Author's Note: If you don't understand this chapter, go back to
chapter nine and read it again. I completely rewrote it, so don't complain
about the lack of updates. I updated at the beginning of the month. FFN
just didn't notice. I decided the teaser at the end of nine wouldn't be
fully explored until I finish this fic, for though the other story with
also be AU, it won't be related to this one. However, another snippet is at
the end of this chapter. Maybe I'll just do that until everyone who reads
this is insane. I realized after writing this chapter that I write Cell POV
a lot better than Gohan POV, for whatever reason. I know the readers
probably wanted a Cell/Gohan confrontation, but too bad. I didn't feel up
to writing it, but the chapter still turned out pretty good, I think.
The only comparable feeling, really, was the time when he knew that Gohan had become more powerful than he was. A feeling of complete helplessness, interlaced with a feeling of complete stupidity. The stupid feeling was less pronounced this time around, but the intensified helplessness more than made up for it. He had been saving his 'off' hours for five months now, and had been prepared to finally escape the drudgery of paperwork that he had miraculously caught up on (a first in history, interestingly enough), when King Enma decided to take a vacation.
"I've read your file, Enma! You don't take vacations! You've NEVER taken a vacation! I don't think you're even authorized to leave your desk!" "That's because I've never had an assistant who is perfectly capable of taking over for me. The Grand Kai is impressed, you know. Never before has anyone ever been caught up in the paperwork before! It only lasted ten seconds, of course, but it's still a first in history." (I know. That's why I deserve a vacation more than you, you hulking simpleton.) King Enma rambled on, oblivious to Cell's thoughts. "We once had thirteen thousand accountants working for us at the same time, and they weren't half as fast as you are." "Shouldn't I get a reward or something?" "But you are being rewarded! Never has anyone besides me ever held the position as Lord of the Otherworld, even temporarily. Normally, a former villain such as yourself wouldn't even be considered for the position, but you have been proven to be very trustworthy." "Um, this is very flattering King Enma, but I was about to take off to spar with Goku for a few months, and. . ." "I have the right to revoke your vacation privileges, Cell." "No you don't! I read the contract, and. . ." "Too bad you didn't read the back, then." Cell's mouth snapped shut. The demi-god smiled smugly. "I'm not as stupid as you thought, hmmm?" (So that witch Baba did write the contract, after all. Damn it!) "Oh, don't worry, Cell. I'm only going to be gone for a week, and you will be duly compensated. This duty isn't stated explicitly in your contract, so I decided to take fifty years off of your tenure."
That had been about the only highlight of the episode. Goku had come by about fifteen minutes after Enma had left for some planet with several beaches, and hadn't been any happier than the android to learn their sparring would have to be put off. He had still come by periodically during the week, if not to keep Cell company, than for the fact that there was no one else to talk to. Cell wouldn't exactly call Goku a friend, but he really didn't interact with anyone else except on a professional level, and Goku's attitude was. . . refreshing.
The fusion technique they had learned in a matter of hours, and had only taken another day to perfect. That was several years ago. However, they had never actually performed it. From how the Metamerize had described it, Cell didn't want Goku rummaging around in his head. Besides, the technique itself was the most ridiculous looking thing since the Ginyu Force. (Unbeknownst to Cell, the fusion would be overtaken by the Great Saiyaman in sheer absurdity in a dozen years or so, when the younger son of Goku decided that he wanted to be a superhero. Luckily for those with fashion sense everywhere, he was soon talked out of it by his best friend, Trunks. But that's a different story. Thank Kami for small favors.)
Ever since then, Cell went up to the Grand Kai's planet after work every day, but both the android and the saiyan had been interested in the prospect of exploring Otherworld, so Cell hadn't sparred in five months in preparation so they would have enough time for the journey. Of course, Enma's little vacation had ruined that.
There were several patterns that seemed to recycle over and over with newly dead people. Children either thought it was "cool" or didn't understand what death was, and adults, except for those with terminal, long term diseases, couldn't believe they were dead. The old and the infirm were usually happy about it, because they had been in pain so long. The suicides. . . well, death didn't improve those attitudes much. It was kind of fun to deal with the adults, though. It was easy to take some pleasure in informing the poor saps that yes, they wouldn't see their families again until they were dead, and no, they couldn't make a deal with him to come back to life.
