DISCLAIMER: This is a (non-profit) fan based parody. DragonBall, Dragon Ball Z, and DragonBall GT are all owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Akira Toriyama. Please support the official release, but not GT. Let that thing die in peace. Oh, and Dragon Ball Evolution. Lost a few brain cells watching the trailer for that one. Probably the rest of the population did too.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Cause and effect. It is that simple. Echoes of power ripple through everything. Power, when concentrated highly enough, will tear rents in the cosmos. And echoes can remain long after their source is gone.
When Buu raged against all that was happening to him at the hands of Vegito, he caused tears in reality. Echoes of his power and all that made it up seeped through to other universes. One such universe saw a shadowy hero rise because of it. They learned to fight and protect themselves because of this echo. It showed them that there was hope. That there was a possibility that evil would not prevail. Like the nature of an echo of sound, this powerful shade of one who fought for all that was good flitted from place to place. Unlike an echo, it was drawn most heavily to those places which were the most oppressed.
Unfortunately for those who chose to do the oppressing, this echo stayed quite powerful.
In a war-torn universe, near the bitterly cold ends of the cosmos, a tear took form. It was shaped like a crooked, jagged smile. Golden light poured through it, and with it, a terrifying scream of primal rage. A rippling current of power shot through the open gateway, hissing with deadly energy. And then, the scream shut off and the crack closed just as fast as it had appeared. But what was done was done. An echo had been sent through. Like a homing missile, it had found a target.
Several billions of lightyears away from those hellish edges, planets began to take form. None could support life, though. Nearly a half billion lightyears from these dead orbs, though, life was quite present. In the outer arms of a spiral galaxy, lit by twin suns similar to those of our own Solar System, a planet floated in the inky blackness that was ravaged by pain. Measuring about as big as our own Jupiter, it was quite highly populated. Evolution ran rampant on this planet, each new life-form desperately struggling to compensate for the harsh gravity and thick atmosphere that this planet claimed as its own. Eventually, it settled on bipeds, though they had four arms. Their muscles were thick, brutish things, power packed into every organic fiber. But they were not brutes themselves, not mostly. But some were.
Each year on the planet lasted approximately twice that of Earth's, and the lifespan of these aliens (called by themselves Na'te'ri, or Uturdu by foreigners) was nearly three times the numerical span of that of an Earthling, only in their own planet's years. For centuries, they had been known throughout their area of the galaxy as a peaceable people; powerful and exceedingly dangerous if angered, but all-round nice people. Then one male Na'te'ri was birthed.
He was given the name Hert'ut'zog by his mother. The name was as ill a match as ever was made, for his name meant "He of the Powerful Kind Spirit." When he was 4 Na'te'ri years old, he set fire to his school. At 9 (an adult by their standards), he was head of the vur'tuOng gang, the most vile set of scum on that planet. At 11, he had 297 murder warrants pending. By the same time the next year, that number had doubled. By 16, he headed an international terror organization.
By 21, he had committed mass genocide across 2 continents with his bare hands. The death toll is still unsure. By 30, he ruled that planet with an iron fist and much of the near galaxy.
To this planet, the echo came. Silent and vengeful, it raced with deadly intent.
Electricity crackled in shimmering arcs across the torn battlefield. Mechanical behemoths plowed ponderously ahead, unleashing devastating beams of laser light across the land. Seemingly caressing the enemy defenses, almost gently, they lit up the area with fire. Touching a fuel tank, they lit it up. A heedless inferno followed the indifferent explosion that tossed broken bodies like cards here and there. Behind the tattered remains of the shorn defenses huddled the last of the resistance against Hert'ut'zog and his grip of terror on the planet. They shook in fear, knowing the end was near. They could hear the mad laughs of the battle-drunk warriors on the evil one's side. No mercy was given those who were deemed enemies of Hert'ut'zog.
More explosions rocked the remains of the shelter that seemed increasingly untenable as protection. Fear made every second seem like an hour. Loud impacts among the trenches dug by the last rebels on the planet signaled the arrival of the shock troops. A small ball was tossed into the shelter, along with many laughs. Shrieking in terror, one Na'te'ri collapsed, holding his chest with two thick arms. Foam formed on his blue lips as he thrashed, caught in the throes of what we know as a heart attack. With a final, deathly gurgle, he stilled.
Nearly as soon as he had fallen down, the ball lit up and gas shot violently from hidden holes that opened on its sides. Within seconds, each rebel leader was out cold, to be taken for interrogation and eventual execution. Snorting in laughter, the shock troops lumbered in with gas masks. Each dragged out one limp body, including the dead body of the unfortunate heart attack victim. Not even death would let him escape torture; technology had evolved to the point that such deaths were easily reversible.
