| Communication Breakdown Chapter 16 |
| Author: Valeyard Rating: R Disclaimer: She doesn't own, so don't even bother. |
| Time dissipated, surrounding him in opaque shadow, shielding so many unknowns. The shadows, shattered like icicles, cutting him, as each fragment of time turned into sad children, falling slowly away. He shook his head despondently as he watched the children fall, forsaking him, one by one. Each called out his name as they disappeared into the clouds that would never let him see. The clouds that separated him from the one child, he could still hear screaming in his mind. He shook with helplessness as he tried to call out to them, to ask them what they saw as they fell. Somehow, he couldn't remember their names. He wondered why they would desert him, and why the child he could never see, always sounded so angry. Why did he sound so alone? He turned away from the pain, to plunge himself in the shelter of her body. A tear fell from his eye as he took in her smell. She always smelled warm and musky. He breathed her scent in appreciation. He always loved that about her. It was comforting to him. She had a mammal smell that stirred yearnings in him, he couldn't understand. It pulled at the child still screaming in his mind. The child that called for blood. He scrunched his eyes, putting his hands to his head. He wouldn't listen! He wasn't like that, he told himself. He couldn't be like that! It didn't matter than he killed his grandfather in a transformed murderous rage. It didn't matter he had trampled hundreds of innocent spectators in his first Budokai. He wasn't a killer! He clenched his fists in agony, pounding them against the enemy in his head. Screaming against the pull of his own Saiya-jin nature. It didn't matter how much that child called for blood, or his Saiya-jin blood took up the call. He wasn't a killer, he told himself. He simply couldn't be! He started to cry, returning to the gentler part of his mind. The part of his mind that came when he thought of her. He didn't know if it was the Saiya-jin in him, or the human in her. He just knew he never had a mother. She was a shelter of flesh and warmth, against the abandonment of his own destiny. A destiny which made him need her, physically, mentally, spiritually. He didn't mind how much she nagged, or screamed at him. She cared for him and somehow understood, no matter how much he fought against it. Deep inside, she knew, he was a monster. She even called him that, yet still took him to her bed. Sometimes, in the night when no one saw, he cried holding her, knowing she didn't know it was the monster that cried within him. It didn't matter. He knew, and she was the shelter that allowed the monster to mourn. He looked away from her for a moment. The children were all gone, leaving one still, small child behind. The child screaming in his abandonment. The small, angry child inside him that needed her to ensure that child never grew. Never became stronger. He could not let that happen, and he knew why that made her the best part of him. That same child now heaved under the pain he couldn't understand, as he grabbed the hand at his throat. He struggled in his delirium trying to understand. "Why are you hitting me, Chi Chi? Please stop. It hurts!" He called out to her in his helplessness and agony. There were no answers, only silence, and pain. He struggled to understand how Chi Chi could be strong enough to hurt him. She was never strong enough before! "Chi Chi?" He called again, looking for her reassurance. He forced his eyes open, blinking at the harsh sunlight of the desert. The only face that met him grinned maniacally as a hand clamped grimly around his throat. Goku blinked trying to make sense of his pain and abandonment. Why was he being abandoned, again? "Where's Chi Chi?" He blinked innocently at his tormenter, and wondered why the only answer was laughter, mocking his pain. He tried to turn again. To fall like the lost children into a comforting fantasy of clouds, of human warmth, and of Chi Chi. The hand at his throat refused to relinquish control as it clamped down harder and Goku forced out another, strangled scream. Time slows when you are dying. This understanding came to him, in fractions of time remaining to his existence. Vertigo came and surrounded him as floating shards of time. Time flowed around him in angles revealing eddies and current, whipping through his hair and clothes to the sound of an unforgiving wind sheer. The scientist in him wished he had more of this time. Time to study this relationship between time and death. It would have made for an interesting study. The father in him, however, couldn't tear away from his desertion and loss. That part of him embraced death and its release with every fiber of his falling weight. <musical interlude> Weathered by Creed I lie awake on a long, dark night I can't seem to take my mind Slings and arrows are killing me inside Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine No, I can't accept the life that's mine Simple living is my desperate cry Been trading love with indifference yeah it suits me just fine I try to hold on but I'm calloused to the bone Maybe that's why I feel so alone Maybe that's why I feel so alone Me . . . I'm rusted and weathered Barley holding together I'm covered with skin that peels and it just won't heal The sun shines and I can't avoid the light I think I'm holding onto this life too tight Ashes to ashes and dust to dust Sometimes I feel like giving up Sometimes I feel like giving up Me . . . I'm rusted and weathered Barely holding together I'm covered with skin that peels and it just won't heal The day reminds me of you The night hides your truth The earth is a voice Speaking to you Take all this pride And leave it behind Because one day it ends One day we die Believe what you will That is your right But I choose to win So, I choose to fight To fight! Me . . .I'm rusted and weathered Barely holding together I'm covered with skin that peels and it just won't heal <end music interlude> Time, he had once believed, was his only friend. Time, like all things, was created to serve him, and only him. It was, in time, that he would be strong enough to destroy Furiza. It was, in time, that he would rule the entire universe. It was, in time, all would suffer or fall at his feet in worship of him. It was, in time, that he would command something he had never possessed in his entire life-their love. No longer, would only hate and death surround him. From Time, he would extract his victory. From death, he would crush the universe under his new life. From chaos, he would bring order and hope. From hate, he would command their love. 