2:12 TWIST OF FATE



It was late in the night, and the old tower at the west wing of the ancient castle had struck three times, when it started to rain. Water poured out of the skies, down on the dusty courtyard, changing it into a muddy swamp in a fraction of time. The rain pounded mercilessly on the dark roofs, and streamed in rivers to the edges, falling down in a curtain of silver, digging wells in the ground where they hit. Puddles became pools, pools flooded over into small lakes, which were drained by the city's sewer system that was hardly able to keep up swallowing it all. It gargled and gurgled, as if it was drowning. When its main underground bowels were filled to the rim with water from the heavens, its old branches, sealed off and out of use for many years, were opened by the tremendous pressure and flooded again. The relentless stream was now led into places, were it should not go.

Vegeta was not even aware that it was raining, let alone that it had transformed into a raging storm, flooding the streets of the city. In his wretched prison where he was locked up, there was no link to the outside world. What he did notice, and that was merely because the blunt pipe protruded on his side of the prison, was that the modest drip of vile sewer's water had changed into a modest stream. It formed small puddles between the cobblestones, and as it hit them it splashed out in tiny droplets that drenched his face. It woke him. What the hell is going on, he thought and he held out his hand to collect the water from the stream that was now flooding in. The water was cleaner then normal, as if it had been diluted with fresh water from a deep well. Having already trouble to sustain his body temperature, Vegeta crawled away from the wetness. He reached the corner of his prison and curled up again, his knees pulled close to his chest while he wrapped his arms around them. He could feel the smooth surface of the shard against the back of his cuffed hand. He still had it. Tomorrow, if he was alive and strong enough to fight, he will make sure that he got his share of a meal.

~*~*~*~*~

The soft ticking of raindrops against the stained windows changed into a relentless pounding, as the Namek general opened his dark rimmed eyes and gazed around warily. He had fallen asleep at his desk, being exhausted after the many sleepless nights he had endured during the last few weeks. He leaned back on his chair and rubbed the sand out of his eyes, almost angry with himself that he had fallen asleep, for there were still so many things he had to attend to. He slapped on his cheeks, and warned his tired spirit that it was not the time, nor the place to take a nap. As he was talking to himself, a man dressed in a stainless army uniform entered, and looked at the commander with great puzzlement, but decided that it wiser not to comment on his strange behavior. The general was tired, and because of that he was suffering from a very vile mood already, but the message the man was about to deliver was probably going to worsen that even more.

"General, lieutenant Grimmore reporting on the prisoner Sir."

"Well, don't just stand there! Spill it out."

"The physical punishments don't seem to work, the prisoner keeps denying to have anything to do with the murder, Sir."

"What!?" barked the general, and he squeezed his hands till the knuckles showed white. "How can this be? Did you idiots try hard enough to make him confess?"

"We tried everything Sir, we've put the prisoner on the rank, we flogged him till he was bleeding, we even used the hot iron on him. It was all of no use, he did not want to confess Sir."

"I don't believe this!!" Piccolo yelled and in his rage, he smashed his fist on the table and went right through it with his brute strength, splintering the wood. "I don't FUCKING believe this!!!"

"Sir, if I may so boldly comment, I believe that our suspect cannot bear anymore of our torments." Said the lieutenant, his face growing pale. " He's wounded, and I'm afraid that if we continue with our efforts, he will end up losing his mind. He had already reacted rather strangely towards our last session. At least, I expect that a man in agony will not burst into insane laughter when threatened."

Piccolo pulled his hand out of the wrecked table. It struck the lieutenant that with all the brute force the general had used, there was not even a minor scratch to be found on his hand what so ever. These royal elite guys were really far beyond his league, and he thanked the Gods that he had mere a cozy desk job in the prison dungeons. The general stared at him, rage still burning in his alien eyes.

"I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!! He should have confessed!!"

"Well Sir, we did everything in our power to force him to, but the villain is obviously far too stubborn. Can't we just charge him for the murder and sentence him without a confession? I mean, we know that he did it, right?"

