Chapter Text
It had been 4 months since Vegeta and Goku went to train on Beerus’ Planet. Bulma didn’t mind her husband’s absence as much as she used to, understanding that his training to be the “strongest in the universe" or whatever was of the utmost importance to him. After all, Frieza was still out there, and he was apparently immensely stronger than Goku and Vegeta. That short little creep.
Even though he prioritized training, Vegeta had managed to maintain taking time off to visit her and their family. He was never gone for longer than 6 months at a time, so she was certain he’d be returning soon. Besides, Whis and Beerus couldn’t stay away from Earth food for too long.
“Mama?” Bulma was pulled out of her thoughts to see her daughter, Bra, looking at her from across the table with those big innocent blue eyes. When had she grown up so fast?
Bulma paused her reply by giving a long yawn first. “Yes, sweetie?” She replied with a tired smile, noticing that Bra finished her breakfast. The girl ate so fast, just like her brother and father.
“I miss Papa…” Bra solemnly stated, eyeing her empty plate. To tell the truth, Bulma missed him too. “Don’t worry, Princess,” Bulma began, standing up to approach her daughter. She playfully squeezed Bra’s cheek, earning a whine of protest from the child that thinly veiled a giggle of secret enjoyment. “Daddy will be home soon to spoil you to your heart’s content!” They shared a smile before Bulma ruined Bra’s fun. “But he ain’t here to spoil you now, kid. So go take your dishes before you leave to get ready for school, young lady.”
It’s funny how Bulma and Vegeta’s parenting dynamic shifted. Back then, she used to spoil and dote on Trunks while Vegeta had a more tough approach. Nowadays, she was more strict on Bra, likely in retaliation to Vegeta constantly treating her like a princess. Someone had to be the parent that didn’t give in easily!
After Bra begrudgingly dropped off her dishes to the cleansing robots, she asked, “Do you miss Papa too? You seem… weird.”
Bulma raised an eyebrow. “Weird, how?”
“I dunno… You keep yawning and your eyes are super baggy.”
“You little brat! You get your eyes from me so watch what you say about them!” Bulma shrieked in offense, tickling her daughter out of retaliation. “Mama’s fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” She said after her tickle attack against Bra ceased. “I’m on vacation after all! Last thing I gotta worry about is your grumpy ol’ Papa. Now go get ready for school.”
“Ok!” And just like that, Bra was immediately assured and ran up the stairs, excited to try on a new outfit her mother got for her.
Now that Bulma was alone, she took the time to think. It’s strange, she really was a lot tired lately but she had no clue why. She’d taken a break from working in the lab, only focusing on Capsule Corp. CEO work–which was beyond easy and frankly, a bit boring. But not tiring in the slightest.
Her kids were becoming less dependent and growing up, so she didn’t need to stress much about that. If anything, these few months should’ve been the most relaxed she’s ever been. Yet for some reason, every morning when Bulma woke up, she felt completely exhausted. It was as if she was pulling consecutive all nighters in her lab like she used to. Maybe developing insomnia is just another symptom with aging. Ew. Bulma shuddered at the thought that she might be getting old.
After dropping Bra off to school, Bulma sighed a breath of relief as she had the house to herself. Trunks already took himself to school earlier, and her parents were chilling on a separate side of the Capsule Corp. compound. Her father called it their “retirement home” despite her mom and dad living in the same building. The mansion was huge enough for Bulma not to see her parents for days.
Something compelled Bulma to check in on her lab. Perhaps she could develop a sleeping pill or something. To be honest, she did miss tinkering in there. She made herself some coffee then headed down to the bottom floor of the compound where her personal laboratory lay.
As she opened the doors to her laboratory, Bulma was frozen and aghast by what she saw–immediately dropping her cup and spilling the hot liquid on the floor. But she didn't care about the spilled coffee, she cared about what the fuck a huge battle suit was doing in her lab. And why was there footage of Goku and Vegeta fighting on Beerus’ planet as if they were being recorded in real time?
Automatic analysis data of Goku and Vegeta’s training were being directly funneled into the battle suit. How could she have no recollection of what was going on?