'Yes!' He had told himself, time and time again, in all his hate and bitterness. 'I will have love.' Memorials of pain floated through his being as his darkness came once again, tormenting him, with feelings of destinies unfulfilled. 'I will not ask it. I will command it.' He forced back bitter tears by force of will. The bitter tears that he couldn't keep, even from the blackest part of his mind. The tears that punished him in the knowledge he still could hold such weakness. 'All who hate and fear me. I will turn your hate to love!' He screamed out in the blackest night of his mind 'You have no choice. You will love me, or die.' A single tear, he couldn't control, finally forced its way from his eye. Feeling the tear, he gave into the bitter ironies of time. He was hated by all, abandoned by all. The only thing, which stood by him, was time. Only now he understood the cruelty of it all. Time did not stand by as his friend, but only to mock him and remind him, that he, Vegeta-sama, had no friends. For in time, Furiza was dead by another's hand. In time, he learned he was not destined to become the first Super Saiya-jin in 1,000 years. In time, he learned, his son, would be dead. His son, his only son, dead by the hand, that at that moment, had him by the throat. His son, dead by the hand of someone on which Vegeta would be avenged. Vegeta swore that with every heaving breath. His whole being labored under that conviction as his body twisted with iron muscle to free himself. Yet, he as he made another vow to himself, he knew time, was the most false of friends. In fact, time, he now knew, was his most bitter enemy. Time ran in delicate silver lines. Each line spreading like a plague of cold fire. Each line running away from him with its own private irony. Each line resonating with conflicting permutations, spreading into an eternity without answers. Following the lines back to their source, they all intersected, blurring inside the womb of a young mother. A young mother struggling to understand her part in destiny, never knowing, she was the mother of many eternities. Each person bound in his time, now wrestled with that same destiny, little understanding the part they also played. Trunks labored under this same burden as the adult and child of all these destinies. His destiny raced ahead of him streaking across the pale blue skies that belied his inner turmoil. He was a shining light made up of flesh, sorrow, strength, honor, golden Saiya-jin fury, but most of all, hope. His hope was predicated on his Earthly legacy - a legacy embodied in the gentle, reassuring form of his mother. Trunks desperately needed to find her, the mother of his eternity. His desperation spurred him to greater speeds. His form burned across the sky with all the intensity in his mind. The very molecules of the air burned in the reflection of his despair. He felt the kis of Goku and his father, each in their own separate battles. Each ki becoming rapidly lower. Goku's ki, especially so. 'Who should I help?' Trunks desperately tried to come to some solution that satisfied his need of strength and honor. He wanted to find his mother, but he also knew he could not let Goku or his father die - especially his father. Even if his father hated him, he would not let him die. He punched his fist into his other hand with the pain his tormented thoughts invoked. He didn't know why it was important his father approve of him. Knowing his father only through his mother's stories, Trunks had hoped his father would, at least, accept him. His father's rejection seemed the final cut in a long list of tragedies. From the loss of his master, Gohan, to his failure to defeat the androids, tragedy was all Trunks had ever known. Trunks shook his head, racked in the torture of his inner debate. His indecision only spurred him on as he followed the fragile thread of his own ki, sensed in his mother's body. It was the clarion call of his own existence and he would not resist its finality. He must follow it or die, and his mother with him. Trunks' heart leapt with joy as he saw something rise over the island where the androids appeared and sensed it was his mother alive, but struggling in the arms of Piccolo. "What are you doing?" He demanded, when he caught up with them. Piccolo turned toward Trunks and Trunks could read fear in his face, but his mother was far more animated. "Help him! Help him!" Bulma screamed pointing into the crater of the volcano. Trunks felt for ki inside the crater. He could feel multiple kis including his father but not coming from his father. He floated above the crater transfixed, confusion written all over his face, as he looked to his mother for direction. "Help who?" Trunks screamed in desperation. "Your father!" Bulma screamed as Piccolo moved to take her away. "He can't take that thing on alone!" 'How the fuck did she know?' Trunks thought numbly as he turned to look at Piccolo for explanation. "I'm taking her out of here and then I'm returning to help, Son. He's in trouble, I can feel his ki weakening!" Piccolo screamed over his shoulder. "Do what you can!" Piccolo screamed desperately, and shot away with Trunks' mother in his arms without another word. Trunks unsheathed his sword and shot into the volcano without another thought. What assaulted his vision as he plunged into its depths was the tiny figure of his battered father, struggling with some hideous monstrosity twice his size. With one hand, Vegeta was trying to pry the monstrous hand that had him round the throat. With the other hand, Vegeta was holding a whip like tail that narrowed into an extremely, vicious, looking spike. Time whipped around him and through him. He felt his fate enlarge in his mind, in time with the fleeting seconds of his life. Vertigo displaced itself in and around him, in the swirling columns of air he felt all around him. The wind rushed upward, as Dr. Briefs, felt himself suddenly yanked up into the sky. He smiled. 'There was no pain.' Dr. Briefs thought in wonder as he felt the smiling sun beam down on his face and the columns of air comfortingly under him. 