Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A Flawed Perfection
"What!?! Vegeta!" was my sole cogitation as the incandescent, blue orb of ki swept over my back. A spasm weaved through my muscles, prompting a stumble -- if only for a moment.
Normally, such a blow would not affect my ultimate perfection. I wasn't just a cut above the Saiyajin, but a dozen cuts; my ascension had left nothing to be desired. The extra-terrestrial noble had surprised me, though. His upswept locks, framing his face like a crown, glowed a golden colour I had not realized he possessed the ki to achieve. It was surprising that my judgment had lapsed in such a fashion as to underestimate Vegeta, but it didn't really matter.
I could see that the prince had utilized his last energies in his contribution to the ki battle. The boy -- the only one who transcended the first level -- was tiring. Only a moment ago he'd been reaching the point where he'd be forced to leave his transformation. Gohan, Piccolo, Vegeta, and all the others, were bereft of energy; his final victory was fast approaching.
Then, a spasmodic vibration shook my ki blast. It was nearly imperceptible at first, but steadily grew in strength. Without warning, my ki blast's energies plummeted. In seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, I spun back to the boy I faced. His ki had reappeared, stronger than ever and growing exponentially. Perhaps, had I been focused on him in his entirety, I could have stopped him, but Vegeta had distracted me. With a horrible sense of finality, a wall of heat struck me, its searing gusts buffeting me, as a child in the desert. Lacking even the simple protection of a ki shield -- my conscious mind having ignored the need for protection in its ecstasy -- I was stunned by the seemingly unending waves of wind and heat. I could not even summon the concentration, through the layers of pain, to utilize the recently acquired Instant Transmission. Then... the boy's blast smote down my perfect form and, after only a few seconds of indescribable pain, I knew no more.
* * *
I awoke on a strange, stone platform, elevated above an indomitable wall of clouds. I attempted to raise a finger and made a startling discovery. I still had fingers! In fact, my body, in its entirety resided on the platform, despite that golden-haired brat's efforts to destroy me. It was impossible, but the only conclusion my logical mind could draw was that I'd somehow survived the blast. An arrogant smirk alighting my features. It was payback time. Putting a finger to my forehead, I focused on discerning Son Gohan's location... and failed.
"Where are you Son Gohan!?!" I screamed, an expression of inhuman rage replacing my grinning visage. "I'm not finished with you yet!" Then for the second... third... no fourth... ugh. I was startled far too many times that day. Anyway... a somewhat timid ogre approached me, pushing two clouds, in front of me, from his path.
"Errrr... Mr. Cell," he began, glancing at his clipboard uncertainly. Normally I would have simply blasted the fool, but it was possible that the weakling could grant some elucidation to my queries. Then I could blast him. The ogre then continued, "Lord Yemma requests your presence inside the station." He pointed towards the building that the pathway I'd appeared upon led to.
My reply was short and to the point. "I will go meet your Yemma once I've discerned my location, and not one second before." That was when my reply became slightly more threatening. "... and since you appear to know where I am, I'd recommend you inform me before I'm forced to kill you." Punctuating that statement, I grabbed the now blubbering fool by the collar, holding him more than a foot off the ground.
As usual, intimidation was all the force necessary. Within a few seconds, the pink-skinned ogre stammered something about a check-in station and my death; it was a reasonable explanation as to why I could no longer sense any of the Z Senshi, save Son Goku. Unfortunately for him, it was not what I wanted to hear and therefore, he died rather painfully. The details are a little bit fuzzy, but I think I recall impaling someone on the pointed part of the station's roof and I can't remember brutally murdering anyone else.
After that interesting interlude, I finally came to approach Yemma's castle. It was a grand building, though no larger than many buildings on Earth. It enjoyed a single advantage in grandeur over all the Earthling's constructions, however. Yemma's castle floated, without any sign of mechanical aid. Ultimately, I didn't care. All I cared about was meeting that fool Yemma, in order to prompt a return to life. If nothing else, I atleast needed to know how my perfect design could have failed in its mission. That loss still puzzled my expansive intellect. I should have been victorious with ease, but instead, I was defeated. I even made errors; such occurrences should have been impossible.
Ignoring the ogres that flanked my form, somehow believing that they were guarding me, I approached who I assumed to be Yemma's desk. He was pink-skinned, with purple garments, but his most pervasive trait was his expansive bulk. It surprised me that "Lord Yemma" could even fit through his own castle's doors. It really wasn't important, though. His ki was ridiculously low; even the weakling humans, who attacked me, could have vanquished him without a thought.
