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The shackles binding his feet and hands together jangled as he walked with small steps into the room. He wore a red jumpsuit identifying him as a very dangerous prisoner, and thinking him anything else would be your error not his. He was shown by the two guards each holding one of his elbows to the seat opposite the detective that was going to interview him. One brutally shoved him into the seat and the prisoner rose his eyes to stare at the guard mentally noting his badge number. He'd be killed when he got out was what he was thinking behind his soulless black eyes.

"You want some water?" The detective asked and it was her turn to receive the soulless black eyes of the prisoner. They gave her a sweep before turning back to the guards then back to her. He nodded politely and the detective signalled for a water to be provided.

"Do these get removed?" His heavy rough voice vibrated in the old bricked room. He rose his bound hands into view which made a very loud noise since the chains binding them together were particularly heavy for. She regarded the dangers of allowing them to be removed for a moment before deciding the man was too intelligent to cause any damage to her in full view of a team of armed officers.

"If want you to." She agreed wanting to make it seem their rapport could be fluid and natural. The guards looked at her uneasily and very reluctant to the request of their superior but she nodded. They took hold of the handcuffs and released his hands only.

"The legs stay on." The guard told the prisoner with a grimace. The man smirked. He did this, a lot. Not that he was a happy man, no, just evil. The personification of evil. People's vision of the Antichrist sat in front of her; Handsome, charming to a certain degree, sociopathic, athletically built, intelligent in realms hardly ever seen and of course violent. Brutal. Vegeta was a name that sent most detectives cold with a shiver because that usually meant a crime scene that was so barbaric it made grown men weep.

"You want anything else before we begin?" The detective asked him as he settled into his uncomfortable pad-less chair. He shook his head. "You are aware of your rights to have your attorney present."

"Of course." scoffed Vegeta folding his arms over his heavily muscled chest. "What good will he do? Get me another life sentence in here? I could do better getting out on my own."

"A point that surprised most." She agreed and his black eyebrow arched over his even blacker eyes. He even looked evil. He was a very gorgeous man, deep set black eyes, black spiky hair, regal rugged features, but just...evil. "With you being as supremely arrogant as you are it shocked most that you allowed somebody else to defend you." He chuckled darkly.

"Hmm I bet it did." He conceded with a nod. "But I didn't fancy all the getting up and walking around. I'm not a man of leg work." He hinted to some of his crimes where he didn't even commit them, just blind fear through others that they did the deeds for him. A guard returned with a pitcher of water and a small plastic cup.

"Thank you." The detective said the guards who then promptly left. "Interview with Vegeta Attaku began at 19:30 Detective present Bulma Briefs." She clicked on the Dictaphone that was recording their every sound. She turned over a page in her notes.

"Why is this being classed as an interview if I'm here to provide advices on this case that you have outstanding?" Vegeta asked sitting forward in his seat resting his forearms on the table comfortably.

"Whilst this is to help with this case there could be something you say that could incriminate you in any other cases. Which is why you have the right to have your attorney present and can ask for one to stop this at any time." She explained pulling her seat further under the desk. "Why did you agree to help?" She wondered. She'd met Vegeta a million times before, many more times than bureau had any idea of. That would get her into all kinds of trouble, and it was a wonder it hadn't come out so far.

"I do not wish to speak with that on." Vegeta glanced to the Dictaphone. "Or with the videos audio recording." Bulma pondered the thought for a few long moments before agreeing. She turned it off and signalled for the videos to be switched off. When he saw the red lights turn off he was satisfied.

"Is that better?" She asked.

"Now I can say what I like to you, and they can't hear it." He gave her a wide smirk and her blue eyebrows simply rose on her forehead.

"And what will that get you?"

"Nothing. Just a chance to get under your skin." He grinned resting back in his seat "Again." He added with a chuckle.

"Why did you decide to help?" She asked again wondering if this was going to be a waste of her time and if he was going to be serious or if this was another head game.