There was a long silence, and the lieutenant was starting to feel quite uncomfortable, as the general seemed not to be confident enough to answer him. Piccolo banged his fists on the table. His eyes grew grim while his anger subsided.

"Am I right Sir?" The lieutenant asked, very eager now to hear some sort of conformation to calm his growing sense of discomfort.

Piccolo sighed. He rose from his chair, and paced towards the window. Outside, a heavy storm was roaming relentlessly. Heavy winds stripped bare the trees while a thick wall of rain fell out of the blackened sky. An impermeable haze of water gushing down the colored glass distorted his view to the outside world.

"He's not stubborn Grimmore. I know this man. Dodoria has no pride to sustain stubbornness. He's has an evil heart, but he's gutless. I cannot imagine such a man taking these tortures that we have bestowed on him without giving in. He should have had screamed his admission by now if he was indeed guilty."

"What are you implying Sir? You don't mean to say that the guy is innocent, are you?" The lieutenant asked. The bitter coppery taste of panic filled his mouth. Please don't tell me we have the wrong guy! The king has already been informed about the capture of the main suspect. He 's expecting to see some results rapidly. You can't just tell the man that we have been messing around with the royal kitchen chef for weeks and end up with nothing! He swallowed an arid lump, stuck in his throat, while he tried to hide some of his anxiousness from the general. Best to remain calm. Perhaps his superior officer didn't mean to tell him this at all.

"I'm afraid that we indeed have captured the wrong man, lieutenant." Piccolo said, his voice as calm as ever.

"How can this be!! Sir, you were so sure in the beginning! And the whole thing sounded so believable! Are you joking general because if you are, I don't think I appreciate your rather cruel sense of humor!"

Piccolo was a bit stunned by the man's fierce reply and arched his brow.

"Of course it's not a joke! I'm not the type and it's nor the time to fool around lieutenant! If Dodoria was indeed guilty of the queen's murder he would have had confessed by now. We have to drop his charges, the man is innocent and this lead on which we have been working so hard is dead."

"Oh shit!" was all the lieutenant managed to say in his reply. This was God-awful. He could lose his job for this! He could be sent to do fieldwork! "Oh shit-o-shit-o-shit!"

Piccolo's hand vanished in a pocket of his baggy trousers. He pulled out a small scroll of paper that he pushed into the shocked man's hands.

"This message came from our elite investigators. It was delivered about an hour ago. Read it."

The lieutenant opened the scroll with shaking hands. He needed to squint his eyes to read the fiery letters, since he was actually far-sighted, but thought it looked too puny to wear glasses. As the message of the writing became clear to him, he had to swallow once again a painful lump that obstructed his throat, before panic seized him.

"T-The girl that they found, could she not be just another victim of rape?"

Piccolo's back was turned on the man, as he was staring outside into the rain. His voice however, was as imposing as ever and left no doubts about his confidence in his own words.

"Her body was found in a dried up well at the eastern borders of the city. There were no markings left on her that could indicate violence or abuse. Indeed, when the coroners performed her autopsy, they found that she was still a virgin when she died."

Piccolo turned around, his eyes were dark.

"I've never heard of a rapist that leaves his victim undesecrated. We are dealing with a murder with a different intention."

"But this doesn't necessarily mean that her death is in any connection with our case. It could have been a coincidence that she was also employed here at the castle." spoke lieutenant Grimmore eagerly. He did not want it to be connected, for the girl's case seemed even more difficult to solve then the murder of their queen. Why couldn't they just blame the whole thing on the Vesuvian and close this case. The king would be happy, he could keep his cushy job, and the general could go back to fort Khazad Dum to do whatever he did there. Why complicate the matter with an obscure suspect that had already eluded their grip?

"The girl's name was Yera." Piccolo spoke her name with respect. "An orphan who had been in service of sister Elaina from the convent of the Sacred mother Theresa for many years. She was reported missing from the 11th of the third quarter of the new moons, which is about two days before the poisoning. Sister Alaina could not make it to attend the delivery of the prince, and Yera was sent in her place. She never made it to the castle. The sisters had reported her missing when she didn't return the following days, but since all the city's resources were put on solving the queen's murder, nobody ever looked for her."

