So this is a story that's been kicking about in my head for a while now. Between my work commitments and the constant stream of endless moving about and re-settling, I've never really been able to afford myself the luxury of just sitting down and writing it. Chances are, in a matter of weeks, or months, the aforementioned luxury will be stripped from me again, so I decided it was time to make hay...

It is fairly unplanned, in that I never bothered to make too many notes, and it will be played by ear to a certain degree, but hopefully it will turn out how I want it to... Even if I haven't decided how I want it to turn out...

So yeah, it's my first attempt at a full length story, and it will probably take a looooooong time, but screw it, let's go for it shall we?

Thanks in advance.

Joe.

***

"Is it working?" Demanded the tall, figure. His dress immaculate, not a hair or fold of clothing out of place.

"Not yet Chairman! We're just having some minor problems, we shall be ready momentarily!" The voice was reedy and harangued. It belonged to an old engineer who was every bit as chaotic in appearance as the Chairman was neurotic. His frizzy hair wild and unkempt, shooting from his head at the oddest of angles, bar from his smooth crown, glistening with the sweat that betrayed his attempt at a calm demeanour. He was one of many similarly dressed engineers, all swarming over one machine like worker ants, desperate to please their Queen, lest her restraint be tested.

"How soon Nemanja? I have been patient until now, but I can't help but feel that you're taking advantage of my benign nature..."

"No! I swear to you Chairman, we shall be ready for you in just a moment!" The engineer was repeating himself. The chairman also noticed this.

"So tell me Nemanja. Did you follow my other request, or did you warn your family?"

The engineer's face froze, the picture of horror, the words he used next were no longer pleading, and the tone of a salesman trying to convince a customer had also disappeared. All that was left in Nemanja's voice was fear. Fear and desperation.

"My family know nothing of what is going on sir! They are still safe surely! I have broke none of your rules, and the machine is ready sir, it is! We just need to recalibrate one thing! I promise you sir, we have not missed our deadline!"

"Good." Said the Chairman, "I would so hate to have to kill them."

It was at this point that a klaxon sounded from the machine.

"My Lord! It's ready! The Machine is ready!" There was unadulterated glee present in the engineers voice. He was one step closer to freedom and safety.

The Chairman rose from where he had been seated, and joined the expedition force gathered on the walkway. It was unknown what was waiting for them beyond this gate, but the Chairman had ushered them into this new age of technological superiority, he would not miss out on the first use of their greatest development yet.

The group of travellers appeared out of nowhere, and were steeped in nothing but blackness.

The youngest of the force, a conscript barely out of his teens, was not comfortable with this situation at all. Despite the blinding darkness, he could tell he was indoors, but that the surrounding space was enormous. There were definitely solid walls on all sides, but there was also a lot of space dividing them.

"Cyalumes." A gruff voice behind him commanded. Private Zlatan fumbled in one of his many pockets, but managed to produce the plastic cylinder, which he bent and cracked, allowing it to immediately cast a dim red glow, that barely permeated the darkness in front of his face, nevermind lighting a safe path.

"Gogs!" the voice commanded again, this time with the barest hint of panic. Pte. Zlatan clumsily reached to the side of his head, found the switch, and shut his eyes. He could feel the brightness burning against his eyelids, had they not been closed, Zlatan would surely have been blinded.

The light dimmed, and Zlatan slowly opened his eyes, and was glad that he could see through the darkness, although not perfectly, he could at least see far enough to plan a route to walk through. The light from the cyalumes had been caught and magnified by the vision goggles, which then dispersed the light through his field of vision, allowing him to see.

Some people, however, remained blind.

"What is this place? What the hell is going on?" The Chairman's voice, normally a bored sounding drawl, had an edge of uncertainty. Voices were all Zlatan had to go by, and it would seem the Chairman was shitting himself.

"Sir," the gruff voice took the initiative, " we appear to be in some sort of cavern... I'd assume we're underground because of the darkness. Do you wish to see?"

"No captain, I enjoy sensory deprevation, and blindness happens to be one of my favourites! Of course I wish to see!"

Zlatan knew what was about to happen. He ducked down onto his knees, under the pretence of examining the loose soil type ground underneath, and managing to hide himself behind a corporal before the captain could look in his direction.

"Private Wenska! Your goggles, now!"

Zlatan allowed himself to stand slowly, continuing to take in his surroundings while the Chairman fumbled with the complicated headgear. Eventually the clumsy noises ceased, and the Chairman was talking again.

"Perhaps and bit desolate and depressing for our first location, but I think we can definitely agree that this place is not like any we are aware of on Earth...

