The Mystery about Romancing HalfCyborgs

by Mint Chips

To make a long summary short, Piccolo has been foolish enough to fall for a half-monkey. Not a substantial story, but it works. Rated R for blood and suggestive themes.

13. RD: Dumb Blondes

Notes-In this alternate universe of DBZ, there are four layers of Hell. First is what is dubbed in the English version 'Place of Infinite Losers', where Goku fell off of Snake Way (referring to it as 'Jigoku'). Second layer is Felosmus, sort of a second division of the first layer (and the most crowded), and hardly worth mentioning. The main focus of this story, however, is the third layer, which is called Dysodea. However, the worst Hell to get condemned to is what is fondly referred to as 'The Icebox Hell', though its formal name is The Hall of Ice.

~

Piccolo's eyes blinked. All he could see was blood red all around him. He couldn't tell one thing from the other; even if he looked at his hands, Piccolo wouldn't be able to distinguish them apart. Everything was a heavy sheet of scarlet. The poor soul closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Wafting into his nostrils was the cold smell of blood.

Disgusting… thought Piccolo, Even the air here is soaked of blood…

A heavy, cold, crimson mist was clouding his vision, and now parted away willingly. A trickle of sweat slid down the side of Piccolo's face. The mist had given way to the humidity in the area, making him sweat, and it seemed to change the colors all around him, making the surroundings more distinguishable. Dysodea was a cheerless place, though certainly not lacking in the dry, dark maroon of stubby grass dying beneath Piccolo's feet. Sparse cherry blossom trees grew here and there, barely reaching the height of six feet, though the shade of deep, rich red bark went well with their faded fragile blossoms. Scarlet mountains loomed above in the distance, as he sensed, where pink snow would stay but could not fall. Piccolo looked up to see that the sky had also changed. It was a swirling mass of bright red.

Dysodea…

A rustling sound nearby disturbed his open thoughts. He instantly whirled around and struck a fighting stance. The noise had come from a bush behind him. Leaves rustled once more as Piccolo shouted at the bush.

"Who are you! Come out of there!"

Another rustle answered him. Piccolo's senses were suddenly overwhelmed with a strange, icy feeling gripping him like a vice. He was suddenly aware of something like arms wrapping around his shoulders and spreading downwards. A breath of cold steely ice pierced him like a spear, clinging and stinging to his neck. The feeling wasn't right and Piccolo immediately tried to shake it off. It was evil, he knew, and it could only come from being in Hell. Even as he fought this force, he still held his focus on the suspicious bush.

"I'm warning you!"

The bush stopped its rustling. Piccolo could suddenly feel himself relax, and the cold feeling subsided. A shadow rose from the bush, with extremely feminine curves. Piccolo's eyes widened a little as a head of glossy raven-black hair lifted to reveal a white face with bright scarlet lips and large, cat-shaped eyes. The girl stood up to her full height of a mere five feet four (compared to Piccolo's eight feet), appearing to a teenager. Her clothes easily supported this thought. A sleeveless red shirt with three black stripes and torn jean capris, along with a black ribbon tied to her right wrist was her attire. Her feet were bare, but all nails were painted the same shade as her lips, and a simple gold anklet wound around her left ankle. A pair of leathery dragon wings stretched as the girl stepped from the bush, her manner cool and calm.

"There is no need to attack me, Namekian," she said lightly, her voice slightly too, what Piccolo thought, 'creamy' for her, "I was only watching."

A shiver passed through Piccolo. There was something wrong and he knew it, though the girl seemed all right enough, as if standing in the presence of potential punishment and wondering if you've done anything wrong. That reassuring smile of hers couldn't be genuine. And something in her voice triggered an old memory…

"I'm new, if you haven't noticed," replied Piccolo, his voice devoid of any quavers he might've felt, "Who are you?"

"I'm Callistus…Of the Beautiful."

Her eyes glinted.

"Who are you?" she asked sweetly.

"Piccolo," said Piccolo curtly, then added as if to impress her, "Former Demon King and son of Piccolo Daimao."

"Really?"

There was a hint of amusement in her voice. Piccolo felt himself tense, wondering wildly for a second if he should have to defend himself.

"Problem?" he said with more force than he intended.

"No, no…"

The girl---Callistus---smiled at him and folded her arms, as if it pleased her to aggravate the former Demon King.

"…I just find it hard to believe that I'm actually meeting the son of Piccolo Daimao…"

Piccolo waited, not letting up in his fighting stance.

"…Whose father killed my mother…"

Piccolo didn't even flinch.

"My father killed thousands of people," he said matter-of-factly, "It's not something I'm particularly proud of, and I'd prefer that you don't mention it again."

Callistus smiled, her pearly white teeth exposing fangs, and turned her head to her side. Amusement was clearly written in her face as she closed her eyes, as if to hide from Piccolo the mirth that was dancing in them.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Piccolo," she said, sounding his name out slowly, "It is not the first time someone has killed thousands of people…"

She turned her head back to him.

"…You and your father are one of many who have done such crimes. And hardly many of them end up here, and you should be thankful. Most of them end up going to the Icebox Hell…trapped for all eternity in ice…"

Her eyes opened. Piccolo was surprised to learn that their color was shockingly ordinary: brown. There were rather deep shades of brown, though, almost black, with some flecks of gold in them.

"…Regretting…hating…it doesn't matter, because you're dead and it's done. Yes, Piccolo, you should be grateful to the Judge of the Dead. He was only kind enough to send you here instead."

Callistus stretched her dragon-like wings. For a fleeting moment, Piccolo thought there was a change. A vision passed over his eyes, that depicted of Callistus…dressed in a flowing ebony dress and pearls and her thin white fingers running through endless raven hair, eyes flashing, and laughing…Standing alone in a world soaked with red… Piccolo shook his head, the sight passing away.

What the hell was that?

"Who are you?" he found himself saying, slowly, as his memory found the vision again.

The girl seemed more amused than ever. She held her right elbow in her left hand while her fingers twirled her hair.

"I told you, Piccolo," she said, "My name is…"

"No," cut in Piccolo, "I mean… Where do you come from? What have you done?"

Callistus' face turned sour, and her fingers stopped twirling.

"Oh…that."

As if finding Piccolo suddenly distasteful, she turned her back on him. Piccolo held out a hand, suddenly feeling an urge to reach for her.

"Wait…"

Without his knowing, Callistus secretly smiled again, her eyes narrowing slightly with pleasure.

How cute…

"It's all right, Namekian," she said, "I just want to talk someplace quiet…"

As Piccolo climbed up the hill, Callistus' grin grew wider.

…Yes, you should be grateful, son of Piccolo Daimao…

~

A good time had passed since Goku's phone call. Everyone was tense, waiting the kitchen. All had hastily taken showers and borrowed fresh clothes in a hurried preparation for Goku's arrival. When jinounzingen were on the loose, there wouldn't be much time to wait. Now, as the minutes ticked by, it seemed everyone was on the edge of breaking loose and searching for Goku like agitated bees freed from boxes. However, Bulma held them back, weak as she was, urging them to wait, because "Goku will be here any second!"

"It's been almost half an hour since he called!" argued Trunks, his face flushed, "The jinounzingen have probably blown up ten cities by now! Every second counts!"

"Goku has never failed us before," said Bulma firmly, "He'll be here."

Just in time, a knock came from the kitchen door. Pen rushed over and opened it. Standing in front of him was a girl, a stormy expression riding her face. Pen's eyes popped open.

"Paiji!?" he exclaimed.

Trunks shoved passed him, knocking Pen onto the floor, his own eyes widening in pure disbelief. He blocked the doorway, so those who were curious of the newcomer had to peep over Trunks' shoulders.

"Pai Pai!?" Trunks cried, his astonished voice holding traces of sheer happiness, "You're alive!? How? I mean, I…"

Before the girl could reply, he had swept her off her feet and was swinging her around. Everyone's jaw dropped as they witnessed Trunks plant a big wet kiss on the girl's lips. Bulma was especially shocked, and she started asking Basu and Pen: "Just who is my son kissing?"

"Um, that's Paiji," said Basu, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "She's, um, Trunks' best friend…"

"And?" said Bulma, raising an eyebrow, knowing there was more.

"…Girlfriend…"

Bulma stood rooted to the spot. Her expression was priceless. However, she snapped out of her reverie as she heard the sounds of protest from the girl.

"Trunks! Now is not the time! Goku is hurt!"

There was a scuffle, and Bulma pushed her way through the crowd to find Trunks looking dazed and hurt as the girl marched away from him to the back lawn. There, lying face up in the grass was a very bloodied-up Goku.

"Tou-san!" shouted Gohan, running forward.

The girl whirled around and stared at Gohan, her face turning white like a sheet. Gohan paused, confused.

"Sensei!?" the girl called out to Gohan.

Gohan's eyes widened. The girl suddenly shook her head vigorously and started again towards Goku. Beside Goku was a boy with black hair and dark eyes, grasping a rope that was tied to the wrists of two unconscious women in the grass.

"Hey! Those are fighters who were with Sotari!" Gohan said, pointing at them, "What are they…?"

"We found them," said the boy, waving a hand, "Let's get them in the rejuvenation tanks!"

"How did…" Kuririn started, but beside him, Basu waved a hand.

"Later, Kuririn…Later."

"Why rejuvenation?" the bald monk persisted, remembering their dead comrades, "We should kill them now before…"

"They might be helpful," Basu interrupted with his lame excuse.

Doubtful, but too weak to intervene, Kuririn shoved his hands in his pockets and went to kitchen for more tea. The others soon followed, and all congregated in the emergency room, ears attentive and open for listening. How an extremely long story of the broken future was told in less than six minutes in there, in the presence of managing the controls for the rejuvenation tanks, was beyond anyone's state of thought. Trunks told some parts in very graphic detail, making people cringe, especially Bulma.

"…Is that…" he said, his eyes wide and stunned, "…What happens…To Vegeta?"

Trunks nodded.

"My poor baby!"

"Kaa-san, it's all right," gasped Trunks as his mother gave him a death hug, "It's okay, really…"

"No time for sentiment!" said Kuririn, gripping his fists, "We can't let any more time pass us by! It's time now to finish this once and for all!"

"Right!" said Bulma, releasing Trunks, "Okay! With Goku out, we'll divide into new groups…"

"Including me?" interjected a voice.

Everyone turned to face the boy with dark hair.

"Oh, you, Denno?" said Basu, smiling, "Of course!"

"Oye, what about me," said the girl (whose name is Paiji), a small scowl crossing her face, "Don't I…"

"Yes, yes," reassured Bulma quickly, who was developing a slight distaste for the girl, "You can go with Basu, Kuririn, Denno to go after Sotari."

She turned to the others.

"I'll wake Vegeta up again so he can go with the rest of you (Pen, Gohan, Trunks) to find the jinounzingen."

"But Kaa-san!" protested Trunks, grabbing hold of his mother's arm, "I want to stay here…"

"That's all right," said Bulma quickly, anxious to wake Vegeta, "We can…"

"I'll stay here, too," volunteered Kuririn, then added, "No telling whether those jinounzingen will attack Capsule Corp or not."

"All right, then," said Basu, "Let's go!"

"Un ga ii (good luck)," murmured Bulma, Trunks, and Kuririn as the fighters filed out of the kitchen door.

When the last one was out the door, Trunks and Kuririn departed for the emergency room as Bulma turned to the chair where Vegeta was lying unconscious.

"Wake up, Vegeta!" shouted Bulma, shaking the Saiyajin roughly, "Come on! They're…"

"WHAT!?" Vegeta's roar echoed in the mansion as he knocked Bulma to the floor, "WHERE ARE THEY!?!?"

"No! The jinounzingen aren't here!" yelled Bulma, "You have to go with Pen and Gohan to…"

Vegeta paused a moment, cocking an eyebrow.

"Pen? Who'd name their spawn after a…"

"Just get going!" interrupted Bulma, "They're waiting for you to go fight the jinounzingen and…"

"Wait! I'm not…"

"They'll explain everything later!"

"All right," grunted Vegeta, "Just as long as I get to…"

"Yes, yes! Go and kill those jinounzingen for me, will you?"

Vegeta started for the door, grinning at Bulma with that familiar evil-Vegeta smile.

"And that other mudblood Saiyajin…She is not dead?"

Bulma shook her head.

"Good…Good-bye, Onna."

"Wait!"

The Saiyajin Prince paused a moment, puzzled, as Bulma's hand dove into her pocket for something. She rushed forward and held out something that glittered in the light. Even more bewildered, Vegeta held out his hand…to receive a bracelet. The charms were of small, round diamonds of equal size and shape, linking to each other like an endless line of circles. Vegeta's eyebrow was raised again. He recognized this.

"Onna," he said with slight exasperation in his voice, "This is---what you humans call---'good luck charm'. Why are you giving…"

He didn't finish his sentence as Bulma suddenly leapt forward and threw her arms around his neck.

"Just promise me," said Bulma, closing her eyes tightly, remembering Trunks' story, "That you'll come back…"

"What? What's a promise?"

It was Bulma's turn to sigh with irritation.

"You Saiyajins!" she muttered under her breath, then to Vegeta, "It's a human thing, Vegeta. It's like…you'll do something for someone no matter what will happen."

"Oh," said Vegeta, rolling his eyes, "An order."

"No, no! It's not something you have to do or die, but…Out of love."

"What?"

"Just do it, you blockhead!"

"Onna…"

Vegeta's eyes turned to the open kitchen door.

"Let go of me…"

Reluctantly, she did, and Vegeta left…But not without the bracelet.

~

Sotari's eyes shifted from her left to her right, sensing a shivering presence in the early afternoon forest air. For a warm, early afternoon, the forest seemed to possess a deathly chill, like what a funeral does to a household.

Something isn't right…

Migino stood stiffly behind Sotari, breathing quietly. The two women were in some woods now, not far from the coast, whose ocean held the very island they came from. It was Migino's idea to head for the mainland and travel inwards. At first, it seemed like a reasonable idea. But as soon as Sotari touched the sand she knew there was something wrong. Perhaps it was the way of the landscape; Grass was scanty, gray, and coarse. Despite the excellent weather, no flowers had dared shown their faces. Life in this part of the forest was slow and gloomy; the feeling was uncomfortable, finding places to inhabit in the trees, grass, and undergrowth. It was in the air, too, faintly, but there. Even the animals seemed to have sensed it, and had gone away. What was really beginning to frustrate Sotari now was that she didn't know what it was that was so amiss.

"What can be so wrong?" she said aloud, then looking at Migino, "Don't you sense it, too?"

Her companion gazed past Sotari, and Sotari looked ahead. Migino seemed to be staring at a space between two enormous trees that towered and ruled above all others like kings of old. Golden-yellow light flowed through their leaves and past the tough bark, penetrating the forest's darkness like a heavenly gate. Sotari's eyes narrowed, using her robotic senses to focus into the light. When there was nothing, she starting to squint, and then saw it… Nearly totally obscured from view by the undergrowth, a rounded translucent object could be seen, the light bouncing off its smooth surface.

"What…" Sotari found herself whispering, "…Is that?"

Before she knew it, Sotari found herself flying towards the two trees and object, Migino wordlessly following. When Sotari reached the trees, she realized that they were actually on the edge of a very steep slope, their twisted ancient roots hanging carelessly over, stumbling over rocks and around bushes. Sotari wondered briefly just how long those trees had been there. She motioned to Migino about the slope. She flew a few feet in the air and hovered, looking around for the round object she saw. It was then the very moment she caught her first glimpse of…

"The time machine!"

Sotari flew down to the ground, her eyes fixed on a strange-looking object simply covered with green plants, wondering…

"How the hell did this get here?"

She brushed away part of the green, revealing a word scribed in fine black: "Freedom!" It was the time machine all right. Momentary flashes of memory came to Sotari, bringing her back three years ago…To a boy with blue eyes and a terrible swift sword…And his friends: A girl of golden hair and fierce intentions…The boy whose kind smile would lighten even the most depressed of hearts… It all came back in a few brief seconds, reminding Sotari of the vehicle they had so abruptly arrived in. That very same vehicle was standing before her now, plain and as real as day, but it unnerved Sotari to think…

"What happened?"

Her hand ran across the green again, crumbling more off the smooth surface.

"This looks like it's been here for years…But I thought they left three years ago…"

Sotari closed her eyes, sensing far away ki, not trusting her own memories.

"…I sense their presence…And others, too… But I don't understand."

The pink eyes opened again.

"…Could they have left this machine here the last time? But there was only one…And who else would have the word 'Freedom' written here? And who would drive it?"

"I know," spoke up a voice behind Sotari.

The half-Saiyajin's eyes shifted their glance at Migino, who still stood between the trees. Sunlight fell across her face and her hair, making her appearance gentle and innocent. Not a trace of the previous violence seemed to be there, though those haunting, mournful eyes held secrets.

"Cell."