Deciding to utilize the same tactics on him that had reduced his ogres to blubbering peons, I approached the giant, and immediately found myself restrained by some sort of force shield that restricted my movements. It was not dissimilar to a cage in that sense. That was when the gargantuan ogre let out a deep, throaty laugh. "So Cell... you've finally arrived in Otherworld. You've been creating quite a fuss in the living world. I can almost certainly determine your fate already, but we must check the records first."
Opening an exceptionally large book, the God began flipping through the pages. Taking a sadistic glee at the size of his file -- the number of beings who had died at my hands -- I took heart. So what if I was to be eternally damned? Atleast I'd had the chance to experience the joy inherent in the slaughter of innocents. I'd done more damage than most universal tyrants could claim and slain the universe's mightiest hero. I had no regrets.
"Cell Senior," King Yemma finally announced: "murdered 20, 408, 729, including Son Goku and Trunks Briefs. 708 other pernicious deeds are recorded. How do you plead."
King Yemma's speech had brought an amused smirk to my countenance. I'd never actually known exactly how many beings I'd killed and it would be good to have something to compare against my contemporaries in Hell, when the pitiful little paperwork demon finished his sentencing. "Guilty," I replied callously.
"Fine then," the ogre said, closing his book. "There is only one more thing to do before the sentencing. You, Cell Senior, may have on request, within reason. It cannot be a request to regain your life. Even though you're a butcher, we must follow through with this particular regulation, so please be quick about it."
I was somewhat dissappointed to learn I wouldn't get a shot at the brat who'd killed me again, but I quickly repressed the dissappointment. I did have a question to ask. "How could I, the perfect being, have failed?"
My question brought on another chuckle in the God of life and death. "Your answer will bring you little comfort, Cell," King Yemma responded, quelling his foreboding chuckles. "The answer is that all perfection is flawed. Perfection comes hand in hand with stagnation, the precursor to destruction. You lost your battle with the Z Senshi because they are imperfect: unpredictable and capable of improvement. You failed -- Cell -- because yours is a flawed perfection."
Before I could even contemplate a rebuttal, the ogre's final words boomed from his platform. "Cell Senior, for innumerable, heinous crimes, you are sentanced to the Hell of evil warriors: a land where even the most bloodthirsty tire of combat and escape, through death, is nearly impossible. You are damned, Cell. Have a nice afterlife," and without warning, a trap door opened beneath me, power's greater than those of a black hole forcing my descent into eternal torment. My thoughts didn't even register the fact. All my mind could focus on was Yemma's explanation. I was not perfect. I was flawed: a flawed perfection.
A Flawed Perfection
"What!?! Vegeta!" was my sole cogitation as the incandescent, blue orb of ki swept over my back. A spasm weaved through my muscles, prompting a stumble -- if only for a moment.
Normally, such a blow would not affect my ultimate perfection. I wasn't just a cut above the Saiyajin, but a dozen cuts; my ascension had left nothing to be desired. The extra-terrestrial noble had surprised me, though. His upswept locks, framing his face like a crown, glowed a golden colour I had not realized he possessed the ki to achieve. It was surprising that my judgment had lapsed in such a fashion as to underestimate Vegeta, but it didn't really matter.
I could see that the prince had utilized his last energies in his contribution to the ki battle. The boy -- the only one who transcended the first level -- was tiring. Only a moment ago he'd been reaching the point where he'd be forced to leave his transformation. Gohan, Piccolo, Vegeta, and all the others, were bereft of energy; his final victory was fast approaching.
Then, a spasmodic vibration shook my ki blast. It was nearly imperceptible at first, but steadily grew in strength. Without warning, my ki blast's energies plummeted. In seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, I spun back to the boy I faced. His ki had reappeared, stronger than ever and growing exponentially. Perhaps, had I been focused on him in his entirety, I could have stopped him, but Vegeta had distracted me. With a horrible sense of finality, a wall of heat struck me, its searing gusts buffeting me, as a child in the desert. Lacking even the simple protection of a ki shield -- my conscious mind having ignored the need for protection in its ecstasy -- I was stunned by the seemingly unending waves of wind and heat. I could not even summon the concentration, through the layers of pain, to utilize the recently acquired Instant Transmission. Then... the boy's blast smote down my perfect form and, after only a few seconds of indescribable pain, I knew no more.
* * *
I awoke on a strange, stone platform, elevated above an indomitable wall of clouds. I attempted to raise a finger and made a startling discovery. I still had fingers! In fact, my body, in its entirety resided on the platform, despite that golden-haired brat's efforts to destroy me. It was impossible, but the only conclusion my logical mind could draw was that I'd somehow survived the blast. An arrogant smirk alighting my features. It was payback time. Putting a finger to my forehead, I focused on discerning Son Gohan's location... and failed.
"Where are you Son Gohan!?!" I screamed, an expression of inhuman rage replacing my grinning visage. "I'm not finished with you yet!" Then for the second... third... no fourth... ugh. I was startled far too many times that day. Anyway... a somewhat timid ogre approached me, pushing two clouds, in front of me, from his path.
