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Contradicting Mission
Part 21
A group of sixteen waited quietly in the shadows. Had been for only twenty minutes, getting reports over their communicators every thirty second interval. Occationally, they moved to intercept the target.
"He's still moving east on tunnel 3042ED, level thirty two LowerClass sector five."
The group waited in silence, breathing quietly, trying to keep their very ecsence hidden until called apon.
"He's turning left into tunnel 3041EC, same level. Same sector."
Someone in the group swore, another mumbled, "We have to move again?" The slight noise ceased at a sharp crack of the commander's tail, after which he whisper-barked, "Move out."
The group moved like a shadow, following unlit back tunnels and avoiding people. When the commander stopped, so did the others, one murmering to another, "Heng better pay us well for this. I hear this little bastard has already killed over fifty Aeesu-jin." He recieved a cuff on the head, dropping him back into silence.
The commander addressed his squad, "As soon as the target appears, attack. Do not attack until you have personal visual confirmation. Do not retreat. Do not stop until the target is dead."
"Yes, sir!" the squad answered quietly but forcefully. They hunkered down to wait for the next report.
General Kokoschka leaned back from the monitor he sat at, stretching his arms over his head. Furim, eyes heavy from lack of sleep, looked at him from his own terminal, saying, "Henning is insane."
Kokoschka chuckled sleepily, tapping a few buttons to keep up with his task, "What brings on this sudden realization?"
The younger Aeesu-jin tapped at his terminal, going about his job as he spoke, "How can he seriously expect us to work for thirteen hours straight?"
"We were nearing our shift's nine-hour stretch-"
"-and looking forward to a night cap and a bout with my bed-"
"-when we found the boy. I guess Henning thinks that since we found him once, we should monitor him until our men pick him up."
"Yeah, but look at him!" Furim gestured to the screen he was monitoring. Kokoschka leaned back in his seat and looked at the other's terminal. On the screen, they could both see the wandering form of a small Saiya-jin boy, walking down a lone hallway, his tail twirling wildly behind him to keep him upright. His gait was irregular, he walked in zig-zags from one side of the hall to the other, his shoulders occationally brushing against the walls, "I thought we were looking for some special super kid with incredible skill and cunning. That kid looks like he's got brain damage or something. What's all over his clothes?"
Kokoschka looked closer at the image, then leaned back, answering, "Looks like blood to me."
"Blood?"
"Didn't you hear the reports? Got caught up in a huge riot down below the Lower Class levels, killed quiet a few. He must be shell shocked."
"Huhn." Furim responded. The two of them continued to follow the boy's movements on their screens for a moment.
"Ahah," Kokoschka said, "He's heading right into our hands. Get on the communicator and call the waiting team. I'll direct them."
Son Gohan didn't like asking for much. He generally liked being independent, and knowing that somewhere out there someone loved him. All he wanted now was peace of mind. For every little thought, notion, memory, and musing to die where it stood and vanish, leaving him to a pleasant, thoughtless void.
Of coarse, though he asked for so little, he still didn't get it.
Instead, he had lost control of his thought processes altogether, sending him forward and backward in his head like a possessed VCR. Rewind to the past hours, watching his hands sink into cold Aeesu-jin flesh, hearing their last breath erupt from them as life was shoved from their bodies by the force of his attacks.
Stop. Eject.
Instead, his mind would fast-forward-- what would happen when he got back to camp? He was lost again, and this time there was no shining, gentle chi to lead the way. Too addle-brained to reach far enough out to find Sunow, much less remember which direction he had taken. It could be hours. Last time he had been late getting back Bojack had been....displeased. If such a word could be applied to a raving, violently angry man who had thrown him against the wall of his house.
No. Pause. Not the time to think of that. Stop.
But instead his mind fast-forwarded to the farther future, when (if) he made it back to Earth, what would he tell everyone? How could he tell everyone? Even if by some horribly lucky turn of events no one noticed he had been away from Earth for--how many days had it been? Seven? Eight?--quite a while, could he possibly go on as though nothing had happened? He wouldn't be able to not tell his mother. He'd tell Piccolo, too. And he felt Vegita would have a right to know. Would they even believe him? He hardly believed it himself.
