The night sky sparkled with the luminous twinkle of stars; the moon only adding to the effect of mystery that always seemed to be associated with dark. Outside on a balcony stood Vegeta, staring out into the depths of space, while his wife Bulma slept inside. He had closed the doors initially due to the somewhat frigid air that was common at the time of year, yet Vegeta was lost in deep and intricate thought so he came to the decision to leave it open and let fresh air inside his cavernous dwelling and home. Lost in thoughts of his home planet, Vegeta, the Saiyajin No Ouji glanced up at the stars forlornly, the large void where his planet should have been shining brightly along with it's sun instead replacing it.
So much had been taken from him by Freeza. The pink lizard and stolen his child-hood and broken his pride on more occasions than he could count. And the worst part was taking orders from that pink bastard and knowing he could do absolutely, utterly nothing to alter his course. When he was long ago younger and foolish he had the un-tainted temerity to challenge the beast when ordered. A shudder crawled its way up his spine as the memories of the past ran through his head. Oh, what he had endured that day... By the end of the fifth cycle he had lay gasping in a pool of his own blood, near every bone broken in his body as Freeza merely stood by him; amused at his immense pain. For a week he spent his time holed up inside a regeneration chamber. How he hated those damn chambers. They reminded him of defeat, and failure was something the Saiyajin Prince simply couldn't tolerate. On a similar thought, his mind decided to throw another ghost of the past at him. His old mentor and gaurdian, Nappa. He was always there for him when Freeza had felt like taking out his frustrations on the Chibi Prince. And even with that knowledge he had so ruthlessly killed him. Ah, but that was so long ago, and Nappa had been quite weak after all, he thought with a derisive snort. The bald Saiyajin must have caused quite a ruckus when he got into Hell, he chuckled mirthfully.
The thought of Hell snapped him out of his reverie, and brought him back to reality, a place as cold and harsh as perhaps Hell itself. Looking down at his hands, the hands that slew uncounted billions in a furious blood-lust, he wondered if perhaps he had done the right thing under Freeza. Of course, he regretted none of the killing. He enjoyed the work under Freeza, but it was the pink lizard itself that made him want to kill something at the mere thought. And finally, his mind traveled to his death at the bastard's own hands. After trying so hard, and training for so much, at the end he was nothing but a failure; what he always had been, and always would be, in his own eyes. His father must've been outraged to find he had not been the Legendary Super Saiyajin. That accursed god-damn Kakarrotto had managed to not only surpass him on several occasions but had achieved the transformation before him, the Saiyajin Prince! He even had to beg him through eyes full fo tears to tear down the tyrant that dominated his life for so long... He lay dying in a ditch created from his own mis-haps, the ditch that Freeza had invariably condemned him to. And to make matters worse, in the end, throughout his life-time of struggles... It was all for naught, as Freeza was the one who finally ended his life with but a stroke of his finger. Strength? HAH! Strength he had not at all. But he would work to fix that! Vegeta would be damned if he ever let himself be surpassed and beaten by that detestable low-class Kakarrotto by will. Then TRULY would he be not worth living. Yes, he would work to avenge his past, and to become the true Saiyajin Prince that his heritage so strongly required. And then... Then, would Kakarrotto bow before Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyajins.