"Evil does exist. And no true definition can be found to why a person would want to be evil or not. However, no one, not even the cruellest maniac nor the most brutal manslayer, is entirely evil. A heart always turns to stone; surely has it once been filled with emotion, regardless of how long ago this might have been. Not a single entity can be free of simple feelings such as friendliness, compassion or even love. And all are able to change. All, with the exception of one: the Reiniku no Hyakuhei; the body and soul of all evils. Better referred to as the Hakaisha, or Destroyer, this creature has no need to seek evil; it is pure evil."
"As the prophecy states, the Hakaisha will rise when the balance between the Naibunjisen and Uwanjisen is disturbed. It will then seek the right moment to spread Makura, total darkness, across both worlds. If this Destroyer rises, may the gods help us. If this Destroyer rises, let us pray for the Kyuusaisha; the Saviour. The Saviour will be the only one able to stop the Destroyer ….
Light can defeat darkness, no matter how weak, it can. It has been, and always will be, that way."
---Legends of a Forgotten Time. Ch. 3: "The Ancient Prophecy"---
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BOOK II"Evil Can Only Exist If You Believe In It"
Tale Eighteen---The Creation---
Rating: M
Spit you in the face
Unbiased, undefined
Slit your throat
Dotingly and refined
Cut through your heart
Found nothing but a shell
Of boundless emptiness
I look at you with a dirty face
Please, just please don't turn off the light
I want to be that tough
I want to open up
It's sickening
I know
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He sat quietly, staring without interest. His entire appearance was thick with arrogance as well as boredom. The dancers that performed their skills without sulking from across the room, were given but a glance from time to time. The Overlord was bored, and complemented such conclusion by yawning excessively.
The massive door at the far end of the throne room moved, shaking up the burnished marble floor when it opened. Hesitantly, a young man looked over the edge of the doorframe. Darken paid no attention to the man and leaned his chin onto his hand palm, growling with tedium.
Then, the youth entered the throne room and rushed for Darken swiftly, kneeling before the Overlord's feet. The boy was no older than in his late teens, his lab coat indicated he was one of the imperialist scientists.
"Overlord!"
Darken snorted and brushed his eyebrow with an index-finger, not revealing any indication of interest. "For your own sake," he grunted irritably, "Get on your feet and spit out whatever it is you are planning to bore me with this time."
The boy looked up frightfully and seemed at a loss for words. His blood-red eyes revealed confusion, much to Darken's frustration.
"Get on with it!"
The youth raised himself up though careful not to dishonour his superior. "The perfect warrior is to be expected. It has already passed the other subjects in initial yet critical phase and has reached a stage of reasonable viability."
Catching the Overlord's interest, the old man turned towards the scientist, rubbing his chin in fascination. "Which means…"
Understanding his master did not comprehend what he had meant by such words he explained himself immediately. "Which means a healthy infant will be born within the next time period."
The Overlord raised his eyebrow. "And of which time period are we talking?"
"Well My Lord," the youngster replied cautiously, "Saiyajin expectancy last six standard months, which are close to four Chikura-sei moon cycles. Chikura-jin carry their spawn for sixteen moon-cycles…"
Darken brushed his shoulder length hair from his face and sighed impatiently. "I require an answer not a full-length analysis."
"Yes Sir," his subjacent apologized, "We estimated it would take approximately ten months with a maximum of twenty-six."
"Twenty-six!" Darken sneered, "I have no intention of waiting for the Perfect Warrior that long!"
"My Lord if I may be so blunt," the scientist interrupted, "Experiments have indicated that through genetic alteration and flux-aversion in larger cell clusters we will be able to influence the brainwaves inducted within the subject substantially."
"In other words," he continued, "We can direct its thought patterns."
"You mean, I can direct its thought patterns, do you not?"
"Yes, sir."
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Fall could not understand why Uyra had given up on Fringe and Nita. He knew how important the youngsters were for her and that was his main motivation to suspect there was more to it than Uyra let him in on.
The night was cool and through a small breach where two mountain rims met, he could distinguish distant stars shining down on him. The winds danced above him but the cold would not fall into the cave. It had been long since he had been outside, it had been long since he had smelled the warmth of the morning sun chasing away the forest mists.
He sighed.