For a moment, Sotari was stunned. Struck dumb, she gaped at Migino, wondering how she could know of such things, despite the fact that Sotari's very blood flowed within Migino's veins. Then, as the silence swiftly passed, a sudden growth of hatred and anger swelled in her breast. She gripped her pale fists so hard that her nails dug semicircles in her palms. Her eyes lit a furious fire.

"Liar," she said in a dangerous tone, "That's not…"

Migino interrupted her, an alien expression of anger setting her face afire. Sotari didn't back down, taking a step forward, but Migino receded into a sitting position, one hand curled around her knee and still scowling.

"You doubt me," she said, and Sotari knew it wasn't a question.

The girl's sorrowful front was cast away and forgotten, and Migino's new personality surfaced, throwing more spite and malice than Sotari could've ever mustered. Even her speech had become more pointed, less feeling, and short. It was doubtful of exactly what part of Sotari was the girl supposed to be.

"It's true; don't even deny it. He came here by the time machine. From one of those timelines Trunks created. Had to become larvae; broke out from his egg case (inside time machine) when he came (three years ago). Come to get you (you probably didn't survive in the future) and androids. Present Cell won't be born for a while, so no worry from him."

The half-Saiyajin stood, speechless, but hardly scarce of anger. She was on the verge of smashing Migino's face with a ki blast when her voice cut her attack short.

"Why kill me, Sotari?"

A rare, grim smile curled Migino's lips, so brief that the sight seemed more imaginary than real.

"I am you," Migino continued, "Cell will kill you. Don't wish to leave something behind? Not your children…Having Piccolo's spoiled blood. Why not me? Own flesh and blood…"

Her offer almost made Sotari mad with rage. How dare she! Whatever Piccolo had done, his noble blood was nothing to be ashamed of! She marched right up the slope to that girl, and, hardly conscious of what she was doing, grabbed her throat and held her high above the air.

"Take that back," she spat, her voice full of venom, "You filthy little street whore; flesh and blood my ass, you are nothing like me. Who the hell are you to claim you are part of me? A damn suntan and killing Yamcha isn't anything!"

"Isn't it?" Migino answered evenly despite the situation.

Sotari wasn't willing to give Migino even a chance, but before anything else happened, Migino was talking again.

"Fine," she said, "You want proof? I know why Gero 'created' you then."

The half-Saiyajin paused, and her grip loosened slightly. Migino stole the advantage and told her tale, leisurely taking her time.

"It all started long ago, when Dr. Gero was first creating androids. He wondered and dreamed if there was any possible way to create a perfect being. After many years, he succeeded, but there was a problem. His creation could reach perfection, but it could not maintain it. In tests, it was revealed that once his creation achieved that stage, something very strange would occur…something that could ruin everything. Cell would change. Not to more perfection, but back to imperfection."

"He would grow backwards, spitting up the androids and turning back into his imperfect forms. Eventually, he'd go back to the larvae he was and stay that way. There was no real cause for this problem, but nonetheless, Gero need a solution. After much research, he found that an extra absorbent was needed…But not just any kind, but one that could match in power and DNA with Cell. Goku was briefly considered, but Cell rejected it. All the other Z Senshi were tested, but each time it was not compatible. As a last resort, Gero started after the DNA files of humans, seeking the perfect match. It wasn't until one day, when a woman broke into his lab…"

Sotari's curt voice sliced the air like a knife, her eyes flashing with loathing, having to be satisfied with Migino's presentation. However, the feelings of bellicose resentment lingered, and she dropped Migino to the ground like a sack of rice.

"There is no need to tell the rest."

~

Piccolo leaned back against the wall of the cave and breathed deeply. Of all places in Dysodea, this cave was the only location that didn't have such a heavy smell of blood within. As Piccolo had discovered, while flying over the landscape behind Callistus, that everything was of blood. Even the water was saturated with it, and tasted like it. However, fortunate for this cave, it was behind a bloody waterfall, which seemed to serve as a shield from most of the scarlet fumes, causing the air inside to be more bearable. Callistus sat next to the Namekian.

"Better?" she said in her creamy voice.

The former Demon King nodded, his eyes closed.

"Good," she said, smiling, "Now would you like to know where I come from, Piccolo, son of Piccolo Daimao?"

"You seem to be proud of the fact that I am my father's son," said Piccolo, opening his eyes and gazing at Callistus, "I would've thought you'd hate me and him for killing your mother."

"You aren't like your father," Callistus explained, "And I find that…interesting."

Both of Piccolo's eyebrows raised, but he didn't say anything. Callistus grinned, her fangs and her large brown eyes seeming to glow in the dim red light.

"My mother's name was Phaedra of the Tragic. She had the proud ancestry of the Onibeing race flowing within her, but it was unfortunate that her blood was spoiled by a trusting nature…Too trusting, I might added…"

Her eyes glinted, perhaps with resent.

"…Like a weakling human's…"

Piccolo stared straight into her eyes, fascinated by they way they reminded him of something…He tugged back at his memory, trying to remember…But it was gone as Callistus' voice pierced his thoughts with her story.

"…Because of her great splendor, as all Onibeings are beautiful, and her foolishness, my mother was too easily manipulated by many. Among those…"

Callistus' eyes flickered again, this time, with something beyond definition.

Hate?

"…Was your father, Namekian…Piccolo Daimao, the True Demon King. Some time after that, I was born. It is not known who the father was, but I have inherited much from Him…"

She stared at the ground.

"…The news of my birth spread around my planet like wild flame. When Onibeings give birth, it is loathed and dreaded like death itself. For we, as you might know, our race is not loved…Because of our fantastic powers, we are regarded as demons and devils, collectors of dirty pennies, witches…All those abhorred names seemed to be part of my heritage. There are countless stories of those sorts of massacres and the slaughter of my people for so many years, that no one remembers when it actually started…Most of it is fantasy and lies, I tell you!"

"But I digress…While my mother labored, the people of the planet worked to kill me. As you might have guessed, it was not the native planet of Ori that my mother resided, and so the people feared, my feared arrival chilling their hearts and torturing their minds. So my mother fled into the dark wilderness, and gave birth to me by a lake. Onibeings' memories go back from the time of birth, so out of fear, my mother told me of my heritage and other things while we fled the planet, in case she was killed. Phaedra did not have long to wait."

"At the human age of four, my mother was taken from me by angry mob…I was alone for half a human year after that, and then, one day, a male of the Min'yoo race took me into his care. His name was Lord Pelias, and he taught me many things. I then wandered away from him and his family at the human age of 16 when they were killed by their jealous relatives, traveling around the universe, learning…"

It was on the tip of Piccolo's tongue to ask what she did to deserve Dysodea, but Callistus stood up and stretched.

"I am tired, Namekian," she said, yawning, and turning her back to Piccolo, "Do you wish to stay here?"

Piccolo hesitated. Though her story was perfectly understandable, it still did nothing to shake his earliest impression. There was still something wrong. Something that Callistus hadn't told him. Her eyes flashed at him in the red darkness. The former Demon King suddenly felt that icy feeling again…Less power than the vice, but he could feel it wrapping around his neck, like a noose slowly cutting away at him.

"Well?" he heard Callistus' voice, with a touch of impatience.

"I have no need for sleep," replied Piccolo gruffly, "I'll go."

He turned his back to her, ready to fly off back into the humid redness. The ice feeling had grown stronger, and Piccolo immediately kicked off from the ledge and splashed through the bloody waterfall. As soon as he passed through the warm liquid, he felt his temperature instantly go back to normal. The Namekian paused and looked back a moment at the cave. That desire to reach for her was back again… Piccolo had never felt this way before…for anyone.

Even Sotari… His thoughts hardened. That's over now…

"Why do you hesitate?" he heard a creamy voice behind him, an arm around his neck, and the other tugging at his sash.

Annoyed, Piccolo put one hand on the one around his neck, and the other grabbed the one at his sash, releasing himself. He scowled a little at a grinning Callistus.

"What are you doing?"

She only smiled back.

"Piccolo," she said sweetly, "It's Hell…We can do…Whatever we want."

To Piccolo's disgust, her arms wound around his neck again.

"…Why not?" she said, her sugary voice aggravating Piccolo.

There was a pause. For a moment, Piccolo wondered…

Sotari would never be like this…

"Shove off," replied Piccolo evenly as he put on a sudden spurt of speed, leaving behind a very angry, but not daunted, Callistus.

"I'll have you, son of Piccolo Daimao," she murmured, a Saiyajin-like glint in her eye as the Namekian flew off in the distance, "To the edges of Dysodea, I will hunt you…Anything…To make you forget…"

Her eyes gleamed fire, a feeling of hatred swelling in her breast.

"…Sotari…"

~

The sounds of the TV reached Trunks' ears as he leaned against the wall of the emergency room.

"Look at that! Mr. Satan is pulling three double-decker buses behind him! Now he's ripping three telephone books! Listen to that crowd roar!" shouted the announcer from the set, "Mr. Satan, do you have anything to say about those twins that have ravaged Pink Town, Blue City, and Red Village?"

"That I'll rip 'em apart, like this!" mimicked Trunks as Mr. Satan yelled his answer into the microphone.

Trunks could hear Kuririn turn off the television. He could see his small, shiny head over the couch as Kuririn called to him: "Hey! How'd you know he'd say that?"

The half-Saiyajin opened up a bright blue eye.

"Nine years from now," he said, folding his arms, "He'll say the very same thing…and get killed."

"Oh," said Kuririn, "Well, he said just it now. Do you think he'll die soon?"

"No," replied Trunks, "This time is too screwed up to be sure when anybody will die."

Kuririn settled back in the couch.

"I sometimes wish he'd kick the bucket," he muttered, turning the set back on, "Such a stupid showoff."

Trunks grinned and opened his eyes. However, his thoughts shunned away from the light-hearted matters and turned his back to Kuririn and television. His eyes traced back to the rejuvenation tanks holding Goku and the two captive women. He observed the women's recovered weapons lying on the table nearby.

"Who the hell are they?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't know," replied a voice to his right.

The Saiyajin Prince's son smiled.

"Hello, Kaa-san," he said without looking.

Bulma flipped on the lights.

"What are you doing here in the dark?"

Trunks hesitated.

"Thinking," he finally said.

"About that girl?" said Bulma, now beside her son, "Paiji, wasn't it?"

She crossed her arms and frowned a little bit.

"It figures. I don't think much of her, Trunks," she said, "If you want my advice…"

"Advice is a dangerous gift," interrupted Trunks quietly, "Whatever way you wield it, it can lead to anything, whether it be for better or for worse."

Bulma stared at him, seeing his troubled eyes.

"Something wrong?" she asked, a little timidly.

He's like both of his parents…

"Pai Pai," said Trunks, "Or Paiji…Pai Pai is my nickname for her. We're best friends, Kaa-san…"

As he said this, Bulma watched him pulled from inside his jacket a piece of faded paper that seemed to be wrapped around something. Trunks silently handed her the paper, and waited just as noiselessly. Bulma's fingers unfolded the paper, delicately, as if the material would crumble in her hands. The yellow paper revealed a sparkling jewel that made Bulma gasp. She held it up to the light.

"Pretty…" she whispered, turning it at an angle, "Where on Earth did you get this?"

Pink colored the largest crystal of the jewel, which was the center of other blue crystals of various lengths and sizes jutting out of different angles around the rim of the flat pink crystal.

"I found it after a funeral," said Trunks quietly, looking up at the ceiling, "Piccolo's funeral---He was one of the first to die---It was on the hill where we buried him. I…I gave it to Pai Pai as a gift. Then…"

He choked, but he continued.

"…Her parents, Yamako and Yamcha, were brutally murdered by the jinounzingen. Then there was a battle with the jinounzingen…And…"

Trunks took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"…It was my fault, Kaa-san…Juuhachi-gou and I were fighting each other, and Pai Pai was fighting one other. Juuhachi-gou fired a massive attack at me…I flew out of the way…It hit Pai Pai, instead…And the other enemy attacked Pai Pai with an attack…"

Bulma patted his shoulder, but Trunks shunned away, not allowing himself to shed tears, even in front of Bulma.

"…I never felt so stupid in my life! Everyone was telling me to forget it, that we could always wish her back. But I wanted Pai Pai to live. You understand, Kaa-san…I just couldn't face it. Then Kaa-san---Mirai Bulma---came to me one day about the time machine and I took that chance. I couldn't see Pai Pai dying---no matter if I could wish her back---I couldn't tell her how it was me who killed her…"

He sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, as if the room had suddenly gone cold. Bulma looked at her son, her eyes watering a little.

"My poor baby," she said, hugging her son (which Trunks accepted).

A minute or two passed before Bulma let go. She smiled a little and handed Trunks back the letter.

"Trunks," she said, "Paiji loves you…She shows it, but from what I can tell, she puts Earth's safety before anything else. I think, before anything else happens, you should tell her how you feel. I know it might screw up some things, but at least she'll know… The only thing you're doing now is hurting her, too, and probably thinks that you don't love her."

"But I do…" he protested, but Bulma shushed him.

"Tell her."

Trunks smiled a little.

"Thanks, Kaa-san, I'll…" he started, but he suddenly heard a crash, then a tinkling of glass.

White fingers clenched his throat, and Trunks fought for breath as he tried to attack the person behind him. His eyes widened as he saw a woman with cold eyes hold a sword to his mother's throat.

"Kaa-san!" he shouted, but silenced as he felt the cold blade of another sword against his own throat.

"Hey!" Trunks heard Kuririn shout, but another voice, cold, female, and commanding, "I'll slit her throat."

Kuririn skidded to a stop, his eyes wide with fear.

"D-don't…" he stuttered, but Hidari smirked.

"It's all right, cue ball," she chuckled, "We don't want to kill them just…"

"Oba-chan! Oba-chan (Auntie! Auntie!)!" called out a small voice, followed by the screams of a baby.

A young boy with messy brown hair and cat-shaped pink eyes appeared at the door, holding his squealing baby sister in his little arms.

"Oba-chan, Marissa is…" the little boy suddenly trailed off.

His eyes widened as he saw the glint of the blade next to Bulma's throat. Bulma gave him a shaky smile.

"H-hey, Naomitsu…" she said in a trembling voice, "T-they…"

A glint passed over Hidari's eye as she focused her gaze on Naomitsu.

"Is that Sotari's son," she asked Bulma.

Bulma nodded ever so slightly.

"A-and her d-daughter," she added, "Please don't kill us!"

"How many children are in this house?" Hidari demanded Bulma.

"F-four," stuttered Bulma, "D-don't…"

"…You take another step," said a new voice.

Everyone's eyes shifted to the behind their backs, peering into the light of the third entrance to the emergency room. A figure stood in the light, the face shadowed and unseen, but Bulma and Kuririn knew.

"Yamako!" said Bulma, for once joyful to see the mutant female Saiyajin, "Help us!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Yamako demanded, jerking her chin at Hidari and Shippo, "Are who the fu---"

"Yamako!" Bulma hissed, "there's children here!"

"…"

A giggle escaped Shippo. Yamako threw her a scowl.

"Anyway, who are you?"

"We're Sotari's friends," said Hidari, positioning the sword at Bulma's throat ever more slightly, "I'm Hidari and this is Shippo. We'll just take the children here and go."

Shippo made a step towards Hidari, but a ball of ki skidded by her foot, cracking the floor tile. Yamako grinned, a familiar Saiyajin smirk curling her lips.

"Shinei."

A flaming ball of yellow fire shot from her splayed hands, heading straight at Shippo. The green-eyed girl, however, threw Trunks at the attack. Bulma's shriek could be heard throughout the building as the ball exploded and swallowed Trunks, scorching his body. Yamako's eyes widened, but no words escaped her mouth as a badly burned Trunks fell to the floor, the remnants of the fire dissipating in the air.

"Trunks!" screamed Bulma, and made a move towards her son, but Hidari pushed her backwards.

The woman practically flew towards Trunks, and stood over him, her sword pointed at his throat, and kimono partly covering him. Kuririn suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his fist pulled back. Hidari partially turned her head to him, but a gunshot rang through the air, and Kuririn fell to the floor. Bulma sat up on the floor and nearly screamed again as a scarlet stream filled the cracks in the tiles. Yamako scowled and fired another attack at Hidari, but, using her sword, she sliced it in half. During the distraction, Shippo fired at Yamako, and the Saiyajin crumpled in a heap on the floor. The fresh smell of blood hung in the air like a curtain, and the child witnesses stood silently still.

"Shippo!" Hidari barked at her partner, "Take those two and wait outside!"

The girl nodded and smirked at Bulma on the way out. Naomitsu made no struggle; his sister was starting to cry again. He quietly went outside with Shippo. In the emergency room, Hidari smirked at the bodies lying the floor.

"More funerals, eh?" she chuckled at Bulma as she walked out the door.

"You dirty bitch!" Bulma made a grab for Hidari, but Hidari kicked her chin.