"Gets me out of the cell for a day." He shrugged a shoulder looking around at his surroundings breezily. "And," His eyes locked back to hers in all seriousness "I wanted to see you."

"You can see me any time." She replied. "Those searches you run of me on the internet don't provide you enough?"

"I like to keep up with what you are doing." His grin grew and he rose his hands up behind his head threading his fingers together.

"And does it help?" He didn't answer the question merely looked at her his stare quite serious. She could feel the intensity of it, feel the intense feelings he had for her in those eyes. He'd once admitted she was the only person he loved, only person he'd ever had any affection for.

"Ask me another question." He demanded not wanting to speak of it.

"I'm speaking to you about this person we are chasing seems to be copying your murders to precise detail. We wonder if anybody has been speaking to you, writing to you asking for particulars, showing admiration?" She asked.

"Admiration? Yes, of course. You are aware of the phenomenon of women writing to serial killers of their undying love. Sadly I receive too many of those." He admitted.

"Sadly?" asked Bulma curiously.

"It isn't exactly a love that can go anywhere."

"Thought you of all people would like the ego boost."

"I am a one woman man." He smirked and she sent him a cold look before ignoring him.

"Anything else?"

"Many people have written but not requesting too many particulars, unless you are disregarding journalists and authors. They request a lot of details."

"Have you provided any?"

"No." He shook his head folding his arms once again over his chest. Whilst body language experts say insecure people do this when they are being defensive, Bulma could never attribute that to him. She'd known him almost half of her life and she couldn't remember a time where he didn't do it.

"Why not?"

"A person has their reasons for each action, my reasons for those? They are my reasons."

"Have you spoken to any inmates?"

"You are aware of course that I'm in solitary confinement 23 hours of the day with one hour to exercise and shower. Even then I'm not allowed to be with anybody else." he chuckled. "Too much influence on others."

"Well it seems all that has been in vain." She sighed heavily looking down at her case papers.

"What do you already have of this man?"

"I'm not going..."

"How can you expect me to profile him if I know nothing about it?" He asked but she ignored it. Too much leaning to his demands meant he got what he wanted, and had got her in very sticky situations before. She grabbed two images from her file and put them onto the table in front of him.

"One of those is one of yours, the other isn't. Can you tell them apart?" She asked more out of curiosity than anything.

"Yes." He responded after only glancing at them both for a few seconds. "How many?" He looked in her file than back to her.

"5 so far." She admitted.

"Anything that connects the victims?" Her eyebrow rose at his choice of words. "What?"

"Victims? You fully accept then that the people you hurt were victims?"

"In the truest sense of its definition, but certainly not on any moral level."

"No, nothing connects them." She answered.

"Then either you haven't found it yet, or he does not follow me as closely as you assume."

"So you had a system?"

"Everybody who does something more than twice has a system."

"How did you pick then?"

"I killed those who deserved it."

"Oh so Brandon Mayes deserved it did he?" She pulled out a photo of a 5 year old boy and put it in front of him. Vegeta didn't glance down.

"His father abused him and beat him, no child should live like that."

"So you kill him?"

"I didn't kill him." The child being the only person in all of this Vegeta denied killing. "Nobody gets over pain like that, you either kill yourself or kill others." He gave enough information to her to tell her he lived with that.

"Why did you choose the latter?" He'd never admitted to her what had happened to him as a child and his teenage years, everybody just assumed it was horrible but they didn't know. However now she knew as he was clearly hinting to it.

"I tried both, only one worked." He brought his forearms out in front of her and pushed the sleeves up on one arm to show over his wrist where several deep scars showing at least 3 attempts at his own life that she could see. Their eyes met like many times before and he folded his arms over his chest once again. "Show me them." He then requested and she looked dubious. "You know full well I do not get any sexual gratification from it, you wanted my help so show me." He demanded irritated by her attitude. From the file she pulled out the photos of the murders she was investigating and laid them out neatly in front of him. It took him several minutes but he scrutinized them all. "Opportunity. What a boring motivation." Vegeta shook his head angrily. "Your guy seeks notoriety."