Uyra had changed. She was quieter somehow and he wondered whether Fringe and Nita's capturing had had anything to do with it. He thought it might but he feared there was something else that had gotten to Uyra. Had he something to do with it? Was he out of line for loving her, for desiring her? Had he been wrong to hold her as close as he did? Was it too soon?
If he were honest, he could actually determine what it was that frustrated her ever so dreadfully that she could no longer find the strength to fight.
For something prevented her from having a child of her own. It wasn't the dearth, the lack of nutrition or simply the harsh conditions in general. Fall didn't know how Chikura religion worked but he was quite sure the Gods themselves had more than something to do with it. And he wondered why. He wondered why Uyra wasn't allowed to keep the children she bore.
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It wasn't long before Darken insisted upon seeing the actual subject of his current interest. The Perfect Warrior was in creation, after so many years he had actually thought his imperial scientific staff would never succeed. He was pleased to hear of the creature's progress in analysing strategic plans and increments in competitive knowledge before even having comprehended the patterns of speech or the written word. The subject's brain structure was remarkable, to say the least. It was still in a foetal stage yet showed no distinguished difficulty with pointing out even the most complex feudal configurations.
But its incompetence considered understanding the psychological side of warfare was absurd to Darken's inference. Darken had insisted upon giving the Perfect Warrior not only a strategic development but also psychologically. Yet it continued refusing to respond to any kind of stimulus from this side of her brain. It was almost as if this part was developing on its own, unbiased by even the harshest form of treatment, from electro shock therapy to laser surgery.
"Let me see it."
Surprised to see the Overlord in these dim compounds, the dark haired scientist looked up to his master, not knowing what to say, he blurted out but a few words. "B-but Overlord… you can't possibly go in there. The experiments conducted in there require the highest form of concentration. Save that, sterile surrounding is necessary. Interference of third parties is definitely not equitable."
"You dare questioning me? My bidding is certainly not debatable."
"Yes, milord. My apologies, milord."
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The Perfect Warrior was female. Mentally, women had always had the advantage, even if Darken would deny prolifically. Females were blessed with willpower uncanny to anything a man could ever acquire. Physically on the other hand, they were considered weaker, though for this creature it would be of no difference.
To Darken, the difference would be all the greater.
Without a surrogate mother to foster the child, male or female hormones could be provided at will. The embryo would be as female as the scientists would want her to be. To the Overlord, such knowledge was not supplied thus Darken had no idea the Perfect Warrior's gender had been purposefully, even deliberately feminine. It was one of the minute but oh so vital schemes the scientific staff had generated to seize the never-ending onslaught the Overlord brought upon their once peaceful planet.
For Darken's downfall would be at the hands of this unborn creature, the Perfect Warrior.
But the scientists were endowed with concern by her Saiyajin heritage. Due to lack of knowledge, it was impossible for them to re-enact what happened in her brain cells from the moment she was just over fifteen months old. The problem could be solved if they had had access to a living, adult specimen. Truth was however, not long after the Saiyajin genetic sample had been gathered, Vejiita-sei – home of Saiyajin, was destroyed and its inhabitants had gone down with it.
Either of the scientists knew little or nothing of Saiyajin physiology. They knew enough to create a powerful hybrid but when it came to channelling the right stimulus, they were definitely ignorant.
How the creature's Saiyajin heritage would leave its marks in her future development, all they could do was make one assumption after the other.
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Darken was impatient.
It took much longer for the unborn to outgrow its embryonic stage than it took any average Chikurajin. This of course indicated the being wasn't normal, in fact, it was far from normal.
Apart from the excessively long incubation period, prior to a possible release from the tube filled with various stimulating fluids she was contained in, none could sense any kind of energy emitted from the child from the moment it had officially become foetal rather than embryonic. Even brainwaves were no longer readable and for quite a while, her vivacity was considered uncertain.
Darken's odium towards the creation's gender fed the growing force within him compelling him to end the experiment. The will to have a Perfect Warrior set to his hand however, was greater than the urge to destroy this puny female unborn consisting of a mere gathering of manipulated cells.
The Overlord checked on the foetus on a regular basis; more out of curiosity for its development than concern for its well-being.
What fascinated him were its horns: they were unusually large for an unborn child and there wasn't a doubt in Darken's mind this lass would grow to be one of the rare long-horned females.
Throughout history there were only two of such females recorded. They were Alana and Ganda, former Fuhen no Ryuu.
