A/N: well I did finally get this chapter out. It has been awhile but psychotic English teachers have prevented me from having any form of a normal life. Due to a 'surprise' book report, and a package of myths, and a "birthday sleepover" I have had barely enough time to sleep. Also, my Internet has been down for quite a while, due to the fact that my dog chewed through my Ethernet cable. I have Internet on one computer and alas, it does not allow me into my ff account. Moraine Damrodred today does my disclaimer. (Who coincidently comes from the same book as Bayle)
Moraine: * sigh * Min Farshaw does not own DBZ or it's characters. She does own a pin in the shape of a red eagle and a lot of homework, and a shoulder bag that should be burned. Thank you.
::thoughts:: (italics don't seem to work)
Chapter 3: It's all in your head
About 100 feet in the air a small misshapen lump of a creature was flying through the clouds. It was puce, and looked like a deformed bat. It stretched its pathetic wings and beat the misty air with another labored stroke. Another of its kind came up to meet it. This one was larger, and older, with a dark red, almost black skin.
They conversed about what a horrible place the planet was and how much nicer everything would be if their makers had equipped them with proper wings or even a jetpack. They then briefly considered what the world would be like if all the people in it disappeared. Fortunately before ether one could complete this thought, they were struck by an errant Bowing 747.
Videl Satan struggled in the air. Her burden was getting heavier. She was not sure how he had managed it. But Son Gohan had gained at least 10 pounds in midair.
The wind was cold and refreshing bordering on biting. Not that this would have mattered much to Videl as she felt like her arms were going to fall off at any second. Gohan, like a lump did nothing to remedy this. He still broke out in to sobs occasionally, but this was starting to happen less and less of late. He had also stopped responding to her voice. The last time he had uttered anything intelligible was when they were nearly hit by an airplane. Breaking through a bank of fluffy, freezing clouds, she shifted his weight again.
Squinting ahead, she could see her goal, a thin white line in the distance. Picking up her speed a little she tried to wriggle some feeling into her numb dead arms. Gohan groaned slightly and put a little less power to their assent. Videl suddenly whished that she had taken the time to de-capsulate her jet copter on the ground. :: No chance of that now videl. But the air is way too thin up here, it wouldn't fly anyway:: She thought, and sighed, and continued to move towards her goal.
" I was eleven when my mother died" Videl said quietly, surprising herself. " She had a cancer. They told me everything would be okay but they lied. I could tell every day I saw her. She was wasting away. After she died we fell apart, my dad and me. He immersed himself in his training and I would just take off, walking around the neighborhood."
She smiled bitterly to herself. " Once I made it all the way to the city center. I saw this man running out of a jewelry store with a bag. He tripped over me and hit his head on the pavement. He was knocked out. His accomplices got away with most of the jewelry, but the cops came in time to catch the guy that tripped. I remember how proud I was of myself, that I had caught myself a robber. The cops drove me home, and gave me a little plastic police badge. I still have it." Videl felt tears running down her face. Tears were evident on Gohan's as well.
" I thought he would be proud of me. I had a bruise on my ribs and my little plastic badge, and a robber behind bars. But daddy was to obsessive with his grief. He threw himself into training so I did too. That's when I got determined for him to notice me. Then the cell games came." Gohan gave a little involuntary shudder. " His ego expanded exponentially after that. I became a trophy piece, his little sweet pea, which wanted to be just like her daddy. That was a lie. I wanted to be better than him, use my power to do something good."
" At the age of thirteen I joined the police academy. At 15 I started to freelance with the police force. Still, I was ignored, third on his list, first and second being devoted to him and his ego, now the size of the polar ice cap, His emotions as cold"
She felt herself loosing altitude and speed. The effect of pouring her heart out was to weaken her physically and emotionally. As the last words escaped her mouth she suddenly felt so tired. They began to loose altitude, sagging until every minute kept used to stay aloft cost her what seemed like an hour's worth of energy. As her vision began to blur videl shut her eyes and lost her struggle wit h gravity.
Down and down they plummeted, falling, wind rushing past their ears until some thing large and green rose up to meet them
There was darkness.
****
In a very high place, somewhere far above the clouds, lay an island.
It was perfectly round, and covered in a white tile. Palms marched in two straight lines straddling a white tile boulevard, which led to a door. If that door was opened and some exploring was embarked upon, you would find a short green man, and a chubby black genie. In the room would be a perfectly round globe, decorated with the most realistic continents and cloud patterns. Closer inspection would revel that the clouds were moving displaying the weather patterns for the globe, and tiny waves lapped in the miniature seas. Great sprawling cities and small quaint towns could be picked out. Down in those cities, if you looked closely were hundreds of buildings, and tiny black top rivers with minute cars flashing in the sun. It was, in a word breathtaking.
