DBAH:
Intermission
Eric Kinneary
"Super Kaio-ken!" a voice rocketed. A blue ball of energy twined its way down, taking hold of his body and shaking it roughly. The man's body was tossed like a rag doll to the ground, pure energy barreling onto his weakened form, slicing him in half under the intense heat. He tried to fight back, but the extreme pressure was too much for him to take. The energy slowly dissipated, leaving him alone, bleeding across the spongy ground he was surrounded by. And as time passed, he could see another figure hiding high in the sky, only his outline vaguely visible. And laughter... Laughter filtered down through the air to reach his ears. It wasn't a cold laugh. Or a warm laugh. It was simply... a laugh. But it still pierced his skin, filling him with remorseful dread, and unimaginable fear. It threatened insanity with its monstrosity, never ceasing, not for a moment. It was pure torture...
And he'd brought this about. His loathing of others. His hate for the admirable. It was all his doing. He could have prevented it. It was never his place to judge others; it was never his place to punish. But he did. And in turn, he too was punished. He would pay the price for the rest of eternity, the laughter always haunting him, never resting. But such was the way of Hell. And this was his hell. For attempting destruction where only peace existed, his punishment was supreme. It would never end. As long as he existed he deserved eternal confinement, eternal damnation, trapped within himself. And then... ever so slightly... he began to hear his tormentor whisper his name...
"Diamo... Diamao..."
------------------------
Piccolo awoke with a start, gasping for air. He heard it again. Sometimes Diamao's thoughts would leak quietly into his mind while he slept, causing him to wake up panting. It was one of those nights again. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, but after glancing down quickly he was reminded that he was still perched atop Mt. Kaio-kaikai, the highest mountain in Other World. He had come here regularly lately; it was more peaceful then most of Other World. He didn't have to worry about the noise below; instead, he was free to meditate peacefully. In fact, he hadn't been to his mansion in nearly two weeks. Ever since incorporating Diamao into himself, he found that he had shrunk a little bit farther back into his recluse state he once enveloped himself in. He was slowly fighting it off, however, as he went to Gohan's house every other day, reminding himself of his friends. Even Vegeta was trying to help him, somewhat. Of course, the saiyan prince's definition of help was to offer daily sparring matches. But then again, the namek had a feeling it was more to help Vegeta redeem himself for losing against him the first time.
Piccolo grunted to himself and closed his eyes, sitting himself back down cross-legged.
------------------------
Goten wiped the sleep from his eyes droopily. He had been careful not to wake up Marron, she was on 'that time of the month,' but she wouldn't admit it. Goten almost regretted everyone being given back their youthful bodies when they came to Other World, he had gotten used to not having to deal with that when they were older. But it was eight in the morning, what was the point of thinking about it?
------------------------
Piccolo soared through the Other World skies, spying silently at the warriors far below him as they trained indefinitely, hoping for their one chance to receive a private training lesson from the Grand Kai. Over the years, he had become increasingly impressed by the skill exhibited by these fresh recruits. And, by cause and effect, the villains they were forced to deal with on the mortal plane were also incredibly strong. The universe had even found a replacement for Saiyans called the Turrelians. Although, they were mostly reptilian in looks. Piccolo had never seen one, but from descriptions given to him by the inhabitants of Other World, they were painfully strong and apparently followed the same path as the Saiyans in their day. Violent, crazed, honor bound and insanely powerful. Of course, the Z Warriors weren't allowed to step in at that particular part of the development of the universe. Well, not until the Turrelians actually became a threat to the security of a galaxy anyway.
As his training mantle flapped across his body, the namekian flew higher into the air to escape the noise generated by the populace. He found more peace when he was alone with his thoughts, uninhibited by the bustle of Other World. But as he found more and more peace, he also found conflict. Diamao's hatred of others was quite easy to defeat after several days of intense meditation. But his morality and sense of worthlessness... That was proving to be a much harder foe to tackle. Even though his strength rivaled that of the almighty Goku, that wasn't enough. He needed more to thrive on, more for life. He needed to be useful. Hell, in the six months that had passed he still wasn't back up to his mental par.
But Gohan had a way to change that.