Stop!
He froze in his step.
As much as he would have liked to know he had won the battle with his mind, the entire problem had vanished as a new one appeared before him.
An intersection. He didn't know exactly why he had stopped, for he had crossed and stumbled through probably fourty such branchings of the mindless path he had taken. But this one felt different. Screamed danger. Something deep inside, instincts, subconscious, whatever, was yelling that whatever lie ahead would surely be his end.
He hesitated. Took a step backward, his eyes searching ahead. It was a T-shaped intersection, the hall he was currently in stopping abruptly and heading left and right at such an angle he couldn't see anything. Looking behind, he found he was the only person in the halls--his wanderings had led him away from the populated areas.
It screamed ambush.
The quiet, forceful voice in the back of his mind whispered for him to turn around and run, as fast and far as he could. He turned to do so, when he realized the voice telling him to run was the same one that had told him--forced him--to kill those Aeesu-jin back at that bloody massacre. It was the same worming, almost irresistable sense that coiled around his spine and made the hairs on his tail stand on end.
Subconscious, surely it was that. But it was more, for he could almost feel it, see it climbing through his brain. His will to live? It didn't feel directly evil, scratch that, it felt good, right, wise. It felt like it knew the right thing to do, and truely believed he and he alone could do it.
But good things don't kill people, wise things don't replace thought process with mechanical acts of violence.
The voice was out to preserve him, but him alone. Selfish. Spoiled. A sour taste crept across the boy's tounge. He had been spoiled, once. Perhaps still was. He hated it. Who was he to put himself first? He hated that voice. For the moment, loathed it. Abominated it.
In defiance, he walked forward, fighting against the maddening urge to flee. He wouldn't run.
A yell. At first, just one. Loud.
"Attack!!"
Gohan hardly had a chance to register where the sound came as many, incredibly large Aeesu-jin flew from around the corner, their speed incredibly, and their chi suddenly raising to . The boy hadn't felt them, his mind had been too numb to sense chi, just as he had been unable to see exactly where he was going or what he was doing. But now that they were here, their power was almost distracting.
The Aeesu-jin in the lead--so very large, like a truck hurdling forward at reckless speeds--thrust forward his hands as he ran, centering his chi into a bright blue ball and hurdled it at the boy.
Gohan threw himself to the floor just as the blast sailed over his head.
How did they find me? No time, no time! Move!
Using his low angle, he kicked off the ground and rammed his shoulder into the Aeesu-jin just as he was raising his hands to shoot again--this time he wouldn't miss! A wet crack erupted as the giant's ribs shattered inward, punctureing his lungs and heart. He was dead in an instant.
The boy kicked off the body--still standing--and threw his legs over his head, avoiding the sweeping tail of a second Aeesu-jin. The instant the boy's feet hit the ground he dove forward, his mind spinning distractingly.
That blast would have killed me! These aren't Henning's men.....
Twisting like a cork-screw, he dove around an Aeesu-jin, spun, and rammed his fist into the Aeesu-jin's back; it broke through, driving through spine and into warm vitals. Gohan was horrified. The Aeesu-jin was dying.
Oh, kami, kami....... No time! Don't stop!
He ducked under a giant fist, then almost had to double over sideways to avoid a kick. Whipping his tail around his waist to keep it safe, he lost his balance just as an attacker broke through his defenses. The boy wasn't fast enough to dodge, and the Aeesu-jin drove his knee deep into the boy's stomach. Gohan gagged as he tasted bile and blood in the back of his mouth; the attack had taken his breath away and he was desperatly trying to suck air into his constricted body.
The Aeesu-jin who had kneed him clasped his hands together, raised them above his head, then brought them crashing down onto the boy's back. Gohan was pitched face first into the tiles below, cracking his head against the ground so hard stars swam across his vision.