Bulma’s immediate thought was to shut… whatever this was… all down so she could access the situation. However, as soon as she stepped forever to turn the battle suit off, a piercing headache suddenly struck into her head. She screamed, grabbing onto the wall to hold herself steady as she struggled to move forward. Her head was throbbing in pain. What was happening…
“Isn’t it beautiful?” A shrill, unrecognizable voice sang throughout the laboratory. Bulma tried her best to locate the source of the sound. “Over here, human!” It called out.
Bulma turned her head to where the battle suit was, now seeing an emerging figure lovingly stroke and admire the metal suit.
The figure was around half of Bulma’s size, but hosted an intimidating grin. His skin was a greenish-gray tint. Definitely an alien, Bulma thought, as she noted a long and wide antenna on top of the figure’s head that sloped off to one side. His eyes, though blue, were completely empty and pupil-less. “I said, isn’t it beautiful? You should be proud of yourself.” The figure slowly started walking towards Bulma, but she still couldn’t move–frozen in fear. “Despite being a primitive species, you certainly exceeded my expectations.”
“Who are you?” Bulma managed to squeak out. This earned a laugh from the alien. “We, my dear, are Tuffles. A scorned race of highly advanced, technological beings.” The figure answered.
“We?” Was all Bulma could manage to reply with.
“Well,” the alien began to laugh maniacally, “I guess you’re a Tuffle by proxy! Haha! What a wonderful edition you would’ve made if only you were born on our planet, and not yours.”
His laughing ceased and his eyes narrowed. He rushed towards Bulma, barely an inch away from her as he looked her dead in the eye. “A planet that houses disgusting Saiyans.”
Suddenly, it all hit her. “Wait a minute, Tuffles… I’ve heard of you.” She recalled her husband telling her about the origins of Planet Vegeta. They brutally committed genocide and conquered the Tuffles for their technology, establishing the new Planet Vegeta on their terrain–on top of the dead bodies of the poor species. “The Saiyans destroyed you…”
“And you had the gall to breed with the worst of the Saiyans! The damned Prince!” The alien lost his temper, grabbing her by the shirt and screaming at her.
“V-Vegeta’s not like that anymore–”
“Save it.” The alien took a deep sigh and let her go, calming down. “I’m Baby, and you are my perfect tool for revenge. Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way, let’s get goin–”
“I’m what?!”
The alien named Baby let out a laugh. “Look around. Don’t you recognize your own work?”
Bulma eyed the battle suit in shock and the corresponding fighting footage analysis to go along with it. She did this… That explained why she was so exhausted. She must’ve been doing this during the night when she thought she was asleep. For how long?
“How long have I been under your control? Making this… thing… to kill my husband and best friend.” Bulma looked down at the floor, so confused and filled with guilt.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll kill your half-demon spawn as well.”
Anger consumed Bulma after hearing that. “How fucking dare you!” She snapped out of her pity to snarl and throw a punch at Baby. It landed square in his jaw, but he simply laughed at the attack.
“To answer your question, about 4 months. More than enough time to perfect such an astounding creation. I couldn’t do it without you planting a chip in those two Saiyans before they left to train. Now this battle suit you have designed, knows their fighting style in and out. And can perfectly counter it.”
Bulma felt defeated. How could she have let someone take control of her mind and body during the night, while having no idea during the day? This was the one time she hoped her machine wasn’t optimally made. “So now what?”
Baby smiled, and lifted up Bulma’s chin to face him. “Now, you come with me to my planet to mass produce these. And we’ll have an army of unstoppable machines, each one capable of defeating even the most powerful Saiyans. And I will finally have my revenge.”
Bulma responded by spitting in Baby’s face. “If you think I will willingly join you to do such a terrible thing, you’ve got another thing coming!”
“I grow tired of your attitude. I think it’s time I make you fully obey now.” Baby frowned then sighed, darting his tongue out to lick the saliva that Bulma spat at him. She shivered in disgust. “Wanna know the funny thing? Despite your intelligence, your body is so frail and weak that I could’ve had complete control over you immediately. The only reason I didn't was so that no one would get suspicious before the prototype was ready. So I bided my time and took control of you when everyone else was sleeping. Right under their noses! And your own nose as well.”