'I didn't feel a thing.' Dr. Briefs spread his arms, feeling himself rise on the thermal currents. He embraced his release, feeling his soul rising as a song. Clear as light, transparent as water, and sad as wisdom, the song fell away like tears. He gave up his sorrow for the new life without end that lay before him. Dr. Briefs opened his eyes ready to embrace eternity, but the green face that met him caused him to scream. "I thought I was going to the other place!" "You are an old fool!" Piccolo replied sternly, as he carried Dr. Briefs in one arm and Bulma in the other. The memory of the act he saw committed by Piccolo returned to him and Dr. Briefs screamed in rage. "You monster, you murderer! I'll kill you for what you did to my baby. My Bulma!" "Stop it! You, old fool!" Piccolo grimaced as Dr. Briefs glanced blows off Piccolo's head and shoulders harmlessly. "Do you want me to drop you?" "I don't care if you what you do." Dr. Briefs screamed in his grief. "I have no reason to live anyway." "Daddy!" Bulma looked at her father as if surprised by his behavior. "Bulma?" Dr. Briefs looked at his daughter in disbelief. "You're alive. That monster didn't kill you?" "Of course, she's alive! You, old fool!" Piccolo interrupted, annoyance crawling very clearly into his voice. "You think I would bother carrying you both around otherwise?" Dr. Briefs blinked in confusion at he looked between his daughter and the monster he thought was her murderer. "I don't understand." "I'll explain, later, Daddy." Bulma turned serious. "Piccolo set us down. I can walk. You have to go back and help Vegeta!" A tear came to Dr. Briefs' eye as he cried in joy. "Vegeta is alive! I didn't kill him!" "First time anyone rejoiced over that." Piccolo said under his breath, shaking his head in disgust. Piccolo headed down setting them next to their vehicle. "I hope it runs because I can't help you from here." "Don't worry." Dr. Briefs said becoming more business like, pulling out the cell phone from the damaged vehicle. "I can call for help." Piccolo turned suddenly as if a shock ran through him. "Son is dying!" He screamed, then shot up into the sky without another word. "Son?" Dr. Briefs turned toward Bulma for direction. "Does he mean Goku?" "I don't know what is happening, Dad." Bulma replied frankly. "But it's bad. It's real bad. Vegeta is in battle and there is this monster that says my son is dead!" Bulma faltered and started to cry. She grabbed her father and hugged him. "Piccolo is right, you are an old fool." She squeezed him tighter, telling him she didn't mean it. Dr. Briefs shook his head. "Tell me on the way home." He said as he pulled her toward the wrecked vehicle. Bulma pushed him away. "I can't go home, Dad. My son is dead. Vegeta may be dead for all I know. Piccolo says Goku is dying. They need my help!" "Be serious!" Dr. Briefs yelled in exasperation. "You are pregnant and have been in enough danger already. First poisoned and I don't know what that Piccolo did to you. Now you think you are going back to danger! Not in your condition, young lady!" "I am serious dad!" Bulma screamed back. "I am well over the poisoning and I don't know what Piccolo did, but I feel fine. In fact, I feel stronger now than this morning." Bulma flexed an arm showing her renewed strength. "Piccolo said it was some kind of trance Nameks use. To them it's some kind of renewing experience. He's right. I'm fine Dad. In fact, I feel wonderful!" Bulma ran into the vehicle, retrieving a briefcase full of capsules, throwing one on the ground after pressing the button. A mid-size two-seater appeared after the explosion and Bulma jumped in the open cab. "Don't do anything else so foolish, please Dad. I love you. I will be home. But my husband, my son, and my best friend are in danger. I have to go and do whatever I can. I can't stay at home. It just isn't me." Bulma tossed the briefcase down to her father as the two-seater rose. "I'm sure there is something you can use in there to get home, so you don't have to call. Love you, Dad. Bye!" "Bulma!" Dr. Briefs screamed. "Don't you dare leave me out here alone, again. You come back, right now!" Dr. Briefs watched in stunned disbelief as Bulma flew off without heeding his words. "Oh!" He stamped his foot angrily. "No respect for her father. No manners! So headstrong! I should have listened to her mother and put her in that finishing school!" Dr. Briefs shook his head at the ever-changing turn of events. With no other recourse, he picked through the briefcase for something suitable in which to return home. "Tousan!" Trunks screamed. He flew to his father's aid, heedless of the heat from the volcano, or the even worse heat of his father's scorn. Vegeta turned, surprise clearly written on his face, at the sound of the Saiya-jin title for father. This one slip, was all the monstrosity needed. As Vegeta relaxed his grip, the monster drove his spike home, burying it in Vegeta's back. Vegeta screamed, arching his back. The spike tore him before embedding itself deeply. Vegeta turned toward Trunks. Vegeta's eyes were full of pain, but they were also full of anger. "Get the fuck back!" His father screamed in rage. "This mother fucker is mine!" Trunks rushed headlong into battle too full of his own bloodlust to hear his father's words. He hit the beast with all the force of his fury, connecting with the beast's head. The beast fell away dragging the spike out of Vegeta's back. The spike released pulling away flesh and blood as it came free. Vegeta screamed in agony. He turned to take Trunk's by the throat, instead of being glad for his son's help. Vegeta's expression was nothing short of naked fury. "I told you to get the fuck out of here! He's mine! Never become between me and my revenge!" "And my mother?" Trunks screamed in his face, undeterred. His father's eyes were black pools drowning in the enigma of his deep wrath. Yet, Trunks saw a hesitation there, a moment of doubt. It came through, no matter how his father tried to block it with rage. Vegeta's fixed those eyes squarely on Trunks. "Your mother is alive. Go to her." 'What do I see in your eyes, Father?' Trunks asked himself. 'Regret? Sadness? Fear?' Trunks watched his father's eyes widen for a second. 'Yes, you are afraid, aren't you, Father? But not afraid for yourself. I'm sure of that.' "Why are you afraid, Father?" Trunks watched his father blanche at the question, but he wouldn't answer. Vegeta released Trunks, turning away, as if the battle was the only thing on his mind. Yet, Trunks knew better. He saw something his father couldn't hide in his eyes, and it made Trunks afraid for him. Before Trunk could consider anything further, the coiling monstrosity suddenly appeared behind him, lashing out a clawed hand, pulling Trunks to him. Trunks screamed as the monster held him in a choke hold, the spike from his tail held dangerously close to his heart. "So!" The monster chuckled, as he eyed Trunks. "We meet, again?" "What?" Trunks said, struggling to look at the monster out of the corner of his eye. "Get away from him!" Vegeta screamed, rushing both of them, a rage close to insanity written all over his face. Trunks watched the mad onrush of his father's rage. 