Zlatan had to agree. He'd never seen anything like this in his life.

The walls, the floors and the ceilings all seemed to be made of a incredibly strange substance. It's texture was loose like soil, but also spongy. The weirdest thing was how the ground managed to almost heal itself. Zlatan gouged a small portion of it from the ground, and then turned his hand over, and allowed it to fall back down. Almost immediately after the 'soil' came in contact with the ground again, it seemed to ooze and seep its way back into its previous position, sealing over the damage he had caused without any indication anything had happened to it.

There was slight murmuring throughout the group, as every man either muttered to himself or whispered to one another. Obviously, Zlatan was not the only man who was less than entirely comfortable with this place. He distinctly heard one of his corporals mutter the phrase "alien" to a younger NCO.

"As disturbing as our new locale may be," said the Chairman reproachfully, "we are still an expeditionary team, so let our investigations begin.

With this he strode off purposefully, only looking slightly off balance with his new walking surface.

The rest of the group followed, all walking slowly and awkwardly. Each man experimenting with the floor, learning how to deal with its odd mixture of absorbency and springiness they encountered with every step.

The group travelled as one. Every time one of the researches wanted to stop and document a finding, they did so. Everytime the soldiers wanted to investigate a possible danger, the group followed behind slowly, but they had encountered nothing but walls so far.

A movement caught Zlatans eye, and he turned sharply before he realised what it was. There was a seam-like crack running the length of one of the walls which seemed to pulse, a concentration of the light along its length, disappearing around the corner.

These pulsing seams became more common the further they travelled into their new world. Some en were following along at the rear, marking their way back to the gate with fluorescent tape they pinned to the floor.

As they came into another chamber, Zlatan realised his eyes were starting to hurt, and as they'd travelled deeper, more light was emanating from the pulsing seams. He was commanded to remove his goggles, and see if there was enough light for the team to operate without them.

"Yeah, it's safe." His dry throat cracked with the effort of talking, he hadn't said a word before now today, and it was long after lunchtime now, his stomach was making him aware of that.

The chamber was lit entirely by the wall seams, which cast off an eerie deep pink, almost purple light. The walls seemed to have scorch marks on them but no other sign of damage, bar a hideous smell that seeped through the room. Zlatan brought his shemag further over his face to cover his nose, but the smell permeated through. Like burnt plastics and oils, it smelt horribly acidic.

"A sign of life, perhaps? Or at least some sort of activity..." One of the researches was muttering as he ambled past, seemingly confident that he was perfectly safe.

The group was thinning out, everyone walking their own separate ways, investigating at their own leisure. They'd seemed to reach a dead end, and were resting. Many of the soldiers taking the opportunity to administrate themselves, have a drink, or prepare some food. Zlatan fell back against one of the soft walls, almost bouncing back off, and slid down to a sitting position. Removing a battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one, relishing the sensation of relief as he inhaled his first draw.

He scanned around the room, taking in the activities of his compatriots, out of reflex more than interest.

It was then that he saw the Chairman for the first time in this light, and he took it in. Pietr Zlatan ha barely been out of conscript training when he was packed off to a close protection school, for having shown enough promise to be one of the Parliament's elite guards. He didn't expect to be assigned to the Chairman himself!

Zlatan took in his charge's features. The man was tall, not exceptionably so, but noticeably taller than most other men. He wasn't thickset, nor was he thin, but his limbs all seemed to have been elongated, like the man had been put on a rack and stretched slightly.

His face showed no real signs of age, but it was not youthful. His features were heavy and defined. A taught jaw line, with a perfectly straight nose. His neatly trimmed facial hair framing lips, now tight with contemplation as he ran his hands along one of the walls.

It was his eyes that people feared. There was no emotion ever present in them. No dilation of the pupils, no sign of life whatsoever, even in their dull brown colouring.

All in all, with his bearing and presentation, Chairman Dukovic was a man that gave the impression that there wasn't a single cell in his body that he didn't know exactly what it would be doing 18 months from now.

Zlatan shuddered. The Chairman creeped him out.

He had finished his cigarette and was stubbing it out, when suddenly it was swallowed by the ground. Zlatan looked on in shock as the butt then reappeared around 6 inches from where it had entered the ground, completely extinguished.

While he regarded this with wonder, he heard a shout of alarm, and turned around just soon enough to see an immaculately polished shoe fall off a foot that was being swallowed by the wall.

***

Hope you enjoyed, it was a bastard to write, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it... The first chapter's proving to be even more difficult...

Let me know what you think if you review

And I promise, Dragonball characters will indeed appear in the next chapter. It IS a Dragonball Z fanfic! Trust me..