The general paused for a moment, sunken into deep thoughts. He could not help but to feel guilty about the fact that nobody attended to this case sooner. The girl had been lying in the dried well for weeks, and her body already had started to decompose when a shepherd finally found her when he guided his sheep to the well to quench their thirst, not knowing that it was abandoned. The coroners who had examined her corpse told him that the she broke her legs during the fall, but that she was probably still alive, before starvation and exhaustion took her life. If they had looked for her, if they had been there earlier, she might have still been alive today.

Once again, another innocent soul that he had failed to save.

"The weird thing is, that although she never made it to the castle, the servants and the guards claim to have seen her attending the queen after she had given birth. She had served her ladyship during the first evening, and had brought her the fatal supper."

Lieutenant Grimmore, who was sunken in his own, more selfish thoughts, lifted his brows in bewilderment.

"What do you mean Sir? I don't understand."

"Neither did I in the beginning. You see, I had questioned the staff about this servant girl, because if it turned out that Dodoria was not the one who had administrated the poison to her ladyship's food, then it must be one of the kitchenboys or the servants who did. They only knew that her name was Yera, and that she was a temporary employee. They could however, give a detailed description of her appearance, for she seemed not to be of the Saiyan race and many had noticed her presence."

"But then, how did she ended up dead before she was able to reach the castle. Are the coroners not making any mistakes with appointing the time of her death?"

"No, they were absolutely sure that she died the 14th of this timequarter. A day before the poisoning."

"Well. Then she must be a ghost of somekind! Otherwise, how can you explain to me in any common sense how she could end up being seen by the staff after she was supposed to be murdered?"

Piccolo gazed at the lieutenant and tipped with his finger on the opened scroll that the man still held in his hands.

"Didn't you read her descriptions?" An accusing look was in the general's eyes.

"Yes, but my mind is far to occupied now to deal with those minor details Sir. Why don't you just tell me what the link is between this girl and our queen's death? For so far, you've been serving me one uncanny riddle after the other. What use is in all this?"

"The use in all this is that you might then start using your head, my dear Lieutenant." The general sneered. "Has these many years working in the dungeons blinded you for the worth of a life, that you cannot find it important enough to read about the death of a young servant girl, when she is of no use to your case?"

"Of course not Sir. I'm sorry, I did not intend to seem so cold hearted." Stammered Grimmore. "It's just that the girl was an alien Sir, and I've always dealt with internal affaires in the past." He lied.

"The girl, lieutenant Grimmore, was of Saiyan birth. The description the servants gave me were that of a Laverian-jin, this means green eyes, blue tanned skin and green, long braided hair. It indicates that an imposter had used her name to get close to her ladyship, with probably a darker intention then merely to serve her and the prince. Now, does this strike you as a God given clue lieutenant, or do you need more persuasion that this case is linked to ours?"

"No Sir, it think it's finally clear now." Replied the baffled man after being whacked on the head with the answer almost literary.

"Good."

"Sir, don't we need to go after that Laverian guy immediately then? I, mean, the king has been waiting for us to solve this case very impatiently indeed. I don't want to pressurize you sir, but we really need to show his majesty some results soon." Or my job can be put at stake here, he thought rather panicky.

"I have already taken care of that lieutenant. I've sent my men to trace back the unknown servant's origins, and I've sent others to inquire the sisters about Yera. For so far, it seems that there are no further clues on the mysterious identity of our suspect. That scroll that you hold in your hands, is all the information that they were able to obtain so far."

"We cannot present this to the king!" yelped the desperate lieutenant. "We have to show him at least one suspect in custody. This drawback is absolutely unacceptable!"

"Well, there's not much I can do about it, is there?!!" boomed the general's voice angrily, finally getting enough of the selfish man's anxiousness. "I'm sorry for you that we cannot use Dodoria as a sheep goat to retaliate on her ladyship's death, but these kind of cowardly and heinous acts just don't suite me at all, so we have to try even harder to find the true murderers, understood?!"

