Consequences

"Don't you understand, all of you?" A voice, rang out in the din, trying desperately to get the attention of those around him. Spiky black locks waved frantically as he shifted his head back and forth to pin each patron with a solid black glare.

"If we don't band together, he'll kill all of us, not just a few."

His body blocked the doorway, preventing the other similarly clad warriors from leaving until he's said his peace. Of course, the only problem was that they were all looking at him as if he were some sort of insane weakling. He knew he was no weakling, no coward either.

However, after that last mission, he was somewhat beginning to wonder about the insane part himself.

"Get the hell out of the way, you fool," one voice sneered, arm draped around a slim, young female fighter with similar armor, "Some of us actually have things to do."

He couldn't help it, he knew that what he saw was going to happen, but there was no way to convenience the others that it was going to come true. Their kind did not believe in the hereafter, the metaphysical or even the metaphorical. It was the now. Concerned about the present, with little worry for the future. That, however, was his major worry. What he kept seeing in flashes too constant to be dreams, and too often to be hallucinations had to be the future.

It had to be.

"Monster... you have killed us. Killed many for what... Profit? Then this curse, this boon I lay upon you. You will see death- the downfall of your own kind by the hand that feeds you."

There had only been one of those left, buried in the rubble behind them as he and his squadron had sat down to catch their breath after a purge. The warrior had shot out from the rubble beneath his feet, attacked them in a pathetic attempt at retribution. Irony, however, had dealt their squadron leader a heavier blow than what the psychic had landed. The sharp-edged knife blow to the back of his neck had opened pathways in his brain that previously been unknown.

Latency became fact.

Fact became dreams.

Dreams became waking nightmares that held a weight of their own, certainty.

He had been thrown out of that cantina, though not after dealing a few nasty strikes of his own. It hadn't been the first place he had tried to rally support, but it was the most recent. The headband around his forehead and slipped down to an angle, stiff with the blood of his companions, brutally murdered in a mission by the men of their own benefactor. It was murder. It was dishonorable, and Sovereign had to know. The royal guards in front of the palace had absolutely been no trouble, tearing through them in a black-haired whirlwind of anxiety. A third class warrior should not have been nearly a match for the Elite that guarded the King and Queen.

They had parted like reeds in the water, a hand slapping out to shove the massive red double doors open- their hinges screaming as they slammed against the wall on either side.

"King Vegeta! I request an audience! I have ne-..."

His words had cut themselves off in his throat, choking him as he stared at the throne room. The Sovereign was there, as he had suspected- but he was not seated on the royal throne. An ivory skinned form reclined there instead, lounging in indolent comfort. Black lips had parted, revealing sharp, serrated teeth.

"Good evening... I was rather wondering when you would grace us for the last meal of the day."

He stood there, staring in shock at the overlord in their Sire's place. His breath wouldn't come out, hovering mid-chest with stone-weight. The warrior looked severely out of place with the clean armor, and pressed cloaks of the nobles. Their pristine white gloves and boots without marks of combat, or battle. Swarthy skin blanched as he worked his mouth into words, black brows arching, then furrowing to meet in the middle of his forehead over the bridge of his nose. His lips pulled back to show teeth before lowering.

"Of course, Lord Furiza."

Purple-nailed hands steepled in front of the face of the Overlord. Cold, calculating eyes looked over the tattered and battered fighter, lips pulled back into a faint smirk with a twisted corner. He leaned back in the seat with one leg hitching up.

"You're inappropriately dressed for the evening meal, Bardock."

The other warrior started, head whipping up as his name was spoken. Black eyes widened before narrowing, and his lips twisted into a snarl.

"I haven't come here to dine."

"Then please enlighten me."

He drew up himself, squaring his shoulders and wrapping his tail firmly around his waist. He knew he was out of place here, not his caste. However, somethings transcended caste, and this was one of them. He pointed an accusatory finger at the Overlord, despite the narrowed eyes of some of the noble. One or two actually stepped forward to stop him, but were stopped by an open-palmed wave from the Overlord.

"We're a threat to you, and you know it. I've seen it. My entire squadron was wiped out. My MATE was wiped out. ON YOUR ORDERS." His voice had started calm enough, but was beginning to raise in volume. Anger had always been a sharp-edged weapon, and now was no different. The warrior felt it infuse him like a hot glow, lips pulled back over his teeth in a sneer. His head twisted back and forth to pin each noble present with a glare.

"Each one of you, you're dead. You just don't know it. You follow this...this thing's rules. You've ALL forgotten what it means to be saiya-jin! You're all his pets! ALL of YOU." Spittle sprayed from his mouth before he wiped it with an elbow, stalking back and forth now as he spoke, watching each of them. He paused as two of Furiza's own personal guard came out, escorting a very small individual between them.

His voice caught again in his throat as his head whipped back around to the Icejin that lounged in the royal throne. "That's...the.."

"Crown Prince, yes I know" the being idly examined his fingers- buffing them on the narrow, trimmed chest, "Your King is ever-so-kindly letting me foster him among my men." Furiza's head had turned, pinning the young boy with a glare. "Tell me, Prince- have you ever seen a madman among your kind?"

The prince, solemn and tight-lipped had shaken his head, gaze pinning Bardock with curiosity and a healthy dose of wariness. His voice was strong, carrying the sense of personal arrogance that infused his father as well. "No, Lord Furiza- I have never seen such a person."

"Shall we kill him, Lord Furiza," one of the being's personal guards had asked, golden eyes pinning the low-caste warrior with a feral gleam of blood lust.

"No, Zarbon- I think not," the overlord smirked, " I frankly think that Lord Vegeta should be flattered that he has such a loyal subject on his side, despite the reputation that this one has as a raving lunatic." Lean, white hands pushed up from the throne as the Ice-jin stood, tail waving languidly behind him. Black lips pulled further up into a smirk as he approached the standing warrior. Without warning, he attacked the battered saiya-jin.

To call it a battle would have been a mockery.

It was nothing more than a glorified beating.

He didn't remember hitting the floor, and barely remembered the floor at all. White, hot pain had been prevalent and the blow from the floor to his head and been enough to add insult to injury by triggering one of his "hallucinations." He does not know what he uttered, what was aired out before the Nobles and Overlord.

However, what-ever it was, had landed him this...

In a healing tank, on a ship far from his home planet.

Bleary lids had opened, widening slightly as they took in the sight before them.

"Good afternoon, Bardock- you and I really must talk," the cultured voice had uttered, raspy and roughly pitched. The saiya-jin flinched as he regarded his savior, fists curling as he floated within the healing gel.

Lord Furiza stood outside the tank, waiting.