Darken hated them, he had hated them more than anything, especially Ganda, Dragoness of Healing. To him, females were useless, mere tools used to ensure offspring.
And he hated Uyra, Child of Ryuuguu. If all else would fail he would at least be able to use the Creation to destroy the rebellion and Uyra in particular.
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In Uyra's heart the real essence of the rebellion had died. After the capture of Fringe and Nita she realized more than ever before there was no way they were ever going to win this struggle. After all they had tried, after years and years of fighting Uyra wasn't sure of anything anymore. Was there even a point left to all this?
She couldn't remember a world without famine, free from dearth and destruction. It had become part of their lives like the passing of the seasons.
Uyra Ryuujin had often wondered why all this happened. But now she no longer wanted to know why, she wanted to know how to end it.
She had already realized asking questions as to why this happened was pointless years ago, at the time of her brother's death. There was no reason to this horrific war. There was no reason to the Overlord. Did it matter what Darken's true intentions were? Did it really matter whether the real Darken lay somewhere hidden within the Hakaisha? Things were beyond reconciliation anyway. Uyra didn't want to hold on to the hope for Darken's salvation. There was no salvation left, for no one.
Uyra hadn't even been able to hold on to Januar. Of course, Januar had played an important role in recruiting revolutionaries in the early years of the rebellion. In the end, such open rebellious activity had pushed Januar in a very dangerous position.
Januar hadn't been vulnerable at the time of his death, actually, his position had been powerful. Januar knew this, but Januar had been vain; he hadn't been willing to realize Darken's power reached deeper than anyone might think at first glance. Januar had truly been blind after all.
Uyra had been overwhelmed by his death. In Januar, she had seen the same fire and devotion she had felt in Gular's presence. She had hoped by surrounding herself with such strong men, such as Januar and his brother August, she'd be able to learn from them. She'd been wrong. She honestly wondered what their ending had taught her. Januar had been too stubborn to reason with. He must've been worse than even Gular had been.
And Uyra was still left to wonder where in the name of the Highest of All these men got their courage, the strength to defy a creature as ill-willing as the Destroyer.
She didn't consider herself courageous. There was no honour in guerrilla. There was no honour in hiding. But what choice had she?
She kept the resistance alive in memory of Januar and Gular. For their relentless devotion and pride in defying Darken had given her so much strength. But that very devotion and pride had killed the two of them.
And Uyra truly wondered where she got the strength to go on this time. Was it the unborn life that was growing inside of her? Would this child really make such a difference?
The chilly river water calmed her raging mind somewhat. Her brain was filled with thoughts, with questions, with pleas for support from her ancestor Ganda.
It was an early morning when she found out. She had been given small hints throughout the past months causing her to assess the condition she was in but now she was certain. Uyra sat near an underground riverbank and sighed with fright. She was having another child. It was still in a very primary stage but she knew. And she knew the child would be female this time. A girl, she would have a baby girl.
Although she had lost two children in the past two decades, she realized more than just the gender differed this time. She was blessed with something she thought she would never find after Gular had been murdered. Uyra was at peace with her fate, she was at peace with the fact she hadn't been able to keep her promises, she had accepted she wasn't strong enough. All that mattered to her now was to stay alive long enough for this child to survive.
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Thunderstorms gathered around the citadel. The Palace of Ryuuguu was shaken up once more. This time however, it wasn't Darken's doing, at least, not intentionally.
Darken marched down the vast corridors at the north end of the palace, headed for the scientific ward situated behind the citadel. He was obviously upset.
The thick metal door leading to the main laboratory was guarded by a big red haired Ilrindûmé Fighter; he had a long beard that reached down to his chest plate and eyes that were but a shade lighter. He was a strong willed soldier, not willing to let anyone enter without receiving further orders from the councillor of Vizz-Uhn.
Darken ignored him and walked straight up to the black doorknob, intending of opening the metallic entry that stood in between him and finding out what was going on.
"I'm sorry sir," the guard protested, "but I cannot let you pass."
Darken narrowed his eyes and to the poor guard it seemed as if the Overlord's pupils turned a frightful white, something he had never held possible if he hadn't just witnessed the same.
"Insolent fool," the Overlord said mockingly, "Your mishap will be your downfall." His voice was threatening and low, a whisper almost.
"Forgive me, Sire." The frightened guard attempted. It was futile, for Darken had made up his mind. He pushed the unfortunate sentry to the side and opened the door calmly while the red haired man fell to his knees and suffocated by something undoubtedly inflicted upon him by Darken.