Observing this globe was a small green man. Worried lines crossed the God's face. He was pacing anxiously across the room, biting his lower lip, occasionally glancing at the masterpiece that graced the room's center. Now most people would ask: Why would a God be worried? They after all have all the power, so in theory, nothing can hurt them.
Well this god had a lot on his young mind. There was something wrong with his precious blue green planet. Crime had doubled overnight. Mass depression plagued certain parts of Satan city. America had declared war on a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Hysteria had broken out in France, and in one small Indian town, every one refused to step out of their front door because of a nameless terror that pursued them. Canadians were being rude to one another! Downright discourteous!
Dende frowned. He wasn't sure why Canada's plight bothered him so much. Maybe it was because it was one of the oddest. Americans seemed to want to declare war every few months, Hysteria could be explained, even In India, Some strange beast could have escaped. But a plague of Discourtesy? That was downright bizarre. That was what made him pay more attention to the others.
Mr. Popo was thinking along similar lines, but to a different purpose. He was old, older than the "greenie" Of a god standing before him. He had seen a few things, been around the block a few times. He remembered an old legend he had heard when he was young. No more than a campfire story to frighten the youngsters, but it had stuck with him all his long years. He opened his red-rimmed mouth to tell Dende of the ledged when he was very suddenly, and heavily interrupted.
The Immortals felt the lookout tremble slightly as three large bodies seemed to fall form the sky onto it. There was a familiar but rasping cry.
"Dende! Get out here quickly!" Dende and Mr. PoPo rushed out to see what disaster had now unfolded. None other than our green friend Piccolo was just standing up amid a tangle of two bodies. His shoulder was badly injured, and his shirt torn. He winced and moved the shoulder tenderly. Upon seeing this Dende rushed up to give Piccolo some of his healing, until he saw what he had brought.
Videl was sprawled out on the ground, her skin lack, and a bump on her head. She was in a very deep slumber, but breathing still came as if labored. Dende rushed to her side and began examining her limp form.
" Heat Exhaustion." He said. " Where did you find her Piccolo?" Dende asked as he began to work his healing magic on the girl. The bruise on her head began to fade, and breathing came more easily, but she still remained in a deep sleep. " Get her some water and a bed," He instructed, moving on to his second patient.
Son Gohan had his eyes closed as if in extreme pain, and tears leaked from under his eyelids. He was shaking and had not moved from the spot he had been dropped. Dende approached him cautiously.
"Gohan? Can you hear me?" Dende asked quietly. A small head movement that could be taken for a nod answered. " Gohan, What's wrong?" Dende asked again. Gohan curled up into a ball and shuddered more violently. Tentative, Dende placed his green hands on the back of gohan's head. Being a god, he gently probed gohan's mind to see what the matter was. What he found was not what he had expected.
Every bad experience of gohan's life was replaying its self in his head. Each and every death was being experienced as if fresh. Every failure bit like one thousand needles, trampled with one hundred bulls. Sorrow pain and loss were the only memories to be found. Dende could feel tears of sympathy trickling down his cheeks.
"This must be stopped!" the little green god exclaimed. He probed again to seek the source of the memories.
There, in a tiny corner of Gohan's mind was a little glowing knot. It was a deep blue and pulsed with every sob that wracked the demi- sayian's body. Dende reached out ethereal digits and prodded at it. An almost electric shock singed his figurative fingers. "Demon magic!" he hissed under his breath. Further poking untied the knot in his brain. However Gohan's state of mind was not changed. The memories began to lessen and fade, but the teenager was still curled up and sobbing. Dende frowned and looked at the chemistry of the brain as well. Quickly seeing the problem he sent for Mr. PoPo again.
"I need some Lithium tablets." Dende said stretching out his limbs. Noting that there was no sign of Videl, or the former Demon king, "Where are they Popo?" rethinking his question he added " How long was I down there? Dende asked suspiciously.
"Four Hours" Popo said, handing the god a blue bottle labeled 'Lithium'. " I was afraid to move you," He said backing away. Dende stared at the bottle in his hand, and gave it back to Popo.
" See that he gets plenty of rest and two of these a day, I'm going to see Piccolo" Dende said in a whirl of robes. One last glance at his recovering patient and he was gone. Popo Levitated Gohan's body and brought him along behind, wondering what good a highly reactive metal would do for his young friend.
****
In a largish city that most people call 'Washington' and in a curiously pentagon shaped building, There was a council of War. 13 men sat arranged around an oval shaped table. The man at its head had a curious southern accent, graying hair and seemed to have trouble speaking in complete sentences without taking a breath in the middle. In a word, the President Of the United States of America.