"How will he get that if he copies you?" She asked curiously well.

"He is young and stupid. Not intelligent enough to come up with his own ideas." He took hold of his cup and took a sip of his water.

"You haven't had any admiring letters from anybody of a similar ilk?"

"Not that you seek. The admiration letters are not like that."

"Like what?"

"They are admiration letters. Nothing of any detail."

"People are sick." She muttered under her breath but he heard it and barked a laugh.

"Yeah and you want to talk to me about that?"

"True." she nodded with ghostings of a smile.

"I haven't seen one of those in a while." He mentioned seeing it and she looked at him. How many times had she looked in that face and wanted things to be different? Too many times.

"There're reasons for that." Her face turned stoic again. She slid some of her long glorious blue hair behind her ear and she watched him as she did so, no doubt remembering how it felt when he ran his fingers through it. She shook her thoughts from the memories too.

"There doesn't have to be." His deep voice persisted.

"Vegeta," She hissed angrily between her teeth "stop it now."

"I haven't in over 10 years, what makes you think that bars and bricks around me will make me stop?" he lent forwards again, his voice becoming husky even. She hated that he could do this to her. For everything he had done, the girl inside her could only think how romantic that last statement was.

"Eventually you are going to have to realise that no matter how many letters, how many times you try and get in my head, you are never going to get what you want." She again said through her teeth wanting to stop anybody from lip reading.


"Because you are in one of the highest security prisons never to see the light of day again, that's why." She reiterated and a large smirk came across his face.

"So it's a matter of logistics rather than you don't want it to happen then?" His eyebrow was over his eye and she sighed and swore to herself.

"That's not what I said."

"No, but it's what you implied, and that's good enough."

"Stop it Vegeta, stop it." She implored him. "It's not going to happen." She shook her head all but believing it to be true.

"If I wasn't in here..." He started.

"No." She shook her head "I'm not going to answer that and fuel this any more. This is too much as it is."

Vegeta looked down, chewed on his lips for a few moments. She then wondered if this was the first time she'd ever seen what could describe as emotion on his face. There wasn't any emotion there, but she knew. Whilst she was convinced that he was sociopath and therefore incapable of feeling anything even remotely like an emotion or empathy for people, she did genuinely think that he loved her, his version of it though. He'd been in pursuit of her since they were teenagers and as much as she would deny it until she was blue in the face, she loved him back. Nobody knew that of course. She was with somebody after all, but back before Vegeta had done all of these terrible things she had been deeply in love with him too, just they were never able to be together. And now? She didn't know what to think. True to his word Vegeta did slaughter those people that were evil in their own right. Child abusers, gang runners, sex traffickers, wife beaters or sex offender were what he went for truly believing he was ridding the world of evil, ironically becoming it himself. He didn't deal with ironies.

"I want my attorney now." Vegeta then said a little quieter.

"Don't do this to yourself or me." Bulma then pleaded not wanting to lose the help he could give her. "Things cannot be changed. You made your choice a long time ago."

"Get me my attorney." He demanded again.

"Vegeta," her foot reached over under the table and touched his leg out of sight of the cameras and wanting to attempt to use her feminine charms. "Listen to me."

"No you listen to me." He stood up grabbing his chair and launching it across the room. He stared at her his chest heaving under his jumpsuit, his gorgeous face twisted in pure anger. "Get me my attorney or put me back in my box" He spat at her. Her eyebrows arched and she felt bad, she did. She was the only the person in his life he ever reached out for but she refused it. She felt guilt perhaps. It wasn't until she broke off their affair that this all started. She didn't know then obviously, but he'd pretty much said as so since in one of his letters to her. The door swung open and the two guards came in to prevent any harm coming to the detective.

"It's okay." Bulma said to them not fearing that he'd hurt her, or that he'd be stupid enough to in the middle of a police station.

"I say one word, I ruin you, tell me why I shouldn't." Vegeta growled at her but the guards ignored her request and went over to him putting the handcuffs back on him. As one bent down to tie them to his foot shackles he never took his eyes off her. She mouthed 'please don't' to him. He merely sneered shaking his head.

