Army of Incompetence


It was so dark...

When... had that become so welcoming? Being... in the darkness...

It was just so... comfortable.

As the blood poured out within me, as my injuries screamed in pain, as these horrors of what had been done to my family had come home to roost... I couldn't deny, the sweet cold nothingness that soon embraced me... wasn't welcome.

When it crept up on me, I found myself truly hoping... for it just to be over. But it was far from done.

I was soon dragged back, by a foul and angry voice.

"Awake, asshole?"

The voice was quickly followed by a sharp strike to my face.

My eyes fluttered open, I slowly cranked awake. And as I did, two realizations were forced through my consciousness... I was alive, and though in heaps of physical pain, and... mental anguish, that wasn't going to change, anytime soon.

As things slowly came into focus, something heavy and metallic was again slammed against my face. Only this time, with a lot more force than the hit that had awoken me.

Though, it still didn't really hurt.

Even with my head reeling, I was able to focus, and caught a clear sight of where I was, and of my attacker. It was quite a surprise.

I was on some sort of large... truck. And there was a man, a soldier, standing over me. He was decked head to toe in tactical equipment, and holding a sledgehammer. As my vision focused, I noticed more and more... He was special forces or something, and, the look on his face...

He looked completely freaked out.

"I have your attention now, eh?" the look in his face was deranged, "Sonovabitch!"

The soldier then drew up his hammer, over his head. He was going to crush my skull.

Suddenly, I was afraid. The irony wasn't lost on me, but it was reactionary.

I tried to raise my arms in defense, and gleaned two more things for my trouble. The remembrance that my limbs had been badly damaged. And the realization, that I was chained to the floor rather securely.

I couldn't stop him.

The hammer connected with my skull rather solidly, and a dull thud rang out from the impact. It didn't hurt at all. I probably should have known that.

"What are you doing, private! Get a hold of yourself!" the gruff voice of another rang out, "Stand down!"

I heard the sounds of a scuffle at that. The hammer I was struck with, was left balancing on my head, so my view was obstructed. But soon it fell away, I was able to make out that several more soldiers had jumped forward to restrain the deranged man. And then, something strange happened.

As I was noticing them... they suddenly, all took notice of me.

About five men, including the deranged man, and the older, more senior looking soldier that I had guessed had ordered him down, all stared at me. There were also about a dozen other soldiers sitting behind him, on this truck we were on.

And, in that moment, every single one of them, every single one... shared that deranged man's look, and was pointing a rifle directly at me.

What was wrong with them?

"What the hell is he!?" one of them seethed.

The sledgehammer, the one the deranged soldier had swung down on my head, clambered some more. Rolling around from the shifting of the moving truck... I guessed what had caused their reaction then. The face of the hammer was slightly dented, from where it had struck me.

"You see that, you see that!" the deranged soldier screamed at the top of his lungs.

The older man yelled at him to shut up in response, a weak attempt to regain order, as it was apparent he was as shaken as any of them. The younger man showed no hesitance to continue.

"I swung on him so hard, I nearly broke my wrist!" he screeched, "But look at him! Look at him!"

Every soldier hung on his word.

"No blood, not a bruise, not even a freaking lump!" he roared, "He's a goddamn monster, just like they said! The entire Boxer Brief family are evil, alien, freaks! Just like that Beta Brief, they'll kill us all if we let 'em!"

"They are not a monsters!"

It was my turn to sound off. I suddenly had heard enough. I wouldn't stand to hear my family demonized. Not in my own presence at least.

I strained at my restraints, and managed to sit up slightly, to the chains' and metals' loud, screeching complaint. I looked at them straight on, even as their eyes grew wider and wider with fear.

"My family is good people! You are all being fooled by lies! Juno is the villain!"

The fear in their eyes ignited, and I realized yelling at them was probably a mistake.

"He's gonna kill us all!" the deranged man roared, and raised his gun.

"That's enough, we are bringing him to justice! Alive!" the older man suddenly spoke up, but there was not an ounce of grit left in his voice.

He was clocked, with the butt of a pistol, for his trouble. The deranged man was running the show now, as he pointed his gun back at me.

"Kill him! Kill him now!" he ordered, as his gun fired.

The gun's retort was followed quickly, by a symphony of over a dozen automatic rifles, all firing in my direction.

I tightly squinted my eyes and angled my head away...

As the bullets bounced off my body, they might as well of been popcorn kernels.

...

