Angst and Cliffhangers present…
An Evil Authoresses Production....
Parable of the Eagle
Chapter 1
Tall buildings shadowed overhead, hover cars noisily
speeding along the invisible air-way "road". The heart of West City was
bustling with activity; everyone was going somewhere, doing something.
These pitiful humans. Although, even if they were weak and inferior—they
had somewhere to go, something to do. Regal features hardened into a scowl,
rigid steps becoming choppier though they still held the fluid grace of
a warrior.
He didn't know where he was going—or what he's going to do. Just for the meantime though—since his overall goals were still set in stone. He needed to train, to achieve the Legendary. It was close; he could feel the power just barely brushing his fingers. But, did he have the time? It'd been two and a half years since the warning about the androids. He needed to train—
"I turned off the Gravity Chamber, Vegeta. It's just for one day!!"
"Woman, I do not have time for your petty games, tu-"
"I will NOT turn it back on until you see your SON!"
An explosion of dust and brick startled bystanders as they spun with wide eyes towards the source. What they saw puzzled them; the corner of the old-fashioned red brick Red Dice Restaurant appeared to have been hit with a sledge-hammer. Or a truck. The people of West City blinked and looked around and at each other, the majority musing out loud on what could have caused the damage. None of them noticed the flame-haired man who was dressed in a simple black button-down shirt and khaki pants disappear into the back alleys.
"Shit…" he muttered, absently dusting off the red dust from his knuckles. This was all the woman's fault—his son's fault. He was always composed, in complete control… 'Til them. The idea of that infuriating woman inhibiting his precious training time was absurd, and just because he had no desire whatsoever to see his new-born son.
Trunks.
That's what she called him. Born just a mere 6 hours ago.
"Bah, what use is it if I look at the brat anyway? It's not like he'll know I'm there. It's not like I wanted him."
Damn that woman. He couldn't even get a decent way of blowing off steam without her participating. She didn't slap him, yell at him, or even frown. Just gave him one of her "understanding" smiles before sighing dramatically. Just like that without even bothering to yell back—like she usually would.
"Oh, whatever, Vegeta. Just know that I'll turn the chamber back on once I see you once by his crib. Now, shoo! I need my rest!"
He was beyond angry—why, he could have turned into the Legendary right there! How dare she order him around like that!? Didn't she realize how easy it was for him to kill her and the brat? He didn't even need to raise his arms! A simple kiai would have splattered the woman flat against the walls.
What was he thinking? Of course she knew.
But she also knew even more that he could never bring himself to raise a finger against them.
And so, he had stormed out of the Capsule Corps grounds and walked. Interestingly enough, he was so angry, so frustrated, that he didn't even feel like destroying something. He just wanted to get away from her, her blasted parents, and her newborn brat.
"Damn woman...." he once again muttered, stomping through the winding alleys in no particular destination. A sudden scuffle of feet alerted him and he turned his head towards a small passage, his curiosity piqued. After all, maybe a street brawl would give him a good laugh.
His eyebrow rose when he took a couple more steps towards the source, giving him a clear view of the scene. Street kids, punks, dirty teens, whatever they were, surrounded a much smaller figure. There were a dozen of them, scrawny yet sinister looking, cracking knuckles and smirking. The much smaller figure was visibly the dirtiest, mud soaked rags upon a wiry body with a mess of matted hair upon a head. It was the eyes and expression of the boy that caught his attention.
"Give it up, kid," one of the tallest boys sneered, "this is our turf, visitors aren't allowed unless they pay rent." A couple of guffaws were passed around to the joke. "And you've been here for days without us knowing; do you know we charge interest?"
The supposed leader was answered with a cold smirk. The small boy merely stood there, his arms crossed without a trace of fear. The group that surrounded him noticed his lack of "respect" and scowled loudly. "You little shit! We're going to wipe that smirk off your face!!"