"I think…
that the island… has infringed… on our territory… too long!" Said the
long-winded president. Hearty calls of agreement were made. A man lurked in the
shadows of the council. Blood red spilled from his shoulders and a mane of
curly black hair graced his head. Little else of him was seen, but lips,
mouthing the words of the president.
"America will go to war!" The unseen patron of the conference whispered as the other speaker in the room said the same. A rich hearty laugh followed, but was unheard by the war council, deep in their plans.
****
Half way around the globe, Paris was on utter disarray. People screamed and fled, and broke into tears. Quiet French shops were being pillaged, and others were in flames. The French police were trying franticly to try and control the mobs, but they were outnumbered. On top of one very famous tower, made of thousands of tons of steel, two creatures stood, watching in rapt silence.
Both were purple and black, with wild orange manes of hair, which blew freely in the wind. Though naked, neither shivered with the cold breeze that assailed the top of the tower.
" It I beautiful brother, is it not?" Crooned the female one.
" Yes it is glorious" Said the other, fires reflected in his eyes.
Paris Burned.
****
A bit further south, there was a house. It was perfectly normal in every respect, but the inhabitants quivered. Hidden under a table a mother and two children huddled close.
Thump thump thump.
It was closer this time
Thump thump thump
In the dark a child began to cry.
****
"Shove off eh" said a man to another trying to cut line in a grocery store.
" No way man this is my spot, you go get your own " said a second, pushing the first out of the way.
"Am I ever going to get out of this dump? Come on move it or lose it!" yelled another woman in line.
"Screw you lady!" cried another
" How dare you talk to my wife like that!"
"You want a piece of this?"
"Bring it on fatty"
"Oh Yah! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"
" I don want to talk to you Pig dog!" The shoppers at the Safeway gathered round the enraged men. Their wives were already engaged in a full out verbal battle of their own. A Teenager was left un-seen lounging on top of the big plastic sign that held a number 6. He laughed and laughed as the insults flew around the grocery store.
"To bad violence missed out on this shark pit!" exclaimed the odd boy, as the two fighters below him joined in battle.
****
There was a light.
Like the end of the tunnel it was there, calling beckoning to him.
But behind there was darkness, with deformed shapes of old terrors, threatening, begging, and pulling him back in.
He had to get out!
There was a voice, calling his name. The terrors lost power. He surged forward.
Mortal man had never composed music so sweet.
It called to his being his essence. It begged him to come and he needed to go.
But behind, behind were his own demons, of his past, clawing reaching, pulling him
Harsh rasping voices cried horrible things to him.
But the sound still drew him onward, like a gentle magnet, taking him away from the dangers that lurked below, behind.
The sound grew louder, the clawing fiercer, he was trapped in the middle, unable to escape unable to go forward. It was if a wall of glass had dropped between him and the light. He could see it but it was dimmer. Joy faded.
But an unseen warrior, harsh and demanding in its innate presence, battered at the wall dissolved it, became a silver road that he could walk to take away from the terror, but still fear of the unknown lurked ahead. He plowed forward.
The road was slippery, and jagged. Any wrong turn could bring him back to the wall of glass, to them.
There ahead was one final push, he ran and ran with non – existent legs, and burst free to the light.
Brightness blinding him, but not the shining presence he had experienced. A concerned face peaked through the glare to gaze upon him. She was a vision, surely sent to him by the gods. A Voice of pure music, and an ivory complexion, Eyes of blue that could out do the sky. The light dimmed, yet his vision had not left him. She was there, still.
"Gohan?" Music.
"Videl!" he exclaimed and tried to bolt upright out of the bed. Hands kept him down.
"Come on you big Ox, I've had enough of carrying you today," she teased, but her heart was not in it. Gohan was back. Her Gohan :: Since when did I start thinking that?::
"Videl where am I? What happened? Why were you carrying me?" Gohan asked, suddenly aware of his surroundings.
Videl bit her lip. " Do you want the long version or the short?" She said.
" The long version" Gohan said, in defiance of all literary convention.
"Bugger"
****
A/N: well what do you know?
Did you know that if you use American grammar and spelling your whole life, you would eventually save a tree?
( no wonder, American English is so screwed up any way)
I would also like to note that the Bayle domon contest is still on. Moraine comes from the same series as him, for an extra hint (hint: the book series is really long, and I could probably name about 100 characters, though there are more). The prizes remain, but I warn that the cookies are stale. I'll bake fresh if you guess though! Choice of demons is not an option any long though, sorry. I beg of you my kind reader to review! Each and every reviewer fills my heart with joy, and sends me into a Happy dance!