Intermission
Eric Kinneary
"Super Kaio-ken!" a voice rocketed. A blue ball of energy twined its way down, taking hold of his body and shaking it roughly. The man's body was tossed like a rag doll to the ground, pure energy barreling onto his weakened form, slicing him in half under the intense heat. He tried to fight back, but the extreme pressure was too much for him to take. The energy slowly dissipated, leaving him alone, bleeding across the spongy ground he was surrounded by. And as time passed, he could see another figure hiding high in the sky, only his outline vaguely visible. And laughter... Laughter filtered down through the air to reach his ears. It wasn't a cold laugh. Or a warm laugh. It was simply... a laugh. But it still pierced his skin, filling him with remorseful dread, and unimaginable fear. It threatened insanity with its monstrosity, never ceasing, not for a moment. It was pure torture...
And he'd brought this about. His loathing of others. His hate for the admirable. It was all his doing. He could have prevented it. It was never his place to judge others; it was never his place to punish. But he did. And in turn, he too was punished. He would pay the price for the rest of eternity, the laughter always haunting him, never resting. But such was the way of Hell. And this was his hell. For attempting destruction where only peace existed, his punishment was supreme. It would never end. As long as he existed he deserved eternal confinement, eternal damnation, trapped within himself. And then... ever so slightly... he began to hear his tormentor whisper his name...
"Diamo... Diamao..."
------------------------
Piccolo awoke with a start, gasping for air. He heard it again. Sometimes Diamao's thoughts would leak quietly into his mind while he slept, causing him to wake up panting. It was one of those nights again. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, but after glancing down quickly he was reminded that he was still perched atop Mt. Kaio-kaikai, the highest mountain in Other World. He had come here regularly lately; it was more peaceful then most of Other World. He didn't have to worry about the noise below; instead, he was free to meditate peacefully. In fact, he hadn't been to his mansion in nearly two weeks. Ever since incorporating Diamao into himself, he found that he had shrunk a little bit farther back into his recluse state he once enveloped himself in. He was slowly fighting it off, however, as he went to Gohan's house every other day, reminding himself of his friends. Even Vegeta was trying to help him, somewhat. Of course, the saiyan prince's definition of help was to offer daily sparring matches. But then again, the namek had a feeling it was more to help Vegeta redeem himself for losing against him the first time.
Piccolo grunted to himself and closed his eyes, sitting himself back down cross-legged.
------------------------
Goten wiped the sleep from his eyes droopily. He had been careful not to wake up Marron, she was on 'that time of the month,' but she wouldn't admit it. Goten almost regretted everyone being given back their youthful bodies when they came to Other World, he had gotten used to not having to deal with that when they were older. But it was eight in the morning, what was the point of thinking about it?
------------------------
Piccolo soared through the Other World skies, spying silently at the warriors far below him as they trained indefinitely, hoping for their one chance to receive a private training lesson from the Grand Kai. Over the years, he had become increasingly impressed by the skill exhibited by these fresh recruits. And, by cause and effect, the villains they were forced to deal with on the mortal plane were also incredibly strong. The universe had even found a replacement for Saiyans called the Turrelians. Although, they were mostly reptilian in looks. Piccolo had never seen one, but from descriptions given to him by the inhabitants of Other World, they were painfully strong and apparently followed the same path as the Saiyans in their day. Violent, crazed, honor bound and insanely powerful. Of course, the Z Warriors weren't allowed to step in at that particular part of the development of the universe. Well, not until the Turrelians actually became a threat to the security of a galaxy anyway.
As his training mantle flapped across his body, the namekian flew higher into the air to escape the noise generated by the populace. He found more peace when he was alone with his thoughts, uninhibited by the bustle of Other World. But as he found more and more peace, he also found conflict. Diamao's hatred of others was quite easy to defeat after several days of intense meditation. But his morality and sense of worthlessness... That was proving to be a much harder foe to tackle. Even though his strength rivaled that of the almighty Goku, that wasn't enough. He needed more to thrive on, more for life. He needed to be useful. Hell, in the six months that had passed he still wasn't back up to his mental par.
But Gohan had a way to change that.