It was probably from the way the boy's smirk widened into an excited grin that Vegeta knew the larger teens were going to lose—badly. He was even mildly amused to see that the small boy didn't just trade blows and kicks as the punks did, but fought. A balanced kick, deliberate blows—the child clearly knew martial arts.
The kid effortlessly dodged the first fist and spun out of the way of another. One then came with a full frontal tackle to which the boy easily met head on with a knee under the chin, breaking a few teeth with a loud crack. Using the falling body as a stepping stone, he immediately sent a flying kick to another coming up from the front, successfully getting a devastating hit to the neck. Realizing two of their comrades were already down, the rest of the teens renewed their assault with angry cries. It was surprisingly quick how the boy defeated them, no unnecessary moves wasted.
Soon, he and the boy were the only ones standing, moans and groans coming from few of the not-unconscious-enough punks echoing in the alleyway. It was the manner the boy stood, eyeing his defeated opponents with a patronizing smirk, which made it appear as if he would raise his fingers the next moment and blast their bodies into ashes. Just like how he would do.
He flashed on a memory from long ago—not suppressed, necessarily, but forgotten, buried under the new memories which had flooded his life in recent years. The old times were just that: old. He'd lost them to the mists of time passage. He saw himself, no older than this child before him, surrounded by bodies as the boy was. But while this child's victims still lived, still breathed, each and every one of his were all dead—some by blasts, some by severed heads or other limbs—but all dead.
It had been pounded into his mind and body for years never to leave living victims on the raids. They would all be killed eventually, may as well make the death quick and go ahead and get it over with.
But Vegeta, never loath to admit it, killed for the pure pleasure of it. He got a grim satisfaction from a "job well done"—that is, one successfully carried out fully. He looked down at the tiny hands, his hands, and saw how stained with blood they were.
An elder Saiyan, sent to accompany him on the mission, looked down at him and smiled, then passed the young prince a pair of white gloves.
"They will never stain, your Majesty—you may now hunt without worry of being marked."
It was too easy for Vegeta to see himself at that age, to see the bodies of alien races strewn about in pieces at his feet. Seeing himself reduce the remains to ashes just because he could. The boy's expression mirrored his perfectly; Vegeta could almost hear what the boy was thinking. Weaklings. Pathetic fools.
"Why don't you kill them?"
His voice startled both of them, not expecting to say the words out loud. The boy snapped his eyes up to Vegeta and immediately narrowed, alert and cautious. The dirt and grime smeared across the boy's otherwise fair skinned face contrasted sharply with deep blue orbs. A blue darker—colder—than the blue of the woman that danced with life.
Silence stretched between them before the boy spoken with a curiously high pitched voice, "They aren't worth getting my hands dirty."
Vegeta laughed. He even noticed the boy's small grin from understanding just what was so laughable about the statement. The boy's hands were already filthy, blackened nails with dirt that lined into every crack. Spots that were lighter than others, particularly around the knuckles, attested to the fact that the boy's hands were actually cleaner after "wiping" them off on the bodies of the older kids.
Vegeta stopped his laughter before beckoning the child over with a sharp tilt of his head. "Come here brat."
"Why should I?"
"Because I said so and you have nothing else better to do."
The boy frowned but complied to Vegeta's orders none the less, approaching him with guarded steps, his blue eyes staring intently into black, watching the man's every move. Vegeta smirked at the boy's actions, unknowingly comparing it to his own behavior at the same age. The kid stopped just out of attack range in the minimal safe distance if Vegeta was to lash out.
"…So?" The boy inquired, glaring faintly with curiosity.
"Where did you learn to fight?"
A flash of pain in the boy's eyes was gone before Vegeta could properly identify the emotion. "I was taught."
"By?"
"My father." Vegeta didn't say anything but just gave the boy a hard look. "He's dead," continued the boy curtly, answering Vegeta's unspoken question.