I suppose they were right, in a way, these freaked out soldiers. By comparison to them, I was a monster. They didn't necessarily need the fact that such a close relative of mine had killed so many, to be terrified of me. My strength alone was reason enough. I could suddenly see that...

I suddenly felt, there was an underlying irony there... heh.

This is what that Juno had wanted? A situation, where once power was so revered, now so reviled? Well, he had succeeded then, hadn't he?

This whole world was dancing to his whim. We were all alone now.

Suddenly, I wondered;

Was there anyway to actually stop this anymore?

An explosion soon followed, quite out of no where. Flashes of daylight that told me the roof had been torn off the truck, and, for a brief second... I caught the glimpse... of a small, green... man.

I got my answer then.


"Alright, once more." Piccolo said curtly.

Surrounded by eight part-Saiyans standing around him, he beckoned to them. Not a smile on his face, his curling and uncurling fingers were not an invitation of merriment. They all knew this. They all shared the same expressions... of disdain, and fear.

"You can't be serious!" one of the braver ones spoke up, "All you're doing is beating us up! We're not learn-"

The pint sized green 'boy' fired forward, rolled up in a ball. As he reached the man, he hit him with a single kick to the face.

And that was all it took, Piccolo may have been made smaller, but he still had all his strength. The man went sailing over the edge of the Lookout... a small spray of blood was all that he left behind. Piccolo landed with some flair at that, and looked for his next victim. To which, the other Saiyans recoiled in horror.

There was a pause, before anyone spoke again.

"Dende, go collect him," Piccolo said.

"Piccolo, this is a little much, what do you possibly hope to accomplish beating up these kids?" Dende asked, his face painted with concern and confusion, "Certainly, there has to be a better way train these young people?"

The diminutive Namekian gave him an annoyed look at that, and pointed downward.

"You know, that kid will probably die if you let him hit the ground." he said, "I know, from up here, that will take quite a while. But don't you think, as a healer, it shows a lack of compassion on your part? To be so casual, taking your time like this?"

Dende jaw dropped at the accusation, as Piccolo stared back with only the lightest hint of smugness.

"Are you... joking?"

Piccolo frowned at him at that, perhaps recognizing his hostility.

"Whatever, just fetch him already." And with that, he turned his attention back to the remaining seven, who flinched in response, "Specifically, because the rest of you don't seem to have the balls to even complain anymore. That may be my star pupil."

Dende growled, looking like he wanted to say something... but instead, he dove over the edge of the Lookout. Like he was told.

The rest were left to stare, quite intimidated by this new authority figure.

Something about reincarnation... had changed Piccolo.

Upon the Lookout, things had shifted drastically in the last few hours, since he had returned. Expectedly, he had seized immediate control of the situation, much to everyone's initial relief, and subsequent chagrin. The surprise of this, were the moves Piccolo was making.

Everyone on the Lookout, Dende included, had expected him to rush Capsule Corp immediately upon learning of the situation. But, he relented on that. It was shocking how cool, and in control Piccolo seemed. He showed great forethought, and his actions were very methodical. Nothing like the brash moves he had been making before. But, something about his methodology was... worrisome.

He had at first gathered intel from everyone about the situation. He had already known about Juno and Jewely, but he had learned of the Saiyan hunts for the first time, and it garnered his attention. Dende had also told him of the strange things he had sensed in West City, and even that, he paid careful mind to. Advising caution over all else, he had organized search parties out of those who were able, and willing. Parties to search for survivors, and gather more information. And when he had run out of willing participants, he had beat into the unwilling until they were screaming to volunteer.

It was all organized in record time. And as a result, many had been recovered and/or saved.

… They were also able to confirm the deaths of quite a few. Sadly, almost every Saiyan of fighting strength had been murdered. Almost like they had been directly targeted. It was assumed weaker Saiyans were being left to be killed by the humans. But their were some inconsistencies.

For instance, old man Kohan and his family, whom many had not seen since the second attack on West City, were found at what was left of 18's family's home. Along with them, were found the dead bodies of Fender, Janis, and Topher. Three of the most stand out Saiyan fighters in the family.

But, Kohan, his daughter Meryl, and Janis's own daughter Jane, along with a very cranky and slightly injured Fortune Teller Baba were all found alive, seemingly spared.

It could be assumed, and backed up by Meryl's own testimony, that Juno was targeting only Saiyans with strength.

However, another notable recovery was the lone surviving member of the Boxer Brief family. The family's home had been found ransacked, and every member of the family brutally murdered, except one. Though well injured, it could be assumed, that for whatever reason, he had been spared. Even with his huge power level.