"Errrr... Mr. Cell," he began, glancing at his clipboard uncertainly. Normally I would have simply blasted the fool, but it was possible that the weakling could grant some elucidation to my queries. Then I could blast him. The ogre then continued, "Lord Yemma requests your presence inside the station." He pointed towards the building that the pathway I'd appeared upon led to.
My reply was short and to the point. "I will go meet your Yemma once I've discerned my location, and not one second before." That was when my reply became slightly more threatening. "... and since you appear to know where I am, I'd recommend you inform me before I'm forced to kill you." Punctuating that statement, I grabbed the now blubbering fool by the collar, holding him more than a foot off the ground.
As usual, intimidation was all the force necessary. Within a few seconds, the pink-skinned ogre stammered something about a check-in station and my death; it was a reasonable explanation as to why I could no longer sense any of the Z Senshi, save Son Goku. Unfortunately for him, it was not what I wanted to hear and therefore, he died rather painfully. The details are a little bit fuzzy, but I think I recall impaling someone on the pointed part of the station's roof and I can't remember brutally murdering anyone else.
After that interesting interlude, I finally came to approach Yemma's castle. It was a grand building, though no larger than many buildings on Earth. It enjoyed a single advantage in grandeur over all the Earthling's constructions, however. Yemma's castle floated, without any sign of mechanical aid. Ultimately, I didn't care. All I cared about was meeting that fool Yemma, in order to prompt a return to life. If nothing else, I atleast needed to know how my perfect design could have failed in its mission. That loss still puzzled my expansive intellect. I should have been victorious with ease, but instead, I was defeated. I even made errors; such occurrences should have been impossible.
Ignoring the ogres that flanked my form, somehow believing that they were guarding me, I approached who I assumed to be Yemma's desk. He was pink-skinned, with purple garments, but his most pervasive trait was his expansive bulk. It surprised me that "Lord Yemma" could even fit through his own castle's doors. It really wasn't important, though. His ki was ridiculously low; even the weakling humans, who attacked me, could have vanquished him without a thought.
Deciding to utilize the same tactics on him that had reduced his ogres to blubbering peons, I approached the giant, and immediately found myself restrained by some sort of force shield that restricted my movements. It was not dissimilar to a cage in that sense. That was when the gargantuan ogre let out a deep, throaty laugh. "So Cell... you've finally arrived in Otherworld. You've been creating quite a fuss in the living world. I can almost certainly determine your fate already, but we must check the records first."
Opening an exceptionally large book, the God began flipping through the pages. Taking a sadistic glee at the size of his file -- the number of beings who had died at my hands -- I took heart. So what if I was to be eternally damned? Atleast I'd had the chance to experience the joy inherent in the slaughter of innocents. I'd done more damage than most universal tyrants could claim and slain the universe's mightiest hero. I had no regrets.
"Cell Senior," King Yemma finally announced: "murdered 20, 408, 729, including Son Goku and Trunks Briefs. 708 other pernicious deeds are recorded. How do you plead."
King Yemma's speech had brought an amused smirk to my countenance. I'd never actually known exactly how many beings I'd killed and it would be good to have something to compare against my contemporaries in Hell, when the pitiful little paperwork demon finished his sentencing. "Guilty," I replied callously.
"Fine then," the ogre said, closing his book. "There is only one more thing to do before the sentencing. You, Cell Senior, may have on request, within reason. It cannot be a request to regain your life. Even though you're a butcher, we must follow through with this particular regulation, so please be quick about it."
I was somewhat dissappointed to learn I wouldn't get a shot at the brat who'd killed me again, but I quickly repressed the dissappointment. I did have a question to ask. "How could I, the perfect being, have failed?"
My question brought on another chuckle in the God of life and death. "Your answer will bring you little comfort, Cell," King Yemma responded, quelling his foreboding chuckles. "The answer is that all perfection is flawed. Perfection comes hand in hand with stagnation, the precursor to destruction. You lost your battle with the Z Senshi because they are imperfect: unpredictable and capable of improvement. You failed -- Cell -- because yours is a flawed perfection."
Before I could even contemplate a rebuttal, the ogre's final words boomed from his platform. "Cell Senior, for innumerable, heinous crimes, you are sentanced to the Hell of evil warriors: a land where even the most bloodthirsty tire of combat and escape, through death, is nearly impossible. You are damned, Cell. Have a nice afterlife," and without warning, a trap door opened beneath me, power's greater than those of a black hole forcing my descent into eternal torment. My thoughts didn't even register the fact. All my mind could focus on was Yemma's explanation. I was not perfect. I was flawed: a flawed perfection.