Interesting. Very interesting. Here was a child that somehow clicked with him, a child that was able to catch his interest the moment Vegeta laid eyes on him. Not even all those years with Nappa and Raditz were the two fools able to ever appear as… compatible as this small child did then. Maybe because the boy reminded Vegeta of himself so much that it was taking on a surreal edge.
What if….
He was insane; the sudden idea that came then to him was ludicrous, uncharacteristic of him. Vegeta didn't even know what suddenly gave him the thought. However, one last question would make him decide. It all depended just how similar the boy was to him. How the boy would answer.
"What do you want more than anything else now?"
Thin eyebrows furrowed before lowering into a determined frown. "Power," the boy grounded out firmly, "I want power."
And that simple, correct, answer made Vegeta smile darkly. "What are you willing to risk?"
"My life. My pride. Not that I have anything else left."
"To gain it, are you willing to face unimaginable pain? So much that all you'll be thinking about would be the pain itself?"
No hesitation. "Yes."
Vegeta held out a hand. "Come with me. And you'll have what you want."
Moments passed by before a small dirty hand reached
up to his.
The boy was making little noises and grunts, obviously amazed at the height. Or more likely it was because of the speed. Vegeta kept his face passive and continued on, his right hand roughly clamped on the back of the boy's slender neck—like one would do when holding a kitten.
The Saiyan's white ki pulsated around them, providing
little protection against the sharp sting of winds. The boy didn't protest
though, even when he could hardly lift his arms to shield his face. Good
boy, Vegeta mentally chuckled with more grim amusement than satisfaction.
The last thing Vegeta needed was a whiny screamer.
They headed southeast to a place Vegeta calculated might be the best location to…evaluate the boy further. Five minutes into the flight Vegeta's eyes rebelled against his will and swiveled downwards, hawk-like vision able to discern the rocky landscape with grudging familiarity. The cracks and craters were already covered with greenery—though the more damaged spots remained bare. Ki scorched marks still marred these places, a testament to a battle fought years ago. For Vegeta, it was a battle lost.
His eyes even picked two unnaturally smooth rock formations—both that appeared to have half of them both sliced off cleanly. It was—ki sliced—and the memory after the failed attempt by the short monk was one Vegeta would scowl at even in his sleep. He had to grudgingly admit though; the mistake was his own, no matter how much it was a blow to his pride.
Ignoring the unwelcome memories that came with the scenery, Vegeta poured more speed into the flight, rendering his passenger even more helpless than before. Still, the boy remained silent save for the occasional grunt if Vegeta's hand tightened too much to keep the boy in his grasp. It was fortunate that the next minute or so was the end of the flight.
Vegeta landed smoothly and all but carelessly dropped the boy unto the grass. The pleasant plateau was green and teeming with life. A small lake shimmered in the afternoon sun to their right; frogs, birds, insects, and fish creating ripples according to their own agendas. The landscape was covered with towering rock formations that were riddled with a dozen or so caves, firmly held together by roots from various fruit trees.
The Saiyan gave a disgusted snort as the child doubled over and vomited—no doubt because of the journey. His black eyes then slowly scanned all about, gathering enough clues from the surroundings to discern that the area they were in was indeed where the Namek had brought Kakarrot's son to. Deep trenches that still held telltale traces of the half-breed's ki were present even after all the years.
"Brat, come here," commanded Vegeta after the boy had washed out the sour taste from his mouth at the lake.
Once near enough for a polite conversation, the boy voiced his bewilderment. "H-how—you… You flew…" the words rolled off the boy's tongue as if the boy was still trying to convince himself. Vegeta hadn't really given him time to prepare, letting the boy follow him to somewhere quiet before grabbing hold of the child and blasting off.
"That is not important now. See it as—a preview of what I can teach you. Of what powers you can gain."
Blue eyes snapped open and it was then Vegeta caught glimpse of both anticipation and disbelief burning inside. "Really? I could—fly?"
