What is it about graveyards that make them so beautiful? Why do people care so much to protect what is, for all intents and purposes, a glorified hole in the ground? Why do we pour so much money, time, and love into them? The care we take in selecting the perfect headstone, the gentleness with which the coffin is laid to rest, the pristine green grass and bright flowers, kept in immaculate condition by daily toil. Why do all this for the dead, for people who can no longer show us gratitude for all we do? Perhaps we do all this, labor for so long and so hard, in order to show the dead the kind of love we failed to show them in life. Maybe because, no matter what we do or what we could ever do, nothing could express how much we loved them, how much we still love them, or even how much we have grown to love them more now that they are no longer with us.
Clark Kent laid yet another flower on the grave of Lois Lane. Earlier, in Japan, he had laid a similar one on the grave of Son Goku. The yellow daffodil almost shined in the light of the slowly brightening sky as the sun began her ascent through the sky. The flower was an odd choice for a deceased love, but Clark knew Lois would've appreciated the variety, as Son Goku would've welcomed its symbolism. As the first rays of dawn fell upon his face, no amount of focus could force out the influence of his powers. Clark preferred to visit the grave when it was nighttime. It was easier for him to ignore his super-senses then. It had been generations since her death, and in these precious few moments he could spare with her he preferred isolation. Even if it was just for a few minutes, he wanted to be away from it all, he wanted a few minutes where he didn't have to hear someone cry for help or scream in terror. Some would've reprimanded him, saying it was irresponsible of him to shut out the world, even for a moment. Others, like Lois, understood. They understood that, no matter how super his powers were, the person wielding them was still just a man.
Of course, it didn't matter anymore. Lois was gone. As were those others who had understood. As well as the world that had understood him.
In the years since the old days, so much had changed. Capsule Corp had replaced Lex Corp, Mr. Satan had become the world-famous playboy that Bruce Wayne once was, and Son Goku and his compatriots had become the new protectors of Earth. Today's people were so different now. Despite all the, literally, Earth-shattering events of the past few years, they refused to adapt or change, or let it affect them in the slightest. Perhaps the people of this world had all become dumber? Or perhaps they simply didn't care.
.
.
.
It was Gohan who had discovered the location. Buried deep in his books, he had found mention of the Kryptonian stronghold, a place the people of the time had referred to as his "Fortress of Solitude." No amount of scans from Capsule Corp Satellites could locate the place, and any digital records had been erased ages ago, the last acts of heroes from a past era.
He had been up for hours, burying himself in documents that were older than him. He had worked himself to exhaustion, an impressive feat given his own Saiyan biology. It was for this reason that he didn't sense what Vegeta was about to do. The next thing Gohan knew, Vegeta had struck him right on the neck, knocking him unconscious. Gohan was a good kid and a brilliant fighter, but Vegeta knew that he'd want to accompany him. He couldn't allow that. If anyone asked he would've told them that he wanted to face the Kryptonian alone. He wanted to battle the Earth's greatest hero so he could prove his own worth and strength. But truthfully, that wasn't why he'd done it. He knew that Gohan would never be able to control himself around his father's killer. This fight may very well prove to be his last, and, though he'd take the secret to the grave, he didn't want to drag a child to his own death.
It was late at night. Gohan's head fell with a heavy "thunk" sound on the desk, his eyes closed and, hopefully, dreaming of Videl. Vegeta left the Capsule Corps library where Gohan had been working nonstop for nearly a week. He walked to the rooms of his son, daughter, and wife, kissing each forehead as he went. He could count all the people he cared about in existence on one hand, but these people, this tiny family of his, this was his existence.
For a brief moment Bulma stirred as Vegeta's lips withdrew. For an equally brief moment, Vegeta hesitated. He could stop right now. He could lay down, embrace his wife, and go to sleep. He could gather everyone in the morning, and together they could assault the Kryptonian fortress.
No. Vegeta remembered what he had seen, remembered how his great rival had died. It wouldn't be an assault. It would be a slaughter. But this way it would be a slaughter with only one casualty. If he won, than they'd celebrate. Goku would be back and Vegeta would finally be able to definitively say he was the strongest being on the planet. But if he failed... well... he'd left his Will already, instructing everyone not to try to avenge his death. If he failed than hopefully his would be the last and only death.
With that, the Prince of all Saiyans grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and rocketed up and away towards the Arctic.
*The choice of a yellow daffodil was a deliberate one. As a tangential learning experience, see if you can determine what it means.