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ChiChi sighed. Piccolo was staying for dinner again. Again! She almost had the feeling he'd become part of the family. And although she knew how much Goku and Gohan liked him, she just couldn't stand how hushed and reserved he was. He never spoke during dinner, save for some short, insignificant replies. And he never touched his dinner, which was usually fish anyway because of Gohan's recent obsession of going fishing with his father. All Piccolo-san ever took were a couple glasses of water.
She was beginning to fear Piccolo was having too much of an influence on Gohan. Gohan hardly got to studying anymore. But maybe if she talked to Goku-sa about it; maybe her husband would be able to explain to Piccolo-san he'd have to go. It was for the sake of Gohan, after all. Piccolo frightened her, towering over her, spending so much time with Gohan. It just didn't seem right.
And Goku, Goku was finally back and now he was never there. He was always out. Of course, she was very pleased he spent so much time with their son but she wanted some attention, too. All she asked for was a little consideration every now and then. She didn't even ask for flowers anymore, not after the time he brought her an entire tree.
It wasn't the fact she was always left alone to do the dishes. It wasn't the fact she'd always slave around in the kitchen cooking a huge dinner just to please her husband. No, it was none of that. She was sick and tired of not being able to talk to Goku anymore. He never gave her a chance to talk to him, almost as if he didn't want to talk to her.
Just as he wanted out of the kitchen again to get back to sparring outside, she decided to speak up.
"Gohan," she said, "It's time for bed."
"What? Already?" Gohan protested.
ChiChi shot him a glare. "What did you say, young man?"
Gohan lowered his head and made his way to the stairs. "I'm sorry, mother. Goodnight mom, goodnight dad." Goku wished him goodnight. Gohan smiled for a second, and looked at Piccolo. "Goodnight, Mr. Piccolo."
"Night, kid." Said Piccolo.
Just as she heard the door to Gohan's bedroom close, she focused her attention on Piccolo and Goku again. "Well now," she began.
"Here it comes," whispered Piccolo to Goku.
"I think it's time for you to leave, Piccolo-san. Goku-sa and I need to talk."
Piccolo grinned. "That's my que. Good luck, Goku." Piccolo definitely didn't want part in a marital squabble. He saluted the two of them as he left and closed the door behind him.
As he charged up and leaped into the sky, Gohan opened his bedroom window and waved at him until he had vanished into the distance.
"Goku-sa," ChiChi spoke, "I've thought about it for a while and…"
Goku tiptoed towards the refrigerator, hoping there was something left for him to gobble down. As his fingers enclosed the handle he carefully pulled one of its doors open, hoping ChiChi would just keep talking about whatever it was she was trying to say to him.
"Goku, what are you doing?"
"Hara heta na. I'm just so hungry, ChiChi." Goku said, complaining.
"Don't even try, Son Goku. This is way too important for you to ruin…"
Somewhat concerned, Goku turned to her. "What's wrong, ChiChi?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, not sure what subject to bring up first. And in a haze she said what bothered her most, just like that.
"I want another baby."
Although he was a little surprised, Goku smiled, closing the refrigerator door. "Yosh'!" he called excitedly. "Gohan will be so pleased!"
ChiChi had expected him to say that. But what about them? What about Goku himself? What did he have to say about all this? ChiChi hid her worries. Goku'd never understand anyway.
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Inside the laboratory was a haze of lab-coated scientists running around in a panic. The usually sterile floor was covered in blood and other fluids and electrical cables were pulled loose from where they had initially been connected to all sorts of devices and machinery, electrifying pools of chemical fluids and setting them on fire.
Darken blinked slowly. He stretched one arm, accordingly withholding one scientist from running. "What's happened here?" the Overlord queried, remaining rather unbiased by what he saw.
"Milord…"
"Quit snivelling and answer the damned question!"
The scientist locked his pale eyes onto Darken's, and then looked at his shoes bashfully. "The Perfect Warrior has broken free."
"So?"
"Well… w-we can't control it. We're unable to seal it into one of the specifically developed pens. It's simply too perfidious."
"Nonsense. That must be the stupidest thing I have heard in months. Baby girl out of control!" He laughed condescendingly. "Let me see. Oh, I have to see that."
"Uhm… yes, sir!"
