Giving Up
by Icypinkpop     More by this Writer
Raditz was always Vegeta's bodyguard, his companion. Was it at all possible that he could be less? Or more?

Warning of underage sex, seeing that Vegeta is 15 years old in this story.
Art Source:
Graphic Violence Shota Rape Abusive

Giving Up- One
“Another weak one.”

Scoffing, Raditz hoisted himself from the spacepod, dark eyes glimmering lowly as he took in his surroundings. “This is pathetic. The gods know when we're going to get a real challenge.”

The larger of the two followed suit, a meaty finger already poised upon the button of his scouter. “Mhmm. I can't detect anything with a reading over 400.” He stared at Raditz through the blue glass. “Are we the only ones on this job?”

“No.” The long-maned Saiyan spat at the soil in a vexed manner, kicking some nearby foliage aside with his boot. “Prince Vegeta is assigned as well. His…injuries are being tended to.”

“Injuries?” Nappa looked surprised. “What's he injured from? He was fine the last time I saw him.”


“There was an accident on one of the other planets,” Raditz eventually got out, leaning back against his space capsule as he affixed Nappa with his best attempt at a trustworthy gaze.
He didn't fancy betraying his suspicions regarding the Prince to the burly Saiyan; Vegeta's honor was among the highest upon his list of desires. Put simply, Nappa couldn't keep his mouth shut. Thankfully for sake of secrecy, it wasn't very difficult to fool the big buffoon.

“He is expected sometime within the next few hours.”

To his relief, Nappa accepted his explanation without much thought.

“Oh. With any luck, we'll be done by then.” A wide smirk swept over the larger's lips. “I can't wait to get some food. I hope the inhabitants have a bit of meat on their-”

Raditz intentionally decided not to pay any further attention to this particular rant, and turned his attention to the landscape, brows furrowing into an unimpressed scowl.

Every planet was the same. Rock, dust, the lingering taste of cold, scarce oxygen. No matter the diversity of inhabitants, the grimy, dead flesh that they all became bore the same sickly greenish color, that same foul odor. The blandness of this job sickened him to the point of disgust. In his eyes, the only aspect of this trade worth experiencing was hearing the shrieks and screams of terror ring out at his will.
Every prisoner that sank to their knees, begging for his mercy, brought a smile to his lips that only such unfaltering obedience could provoke.
He hated to deprive his Prince of that sort of enjoyment.

“And I whapped him over the head, and he took his girly ass crying all the way back to-”

“Shut up, Nappa,” Raditz replied automatically, tail tightening around his waist as he hovered up a few feet into the stale air. “We'd better get on it or Frieza will have our heads. It's been weeks since I've had fresh meat.” He sniffed, biting wind whipping through his coarse mane.

“Prince Vegeta will be here soon. It's our duty to take care of him when he arrives.”

~I have a feeling he's going to need it.~

Seemingly of a similar opinion to the one stated, Nappa turned and followed, leaving deep footprints in his wake.
Vegeta yanked at the side of the gauze bandage with his teeth, hissing as deep shots of pain rocketed through his abused arm. That bastard. That fucking bastard. How could he refuse him a regen tank when he so obviously needed one?

Eyes narrowed, the Saiyan braced himself as his space capsule gave another unexpected hurtle through space, stomach jumping as a result. The coppery scent of his own blood thickened the already stagnant air. Vegeta sighed heavily.

At least this impromptu job got him away from Frieza for a few days.
Another hiss left chapped lips as the capsule dipped suddenly downwards, quickening its speed as it broke the weak atmosphere of whatever planet he was coming to `renovate'. Being a Saiyan, he knew he was ideal for this sort of work. The grinding of bones, the sputter and sizzle of heated blood. All brought color to the dark and dull life he had otherwise been left with.

He shifted again, feeling the space capsule steady itself as it prepared to break the atmosphere of whatever planet he had come to. Taking a deep breath in an effort to silence the agonized moans that seemed determined to escape his throat, the Prince braced his booted feet against either side of the pod, hands clenched into bloody fists beneath immaculate gloves. Before another shivering dose of stale oxygen could find its way to his lungs, Vegeta's surroundings went dark, the small florescent lights above his head flickering out. His eyes widened. What was-


Vegeta's aching bones protested as he was slammed mercilessly against the side of the ship. Head swimming with nausea and agony, the Prince unsuccessfully attempted to right himself, stomach lurching as he felt the pod swerve once more to the side. Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Vegeta frantically dragged his hands over the control panel, hissing as a broken finger twisted as a result. The ship gave another unexpected dive, shaking back and forth violently as it broke the atmospheric barrier.

Vegeta hissed, feeling blood from his injuries pool between his legs. Through the darkness of the interior, he could only make out the slight, cold glow of the nearing planet, eyes fluttering shut. Whirrs thrummed through his head, tears running down his cheeks as his surroundings took another cruel jerk off course. Now lost in blackness as he struggled to remain awake, Vegeta finally let loose the cry he had been suppressing, all control surrendered. He couldn't see, couldn't speak. He could only scream.

The last functioning remnants of his common sense reminded Vegeta that he should be used to that by now.

Shuddering as his desire to remain awake began to fail him, the Prince found himself defenseless to unconsciousness, sparks of color exploding before his mind's eye. The movement around him stopped, a hard, unforgiving surface smashed into his broken body, and all went black, blood trickling over his lips.


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