He brought his knees up under him, and shoved off the ground just as a burning blast of chi incinerated the spot he had been laying in.
Landing on his feet again, the boy shouted, "Who are you!?"
The Aeesu-jins pause, looking at the largest amoung them--Gohan saw now that he wore a crimson sash across his chest with large, intricate Aeesu-jin letters written boldly across it. The giant amoung giants stepped forward, reguarding the bodies of his falled companions with indifference. The other Aeesu-jin awaited his order.
"We are Heng's Arms and Legs," the commander said, his hands behind his back, "We are under strict orders from Heng to kill you. I hope you can see how out-numbered you are; if you surrender now we can give you a quick, relatively painless death. Resist....well, you've killed some of our friends. Many of the men would leap at the chance to beat the life out of you."
"Heng," Gohan said with almost-relief. Not Henning. Not a psycopath out to capture him....just a psycopath out to kill him. He couldn't even remember what he had done, really. Heng wanted to kill him? For trying to save the planet? Craziness. Maddness. Lunacy, "How did you find me?"
"You think you're invisible? You were spotted in the Saiya-jin riot below, and it's not hard to keep track of a Saiya-jin boy dressed in blood. You were reported." The commander grinned, "We have people everywhere. Are you going to surrender or not? We don't have all day."
The boy lowered his fighting stance, raising his arms to defend against attacks.
"You made a stupid choice."
The boy looked behind the commander to see that the rest of the squad had gathered together in a tight group, pointed like an arrow, the tip aimed at him. It was actually kind of creepy, like looking into the point of an arrow just before it enters your chest. The boy tightened his already clenched teeth and reached deep down for his last reserve of chi. He had a bad feeling about this.
The commander stepped back, and said, "Kill him."
They attacked as one, flying forward as one body and one mass. Even as Gohan stepped into offensive, it just didn't feel right, as though something was wrong, obvious. Then it struck him. They were attacking head on, charging directly at his front. Trained warriors. Probably decades of expiriance. All attacking from the front. The voice in the back of his mind was shrieking at him, but he couldn't even hear what it was saying.
He charged his chi into his hands and blasted the Aeesu-jin in the front of the attack, then dove forward to meet the rest, leaping into the air and gathering his legs up to his chest, then ramming them downward into the torso of the first Aeesu-jin he was close enough to.
It had been a trick. He saw now, too late, that even as his foot finished its destructive path through the Aeesu-jin's chest, a second Aeesu-jin had been concentrating his chi into his fingers, pin-pointing it to a deady accuracy, aiming at the boy's chest. Lethal.
Desperatly, the Gohan threw his body backward, his legs curling up behind him for momentum. For his efforts, the blast missed its target, missed his whole torso, but drove into his calf instead. Into and through. All the way through. Gohan saw it's path, watched it go straight in one side of his leg and out the other, but at first was unable to comprehend it. It hadn't hurt. It was like a tug below his knees. A nudge. It had happened too fast.
But when he finished his flip and landed on his feet, a sudden shock of pain ran up his calf, his thigh and into his hip. His tail spun around behind him like a propeller, trying to keep him standing as his left leg suddenly gave out from under him. He caught himself on his right leg, pulling him back up to standing.
The enemy was pressing in, confident now that their victim was wounded. Though Gohan would have liked very much to prove he was still very much lethal, his left leg was not responding. He tried to step back out of the way of a flying punch, but his left leg gave out completely, he staggered, fell half-way before catching himself with his hands, straining his one good leg to raise back to standing.
A fist drove into his back, sharp knuckles surely digging deep into his ribs, while a tail whipped across his good leg with burning accuracy, hooking around his ankle after impact, then whipping his foot off the ground. He tried to catch himself on his elbows, but the tail whisked him off the ground completely, swung him in an arc over the Aeesu-jin's heads, and slammed him against the ground with enough force to cave the tiles beneath, sending crumblings into the room below their feet.