'Are you screaming at the monster or me, Father?' His father, tore the clawed arm from Trunks' throat. Grabbing Trunks by the throat, his father practically strangled him as they rose so quickly, Trunks barely saw the clawed hand that missed grabbing them both. "I told you to get the fuck out of here!" Vegeta hissed right into his son's face as Trunks closed his eyes to the pain. "Then kill me!" Trunks screamed back, as he watched the shock register in his father. "You said you would if I ever came back, so go ahead. But, I'm not leaving you to fight alone!" "You don't get it!" His father screamed, Trunks hearing the desperation in his voice. "You're already dead!" Trunks eyes were pools mirroring his father's soul. He stared at his father fighting to understand. "What are you saying?" His father released him turning his gaze upon the monster rapidly rising to attack them both. "Nothing! Now go! Leave me the fuck alone with the bastard that killed you!" Before Trunks could answer Vegeta disappeared and reappeared in front of the monster as they resumed their life and death struggle. Trunks watched in shock trying to comprehend the conundrum of his own existence and his relationship with his father. He finally understood what he saw in his father's eyes. 'Are you afraid for me, father?' Trunks thought, feeling a sorrow and anger well inside his heart. "I don't care what you say!" Trunks screamed as he rushed headlong back into the battle. "I'm not leaving you to fight alone!" Some say fate is a pebble cast into the waters of time. Cause and effect, time's eternal disciple, creates tiny eddies in the patterns of time. The eddies ripple, spreading outward into a dark undercurrent of premonition, warning and failure. Unforseen consequences clash, descending into dark yawning chasms, between angry clashing waves. Forsaken dreams, ride on every wave, as they madly rush on, to meet unyielding destiny. Thus, Trunks, became another pebble in the water, as he flew regardless of any warning into destiny, never knowing fate had chosen the other way. Trunks drew his sword, gritting his teeth in the abandonment and rage he felt. Having lost all but his mother before he was born, he swore with the beating anger in his heart, he would not lose them, again. Let his father love or hate him, it didn't matter to Trunks. He wouldn't lose his father's love or hate, while he had breath to draw his sword. Vegeta saw a flash to purple out of the corner of his eye as he fought between losing blood, and losing consciousness. He struggled against another attack by the monster's spiked tail, his fury seething at his son's defiance. Vegeta had already lost him once, and the fury of losing everything yet again, enraged him into a higher plane of power. 'For what am I,' he asked himself, 'without my legacy?' "You fucking brat!" Vegeta screamed as the monster twisted out of his grasp. Trunks flew past him, sword in hand, slashing at the beast, which the monster dodged by plummeting toward the lava below. Vegeta followed the monster's mad dash to the molten conflagration, screaming threats and derision over his shoulder at his disobedient son. "If this fucking beast doesn't kill you, I will!" Vegeta screamed plunging after the monster. "I won't let you fight alone!" Trunks roared in return, as he followed both of them to the lava below. "Do you think to kill yourself?" Vegeta screamed to the falling monster, too obsessed by battle to acknowledge Trunks. "I can't question your wisdom. To die in the lava will be more merciful that what awaits at my hands!" "You both are fools, and you will never defeat me!" The monster cried squaring himself just short of the brightly flowing lava. The monster raised his spread fingers to his eyes and screamed one word, "Taiyo-ken!" The result was immediate, as the searing brightness and heat burned into Vegeta and Trunks' eyes. Vegeta being the closest screamed in agony, while Trunks grunted and fought to wipe the burning pain out of his eyes. When Vegeta managed to pry his eyes open, tears of pain were flowing from his eyes. He ignored the pain, forcing to keep his eyes open as he raked the area for any sign of the monster. "Where is he?" Trunks cried looking wildly around. "Gone!" Vegeta screamed turning to Trunks, accusation clearly in his voice. "Your interference let him get away!" Vegeta spun round propelled by the fury of his robbed vengeance. The interior of the volcano likewise spun around him in equal derision as he searched with all his senses for his quarry, seen or unseen. The looming interior of the volcano descended into pits of lava, bathing everything in a hellishly red glow. The hellish glow reflected in Vegeta and Trunks eyes, as each floated, searching for their quarry. Each seethed with their own private anger and regrets. Vegeta turned toward Trunks. He was bathed in sweat and bleeding which only stoked the fires of fury, reflecting in the very hell around him. Vegeta's face was as hard as stone, and his eyes shimmered, looking demonic in the red glow. "You would do well never to interfere, again." Vegeta's voice was low but threatening. "And let you die, again?" Trunks screamed in his father's face. Vegeta clenched his fists at this, gritting his teeth as if Trunks' words injured him. "I would rather die, than . . . " Vegeta stopped suddenly as he looked to the top of the volcano. Shock registered in his expression as he struggled in recognition and disbelief. "Kakarotto's ki!" Vegeta gasped both at the disbelief of his words, and the pain from his injuries. "Kakarotto is dying!" Vegeta shot out of the volcano screaming his frustration. "No! No one kills him but me! That is my right! My destiny!" That fate might rob him, again, of his right of revenge, burned in Vegeta as he shot away from the volcano, a burning beacon of rage and desire. "Tousan!" Trunk watched his father leave calling after him to no avail. The volcano seethed below Trunks. The venting heat felt as if it would sear his frustration and abandonment into his very soul. Gritting his teeth, he shook his fists in rage. Trunks felt the blackness of his life well inside him as a single tear escaped his eye. "Damn you!" He shook his head as the blackness closed around him, as a comforting shroud. "I don't care if you do hate me." Trunks screamed after his father, stoked by his own secrets and sorrow. "I lost you once. I won't lose you, again!" Trunks looked down at his shaking fists. "This I swear, with every breath in my body." He scanned the horizon for signs of his father or remnants of his ki. Then he felt it also. His whole muscular body recoiled with the shock. 