Surprisingly, who went where was up to Cell's digression. The android had thought he would get instructions, but no one else had ever held this position besides Enma, so it was perhaps NOT surprising that the demi-god didn't have a list of do's and don'ts saved on his hard-drive. Of course, it probably wouldn't be in Cell's best interest to send the pope to Hell, but it sure was fun to send that human president there for "mass genocide."
As far as it went, it was more interesting than paperwork, and there were several hours left before King Enma came back from vacation and took over again when Cell got the shock of his life, or lack thereof.
The demi-saiyan Gohan was dead.
--*--
The line was shorter than Gohan had thought it would be. He had assumed that all the dead came to this checking station, but only a few dozen souls were ahead of him in line, and they were just that; souls. Out of all of them, only Gohan possessed a body. This was reassuring, as from what Piccolo had told him, he had gleaned that only the heroes and the villains retained their bodies after death. Gohan remembered reading somewhere that suicide was a cardinal sin, but he doubted it was enough to null all the heroics he had done over the years, so. . . he was going to heaven, then.
The line moved quickly, and Gohan found himself in front of Enma's desk in only a few minutes. Only Enma wasn't there. This was puzzling, as more than one source had informed him that Enma was a huge red giant in a purple suit. Hard to overlook something like that. Then, something moved. A pale, white-haired man in a black Armani suit with startlingly red eyes, and a halo (?) stared over the top of the desk at him, holding a rather thick folder. There was silence for several seconds.
"I was told that King Enma would tell me where to go. . . um. . ." A blue ogre in a tie and short sleeves walked up to him. "A body? Well then, you hardly need the executive's permission to go where you belong, young man." "But King Enma. . ." ". . . is on vacation presently. He will be back in a few hours, but you hardly need to wait around." "Vacation?" (How can the God of the Dead go on vacation?) The ogre's rather condescending tone gained some fervor. "Oh yes, it is rather unusual, but that just goes to prove that it was the best decision Enma ever made, appointing the executive a position here. The checking station hasn't been run this effectively in, well, ever! Just goes to show what delegating to competent people will do for a business, especially one as assiduous as our own. This is the first vacation Enma has ever had. It will do him a world of good."
Gohan was stunned. Delegating? Business? This ogre made the placing of souls sound like a post-office. Which it actually kind of was, when he thought about it on an analytical level. Hopefully a soul wouldn't get lost in the mail.
The "executive" was still staring at him, folder still in hand. If Gohan squinted (and he had to squint, seeing as the desk was about three stories high), he could make out his name at the top. The ogre tried to hurry him along. "Come now, young man, we have to get you to the airport. The next plane leaves in ten minutes, and you wouldn't want to miss it!"
Gohan let the ogre push him towards the door, but he could still feel the executive's eyes on him, penetrating, and not in a good way. Even as the plane lifted off, Gohan could still feel the eyes boring into his back. Those red eyes. . . where had he seen eyes like that before?
--*--
It took every grain of Cell's willpower to stand still and keep his aura under control. He hadn't believed it. Gohan couldn't be dead. If death had to take the demi-saiyan, it should be when he was 150 years old, white- haired and frail. Baring that, Cell strangling the demi-saiyan until those accursed emerald eyes glazed over and that flaxen hair faded again into ebony black. Rage filled him, but he refused to let that show, though the android couldn't prevent his hands from clenching. What calamity had befallen the demi-saiyan? Disease? Or worse yet, some other fighter had seized what was so rightfully his! No! It, it was. . .
Cell hadn't figured what it was exactly by the time he realized that Gohan wasn't there anymore. The demi-saiyan hadn't even recognized him, but that was only a splinter on the fire as of present. It occurred to him five seconds later that he did in fact have the authority to send Gohan to Hell, if only for the next few hours, but that thought was tossed away as petty at its worst, and provisional in the best of circumstances, not to mention rather detrimental towards his career. Not that his "career," as it were, was of the utmost importance at the moment, but the last thing Cell wanted to do was do something he would regret later. That had happened far too often already.
(Not to mention Goku's limitless ability to forget anything bad about anyone will surely be tried if I sent his son to Hell.) Not that he cared about Goku. . . all right, the saiyan's opinion did matter more than anyone else's, but Cell had a low opinion of mortals in general, so it wasn't as great an accomplishment as one might think.
(Why am I wondering? These files are omniscient, for all practical purposes. Surely they'll have. . .) and they did. The android wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh or cry. He had been right all along. Gohan was absolutely nothing like his father. Goku was not nearly so much a fool.
Elsewhere. . .
