Love and Blood - Part 4

In the center of the room he stands in the darkness. There is no window to the outside. Only a sliver of red light from the sliding window in his door breaks the blackness. His body relaxes as he concentrates on his surrounding, letting his ki bounce off the concrete walls, tail wrapped around his waist. Then, taut, coiled like a spring, he leaps into the air and rushes east. The air changes, the sound of his breathing grows heavier. With precision, he plants his feet firmly against the wall, pushes off, somersaults in the center, springs to the west.

The thin line of ki ricochets off the opposite wall. He backflips over the return blast, ducks under the final ricochet, handsprings to the west wall, pushes off and lands softly in a crouch at the center of the room, catlike, feral.

Instantly he transmits to the south, delivering a vicious side kick to the concrete, transmits to the north with a flying back kick. THUD! His bare feet smack the wall and it trembles. He transmits east again and delivers three lightning fast punches with callused knuckles until pieces chink off. Climbing the wall, he flips backwards, touches one toe down and spirals in the air, landing softly in the center.

He stands with his head down, fists clenched at his side, eyes closed. He breathes deeply, evenly, concentrates. Slowly, the power builds, lightning crackles from his fingertips.

he whispers, baring his fangs. Anger burns hot as the sun, the power builds, his aura glows red.

His lips part in a silent roar. walls tremble, floor quakes, muscles bulge with the strain black locks spring straight up, waving in the tempest of his aura, energy rippling up the strands black eyes blaze to green, raven hair bursts into gold, golden waves of energy lick up his body and swirl around the air in a blast that rocks the entire room.

Kakarot snarls, lips pulled back in a terrible rictus of rage and anguish; his aura pulsates.

He snaps his hand out and shoots a blast that explodes a corner of the thick concrete, sending pieces flying into the air that disintegrate upon touching his aura. Instantly he regrets the lapse of judgment and powers down. They'll be coming soon.

But this time the guards are asleep on the job, and Kakarot's nighttime maneuvers go completely unnoticed. He sinks onto his mat, the only furnishing in the room, and prays for daylight.

Soon, Fasha, he whispers into the blackness. Soon I'll avenge you. And my father. Then he falls into a dreamless sleep.

*******

Where is Prince Vejita, Zarbon? Frieza whirs around in his lift to face his lackey.

He's training, sire. Did you wish to see him? Zarbon dabs delicately at his hair.

Frieza is quiet, fingers drumming on the lift's console, his mouth is drawn down in a scowl.

He wants a sparring partner, Frieza says. I'm beginning to regret my decision to let him live.

But, sire, it's been three years. The people...

The people don't know what they want! Frieza screams, clenching his fists.

L-lord Frieza! Begging your pardon, sire, but if something should happen to the prince... Zarbon quakes at his own insolence, waiting for the death blow. But Frieza relaxes.

Let's give him what he wants. Frieza's smile is cold. Choose one of the Saiyan prisoners. Keep a close eye on them. It won't do to have them become too strong. You know what to do if any of them show potentially dangerous...levels.

******

You! Boy! Come here!

The massive door slowly grates open and Kakarot blinks in the bright light. It takes awhile for his pupils to adjust to the glare.

Time for my daily walk? Kakarot sneers, knowing full well that he'll probably get a beating for even opening his mouth.

The guard grits his teeth. Watch your tongue, he hisses. The only reason I'm not sticking a knife into your belly is because Lord Frieza himself has requested you. He puts a beefy hand into the middle of Kakarot's back and shoves.

The Saiyan feigns a stumble, smiling into the ground and shuffles out. This might be my chance...only this one guard...

Eyes shifting quickly from side to side, Kakarot looks for an opportunity, but it's not to be. Another guard appears.

Watch this one, the first guard says. He's not as dumb as he pretends to be.

The second guard grunts. Why did Lord Frieza request this one?

The request came from General Zarbon. I don't think Lord Frieza knows one Saiyan from another.

The second guard laughs, a guttural sound. He pushes Kakarot toward the training gym. They all smell the same, like a Medusian rat he says, and they both roar at the joke.

Well, here we are, your worship. You're about to be given the greatest honor any Saiyan can receive. The guard's mouth twists in a sardonic grin, and he bows. He pushes the door open and shoves Kakarot in.

In the center of the gym a man stood, arms folded, a smirk on his handsome face. The fabric of his tight training uniform stretched taut over sinewy muscles. His power level was indescribable. Kakarot just stared, and then with measured dignity, he placed a fist over his heart and bowed.
My prince, he whispers.

The Saiyan prince grins wickedly, and Kakarot and Vejita come face to face for the first time.