"Whore," replied Hidari evenly as Bulma held her bruised chin, "You should appreciate that you're still alive to bury these people. If you're worried about the children…"

Bulma threw her a nasty look.

"…I wouldn't worry, Bulma-san," continued Hidari, "But I must tell you that you're also alive for another reason: To tell the rest of the Z Senshi to find Sotari and Migino…"

Her eyes glinted.

"I've set a price of their heads. They betrayed us, so they must die for their disloyalty. I'll exchange the children's lives for theirs."

She reached the door, though her eyes were still on Bulma's.

"Don't fail me, Bulma-san."

There was a rustle from her dress, a slam of the door, and Hidari was gone. Bulma immediately got up and practically flew over to Trunks.

"Trunks!" she cried, her fingers flying to his neck for a pulse.

The half-Saiyajin stirred, his face screwing up in great pain.

"I'm…All right, Kaa-san…" he whispered.

"Don't talk," said Bulma, "I'm going to check the others."

A small croaking noise came from Kuririn.

"Are you okay, Kuririn?" Bulma asked, turning around.

"Fine, fine," muttered Kuririn, sitting up and clutching his arm, "Not bad for someone who just got shot in the arm."

Bulma sighed with relief.

"Thank Kami it wasn't your heart," she said, then turning to Yamako, "Yamako? Are you…"

Yamako sat up instantly at the sound of her name, scowling.

"I'm fine! Is (Chibi) Paiji all right? Those damn…"

"Your daughter's safely upstairs sleeping in the baby room with (Chibi) Trunks," Bulma hastily reassured her, "Are you okay?"

The mutant Saiyajin scowled, though it was a look of pain. She sat back on one hand and pointed at a bullet wound buried into her left shoulder.

"Does it look like I'm bloody hell all right!?" she yelled at Bulma, who was too busy turning her attention to the two broken rejuvenation tanks.

"At least they left Goku alone," she murmured, "Guess I'll have to…"

There was the sound of hurried footsteps in the hall, and Mr. and Mrs. Briefs burst into the room.

"Dear God, what happened here!?" Mr. Briefs half-shouted, "We heard gunshots!"

"Are all of you all right?" Mrs. Briefs said, rushing to Bulma, "Bulma?"

"Otou-san," said Bulma, addressing her father, "We have to fix the rejuvenation tanks and treat Yamako and Kuririn for bullet wounds on the arm and shoulder. Mirai Trunks has been burned all over his body. We have to move him to the tank downstairs in the bomb shelter now!"

"Right!" said Mr. Briefs after a short pause, then pulling out a black control box from his lab coat pocket, "I'll get the robots to fix the tanks. Darling (Mrs. Briefs), can you go ahead to the bomb shelter and prepare the tank there? Bulma and I will be there shortly."

Mrs. Briefs nodded and sped away. Mr. Briefs checked on Yamako and Kuririn, then turned to Bulma.

"What happened?"

Bulma told him. When she finished, the six robots had arrived with tools and a board. Carefully, two of them gently moved Trunks onto the board and carried him off the bomb shelter. Mr. Briefs followed, motioning the others to come. Yamako walked out the door, and Kuririn was about to go after them when he saw Bulma move for the other door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, and Bulma turned around.

"I have to go find the others," she said quickly, "I have to tell them about Hidari and Shippo kidnapping the children!"

There was the slightest of pauses before Kuririn gave her a thumbs-up.

"Okay, Bulma," he said, smiling a little, "But hurry!"

~

The cold air whipped his cape and stung his eyes, and the red scenery sped past him like a dream in the night. Piccolo didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. Anything to escape Callistus. During those last few minutes with her, a doubting thought was eating at his mind…

Sotari wouldn't be like that…

"Damn it," he muttered as he forced himself to accelerate even faster, "Why is she still with me? I can't think of her now…I'm dead. And she killed me…I should hate her!"

Extremely irritated and frustrated, Piccolo came to a sudden halt, and his cape seemed to wrap around him from the momentum and the wind. There was a twitch from Piccolo's hand, and he split into two. The two Piccolos sparred awhile, the clone fighting decently enough, but the original was FURIOUS. It was only a little while before he relented, and his clone was reabsorbed. Breaths came in ragged gasps and wheezes, and Piccolo cast off his heavy cape and turban to ease the great weight on his shoulders. The items dropped like stones down below and eventually disappeared from eyesight altogether. Piccolo shivered. The air seemed to grow frigid, and just as sharp, as ice, though the humid crimson still encircled him.

"Mist," Piccolo murmured to himself, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead.

He flew slowly down to the ground and hovered above the dirt for a moment, sensing for any signs of Callistus---or anyone else for that matter. There didn't seem to be anyone, so Piccolo checked the new setting that now served as his retreat. Piccolo nearly gasped in shock. Compared to the rest of Dysodea, it was thriving: a thick, prickly circle of holly trees, their dark leaves shining brightly and their equally dark ruby berries glowing like bits of light. A deep, seemingly bottomless, pool of blackish-blue water that gave a slight scent of pure freshness was on Piccolo's left, and the grass beneath his feet was like that of Earth's, except maybe a little more oily, and a deeper shade of green, but the same, healthy, refresh was there. The Namekian suddenly jerked his head up, and saw that, if his eyes were deceiving him, a patch of sky above was the rich colors of darkest blue and black, the white speckles of stars dotting and lighting up the night almost like a dim daytime.

"What the hell…" Piccolo started to say, but he suddenly felt a presence.

Piccolo instantly whirled around and struck his usual fighting stance, but his eyebrow ridges shot up in confusion and surprise at the sight of the cloaked figure before him.

"Radelas!?"

The figure appeared to shake its head, seeming to smile. A pair of strong human hands appeared from the sleeves of the brown robe and pulled down the hood, revealing a fairly pale-skinned face with deep-set eyes of medium brown. He almost seemed Elvish, but his ears were of a normal human type and he was barefoot, though Piccolo easily deduced there was reason to believe he was part Elf. After all, there was wisdom in his eyes and healing in his hands, as the figure told Piccolo later. Right now, however, all questions were held as a small smile curled the figure's lips, divulging slight amusement.

"No, no," he said cheerfully, wrinkles appearing around his eyes, "That's my younger twin, Piccolo, who resides in the regions of Upper Paradise, among the honored fighters of other worlds and the Supreme Kai. You are much mistaken…I am Tybylas, one of the many guardians of the eight regions of fire and the eight regions of ice in the Hells of the Upper World, and healer."

"How do you know my name?" Piccolo demanded, though there was a great wonder for the part-Elf in his heart.

Tybylas smiled again, the wrinkles around his eyes making him appear older than he was.

"I know a great many souls, Piccolo," he said, "Rare it is when I don't know any of the dead in Hell."

He spread his arms around him, motioning to their surroundings.

"This is my home---for now. It is sad---though I can grow life from the very steps I take, it is always the deathly atmosphere of Hell that kills my creations. Even now, the mist of blood is slowly eating away at my starry sky, and the humidity destroys my barrier of holly trees…but it is pleasant while it lasts…"

The part-Elf made a step away from Piccolo, and new grass sprang from beneath his foot.

"Care to join me for a refreshment?" he asked, "Though dead souls need no nourishment, it is, I think, comforting for them to eat and drink all the same…After all this blood here, it will be for you, no?"

Piccolo gave a grunt. Tybylas smiled at him and walked towards a cottage hidden in the trees that the Former Demon King had not seen before. The latter hesitated a moment, then followed. As the cottage appeared to his view from the shadows, he noted that it was wooden, mostly painted white, with a rectangular entrance without a door. There were two windows without shutters in the front on each side of the door, so one could easily look inside the small house. The first window conveyed a small kitchen, where Tybylas could be seen already seen fixing something. Piccolo's eyes traveled to the second window, which was dark, but the clear outlines of a worktable and a stack of books could be seen. A little grudgingly, Piccolo went into the kitchen to have a drink of water.

"How did you end up in Hell and Radelas in Paradise?" Piccolo asked Tybylas.

"Radelas had first choice," replied Tybylas calmly, "I lost a contest with him."

The Namekian raised an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation, but it didn't come. He sensed that Tybylas was lying a little, though he did nothing to accuse the part-Elf. Instead, Piccolo asked another question.

"Are you dead?"

Tybylas threw back his head and laughed.

"No, no, Piccolo, I'm quite alive, I assure you."

"I thought flesh and blood couldn't pass into Hell…"

"There are many portals from other worlds into this one, and I simply took one from Earth."

"Chikyuu (Earth)?"

"Yes…At the bottom of a pool, in fact. I blocked the entrance, though, when I first arrived. There was potential danger that some dangerous soul might escape…"

His eyes glinted, a certain memory coming to the surface.

"…Especially an Onibeing. It's hard enough trying to survive a fight with one in the first place. Imagine the terror one of them could cause…There is one in particular that is always causing me trouble here in Dysodea. It surprises me why King Enma…"

"Was her name Callistus?" Piccolo interrupted.

Tybylas raised an eyebrow.

"You've met?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to consort with her, then, much less fight her. She used to be one of the most feared terrors of a dozen galaxies, though she never managed to reach the one Chikyuu resides in."

"She's tried to tempt me…And I refused."

The brown-eyed healer shook his head.

"She will be thirsting for you."

~

Hidari turned her head and smirked at Naomitsu, who looked away from his captor's face. He had just been told of his mother's origins, and though his small face did not betray any emotion, the boy's grieved heart had sunk deep. A grinning Shippo slapped the lad heartily on the back.

"You'd have to learn sooner or later!" she told him, "Might as well be from us!"

"After all," added Hidari, smiling a little, "We are part of her."

"Makka na uso (A pack of lies)," answered Naomitsu quietly in a Piccolo-like manner, "You aren't anything like my mother…"

A sharp pain came to his cheek, and Naomitsu faltered, but did not fall, as Hidari's slap intended.

"Insolent boy!" she half-shouted, and her partner glared into Naomitsu's eyes, "How dare you accuse…"

Cries were heard in the corner of the dimly lit room. Hidari threw a scowl at baby Marissa struggling to stand up, using the wall as support, her pink eyes illuminating young fury.

"Boy!" she barked at a glaring Naomitsu, "Quiet your sister!"

The boy stood silently, his eyes fixed on Hidari. Angered, Hidari drew her hand back for another slap.

"I said…" she started, but the sound of screaming intercepted.

Hidari jerked her head sideways, tilting her ear slightly towards the tightly shut window. Shippo made a short jump and quickly undid the shutter locks. A strip of light flooded into the room as she opened a shutter and stole a peek outside.

"Hidari," she said, and the older woman came to the window.

Naomitsu softly and silently went to the corner and swept up his sister, his back to the two women. An evil feeling had come into the room, and the small boy knew they would fly. He watched as the two women exchanged whispers as more screaming erupted and tore the room's musty air. The feeling grew stronger, and Naomitsu's keen ears picked up the sound of a laughing raspy cold voice as other falling voices were cut away.

"Onii-san (brother)," said Marissa's voice close to her brother's ear, "What noise?"

Her older brother thought for a fleeting moment whether to tell the baby of the evil he sensed. Even Marissa, as much fighting blood as she had, couldn't understand…She didn't need to. Not now, at such an innocent age…Marissa was only beginning to talk, and could hardly stand up on her own. To know such knowledge would mean she'd have to defend herself, and more than likely be killed before she even has a chance to live. The boy himself, however, did not think such complicated thoughts, despite that being Namekian enabled him to do so. He was too young himself, too, to be exposed like this to blood and danger…Or maybe that was only the human side of him saying that. Naomitsu tightened his hold on his little sister, a remote, childish, human fear growing inside of him.

Will we be killed?

"Onii-san," repeated Marissa's small voice, "What noise?"

"It'll be okay, Imooto (little sister)," replied Naomitsu quietly, "It'll be okay…"

There was a violent shove from behind Naomitsu, nearly knocking his head into the wall. He quickly turned around to see a face of mixed fear and anger on Hidari and Shippo's faces.

"Come on!" yelled Shippo, snatching the boy by the shirt and half-dragging him across the room towards the door, "Let's go!"

A series of half-darkened and half-lightened hallways and rooms flashed before Naomitsu's eyes as he struggled to keep up with the ever-quickening pace of Hidari and Shippo. It seemed like only a moment later when they were passing through the doorway into the bright sunlight. Naomitsu blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, but he felt another shove from behind from Shippo.

"Move it!" she ordered, but she jerked her up towards the street.

Wordlessly, Hidari and Shippo drew their swords, poised. The street of Ginger Town seemed empty and strangely dusty. A wind whistled by the small group, carrying an old newspaper and scraps of paper down the street in its arms. Hidari tensed, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Shippo gripped her sword with one hand and the other rested on the gun in the holster. Naomitsu needed no telling to stay quiet, and Marissa made no noise either. It was a tense moment for them all. There was a sudden, faint noise, a flash of color, and Hidari leapt forward with a cry and swung. Her sword sliced through clean air, making an even softer sound than rustling leaves. The woman leapt back towards Shippo, breathing hard.

"Shit," she muttered.

Shippo stifled a giggle at Hidari's foolishness. What Hidari had attacked just now was a red shirt caught in the wind. It now lay in shreds on the concrete, and the wind picked the fragments up again.

"What the hell is a shirt doing here?" Hidari murmured to Shippo, catching one of the red scraps in her hand, "It looks new."

"Did," corrected Shippo, relaxing a little bit and leaning over her partner's shoulder, "So what's your point?"

"That screaming we heard," continued Hidari, "He was absorbing people…"

The younger cohort fell silent.

"He'll be after us," said Hidari.

Naomitsu's sensitive ears twitched suddenly and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. A creeping evil was behind them, and Naomitsu could feel its---his---presence. He whirled around and tightened his grip on Marissa as his matching eyes met for the first time with Cell's own. Imperfect Cell smirked at the small boy as the shocked gasps of Hidari and Shippo reached their ears.

"Sotari's children…" he said, his voice holding amusement, "And Piccolo's blood…"

"You're Cell," stated Naomitsu plainly and full of resent, "They told me…"

"A smart boy," interrupted Cell, now focusing his attention on Hidari and Shippo, "He knew I was here…"

"Prepare to die, creature," snarled Hidari, stepping forward.

Shippo went beside her, and Naomitsu ran towards a tree next to the very building he and Marissa were held captive. He crouched behind the thick trunk and held Marissa close. Almost immediately, screams pierced the air once more, and Naomitsu closed his eyes to try and shut out the dreadful noise. His ears told him of a sucking noise, then laughter… It clung to the dry air for a moment, then there were footsteps towards the tree. The small boy had an incredibly silly notion that it would turn around and leave him and his sister alone. However, he heard breathing high above him, and he looked up straight into Cell's laughing eyes with an expression of child hatred. Cell laughed and licked his lips.

"Tasty girls…" he said to Naomitsu, "I can't wait for your mother…Now come with me."

The boy shook his head and held onto his sister. Imperfect Cell couldn't help but chuckle.

"I won't harm either or you…As long as your mother is willing."

"You'll never have my mother, Cell," replied Naomitsu, sounding the name with distaste, "She's too strong…"

"But I am her mate, boy, and I was always stronger…Stronger even than Goku."

At this, he grabbed the back of the boy's shirt and lifted him and Marissa in the air.

"Now, either die or come with me and live."

Naomitsu stole a look at his sister, whose eyes were tearful, but very determined for so young. He looked back at Cell.

"Okay."

~

Bulma's fist nearly crushed part of the plastic of the airplane's thin dashboard as she raced against the winds of the sky to find at least one of the two groups of Z Senshi. Her teeth clenched, knuckles white, and her eyes brightly lit with the fires of determination, the brilliant woman scientist released one of her hands to form and smash a fist against the dashboard (again).

"Damn!" she cursed, beads of perspiration appearing on the side of her face, "Can't this airplane go any faster!?"

She checked the controls. The dials and arrows indicated the maximum speed that one could have with the most minimum risk of injury (and whatever things that could go wrong in airplanes). Bulma was not pleased.

"To hell with safety!" she shouted and released the safety switch.

Two minutes later, Bulma regretted her reckless move, which resulted not only in the plane going faster, but also in losing the left wing by Bulma steering the plane a mite too close to a tree. As the plane spun in rapid and stomach-wrenching circles, Bulma prepared for emergency ejection. She shouldn't have worried, though. The dizzying vision of a mountain in front of her would most assuredly kill her and smash the plane to hurling, flaming pieces. Bulma gasped, but it was already too late and too futile to even try and steer the plane away. She attempted to go up anyway.

"Fu---!" she started to say, but shut her mouth as the plane continued to spin and her stomach threatening to lose its contents.

