Author's Note: My main conflict with writing this chapter was that I wasn't
sure where Goku and Cell should end up. There are so many options that it
seemed sort of stupid to write something without considering all the
options. I briefly entertained the idea that I should make a crossover, but
that was quickly squashed. It would cheapen the story too much, so instead
our heroes are in the future. Well, the future as it stands, at least. To
address some issues with the inexplicably large power difference between
Cell and Gohan, Gohan has been training a lot, Cell has trained about half
the time since his death, but the real crux is that Cell has been at a desk
for the past five months and is out of practice. That and he was in shock
because of Goku's apparent 'death.' Yes, I do know who Sharpner is, and
yes, it was intentional. P.S. This is my worst chapter to date, or at least
the one I like the least. Eh, some might disagree, but this one has a
rather distinct lack of Cell. This is the second chapter running that he
doesn't say anything, but this one doesn't even have him conscious. I also
think the swearing quotient doubled from this chapter alone, based on the
fact that Cell and Goku swear little, if at all. By the way, take a guess
who the blond commander is. It'll be interesting to see who gets it right.
Goku had never before experienced problems with the Instant Transmission technique, as those who had taught it to him were considerably weaker than he was and the power drain was negligible. It really should have clued Goku in that those of planet Yardrat used the Akachi'wishinaru (translation into English: speed of light movement, translation into Goku- speak: Instant Transmission) sparingly, if at all. The power level of the Yardrat-jin averaged at about one-thousand. Goku after losing a significant portion of his chest had a power level of approximately half that.
Instant Transmission when used properly wasn't painful. Though it often consisted of going through areas of space most beings couldn't breath, the sheer speed at which the technique moved its users stopped any negative effects a lack of air might have on most people. Unfortunately, Goku had not used the Instant Transmission technique properly, and the resulting movement (or transmission, or hinaru, matters what race you are) felt rather to Goku like his skin was being flayed off his bones by blunt knives. When the saiyan and his unwilling passenger (well, not really unwilling, but he hadn't been asked if he wanted to come) arrived at their destination, Goku promptly passed out, due to a combination of power drain, lack of lungs, and the pain receptors in his brain being overloaded. Cell remained conscious as he had a rather high pain threshold, but he stayed crouched where he had fallen, staring blankly into nothing as his regeneration finally kicked in and his skin began to grow back, though much more slowly than usual.
It was like this that the scouting party found them. For all intended purposes, it was an odd scene. A seemingly dead man with a hole in his chest a fist could fit through lying next to a crouched figure, covered in blood who was staring at a tree. It perhaps was even more disturbing that this was hardly the strangest scene the scouts had ever come upon. They were at war after all.
Asuko walked up to the dead man, totally expecting to find him, well, dead. He wasn't, as the Calsu'jin discovered when he lay a hand across the man's mouth and felt the fallen figure breath. "Oh hell, this one's alive." Yami snorted. "Just our luck, another body to haul back to camp." Aiji raised an eyebrow. "Another?" He glanced at the bloody figure crouched on the ground. Yami grinned. "At first glance, dear brother, this one appears conscious, but when more closely examined," at this, the tallest of the Calsu'jin leaned over and snapped his fingers in the unknown albino's face, getting no response, "it becomes obvious he's comatose." Asuko snickered at Aiji's put out expression, but glancing again at the figure lying on the ground his already light skin paled. "Yami," Asuko whispered, but was ignored. The youngest of the Calsu'jin grew more insistant. "Yami, come look at this." Yami lay an uninterested glance upon the object of his subordinate's concern, but soon grew far more affected. "Impossible." "Impossible or not, Lord Piccolo isn't going to be pleased." "Or he might be," Aiji countered. "You never really know, with him." Yami snorted. "Like it matters. Anyway, Asuko, take the albino, Aiji, the corpse. I want to get out of here. There have been recent rumors of rebel activity in the area." Asuko laughed. "Come on Yami, you know no fucking rebs would show their faces so close to a base."