Even then the Aeesu-jin's tail did not release his ankle, tearing him up from the ground and cureening him into a wall, then off the wall and into the wall on the other side, then over their heads and against the ground again. After the first two impacts, the myriad old pains cancelled out the new ones, and Gohan hardly felt it when the Aeesu-jin tail finally realeased his ankle, hurdling him through into and through two more walls.
He tried to get to his feet--hell, he would have liked to just sit up--but he didn't have the chance. All of the surviving Aeesu-jin were at him, on top of him, their fists ruthlessly, unmercifully pumping into him with such force that his body was jumping against the ground and blood was pooling up in his mouth, choking him, though his body was unable to breath.
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light. Gohan was only half aware of it, but he was suddenly realized the Aeesu-jin weren't attacking him anymore. He opened his eyes--which he only now realized were closed--and saw that the Aeesu-jin attackers were just standing over him, their heads all turned to look at something out of his view. Painfully, slowly, he managed to raise his head and follow the direction they were looking.
A second group of Aeesu-jin stood at a twenty foot distance. The largest standing in the fore, obviously the leader, wore no sash, no insignia, and no smile. He was as wide as he was tall--very, on both accounts--but under his considerable lumps of flesh, muscle was evident. He looked down-right mean.
"This is official Heng business," the commander said, "Leave the premesis immidiatly."
The round Aeesu-jin pulled back his lips in something that could either be a snear, or a smile, "I'm sorry, but my boss has sent us on our own official business."
The commander narrowed his eyes, "What business is that?"
"Him," he pointed a thick, meaty finger at Gohan, "My boss wants him."
The boy's strength in his neck turned watery, and he was unable to keep his head up enough to see what was going on. He lowered himself back to the floor, souly depending on his hearing to know what was going on.
The commander was talking, "-direct orders to kill him, so you'll have to tell your boss that he's just not getting what he wants. Who is your boss anyway?"
"He's a brilliant man, not an Aeesu-jin. A species called...Tahch-jin."
Gohan squeezed his eyes shut, hoping, wishing he had misheard. Tahch-jin. Henning. Oh, kami, not now.....
"His name," the large stranger continued, "Is Henning."
Completely beyond his control, Gohan groaned quietly. No one heard. He tightened his fingers into a fist. He couldn't just lay here and wait to see which group got to keep him.
"If you are refusing to leave, I'll have to kill you," the commander, stepping to the side so all his men were visible. They were large, formidable, and deadly in looks and, Gohan knew, in reality.
The plump Aeesu-jin chuckled and also stepped aside to show his men, "What you're not noticing is that our number is greater than yours."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Think of it as a warning. Give us the boy."
"You can have him when he's dead."
"Now."
The commander shook his head, "You can't order Heng's men around. This has gone on far enough--prepare to die."
Even at his akward position, Gohan could see the Aeesu-jin standing above him drop into tight-knit fighting stances, even their tails twined behind them in a way that it would be least obstructed. At the commanders, "Go!" the entire group of Aeesu-jin that had survived the attack with Gohan charged forward--and out of the boy's field of vision.
It didn't matter that Gohan couldn't see it, for the battle was short. Henning had taken all precautions, sending thirty men to make sure he got his prize; his best thirty. His strongest. The ones he was most proud of. If they were defeated by Son Gohan....Henning was pretty sure he would give up the chase and blow the planet up under the boy's feet.
Heng's men were fierce, strong, durable, and well trained. They were also few. Still, in a mad rush to avenge his wounded pride, the commander managed to use his last reserves to break through the first line of defense and ram the tip of his tail, like a spear, into the plump Aeesu-jin's chest, through his heart, and out the other side. The last sight he saw before being burned to death from a concentrated chi blast was the sight of the plump Aeesu-jin's face seeming to explode outward with blood, his nose, his mouth, gushing and smelling bad and splattering against the floor.
It was a good sight to die with.
"The commander's dead!" A voice rang out above the shouts of battle and the explotions of chi, "Retreat!"
In a sudden chorus, Heng's men began yelling, "Retreat! Retreat!"
And so they did. Turned tail, gathered their chi, and flew down the hall as fast as they could--their number reduced to four.
