A/N: Here's my Merry Christmas present, from me to all of you! And don't tell me you don't celebrate Christmas, I'm not that stupid to think everyone does. It's the thought of well wishes and fun holidays that count, right?

Anywho, on with the fic!

Chapter 3 - Damn Brat...

'Mystic' escaped the Son house as quickly as he could. He knew he wouldn't be able to last long on this unfamiliar planet with the ki blockers in place, but he needed to be somewhere away from those people so he could think.

The Sons, as they had called themselves collectively, seemed to be isolated from other beings such as themselves (he wasn't sure if the term was earthling or earthian, and he wouldn't try either until he knew). A large patch of grass surrounded their modestly sized home, and the trees around this circumference seemed to act as a natural wall to anything or anyone that passed through the forest. The trees were tall and large, the foliage effectively blotting out the sun, becoming darker the further you went in. Perfect.

Mystic noted that the deeper he went into the darkening woods, the more the trees changed. Around the edge of the Sons' property, the giant plants were straight, uniform and indistinguishable. However, after just a few minutes of walking, the trees varied not only in size, but in color, shape, even different leaves. He soon came across a tree that had grown at an odd angle, creating a sort of hump before extending straight up. Deciding here would be as good a place as any to rest and think, he sat on the hump and leaned against the straight bark. He was still shirtless and shoeless.

The first thought to stumble into his mind was the family that had taken him in for the time being. 'But if that she-beast has anything to say about it,' he thought with a grimace, 'I'll be out within days.' Son Chichi baffled him. From societies he had observed, almost every one had a male as the leader of each unit or 'family'. Others had no such system of parentage, like the Saiyans. Females were either inferior or were of equal status to the males. But this was the first time he'd ever seen a unit being governed by a woman, and if he were honest with himself, he would admit that she scared him just a little bit. Despite the power Son Goku had shown him earlier when he was in that room, the same man quailed under the glare of his mate, or 'wife', as these people called each other when they were matched together. Even the child, a young boy that couldn't be older then seven, was completely obedient to her demands. That woman ruled her household with an iron fist, and everyone in there knew it.

While Chichi would seem stern and cold to the casual observer, Mystic could see the affection in her eyes whenever she glanced at her mate and child. He could tell that she was the sort that would jump into certain death if it meant she could save those she loved. Of course, the only thing he could detect when she looked at him was pure loathing. It didn't bother him. Actually he was used to that by now. 'Not like it's my first time being hated,' he thought, snorting in amusement. Whenever he met a new person, there were two emotions he was generally met with: anger and fear. Hatred and loathing was not a new thing for him by far. But still, considering the man in orange had told him that it was up to her when these blasted things came off, he found her current attitude displeasing.

At the thought of the ki blockers, he once more brought his hands up to see the metal bands, as if the mere act of glaring would cause them to fall off. These weren't like handcuffs he'd seen before. Those he'd practiced slipping in and out of. But these damn pieces were pressed right into his skin. If he wanted to slip them off, he'd most likely have to lose a few more fingers and deglove his hands (1).

In his rather short life, he'd experienced many things. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life. He was responsible for the deaths of countless beings and the destruction of hundreds of planets. Most seasoned veterans had been in the regeneration tank fewer times then he had. His best friends and closest comrades had been killed in front of him. After all that, and still somewhat sane, he thought there was nothing short of death that could be worse. But being deprived of his power… His strength had been his one constant in life. Sure, it was always growing, or after a battle there'd be less then usual, but at least he had it, and what he had he could always use. No matter what, his power was there, to fall back on, to be secure. But this time, he had the smallest amount of ki he'd ever had, probably smaller then what he had at birth.

He knew he wasn't a good person. He had done too much to ever be considered thus. When he died he fully expected to be sent to HFIL and meet his ancestors that also definitely made it there. In fact, he was looking forward to it so that he could beat the shit out of Radditz for all eternity. But for his life, Frieza's destruction was supposed to be his retribution. His saving grace, the one act that would at least partially make up for all the horrors he had caused. He had finally killed the bastard, losing the lives of his friends, his savior from his chasers, and almost his own life. And after all that, after ridding the universe of its most terrible tyrant and surviving, he was clapped in irons. Like a criminal. A common mongrel. Not like the savior of the universe. He knew he'd done a lot to deserve this, but it all seemed wrong. He didn't come here to destroy the planet or hurt anyone. That part of his life was over. But here, these people knew of his kind… they knew of his power, and already he had been judged. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

I do deserve this.