"Unfortunately for you, your assumption is incorrect," a voice whispered from the shadows. Aiji's eyes widened as he watched his comrade's body disintegrate, and half a dozen figures previously obscured by the undergrowth walked into view. The person in the lead was a young blond girl in her late teens, dressed in army fatigues with her hair shorn, her eyes hard and unyielding. She spoke, directing her voice towards Aiji who already had the spiky-haired man thrown over his shoulder. "Put him down, before I destroy you as well." "Aiji, follow her order and I'll kill you myself." Without looking away from Aiji, the blond girl pointed a finger towards the tallest of the Calsu'jin, and a sudden ki blast emitting from the end of her finger obliterated Yami's head. Though it seemed impossible, Aiji's eyes widened even more, but he quickly put down his cargo. The blond smiled patronizingly. "Good boy." The last of the Calsu'jin managed to salvage what was left of his courage and speak up. "So, are you going to kill me too?" A snort came from the left of the rebel leader, and the speaker, a short haired brunette in his mid-forties, stepped up, smirking slightly. "Sorry, we need someone to interrogate, or the colonel will be pissed off. Since you're all that's left, you're it, buddy." Aiji swallowed. The leader jerked her head in the direction of their now prisoner. "Tie him up, and take him back to headquarters. Sharpner, Acel, help me carry these two." The two men who she had addressed nodded, and the long-haired blond, Sharpner bent down to pick up the man Aiji had dropped, and the olive-skinned Acel walked over to the crouched albino and shook him. "Hey buddy. . . woah, weird eyes." "Red, right?" "Yeah, how'd ya know?" "He's an albino, dumbass. It's a characteristic of the sub-species. Hear they're sensitive to light too." "Sharpner, shut up and move." "Right." "Um, do albinos also bleed without being wounded?" "Acel, what are you on?" "Well, this guy's covered in blood, but he isn't hurt." "Probably isn't his blood then. Or maybe it isn't blood at all. It's bright purple." "Acel, Sharpner, Travik, we are currently less than three miles from one of the biggest Emporium bases within a light-year. Unless you don't want to ever go home again, get moving! This is the last place I want to test out our new ki shielders." "Oh shit, sorry commander." "Besides," and at this the blonde frowned slightly, "the other one is of far more interest. Looks like the Emporium got a hold of some dangerous DNA. We need to get this to the colonel. Something strange is going on."
----
Goku woke up to find himself in a healing tank, or whatever they were called. He had only been in one once before, and that had been eight years ago. The saiyan glanced down, and pretty much got what he expected. The hole in his chest looked reduced to a mere discoloration of the skin, though it still hurt a little to breath. He heard muffled voices outside the tank, then it started to drain. Goku hardly noticed, as he had finally taken notice of who was standing outside the tank and couldn't stop staring. It was him.
Goku had never before experienced problems with the Instant Transmission technique, as those who had taught it to him were considerably weaker than he was and the power drain was negligible. It really should have clued Goku in that those of planet Yardrat used the Akachi'wishinaru (translation into English: speed of light movement, translation into Goku- speak: Instant Transmission) sparingly, if at all. The power level of the Yardrat-jin averaged at about one-thousand. Goku after losing a significant portion of his chest had a power level of approximately half that.
Instant Transmission when used properly wasn't painful. Though it often consisted of going through areas of space most beings couldn't breath, the sheer speed at which the technique moved its users stopped any negative effects a lack of air might have on most people. Unfortunately, Goku had not used the Instant Transmission technique properly, and the resulting movement (or transmission, or hinaru, matters what race you are) felt rather to Goku like his skin was being flayed off his bones by blunt knives. When the saiyan and his unwilling passenger (well, not really unwilling, but he hadn't been asked if he wanted to come) arrived at their destination, Goku promptly passed out, due to a combination of power drain, lack of lungs, and the pain receptors in his brain being overloaded. Cell remained conscious as he had a rather high pain threshold, but he stayed crouched where he had fallen, staring blankly into nothing as his regeneration finally kicked in and his skin began to grow back, though much more slowly than usual.
It was like this that the scouting party found them. For all intended purposes, it was an odd scene. A seemingly dead man with a hole in his chest a fist could fit through lying next to a crouched figure, covered in blood who was staring at a tree. It perhaps was even more disturbing that this was hardly the strangest scene the scouts had ever come upon. They were at war after all.