'Father was right! Goku is dying! No, he mustn't! All is lost if he dies!' This new desperation spurred Trunks into action as he shot into the sky with the ferocity of his entire failed past. Somehow, his father was right, Trunks told himself in despair. Somehow, he had causes all this to happen. 'Did my coming in time instead of helping things only cause things to be worse?' The hatred and rejection of his father only magnified the anger he felt toward himself. He let it serve him, as it fueled his fury and his power. The power of his desperation glowed all around him in a burst of speed, setting the very air on fire, as he burned across the sky. "I've failed everyone." He told himself. "I will not fail, again." Piccolo knew no sin was left unpunished. Time was too unrelenting and his soul too etched by conscience for another conclusion. 'But why must the son be punished for the sins of the father?' The thought hung in the air with all the dismay and sorrow of the last few hours. It was his father, after all, who had taken countless lives, not him. Why must he be tainted with their blood, before he was even born? Piccolo's past and destiny lay before him, but no answers were forthcoming, only remembrance and regret. 'In reality,' Piccolo thought with shock. 'I've never killed anyone, except Raditz and Goku. And that, was defending Earth. The realization brought no comfort. 'Why then, did I brand myself with my father's name?' 'In so doing,' Piccolo asked himself, 'have I bound myself to the same legacy?' He struggled with the questions for which there were no answers. He only knew time would always exact its remorseless toll, and his conscience would never let him forget. The sadness of that thought left Piccolo awash in its implied destiny. Piccolo had been born into that destiny and legacy, after all. Forsaken by his other self, and his father's death, Piccolo was born, hating the child that had killed his father. The child known as, Son Goku. He was born hating everyone for the very legacy over which he had no control. Destiny and legacy were a recurring theme in his life, forever forged by the irony of his existence. It was in irony that he paid the sins of the father--irony in the form of Son Goku. It was another man's legacy that had changed Piccolo, and not his own. In Goku's legacy, his son Gohan, Piccolo learned to love and begrudgingly respect Goku. It was for that irony, Piccolo paid the ultimate price, in saving the son of the boy, he once hated. Now, he knew he would not only pay for his father's sins, but his own as well, as he watched the boy he once hated, now a man, lying in torment. The torment doubled hearing the desperate cries of Gohan, pleading for someone to help his father. There Goku lay, his screams, dying down to pathetic cries while one of the artificial humans, Android 19, sucked the life out him. Android 19 maniacally smiled at his slow act of torture and murder. Piccolo gnashed his sharp canines in fury as he watched this cowardly act on the obviously ailing, Goku, and momentarily wondered, if Goku had his own sins to pay. "You pathetic fucks!" Piccolo screamed at the artificial humans, sickened by their lack of pity. "You want a real fight, come and get it. But there's no victory in this! He can't even fight back!" Android 20 smiled cruelly at this challenge. "Our goal has always been the death of Son Goku. He is paying for his crimes against the Red Ribbon Army. The end is all that matters, not the means." 'No escape from your destiny or mine, is there, Son?' Piccolo let that feeling sink deep into his being. 'So be it.' With that thought, Piccolo lunged at Android 20 fueled by his fury and despair. Android 20 only laughed as he shot a beam out of his eyes, hitting Piccolo's directly in the chest. Piccolo recoiled in pain, falling to the Earth, as he heard Gohan scream his name. Piccolo closed his eyes, hoping Android 20 would believe he was too injured to be of any more concern. The shame of resorting to such subterfuge burned into Piccolo, as another toll of his legacy. Piccolo had already fought both of them. He knew he could not do that and save Son Goku. He only had to wait until Android 20 wasn't paying attention. Then he would jump Android 19, and hopefully get Goku loose before Android 20 could stop him. It seemed his destiny to lose a part of himself to save others. Once it had been his life for Gohan. Now, it would be his pride to save Son Goku. Piccolo concentrated on every sound, waiting for the moment when he was sure he could make his move. As he was just about to unleash his fury, he heard a commotion and Gohan yell, "Vegeta!" "Vegeta!" Piccolo said, as he quickly sat up in shock. "Piccolo?" Gohan looked at Piccolo surprised and puzzled. Piccolo blushed, because he knew Gohan would be surprised he resorted to such a trick. "It would take more than that pathetic attack to hurt me." Piccolo assured him, trying to keep the slight blush from his cheek. Piccolo looked over with a sour expression at the unwelcome sight of Vegeta. He was sure now, Vegeta had not raped Bulma. There were other things Piccolo still harbored in his heart against Vegeta. Things, Piccolo would not soon forget. Vegeta stood over Goku, with an expression of grim victory on his face. Goku lay helpless before Vegeta, and Piccolo couldn't help noticing the cruel smile that lit up Vegeta's features as he stood over him. It was as if Goku already lay defeated at his at feet. It was more than Piccolo could stand, and more than his wisdom could overcome. "Quite fucking around, Vegeta!" Piccolo yelled at him in fury. "Either finish the job for the artificial humans, or let us drag him off!" "That is," Piccolo added with a deliberate twist of contempt in his voice, "if you think this is the best chance you will have against Goku." Vegeta turned his head, fixing Piccolo with a deadly stare. Vegeta narrowed his eyes, looking if possible, even more lethal. He slowly, held up his hand, open palm. A small ball of fire formed in his open palm, as Vegeta stared at Piccolo, letting all the portent and threat in this sift into Piccolo. Vegeta turned the hand down as the ball dissipated, but the danger never left his eyes. Without looking away from Piccolo he kicked Goku hard enough to send him flying. "Mother fucker." Piccolo said under his breath, letting his contempt for Vegeta be clearly seen in his expression. Piccolo caught