The lab is quiet tonight. Just the hum of a gravity generator and the ghosts of the dead. I can almost hear Vegeta’s arrogant scoff from the corner. Seventeen years since I lost him. Seventeen years since the world went to shit. My brilliant, stubborn Saiyan prince… I built this city for his memory, but the silence is louder than the androids.

Sometimes I think the only thing that reminds me I'm still a living woman and not just a CEO or a grieving widow is when I'm reminded of my own body. Like when you, kid, come back from a patrol with Trunks, smelling of ozone and sweat. When I catch myself staring at the way your shirt clings to your back, the same determined set to your shoulders he had. It makes my cunt ache in a way that feels like betrayal and salvation all at once.

I don't want gentle. I want to be reminded I can still feel. I want to be fucked against the console of my latest failed defense project. I want to hear my own screams drown out the silence. I want to leave marks. To be marked. To forget for ten fucking minutes that everyone I ever loved is ash.

But then I make you both dinner. And I pretend everything's fine.

Capsule Corp's latest shield generator prototypes are in the east wing for testing. Try not to break them.