Shit, he planned it out so no one would notice her building such a complex thing. All the while, Vegeta and Goku were nowhere on Earth and were, in fact, training their damn hardest to reach their fullest battle potential–which became even better data for Bulma’s machine to extrapolate from.
“But now, silly human. I’m going to take pleasure in completely rewiring your mind, to fully join my cause and to hate Saiyans as much as I do. Won’t that be poetic? For me to use the Royal Saiyan’s consort to ultimately exact my revenge and obliterate the rest of their filthy race! HAHAHAHA!”
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Trunks had an after-school routine of eating junk food with Goten and Mai after a long, hard day of learning absolutely nothing. Even though he knew he was far beyond his classes, he enjoyed school and being a regular teenager for once. Just hanging out after school with his buddies Goten and Mai.
“So Trunks,” Goten began, giving a sly face that Trunks already knew meant that he was going to be asked a ridiculous question. “You taking any of your eligible bachelorettes to the upcoming dance, Mr. Ladies man?”
Yep. Ridiculous indeed. Trunks had no interest in any of his suitors, which he had a lot of. Being handsome and rich comes with perks, his mom would say. She told him that he should enjoy the attention and that when she was younger, she had men lining up just to ask her for the time of day. His father, who was overhearing the conversation, didn't seem very entertained.
Trunks was different though. He didn’t enjoy the attention. He’d much rather just be left alone to hang out with his friends. Mai and especially Goten were the only people in his school he cared about spending time with.
“Nah, man,” Trunks began. “If I’m going to the dance with anyone, I’d prefer to go with–”
He was cut off by a sudden burst of blue barreling through the window and straight into Trunks’ chest. “Bra? What–”
“Mama’s gone! Mama’s gone!” Bra screamed over and over again, crying into Trunks’ shirt and soiling the fabric with tears. Though confused, Trunks rubbed her sister’s back to comfort her. “What happened, Bra? What’s going on?”
Through her sobs, she started to calm down, removing her face from Trunks' shirt to look up at him. “Mama didn’t pick me up today so I flew home but I couldn’t find her. She's gone! What if she’s in danger?”
Hearing this, Trunks knew something wasn’t right. His mom had been acting a bit weird the past few months, but this was uncharacteristically strange. Looking over at Goten and Mai, he said, “I’m gonna look for my mom.” He reached into his wallet to half hazardously pull out an arbitrary amount of zeni for the broken window, then flew off to Capsule Corp. with his sister in his arms.
“Trunks! Wait for us!” Goten called out, flying after his best friend while carrying Mai to bring her along.
The second Trunks made it home, he started calling out for Bulma. “Mom? Mom?!” Progressively getting louder and more panicked, he checked all over the house. Her room, the garden, her parent’s side of the house, the indoor pool, and then finally, he went down to her lab.
“Mom?” Trunks called out a final time, opening the laboratory door. But Bulma wasn't there. In fact, much to Trunks’ surprise, nothing was in there! It was completely emptied out as if all of her lab equipment had been nicely sealed away into a capsule. Just what the hell was going on?
All three of the half-saiyans and Mai exchanged confused glances. “Maybe we should reach out to Dad and Vegeta on Beerus’ Planet,” Goten suggested.
Then even more dread hit Trunk’s face. If everything in his mother’s lab was gone, that includes the communicator for Whis, the dragon radar, and the dragon balls themselves since she started to keep them in her lab for “safekeeping” (AKA selfish wishes).
As small as his mother’s ki was, he didn’t have much issue sensing it no matter where she was in the continent. But he couldn’t sense her at all. Either she was injured and too weak for her ki to be sensed, or she wasn’t even on Earth anymore. Both options horrified him.
This was bad. This was really bad. He needed his dad. Vegeta had the best ki reading of Bulma and could likely find her no matter where she was in the world. Trunks could only think of one way to reach those battle hungry Saiyans. “Goten, I need you, Gohan, and Piccolo to do me a favor. We gotta raise our power level as high as we can so our dads can come to us immediately. Something isn’t right here.”