Henning's men stood for a moment, out of breath. They had just rebelled against Heng. Heng for kami's sake. Ruler. Master. God.
Leaning over the bloody body of the plump Aeesu-jin one of the men said, "He's dead."
"Never really liked him," another said, "Who's in charge, now?"
"I am, by rank," said a third, tall Aeesu-jin, wirey, solid as a rock, thin as a blade of grass.
A chorus of 'fine-by-me's murmered from the men. It was only now that they turned their heads to look at their target.
Son Gohan was standing, shakily, but in control. He was putting his weight on his right leg, the other useless from the knee down, his fists tight at his sides, knuckles white, eyes narrow. Bloody. Frightening, though harmless.
"Well," the wirey new commander said, crossing his long arms across his slender chest, "Heng's men were kind enough to wear him out. All we have to do now is collect him."
"Heh," a few other Aeesu-jin said. Three of them moved forward, their hands raised in the ready to lay hold of the boy once they were close enough. They moved slowly. Henning had warned them thoroughly before they left to be careful.
Gohan had been prepared. During the fight between Heng and Henning's Aeesu-jin, he had been gathering his chi--whatever was left--for one last strike. He would not be taken without a fight. He released his fists and raised his hands, palms facing out, above his head. The movement hurt his back muscles, and the pain only intensified when he strained his power up his arms, into his hands.
Fast. Have to move fast.
Not waiting for the three closest Aeesu-jin to react, he threw his hands forward, hurdling out as much powe as he could, aiming for a pre-selected target. A flash of light. A startled cry of surprise cut short as a burning white blast passed through the victim's neck, nearly severing his head. One very dead Aeesu-jin.
It certainly caught the other two approaching Aeesu-jin by surprise. They watched, their eyes wide, as their comrad's body sank to the floor, already bloody from the gaping wound. The thump his knees made when he hit the floor brought them from their temporary shock, and they turned rageful eyes toward the boy.
"You little bastard," one of them said spitefully, then lunged, his tail whipping ahead of him to catch Gohan across the face. The boy, not wanting to waste a single ounce of the power he had left, only barely cocked his head to the side, the deadly tail flying harmlessly past--so close he felt the wind behind it brush past his cheek. He brought back his hand, his eyes dialating as he focused his entire attention on the Aeesu-jin flying at him at incredible speed.
Wait for it....
There! Just within reach! Ducking under the Aeesu-jin's flying leap, he rammed his, flat as a blade, into the face of the attacker--right between his eyes. The attacker tried to stop in mid-leap, but was too late, for though his sudden reduction in speed managed to avoid having the boy's entire hand slide right into his brain, the impact was too much; his skull cracked, thick, pinkish substance seeped from his ears, and his last leg of momentum sent his body skidding across the floor with no hope of ever getting back up to his feet.
Gohan lunged at a third Aeesu-jin, then suddenly vanished as he used his last weapon, speed, to leap into the air--twisting his limp left leg while he was at it--and twin his arm around his opponent's neck. Still holding tightly, he jerked his body away from the Aeesu-jin, and a loud, wet snap erupted.
The third Aeesu-jin fell, his head twisted backward at a horribly unproportionate angle.
Gohan landed on his one good leg, almost staggering backward as darkness enveloped his peripheral sight. He felt his blood rushing down his calf, into his boots. Sticky and warm. He was loosing alot. Too much. He smelled it everywhere, how could he have this much blood? His mind was staggering as much as his body, and he found himself incapable of thinking through a rational escape plan. He was limited to tunnel vision, like looking through the twin barrels of a gun. He had to turn his entire head to look at the rest of his enemies.
He was surrounded. They stood on every side of him in a circle, just waiting for him to move again. Ready. Their muscles were tense.
The boy wanted to run. To let the last remaining adrenaline in him to explode in sudden, newfound power, and run far away from them, leaving them in his dust.