Piccolo's eyes were raging with fire. This pencil sucker of a low rank officer had really pissed him off. Why do these men even join the Saiyan army, if their first intention was not to guard the justice that their king had priced so high in his reign?

"I-I understand S-Sir. I-I am very s-sorry Sir." Stuttered Grimmore, and his face was an unknown color crimson. "I didn't mean to offend you Sir."

"You didn't offend me lieutenant. You just offended yourself. Now get out of my sight."

"Immediately Sir." Grimmore was on his way out when something came to his mind and he turned back, addressing the general rather hesitatingly.

"Eh, Sorry to disturb you again, Sir. But if you were right about Dodoria being innocent-"

Piccolo gazed angrily in Grimmore's eyes, and the man withered.

"-Which of course I do not doubt, after having been persuaded by you good Sir! But, what shall we do with him then? Must I give the orders to set him free?"

The general reflected the option for a moment. He was now convinced that Dodoria was not to be blamed for the queen's gruesome murder, but he still detested that man for what he had done to that child. A man of such wickedness should be disciplined.

"Drop the charges for murder, but put him up for severe child abuse and neglect. See to it that he gets sentenced to four years, at a minimum that is."

"I will see to that Sir. I will see to that right away. And what should we do with the child?"

Piccolo hesitated for a moment. He wished the boy to be released from the dungeons and taken care of immediately, just like the other more fortunate boys they had rescued out of the hellish kitchens. However, there was something that withheld him form doing so. Actually, there were two things. First, he still had to be sure that the boy had nothing to do with the case. Although he was about 99,99% convinced of his innocence by now, the fact remained that they had indeed very little leads to the mysterious servant and they needed to question the boy to be absolutely certain that they didn't miss out on an important link. The second, more prominent objective however, came with the rather peculiar name of the boy. It didn't even struck him at first when the malicious chef had called the child by his given name, but after the arrest, the realization had had popped up in his mind and had not left his consciousness ever since. Vegeta was a royal name, only given to the heirs of the old rulers of Vegetasei. Anyone naming their child to this bloodthirsty linage nowadays must be very loyal indeed or entirely mad, for they were feared and loathed for their regime of death and suppression. The thought had once risen in his mind, that the boy carrying this name could be an heir of theVegeta household, the last survivor of their linage. However, he had brushed this implication aside almost straight away, calling himself a lunatic for even suggesting this.

The child could have not been one of the house of Vegeta, for he had watched the last descendant of this wretched family die at the stake, burnt alive for his heinous crimes.

"Sir, have you decided yet what to do with the boy?"

The general unlocked himself from his thoughts. Gazing back into the darkness outside, he waved his hand to sign to the lieutenant that he was dismissed.

"I've not decided yet. Bring him to see me tomorrow."



~*~*~*~*~*~



This is getting ridiculous, what are they trying to do, drowning the rats in here? Vegeta struggled to keep up standing straight to allow himself to reach just above the rising water with his trembling lips. Sharp pangs of cold stabbed him in his chest, hitting the air out of his lungs. He looked around desperately, searching for bricks sticking out of the walls where he could hang on to, but the stones were slippery with algae, and he could not hold on to any of them. As the water lifted his feet from the drowned floor, he instinctively kicked his legs in an effort to swim. He failed miserably, and had to jump up to keep his nose above the water instead. Each time before he sank back into the freezing water, he filled his lungs full of air, and once his bare feet hit the ground, he leaped, launching himself back to the surface. Each time he jumped, the silvery disk of the surface distanized from him further and further, and soon he won't be able to reach it anymore.

He did not know how to swim, but if he wanted to survive, he will have to learn it quickly.

Once again kicking fervently with his legs, he only managed to lift himself a couple of feet above the floor, only to sink back like a heavy brick the instance he became exhausted of the action. He tried again, more desperate this time, bending his legs sideways. They became entangled with his chains by this uncoordinated action, and as panic struck, he opened his mouth to scream, swallowing gallons of water into his lungs.

He would have drowned, if not his legs had finally found the right movement and pace, and launched him to the surface.