However, in her mind, Bulma's mind was busily still calm and ticking away thoughts by the half-seconds. Should she risk ejection? No, she might end up going upside-down and smash headfirst into the dirt. Or maybe eject to the right into another mountain, or left in another downwards spiral into the large river nearby. The only was up, but even that was hopeless, because there was no telling what might even happen up in the air. But Bulma's time was running out as the mountain seemed to grow bigger and more menacing than when it first appeared. Finally, the brilliant woman scientist decided upon ejection. There were no other options, and somehow or another, she'd have to try and keep her body upright and well away from mountains, trees, etc. to prevent injury. Her thumb felt the handy red button and pressed down hard.

"Nani!?"

Nothing had happened. Then, there was a sudden halt, and Bulma snapped forward and hit her forehead on the dashboard, and lurched back into her cushioned seat. Almost instantly there was pain from her forehead, and Bulma's fingers gently felt the wound. A small cut, but nothing serious. She stole a look out the window and saw a familiar face with a look of annoyance.

"Vegeta!" she cried happily, undoing her seat belt.

Bulma kicked open the door on the other side of the plane and waved at her husband, having never been so relieved to see him in her whole life. Vegeta smirked at her and suddenly let go of the plane. Utterly shocked, Bulma was silent for a split second as the plane started to plunge towards the ground. She finally let out a scream and leapt out, not even bothering to put on a parachute out of sheer panic.

"VEGETA!!!" she yelled before Vegeta so conveniently caught her.

"Onna," said Vegeta, smirking wider than ever as Bulma threw her arms around his neck, "It's…"

*Slap!*

Vegeta's head jerked slightly to his left, the right side of his face burning pink. Bulma was livid.

"Vegeta, you dumb…"

"Bulma!" called another voice.

"Gohan!?"

Distracted, Bulma turned her head. Only four feet away, Gohan was grinning and waving at her.

"Good thing we found you before you crashed," said Gohan, flying a little nearer, "We were just flying to Red Village."

"Never mind that!" said Bulma, "Hidari and Shippo---Sotari's friends---broke free!"

"Is Tou-san all right?" Gohan asked, his concerned black eyes gazing hopefully into Bulma's own blue ones.

"He's fine, but they've kidnapped the children!"

"Trunks!?" Vegeta half-yelled, but suddenly clamped his mouth shut.

His unexpected outburst puzzled Bulma and Gohan, but Bulma moved on to tell them of what happened to them at Capsule Corp.

"Marissa and Naomitsu!" Gohan exclaimed when Bulma finished, "We…Pen!"

The redhead with blue sunglasses showed up behind the trio, his usually cheerful face replaced with dark foreboding.

"What happened?" he asked, but continued without question, "I just got a message from the other group: They've found Sotari!"

Bulma's face was grim.

"Her children are gone, too."

"What does that mean?"

Pen's face grew even stormier.

"Sotari and Migino (Sotari's other friend, Pen) seemed to have a falling out or something with Hidari and Shippo (More friends, Pen), so they've taken Sotari's children and are holding them for ransom!" explained Bulma quickly.

"What do they want?" Pen asked.

"Sotari and Migino," answered Gohan.

Pen thought for a fleeting second, but Vegeta already spoke his thought.

"We'd have all of them in the same place if we capture Sotari and Migino, so we can destroy them!"

The others nodded.

"Are Paiji and Denno already fighting Sotari and Migino?" Bulma asked.

"No; only on watch. They found them near a time machine."

"What!? A time machine!?"

"That can't be!" said Gohan, "Trunks said that they've only got two…Is that the…"

"No, I don't think it's one of ours," replied Pen, "But we'll figure it out later. Let's just go and…"

"I think," said Bulma, nodding towards bursts of energy in the distance, "It's already started."

"Come on!" said Pen, flying ahead of them.

Gohan started after him, but he looked back at Bulma and Vegeta.

"Should I take her home for you, Vegeta?" Gohan asked and Vegeta scowled.

"Yes!"

Bulma gave one of her dirty looks at Vegeta.

"Fine! You don't even care about your own wife!"

Vegeta's face was twitching.

"Stupid Onna."

"Dumb…"

Gohan hovered and watched with uncertainty as the insults went back and forth.

"Bulma, if you want to go home," Gohan spoke aloud, "You'll have to…"

Bulma threw one last glare at Vegeta before she dug in her pocket to pull out a small, round capsule.

"I'll just fly home, Gohan," she said.

There was puff of smoke, and a hovering helicopter appeared. Without another look at Vegeta (or Gohan for that matter), Bulma leapt into the machine and took off as quickly as she could.

~

Piccolo slowly opened an eye, interrupting his meditation for the third time in the past ten minutes. He was outside with his back to the house in a hovering lotus position, some distance away from the right window of Tybylas' small house. Though Tybylas himself virtually made almost no noise, the sounds of shuffling and moving of books and furniture from the second room annoyed Piccolo. Despite past experiences of meditating during such nuisances, Piccolo felt especially irked. He was condemned in Hell, a deadly Onibeing was hunting him, and had just tasted what he considered one of the worst human foods ever to have been created. All he wanted was some peace!

"Is it too much to ask," he said slowly in a loud voice (trying to keep his temper in check), "That you be quiet for a few hours?"

Tybylas stood by the window of the room, holding a few, thick, and dusty books in his hands. His eyes could be seen in the dimness, though his grim look couldn't.

"Do you know of the evil things passing through?" he asked Piccolo.

The Namekian did not turn around and nor did he answer. Tybylas continued, as if Piccolo had answered.

"Your wife…"

"She is not my wife," Piccolo interrupted, his voice full of bitterness.

"…Your mate, then. She and her counterpart are in danger, as well as the Earth itself…"

"I already know of the jinounzingen, Elf," cut in the Namekian again.

"…This is a new danger, Piccolo. He has been residing in the secrets of the old enemy for many years. That time has now passed and too quickly, for it has already killed many…Feasting on their flesh and blood, relishing their life force for his own growth and power. He has only purpose and it is to kill…To kill not only this world, but the next, until the universe would only exist as a dark, empty waste of space. But his power still lacks, though he is not far from the very sources that fuel the very core of his power…The jinounzingen…"

He paused, wondering for a moment whether Piccolo was even listening.

"…And Sotari."

Piccolo responded with an annoyed grunt.

"Why are you wasting your breath, Elf," he said, "The world was doomed to end anyway."

Tybylas snorted angrily. Curious at the noise, Piccolo's eyes shifted back to Tybylas. The part-elf had swung over the ledge of the window, carrying a heavy book under his arm. He marched straight up to Piccolo and slammed the book on…the air? Piccolo's eyes widened in astonishment. The book itself was floating, but it still made the same noise as it would if being dropped on a desk. Tybylas paid no attention to the Namekian's surprise and flipped through the faded pages of the maroon-shaded book.

As he rapidly passed the notes and words of magic and history, Piccolo noticed vividly colored pictures of dragons, kurins, and other magical creatures that curled, crawled, and fought each other across each page over, under, below, and around words of ancient script. Most was a language Piccolo hadn't ever seen in writing nor heard in speech. All was written in bright, fine ink, the first letters decorated with careful strokes. It seemed as if he was held in a trance by the finery of age-old works. Finally, Tybylas stopped at a page and jabbed his finger at a line (which Piccolo couldn't help but notice) and read aloud.

"In damaged stars could truth be told

Of a warlord's son

Of Namek bold…"

He skipped a long passage and turned the page to read the next one.

"With blood-red hands

He was cast out

But left the shadow of doubt..."

The dark eyes of Tybylas flashed momentarily as he read on.

"Bound by darkness and blind to see

To the Lord who scorns all pity:

'When blood of weak meets blood of strong

Reap the whirlwind you have sown,

Beware the lighting summer mark

Of one what you have little known.

Take the roads devoid of straight

Open wide the Dark Forest Gate,

There, the Flower waits

One day to seal your fate'."

There was a long silence as Piccolo had studied the illustrations in the book accompanying the verses. Outlined with fine black lines was the elegant image of a dancing woman in ragged clothes, whose eyes was closed and delicate hands and small mouth were playing a wooden instrument. The musical thing seemed to be cracked, though, which made broken notes float across the page and some drifted into the sky. A dark figure with lighting eyes was watching her, lustful. They were in the midst of a lonely black forest, and the barefoot woman seemed to be totally unaware of the figure behind her, even though a hand took hold part of the end of her flowing golden hair. Implanted on her right hand was a pink pearl, her left a purple one, a green one on her exposed navel, and two ice blue ones on each of her ankles.

Ominous red and foreboding black mountains were in the distance, where Piccolo could make out an open gate of dark blue and shining silver lines in the middle of one particularly large mountain. Its contents revealed a single flower, like that of a cherry blossom, only its pollen was of a glowing gold. A tiny, but hungry-looking tiger was seen darkly perching by the gates. Piccolo's eyes moved the sky, which was a glittering, brilliant blue with equally sparkling stars. Among these stars were flying mysterious and spell binding creatures that a few Piccolo did know of.

There was the brilliant kurin, gold and red, dancing on his goat legs across the sky, with flaming scarlet books following its trail. A large black dog gently pawed a star and chewed a chesnut while a fearsome kappa charged angrily at bird with a dragon tail and wings. These were the most prominent of the creatures, while the rest seemed dim and small in the shadows of stars. There was, however, one that seemed larger than all the other animals, but much further away from them. It was an emerald dragon, fitfully blowing shooting stars down towards the forest, but its obsidian eyes resting on the woman, as if fearing for her life and the danger of the mysterious figure. A single pearl shone on its forehead like the most dazzling of stars (the kurin seemed to be drawn towards it) and one of the broken musical notes from the woman was clutched tightly in one of the dragon's claws.

"Well?" Tybylas finally spoke up, breaking the silence, "What do you think?"

Piccolo looked at him, a confused light replacing the previously annoyed one in his black eyes.

"What," he said, stealing another glance at the picture, "Does this mean?"

Tybylas took a deep breath and pointed at the woman.

"I think you would know, Piccolo…This is your wife."

For once, Piccolo did not show any resentment at the term. Tybylas highly suspected a great tangle of deceit on the Namekian's part. A great liar, as Piccolo tried to pride himself to be, but there was too much curtness and hardness in his manner for him to be a good liar. There were no illusions clouding Tybylas' judgements of the Namekian now. The Namekian was a fairly often liar, using the easiest lies for the survival of his so-called dignity. It was a child's weapon…yet it found a very likely character to use such simple methods.

Perhaps… Tybylas thought, watching Piccolo's face carefully, It is what brought Sotari and Piccolo together…To be at hand to prop up those weak places in their lies. Everyone has their weak places, and all of them require different people to help them…

"What is this?" the Elf heard Piccolo's voice asking him.

"It is in this picture drawn by my Elvish ancestors, prophesizing the start of the destruction of the universe," Tybylas replied, "The One has been born, and He will stop at nothing…"

"I know," interrupted Piccolo quietly, bowing his head, "I know…His name is Cell. I already know why he is after Sotari."

Despite the situation, Tybylas smiled a little and put his hand on Piccolo's shoulder.

"It seems," he said, "that Kami has indeed proven King Enma wrong about you."

The Namekian lifted his head, his eyes holding a flicker of hope. The wall of deception had crumbled, and Piccolo's 'pride' was at its most vulnerable. Tybylas had seized the chance well.

"How can I help them? I am dead…Trapped in Dysodea. It might take years for me to make up for what I have done."

"Do not despair, Piccolo…I have a plan. There is a chance…"

The hopeful flicker turned serious.

"…But it will require the greatest and innermost courage that you can only muster in times of need. This task holds within itself a way out of death, but it will eat you away, over and over, and delight in your constant pain if you fail."

Piccolo's face fell a little, but he braced himself.

"What do I have to do?"

A breeze stirred the pages of the book, turning it to the next page and the next. The first page was the dark gate, enlarged and more real and evil than anything Piccolo had ever seen in the pages of a book. Seemingly enormous doors with silver lines allocated the sight of a hall of endless ice. Piccolo peered at the page, and discovered little shapes within the crystals that jutted from the ceilings and rose out of the floor. The end of the hall was a single ice column with another dark shape in it, holding in its grasp the cherry blossom with golden pollen. There was also another shape blocking part of the column and the trapped figure, but the drawing of the tiger crouching at the foot of at the main entrance prevented him from seeing more.

Another page revealed a translated rhyme in the slanted language of Namekian, which Piccolo read, but Tybylas did not speak.

Of Fireshine and Fireshade the Flower glows

Meant for love and peace it grows

Trapped in hands of blood and evil

Awaiting a heart of pure and steel

To steady whirlwind, steal, and defy

In the Hall of Ice where shadows lie

"Your food of life lies in the Hall of Ice," said Tybylas, his finger tracing the illustration, "It is the sacred Flower that you seek. Those who eat the blossom will gain life…"

Piccolo nodded.

"I understand."

Tybylas looked at him.

"I can give you nothing to help you on this journey into the deepest Hell…I am limited to Dysodea, and there is no telling what will and can happen…Especially when you are within the Hall of Ice itself."

He flipped a few more pages and gazed at the worn penmanship.

"The only route available to the Hall of Ice is through the dark forest, which is empty of life, but is nevertheless very treacherous (You can't fly there, by the way). When you arrive to the Hall of Ice, you must not, any conditions whatsoever, melt the ice that traps the souls there. They might very well throw you into their prison and escape. Then there is nothing you'll be able to do. The only prison you should melt is the one at the very end of the Hall, which is guarded by the thousand-eyed monster Argus. However, there is grave danger if you manage to defeat Argus and melt the column. There within it lies a damned soul more evil than your father could've ever been…"

"Yet," said Piccolo, staring at the Flower, "He holds the Flower of Life."

"My books say no real reason why he holds the very thing he took away from others," replied Tybylas, "One of the most widely known stories is that of the demon's encounter of Semele, a princess of the Girisha race. The demon had many consorts before Semele, and among them was one jealous enough to convince Semele to ask her lover to show himself in his fullest and most powerful form. The demon was more than happy to, but his evil energy burned poor Semele to a cinder, but from her ashes sprung the Flower of Life. However, as soon as his hands touched the blossom, he was struck dead by the jealous lover and was condemned."

Piccolo shook his head.

"Enough of stories," he said, standing up from his lotus position, "I have to go, Tybylas."

"Remember, it is south (or down wards, as the case of Hell is) that you must travel," said Tybylas, pointing southwards, "and beware of Argus!"

He paused a moment and lowered his hand.

"Only Fate knows if you'll succeed."

"Which I will," replied Piccolo, turning his back on Tybylas, "…And…Thanks."

Tybylas smiled a little.

"Kami softens you, Piccolo…"

"One question," said Piccolo quickly, "What has happened to Kami?"

"His spirit follows you, and awaits fusion when you return to Earth."

The Namekian grunted, showing the air of the old Piccolo surfacing a moment.

"Just like the old man…"

He hovered in the air for a moment before speeding off.

~

Cell closed the door of the cottage behind, grinning insanely as he heard his son kick his mate's son into a corner. He smiled even wider as he heard Cell Jr.'s insults. More kicking. Imperfect Cell rose in the air and flew over the deserted city, feeling the hidden presence of Juuhachi-gou and Juuanna-gou, the staples to perfection. The creature felt a desire rise in him as he thought of Juuhachi-gou's beauty…Of course, Juuanna-gou was a handsome boy, but his older twin was much more appealing.

…So sweet…

He licked his lips, remembering his other target. Memories flew past him of Sotari, those fiery eyes blazing with hatred at him, floating and scowling in the tank across from his own. Those tubes and needles attached to her beautiful body…A quiver rippled throughout Cell.

That body…

There was the lustful longing to bite those hard nipples and runs his hands over her smooth, pale skin. To invade her luscious mouth and hear in pleasure her desperate screams…To nip at that slender neck of hers and to plunge himself deep into her ultimate treasures… Just thinking about it drove Cell near to madness as he forced himself to calm down and go faster in his search. But the throbbing did not cease, and it grew harder and faster as Cell's snake-like eyes skimmed over the empty streets and buildings, sensing out Juuhachi-gou and Juuanna-gou. He suddenly halted, turning his head to his left. There was movement in the distance, he thought, near the airport. His tuned his fine hearing, listening…

"Where do you want to go now, Onae-chan? This town was boring…"

"We should just find Goku and get it over with, Juuanna-gou."

"Onae-chan!"

With a self-satisfying smirk, Cell speedily made his way there, and silently hovered near the control tower to observe the twins below without them noticing him. They seemed to be arguing, and Cell smiled again.

Perfect.

He flew down and ran with soft footsteps from hiding place to hiding place, taking care to only run when they weren't looking in his direction. Juuhachi-gou suddenly jerked her head from her brother and tilted her head. Juuanna-gou also stopped.

"What is it?" he asked in a bored voice, tiring of them standing there.

His twin's eyes narrowed with deep suspicion at the airplane behind them.

"Something is here," she said.

Juuanna-gou chuckled.

"Probably nothing," he said, waving a hand at Juuhachi-gou (who wasn't paying attention to him), "We shouldn't be standing here, Onae-chan…This town's deserted."