But when he tried to bolt, his left leg stayed where it was. He had no feeling in it, and when he tried to jump over the attackers, it dragged behind him, stumbling him. He started to fall, and they were suddenly upon him. A hard, sharp knee slammed directly between his shoulderblades, following him down. When he hit the ground chest first, the knee drove in sharper, almost snapping his spine.
Two strong, large hands closed around his wrists, twisting his arms behind him, pinning them to the small of his back. He tried to kick his legs, but a sinewy tail twined around them, pinning his knees and ankles together. He couldn't move. He tried moving his head, but there was a foot pressing down on it, smashing his nose against the floor. Left with nothing else to do, he started screaming, loud and hard. Screaming his frustration, his fear, his helplessness, his voice carrying far down the halls.
A sharp fist against the back of his head ceased his noise, and the darkness gobbling up the sides of his vision closed in around him, and then even the darkness was gone. A total loss of feeling crept up his body as someone stepped on his tail.
Unable to stand anymore, the boy sank into unconsciousness.
**
"What's so important that you have to interupt me in my nearing moment of glory?" Henning's voice rang down an empty corridor.
Joru released his brother's arm once the door behind them hissed shut, "Henning, I think we should have our men kill Son Gohan on sight."
The other blinked in surprise, "You've been saying that alot lately, and I thought we both agreed that repetition is a source of evil, as well as a waist of time. And here you are, forcing me to answer, aggravatingly redundant, no. I have to deal death to the boy. Me and no one else."
"Sir!" A voice barked.
Joru turned his head, and the sight stopped his breath in his throat.
There were many Aeesu-jin, Joru didn't count them, one a prisoner, for he was being forcefully led by two other Aeesu-jin. Joru didn't look at them, either. He was looking at the largest Aeesu-jin, who walked in the fore-front of the group. And before him, walked Son Gohan.
The boy looked half dead. His arms were pinned behind his back by the Aeesu-jin behind him, who had his other hand on the boy's shoulder--having to steady and lead him more than restrain him. The youth's eyes were partly closed, as though he were unaware, or sleepwalking, his head was slightly tilted to a side. He was caked with blood. It was half-dried and crispy on parts of him, other places it ran wet and sticky, down from under his hair, along his temple, under his jaw. His gi was dark with it, maroon and dark red and in some places purple.
Aeesu-jin blood, some of it surely had to be. But his as well, red as rubies.
Horrified, Joru made his eyes look at the floor. It was too late, though. The image was burned on the insides of his eyelids. It just didn't look right, seeing such a small boy in such a situation, bloody and hurt, staggering and limping. Didn't children belong in safe, clean playgrounds? Weren't they supposed to joyfully chase eachother back and forth across a green field until their mothers called them in to wash their hands and eat supper?
The Tahch-jin cast his eyes upward, then down again. That boy wasn't. No safe playground for him. No games of chase. No green field. No washing his hands, no mother, no supper. He had lots of blood, plenty of that, and he had a bleak future. He was so small. Standing at full height he wouldn't even reach up to Joru's chin. Helpless.
Hard to belive this was the same boy who had cause such incredibly frightful damage to so many Aeesu-jin--all very dead now--just days ago. Joru could hardly believe he had been scared of this boy; this small, bloody, dirty, pitiful boy.
But when Henning's eyes beheld this same, disheveled, half-conscious youth, his face beamed, his lips curled back in a smile, and he clapped his hands together twice saying, "Ho! That was quicker than I thought!"
He left Joru's side with half a dignified walk, and half a gleeful prance. He approached the group of Aeesu-jin, his eyes never leaving the frail form of the boy they led before them.
When Henning came into Gohan's view, life seemed to spring back to his eyes, fierce and firey, though subdued with pain. Fear, confusion, anger. The Tahch-jin grinned widely, delicious.
"You've given us quite a chase, Son Gohan," Henning said, crossing his arms and tilting his head at the same angle as the boy's, "Do you hear me?"
The boy, unable to manage a better reply, narrowed his eyes and pulled back his lips to show two rows of sharp teeth.