Leading him back to one of the smaller side-labs, the old scientist stopped dead in his tracks by the glass door that lead to the compound where the origin of all the mess was kept at bay.
"What are you waiting for? Get in!"
The scientist stared at him incredulously. "Sir, I'm not trying to question your authority but you have no idea how dangerous the creature is…"
Darken shook his head. He looked in through the glass door and what he saw was not what he'd expected. Rubble and splinters of metal and glass were covered with blood and dispersed across the wrecked laboratory. In the centre of the cavity sat a small child, wailing.
"Don't flatter it too much. Get in and show me how powerful it is."
He was afraid of the creature that looked to be harmless. He knew how dangerous it was but he also knew how dangerous the Overlord could be when his order was ignored.
He nodded at his master though not without hesitation. Slowly, he entered the chamber and approached the creature.
The pale haired scientist stretched out his arms, knowing what power this creature held, he wanted to keep away but had his orders. He was simply awaiting a certain death.
He knew what he and his colleagues had created as he saw its eyes beginning to glow. What they had created was something far beyond their control. Whatever their will or bidding, this creature had a mind of its own. A monster with an intellect he could only attempt to approximate. Carefully, he kneeled by its side, trying desperately to hide his fear though knowing it could see through him with those crimson, poisonous eyes. It hissed at him, he had no other description for the sound the creature emitted. It was a hiss yet not quite. It was petrifying, bloodcurdling even. It was unnatural to him, it sounded like a machine. The Creation was far from anything he would ever have imagined. Overlord Darken would be unable to comprehend what this being was, Darken would never understand.
Ever so deadly, the Creation tilted its head, looking upon the scientist derisively. It continued producing the same hiss, monotone and unnerving.
Then, he knew he would die and not soon after, he did. He fell to the blood-soaked floor, as his eyes rolled back into their sockets and he choked on his own tongue.
Darken smirked.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," he said to himself as he approached the 'Creation'.
Intrepid despite the creature's performance, he picked her up.
The tiny child glanced at him, not showing him any indication of fear. Other scientists that had been witness to the deaths of their colleagues were riddled as to why their Creation remained so utterly calm upon the touch of the man they had imprinted in her soul to hate. To them, it was incredible and disheartening.
The Overlord turned towards a middle-aged research assistant. "Arrange a nurse to feed it."
He left, holding the naked infant in one hand.
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The grey haired tyrant, Lord Darken, was quite impressed by the Creation. Its performance earlier that week when it had not only suffocated nearly a dozen scientists by mere eye-contact, it had also torn four of them apart without touch or even casting a simple glance upon them. Regardless, scientists were no Fighters, and Darken knew this.
He still despised its gender, thereby preferred calling it by a neutral name. Tacris Yamnar, was a word Ryuujin used for a soulless being, a creature that attracted death as well as inducted it upon others, it was a creature feeding on corruption and decay, a creature free from any moral code. Tacris Yamnar, bringer of darkness. Tacris Yamnar, the Grim Reaper.
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Vejiita snorted and kept his arms folded. He really wondered what the hell he was doing here. Back in the days when he had been under Furiiza's rule he at the very least had been able to destroy simply for the heck of it. Of course, Furiiza scolded at him but why should he care what that snivelling little lizard had to say?
As he looked back at the past twenty years he wondered where he'd made a wrong turn. Although it was hard for him to acknowledge he had in fact been naïve as a youngster, he knew he wasn't exactly perfect but he did come damned close! He had surrounded himself with a bunch of idiots after his planet had been destroyed, weakling survivors, the last of the Saiyajin. Yes, Vejiita had known all along Furiiza had destroyed his world. He had known because Zarbon had left small hints for him. Was he thankful Zarbon had told him? No, for he hated that snivelling fagot and was glad he was dead. Vejiita was absolutely outraged over the fact he hadn't been able to have his revenge over Furiiza. It had long been prophesised the Legendary Super Saiyajin would rise and avenge its species. And the Super Saiyajin did avenge its species but instead of the Prince of Saiyajin, the Super Saiyajin had been a lowclass baka.
Kakarotto, Vejiita thought, and he bared his teeth. How he despised that thirdclass idiot.
"Now now, Vejiita-san," said a woman with a rather high-pitched voice, "No more mister gloomy for you. Have a Shirley Temple. And do join us in the backyard when you're feeling better, mhh?" She pushed a glass of ice-cold soda, with a little paper umbrella in it, in Vejiita's hands and smiled contently.
