For those that have already read this story:

Yes, it's mostly the same. With the changes in the system I figured this might actually be a good time to run a check on this story so far.

The Prologue is hardly altered, just checked the spelling and grammar. Later chapters I might change a bit more dramatically. I think especially the first fighting-scenes could be a bit more graphic. If you have any suggestions, thingies you'd like to see altered, please let me know.

Email: agnesswart@hotmail.com

But let me know soon. I intend to get this done quickly.

For those who haven't yet: Go right ahead.

You don't have to read the author's notes, though it might be a good idea. Just a suggestions

WHAT THIS STORY IS; Author's notes.

Yep, you guess it!

This is gonna be another one of those Saiyi-jin no-Ouji childhood-fics. It's gonna be long, and it's gonna be mean.

I'll say upfront that it's not gonna be a very friendly fic. I take a perverse kind of pleasure in putting characters in bad situations, and just kind of stand at the side, watching if they can manage to safe themselves.

On top of things, I'm gonna try and put characters against each-other, just to see who wins. I don't want to write a story going 'oh, yes, Vegeta's evil, but he's had such a hard time, he really can't help it, poor thing.' kind of fic.

I do want to put up a believable way his character grew, but that doesn't have to make him a nice person to begin with.

I don't believe people are good. I don't even believe children are good.

On the other hand, I don't believe anyone's truly evil either.

(So, there! I disagree with the great Goku himself!

Please, all you great and fuming fans, don't hurt me!)

As a consequence, all my characters in this story will be a mix, somewhere between good and evil.

Either that, or they are raving-stock MAD!

(And yes, mad is more fun. But the doctors do keep trying to hunt you down, and then there's all the blood-stains,... *shrugs*)

SO, warning! Blood, murder and serious psychological games ahead; angst, and –later- I am going to get to give Vegeta that twisted sense of humour we all remember and loved from when he first got introduced into the series.

(IMHO, the best part, even if he does look like a mad garden-gnome back then!)

This is my theory on creating a killer from scratch.

(Author imploring you to review the chapters)

If you disagree, please tell me.

If you dislike my writing-style, please tell me.

you want to talk about your family live? TELL ME!

I CAN DEAL WITH IT.

I'm a big girl.

but please, _please_, PLEASE REVIEW!

If there's something I HATE, it's someone READING THE STORY, and then LEAVING without REVIEWING!

Don't be shy, damned you! And don't tell me you're embarrassed for reading this.

I've written it, so I'm not ganna laugh at you!

Besides, I need the encouragement to keep going.;)

Honestly, nothing to get me writing the next part as getting a few emails telling me to keep going.

Other Warnings:

Oh, one last thing: yes. I am gonna swear. I can't help it. It comes natural to me. Must be all that TV.

Deal with it.

Like I said, there's gonna be a lot of blood, but that's natural in DBZ fics. I am going to go beyond 'his head exploded' though. I'm starting to like writing graphic violence scenes.

Sex I hardly think will get appropriate, though there's a little bit of naughty stuff on Veggies parents, but you have to be some kind of weirdo to take offence of those scenes. I think,.. (?) Of course, it could just be that I'm the weirdo.

Next point in the agenda:

I will integrate some fairy-tales and myths and such.

A little mood-setter at the beginning of every new chapter;

Just to put the 'epic feel' in there.

I may get the sources messed up, and who said what.

(As in this first part, I'm not exactly sure this was the man that said it, but it _is_ right outta

the history books; a true anecdote)

Tell me how you feel about those too, ok?

There. Was that ever the longest author's not or what?

Now that this all is out of the way, let's get on with the fic!

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball, or any or the characters. Not even Vegeta. damn, no Saij-jins for me!

oh, well.

At least I have a cat. It's almost the same: loud, violent and it keeps demanding food.

(You can start reading now.)

THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME

Ancient Greece:

At the time of Troije's seize by Athena and the other free Greek cities, the King of Troije speaks to his son:

"Live is a bitter thing.

Zuess has two bags for us, to deal from them our life.

One filled with sorrow.

One filled with joy.

If you are lucky, you will get your share form both these.

But most of us will only get from the bag of sorrow.

Prologue

Frieza sat his high-faulted chair, a glass of wine in one hand, the other stroking the pillowed armrest absentmindedly. He swayed the wine around in its cup, looking out of the grand stainless window; out onto the stars, and that magnificent view that was his, all his. As far as he could see, and beyond even that.

All was well, out here. But then, if he turned his ship the other way, he would be greeted by a view that proclaimed his future: millions of stars, billions of planets.

All there and readily awaiting their future;

all awaiting his coming.

Freeza sighed.

It would take forever and longer to conquer the whole galaxy.

But even an Ice-jin could not evade his destiny. And this was his destiny.

Still, he could delegate a few of his less important tasks to others.

It would save him some time.

Too bad it was the most enjoyable tasks that were easiest to appoint to others.

Even so, his mind was made up.

He had to do this.

He had to give up his favourite hobby.

No more time to raise his 'children'.

Too bad.

But, he reasoned, teaching someone to take his place. Teaching someone to raise his killers well… it would take some time. It would take, oh, at least fifteen years. So he at least still had this last bunch; his newest acquisitions.

He would just have to make them last.

Freeza sighed again as the blue youth behind him started fidgeting, no doubt getting tired of crouching on the floor.

Well, youth; almost a man grown now.

It really was a shame.

He had been such a pretty boy: cute, in an almost girlish sort of way.

But his voice was breaking now, spoiling the effect for good.

The lord and master of the universe decided to have mercy on his subject. He spoke up in his almost feminine voice.

Almost witch-like some would say. But Freeza felt it made him sound trust-worthy.

"Yes, Zarbon. You must be wondering why I've sent for you."

The young warrior seemed to take that as excuse enough to stand, but Freeza let it pass. If he'd been too lenient with the warrior before, it was now too late to do anything about it. He continued in his 'honey sweet' voice,

"Pay attention, my dear boy. You will take over our youngest warrior's training,..."

Trailing off, the Ice-jin finally turned from the visage beyond the window, curious to see the man's response.

He only nodded; disappointingly enough.; Freeza had hoped for more of a response then that.

After all, he was practically appointing him as a protégé.

Never mind it.

Zarbon had always been diplomatic at the most un-appropriate of times. –Or at least at all the times Freeza went for an emotional response.

It was probably the main reason the boy had managed to wiggle out of the usual -rather strict- training programs.

And worked his way up besides.

Well, that, and his looks.

Freeza shrugged mentally.

"Now then, my good friend. We will start with the basics. Creating a warrior."

The pink little tyrant groped for a good metaphor, then reached for the fruit plate at his side.

"Creating a warrior from a child is,... Is like creating wine from this grape,.."

Freeza smiled at his own wit, looking up at the man he felt was probably his most loyal subject.

"First, you squash it, and stamp it till no juices remain.

Then you stir and finally leave it to stew and distil on it's own."

Freeza smiled, squeezing the drape and letting the juice run into his glass.

"Only when it's done and ready, ready to you taste its flavour.

Only then can you know; know you have indeed done well."