PROLOGUE
So this is just an experiment. As my regular readers no, I've been having difficulty writing my YuGiOh story. Rather than not write along and just extend the amount of time I've been off the site, I decided to try another fandom rather close to my heart.
This is very short by my normal standards, the next chapter will be at least 4-5 times as long, don't worry. Just wanted to see reactions.
Hell. Lucifer's lair. The Underworld. It has a thousand different names, each one more distasteful than the last, but not one of these can mask it's true nature. The commonly used one, the Home for Infinite Losers, would make one think that this realm was just a collection of laughable rabble and wannabe villains through history who just never made the cut.
Such a notion could not have been more inaccurate. Of course, it was partially inhabited by a mass of individuals who led a life of debauchery and selfishness, but were never able to quite do any serious harm. They were consigned there merely because they never performed a single meritious act, ensuring they were kept out of Heaven, not because any of their actions were particularly vicious and distasteful.
But then, there were a selection of creatures in there even the Devil would fear. Beings that had defined the word evil from the day they were born until they were felled by whichever hero in an incident from which legend was later born. Individuals who knew not the meaning of mercy, compassion, or even of the concept that others existed other than themselves who's satisfaction was relevant to the cosmos.
Two such less than notable nefarious characters had taken some time to speak to each other over the years. As they spoke, they began to realize their lives, and ironically, their deaths, were intertwined in more ways than one.
They were the Saiyan, and the Namek.
The Saiyan was from a race that emphasized brutality over all things else. The Saiyan rule was death before surrender. One did not stop until one had crushed his enemy, or his enemy crushed him. And if the latter happened, then one pushed oneself to one's limit until one was ready to return to battle and reap revenge. The Saiyan brought raw, inspired strength to the table and little else. But that strength was enough in most cases.
The Namek was a different breed. His race was inherently quite peaceful, having fought their first major battle in eons just decades ago. Even though their planet was beautiful, it was lacking in visible natural resources, and not very large to begin with. However, few races were as resourceful and intelligent as the Namekians. Through the mere fact that their planet received 24 hours of sunlight, every day of the year, they constructed one of the most advanced and impressive civilizations from the ground up.
This particular Namekian had every ounce of that sheer cunning, but sprinkled on top was a dash of viciousness and sadism that would have made even an Arcosian blush. He was by no means weak, but compared to some of Hell's other residents his raw power was a little underwhelming. But in a battle of wits, few in the Underworld would try outsmarting him.
They first met almost thirty years prior to the time of telling. The Saiyan had just been through a highly undignified experience for a man of his stature. After being held down by his own brother while being killed by a green skinned freak, he had been locked away by a port-bellied idiot in a ridiculous purple suit and then dumped in what his jailers seemed content to remind him was the Home for Infinite Losers.
So imagine the Saiyan's chagrin when he saw that same green skinned freak leaning against a large rock, sipping from a glass that contained an unusual looking black liquid that even the Saiyan had no desire to find out more about.
He lost it there and then.
"You overgrown lizard! Looks like you did die of the wounds I inflicted on you after all but this is just the start of it for you, buddy! I was hurt on my way here and I'm going to make sure you're hurt a thousand times worse!"
The creature looked up and arced an eyebrow. He was just about to reply that he had no clue what the stranger was talking about, that if he desired to have a pleasent stay in Hell it would be best to keep to himself, and recommend a visit to the Beezlebub Barber Shop, when he suffered a gigantic punch to the gut.
Before he could react, the traumatized new arrival pivoted and caught him on the chin with a huge kick.
The Namekian landed in a crouch and cursed.
"Oh no you don't!" roared his opponent, as he began to stand. "I'm not going to give you any time to pull that Special Beam crap this time...!"
This time, his opponent was ready. He caught the punch in his right hand. It impacted like a burning brand, but he had trained, he was capable of handling this kind of warrior.
Then it hit him. "Special Beam..? Special Beam Cannon, you mean?"
"Of course, you'd know," snapped the Saiyan. "Considering you just pulled the cheapest of cheap maneveurs by having my godforsaken brother hold me down while you took your time to charge it up-..."
He was cut off by a crisp uppercut to the mouth, flooring him.
"Silence," uttered the green warrior. "The Special Beam Cannon was a technique I never mastered. The only other individual in the living cosmos with knowledge of it was my son, a Namekian living on Earth."
The Saiyan stood up and fixed him with a hard glare.
"I don't care if you have children, you mite, I'm going to tear you limb from limb-..."
He stopped short.
The Namekian smiled dryly. "Your visage is drearily familiar. This brother you speak of wouldn't happen to be a certain Son Goku, would it?"
The Saiyan grunted. "I take it he gets around."
The Namekian growled and lifted his purple gi, revealing a gigantic scar across his stomach.
"He was barely a child when he tore right through me."
The Saiyan pulled his armor to one side. A similar mark adorned his chest, only this one was smaller and more concentrated.
"A Namek named Piccolo blasted me here not an hour ago."
His opposite number let out a dark chuckle. "Yes, that would be the one who's egg I regurgitated seconds before I landed in this hole in the ground."
His expression then turned to one of rage.
"Did you say Son Goku held you down and allowed my son to kill you?"
"Don't make me repeat myself," snapped the Saiyan. "They started off rather frosty but by the end of it they were working together like best of buds. Nappa himself would've had a hard time-..."
He was again cut off by a shriek of fury, and a small explosion as the Namek fired a black sphere in the direction of a large rock.
"Such treachery," he bellowed to no one in particular. "I give you life, and all I ask in return is the murder of my killer, and in response you ally yourself with him? This cannot, WILL NOT go unpunished!"
He took out his frustration on another innocent rock.
The Saiyan had sat down in a heap.
"You're not the only one with family problems, green man. Take it easy. Both Kakarot and your delinquent brat will be here soon, my allies will arrive in a year and make short work of them."
The Namek smiled sadistically. "Then there is no time as the present to commence a plan of vengence."
The Saiyan met this with a mutual bark-like laugh of hatred.
He trudged to his feet.
"Normally I'd kill someone for bringing me this kind of news, but seeing as we have some mutual cause here..."
The Namekian extended his hand. "Demon King Piccolo."
The Saiyan considered, and then shook it. "Raditz. One of the last four pure blooded Saiyans."
"I guess there's three now, if this guy's son was right about Kakarot being wished back to life," he mused to himself.
"Let's go mutilate some weaklings. I find that therapeutic after being killed in an undignified fashion."
Raditz never even thought about the Dragon Balls again until that fateful day, decades later, when an unknowable amount of time spent plotting revenge finally came to a head.
