A/N: This will be the first DBZ fanfic I ever shared. I am nervous about it. Um, lets see, this fanfic idea popped in my head after watching Zombieland for the second time with my friend. Following Zombieland we watched some DBZ for the first time in a few years. For me anyway, hahaha. Anyway, we began to discus how much Vegeta would love a zombie apocalypse, killing as many as he wanted and he couldn't get into trouble. I wanted to kind of be in canon though, so the plot takes place kind of between Dragonball and Dragonball Z. Hope you enjoy.
Vegeta was bored out of his mind. He was sitting and listened to his wife, Bulma, who was sitting next to him. She was jumping and screaming every time something popped up on the screen. Cheap scares. The most ridiculous thing the planet Earth had ever convinced in his opinion. They were pointless, half the time not that scary, and they did nothing for him. Though for his wife, it made her make the most God awful noises that his sensitive ears had ever had the displeasure to ever listen to. He had warned her several times in the past that he would rather not listen to her scream. She did not listen, and she continued to watch these movies that made her make such noises. He cursed as she jumped again, this time, dropping the bowl of popcorn they were sharing. He growled. 'The only worth while thing when it comes to these stupid movies, and she knocks it over.' “Nice job woman.”
“It’s not my fault Vegeta, this movie is so scary!” she whined, half covering her face as a poor soul on the screen was being eaten alive by herds of zombies. Guts and blood, spattered as the man screamed on the TV screen. Vegeta rolled his eyes.
“I've seen worse in real life. Besides, this looks so fake,” he commented. Bulma had been making him for several years now to watch these Hollywood movies, almost weekly now. And nothing bored him more than one of her horror movies. He had assumed that when they got older and settled perhaps she would stop watching them, but that had not happened. Not at all. Here they were, married, two kids, and she was still watching these movies, and still frightened by them.
“I doubt you have seen a man get eaten alive by zombies,” Bulma cried. “Zombies don't exist.”
“They weren’t zombies, but there is an alien species that eats residents of planets whole. And if you die by their hands than you will mutant into one of them and join them,” Vegeta explained, a very serious expression traced every line of his face.
“Your making that up!” Bulma cried, jumping up and placing her hands on her hips. He rolled his eyes. He cared for his wife, not that he would ever admit it, but not when she went into the ‘everyone is wrong and I am right’ mode; which this was the perfect example of.
“I am not.”
“Then how come I don't ever remember you telling me about this?”
“One, you never asked, two it was a long time ago. I was only seventeen,” he pointed out. She took a seat; a frown was planted on her lips as she listened to him and his claims. He was well use to her fighting to believe him or not. It didn't actually bother him. He knew it was true, and hell, if Raditz and Nappa were around they'd know it was true as well. They had all faced these aliens that wanted nothing more than to eat them. They might have if they hadn’t been smarter in battle; with their speed, strength and all the biting. Then an idea struck him. He grinned, and pulled up his pant leg and dropped his leg onto her. “Ahh, Vegeta!”
“See the scars?” he questioned.
“Which ones, you’re pretty nearly all scarred,” she pointed out. He reached over and pointed to the middle of his leg, between the front of his leg and his calf. “Do you see the bite marks?”
It took her a moment to make it out, but when she did, he noted the dumbfounded look on her face. He grinned and pulled his leg away. “I told you.”
“I bet that was Trunks when you were training when he was younger. Especially during his biting stage,” she stated. “I have a scar from him biting my arm,” she pointed out to her elbow. He rolled his eyes. There was his wife going on and on about her very crazy theories as to why he was making things up. They were always wrong. And he was just as serious now. He wasn't going to let her brush this story aside just like all his others. He had nearly died. His team nearly died, it had been the first, and the only time that he was frightened by perhaps being the only one of his kind left. He had accepted that over the years, but not yet out when he was barely out of his teens. It had frightened him, and he would be damned if he would let his woman say otherwise.
“I am not making this up woman,” he cursed, grabbing the remote to the television and turning the television off, making sure she was going to pay full attention to him.
“Hey, we're watching that!” Bulma cried.
“Not anymore! You want truly scary entertainment?! Well then you'll have to listen to my story!”