For a moment, Vejiita opened one eye and looked at the woman crossly. Stupid female, he thought to himself. That ugly wench of a daughter of hers is just as foolish. Bah.
In a gleeful stride, Mrs. Briefs headed back to the lower part of the backyard and sat down at the table. Mr. Briefs enjoyed a good cigar, and their loudmouthed daughter had the audacity to wave at him, the Prince of the Saiyajin.
Vejiita growled. He was in a lousy mood. He couldn't wait till whatever threat that other Super Saiyajin – there were two of them and he still wasn't at that level, damn them – had warned the Chikyuu fighters about two years ago. It would be at least another year. Vejiita definitely wanted another trip out. He sighed angrily. That wench was heavy with his child. How could he have ever let things get out of hand like this? Yes, he had been fully sane when he had knocked her up. But is was more of an experiment, really.
He had seen what power Kakarotto's brat held. He had seen with his own eyes, what potential lay in that half-breed lowclass son of that dimwit Kakarotto. So he'd decided to give it a try, too. Just in case he wouldn't make it a Super Saiyajin, you see. Although of course he'd never admit that. Surely it was relatively easy. All he had to do was shut off his common sense for a while and knock up that woman. And with a little luck he'd get rid of that obnoxious boyfriend of hers, Yamucha, as well. Without even trying, obviously. And it had been easy, for Bulma had fallen for his trap as if she'd been blind. His little scheme worked perfectly. Well, almost.
There was this one teeny tiny problem. For Bulma's grip on him had been more powerful than he'd anticipated. He sneered, looking at the space capsule at the west side of the garden. Then, he smirked and jumped aboard without effort. He'd need some distraction. He couldn't stand sensing how Kakarotto charged up to Super Saiyajin at will, almost as if he did so just to mock him. He couldn't stand not being a Super Saiyajin himself. He couldn't stand how much more human he was getting by staying here. He didn't want to be a human. Humans were baka weaklings, much like Kakarotto. And he was Vejiita, Prince of the Saiyajin.
With a sudden buzz and a loud thunder, the capsule's engine warmed up and the machine took to the sky, leaving an enormous cloud of dust and dirt, wrapping the Sunday picnic the Briefs family was holding in darkness, covering everyone up in smoke and engine residue.
"Vejiita!" Bulma shouted irritably, as she tried to make her way through the smoke, her face covered in dirt. "Chikusho! Kono yogore yo!"
As Chikyuu was slowly vanishing in the distance from under him, Vejiita sighed with relief. This was just the solitude he needed right now. As he turned on the built-in Gravity Room he put the engine on auto-pilot and begun training. He was glad to be finally left at peace and finally not being chased down with silly waves of an expecting wench as big as a hippopotamus and sickening Shirley Temples. He smirked.
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He had been planning it for years now. Solely getting to know all underground passages near the Citadel of Ryuuguu and charting these channels had taken him nearly two years. Preparations were done now, for tonight, Fall would liberate Fringe and Nita.
He regretted having to lie about it to Uyra but he had no choice. Uyra didn't understand. She didn't understand how thoroughly thought out the escape plan was nor did she understand how much especially Fringe meant to him. Fringe was like the brother he had never had. Fringe reminded him a lot of Summer, the sister he had left behind on Chikyuu. Summer should be of about Fringe's age by now. They were alike. Laidback but opinionated. Even at the age of a snotty kid.
Fall smiled ruefully, he missed the life he had had on Chikyuu. He missed being carefree; the only worry he had was getting a cute date in the weekends or making sure he and fellow team members won the monthly baseball competition. He had been untroubled though protective of his three sisters Spring, Summer and Winter.
He missed them but was glad he at least made sure Winter was safe. To a certain extent, that is. He sighed. He was tired of hiding, he was tired of pretending he was a weakling, he was tired of hiding behind a life he had once had but would never find again.
It wasn't like he was unhappy about the life he lead now. He was glad he had gotten the opportunity of meeting Uyra, and he honestly loved her more than anything possible so he shouldn't be so bothered by a life that had passed him by the moment he had made the decision of sneaking aboard the spaceship that had taken him and a dozen human girls to Chikura-sei, a planet in a galaxy he would never have imagined to have existed in the first place.