"Answer Henning-sama when he asked you something," the Aeesu-jin holding Gohan's wrists ordered, grabbing a handful of the boy's raven hair, forcing him to raise his head and look up.
Henning 'tsk'ed when his eyes landed on the long scar on the boy's cheek, "That's a nasty scrape." He raised his hand and gently rested his white fingertips against the boy's face, sliding them along the injury. In horror and revulsion, the boy tried to pull away, but the Aeesu-jin tightened his grip on his hair.
There was an absolute moment of silence, during which Gohan's heart sank into his kidneys, as the Tahch-jin pressed his palm against the boy's cheek and closed his eyes. The smooth skin, trembling under his touch, was everything he could have hoped for. Oh how this boy's spirit gleamed with life. Absolutely stunning. Now, Henning wanted to kill him now.
His hand slid from the boy's face to his neck. Henning could envision it, closing his long, white fingers around that thin throat. Feeling every emotion, every thought as it passed through the boy, until slowly the blood stopped flowing to his brain, and panic then death sank in.
With a desperate summoning of power, Gohan tore his hand's free of the Aeesu-jin's grip and lunged, gathering what little chi he had left. If he could, he was going to kill Henning. Another number on his list, but to hell with that. This man had to die.
He didn't make it.
An Aeesu-jin tail crashed down on his back, sending him to the floor. He tried to push himself up and attack, but a giant, knobby fist drove into him, right between his shoulderblades. A wave of pain ran down his spine, for a second he lost feeling in his legs. He clawed at the ground, trying to scramble away from his attackers. An Aeesu-jin, one of the largest of the group, put his foot on the small of his back putting his weight down.
Gohan lost his air, but was unable to inhale. He struggled, but there were colorful little movements lurking in his peripheral vision, distracting him. He couldn't focus on what he was doing. On the situation at hand. Just as darkness was enveloping him, the pressure on his back let up, he gasped raggedly, his whole body heaving as he coughed. Though his teeth were tightly pressed together, flecks of red escaped his mouth and splattered against the tiled floor.
He was pinned to the floor, his arms spread out at each side of him, large, strong, sharp hands pinning his upper arms and elbows, other hands on his wrists. His ankles, too. So many people were holding him down, their grips so tight they hurt, their wicked fingernails digging into his skin. He couldn't see, his eyes were closed and refusing to open. He was breathing noisily, little, "Huhn....huhn....huhn...." sounds escaping him. Sounds of pain. Fear. This just couldn't be happening to him.
Henning stood tall, straightened his coat, then kicked the boy in the ribs.
"Ahngnn....," Gohan groaned as pain washed up his body, he couldn't breath again; his body was constricting against the floor, but he was unable to curl up. He wanted so badly just to gather his knees against his chest, to encourage his body to stiffle the pain and breath. Just breath. That was all he wanted.
Henning circled the pinned boy, watching his thin back rise and fall as he gasped for air.
"Brother," Joru said almost pleasingly, "We really should just....kill him now. I mean, there's no use taking unneccesary risks...."
Henning, now in control of his notions, looked at his sibling, his eyes glittering, and he said, "You lust for this boy's blood? Goodness, Joru dear, you surprise me more every day. Well, I don't want to kill this healthy young specimen just yet, but if you want to see him dead so quickly, you're welcome to do it."
Joru tried to raise the courage to say, "Maybe I will," but his eyes went down to the small shape of the boy, spread out on the floor like a rug, bloody and breathing heavy, small pained sounds escaping him with each breath. He looked tiny, fragile. His skin looked so pale against his black hair, interupted by the shocking red streaks of blood that ran the length of his body. The Tahch-jin knew he would never be able to kill this boy, even to rescue him from a fate worse than death.
"Didn't think so," Henning said, smiling, "Besides, he'll behave. Won't you, Gohan?"
A sound that reminded Joru frightfully of a snarl was the only answer the boy emited, reminding the gentler Tahch-jin that though the boy looked small, he was as feral as a wild animal, dangerious. But, oh kami, he was also doomed.
To be continued......