"Yes…" replied Juuhachi-gou absently, stilling watching the plane, "We shouldn't be here…"

Her younger twin rose and hovered in the air, waiting.

"Well?" he asked her, "What are you waiting for?"

Juuhachi-gou didn't move. Suddenly, there was a green blur, and the sound of ripping. Juuanna-gou backed in surprise as he watched his sister stumble backwards, her pale hand covering slashed clothes and clean lacerations. His eyes turned to their attacker and they widened. The creature before them could almost be laughable, except that he just clawed Juuhachi-gou below her solar plexus. Before Juuanna-gou could react, he felt the creature grab hold of his thin shoulders and lick the side of his face. Disgusted (and seriously disturbed), Juuanna-gou made a kick at him, but the creature only laughed. In the backround, Juuhachi-gou was on the ground, breathing hard, and trying to stop the sudden rush of blood spurting from the cuts. It was all she could do and watch her brother with wide and fearful ice-blue eyes.

"Juuanna-gou," said the creature, "…I…"

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!!!" Juuanna-gou screamed at him (still sickened).

The creature laughed again.

"I," he said, "Am Cell."

"Fuck you!"

The defiant android tried a head butt, but an extreme pain pierced into his back like a poisoned arrow. He screamed in agony as he felt some of his blood was sucked into Cell's tail. Enraged, Juuhachi-gou staggered up on one knee and fired a ki ball at Cell's head. Cell not only noticed this, but he also swung his tail at Juuhachi-gou, knocking her to the ground and the ki ball away from him. She landed hard on the concrete, and pain rippled through her body and her brain as she felt her head collide into the corner of something sharp.

A warm sensation came from her head and stained the gray ground. Juuhachi-gou fought to keep consciousness, forcing her eyes open to witness the full horror of Cell swallow her brother whole by that horrible tail. His struggling form could still be seen punching and kicking as it slid through inside the narrow passage. Cell's laughter intermingled with Juuanna-gou's muffled yells and screams as Juuhachi-gou let her head fall back to the concrete, trying to resist the welcome blackness to cover her eyes. In her half-conscious dimness, her senses caught hot-white energy radiated from Cell…Juuanna-gou's energy.

"Otooto (little brother)…"

She heard his heavy footsteps trod the ground towards her limp and bleeding form. Her senses felt him kneeling beside her and a hand lying between her breasts. The touch felt alien to her, sending an evil chill through her. His hand ran up partially over her left breast, her shoulder and finally rested on the back of her neck. He knelt down closer, using his other hand to lift her partly off the ground and the fingers of his right hand to support her head. Juuhachi-gou saw a face swim into view distorted and notably ugly. The eyes were ice blue like hers and her brothers, his face like a square, lips were large and thick, and a half-formed nose.

"Juuhachi-gou…" he whispered to her, his voice lustful and deep (unlike the raspy one of before), "You…Are so beautiful."

Juuhachi-gou, with half-closed eyes, found her own lips forming her brother's last words.

"Fuck you…"

Cell could only chuckle at this weak display of stubbornness, and he leaned in to deliver a very wet and tongue-tangling kiss. Juuhachi-gou was instantly repulsed at the touch of his tongue against hers and struggled, but felt a sharp pinprick penetrate deep in her side as Cell pulled away from her.

"Do not fight against me," he commanded, withdrawing his tail, the siphon tip tinged of blood.

He pulled her closer to him against his body, setting her chin resting on his shoulder. Dizzy and helpless, Juuhachi-gou limply leaned against him as his hands roughly massaged her smooth back. Fortunately for her, though, Cell did not go any further than this. Instead, he slide her onto his shoulder, stood up, and flew off back to the cottage. Juuhachi-gou did not question his reason. It was obvious: he had sensed the Z Senshi. Through her dim vision, Juuhachi-gou herself could plainly see the various ki blasts bursting in the air.

Why doesn't he absorb me? She thought vaguely as Cell landed on the wooden porch with a heavy thump.

She heard him kick open the door and the click of heels as Cell addressed someone in the one-room house.

"Jr.," said Cell curtly, "I'll take the children. Guard her…I'll be back."

Juuhachi-gou felt herself being thrown quite unceremoniously into someone else's arms, which felt rather skinny. Her head jerked back to catch the imperfect Cell Jr.'s eyes, mirrors of his father's previous form. The android wanted more than anything to smash his face, but the dull, pounding feeling in the back of her head made her groan. So she swung her head sideways, capturing the sight of two pairs of frightened pink eyes. She felt her heels drag on the floor, heard her blood dripping on the floor, and then felt her body being dumped rudely on a makeshift bed. There was the sound of children's gasps, followed by another door slam. Juuhachi-gou could only stare up at the ceiling and groan as another warm gush came from her head and stained the gray-colored pillowcase.

Damn him…

The faint smell of blood hung in the air about her like a curtain, and Juuhachi-gou's blood stained hand felt the scratches over her solar plexus. Despite the pain, she smiled lightly. Already ten minutes within her capture and her skin was already repairing itself. It was too bad she couldn't cleanse the wound; it'd help the regeneration faster. She turned her head to her right, smiling a little wider. Cell Jr. had his back to her, staring out the window.

Soon…

~

His feet flew lightly from rock to rock, hardly touching them at all. The red-blood river shone like a mirror, reflecting the mimicking images of Piccolo as he leapt from the last stepping stone onto the rocky shore. He paused at the other end, loosening his cape. Though cold red mist rose from the river and shrouded its shores, he felt hot. It was probably the dark magic keeping the heat of Dysodea here even in this cold forest, where nothing lived and nothing died. Nevertheless, Piccolo could feel icy blackness surrounding him, biting his skin, clinging to his clothes, filling his eyes, ears, and mouth, and threatening every unprotected second.

The images of the dancing woman and the dragon danced in his head as he rapidly picked up his pace again. It wasn't until he departed from Tybylas did he realize what those pictures and rhymes meant. He could almost called himself stupid for not seeing that the dragon was himself in the first place, but he blamed his ignorance on the apple turnover.

"Nastiest thing I've ever tasted," Piccolo muttered as he clambered over a large boulder, "I should've seen that the kurin was Goku, the black dog was Kuririn, the kappa was Vegeta, and Bulma was the Basilisk."

He thought of the other creatures, but it still wasn't clear what was what, so he couldn't tell who was who. Still, it amused and occupied his mind of who might've been what as the long journey progressed. Yamcha would've been a fish: weak, meek, easily frightened, and just as easily caught. Yamako was a fleeting hare: sharp-eyed and swift. Gohan, Piccolo thought, was the red-crowned crane: simple, friendly, and the model of courage, strength, and justice.

There were also other things in that picture…Like the instrument Sotari/the woman played. Probably him again, he supposed (a piccolo!). Broken music notes meant broken love or something like that. And he/the dragon clung onto one of them, like he himself still held onto thoughts of her. The pearls dotting Sotari's body were the androids, perhaps emphasizing the fact that they all came from the same creator and therefore linked to Sotari. And the figure grabbing her hair was Cell, hiding himself away from her until it was time to absorb her, but he still held onto the fact that they were destined mates. The blue sky was the universe, its stars were the souls, and shooting stars were probably Dragon Balls or some other symbolic things that meant hope.

And the rhyme… Piccolo thought, throwing a rock in a lake to test for anything, A whirlwind?

More than likely it represented the trouble he caused.

"Beware the lighting summer mark

Of one what you have little known"…

That could mean anyone he didn't really know: Callistus, Cell, maybe Sotari…None of them had anything close to 'the lighting summer mark' though.

"Maybe it means all of them."

He paused a moment, catching his breath. It was now finally beginning to get cold, enough for him to see his breath materialize in small clouds in front of him. Piccolo took a quick inspection of the land around him. Still forest, but the trees seemed to be thinning. His spirits rose; he had begun to tire of seeing endless trees. However, the moment swiftly passed as Piccolo's muscles tensed, sensing the icy presence of black energy.

"Ice," he said aloud, knowing he wasn't far from his goal.

Piccolo promptly took up his run again, but faster; the urge for life was racing through his veins. The thick gray bark of the trees seemed to slant into a leaning silver blur, their dark sea-green tops merging like the restless sea of night. His eyes stole a glance of the ground below his feet. From the smooth, white pebbles and the flat wet stepping stones of the north came and replaced by dirty gray boulders and jagged slabs protruding from the soil like graves. Some even had ancient runes carved into them, but Piccolo did not stop to read or even study them; time seemed to be running thin, and the Former Demon King still had much to do ahead of him.

A blast of ice wind blew abruptly in his face, causing him to halt again. The chill whipped all around him, and Piccolo shielded his eyes, trying to see ahead. His eyes widened slightly; he had reached his goal. He had come to the very edge of the forest, the ground of grass and dirt giving way to the hard, blue-colored stone of mountains. The mountains themselves towered over him, the black, starless sky eating at their steep uneven tops. Fortunately for Piccolo, he did not even have to strain his eyes to see where the Dark Forest Gate was. He hurriedly went forward to see.

The gate was clearly cut into the rock of the very first mountain in front of him, the design outlined by fitfully twinkling silver lines that sparkled like weakly shining stars. There were trees carved artfully on each door, holding dozens of tiny stars in their branches. The mountains were also depicted in the stone, proud and regal, and yet so terrifying, just beyond the two starry trees. In the very heart of the picture, though, was a large depiction of a thousand-eyed monster with eight tentacles, wielding an axe, a sword, and a spear in three of six hands. Well above the monster's head and far below the feet, along the rounded arch and along the bottom of the doors, was a running, flowing script of ancient language interlacing with added decorations. It was plainly an Elvish/Elfish character; Piccolo knew enough from Kami's books to distinguish it, though he still couldn't read it. If he could, then it would've read:

Prison of the Damned and of the Weak

It is not this Hell you'd do to seek

Ice of Shadows and of Guilt

Sins of worlds that have been spilt

Be forever here in frozen souls

And dwell in sleep as the death bell tolls

Piccolo studied the monster a moment, contemplating weaknesses. Suddenly, a cold, familiar chill struck him, its well-known grasp slid onto his shoulder and over. An icy breath washed over him, and Piccolo tensed, the image of the crouching tiger coming to mind.

"Hello, Callistus."

~

Trunks' eyes snapped open, his mind immediately shrouded in thick confusion at the blurry bluish figures moving in front of him. As his vision cleared, he realized his situation, and started pounding the thick glass of the rejuvenation tank he was in. The message was as clear and concise as shouting: "I'm alive! Let me out!" An elderly figure, which he guessed was his grandfather, quickly moved over to some controls, and the DNA water started to drain. Before his mind caught on, Trunks saw his hand taking a life of its own; ripping off the oxygen mask from his face as the tank's door, in his opinion, painstakingly and slowly opened. At the first flash of a familiar face (which was Kuririn's), he reached out and snatched the owner's collar, asking: "Where's Okaa-san (Bulma)?"

"Out," replied Kuririn shortly, lest Trunks may start shaking him, "Let go, man!"

The other obeyed and leapt out of the tank, wildly looking for his sword. He cared not that he was stark naked, or that Mrs. Briefs and Yamako were also in the room. All he wanted was…Mr. Briefs cleared his throat and handed Trunks some Saiyajin armor and clothes. Yamako shook her head in amusement and Mrs. Briefs stifled a giggle and a gasp while it first dawned on Trunks of his state. Blushing crimson, he promptly retreated to the other side of the rejuvenation machine to put on his new clothes. Kuririn joined him and informed him of the kidnapping and Bulma's earlier departure.

"What time?" Trunks asked, pulling the armor over his head.

"Almost ten minutes…You Saiyajins heal fast, don't you?"

Trunks smiled lightly.

"Yeah. Where's my sword?"

He didn't wait for answer and rushed past his short friend towards a table, his hand outstretched. As he wiped his sleeve on its blade for dust, his eyes caught the sparkle of the jewel lying atop his folded pile of burnt clothes. Trunks snatched it and tucked it in his glove. Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense Yamako's mocking smile.

"Who's it from?" she teased, "Some girlfriend of yours?"

Trunks could feel himself blushing again.

"Yeah," he responded curtly, grabbing his sword and heading out towards the exit.

The half-Saiyajin nearly smacked right into Bulma.

"Trunks!" she cried, her face relieved, yet her tone was urgent, "We've found Sotari!"

"What!?" Kuririn's voice called out in the back round.

Her son took a pause, hardening his face as he heard Yamako's hurrying footsteps pass him, only halting for Bulma's answer as he gazed into her eyes.

"Where?"

Bulma started up the stairs, and Trunks followed.

"I have to show you," she said, heading outside.

She motioned to the plane parked in the yard, but Trunks shook his head.

"It'd be faster if I carry you."

His mother reflected briefly, but Trunks had already swept her off her feet and was shooting upwards, Yamako with them. Bulma shot a glance at Yamako's bandaged shoulder.

"Stay home!" she commanded, as if Yamako was some hopelessly devoted puppy.

The Saiyajin female scowled.

"I'm no dog," she snapped, "And I'm fine! I can fight as well…"

A strong hand clamped heavily on her shoulder, and Yamako's head jerked to her side. Her big, deep sea-colored eyes met with twinkling black ones, and Goku smiled.

"Go home, Mako-chan," he told her, using his pet names for her, "Can't let little sister get hurt again, can I? Or your girl, (Chibi) Paiji, eh?"

Despite her urge to correct him for the term 'little sister', Yamako bit her lower lip and smiled a little. Sure, she said, anything for Goku. She sweetly flew back, and her yellow fighting dress could still clearly be seen even in the far distance, when Bulma and Trunks had thoroughly filled Goku in on the recent events. He angrily gripped his fists at the news of the kidnapping.

"They took the children! How could they, they're…"

Bulma cocked an eyebrow, slightly surprised, though it shouldn't have been any surprise that he'd be so tender hearted about children. Still, they were Sotari's children…The blue-haired woman bit her lip, wondering. Yes, Marissa and Naomitsu were young enough to be watched over with such protection, but even at such tender ages, the mixed blood of Saiyajin and Namekian was clearly showing, their innocence and their childish habits shedding away. Even Naomitsu, being only two years old, had the body of a six-year-old and an even more advanced mindset, his fighting level rising rapidly unlike anything. The only scrap of real human blood in him, in Bulma's opinion, were his features, not including the eyes…Those were android. Because of these things, Bulma doubted for once Goku's feelings about the children.

"Goku," she said a little slowly, "Don't you think you're being…"

Goku shot a questioning glance at her.

"What?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

"…Too…Concerned…for them," Bulma finished indecisively, trying to find the words.

The Saiyajin nearly exploded, but quietly, though his tone held poison.

"What do you mean?"

A question like that from Goku needed careful considering. After a few seconds, Bulma was about to answer him when Trunks interrupted her.

"Is it that way, Okaa-san?" he asked her.

Whether this question was to distract the conversation or for real, neither Bulma nor Goku did know, but Bulma pointed to her left.

"No, more over this way, Trunks."

Trunks veered left, putting on more speed. Goku, however, was not put off so easily. He effortlessly caught up with them and peered into Bulma's eyes.

"Tell me," he asked, a little more gently, "What's wrong about Sotari's children?"

Again, Bulma hesitated. She stole a glance over at the distance, and, seeing they were almost there, she turned back to Goku, armed with a very short and concise explanation.

"Think about it, Goku. They're Namekian, Saiyajin, human, and android hybrids; don't you think they might become dangerous?"

"Dangerous? They're just children!"

"Children or no, their minds and bodies are growing faster than anything we've ever seen. Who knows what they might turn into…Their father used to be a demon, their mother an agent of Gero's. And they're in the hands of their mother's allies…They could be turned against us."

Her eyes flashed momentarily, being slightly defensive at Goku's small scowl at her for that last statement.

"Bulma-san, I would've thought you'd have more faith," reprimanded Goku, "I swear, whatever Piccolo and Sotari have done in the past, has nothing on their children. I know, Bulma, as brilliant as you are, compared to me. They will not turn evil."

Bulma was silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

"You may have right, Goku," she said, her eyes downcast, "But those children…It's too uncanny…"

Trunks turned to the two and nodded.

"We're here."

Blasts and yells could be heard from below, and the trio stopped to observe the happenings below. It seemed well enough, Sotari fighting Vegeta and Paiji at once, and Migino taking on Pen and Basu. Gohan and Denno took a break long enough to fly up and catch the rest on the latest update.

"They're holding back their powers," Gohan said to his father, "I don't know why, Tou-san, but…"

Goku held up a hand.

"Wait," he said, and everyone looked at him.

The air was silent, save for the fight below, and Goku seemed to be listening for something.

"What is it?" Trunks asked quietly, trying not to disturb Goku much.

"Evil," Goku answered, and suddenly shot towards the ground like a bullet.

Gohan and Denno took after him while Trunks hurriedly flew Bulma to the ground near the fight, but far enough for her not to get hurt. Goku was in the trees, wildly looking around for something while the other two waited behind him, tense. They did not have to wait long. Whatever Goku had been waiting for, it leapt out the shadows, towards the fight.