Goku without difficulty, laying him gently on the ground. He sternly looked back at Vegeta in disgust. Android 19 had been kicked quite a distance away by Vegeta. That was obvious by the still red boot mark on his ugly, bulbous face. He sat up from the rubble his own grotesque body had made, blinking in disbelief at Vegeta. "It is my duty to defeat Kakarotto." Vegeta declared to Android 19, cruelly smirking. "You artificial humans have no part in this." Trunks landed by Piccolo looking around in bewilderment at all the chaos. "What's happening?" He cried in confusion, looking at his father in the distance. "Your guess is as good as mine." Piccolo said in disgust. "Here I was working up this pathetic act to rescue Goku, when Vegeta shows up." Harsh reality sunk into Piccolo's consciousness, second by agonizing second. He felt the bitter passage in his heart, as he watched Vegeta power up, leaving his power level far behind. For all the aspirations of his father, the legacy left to him, was to watch what he could never achieve. The ground caved beneath Vegeta's feet as his body arched. A hoarse scream tore from his throat breaking upon the impenetrable heavens. The impenetrable heavens answered, as the sun in all its golden fury broke through the unforgiving clouds, in shafts of light to greet its usurper. The clouds wheeled over head in derision as power shone on power, and golden fury, upon golden, seething fury. The hint of a smile played across Vegeta's features, hard as the edge of a knife, and every bit as deadly. Vegeta was that edge embodied. An edge that would soon be drenched in his opponent's blood. Vegeta's held every facet of that feral promise in his green, shimmering eyes. They flicked from side to side, surveying his opponents. For a fraction of second, Piccolo could have sworn those burning green eyes looked in his direction, warning Piccolo that someday he might be held to that same promise. Piccolo knew legacies were always unfolding, but seldom changed. Destiny always returned to its starting point. He was his father's son, and his destiny was as tied to that past, as his words were to the future. Bulma wasn't sure what she could do to help in any situation. She only knew she couldn't sit by while Vegeta and her friends went into danger. She cursed her legacy, the weakness of all humanity, because she could not fly, and her two-seater was no match for Saiya-jin speed. Feeling the unseasonably warm breezes blow through her hair, she flew over the ocean. She pushed the two-seater for all it was worth, heading for the only destination she could think to go-the island where she believed Vegeta was still in battle. The sea glistened with life as she approached the island, and the island beckoned with tranquility. The whole scene puzzled Bulma. It was far too quiet for a battle to have taken place, especially one involving Vegeta. She turned her head this way and that, as she flew over the island, wishing she had learned to sense for ki. She could see, feel, and hear nothing, but warm breezes, lapping ocean waves, and the too quiet scene of the city on the island. The tranquility all around her only mocked her inner turmoil. She had only come to barely understand Vegeta, and now they were separated again, by conditions she could not control. Not the least among these conditions was Vegeta's lust for battle and bloodshed. She thought, with a shudder, this might be the pattern of their relationship. A tear welled in her eye and she forced it away with a swipe of her hand, and her own inner determination. She was no damsel in distress, she told herself. Vegeta was going to learn she could handle herself. 'I've been in plenty of dangerous situations.' She told herself with a pride that bellied, another tear. 'There's nothing I can't handle.' It was then she found out she was wrong, totally and tragically wrong. Bulma knew she couldn't feel ki, but her intuition told her something wasn't right. It was quiet over the island, far too quiet. She flew over the volcano, and saw no signs of explosions or eruptions and knew just by the glance, Vegeta could no longer be there. 'Where has he gone?' Bulma thought looking across the island for any signs of life. Evolution was a cruel task master. Destiny was even crueller. All that was in him, all that he would ever be, had been conceived and programmed into his being, right down to finest DNA strands. His motivations were not of his own doing, and his determinations lay in the persons of two other artificial humans. His defeat and escape from two, which made up his being, angered something deep inside him-something he hoped was a soul. He knew he would never know until disintegration, whether or not he had an existence beyond his imperfect or perfect form. He certainly had no intention of ever being defeated, so he knew, he might never know. The anger from such mussing welled inside him, as his perfectly programmed mind strayed back to his recent retreat from the two he knew as Vegeta and Trunks. The knowledge he was not yet the strongest in the universe stung with all its implicit meaning. He was not yet perfect. He shook his fist at all creation. A creation procreated outside his, and his inventor's will. He looked upon them as they conducted their well-ordered lives. It disgusted him. Such imperfect beings allowed such peace and contentment, while he burned with goals engineered into his very being. They all had to pay for such inequalities. Only perfection would be allowed to live. All that didn't measure up to his need for perfection must be swept away. Swept away in the coming tide in which nothing but perfection would exist-and perfection would be him. He smiled cruelly surveying his intended victims. He felt such contempt for them. They were only the means to an end. 'With your energy combined into my being, I will be closer to my goal, and stronger against Vegeta.' "Rejoice, my children!" He screamed loud enough for the entire island to hear. "Your day of liberation from mediocrity comes today. You all have the honor of becoming part of me as I move toward the ultimate goal!" It was the last thing the closest ones heard that day. They were the fortunate ones. It happened so quickly, they hadn't time to contemplate their own demise. The less-fortunate saw it coming and realized, only too late, there was no escape. Any plane or boat attempting to leave was destroyed before it could get away. There was nothing to do but run and scream, which many did to no avail. Bulma landed her two-seater in the middle of the city on the island. She climbed out, hugging herself as if cold, but it was not from any sudden change of weather. Everything around her seemed seems a bizarre parody of normal, island life. Litter rolled down the trash strewn streets, with all the markings of a ghost town. 