Coward's Way
Part One: Enter the Players
Time: Several hours before the destruction of Vegeta-sei
Location: Planet Vegeta
Status: Impossible
He shivered violently, pressed hard against the ship's cold steel wall, the only thing sheltering him from the expanse of a world that had been, without a doubt, damned. The chill wracked his flesh, lancing down his spine and claiming reason and logic for its own. From somewhere deeper within the cargo hold, the sound of ragged breathing assaulted the Saiya-jin child's ears. His brother, severely injured by a flying piece of debris, and most likely on the verge of—
No! some inner voice screamed, overloading the young one's senses with its intensity. No, he's not going to die!
Beneath his feet, the terrain shuddered once more, and he was left asking himself why he had been foolish enough to think that four material walls would be able to keep them safe when Vegeta-sei finally went down in a flaming ball of yesterday's ruins, and what had left him clutching at the feeble hope that they'd somehow make it through this alive.
He fell to his knees, spiky brush of hair wavering, physical manifestation of his own insecurities. Reaching over, he pulled his younger sibling into his arms. The breathing was depthless, irregular.
"Hide," his uncle had told them. "Go somewhere. Stay out of sight. If there's a chance...if there's a chance..."
There had been a futile look in Bardock's eyes, and his gaze had been so terrible, they had obeyed, the older of the pair throwing a mere backwards glance over his shoulder, watching as his father's brother continued up the corridor, bloodied. He smelled of fear. Of truth. The younger Saiya-jins had followed his order without question or words, not speaking their minds or convictions to anybody save each other.
Another spasm wracked the surface of Vegeta-sei, seeming to come from the unfathomable depths of the planet's belly itself. A whimper erupted from the conscious one's throat, a weak, tremulous noise. It hung suspended upon charged atmosphere.
Sometimes, the silence of the young can prove lethal.
Time: Several hours before the destruction of Vegeta-sei
Location: Planet Vegeta
Status: Frustrated
Bardock faltered from where he stood, back to the doorway. Something inside of him quivered. Broken, battered, clinging to a thin shard of reality, the martyr-forced-into-martyrdom stood in awe at the scene that lay before him. He had come to warn his people, to offer them salvation at the price of blood...and they were...
Laughing!
Laughing, as though this were some stupid game he'd decided to play at, some cleverly outrageous tale he had devised in order to cover up-
—to cover up—
My weakness.
The lounge room wavered before his eyes; the leering faces, the jeering voices, the play of shadow and light were suddenly struck from his senses. Whether it was the great weariness he bore, or the intensity of a lifetime of finding ways around his own shortcomings turning and attacking in the space of a single moment, he was not sure.
Nor was he really concerned about seeking out the cause. He merely let the memory take him.
"Born and bred into a race of warriors. Born to you, Aelai. To me! And nothing more than a low-level, third-class fighter. Is this really what's become of you, Bardock?"
The younger Saiya-jin said nothing, fixing an obstinate, defiant gaze on the man he called father. He knew what was coming next and armed himself against the merciless onslaught of words, avoiding his mother's critical gaze.
"Another defeat. Another notch to add to your record of dragging your sorry ass in and coming up with some fairy-tale to justify yourself.
Pitiful"Bardock knew they were right.
Power was the everything he'd never have.
The Saiya-jin woke from his trance just in time to catch another half-heard jibe somebody had flung at him. He locked eyes with the one mocking him, and felt his breath catch in his throat.
The countertop, the scent alcohol, the smell of sweat and the feel of body heat. He was alive. He could see, hear, feel. He was part of the a planet that seethed and oozed with life.
Dare Bardock let it slip through his fingers?
This planet was his own.
He served under his king, low-level fighter or not.
Frieza was about to discover that no matter how vast the hold he had over the universe, there would always, always be at least one left to oppose him.
Bardock's fury channeled itself into the roar he hurled at the cynical, grinning faces around him, as if it were all their fault.
"Damn idiots! Damn you!!!"
The laughter subsided, replaced by stares that were both annoyed and quizzical.
"I don't need you. You can all go to hell!"
Bardock seemed frozen in place for just a moment before exploding past the doorway and towards impending disaster. Skepticism and questions hung heavy over the room.
Time: 7:08 pm, several years before Son Gohan's birth
Location: Earth
Status: Confusion
He heaved his bulk from the forest floor, glaring obstinately at an ancient sky, darkened by the coming dusk. The bland taste of the senzu bean burned on his tongue; he could still smell his own defeat. He, the Demon Lord, spawned of eternal night, drinking of loss. Overthrown. Beaten. Conquered.
By a human.
No, something cautioned. No human could have ever done that.
Or is that just your pride speaking?
From somewhere deeper amongst the sweetly scented pines, an animal trilled its mockery at him. Piccolo shifted his weight to his left thigh, maintaining a sitting position. Wind soughed within the tangled branches, a safe hollow, a place in which he could remain alone with his humiliation.
Absolutely, wonderfully, exquisitely alone.
It felt like eternity.