"It's here!" Goku yelled towards the others.

Denno threw a blue ball of energy at the thing, but it slapped it away like a mosquito. Undaunted, he threw another one, and Gohan joined him, firing multiple gold blasts. As the thing dodged the attacks, it took time to turn and smirk back at them, showing something tucked under its arms. The men's eyes widened quite considerably.

"The children!" Goku cried, rushing forward.

His cry was loud enough to bring the two fights to a halt, some people to gasp, and Sotari to be struck dumb as most people's first glimpse of Cell stood before them, holding onto Naomitsu under one arm and Marissa in the other. Both children were awake, but thoroughly scared. Marissa, poor girl, was shivering and hiccuping uncontrollably. Naomitsu was defiant, but trying hard himself not to cry in his showy display of faked bravery. At the first sight of his mother, he reached out to his sister, but his short arm waved futilely at her.

"Imooto!" he cried, "Okaa-san is here!"

Marissa didn't stop crying, but she took a peek. Sotari was stunned, but her eyes clearly showed pain. She found her own hand reaching for the little one waved at her. Cell smiled and chuckled at Sotari's sudden exhibition of tenderness towards her smallest child. He turned to his right so that Sotari could only see Naomitsu.

"Good afternoon, Sotari-san," he said, his polite greeting sliding off Sotari like water on a duck's back.

She clenched her teeth and gripped her fists tightly.

"Release my children," she said slowly, the fiery rage building in her chest and threatening to explode any second, "I'm warning you…"

Cell only laughed and jerked his head towards the rest of the group.

"We're being rude, Nijuuni-gou (No. 22)," he said, "You haven't introduced me."

"There's no need for them to know," Sotari replied, "Except that you're here for me."

"And your replicas," Cell added, licking his lips, "Sweet girls, Hidari and Shippo were…"

"You knew about the replicas?" Migino's voice interrupted.

"Of course…Nijuuni-gou is my mate, after all."

Cell's eyes shifted to Migino, looking up and down her slim figure.

"Wait, REPLICAS!?" that was Bulma's voice.

"It explains a lot…" said Goku's voice.

"Enough!" yelled Cell, impatience rising in his voice, "My name is Cell, and I've only come here for my mate. I already have the other jinounzingen in my hands, so if you please…"

He took a step towards Sotari, but a small fire lit up in her hand.

"No," she told him, her voice low and dangerous.

Her predestined mate chuckled.

"But Nijuuni-gou," he said, "Your children…Don't you care about them?"

Sotari's eyes softened as Cell turned to his left side, showing a sniffling Marissa, but the fire did not subside.

"Let them go," she repeated her earlier command.

Cell's eyes glinted.

"Tell you what, Sotari," he said sweetly, "I'll spare the children, but only if you come with me. If not, you know what I will do…"

The fire blew out. Sotari took a step forward, ignoring Goku's protests. The other Z Senshi stood by, unsure of what to make of it. Their plague, Sotari, was disappearing…But to another threat? Why are they standing around then? Shouldn't they kill him---her mate---right now? Better yet, both of them? Besides Goku, who still held faith in Sotari, everyone felt that way. Trunks drew his sword, poised to cut off Cell's head the second he had a chance.

Paiji looked at him and turned her back on the scene. She was perhaps the only one who did not even care. Cell was a new threat, but it probably wasn't anything she couldn't handle. After all, she could always take a trip into the Time Chamber at Kami's Lookout and train a bit. Most of all, though, she was just glad to rid of Sotari. The reason? Paiji's eyes shifted to Sotari, who was walking toward Cell as if in slow motion.

Her daughter nearly killed me…The damn woman deserves everything she gets; she's the one who started it all. Her birth was damned from the very start.

"Bye, bye, Okaa-san," she heard Marissa's tiny voice telling her mother.

The half-Saiyajin cringed.

She doesn't deserve those children!

"What about Naomitsu?" Paiji heard Sotari demanding Cell.

Cell laughed quite audibly, and Sotari started to become angry again.

"You told me…" she started, but Cell waved a finger at her.

"One child per mate," he said, and Sotari's fingers curled back into her fist.

However, before Sotari's fist could do anything, Migino had stepped forward.

"I'll go," she volunteered; her voice changed back into something like her old one.

Sotari gave a look of mixed surprise and relief. Migino ignored her and gazed into Cell's eyes. He laughed and released Naomitsu, who immediately made a grab at Sotari's leg, crying.

"Okaa-san!" he cried, "Don't go!"

She smiled sadly and ruffled his messy hair.

"I won't be long, baby," she said in a reassuring voice, "You just take care of your sister, okay?"

Paiji frowned in disapproval, her thoughts dark. Beside her, Trunks set his stance lower, making every muscle tense. On her other side, Vegeta scowled, but he did nothing. Some feet away from them was Goku, holding Marissa close. Next to him was Denno, standing in absolute shock while his brothers shook their heads. Gohan made his way to Sotari and gently pried Naomitsu away. The little boy sniffed and bit his lip, trying harder than ever not to sob. Cell grinned and grabbed the two women and hovered off the ground a moment more, as if waiting for something.

Trunks saw his chance. With a cry, he leapt forward and made a swing at Cell, but he obviously anticipated this. His tail whipped around and struck Trunks on the side of the face. Paiji heard his pain and she whirled around in concern. She suddenly felt a blow to her head and the feeling of being swept off the ground. Cries were sounded all around her, and ki blasts fired into the air, but Cell was already far away from reach.

"That bastard!" Trunks shouted, forgetting his sword and flying furiously after him.

He fired some attacks for good measure, but he found them returned to him, and was forced to dodge. Gohan flew up beside him and helped him. Goku appeared out of nowhere in front of Cell, but Cell's tail dug into his side, making him cry in agony. The latter's son's ki flared, and hot white energy pierced Cell's back, causing him to withdraw his tail. His victim, however, was not so easily put out. The Saiyajin fired a Kamehameha, but Cell disappeared. All the other Z Senshi were in the air now, trying to seek out Cell's ki. Of course, he being a jinounzingen, that was impossible. Gohan flew to his father's side.

"Are you all right, Tou-san?" he asked, but Goku waved him off.

"I'm fine, but find Cell!"

Gohan closed his eyes, trying to sense out Paiji's energy. It was far away, and the second he knew the location, he took off, Trunks beside him. The others followed in suit as fast as they could. It was some time before they came upon the edge of a deserted city, where a cabin lay below them. Their leader took a sharp plunge down and landed hard on the porch. Trunks landed beside him, already charging up an attack. However, before either could even start breaking down the door, Cell had appeared, the door ripped off its hinges, and an angry scowl on his face.

"Juuhachi-gou!" he shouted, his face flushed.

It took some time for that to sink into Trunks and Gohan.

"What about Juuhachi-gou!" Trunks asked loudly, his eyes blazing, "Where's Pai Pai!?"

Cell's eyes glanced over him and then at Gohan.

"They are safe here, but I will not tolerate being followed," he answered evenly, "Or being attacked for that matter."

"I want Pai Pai!!" Trunks snarled stubbornly, "Give her back!!"

The half-Saiyajin threw a punch at Cell, but the latter caught it easily, smirking.

"I will give you your precious Pai Pai back," he told Trunks, "But only if you find Juuhachi-gou for me…She has escaped me."

Trunks tried to drive his fist further, but Cell tightened his grip.

"I won't---violate---your girlfriend in any way, boy," he told him, "Unless you fail me in this task. I'll give you the next eight days to do it."

"Why eight?" Gohan interrupted.

"Because it will give you time to train for the world tournament I plan to hold ten days from now," replied Cell, "For me to make a stage, and announce the tournament on international television. Anyone is welcome to fight me for the Earth."

"A tournament!" Trunks replied sharply, pulling back his fist, "That's ludicrous!"

"Any other suggestions?" Cell eyed him.

Though the half-Saiyajin tried to come up with another idea, he couldn't. Instead, he shook his head fiercely, and Cell laughed.

"I can see why the girl likes you so much," he commented, and Trunks glared at him.

"Don't dare touch her," he warned, his venomous voice sending chills, "I'll personally kill you if you do."

Cell chuckled.

"Don't annoy me, boy."

Gohan tugged on Trunks' arm, but the half-Saiyajin firmly stayed put, his eyes still lingering towards the inside of the cabin. He could almost see Paiji's frightened blue eyes from the darkness and smelled the heavy presence of blood.

"Trunks!" Bulma's voice shouted at him.

Trunks hesitated just a moment more.

"Pai Pai!! I love you!"

Finally, Gohan managed to pull Trunks away from the cabin, and everyone's eyes were Trunks. After some arguing and explaining, they all trooped back to Capsule Corp, where it was agreed what the general plan was for the next eight days. According to Bulma, two people would train in the Time Chamber while the others searched for Juuhachi-gou. The next day, two other people would train, etc. Almost immediately Vegeta wanted to be first, but flatly refused anyone training with him.

"I don't need anyone," he said, indifferent to the complaints.

"It'd work out perfectly," said Bulma, "Trunks and you, next Pen and Basu, then Yamako and Kuririn, and finally Goku and Gohan. If we get Paiji back, she can go in with…"

"I need to train alone," Vegeta cut in sharply.

"God, baka, you're…" Bulma said, then launched into one of her long and somewhat interesting insults at Vegeta.

As usual, he made no response, except to walk out of the room. Trunks looked after him.

"I'll still train with him," he told Bulma, "Whether he likes it or not."

"All right," said Bulma, throwing her hands up in the air and rolling her eyes, "That's just fine."

"Basu and I will go first," spoke up Pen, "If Vegeta won't mind, that is."

Bulma rolled her eyes again, this time, a little exaggerated.

"Sure," she added sarcastically with some acerbity, "He won't mind at all."

~

As soon as the Z Senshi had gone, Cell went back into the cabin. The greeting smell of blood didn't even make him flinch, as hot as it was in there. He heard Paiji cough, and he threw a glare at her. She didn't respond. Cell's arm shot out to here and pulled her close. Paiji kicked him, struggling, but Cell held fast. His cold blue eyes looked deep into her dark blue ones, taking in her half-human beauty. A deep chuckle escaped his throat, and he drew her even closer, making sure that she felt the hardness of his groin.

"You Saiyajins are all the same," he remarked, his rough hands feeling the smooth skin of Paiji's back under her shirt, "So stubborn."

Paiji snarled and tried pushing him, but his hold only tightened. Her breaths were coming short, and the half-Saiyajin still felt nauseous from the blow on the head, and the smell of blood certainly wasn't helping. The room seemed dark and uninviting: most decidedly a place she didn't want to stay long.

"Bastard," she replied, and Cell laughed, heaving her high off the floor.

She tried kneeing him, but felt another sharp pain on her skull. The room suddenly spun, and Paiji felt herself become weak like water in Cell's arms. He adjusted his hold, so that her chin rested on his shoulder. There were soft kisses and little nips on her neck, and Paiji wanted more than anything to just smash his head open on a rock.

"Your promise…" somebody whispered in the darkness.

Cell groaned, replying something like: "Almost done," or something other. He laid down Paiji on the ground and lay next to her, his hand feeling her stomach while the other hand busied itself with her neck and shoulder, occasionally sliding down her shirt front to fondle her breasts. Paiji was too weak to complain, and no one said anything. After what seemed like too long, he finally set Paiji roughly down on the floor. Paiji dully sensed Sotari propping her up on something, probably a pillow. She then heard the crash of a door opening, and someone being dragged outside. Screams immediately followed thereafter.

Four Cell Juniors appeared later, guarding them, while two more went about fetching food, clothing, and the rest of it. The two women weren't allowed to leave the cabin for the next few days, which wasn't such a hardship if it weren't for the miniature Cells watching their every movement. At least there was a clean bathroom and shower. Whenever the women took their turns, they were doubly on their guard, for if Cell's sons were EXACTLY like him…Paiji didn't think about that much. However, it still made her jump, even after three days of being locked up in that cabin, hearing the screams. They flooded her ears the first night, and grew less frequent as the hours wore on, but it was still terrifying.

Only Sotari didn't show any surprise at the screaming. She rarely spoke, and even when one of the Cell Juniors were feeling particularly frisky, she'd only have to glare at them to halt their business. Even if they did uphold their promise, what good was it anyway? As cold-hearted as she used to be, Sotari would often look at Paiji with a pitied look to them, like it was all her fault Paiji was here, and Migino was...At that point, she'd look away, too sad to think and too moody to even argue with the Juniors. Paiji was trying too hard to be strong.

"Am I going to lose myself?" she asked Sotari without even knowing it, "I feel like I've been here forever…"

Sotari gazed past her, looking towards the door, where the screaming had finally subsided.

"That one always keeps his promises," she said, and Paiji wondered if that was really relevant to the question.

At the end of the third day, Cell had come back, and ushered his sons outside. There were a couple chuckles, but then came the dreaded sucking sound. Cell lumbered back into the cabin, feeling very pleased with himself. Paiji gasped and held a hand over her mouth, trying hard not to scream. Her captor saw her expression and laughed.

"Never seen one like it, eh?" he said, fondling himself, "You'll have your turn, 'Pai Pai'…"

Paiji retreated to the bathroom, too sickened to even look at him. She leaned over the toilet, wishing she could vomit up all the nightmares away and flush them for forgetting. Nothing came; just a bit of spit. A groan was audibly heard in the bathroom, and Cell chuckled at Sotari, who said nothing. She simply stood in the middle of the room, gazing at the closed bathroom door. Cell's hand wound around and felt her stomach, pressing her close. Sotari didn't resist, though he clearly made her uncomfortable. His next target was clear, she thought, as his desire felt hard against her back, and the moisture of his warm breath in her ear.

It's over…

"Ah, Nijuuni-gou…" he said softly, "Migino was your best replica…A real pity…"

"I'm sure," said Sotari, "You have someone else in mind?"

"I do," he replied, his other hand exploring the inner folds of her thigh, "I do…"

He pulled her towards the door, and she obliged. In the bathroom, Paiji lifted her head.

There is nothing you can do…

Paiji heard some fighting outside, some laughs, and then…pain. She clutched her chest, feeling her own, tender heart starting to skip faster. Her breaths became quicker, and then… The half-Saiyajin stood up, ran the showerhead, and stepped in without even bother to take off her clothes. For a long while, she heard the screaming, letting the warm water turn cold as she allowed it to run over her. As if the water itself would be a shield from Cell or help her escape from this dreaded place…For a while, Paiji thought of Trunks. The future, the dreams, their memories…And how she never told him how she felt. She'd probably never will…

"Not in this hellhole…"

She thought she heard something outside, seeming as far away as it was. Her hand switched the shower off, and she stood there, soaking and dripping, listening.

"You must be something else," it was Cell's voice, "To hold the attentions of even a Namekian, when all he can do with his manhood is pass water!"

The half-Saiyajin bowed her head and cried at no end.

~

Piccolo coughed hard, sending more blood spitting out from his mouth and agony rippling his stomach. Despite his pain, he forced himself to try and concentrate, even lying there flat on the dark-blue stone that was stained with his own dead blood. Callistus wouldn't let him. She straddled him and leaned forward, her dark brown eyes gazing mockingly into his black ones.

"Well, Piccolo," she teased, grinning and exposing her fangs.

The Namekian scowled at her and her fingernails dug into his skin.

"You see what happens when anger an Onibeing, Piccolo," she continued, "Though you fought very well…Much more feisty than any man I've ever met…"

She slid his turban off his head and began stroking his head, making him extremely uncomfortable. Her touch felt alien and cold like ice. Piccolo started to move but she pressed her legs harder against him, causing another warm gush from his back.

"You fight me even now," Callistus said, rubbing her cheek against his, "How cute…After all I've done to you."

Piccolo grunted, giving her a cynical look. He felt like his back was broken (which it was) and there was a hole bored into his body.

"It just amazes me, Piccolo…Most would've given to me at the very start. Is it because…" she grimaced, "…of Sotari?"

There was a pause. For a moment, Piccolo's thoughts turned to Sotari, a memory of a dream he had once of her. She had been laughing, her fingers running through her golden hair that was glistening in the sun. And he was watching her in awe from a hidden place as she ran lightly on barefoot at the edge of the sea, kicking up sand as she went. Her pink eyes were flashing, her wet skin was shining, and her tail gone. Anything that had suggested she was evil, or even Saiyajin for that matter, was gone. Finally, near the end of the dream, it was the end of the day of watching her. He had started to leave, but she found him, her face flushed pink. Then she held his face in her hands, gazing into those beautiful eyes of his and he the same. What happened next was something Piccolo never forgot. As the sun set, its dark orange glow setting the sky afire and sending sea gulls home to their nests, she kissed him…The end of something too unlike her, yet lay within her.

