ROGUE PLANET
by The Not-So-Super Saiyan
and Hanko
PROLOGUE TWO
It started as it always had...in the darkness.
Vegeta blinked rapidly, attempting to force his sticky eyes to adjust to the change. They had done it enough times in his life and normally they adjusted rather quickly, but not here. Never here.
The dull drumming of hot liquid beads fell down on him like soft pellets. He wiped his face, desperate to keep the warm showers from clouding his vision even further. He didn't have time for distractions. Not now.
Ears twitching with anticipation, he heard a low rumble, barely audible as the pads of desperate footfall grew more rapid. Louder and louder they came, but from where? He was growing more agitated. Settling into his stance, he adjusted his footing. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to scare him away, not now. He had survived everything else that had come his way.
The hot barrage from the dark skies fell harder and faster now. He wiped at his face again, lips curling back in a deep, guttural growl. He whipped his head around scanning the dust and wreckage but could find no signs of life. Then, suddenly. There he was. Small, so very small and insignificant.
The boy's head hung as if he were a puppet on a string. Dragging his tired feet over the mountains of rubble, he slowly made his way closer to the Vegeta. The child stopped directly across from him with a jerk, as if he had been yanked by an invisible chain.
The boy was pale with milky, fair skin - a drastic contrast to the mottled bruises and open wounds that covered his body. Something twisted deep in the pit of the Vegeta's stomach, something was too familiar about all of this.
Silence hung heavy in the air.
With what seemed to be great effort, the small child lifted his head and locked eyes with the man. "Toyt, aevilok er. Vera fyrir thirn, é gett ekki...munn ekki." The words hung between them like a haunting melody refusing to die. The small figure lifted his head the rest of the way with a violent jerk. The whites of his small, intense eyes bore holes deep within Vegeta's soul. Willing his frozen body to move, the best Vegeta could produce was a pathetic twitch in his fingers.
Completely.
Frozen.
The words the child spoke, in a language that always tasted old and stiff on his tongue, refused to leave him.
This death, it is yours. I cannot carry it for you...I will not.
The child extended his arms towards him slowly, as if beckoning for him to come closer.
All of the sudden it was as if his frozen lungs had remembered how to breathe but were no longer in his control. They exploded into action. His breaths came ragged and fast, his hands shaking and his head growing lighter. The thick, liquid beads pelting down on him were now running down his scalp, tingling, and running down his forehead and the back of his neck, impeding his vision. Vegeta tried to blink it away, only clouding his vision further. He willed his hand to wipe them away but it didn't move.
The boy locked eyes with Vegeta again - trapping him in his iron gaze. Speaking, his tiny, pure voice piercing through the barrage from the sky and the settling wreckage, this time in a new tongue, the language the man had used for most of his life. The boy's accent still thick and lilting "How far can you run," he tilted his head to the side "...from yourself?"
The words pierced him like a hot blade.
He barely recognized the child, after all it had been over 15 years since he had seen him... But he recognized him now. He saw himself, a frightened, frail prince. Heir to a dead race, covered in their blood. Vegeta took a step back and then as if instinct demanded it, he looked up to the sky. He didn't want to. In fact, everything in him was screaming against it, but no matter how he tried he could not stop. And that's when he saw them. Faces, thousands upon thousands of faces; every one of them one different. Dead eyes stared at him, some expressionless, others twisted and contorted with pain. There were so many, there didn't seem to be enough space in the open sky for all of them. They hung over one another as if they were crawling to reach him. Their eyes seemed to lifelessly, listlessly follow him no matter where he went. Blood dripped from their limp bodies as they swayed back in forth in the wind, smashing into each other.
He looked down at his body. He was drenched in blood, their blood - falling from the sky like rain.
There was no way out. He could not escape the faces and he could not escape the boy. Where ever he turned the boy was there. Just standing and staring at him. Expressionless. The blood rain fell harder than before, soaking him. He fell to his knees, covering his neck and head with his hands.
Suddenly pulled from his thoughts he felt the boy in front of him, drenched in the blood of the thousands of lives he has taken with his own hands. "What do you want from me?" Vegeta choked on the words. The small boy cocked his head to the side, his face blank. He spoke to Vegeta flatly pointing towards the corpes that hung like windchimes. "Where is my home? Where are their homes?"
Vegeta's pride and will had evaporated long ago, like sweat on hot skin, leaving only salt to sting his wounds. Everywhere he turned the boy would appear, always one step ahead of him. His calm demeanor was unnerving, like the unbroken surface of the water. Suddenly, without warning, it broke.
"Drist skrímsli." The child screamed, anger tearing through his small, delicate voice. He reached down and violently ripped the dirty, white haptic gloves off of Vegeta's hands.
Lifting his trembling hands up to his face he watched in horror as he lost their form behind the thick, dark coating of warm blood that seemed to ooze from them.
"Skrímsli. Skrímsli. Skrímsli. Skrímsli." the boy continued to yell as he slowly folded and melted to the ground like wet origami. Still screaming, his words could barely be understood and he began to heave broken sobs. Vegeta hesitantly reached out to place a trembling hand on the boy's crumpled form but stopped. The blood. To touch the boy, he would cover him in blood.
The child shot up as he screamed, his face contorted with pure disgust and pain "Don't touch me, you monster."
Vegeta's whole body shook with a violent start as if he had been electrocuted. Subtle and subdued even in his utter panic his eyes darted around the dark, empty room. Ears twitching with the sudden rush of adrenaline through his body as he took in his surroundings, he grounded himself.
He tried desperately to control his breathing quietly through his nose, his mouth closed tight, lips disappearing entirely.
His eyes were no longer searching the room they were rolling around frantically looking at nothing in particular as he blinked rapidly. His mind attempted to process what he had just experienced or at least thought he had. It was a dream, just a nightmare. Children have nightmares.
He scoffed at himself, hands still shaking, he slowly he rolled his stiff body off the bed.
He swung the corrugated metal hatch open wide and stepped out into the windy night air, inviting the scent of dust and sage that curled his lips. It was a refreshing reminder that he was still alive. Thick darkness blanketed the skies. There were no stars tonight, just the darkness. He inhaled deeply, letting the icy air course through him. They needed to get off this planet.
Hmm, smells like it might rain. He scoffed to himself. The night was still relatively young but he would not sleep again. He would not even try because every time he closed his eyes he saw faces, thousands upon thousands of faces.
These first two installments are the prologues to Rogue Planet, currently we are still working on it and have not established a regular publishing schedule yet.
We hope you enjoy. Feel free to comment, we'd love to hear from you!