This begged the question, what was the point of the Saiyan hunts, if both the strong and the weak were spared randomly?

What the heck was the enemy up to... it seemed to be a question that weighed heavy on Piccolo's mind.

After the recoveries, Piccolo had made an excursion to Capsule Corp at that, despite Dende's protests. However, he had come back soon after, and, as he reported it, had not found anybody there.

He confirmed Juno was still alive, and still a threat. But,
besides the evidence of a great battle there, he could find nothing else. There were no bodies, living or dead there.

The fates of 18, Mars... and the strange monster Dende had sensed were unknown. They were no where to be found, either. Neither Dende nor Piccolo could sense them.

Knowing only that, the assumption was made... that they were all dead. And Juno, must have been the one that had killed all of them. And hearing what Dende estimated that unknown monster's power level to be... had widened Piccolo's eyes considerably.

"None of you will come at me?" Piccolo seethed, letting some of his desperation show.

The seven part-Saiyans held fast, in their frozen, fearful stupor.

Piccolo shook his head, in a quiet rage.

"Fine, then I'll move now." he sighed.

In an instant, the seven were beaten black and blue. Bloodied up, and some left unconscious.

The small Namekian suddenly reappeared at that, folded his arms, and painted his face with a dark scowl. His clothes already painted with their blood.

"Heal them up again, Dende." he ordered.

And Dende, having just brought the man who had been flung off the edge back, did. And he did so without a word this time. Because he knew...

Having found all he could find, learned all he could learn, Piccolo's course of action had turned rather grim very suddenly. He had suddenly picked out, among all the Saiyans gathered at the Lookout, thirty men. And, had preceded to beating them into shape, as he was still doing now.

He wasn't taking out his frustration. According to him, he was finding the best of what was left.

Thirty men, quickly whittled down to a mere eight.

And these eight... where not a damn sight better than the twenty two he had already dismissed.

Some had never fought before. All were completely inept.

They couldn't control their energy, barely manage flight, most couldn't even throw a punch. They had never trained before, indeed, didn't even know how. They were the softest of the soft.

The issue seemed to stem from some kind of break down within the Saiyan family's role structure. People with enormously high power levels, like Boxer and his sons, were strongly encouraged to train. They were given much incentive, like money for their family, and status. Strong warriors from within the family were even charged with training and mentoring them.

However, one rung below that, were people who were born with merely somewhat high power levels. These lucky ones, were given status and wealth too. And most of them, decided easy lives without responsibility and punishing training were most agreeable.

That, that was the lot Piccolo had to draw from.

Oh, there were other choices here, of course. Upon this Lookout, there were warriors who seemed like they had a greater understanding of martial arts, and had even trained regularly. But most of them were old, or they were so low level, Piccolo couldn't use them.

It was sad to say, but a higher power level was what mattered most.

But he had beaten these eight up countless times now. They were terrified of him, none of them showed anything close to the true spirit of a fighter, let alone the spark of a true prodigy. At this point, it did seem Piccolo was merely taking his frustration out on the these forced recruits.

But, he claimed he needed worthy fighters, to fight with them.

Dende knew why he was acting this way. Piccolo's actions spoke very clearly.

It was simple. They didn't have enough strength right now.

As Dende dutifully began healing them all again, he knew this. They needed a miracle. That's why Piccolo was desperately beating these recruits half to death... relying on the Saiyans inherent strength to get stronger after being pushed close to death...

But, even if they got stronger physically... the terror in their eyes was only getting brighter. And, it seemed even Piccolo saw this.

"That's enough." Piccolo suddenly said, as the last man was healed.

He looked over each of them, tiredly and angrily. He sighed, and turned away, much to everyone's confusion.

"... Take a break, you cowards." he suddenly growled out, loud enough that the entire Lookout, and everyone on it, could hear him.

This sudden statement caught many by surprise. Particularly, the eight Saiyans he had been roughing up. They seemed to be torn between relief, and a festering feeling of deep anger. Considering what they had allowed Piccolo to put them through, to receive such an insult was a bit over the line, to anyone's perception.

But still, none of them dared to say anything back. Which only seemed to make Piccolo's mood worse. He stepped away from them, and towards the crowd of civilians gathered upon his Lookout. To which, they gave him instant birth. The crowd shifting around him as he drew closer, everyone terrified to be anywhere near him.

Was it possible a crowd could flinch collectively?