Thus, the battlefield was empty, save for the carnage of unsalvageable corpses, when the light came down. It blasted a huge crater in the ground, hundreds of meters in each direction, then resolved itself into the muscled form of a young warrior with golden hair, kneeling on the ground on one knee, one fist out to the side to balance. Slowly, he stood up. His eyes were turquoise, and something hard lurked behind his eyes. He lifted off the small hill that had formed, crossing over the crater. Looking from side to side, he finally appeared to decide on a direction. Then he started walking at a brisk pace.
In the city nearest to the battlefield, the soldiers dragged the unconscious bodies of the rebels into the interrogation building. Injections woke them up sooner than they might have hoped. Soon, screams shot through the town, despite the soundproofed walls.
On the outskirts of the town, a ruckus began to develop. A strange being came walking onto the cementlike streets. His clothing was purple, a new shade for the Na'te'ri. The soldiers, unaware of their folly, began to dutifully perform their jobs. Raising their guns, they shouted what approximated an order to stop, which he did. His head turned towards the soldiers, slowly. A single lock of blonde hair floated in front of his eyes. The soldiers quailed under this strange being's hard eyes. The first soldier was a bit panicky and pulled the trigger on his gun. It shrouded the alien in thick black smoke, but the screen soon drifted away to reveal that he was unscathed. Noises of astonishment made their way from the soldiers' mouths. That was the last sounds they made in their lives. The golden being raised his hand and an orb of fire formed in his palm. It shot towards them and they were incinerated in seconds.
The strange being stared at the ashes for a few seconds, eyes hard and unblinking, before continuing walking.
Unaware of the vengeful being heading their way, the gleeful interrogators continued tormenting the rebels for information that did not exist. They took great delight in inflicting pain upon others, especially for the wages that they were paid. That they held places of great prominence in their "government" was just an added bonus for them. As one jabbed an electrical prod in an open wound, the door to the top floor opened, the sound masked by the ensuing tortured howl of agony emanating from the rebel's mouth. The only indication that they got that someone was there was the golden light pouring into the room under the door. They chittered in annoyance and one stomped up the stairs with a knife in each fist.
The door exploded.
The Na'te'ri tormentor on the stairs was thrown violently against the far wall. Bones broke, organs pulped, and blood flowed. Then footsteps started coming down the steps. Slow, unhurried. The other tormentors dropped their implements as the muscled warrior came down the steps. He turned to look at them. A low, guttural growl of unadulterated rage came from his throat, sounding like something dragged up from the deepest pits of Hell. Fear fell across all in the room. He moved again, this time stepping in front of his quarry. Picking one of them up in one powerful arm, he began to rise in the air. His other arm went out behind him and landed on the torturer's face. Then it went back behind him. Then forward. Then back. Then forward.
A wet slap heralded the destroyed head of the dead Na'te'ri hitting the floor with his body. Slowly, menacingly, the vengeful echo turned to face the third one. A hand reached out and grabbed his arms. Loud snaps sounded an instant before his howls of pain. Falling to the ground, he fell victim to a vicious kick that all but paralyzed him. The last one, not waiting to die at the hands of this vengeful god, took a gun off the table and shot himself in the head. His corpse fell bonelessly to the ground. At this point, the rebels were utterly terrified, not knowing if they were going to die or be further tortured. To their surprise, the flaming avatar of vengeance looked at them and smiled before breaking their restraints. A small brown pouch on his belt yielded several small green beans, one of which was handed to each leader. Demonstrating with one himself, the alien indicated that they should eat them. Hesitantly, they did so, and uttered gasps of astonishment as their injuries all healed immediately. They all looked at him with shining faces, wordless thanks in their eyes. A warm smile from that golden face graced them before his face became serious again and he drifted up to the top floor.
His walking continued, out from the city to another battlefield. In his wake he left a trail of astonished Na'te'ri.
This battlefield still held combatants. War raged about the golden warrior, but did not disturb him. His hair rippled lightly in the turbulent air. Finally, he moved again. Within seconds, the battlefield was still. Not a single soldier of Hert'ut'zog was left alive. In front of the view camera on one of the mechanical menaces, the warrior paused. Crouching, he glared into the lens. His hand glowed with power. Then, the feed cut out.
I'm thinking of working on this with another author. I'm looking for volunteers - shoot me a PM if you're interested! If you want to ask me questions, feel free to do so! I'm always willing to talk to people about any range of subjects. Also: Don't forget to review! The more reviews I get, the more I write. It's kinda a motivator for me, so if you enjoy my work, review and I'll be more motivated to write!