls.

He stuffed the papers back into the envelope and swiped the card stock out of the trash bin.

If this wasn't dumb luck, he didn't know what it was.