Vegeta smirked and held out a finger to a nearby towering boulder. "You can't possibly start to imagine, child," he whispered lowly, "of the power." And with that, a beam of blue light rocketed from his fingers to collide with the boulder head on. The explosion was deafening and the boy was thrown a few feet back, unable to stand up from the aftershock. The dust settled and all that was left was a smoldering hole. He openly gaped before slowly getting back on his feet.
"If you wish to posses even a fraction of this power, you must first prove your worth."
Turning his head slowly towards Vegeta, the boy just nodded in determination. For a moment, Vegeta genuinely wondered just why the boy was so calm, so composed. Hardly a child his age—whatever his age was—could ever be so unruffled faced with things unseen from that planet. Accepting, like a sponge—would Vegeta's every word and action be soaked up as easily?
For the boy's own sake, it had better.
"I'm going to leave you here—," the child's eye widened fractionally,"—for about a year. Or for whatever length I desire. If you're still alive when I return, I will teach you the ways of a warrior race—my ways."
It was a brilliant plan if Vegeta would say so himself. He had no time to waste with the boy now, not with the Super Saiyan level so close and the androids to worry about later. Leaving the boy here—a place even Kakarrot's son could survive—would both be basic training and a test to see if the boy possessed even a shred of Saiyan talent. Gohan, Kakarrot's half-breed son, was years younger than this boy when he was here—surely the human child could manage surviving in the wilderness where a four year old half-breed could. Of course, Vegeta didn't know that Gohan was considerably helped by being given a sword by Piccolo. The boy in front of Vegeta then had nothing but the rags on his little body.
"… How can I be so sure you'll pick me up later?"
Vegeta nearly chuckled at the boy's question. The boy seemed pretty confident he would survive. The terms on his side wasn't questionable; it was the terms on Vegeta's side. "First rule, brat. Never question me," he pressed darkly, hiding his amusement.
The boy was taken aback by Vegeta's scowl, a small trace of fear visible in the boy's stance. After a moment, he nodded curtly, "Yes, Mr.…?"
"Vegeta," the man supplied, floating back up in the air. He was about to blast off when he remembered he hadn't gotten the boy's name. "Boy!" Vegeta called out, "What's your name?"
The boy gave him a peculiar stare before answering. "It's actually girl."
Vegeta's left eyebrow rose ever so subtly. The boy was female? That would explain the high-pitched voice and small frame. He—she was simply too dirty; whatever feminine features present were covered in dirt or hidden by filthy rags. Almost immediately Vegeta wanted to call off his spur of the moment plan, but ditched the idea. It would be interesting to see how the girl would fare. Vegeta smirked and flew off, barely catching her next words.
"And my name," the blue-eyed girl continued, "is Videl."
Sage's Notes: YES—fear the evil cliffhanger! Hey, Ann's one
of the authors, what did you expect? Well, it's just getting cranking,
so hold onto your hats people 'cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride. As this
is the first author's notes section at the end of the first real
chapter, I feel something special should be done…I know! How about I get
chapter 13 of "It's a Start" out? Oh, wait, I uploaded that last night…
dangit. Ok, How about I just write some more angsty stuff for this next
chapter? Sounds good to me.
Ann's Notes: Trust me people, whatever you think is going to happen—it's going to happen in a way you'd never expect. And tears will flow, Sage's evil writing and my evil ideas would make you WEEP. Anyway, hooraaahh!! First chapter out! As yes, and you might notice the "Evil Counter" at the end of this page. It's a counter for how many "evil" remarks we get in the reviews, huahahaha, hopefully Evil Counter-chan won't explode after just a few chapters! More angsty stuff in the next chapter, yep, yep, sounds very good to me. (Can you tell where my writing ends and hers start? And where hers end and mine start? ::evil grin::: )
Evil Counter : 1 (we actually got a "evil" remark for the prologue. It was in the 10 reviews lost when we uploaded the fic under this joint account)