'What has happened here?' Bulma walked down the forsaken street, feeling premonitions of danger coming from her very soul. She jumped at the clattering sound she heard, and turned to see an overturned child's tricycle, wheel still turning as if just abandoned. As she walked up the street, her premonitions turned into a sickness. It wasn't trash she saw strewn across the streets. When she came closer, she realized what she took for trash, wasn't trash at all, but clothes. People's clothes were lying all over the place. The clothes were like bodies without form. They were lying in patterns like the people should still be in them. Bulma's sickness was deepening into pure revulsion. As she stared at the pattern of clothes lying all around her, she realized the clothes were positioned like people trying to get away. The scientist in her overrode her feelings of danger and revulsion and she moved closer to examine the clothing. It was all the same. Shirts, pants, skirts, shoes, even underwear, all laying as if people should still be inside them. She picked up a shirt and held it up to the sunlight. She dropped it in horror in what she discovered. The sunlight shone through a single hole in the shirt, flecks of blood ringed around the hole. She ran up the street to a discarded dress, and made the same discovery. There was a hole in the middle of the dress, ringed by flecks of blood. The conclusion was inescapable as Bulma dropped the dress in horror. These weren't just clothes. These were the remains of people. Something was taking the people, and only the clothes with small flecks of blood were left behind. 'You are a fool, Bulma.' She said looking around her and hugging herself as if that would protect her from a menace she couldn't see. 'You can't handle everything. You are in way over your head and you better get out while you can!' The slight movement she caught out of the corner of her eye, made her realize, when it came to getting out, it was too late--much, much too late. He has supped well. The pathetic beings that had screamed and fought against his search for perfection, didn't deserve to become part of him, but what they deserved had little to do with anything. He could feel their energy well inside him. The energy hardened on his features in a determined smile. He knew he had enough energy now to take on Vegeta. 'I'm not so sure about his son.' He let that sink into him, as he grimaced in anger. 'Perhaps, I will find this son and absorb him.' His smile at that thought, was pure evil. 'What a fitting revenge to take the energy of the son to use to kill the father.' He imagined the look on Vegeta's face as he let it slip that he had killed his son, again. 'Oh, the irony would be delicious!' Yes, it would be a fitting revenge, indeed, before he killed Vegeta. He lowered his head, closing his eyes in resignation. These were only fantasies until he reached his perfect form. He knew that, and that reality bit with all the pain and abandonment of his dreams of revenge. A sudden flash in his consciousness caused him to smile cruelly. 'So there is still, one person lurking around. Not for long. I will take your energy as well.' He moved so quickly, he seemed to cut through the very air, reappearing under a building easement, concealing him from view to the street below. He pitilessly smiled as he saw his new quarry, walking between the discarded remains of his recent victims. 'Little fool.' He thought. 'If you only knew how soon you will join them.' He appeared, in another flash of a second, behind her, grabbing her from behind, before she even had a chance to scream. He felt her uselessly struggle, as he grabbed her by the back of the throat and lifted her to him, wrapping an arm around her middle. When he was sure there was no chance of her getting away, he took a moment to enjoy her fear. This was the part of absorption he enjoyed, the most. With so many victims, at once, he didn't get the chance to enjoy the languorous pleasure of his prey's fear. He loved prolonging that experience when he could. It was so delightful it almost had a taste of its own. A taste that far acceded that of absorbing them. "Let me go!" She screamed. He chuckled. Why did they always say the same useless things? It was always, "let me go" or "don't hurt me." Such foolishness! As if it was going to make any difference in their fate. Their stupidity always made him feel they deserved their fate. "Why say such nonsense, when you have the honor of joining the greatest being in the universe?" He lifted her up higher as he positioned his tail for the final kill. The way she kicked and screamed. He found it most pleasant. It was with a shock he realized he found it too pleasant. There was something about her that was most pleasant in way he hadn't felt in a victim before. He turned her around as she shrieked with fear, arching her back, in a futile attempt to pull away. He looked her completely over, from the strange color of her hair, down to the very texture of her skin exposed by her torn clothing. Why did she seem strangely familiar? Then he felt something very odd. A Saiya-jin ki. He almost dropped her in shock. That was impossible! The computer that created him had no data about any female Saiya-jin. All data suggested no female Saiya-jin were surviving, so how could she have such a ki? He smiled evilly as the understanding came to his calculating brain. "Well!" He chuckled wickedly. "It would seem the Saiya-jin aren't very discriminating in their tastes." He shook her up and down like a rag doll as she continued to make that disagreeable shriek. "So you have become pregnant by one of the Saiya-jin. Who?" "Go fuck yourself!" She shrieked. He laughed at that, knowing it was a false attempt at bravery. "I do not fuck, I absorb." He said, moving his tail down from her neck, to her stomach. "And I will start with that ki you carry in your womb, if you continue to be so disrespectful to such perfection." That seemed to have the desired effect. She looked at the wicked point threatening her stomach and became very still. He smirked cruelly. "I see you understand the implications. Now, I will ask only one more time. Who is the father of his ki?" He saw a small drop of water fall from her eye. He never understood the significance of the water that came from their eyes while they uselessly struggled against him. He wished he had time to