Vegeta's head emerged from the water, his thick, black hair stuck to his scalp and hung heavy down to his shoulders. Fear raided him as he started to sink again, but by instinct his arms joined in his fight to stay above water. They moved in a desperate manner, waving around as if trying to grab hold of the elusive fluid. Finally, as the boy forced himself to calm down, they found the pacing of his legs and he slowly learned to draw wide circles with them to keep floating. He swam gracelessly, but at least he was swimming.

This was truly a desolate situation. The water kept flooding in through the blunt pipeline, the modest stream had changed into a roaring waterfall. He could hear the anxious pleads of the other prisoners, screaming and crying. The whole wing of the dungeon must have flooded. Vegeta stirred himself around to face the door. He was just in time to see the lights in the corridor extinguish. The rising waterlevel must have reached the burning torches. Suddenly, he found himself struggling in complete darkness. The screams of the prisoners intensified, as panic hit among them like a contagious disease. Vegeta stirred around again, blind in the dark but not able to fully use his sensitive hearing to compromise this lost. He moved himself away from the noise of falling water. He wanted to head for the door. Perhaps the keepers will be down in the dungeons soon and release the inmates, although in his heart, he knew better then to count on it.

He was half way where his chains would permit him to go, when a scaly hand grabbed him by his ankles and dragged him below the surface. Just before the cold darkness hit his face, he was able to gasp for a small breath of air before he was forced to close his mouth. The water closed above his head, leaving him to the cold embrace of a sea of emptiness. Unable to see and hear, he could only guess where his attacker was as he tried to struggle free. He kicked with his legs fervently, and hit something hard. Just as the grip on his ankles receded and he swam away to reach for the surface, an arm grabbed him by his neck, keeping him in the darkness.

His life was left at the mercy of his attacker after the strength to resist subsided out of his arms and legs with every minute that past in the serenity of this dark void. He couldn't see it, but as he was forced to expel the precious little air that was burning in his lungs, he knew that the trail of bubbles should have broken the surface almost immediately. Is this how it's going to end, he thought rather ironically, to drown here in a flooded dungeon with the surface only a few feet away from me? I've never done anything wrong to deserve this! Tears welted in his eyes, and were diluted in the vast amount of liquid. He no longer cared that he was crying indignantly, no one will ever know for he would never be allowed to leave this watery tomb.

Stop sobbing you runt, if you're going to die, die with the honor of a soldier! -

Vegeta was stunned to hear his cellmate's voice. He knew that it was that deranged fishguy who had dragged him down and was holding him here, but he could not understand how the creep could communicate with him.

You forgot that I'm a Kanassian warrior, and that I therefore am perfectly fit to live in an aquatic environment. I can do everything here, including reading your mind and telling you that I'm about to let you perish. You see monkeyboy, it's actually not too bad to be a fishhead. At least I've gills. That would have been quite handy now for the time being, wouldn't you agree? -

Vegeta shook his head feverishly, trying to free himself out of the monster's grip, but the warrior was far in his benefits; he had fresh air to fuel his muscles and he kept the boy in his clutches.

-Stop struggling! It's of no use! Why don't you just give up boy? Make it easier on yourself. You would have drowned anyway. Those chains are far too short to allow you reach the surface if the water kept on rising. Better get it over with.-

Closing his eyes, Vegeta tried to block out his thoughts. Another second and his hampered respiration would force him to open his mouth, to breathe in this cursed liquid and to allow it to penetrate and destroy his organs. He had only one chance left. One chance left to safe himself. His left hand reached for the shard under his cuff. He pulled it out, cutting the back of his hand in the process. As he concentrated to block ou the pain, he dropped the damn thing.

He was just able to catch it, clasping the shard between two trembling fingers.

Good monkeyboy. I cannot sense any thoughts coming from you now. Just let it flow. Let your life's energy drain out of your tormented little body. It's better his way.-

With last fragments of strength, Vegeta clenched the shard in his hand and thrust the sharp piece into the warrior's stomach. A warm flow of liquid, more viscous then the surrounding dark waters, flooded between him and the alien. A scream, loud and terrifying, for it seemed to rise out of the depths of his awareness, crushed his temples as it resonated mercilessly trough his mind.