You do not.

I do. I don't deserve to disrupt this planet, to live peacefully the rest of my life. I've done too much. I've killed too much. I… I enjoyed it too much.

You only enjoyed it when you didn't know any better. But you do know and have for many years. You cannot blame a killer for being a killer if that is all he knows how to do.

But that doesn't excuse the killer.

True, it doesn't. But neither can it condemn him wholly. It is also the fault of the creator of the killer, and he has met his end. And at the killer's hands of all things.

That still doesn't exc-

I never said it did! But neither does it mean you can mope about for eternity. And neither can you go about killing yourself, either. It would be honor less, and an honor less suicide is a coward's suicide. What Frieza's death does is clean your slate. It doesn't fix the past, but it allows it to be forgotten. Stop thinking about it. Remember the good times.

That's just it. I don't have good times to remember.

Then you've just been given a chance to make some, haven't you?

I guess…

There, you admit it. Victory yet again.

Now what?

Hm?

Since you have proven your genius over my primitive and pessimistic thinking, what do we do now?

Look for father, perhaps.

I thought we went over this this morning.

We did. I just let it be. And I wouldn't put it past Frieza to lie just to yank your chain.

Frieza had better things to do then to lie to a lowly half-breed. Father's dead.

A lowly half-breed? Since when have you referred to yourself in such a way? And why the hell should you listen to that rat lizard, especially since now he's dead himself?

Why shouldn't I listen? Somehow father was supposed to survive a fight against fucking Freiza when he couldn't even win a fight against another saiyan? I'm supposed to believe that a man who couldn't beat a weakling like Radditz somehow managed to get the power to defeat a member of one of the strongest families in the universe?!

…

I didn't think so. Father is dead and buried. Mother probably is as well. Besides, I don't even remember what they looked like or where they were from. Even if they were miraculously alive and I did meet them again, we'd be strangers.

But-

Didn't you say to forget my past? My parents are my past, so they will now be forgotten.

That is not-

Crack!

Mystic's eyes snapped open, not moving an inch otherwise. It wouldn't do to tip off his would-be attacker that he was aware of their presence. That crack had been a little too close for comfort, and berated himself for not noticing the intruder earlier. He tended to get more then a little sidetracked when it came to talking to himself.

That's the first sign of madness, you know.

Shut up.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find out where this other person was. He may not be able to sense ki like others he knew, but there were more ways then one to tell where a person was. The sound of their breathing, a swish of hair, the sound of clothing moving, their smell… the possibilities were endless.

There, a boot on dry ground, almost silent. Only beings with sensitive hearing could possibly hope to hear it. He kept his eyes closed, though he was becoming decidedly nervous. That sounded as if the person had come directly in front of him. He couldn't possibly be that out of whack due to his lack of ki, could he?

He opened his eyes.

It took every ounce of control not to jump or yell. As it was, his eyes just widened in surprise before narrowing into a glare.

Damn brat.

The Son child was in front of him, his head tilted slightly and staring at him as if he were the most interesting thing in the world. The boy wore a long sleeved version of his father's outfit… a 'gi' they called it. He was almost a miniature mirror image of his father, and personally Mystic found it very creepy. Their names were even similar to one another's. What was his name again? Goken? Gohan? Gotu? Something along those lines. Who cares? The important thing was why the brat was here… with him… alone… most likely without his parents' knowledge…?

Fuck. This couldn't end well.

"What do you want, brat?"

The boy looked down on the ground, arms behind his back, and he began to rock back and forth on his heels.

"You look like Mr. Vegeta when you do that?"

"When I do what?"