Sotari…

His fire grew back, and Piccolo gave Callistus the best shove he could manage with a broken back. Startled, she flew back with a shocked expression on her face. He fired a beam at her, burning like acid into her China doll face. Her screams didn't even make him flinch. Piccolo was about to fire another when a familiar, weedy-looking face suddenly flew in front of him. The face belong to a little green demon with wings and claws, and it took a few seconds before Piccolo realized, that behind the demon-thing, was Callistus, howling with pure and unblemished rage at the little fellow, her true colors forcedly unmasked. It did much to shock Piccolo for what she was, but the creature, especially with his back to her, seemed hardly affected. In fact, his appearance could be passed off as not having noticed her at all, except for the slight shift of those darting, conniving eyes. Callistus' roars seemed more amusing to it than anything else did.

By then she was most frightening to behold: her body had stretched long and lean, her arms slightly too long for her legs and her arched back, and her long spindly fingers were as delicate as spider legs equipped with deadly silver razors for nails. Those wings of hers had also grown claws at certain points so as to pierce their victims with stunning accuracy and unwanted extra effort. She leapt and walked more on the balls of her feet for the spike that was now on her heel, effecting in the claws her toenails now were for better grip on the ground. The fangs in her teeth became two of the many pointed teeth that glittered when she smiled. Tiny horns poked from beneath her head of hair. Even her eyes changed, turning into a blazing, dangerous, and poisonous scarlet, with various specks of gold. These eyes were perhaps the only things still considered beautiful, Piccolo reflected briefly, watching as Callistus tore at the stone around her, making deep silver scratches in blue.

Transformed, Callistus stood and reached for the dark night sky with her long fingers, roaring, the human vanquished, and the animal had risen. The other demon smiled, as if this was perfectly normal, and cleared its throat.

"The King of the Dead would like to see the two of you," he said loudly and clearly, "You're on trial…"

Piccolo's eyes averted from the demon-thing and looked instead at Callistus. She didn't seem to understand. The demon didn't even care a bit. Simply snapping his fingers.

"What the hell is he doing?"

Callistus roared again and charged at the two of them, but the cloud of smoke had already surrounded them and was whisking the threesome back to King Enma. By then, it finally dawned on Piccolo just who this demon-thing was. He was Karee, obviously, who could ever forget that stupid face of his? A bright light shone in his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. King Enma's face loomed large and ominously above them, redder than usual from his anger.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE!?!?!?" he hollered at the top of his lungs, "DO YOU KNOW IT'S ILLEGAL TO PASS FROM ONE HELL TO ANOTHER!?!?!?!?"

Piccolo didn't know what to do. Beside him, Karee had disappeared, and reappeared above King Enma's shoulder, giggling gleefully. It suddenly occurred to Piccolo to question just why Karee was laughing.

What is he thinking?

On the other side of him, Callistus changed back in her other form, shooting hateful glances at Piccolo and King Enma. Her clothes were literally in rags, barely clinging to her body and exposing her obvious discomfort. The few people other than her, Piccolo, Karee, and King Enma that were in the room at the time quietly blushed, resisting the urge to whistle and cheer. King Enma banged a giant fist on his desk, attracting Piccolo and Callistus' full attention.

"It has come to my attention," he began mindfully, "that Piccolo, son of Piccolo Daimao…"

His eyes shifted to Piccolo, a maliciously mirthful glint in them.

"…And Callistus of the Beautiful, daughter of Alatus the Winged Dark and Phaedra of the Tragic, have violated…"

A hissing noise came from Callistus, startling a few people present. Piccolo raised an eyebrow, but King Enma droned on for a good bit, not heeding Callistus at all. He must have gotten complaints like that every day.

Alatus…the Winged Dark…

The name stirred a deep memory in Piccolo's mind…Or rather, Daimao's memory (it went that far back). Closing his eyes, he shut out King's Enma's booming voice and minor chatter, focusing…

**(Flashback)**

Daimao's black eyes surveyed the dark landscape, pleased. The surrounding land around him was completely dead, with all life obliterated. Blood smeared the still, pale faces of the ones who still had bodies while lost, ownerless limbs scattered the landscape like a time after a cherry blossom festival. Sightless eyes stared at the sky hauntingly, still accusing their God of abandonment, while their blood dripped from their hands to form a singular river that meandered about, collecting droplets. Even the sky seemed dead, the clouds uneasy and with hints of rain. The moon had hidden her face behind a funeral veil of clouds, mourning for the dead and shunning away from the thick and vile smell of blood. It was the ultimate graveyard…One not only for animals, but also for the whole planet: Daimao's paradise.

His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he grinned, folding his arms. A winged figure rose from behind him, also smiling. Beside and a little behind him was another, but slimmer and slightly shorter. Another still hung among them, but youngest most definitely, since being the shortest of those congregated. More fanged smiles illuminated the blackness. Daimao turned his head slightly, nodding to the first figure. The moon lifted her veil for a moment, reluctantly lighting up the figure's features.

A beautiful male Onibeing, the figure was, one of the elder bloodlines, whose lineage almost totally untainted but for a drop of Elven blood flowing in his proud veins. His skin was a light violet color, his dark brown eyes quick and cunning, and long white hair tied loosely behind to expose slightly pointed ears. He was tall and muscular, wearing the traditional Oni warrior dress of the highest-ranking. It included the black ribbon tied rather elegantly around his right wrist, though seemed rather out of place with his attire. The Namekian knew better though, for the ribbon was a sign of power. And he was not one to contradict that power, as much as his own power was, and he'd make use of this allying power for as long as it did not fight back. The figure held out his hand, just as the moon's light waned and disappeared.

"Piccolo," the Onibeing said, his voice deep and creamy, "Piccolo Daimao."

The Namekian turned around and shook the other's hand, smiling a little wider.

"Alatus," he replied, controlling his smile, "The planet is ours."

Brown eyes looked past him, glancing over the dead landscape with adequate satisfaction.

"It is," he said, though his eyes were not appeased, "It took no time…"

A small chuckle escaped Daimao's lips.

"The Handureshi are nothing," he said, "And their planet is weak. But it will suffice for your people, will it not?"

"It will," replied Alatus, his eyes anything but reassured, though his voice didn't sound at all doubtful, "The moon is beautiful…Perfect for our needs."

"There is flesh enough to last you," said Daimao, casting a careless glance at the nearest body, "Until the next planet you need…"

"Yes, yes," replied Alatus, "It is good."

He turned and motioned to the other two figures, who stepped forward as the moon lit the wet and bloody ground again. Its rays first lighted the fine, delicate face of Alatus' mate. Her wide, cat-shaped eyes of amber, with flecks of gold in them, smiled at Daimao with polite amiability. Daimao gave the ever so slightest jerk at her beauty, which lit something deep within him. He checked himself while Alatus introduced his mate to him. Her name was Phaedra, he told Daimao.

"Of the Tragic," he added, a little ruefully, "My mate has suffered much."

"Indeed," replied Daimao, reaching for Phaedra's hand without a word to Alatus.

A lavender shade crept shyly across Phaedra's turquoise skin as Daimao kissed her hand with an exaggerated flourish. An expression of disgust briefly crossed Alatus' face and turned to look at his child. It took only Daimao a split second before to know that Phaedra was a foolish Onibeing, and easier to manipulate than many women he had seduced. He licked Phaedra's hand suggestively and gave her wrist a little nip. She made a little sound, causing her husband to glance back, but Daimao had already withdrawn his welcome. He grinned at Phaedra, who smiled charmingly back. Alatus finally came between them, though Daimao already knew he had come too late. Phaedra was his. The Namekian smiled politely as Alatus stiffly introduced his son, Lytus. Daimao remarked casually, still eyeing Phaedra knowingly, asking Alatus where he had found such a beautiful mate. The Oni snorted, and he didn't say anything.

***

It was not long after that Daimao had done his work. He had nearly killed Phaedra in the process, but Alatus and Lytus had found her before she passed. The Winged Dark was infuriated at his partner's treason. He sought him all over the dead planet, but Daimao was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until he returned home when he found his only son killed by Daimao himself. In his fury, he finally challenged Daimao to a duel, which the Namekian easily won, by sheer cheating. He had solicited the aid of Alatus' rival Onibeings, who weakened Alatus with their black magic and poisons while Daimao beat the male Oni's being to a pulp. Not long after that event, Daimao went back on his word and murdered his helpers in cold blood, and destroyed what was left of the planet. Phaedra had managed to escape before the destruction, and, even in her weakened state, landed on the near farming planet in the next galaxy, Ukainsah. There, she eventually gave birth to an Onibeing girl, who became as much as a terror to her galaxies as much as Daimao and Alatus had been to theirs. The daughter of the Winged Dark was never found…

**(End flashback)**

"…And so, due to these circumstances," King Enma's voice became loud again, jerking Piccolo awake of his trance, "I, King Enma…"

He eyed Piccolo, that malicious glint back in his eyes. It was obvious he clearly enjoyed his work, as boring as it seemed most of the time. Piccolo had a wild thought that King Enma was talking to him specifically, especially when he saw the giant King of Hell wink at him as he raised a giant hand with an icy stamp in his grasp. The Namekian braced himself, just in case.

"…Condemn Callistus to the Icebox Hell!!"

The hand came down on the desk with a tremendous crash. Piccolo jerked his head at Callistus, watching her reaction. At first, it was disbelief. Then, as her face started to cloud with anger, denial. Then, white-hot energy filled the room, making everybody sweat. Callistus' teeth grew pointed and she started changing again. King Enma rolled his eyes, and Karee flew rapidly down and caught hold of Callistus, laughing out loud as smoke poured from nowhere. As soon as she realized what was happening, Callistus began to struggle, and Karee was clearly having a hard time getting hold of her, causing twin tufts of smoke to stream angrily from his nostrils. She'd slip from his slimy grasp and fly around in circles, but huge, bulky demons with horns appeared from nowhere, poking at her with their sticks, sickles, and other weapons. They'd drive her back, but she, in her panic, started the process all over again when Karee managed to grab her. Piccolo stood rooted to the spot, watching her.

Foolish of her…

Callistus suddenly bobbed up in front of him, her face desperate. Her white hands grabbed his gi and her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him like a frightened child. She burrowed her face in his gi, hiding her face from the hovering Karee. He definitely looked annoyed, and wasn't about to let an Onibeing escape his clutches now. The demon laid an oily hand on her shoulder, but she only tightened her grip on Piccolo.

"Please," she pleaded, in a voice unlike anything she had used on Piccolo, "Help me…"

She looked up at him, gazing deep into his dark eyes.

"…I'll be trapped…Forever…"

Piccolo stared at her, gravely gaping into her own brown eyes. His earlier vision of Callistus came again, this time more sharper and clearer than ever before, and Piccolo could just see…Just behind that laughing figure with endless black hair…A great, craggy pillar where Callistus' hair wrapped around it like a giant restraint. It suddenly came to Piccolo that there was a figure tied to that pillar, but he could only make out the figure's golden hair from the black…Piccolo's eyes hardened like ice.

…The Winged Dark…

His icy eyes found Callistus, who looked thoroughly puzzled and pleading.

"Let go of me," he said, his voice hold the faint trace of a growl.

She scowled at him, as if she had truly expected him to help her.

"No."

The Onibeing clung as tightly as ever, ignoring Karee's futile attempts to pry her away and the sharp pokes and stabs of bladed weapons. Even Piccolo's head butt didn't affect her the slightest bit. The Namekian finally had to resort to biting the tender part of her throat, causing her to cry in pain and loosen her hold for a second. Karee flew at her, and several guards took fast of her arms, legs, and wings. Callistus struggled, and a sharp voice pierced the air towards Piccolo: "I will haunt, you, son of Piccolo Daimao! There will be no end to the nightmares you will have!! And Sotari…"

Callistus' voice paused a moment, letting her message sink in as the smoke surrounded her and the escorts. As she disappeared, her voice stilled echoed: "…I shall end her…!"

Piccolo stood as before, his arms folded and his frown deep. It was not Callistus' statement that was troubling him; he knew she wasn't the type to boast…Her father hadn't been either. He suddenly realized that he and Callistus could possibly be half siblings. The thought sickened him temporarily, but it sunk into Piccolo that that was highly unlikely; her eyes were too much like her father's. Still, one could never be sure…

"As for you, son of Piccolo Daimao," Piccolo heard King Enma's faraway voice declare, "I…"

The great man drew himself up and sighed, with a touch of reluctance. Piccolo suspected something, and his hunch was right, though not in the way he expected of King Enma, Lord of the Dead!

"…I was wrong…" King Enma said, dragging out the words.

The Namekian found himself gaping at him.

"What?"

King Enma glared at him.

"It's all Kami's fault! I remember him skulking around here the first time you died, pleading with me with all he had as Earth's Guardian to let you off to the North Kai's. Honestly! Haven't heard such cheek since the day I…"

He rambled on for a few minutes, and Piccolo quickly grew restless. However, he was spared as a blue-horned man with thick glasses peeked into the office, looking extremely nervous.

"Uh, sir," he said timidly in an annoying nasal tone, "They're getting quite restless outside…"

The Lord of the Dead waved an impatient hand, breaking off from his circumlocution.

"A minute," he said, and the man disappeared.

His shrewd, peering eyes found Piccolo again, picking up some papers from his desk, and fingering one of two stamps on his desk. One was the stamp from before, of Dysodea. The other was one Piccolo hadn't seen before. It was rather plain looking in some respects, but it was obvious that it was for one of the Hells. King Enma played with it a moment more, then picked it up, resolute.

"I'm moving you up, Namekian," he said gruffly (in a good way, Piccolo thought), "To Jigoku. In the, uh, 'light' of some previous events…"

He paused, wondering if he should go on. The blue-horned man appeared again, peering around the edge of the same doorway as before, but looking rather harassed. Shouts of irate and impatient clouds/souls could be audibly heard.

"…Anyway," King Enma said quickly, anxious, "You've been proven better by your adopted sire, and you should be grateful, son of Piccolo Daimao…"

Piccolo cringed at the familiar statement, but King Enma took no notice.

"…So here it goes!" he announced, stamping hard on a paper, "Instant transfer to Jigoku."

There was a glint in his eye as a large, red-skinned man with horns and glasses came forward with a club in one hand. Piccolo knew he was from Jigoku, acting as an escort, and gave him a classic Piccolo-smile. The man instantly looked frightened, almost dropping his club. The Namekian nearly laughed out loud, and walked ahead of the man, feeling very pleased with himself. King Enma watched them go, and shook his head, filing away Piccolo's papers. The blue-horned man fully stepped into the room, holding a list, and proclaimed in his annoying voice: "Hipotoclytesh---Clyte for short---from the Planet…"

"Rush hour," King Enma muttered, "I should take a vacation…"

~

Already seven days had gone by on Earth, and not even a hint of Juuhachi-gou. It was on everyone's nerves, Trunks' especially. Whenever anyone wasn't training or preparing for the tournament, they'd go out in small groups. The watch for Juuhachi-gou was almost 24 hours a day, with at least one person on duty. However, this method did nothing to turn up any new clues. Bulma had sent Trunks and Gohan to see if there was anything that could be found in Gero's old lab. The two had indeed found an underground lab of the dead scientist, which resulted in one significant discovery: blueprints of Juuanna-gou. They also found the larvae form of Cell, which they, on consulting Bulma, decided to bring back to Capsule Corp for study. It was then Bulma was working her hardest, and even with her brilliant father at her side, she was lucky to go to bed at all for the entire duration of three whole days.

"Damn," she sighed, rubbing her eyes and yawning, "Can't…stay awake. Ugh."

She rolled her shoulders back a bit and stretched, shaking her head. Mr. Briefs looked up from his work.

"More coffee?" he asked, holding a mug out to his daughter.

Bulma quickly snatch the cup from her father and gulped the drink down gratefully. Her father glanced at the clock on the wall, shaking his head.

"3am, Bulma," he said, stifling a yawn, "I'm going to bed…Good luck."

"Night, Dad," Bulma mumbled, craning over a small black box.

A sharp snap sounded in the hall, followed by footsteps until they stopped at the doorway of the lab.

"Hello, Trunks," Bulma said without looking up as her son came into the room.

"Morning, Kaa-san," replied Trunks, taking a seat next to his mother.

"Any luck?"

Trunks shook his head.

"Nothing…As usual."

Bulma's tired eyes stopped a moment and looked at her son.

"Don't give up…We'll find her soon."

"It's the last day, Kaa-san!" Trunks protested, frowning, "If we haven't found her now, what then? What about Pai Pai?"

"Trunks," interrupted Bulma with exhausted patience, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Listen to me."

She held up a little black box in her hand. Trunks looked with interest.

"This is the same control device that Gero used to control the jinounzingen. Though they didn't have the ki that we can detect from living things, they did give off a special energy that was used from…"

"You mean we can track Juuhachi-gou?"

"…Of course. It's all the matter of…"

Bulma pressed a blue button. The device lit up, and a green screen appeared with a various dots on it.