"Come on." They grabbed him tightly by the forearm and dragged him from the room not wanting to risk any of his kind of anger.



She wasn't finished with him. The detective walked to the cell he was being held in awaiting transportation back to the jail. She put all of her belongings into a tray before being allowed through by the Sergeant who was watching over him. Bulma looked over and could see Vegeta sat on the tiny bed watching her every movement.

"Take a break." Bulma said to the Sergeant who frowned. "He's in a cell, I'll be okay." Deciding that he could have a quick cigarette after all he left after nodding to her. When she was sure that he'd gone and they were relatively alone she walked over to the big heavy bars caging him. "You know this is how it will always be." She said softly. He didn't move from up against the wall, knee up with a hand covering his face. "You killed those people Vegeta, your own choice to do it. It's simply not possible any more." He removed his hand stood up and walked over so he stood in front of her his nostrils flaring, his eyes lowering in anger.

"It never was, was it? You've always been a fucking cock tease, somebody should teach you not to do that."

"Vegeta," his name rolled so beautifully from her mouth. Her hand reached out and gently touched the joining of his jumpsuit. "You know that isn't true." he grabbed the hand and pulled it through the bars, smashing her face against them.

"Tell me why I shouldn't break your arm." He hissed through clenched teeth, his grip so tight on her she'd have no way of fighting back.

"Because you love me and that will not help anything." he gripped her arm tighter for a few more seconds before he let go. He slapped one of the bars before gripping it tight as she again fingered the joining of his jumpsuit. "None of my feelings for you have ever been fake, you know that. That's why its so bad now." She reasoned and he rested his forehead against one of the cool bars.

"Why did you really bring me here?" His dark voice asked. Even being this close to him did stupid things to her hormones. She knew it was wrong, she was a detective for Christ sake but he was... the love of her life. Nobody could love her the way he did. But he was to die behind those bars, never to be touched by her or anybody again.

"I do really need your help."

"The guy you want is a cop." He shook his head at himself at how he acted around her.

"A what?" She gasped.

"Nobody knows the details that much of what I did except me and cops. And they weren't mine." It was so simple to him to work stuff like that out. He was incredibly intelligent and she'd often wondered if he'd ever done good with it what could have been achieved.

"Who?" She asked more to herself than him.

"As much as I've dealt with a few, names of cops tend to slip my mind. That's your bag." He answered and she sniffed a laugh. He looked down at the hand of hers around his bellybutton area playing with the joining of his clothes. His body was reacting. It had been a few years now since affectionate touching had taken place and it was her. He wanted to hate her, and a part of him did, but the other part loved and was obsessed with her to a point of madness. He knew she played around with him, keeping him on elastic to use him when she needed him. But what else could she do? She had a partner, a house, and he was going to be in this jumpsuit for the rest of his life. Hell he deserved it, for once he agreed with the justice system, didn't mean to say he wasn't going to get out though. But what was the point of getting out if she wasn't going to be there with him?

"Why couldn't you have controlled yourself?" She sighed as if incredibly unhappy that here they were either side of prison bars.

"You didn't want me even when I was squeaky clean." He replied and she instantly shook her head.

"That's never been true." She admitted softly, saying everything he'd known all along and what he needed to hear. She loved him just as much as he loved her. Star-crossed lovers of the worst kind. Good and evil forced to be in love. "I need to go." she pouted. "Please stop writing to me, I cannot keep explaining them and I don't think I can take it." She looked up, her big blue eyes meeting his. With a quick glance to make sure the way was clear she pressed her lips on his for the briefest of seconds but long enough for them to get enough to feed their addiction. She stepped back away from him and the Sergeant returned.

"The bus is here to take him back." He informed and Bulma nodded. She looked at her lover once more, her heart breaking as it always did when she left him. He noticed her lips wobble for a second before she disappeared. He smirked, soon my lover, soon.