Asuko walked up to the dead man, totally expecting to find him, well, dead. He wasn't, as the Calsu'jin discovered when he lay a hand across the man's mouth and felt the fallen figure breath. "Oh hell, this one's alive." Yami snorted. "Just our luck, another body to haul back to camp." Aiji raised an eyebrow. "Another?" He glanced at the bloody figure crouched on the ground. Yami grinned. "At first glance, dear brother, this one appears conscious, but when more closely examined," at this, the tallest of the Calsu'jin leaned over and snapped his fingers in the unknown albino's face, getting no response, "it becomes obvious he's comatose." Asuko snickered at Aiji's put out expression, but glancing again at the figure lying on the ground his already light skin paled. "Yami," Asuko whispered, but was ignored. The youngest of the Calsu'jin grew more insistant. "Yami, come look at this." Yami lay an uninterested glance upon the object of his subordinate's concern, but soon grew far more affected. "Impossible." "Impossible or not, Lord Piccolo isn't going to be pleased." "Or he might be," Aiji countered. "You never really know, with him." Yami snorted. "Like it matters. Anyway, Asuko, take the albino, Aiji, the corpse. I want to get out of here. There have been recent rumors of rebel activity in the area." Asuko laughed. "Come on Yami, you know no fucking rebs would show their faces so close to a base."
"Unfortunately for you, your assumption is incorrect," a voice whispered from the shadows. Aiji's eyes widened as he watched his comrade's body disintegrate, and half a dozen figures previously obscured by the undergrowth walked into view. The person in the lead was a young blond girl in her late teens, dressed in army fatigues with her hair shorn, her eyes hard and unyielding. She spoke, directing her voice towards Aiji who already had the spiky-haired man thrown over his shoulder. "Put him down, before I destroy you as well." "Aiji, follow her order and I'll kill you myself." Without looking away from Aiji, the blond girl pointed a finger towards the tallest of the Calsu'jin, and a sudden ki blast emitting from the end of her finger obliterated Yami's head. Though it seemed impossible, Aiji's eyes widened even more, but he quickly put down his cargo. The blond smiled patronizingly. "Good boy." The last of the Calsu'jin managed to salvage what was left of his courage and speak up. "So, are you going to kill me too?" A snort came from the left of the rebel leader, and the speaker, a short haired brunette in his mid-forties, stepped up, smirking slightly. "Sorry, we need someone to interrogate, or the colonel will be pissed off. Since you're all that's left, you're it, buddy." Aiji swallowed. The leader jerked her head in the direction of their now prisoner. "Tie him up, and take him back to headquarters. Sharpner, Acel, help me carry these two." The two men who she had addressed nodded, and the long-haired blond, Sharpner bent down to pick up the man Aiji had dropped, and the olive-skinned Acel walked over to the crouched albino and shook him. "Hey buddy. . . woah, weird eyes." "Red, right?" "Yeah, how'd ya know?" "He's an albino, dumbass. It's a characteristic of the sub-species. Hear they're sensitive to light too." "Sharpner, shut up and move." "Right." "Um, do albinos also bleed without being wounded?" "Acel, what are you on?" "Well, this guy's covered in blood, but he isn't hurt." "Probably isn't his blood then. Or maybe it isn't blood at all. It's bright purple." "Acel, Sharpner, Travik, we are currently less than three miles from one of the biggest Emporium bases within a light-year. Unless you don't want to ever go home again, get moving! This is the last place I want to test out our new ki shielders." "Oh shit, sorry commander." "Besides," and at this the blonde frowned slightly, "the other one is of far more interest. Looks like the Emporium got a hold of some dangerous DNA. We need to get this to the colonel. Something strange is going on."
----
Goku woke up to find himself in a healing tank, or whatever they were called. He had only been in one once before, and that had been eight years ago. The saiyan glanced down, and pretty much got what he expected. The hole in his chest looked reduced to a mere discoloration of the skin, though it still hurt a little to breath. He heard muffled voices outside the tank, then it started to drain. Goku hardly noticed, as he had finally taken notice of who was standing outside the tank and couldn't stop staring. It was him.