"It works like the Dragon Ball Radar," explained Bulma, pointing the dots, "Only instead of Dragon Balls, we get the registered ki of people. Like this one…That's Goku and this one is…"

Trunks' eyes widened.

"You made something like that in the future," he told Bulma, "Only it was built in the bomb shelter and larger."

"Really?"

It was Bulma's turn to be surprised. Trunks smiled. He reached for the device.

"What's the red button for?"

"That," said Bulma, growing serious, "Is for Juuhachi-gou."

She showed it to him.

"You press it down hard and it'll shut her system down. Of course, you won't be able to do this if you don't know where she is. It only works if you're less than twenty feet of her."

"Twenty feet!?"

"Yes, twenty feet. That's why I had the ki-sensing thing in the same device. Makes it easier, no?"

"Why couldn't have we done this earlier!?"

Bulma drew herself up, her eyes lit. For a moment, she looked frightening to Trunks, who cringed, waiting for an inevitable slap. When it didn't come, he opened an eye, and Bulma nearly burst out laughing.

"You're too old for slaps," she teased, pinching his cheek, "Besides, I couldn't have done this earlier; you only brought me the plans of Juuanna-gou only three days ago."

"Four," Trunks corrected.

His mother gave a slight scowl.

"Just like you! Always wanting the last word!"

Trunks snatched the black box, grinning.

"Thanks, Kaa-san! I'll try it right now!"

"Wait!" Bulma called after him, "Isn't it Kuririn's turn for watch?"

The half-Saiyajin didn't hear her his heart leapt. He ran from the room, literally skipping.

It won't be long now…

Another snap of a door down the hall, and Bulma sighed. She leaned back in her swivel chair, rubbing her eyes.

"That boy…Going to marry Paiji someday."

"He's crazy if you ask me," said someone.

Bulma kept her eyes closed.

"Good morning, Kuririn."

The short bald monk came in and leaned against a counter.

"Tired, huh?"

His friend nodded.

"I just finished something for shutting down Juuhachi-gou."

Kuririn looked pained.

"I've…Never seen her before. She seems---Nice---"

Bulma nearly fell out of her chair. Her eyes snapped open and stared, mouth slightly open, making Kuririn extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"Nice!?" Bulma said loudly.

The other turned a dark shade of maroon. He began shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting every which way in the room.

"Well, um, I mean---in the manner of speaking---of course I don't really…"

Bulma raised an eyebrow.

"I wondered why there were so many newspapers lying around the house," she said in an accusing voice, "With Juuhachi-gou and her brother's faces plastered on every front page and the heading 'Killer Jinounzingen Attack!' in bold letters. Not particularly good pictures, and rather blurry, but many of them feature mostly Juuhachi-gou…"

Bulma's eyes gave off a spark.

"You love a jinounzingen, Kuririn?" she asked softly, but incredibly surprised, emphasizing on the word for an artificial human.

Kuririn didn't meet her gaze, still fidgeting at every passing second.

"Kuririn," continued Bulma, folding her arms in a dissatisfied way, "I'm one of your oldest friends, right? I know about this sort of thing. You can't just go around falling in love with someone like that…Especially if that certain someone is an enemy of ours!"

Her friend cringed, but one of his straying eyes locked with hers.

"She might be…" he stammered, "It's possible---but…I must be mad---or dreaming---you wouldn't understand…"

Bulma threw up her hands and gave a very loud sigh of exasperation.

"What the hell are you talking about? Spit it out, Kuririn!"

"She…Might be different!" blurted out Kuririn, a new flush of pink on his cheeks.

"WHAT!?"

The feeling of a shocked stare filled the atmosphere. Kuririn turned an even deeper shade of red.

"I…I…" he stuttered, "It's just---I mean---Don't take that as…What I'm trying to say is…"

Bulma held up a firm hand, silencing him.

"Ludicrous," she said coldly, "Simply ludicrous. Cyborgs are cyborgs. They are created simply for the purpose of fulfilling the things humans can't do. There is only information. Any feelings that these---beings---have are purely artificial."

She almost glared at him.

"I suggest you rethink your actions, Kuririn, if you don't wish to die under the hand of a cyborg…Like our friend Piccolo."

The latter struck Kuririn, but it didn't sink in. He nodded in empty-headed agreement, like someone who didn't understand English. Kuririn quietly left the room as Bulma sunk back into her swivel chair, pinching her third eye.

"Ludicrous," she repeated to herself, not hearing the click of the door down the hall, "Simply ludicrous…"

Outside, Kuririn sped into the twinkling sky, sensing out Trunks' ki. He had to stop him! His heart was thumping as fast as those images of Juuhachi-gou. She looked so fierce in those pictures in the newspapers, extremely aggressive, which made her dangerous. Kuririn almost wished he could agree with Bulma and everyone else. Juuhachi-gou was their enemy and deserved to be hated…Or did she? The bald monk found himself slowing down.

"No, she's human," he mused, "Like everyone else, only…different."

Another flash of Juuhachi-gou lit his mind. This was a particularly intriguing picture of her, in one of those obscure, local papers Kuririn had picked up. It depicted a photograph of her, by herself, and slightly blurred, but better than most pictures. She was rushing forward, her arms stretched back, eyes straight ahead, as if she was flying.

Maybe even escaping…

His eyes gazed at the landscape before him. It was a dark, beautiful morning, the half-moon clinging like a child to its starless mother sky. The forests below him were lush and peaceful, and the air was warm with bits of playful, freezing wind. A far-off lake sparkled like it was holding stars in its waters, its streams carrying away some of the silver gleams to the vast and black ocean on the horizon. There were some foggy parts hanging over some areas of the forests, coloring the green with silvery gray. To Kuririn, it seemed like such a faraway world. One that was of the elder world, its time frozen while the rest of the world wasted away. He wished he could stay here forever…

A rustle below disturbed him. Kuririn looked down, his eyes skimming over the treetops. The flash of yellow suddenly caught his eye, and a pair of ice blue eyes followed. They stared at him for a moment and Kuririn the same. The understanding was exchanged in a fleeting second, and the lights of Juuhachi-gou's eyes blinked away, green leaves covering her again.

"Wait!" cried Kuririn, reaching for her and flying down to the tree, "Juuhachi-gou!"

Wait for me…

He literally crashed into the treetop, dismembering branches, scattering leaves, and causing the whole tree to sway from his weight. It eventually swung so much, that the trunk the snapped and Kuririn fell hard on the ground in a tangle of tree things. There was much spitting of leaves out of his mouth and checking for scratches, that Kuririn didn't notice at first the pretty face that was quietly laughing at him in the bushes. Juuhachi-gou finally walked right up to him and touched his back. Kuririn gave a jump, falling forwards. The jinounzingen chuckled again.

"Hello, little man," she said sweetly, "What are you doing out here?"

It was plainly apparent she wasn't afraid of him. Kuririn spat out another leaf and picked himself up, trying to regain some of his dignity. Juuhachi-gou smiled at his nervousness while Kuririn tried to say something.

"I'm---uh---just…Well, it's late, but I…the reason I…"

Kuririn scratched his head, trying to think of something to say. Back at Capsule Corp, there had been plenty to say. Mostly in front of a mirror, and most the words he practiced seemed rather stupid, but it was better than stammering and stuttering like an idiot.

"I…I…" he tried again.

Juuhachi-gou reached out and began stroking his head.

"What's wrong, little man?"

His face grew a bright pink, and his palms began to sweat. Her touch was wonderful, sending exciting electric chills all over him, filling him with happiness. The monk could almost swear his heart was skipping beats.

She's touching me!

The words pounded in his head like his heart, and Kuririn's eyes shone like two bright stars. At that moment, he knew that he loved her, and he didn't care who she was or what she had done, but he was going to marry her. In his mind's eye, he was already seeing flashes of their wedding and their children…If only she knew!

"I…I…" he mumbled, which was all he could of what was going on in his mind.

"You're kind of cute," Juuhachi-gou said, leaning forward, "But short."

The last comment drenched Kuririn's hopes a moment. His face turned redder.

"R-really?" he stammered, feeling like kicking himself for being so stupid.

"Yes," she said, then paused.

She withdrew her hand, and Kuririn's head felt cold again.

"Am I," she said, "Human?"

"What?"

Kuririn stared at her, and saw that she was serious. Her playful expression was gone.

"I heard you talking about me," she said, "With your friend at Capsule Corp…I was hoping to---visit, but then I stopped to listen outside through the walls. You said that I seemed…nice."

Juuhachi-gou studied his reaction. Kuririn was slightly confused. The situation seemed delicate, now that she was practically being two different people at the same time. The Juuhachi-gou who had greeted him was coy and mischievous, taking pleasure in others being uncomfortable. The one standing before him was…different. More sensitive…Sad…There was reason to wonder at such sudden changes of emotions.

Perhaps…It's her human side talking to me now…

The cyborg looked at him hard.

"Well?" she said, a touch of her other side in her voice.

"Yes, I said those things," Kuririn said, not stammering this time, "I thought…That you were different from your brother. From Cell and Sotari…"

She looked at him thoughtfully.

"I am," she replied, "I hope I am, at least…I don't know."

Juuhachi-gou set herself down in the wet grass, and Kuririn sat next to her.

"It's been so long," she said, "Since I thought about it. You never think of yourself as a human once you do things normal humans can't do. And your other personality---the one that comes with being a cyborg---is so driven to be a cyborg that you forget yourself. There were times I even forgot I had been a human at one time and had always been a cyborg."

Her eyes looked at him, searching.

"What made you think I was…nice?"

Kuririn blushed.

"You're…you're beautiful."

"That's not the point," she replied, a little disappointed and annoyed at his answer, "There are lots of people who are beautiful and are horrible…Like me."

"No, don't say that," said Kuririn quickly, "You aren't horrible! You shouldn't say things like that about yourself!"

"But I am! I am! Look how many people I've killed!"

She was starting to stand up, but Kuririn stood up after her as she began stalking off into the woods again.

"You're not horrible!" Kuririn called after her; "You're just…jaded."

There was a pause. Juuhachi-gou halted in her tracks, listening for more.

"Jaded?" she said aloud.

"You're tired of being a cyborg," said Kuririn, trying to explain his meaning, "You regret all the things you've done and you want to be free. I know it!"

His eyes looked at her back searchingly in the dark, hoping she understood. She gave no response. He tried again.

"You're different from the android Gero wanted you to be. Just by talking to me, you've defeated his purpose. You aren't who you're supposed to be, and you know it. No one can force you to be someone else…"

Kuririn paused, hoping more than ever that he could reach her. He wanted to save her. The natural, human thing to do…

I love you, Juuhachi-gou…

"Stay with me," he said, "Be with me. If you don't have anywhere to go, I'll be here. I'll be anywhere you want to be, Juuhachi-gou. Even if it's to the moon or something I'll be there. No one deserves to be lonely, even if they've done some bad things in the past, but the past is the past and we should forget and forgive…"

He took a breath and held it, hoping… Juuhachi-gou slowly turned around, her eyes locked on him. There was no feeling of emotion in her face. Perhaps, if Kuririn's guess was correct, slightly dazed. It was hard to tell, the night so dark and her so cryptic. Somehow, it seemed to be a tendency in Gero's female cyborgs. Always changing their emotions at the turn of a second and reverting back the next. One could never be sure of their exact thoughts, even if one knew them very well. Kuririn himself did not know now, for he could only stand and wait. The cyborg still seemed to be dazed, considering an answer.

"I…" she began to say softly.

There was a crack of a twig. Juuhachi-gou jerked her head sharply to her right, then darted left. Before Kuririn knew what was happening, he saw her fall, waving her arms and her mouth moving to form a cry…The sound of a soft thud in the grass alerted Kuririn's attentions. He dashed forward to aid her, as powerless as he was, but as soon as he cradled her in his arms and looked deep into those wide, starless eyes, he knew. The monk looked up accusingly in the dark bushes and cried out.

"Who's there!"

Trunks emerged from the bushes and approached them, clutching the black box tightly. So tautly his fingers grasped the box, his hand was white and shaking slightly. But his eyes were firm and cold.

"Why are you here, Kuririn?" he said, now standing before them, "I was taking care of this."

"Trunks," said Kuririn, then looking at Juuhachi-gou, "You've killed her."

The half-Saiyajin didn't even flinch.

"Had to," he said curtly, "For Pai Pai's sake."

Kuririn glared at him.

"For your sake," Trunks added, eyeing Kuririn, "She would've killed you."

"No," said Kuririn, his eyes like black ice, "She isn't like that."

The fleeting memory of his fight with Juuhachi-gou came back to Trunks. His first impression never left him. Juuhachi-gou, he thought, was a wily and dangerous girl. Aggressive and mischievous, though willing to play along with her brother's foolish, childish wishes for gore. Not much like the Mirai Juuhachi-gou at all, who was annoyed at humans, only going along with her brother because of his own bloody passion. She was formidable though; definitely someone to be avoided at all costs. Trunks stiffened at the mental pictures.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said, leaning down and tucking the box in his pocket, "I've…"

His friend shot out a hand, whacking Trunks' hand away.

"Don't touch her!"

He lifted her up on his own, all the while glaring at Trunks, and thinking how much he had taken after Bulma.

They're rather like the androids, come to think of it…Cold and unfeeling. Swift in their decision of taking lives, not caring about what they'll destroy, internally or externally…So selfish!

"I'll hold her," he said coldly, "You'd drop her."

Trunks shrugged his shoulders. Obviously, he saw nothing wrong with turning off Juuhachi-gou. He rose in the air and hovered, waiting. Kuririn nodded and rose, too. The half-Saiyajin flew ahead to wake the others at Capsule Corp, while the other lagged a little behind, gazing into her still face, and contemplating…

~

Latin names: callistus-beautiful; dysodea-evil-smelling; felosmus-foul-smelling, alatus-winged.

Callistus-By pure coincidence, there is a saint called Callistus. His life consisted of several occupations at different times: slave, banker, convict, and pope. He was martyred later, and his feast day is October 14.

Oni: In Shinto, there is a class of demon that is found both in the living and the dead called 'Oni'. They are believed to be responsible for all sorts of misery, from famine to disease, and can assume either or both human and animal forms, though most are invisible. Only diviners or especially virtuous people (Piccolo isn't in either class; He's just smart!) can detect these demons and subdue them.

Pelias: In Greek mythology, he is known as the treacherous brother of King Aeson of Iolcus (the father of Jason, the seeker of the Golden Fleece). He overthrew his brother and later ordered his death, angering Jason. With his soon-to-be-bride, Medea, the couple plotted a gruesome plot of the murder of Pelias. Medea tricked Pelias' daughters into chopping their father's body and cooking the pieces (this action caused angry mobs to chase Jason and Medea out of the country, rather than putting them on the thrones as their proper rulers).

Phaedra: The Phaedra known in Greek mythology was the mad second wife of Theseus (famous hero and adventurer). Theseus' first son from his first marriage was Hippolytus, who was quite grown up and attractive by this time, and often ignored the approaches of Aphrodite (goddess of sexuality, etc.), preferring to hunt in the forests of Artemis (twin sister of Apollo and goddess of the hunt and moon). This snub of her authority angered Aphrodite, who made Phaedra fall madly in love with her stepson. The queen tried to hide her passion, but her nurse revealed the secret to Hippolytus, who was terribly disgusted and fled. When the queen killed herself in her grief, she left an incriminating letter accusing Hippolytus of rape. Theseus, upon discovering the letter, put a curse on his son, who was later killed when his horses dragged him to death.

Kurin: The cousin of the dragon in Chinese mythology and the equivalent of the widely known griffin, though the kurin looks like a goat with a dragon's head. It is said whenever a kurin appears in the sky and the Books of Knowledge appear after it, then a saint has been born.

Kappas: water demons in Japanese mythology that look like ducks with turtle shells on their backs and a saucer-like depression in their heads. They like sumo wrestling, cucumbers, the taste of human blood, and dragging people into water to drown them. The only way to defeat a kappa is by either giving it a cucumber or to bow to it. By bowing, the kappa will be obligated to return it, and the water in its head (which must always be filled) will spill. Or, if it'll accept the gift of a cucumber, it will give away secrets of medicine and its friendship.

Semele: was actually the daughter of Cadmus (founder of the Greek city of Thebes) in Greek mythology, whom Zeus had an affair with. Hera, overcome with jealous rage, disguised herself as an old woman and convinced Semele to ask Zeus to show himself in his fullest glory. The god did, quite reluctantly, and the sight was too much for the mortal to bear, so Semele was burned away. However, Zeus was able to rescue their unborn son (the god Dionysus) from her ashes.

Basilisk: As depicted in Harry Potter, these creatures are huge snakes. Of course, some early artists disagreed, since they literally followed the myth of the Basilisk's origin of having been the offspring of a rooster/chicken with a snake. Other myths said that the Basilisk came from cobras, as they were sometimes depicted as large serpents with a crown or a white mark on their forehead.