"Glare and talk like that." Mystic's eye twitched. Was the brat comparing him to an earthian? No way in hell was he…

Wait a minute… Vegeta? As in, the royal name Vegeta? As in, the name of the last living Prince of the Saiyans, Prince Vegeta the MCDLXV?!(2) He'd only met the man once before, years ago at the age where everything was faded and fuzzy. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. A nearly extinct race with less then ten survivors and one ends up on the same planet as him? It.. it was almost impossible to think about! He filed the information away and turned back to the situation at hand: getting the brat away from him.

"That doesn't answer my question. What do you want?"

"I want to play with you."

The innocence and sheer absurdness of the statement threw him off his train of thought, and he blinked rapidly a few times before he managed to wrap his mind around the words. Play? With a child? When he'd been specifically told if he touched him he died? Fuck that.

"No."

This time it was the kid's turn to reel at the answer. He stared at Mystic as if he'd never been denied a game in his life.

"But.. but why?!" he asked, eyes widening by the second. Mystic sensed danger, but he didn't know of what kind, just that it came from the kid and it scared the crap out of him.

"Because I don't want to."

The kid just stared. And stared. And stared. Just when Mystic was about to poke him to see if he was in fact still alive, it happened.

A sniffle. Followed by another. And another.

Fuck.

"Y-y-you don't like m-me?" the brat managed to get out, tears appearing at the corners of his eyes. Mystic was almost in panic mode. He didn't know what to do! His expertise in children was close to zero. No, it was zero! He looked around for anything, anything that could get him away or stop the brat from crying. He looked down at his wrists. Maybe…

"Woah, calm down kid. I didn't mean it like that." The kid sniffed, bringing an arm up to wipe at an eye where a stray tear had fallen.

"Y-you didn't?"

"No. Uh.. you see… you're parents told me I couldn't play with you until I can get these off." He brought up his wrists, the detested ki blockers easily visible. The kid almost instantly stopped crying (Mystic felt like strangling the kid for making him freak out about false tears). He came closer, inspecting the pieces of metal like he'd never seen them before.

"Like a game?" the brat asked, now so close that Mystic could feel his breath on his arm.

"Yes, like a game." Mystic rolled his eyes. He guessed, in a sense, it was true. A game of "How Long it Takes the Bitch to Like Me".

"So if you got them off you could play with me?"

"Suuuuurrrreeeee….." In theory anyway. By the time the blocks were off he'd be too far away for the kid to even find him, let alone play a game with him.

"Then I'll help!" the kid exclaimed with a big grin on his face, seizing his left wrist.

"Wait, no kid!" But before Mystic could even slap the kid away, the pint sized brat had his wrist in a death lock, grabbed the ki blocker, and pulled.

Almost immediately there was a reaction. The ki blockers seemed to tighten of their own accord, to a point where even his bones were hurting at the pressure. But worse then the tightening was the excruciating pain as the blockers began to rapidly drain what precious little ki he still had. They were like little tiny metallic vampires, sucking his life force away.

He looked at the kid, and saw that he had jumped away, looking as if he were nursing his hand. The boy was terrified, if his wide eyes and pale skin were any indication. But even as he looked at him, the corners of his vision began to darken. This could very well kill him. Damn brat. He grit his teeth, and mustered what little strength he still possessed.

"Go.." he ground out, but the kid didn't move, still staring at him in horrified fascination. And Mystic couldn't find himself to care. As his eyes rolled backwards and he fell to the earth, he had one last conscious thought.

That harpy will be happy at least…

(1) Degloved, in the sense I was using, means to have the skin removed. I got the story from my mom years ago when she told me about this guy who got his hand caught in a machine and was 'degloved' from his elbow to his fingertips. Ow…

(2) In case you are unfamiliar with roman numerals, I think that translates to Prince Vegeta the One thousand four hundred sixty-fifth. Yeah, lot of Veggies running around.

A/N: I think old readers will notice a slight change, eh? No 'Tag!' but 'I'm gonna die!' Though the old story was sappy and cute, this one fit better, I think. Tell me how you all liked it!

Sorry about the slight lateness (my goal was to get it out by the seventeenth). First a four day power outage (huge windstorm!) and then a few days visiting families for holiday, not much time to write. So, here it is! Next one will be up next month!

REVIEW!!!