Piccolo stepped through them lively, rubbing his chin in thought. Soon, he made his way up, to a familiar pink lump.

"Buu here!"

Piccolo's eyes glanced up, to the Majin relaxing amongst the crowd.

In the hours since he was brought here, Buu had slowly, but surely, defrosted. Now that he was no longer coated in ice, he seemed perfectly recovered, and as lively as ever. Completely oblivious to the situation too, as expected.

However, Piccolo turned his nose up at him.

"I need more," Piccolo growled, to which the Majin groaned in confusion.

"I tell you now, I wish we never sealed your power, Buu," Piccolo sighed, "That was a mistake, I wish we hadn't made..."

The Majin stared back at him. A faint glean in his eye...

It was about that time, that Piccolo's taunts had finally taken root, in one of the recruits he had been testing.

"Just who the hell do you think you are!" the bravest of the eight roared, jumping to his feet, "I'm stronger than you were when you were known as King Piccolo, you know that? I've already accomplished more in this life, then you did in the entirety of your first!"

Piccolo glared. This kid... was the same one he kicked off. He smirked.

His name was 'something junior'. One of the many dozens of worthless grandsons named after old warriors from the old days. But, contradictory to that, he appeared to be the only halfway decent recruit among the fold.

"You think, Junior, I should give you more respect? Eh, coward? I'm impressed you even have the courage to say so."

The man stared back like he might burst a blood vessel.

"Go to hell!" he roared.

Piccolo smiled at that. He actually still had some spirit left. And then burst towards the man with the speed of a locomotive, tearing up the ground with his aura as he went. A small package, bursting at the seams with power, and force. He was on the man in an instant, and his aura only intensified.

The recruit fell backwards, shielding his face with his hands and screaming.

… But, he had not been hit. Piccolo hovered over him, frozen in place, staring down at him. When he realized what had happened, the man didn't speak up again.

"Too soft." Piccolo sighed, returning to the ground, "You are all too soft."

He looked around the crowd again. They again flinched. But past the anger and annoyance that painted the Namekian's face that they were all reacting to, was another emotion. To those who looked for it, it was clear what was really on his mind.

Dende, for one, was well aware what he was thinking. They were in trouble. They were all, in trouble.

Piccolo walked towards the crowd again, only this time, he looked over each of them carefully. He looked over their terrified faces, some unable to even return his glance.

In his head, Piccolo began to remember Gohan... he remembered, him flinching against the Saiyan Nappa... and his trouble fighting Cell...

And he thought then... if these recruits... were only that soft. That, was something he was prepared to deal with. But for him, looking around the men and women gathered here, the deficit was so much larger than that it could be compared to an ocean. Was there really no one here, that could fight?

He had practically lapped the group, when he finally came upon, the one and only standout.

The lone survivor of Boxer Brief's family.

Piccolo frowned, finding himself right in front of the man.

He had given him some breathing room, given the circumstances. He had refused to speak since he had been brought here, and even refused Dende's healing despite his injuries. But Piccolo's patience was wearing thin.

"Can I even count on you?" Piccolo growled at the man.

But he just stared back blankly in response.

"You know, I left you out of the testing, since you're the strongest one here, and I know you can fight. But I'm beginning to wonder if you're too... are too soft?"

He said nothing.

"Tch, that's probably exactly what it is, isn't it?"

Piccolo frowned, walking away, deep in thought.

The man merely looked back to the ground. Content, to be left alone again, in his empty little spot on the Lookout...

Oddly enough, he was a bit of a leper here. His disposition was part of it, he had not spoken a word since he had been brought here. But, the others here had another reason to distrust him, and distance themselves...

For him to be alive, while his entire family had died so horribly...

Some had to wonder, how this... this Boxer Brief, had managed that. Why, or, for what reason, had Juno spared him over his family? How were every one of his sons, and even his wife, killed... while he survived?

Boxer slowly looked back up to the green man then, carefully glinting his eyes at the diminutive figure, as he walked away.

Even to him, it was apparent how worried he seemed about it... fighting Juno that is.

His question... the one he had been asking since he had awoken: was there a way to stop that man? Piccolo really had answered it for him already.

When he had saved him, on that truck...

"Boxer, I'm going to need you're help," he had said, "Come with me!"

That was his answer.

If Piccolo needed his help to fight Juno...

The help of the man who had been beaten completely... the man who had lost everything...

… The help of a man who had selfishly chosen his own life over his own sons.

...

Well, there really was no hope at all, now was there?