With a heavy heart he snuck out that night. He wasn't sure whether Fringe was even still alive but he was sure Fringe could handle the hardships he was confronted with in prison. Fringe had been a strong boy and had grown into an even stronger man. Nothing could break his spirit, a spirit that inspired all rebels, including their leader Uyra. But he wasn't too sure about Nita. He hoped Fringe was somehow close to her.
Compared to Januar, Fringe was a much better leader. Fringe at least thought before plunging into action. With resentment Fall thought back to Januar. He had been insanely jealous of him. Januar was courageous, a strong leader, and he had the one thing Fall had desired most: Uyra. But Uyra was his now, Uyra had chosen to be with him, and he didn't care whether Uyra still thought of Januar. She was with him now. And Januar was dead. It served him right anyway.
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Vejiita was more than pleased now that he'd finally left Chikyuu. That place just gave him the creeps. He felt as if he had to be tiptoeing around all the time. Bulma chased him down everywhere, commanding him, pulling on him, demanding all sorts of bullshit, such as attention or him to rub her feet. That wench could just as easily program a robot to do that for her but she wanted him to do this, the Prince of the Saiyajin! Was she insane? Did she actually think he'd rub her smelly old feet? Did she actually think she was worthy of his attention?
She said it was his duty as a father. Vejiita wasn't a father! Just because she had allowed herself to sleep with him, just because she'd swollen up like a hippo didn't mean he had any responsibility. He wouldn't beat her because she annoyed him, no, she was heavy with child in any case, but his fingers itched more as Bulma swelled further. He hated how everyone of that family was pulling on him. He wasn't part of it, damnit! He didn't want any part of it. And although he was pleased he'd managed to get rid of that idiot Yamucha and his squeaky, nagging little cat, the nagging had not ended. He still had to deal with Bulma and her mother. At least Mr. Briefs didn't give him a hard time, instead, he allowed him as much freedom as he needed. Perhaps that man understood at least part of how horrible it was to live with Bulma. He'd fathered her. A shiver went through him. Bah. Even now he'd left Chikyuu that damned wench was still on his mind. He hated her. He truly did.
With practicing a series of kata he tried desperately to think of other things. A child. That wench was having his child. He didn't remember much of his childhood. He only recalled vague images of a woman standing over his crib, looking at him, softly speaking to him in a low voice. He remembered her face, but only vaguely. Her hair almost the colour of dried blood, her eyes dark and strong. But he didn't remember much more than that. He remembered his sister, but only a fraction of her. All he remembered was the fact father always locked her up. Ever since his mother had died, the King always locked the child up in her room. He remembered how pale she was. He remembered he didn't want anything to do with her. She was illegitimate and weak. And he honestly didn't remember much more than that. He hoped that wench wouldn't give birth to a daughter. He didn't want a daughter. Just as his father hadn't wanted one. Girls were weaklings anyway.
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Fall might not be a fool but he had not anticipated so many security measures. There were no guards, which surprised him, but there was something else that kept intruders at bay. He had not expected a silent alarm. As he entered through a drainage system he managed to come in at the far end of the corridor that led past all prisoner's cells. He walked slowly, expecting at least one or two guards. There were none.
"Fringe, Nita, are you guys in here?"
Fall knew most cells were most likely empty, as there had been a mass execution recently. Fringe and Nita hadn't been part of it, they never were. The Overlord had some other plan for them and Fall wouldn't be waiting to find out what it was.
"Fringe, Nita!"
"You won't find them in here, Human."
Fall jumped, and turned to face whoever was talking to him. He narrowed his eyes angrily.
"Darken…"
"I will not allow anyone to cross me. Especially no weakling Human." Darken held a tiny girl in one of his arms but paid no attention to it.
"Where are Fringe and Nita!"
Darken smirked. "Well, they're not in here." The child in his left hand giggled and her tail swayed around impatiently.
"What did you do to them?" Fall demanded.
Darken breathed. He looked bored. "I'm getting a little tired of this conversation," he said. Slowly, he opened his free hand and let a tiny bulb of energy charge. "Yasashikatta. It was nice." The glowing ball sizzled towards him and burned into him. Fall didn't feel a thing, only a tingling sensation. He stared at the Overlord.
"What happened?" he asked.
The Overlord smiled in return. "You're dying."
Before Fall could respond he felt as if he was going to fall apart. He did, literally.
Darken watched him silently, the child in his hand did the same. Then, the Overlord turned and walked away.