The kai stood on a planet that he had thought he could forget forever. Fate was not so kind as to allow this, of course. This place held bad memories, and coming back, especially as he was, hurt. Burned inside like Hell when the demon king felt especially vicious. There was no time to reminisce, however. There was much to be done, and he could sense there were those who would interfere. That would never do.
11. Author's Notes:
The only comparable feeling, really, was the time when he knew that Gohan had become more powerful than he was. A feeling of complete helplessness, interlaced with a feeling of complete stupidity. The stupid feeling was less pronounced this time around, but the intensified helplessness more than made up for it. He had been saving his 'off' hours for five months now, and had been prepared to finally escape the drudgery of paperwork that he had miraculously caught up on (a first in history, interestingly enough), when King Enma decided to take a vacation.
"I've read your file, Enma! You don't take vacations! You've NEVER taken a vacation! I don't think you're even authorized to leave your desk!" "That's because I've never had an assistant who is perfectly capable of taking over for me. The Grand Kai is impressed, you know. Never before has anyone ever been caught up in the paperwork before! It only lasted ten seconds, of course, but it's still a first in history." (I know. That's why I deserve a vacation more than you, you hulking simpleton.) King Enma rambled on, oblivious to Cell's thoughts. "We once had thirteen thousand accountants working for us at the same time, and they weren't half as fast as you are." "Shouldn't I get a reward or something?" "But you are being rewarded! Never has anyone besides me ever held the position as Lord of the Otherworld, even temporarily. Normally, a former villain such as yourself wouldn't even be considered for the position, but you have been proven to be very trustworthy." "Um, this is very flattering King Enma, but I was about to take off to spar with Goku for a few months, and. . ." "I have the right to revoke your vacation privileges, Cell." "No you don't! I read the contract, and. . ." "Too bad you didn't read the back, then." Cell's mouth snapped shut. The demi-god smiled smugly. "I'm not as stupid as you thought, hmmm?" (So that witch Baba did write the contract, after all. Damn it!) "Oh, don't worry, Cell. I'm only going to be gone for a week, and you will be duly compensated. This duty isn't stated explicitly in your contract, so I decided to take fifty years off of your tenure."
That had been about the only highlight of the episode. Goku had come by about fifteen minutes after Enma had left for some planet with several beaches, and hadn't been any happier than the android to learn their sparring would have to be put off. He had still come by periodically during the week, if not to keep Cell company, than for the fact that there was no one else to talk to. Cell wouldn't exactly call Goku a friend, but he really didn't interact with anyone else except on a professional level, and Goku's attitude was. . . refreshing.
The fusion technique they had learned in a matter of hours, and had only taken another day to perfect. That was several years ago. However, they had never actually performed it. From how the Metamerize had described it, Cell didn't want Goku rummaging around in his head. Besides, the technique itself was the most ridiculous looking thing since the Ginyu Force. (Unbeknownst to Cell, the fusion would be overtaken by the Great Saiyaman in sheer absurdity in a dozen years or so, when the younger son of Goku decided that he wanted to be a superhero. Luckily for those with fashion sense everywhere, he was soon talked out of it by his best friend, Trunks. But that's a different story. Thank Kami for small favors.)
Ever since then, Cell went up to the Grand Kai's planet after work every day, but both the android and the saiyan had been interested in the prospect of exploring Otherworld, so Cell hadn't sparred in five months in preparation so they would have enough time for the journey. Of course, Enma's little vacation had ruined that.
There were several patterns that seemed to recycle over and over with newly dead people. Children either thought it was "cool" or didn't understand what death was, and adults, except for those with terminal, long term diseases, couldn't believe they were dead. The old and the infirm were usually happy about it, because they had been in pain so long. The suicides. . . well, death didn't improve those attitudes much. It was kind of fun to deal with the adults, though. It was easy to take some pleasure in informing the poor saps that yes, they wouldn't see their families again until they were dead, and no, they couldn't make a deal with him to come back to life.
Surprisingly, who went where was up to Cell's digression. The android had thought he would get instructions, but no one else had ever held this position besides Enma, so it was perhaps NOT surprising that the demi-god didn't have a list of do's and don'ts saved on his hard-drive. Of course, it probably wouldn't be in Cell's best interest to send the pope to Hell, but it sure was fun to send that human president there for "mass genocide."
As far as it went, it was more interesting than paperwork, and there were several hours left before King Enma came back from vacation and took over again when Cell got the shock of his life, or lack thereof.