-Arghhh!! What have you done you miserable worm!! What have you done to me!! What have you done!!"-

The force in the man's arm slipped. Vegeta pushed him away, and with fire burning in his lungs and the cries of the alien's agony ringing in head, he reached for the surface.

He broke the water with a wide splash, his head thrown back to his shoulders, and sucked in the sweet, wonderful air. His gasps were still stalled, for his lungs compelled him to cough up the liquid that had violated them. Squinting into the darkness beneath him with a life threatening anxiousness, he searched for the deranged monster, but could not detect him with his poorly adapted eyesight.

While his heart pounded in his ears, and his mind was like a chaotic cluster of raging storms, he urged himself to calm down. To listen carefully for the smallest sound of wrinkling in the water or the breaking of the surface.

With a trembling hand, he rose the shard above his shoulders, ready to strike. He could hear the sounds of dripping water. The rustling of the relentless stream flooding the chamber.

With dread he waited for the warrior to resurface, but it remained quiet around him. Five minutes, ten minutes. Time crept by. The cries of the others began to die down, and his attention started to diminish as his anxiety for a second attack subsided.

He must be dead.

That fishguy must be dead.

He must have killed him.

The word murder sprang to his mind. It was a red tainted, burdened word that had been abstract and impassive before, but was now heavy with its association to death and fear. And despair. The kind that choked the air out of your windpipe and paralyzed you from head to toes. The boy stood perfectly still in the darkness. A sickening sensation washed over his body. What should he do? He understood that he had done something bad. Really bad. Murder was wicked, evil, something so horrid that even his heinous master Dodoria was incapable of. But he, Vegeta, had murdered a man. He had done this bad deed. He will be punished for it.

He will be punished for it severely.

It was not until the freezing cold reached his chin that he noticed the threat that still came from the rising water. The words of the alien were threatening to become true. His chains were indeed too short to permit him keeping his head above the surface. The cuffs on his ankles held him down, and he tugged on these restrains, trying to stretch them as far as he was still able to paddle with his legs. But then the water rose above his lips and he could only breathe through his nostrils. More out of shear panic then of rational thinking, he thrust the shard into the wall, burying it in the mortar between stones. He tried to pull himself up, but it was of no use, since his ankles and wrists were still chained to a bolt that was now at the bottom of the flooded chamber. The shard scratched a deep groove in the sandy texture, and as the boy thrust the piece once again into the damaged area, small fragments of the wall came loose and crumbled on his hand.

A plan dawned in his anxious mind.

Taking a deep breath of air, he plunged into the darkness. His hands grabbed the metal manacles, and he followed the chains that guided him down, till his feet toughed the bottom and he found the metal ring to which they were attached. It was secured into one single stone, embedded in the wall. With his fingers, he traced the grove framing the small rock, and scraped with the shard across these lines.

He kept digging in these soft spots in the wall, only resurfacing for air when he could no longer hold his breath. Slowly but steadily, the stone loosened, and started to move between the others.

With a strong jolt, the stone with the ring was moved half way out of its cavity. Another push with the shard and it would be released. Struggling for air, the boy swam up to breath one last time before he could finish his task. He was no more but a nose length away from the surface, when his chains gave a tug and held him back. Panic flashed in his mind like lightening. Pulling on his restrains desperately, he only managed to get the tip of his forehead to break the surface. Remnants of air began to torment his lungs, as they seemed to expand and stretch. Close to explode. He had to let it go and his hard earned breath departed him in a noisy string of bubbles. Empty now, his body started to protest and urged him to inhale. He had to breathe and fill that terrible emptiness with something, even if it was water. The desire to do so was absolutely painful. Paddling with his legs fervently, he did a last attempt to free that wretched stone out of its cavern, to free himself from his watery tomb, but there was no more strength in his legs. He gave up, closed his eyes and allowed the water to rape his lungs.

He was drifting now. His body weak and limp floating in a big, all embracing darkness. The panic was gone, so was the fear. His mind was serene like the dark fluid surrounding him, penetrating him. Perhaps this is what happens, he wept, this is what happens when you die. I am dying. I'm punished for what I've done. I've been a very bad boy. I've killed, and now, the darkness is killing me.