The bond between a Namekian parent and child was something sacred, no matter how stormy it may become. And Son had stolen that from him, taken his birthright, then smashed what was left of his pride and ground it into the dirt of yesterday's glory.
Terrifyingly, heartbreakingly, terribly alone.
"You can't love. You can't feel. You have no emotion…"
"…left to give," Piccolo finished out loud.
A young girl had told him that before. And her eyes were brown, one of the little, ironic memories he would carry with him to the day of his demise.
He'd been intoxicated with the thought that Goku was located in a small village on the outskirts of a barren piece of desert. The Demon Lord had taken the time to demolish it little by little. The girl (and no more than a girl she had been), had proved the last to die.
"You can't love. You can't feel. You have no emotion left to give." The tone was strong in its fragility, powerful at its moment of weakness.
There fell a silence.
Silence as she stared at the open palm of his clawed hand.
"Look at what you've done…" her voice quivered. Dark eyes flickered. Blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, contrasting sharply with lovely, pale skin. So soft. So tender. Such innocence.
Pity, pity, shame, really.
"Bastard. Bastard! I hope you burn in
hell!" the last word was emphasized by a feeble bout of frantic struggling."You know what?" Piccolo smirked, "I've already done that."
A flare of energy put an end to the child's stream of words, and the one born of iniquity stalked from the carnage, soul bleeding at the truth he found behind that simple statement.
He sat there for the longest of times, and, when the first stars exploded
into light against the night sky, he was there to greet them.
Time: 2:30 pm, one year after Majin Buu
Location: Earth
Status: Contemplative
A world-weary sigh escaped the drifter's lips and proceeded to vanish into a blue sky tinged with hints of cloud. No money, no food, no luck, the thrill and glamor of hitting the road having long since faded into reality and the sudden craving for chewing gum.
She ran a seeking tongue over her teeth, irritated at the habit of 'one stick of gum per day' that she'd picked up as a child. A frazzled mind raced back to her bedroom, her nightstand, the window, the horrific curtains she had been given for her sixteenth birthday, and a familiarity long vanished.
What made you want to stick around for so long? a silent whisper bade her to answer. What?
"I know," the wind sighed softly in her ear. Annoyed, Tasya jammed both hands into her pockets, only to realize she didn't have any. The oversized pants she wore screamed in protest at being paired with the tacky yellow blouse the girl had picked out of the closet at the last second, revealing both the great hurry she had been in and her the depths of her ability to keep up with what society considered 'the latest fashion'. She settled for folding both arms over her chest, partly out of custom, partly as protection against the chill breeze.
Running a hand through locks of coarse, undisciplined black hair, she breathed another disgruntled sigh and watched in dismay as dark clouds that had hinted themselves on the horizon began to rally together for what looked like the mother of all storms. Fighting back the urge to find the nearest rock or boulder, sit down and sob with the tenacity worthy of any sullen two-year-old was fast becoming harder and harder.
Whiner. A walk in the rain never killed anyone, she berated herself. Stopping was out of the question; she had to get to…somewhere…fast…because it was so urgent…
A sudden wash of alarm filled her being so suddenly, she nearly reeled backwards.
Tasya shook her head, trying to clear the mist forming in her mentality. With each step, her defiance dimmed more and more. It was like…it was treading the ground between fact and fantasy, a sort of grey area between the two. It was—
::FLASH::
"KAKAROT!!!"
The Saiya-jin's last, dying cry echoed through the darkness of space, blood draining from his face, air rushing from his lungs. Nature had given him life, the tyrant would take it back.
::FLASH::
"What the hell happened here?"
Clutching his friend tightly, willing him to stay alive, even it was merely for a few more stolen moments. The lips worked…moving…no noise came forth from…
::FLASH::
Tasya came back to herself, gasping for air. She had come to a full stop, having unconsciously given up the attempts to keep on moving forwards. Voices filled her head, reproving, angry, voices she had never heard before.
"…a disgrace. Nothing more. I'm ashamed to call you my son, dammit. Ashamed!"
Disgrace...shame...
His father might as well have struck him. He stood, rooted to the spot while…
::FLASH::
"No," Tasya hissed through clenched teeth. "These…memories…visions…whatever they are…they aren't mine! They aren't!"
"KAKAROT!!!"
Vegeta-sei was a flaming orb of light and explosive, destructive, energy. A shockwave rocked what had once been Bardock's world, his life. He felt the heat from the blast, then felt—
Nothing.
Nothing but road stretching forwards and backwards. Tasya was panting with effort; her walk had turned into a full-tilt run as thunder and lightening decided to show their faces.
Great time for an insanity-attack, she mused. This…these visions…have to stop. They're not mine. They're not mine. They're not mine.
She repeated the words over and over again in her head; they became a rhythm, a cadence that she tursted to wash her clean.
She felt as though she were denying herself.
Coming to a stop just before a rise in the path, the girl stared into a solid sheet of droplets, unseeing.
Not mine. I am Tasya…I never lived through this. NEVER! the thought was swift, fierce, and in the silence that followed, her tail twitched beneath the folds of her skirt.