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Uyra instantly knew when Fall had died. She felt it. She knew she would have to raise their child on her own. And although she felt weak and alone, she kept going. She kept going almost as if the child she carried inside of her told her to. She didn't understand why this happened but she knew this child was incredibly important, not just to her. Something was to happen sooner or later, and she knew her child would have everything to do with it.
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Another four and a half years had passed. Vejiita had returned to Chikyuu and had achieved his Super Saiyajin. He had a son now, though at first he had refused to acknowledge it. His son was a weakling. His son looked nothing like him. He looked like that ugly woman, Bulma.
But that changed the day he found out the Super Saiyajin from the future was in fact Trunks, his son. His son was a Super Saiyajin. He still had a lot to learn but then, when Vejiita had been his age he had also made his mistakes, even if he wouldn't admit them openly, not even to his own child. But now, his son from the future had left and he wasn't the least interested in that squirming little shit-factory that was his present son. It did nothing but stumble around like an idiot, drooling and weeping. He wanted nothing to do with it. And yes, that wench nagged about it but he stayed with her. It was his responsibility to keep that damned brat and his demanding mother safe. Saiyajin babies weren't as helpless as this one was but he had asked that woman why the brat was so weak. She said all babies were. And when he had asked her whether Kakarotto's brat had been that weak as well, she'd replied with an answer that pleased him. Yes, Gohan had been just as puny as Trunks was today. Gohan had been afraid of his own shadow. Gohan had been helpless. But today, Gohan was at a level Vejiita could only dream of. Today, Gohan was Super Saiyajin Level Two. Understandably, Vejiita was insanely jealous. And so he trained, day in, day out. He trained, as much as he possibly could. But he didn't get the chance to train always. Bulma had such authority over him she could at least dump that puny little brat with him. And yes, he had to admit he was actually quite fond of the little monster. He hated how helpless it was. He hated how he only had to shove it over to have it cry as if in death agony. But he knew what his son would one day become. His son would be a Super Saiyajin. His son would become stronger than Kakarotto's brat.
Mutely, he watched it. He'd decided to train in the backyard instead of the Gravity Room. He wasn't out because of the beautiful weather. Nor was he out because he wanted to keep an eye on that wench of his. He was simply out to scrutinize his brat son. He wanted to know whether he'd grown stronger. He could walk, and that had been about damned time but what else could he do? Had he any power? Had he any strategic talent?
Bulma watched them quietly, sipping from her cocktail. She smiled at her mother, who sat next to her at the outside terrace table. Vejiita had bought Trunks a gift. Vejiita had bought Trunks an actual gift. Of course, it wasn't exactly a gift Bulma would've wanted her son to have but she'd never expected Vejiita actually cared enough for Trunks to buy him toys. Trunks had been ecstatic when his father had handed him a carefully wrapped box. His father never gave him anything, not even an acknowledging glance. He must've been a really good boy to get such a precious gift from his father.
Bulma took another sip from her drink. Trunks was happily playing with the toy soldiers and war machinery his father had given to him. Happily, he suddenly jumped up, dashed past his mother and grandmother, back inside. Moments later, he returned holding a toy dinosaur in his hands, to play along with his little war.
Vejiita narrowed his eyes. At first he had wanted to interfere but as he looked closer, he saw Trunks actually used the dinosaur similar to the Saiyajin Oozaru artillery. Maybe there was a Saiyajin inside of him after all. He smirked, then continued his kata's.
Trunks looked up to his father. He thought the world of him. As the tiny four-year-old looked up from his toys, he decided to try living up to his father's expectations. Mimicking his moves and sounds; Trunks did his very best to act just like his father.
Vejiita glanced at him, almost as if he wasn't looking.
Good, he thought to himself, now there's a start.
Maybe, just maybe, Vejiita could get used to living here after all. Just maybe.
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Author's Note: Heh, what a long chapter. If you're fearing this Perfect Warrior might be a Mary Sue don't worry. She won't nearly live up to all the expectations and things they say of her. They say she's incredibly smart but she's not. They say her power is beyond imagination, that isn't true, either. So don't worry. She's made for destruction but that doesn't mean she's all powerful, au contraire.
I also have a reason for skipping years. I for one dread the three years when Vejiita and Bulma get together, more or less. It's been overdone. I feel it's not as significant as many people make it. It's merely a start of something.
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