play with this one longer, until he could understand why fear caused this reaction. But he had two artificial humans to absorb and she was only a means to an end. She lowered her head as another drop of water fell from her eye. "Vegeta, " was the only word she said, but it was enough. A loud clear laugh erupted from his throat as he watched her shrink in fear. "So, that was you, the Saiya-jin carried in his arms, in the volcano. I heard the words he said to you. He feels very strongly for you, does he not? I may not absorb you right now, after all." He wrapped his tail around her throat lifting her up level with his eyes. He heard her, most pleasantly, gag for air. "It looks like you will be most useful to me." Bulma tried to put on a brave front, but it was no use. She had never been more terrified in her life, and she had known a lot of terror in her life. She hadn't seen the monstrosity Vegeta had fought in the volcano, too weak to open her eyes at the time. She knew she was face-to face with him now, and she had just betrayed the man she loved to him. 'Oh, Vegeta,' she thought in total defeat and dismay. 'How will you ever forgive me for not being stronger?' She thought of the bond they had when they were in contact with each other. Were they still connected now that they were apart? She didn't know if she could, and she wasn't sure she should even try. 'Vegeta.' She thought in her defeat. 'Vegeta, it's got me.' At first she thought it was her imagination. That fear and anguish had driven her to hear voices of comfort that weren't there. Then it became louder and she knew it wasn't her imagination. She had never imagined the recesses of Vegeta's mind could be so dark, but hearing him like this made her realize, as sullen as Vegeta appeared to everyone, he kept most of it back. His mind was shadows of sorrow, veiled in shrouds as black as midnight-as black as his hate. 'Woman?' It was more a vibration in her head, than a sound, but the surprise in the vibration, was quite clear. 'Vegeta.' She thought to him in despair. 'I know you will never forgive me. But that thing you fought. It's got me. Forgive me.' It was all she had time to think before her mind recoiled in pain. She felt something uglier and blacker than even Vegeta's mind break in on them. 'Well, isn't this interesting.' Bulma recoiled again at the painful sound of his laughter in her head. 'I'm not sure how, but I can hear both of you.' Bulma heard him audibly chuckle as the sounds of his ugly vibrations resonated, once again, in her head. 'Do you hear me, too, Vegeta?' The ugly voice intruded 'What the fuck is this? Get the fuck out of my head!' She knew this to be Vegeta, and she could feel his consternation and anger. 'I'm not sure how I hear both of you, or how you are able to communicate this far apart.' The ugly vibration continued. 'Is this a Saiya-jin thing? Maybe that is how I am able to overhear, because of the cells from you, Vegeta, incorporated into my body.' 'Wha? Cells from my body?' Vegeta sounded utterly dismayed by this revelation. 'What are you talking about?' 'I'm the creature you fought in the volcano, Vegeta.' The ugly voice continued. 'The creature that would have defeated you, if that bastard son of yours hadn't interfered. And I have the one you carried in your arms, and she is carrying your son. Your cells are in my body, so I guess you can call me, Cell.' Bulma waited for Vegeta to say something, but all she heard was silence. She closed her eyes trying to shut out the pain. Vegeta wasn't going to say anything. She wondered if he would let her die. She knew Vegeta loved her, but she also knew battle came before everything with him--and his pride came, even before that. 'Do you have something to say?' She heard Vegeta finally say and she wasn't sure who he was talking to, but she had the feeling she had nothing to say in the matter. 'Simply this.' She heard the monstrosity vibrate in her head. 'Come to me.' 'Go fuck yourself.' She heard Vegeta reply stonily. The monster she knew now as Cell laughed out loud. 'That's funny,' he said cruelly in her mind, 'that is exactly what she said before she betrayed you. Is there some significance to this?' 'That's not true!' Bulma screamed, her mind in despair. 'I didn't betray you, Vegeta. He said he would kill Trunks in the womb, if I didn't tell him who was the father! What could I do?' She searched her mind in vain for some reply from Vegeta. Some reassurance, that he didn't blame her, but there was no answer. It was worse than if he had made some cutting remark about her weakness. She knew he was disappointed in her, and he was not a forgiving man. She gave in to more tears, as she heard Cell laugh at her helplessness. 'So touching. She cries for you. I can feel her despair. And I can feel your turmoil Vegeta, even if she can't. Perhaps because I have your cells as well. Will you remain silent? I could just absorb her now and let you feel all of it while she and her bastard son become part of my evolving, perfect being.' 'If you want to fight me again, then come to me.' She heard Vegeta reply, then add with a twist of contempt. 'But you can hardly prove your perfection while hiding behind my woman.' 'Did you really think that was going to work?' She heard Cell laugh contemptuously. 'No you will come to me, now! On the island where we fought.' Before Bulma could react, he stuck the point of his tail into her neck. Bulma screamed, writhing against the stabbing agony in her neck. 'I know you feel that, Vegeta.' The monster Cell laughed. 'I made sure I made contact with no important veins. She is in no danger, for the moment. But if you are not here on this island, within the hour, I will absorb her and the child within her womb.' 'The power of another Saiya-jin within my being, should really boost my power.' Cell said contemptuously. 'I suggest you hurry, Vegeta.' "I wouldn't struggle so, my dear." Cell said out loud to her. "That point isn't cutting into any veins, but the more you struggle, the more damage you do. I would suggest you keep real still and hope your beloved, shows up." Cell laughed monstrously as Bulma hung in air with the point of Cell's tail in her throat. Tears now flowed freely from her eyes, as she tried to feel for Vegeta and wondered if he would come to help her. 'Don't come, Vegeta.' She screamed in her mind, trying to feel for any sign of him. 'Just forgive me.' There was no answer to her call. 'Vegeta?' She called out again, but heard no answer, as she gave herself wholly over to despair, hanging her head, and wondering if it had been better, were she already dead. |