He bumped into something. Something soft. Fingers, cold and weak like the tentacles of a squid caressed his cheeks, almost as if to comfort him. They stroke through his waving hair lovingly. The tough of a love-struck ghost. He forced open his eyes but could not see. Fear, panic, they rose like the undead jumping out of their graves. In his mind the boy could imagine, could see how the fishman reached out to him with his dead hands, his face drained from color and dark as the water. Hollow were his eyes with an eternal, accusing gaze.

And then his voice entered his mind.

What are you waiting for monkeyboy? You are to join me, aren't you? I died because of you. You murdered me. This was not meant to happen. You were supposed to die, not me!! But it's fine. It's fine because the darkness is a good place to hide. I don't see anymore. I will never see again. I can't feel. I don't feel the cold that has entered my body after it was drained of my blood. It entered and will stay there like a winter that will never end. But it's all fine. It's not too bad to be dead.



Join me, and let me show you how it is down there. Let me show how dark it can be, and how cold. It doesn't hurt to be dead.

It doesn't hurt that much.

"Noooo!!"

A sudden rush of adrenalin powered his exhausted muscles. Legs moving frantically, arms pushing away the floating mass that was once a living, breathing man, but now was the dark embodiment of death. His body twisted around, shaking off the weak, fleshy tough of the corpse. He pulled and tugged on the chains. The pull on his ankles was first strong and merciless, but then conceded as the stone was lugged out of the wall.

He drove himself to the surface, dragging the lose chains behind.

As soon as his lips parted with the water, he heaved the precious air deep into his lungs. Coughing and retching, he spit up the fluid that had entered his system. I'm not going to die here! He thought. I'm not going to let you get me! You are an evil man! I didn't want to kill you, but you forced me. I'm not going to die here with you! I'm not going to die!!

The dead warrior drifted around for a while, then sank to the bottom.

His body shivering of cold and exhaustion, Vegeta swam away from the cursed place of the eerie encounter, towards what he guessed to be the direction of the prisondoor. He could not know for sure though. There was now a strange silence in the vaults. There was no more howling or screaming coming from outside. Even the sound of rustling water from the pipe had quiet down. There was only the trickling of droplets breaking the surface that resonated through the darkness.

Vegeta hauled himself up against the cold steel of the door, finding support as he grabbed the bars of the peephole window. He peered through the small window. Nothing but the same dark abyss that was inside his prison. With his breath still panting, he screamed.

"Help!!! Anybody!!! Help!!! Is there anybody there!?? Help!!!"

He expected or hoped that the rest of the lucky citizens of this place of doom would join him in his pleads, but it remained absolutely silent. It was a drowned world out there. Every living soul had long ago cast out his last breath and had joined the eternal darkness. He was the sole survivor.

He was all alone.

"Anyone!! Anyone who can hear me!! Help me!! Please!!!! Help me!!!"

His pleads echoed through the empty passageway. It entered and left flooded chambers, it pulsed into the water, and was heard by the ears of drowned men, who could no longer listen. Their lifeless bodies waved in an invisible current, like woods of sea anemones shifting to the tides, their feet locked to the bottom of their graves.

"Please!! Help me!!! Release me!!! Release me!!!"

I don't want to die in here. I have tried so very hard to stay alive. It's not fair. This is not fair. Not fair.

I don't want to die.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~

OK, this is NOT the end of the chapter, but I was busy this week, so I could not finish it all in time. Still, a promise is a promise, so there you have the most interesting part of the story. It was getting way too long (what the hell is wrong with me? I wanted to keep it short, but this was the shortest I could get, argghhhh!!!). Another cliffhanger, you guys are going to hang me for this.

The end of this part (and thus the final part of Book I) will be published the 2nd of jan 2002. I will just add it to this chapter as a update. Ow, Happy New Year guys!!!

Ohh, please review and comment on this chapter. It's some new style I was trying and I still don't know if it's working or not.

Cheers Pan.