The demi-saiyan Gohan was dead.
--*--
The line was shorter than Gohan had thought it would be. He had assumed that all the dead came to this checking station, but only a few dozen souls were ahead of him in line, and they were just that; souls. Out of all of them, only Gohan possessed a body. This was reassuring, as from what Piccolo had told him, he had gleaned that only the heroes and the villains retained their bodies after death. Gohan remembered reading somewhere that suicide was a cardinal sin, but he doubted it was enough to null all the heroics he had done over the years, so. . . he was going to heaven, then.
The line moved quickly, and Gohan found himself in front of Enma's desk in only a few minutes. Only Enma wasn't there. This was puzzling, as more than one source had informed him that Enma was a huge red giant in a purple suit. Hard to overlook something like that. Then, something moved. A pale, white-haired man in a black Armani suit with startlingly red eyes, and a halo (?) stared over the top of the desk at him, holding a rather thick folder. There was silence for several seconds.
"I was told that King Enma would tell me where to go. . . um. . ." A blue ogre in a tie and short sleeves walked up to him. "A body? Well then, you hardly need the executive's permission to go where you belong, young man." "But King Enma. . ." ". . . is on vacation presently. He will be back in a few hours, but you hardly need to wait around." "Vacation?" (How can the God of the Dead go on vacation?) The ogre's rather condescending tone gained some fervor. "Oh yes, it is rather unusual, but that just goes to prove that it was the best decision Enma ever made, appointing the executive a position here. The checking station hasn't been run this effectively in, well, ever! Just goes to show what delegating to competent people will do for a business, especially one as assiduous as our own. This is the first vacation Enma has ever had. It will do him a world of good."
Gohan was stunned. Delegating? Business? This ogre made the placing of souls sound like a post-office. Which it actually kind of was, when he thought about it on an analytical level. Hopefully a soul wouldn't get lost in the mail.
The "executive" was still staring at him, folder still in hand. If Gohan squinted (and he had to squint, seeing as the desk was about three stories high), he could make out his name at the top. The ogre tried to hurry him along. "Come now, young man, we have to get you to the airport. The next plane leaves in ten minutes, and you wouldn't want to miss it!"
Gohan let the ogre push him towards the door, but he could still feel the executive's eyes on him, penetrating, and not in a good way. Even as the plane lifted off, Gohan could still feel the eyes boring into his back. Those red eyes. . . where had he seen eyes like that before?
--*--
It took every grain of Cell's willpower to stand still and keep his aura under control. He hadn't believed it. Gohan couldn't be dead. If death had to take the demi-saiyan, it should be when he was 150 years old, white- haired and frail. Baring that, Cell strangling the demi-saiyan until those accursed emerald eyes glazed over and that flaxen hair faded again into ebony black. Rage filled him, but he refused to let that show, though the android couldn't prevent his hands from clenching. What calamity had befallen the demi-saiyan? Disease? Or worse yet, some other fighter had seized what was so rightfully his! No! It, it was. . .
Cell hadn't figured what it was exactly by the time he realized that Gohan wasn't there anymore. The demi-saiyan hadn't even recognized him, but that was only a splinter on the fire as of present. It occurred to him five seconds later that he did in fact have the authority to send Gohan to Hell, if only for the next few hours, but that thought was tossed away as petty at its worst, and provisional in the best of circumstances, not to mention rather detrimental towards his career. Not that his "career," as it were, was of the utmost importance at the moment, but the last thing Cell wanted to do was do something he would regret later. That had happened far too often already.
(Not to mention Goku's limitless ability to forget anything bad about anyone will surely be tried if I sent his son to Hell.) Not that he cared about Goku. . . all right, the saiyan's opinion did matter more than anyone else's, but Cell had a low opinion of mortals in general, so it wasn't as great an accomplishment as one might think.
(Why am I wondering? These files are omniscient, for all practical purposes. Surely they'll have. . .) and they did. The android wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh or cry. He had been right all along. Gohan was absolutely nothing like his father. Goku was not nearly so much a fool.
Elsewhere. . .
The kai stood on a planet that he had thought he could forget forever. Fate was not so kind as to allow this, of course. This place held bad memories, and coming back, especially as he was, hurt. Burned inside like Hell when the demon king felt especially vicious. There was no time to reminisce, however. There was much to be done, and he could sense there were those who would interfere. That would never do.
11. Author's Notes: