Disclaimer: Chapter One. Go there.

Yeah, the dream's not over, by the way; just the most disturbing/wrong/maybe stupid part. Di-ffi-cult stuff. At least it was scary. Anyway, I suppose it wouldn't do any damage to say that the woman sorta is Jin, but since he knows that she was wearing a ring to hide her looks, he didn't really put a face or name on her.
Piccolo was reluctant to move from the ledge, but he knew that it would be searched soon enough and lept down. As he touched ground, a sort of movement, like that of a solid object, caught his attention. He finally remembered the knife, still stuck in his ribs, and tugged at it to pull it out. When it finally gave way, he was surprised at the lack of blood loss from the wound. Trying to peer inside it, it looked as if it was immediately cauterized as soon as the blade hit. She must have used her ki when she stabbed me, he thought.
It seemed that the whole organ that was hit, which, relative to the position, must of been his heart, had been punctured and burned away. Even so, he didn't feel all that bad, past the pang of regret he had for what caused it. It went so wrong, so fast, he thought, How could this have happened? Through all my meditation, is my willpower still that inept?
He covered the hole with the cowl of his cape and dodged off into the gardens. He tried to act as nonchalant as he could, but as the minutes passed, the people around him were getting news of the murder, and the air around him gained hostility quickly, so he shifted off into a grove and sat below a tree, trying to give his mind enough space to think.
What should I do now? Probably... I should leave before I am found. I imagine that it wouldn't be too difficult to find out that it was me. His thoughts continued thus until a firm and steady word came from above him. "You. You're a Namekku-sei-jin, aren't you?"
He looked up to see a tall, muscled man, accoutered in an armor that put Piccolo in the mind of something between a samurai and a Roman soldier. Though the plates looked heavy and complicated, they seemed to be more decorative than practical, and his long hair looked more clean than what a warrior would normally be seen in. "Are you Kentorion-sama?"
"I am. You must not be from these parts to not have that knowledge all ready." His eyes narrowed and he knelt down before Piccolo, glaring with a searing stare. "I suppose that you have heard of my bride's recent demise?"
"I..y-yes I have," Piccolo stuttered out. It wasn't the ireful state of the militant before him that made him so abashed, but the event he reminded him. As much as he wanted to indulge in denial and forget it, it proved that no one else would allow such a luxury.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" The solid vox sounded, gaining more of an incriminating strain with each syllable.
After a delay, Piccolo finally responded, "More than I would like."
"And what, exactly, is it that you do know? Prey tell."
Piccolo looked the man straight in the eye. "Everything."
Dead air. "I see." Kentorian stood erect and pulled out a sword from his hilt. Though his guard mail might be largely ceremonial, the blade was definitely made for fighting, and the gleam that it shown from the streams of light that came through the treetops made Piccolo squint. The point was aimed at Piccolo's throat. "If you are the killer, then," Kentorian continued, "Are you resigning your fate to my hands? Do you wish to repent that badly?"
"Repent? I suppose you could say that." Piccolo rose as well. "But, to tell the truth, I have no interest in surrendering to the likes of you."
"Nani?!" The soldier's ki flared and he raised his edge high. "You're insolence shall be cut down now, butcher! You shall perish by the hands of the strongest swordsman in the--" He was cut off by Piccolo, who bashed his fist into the armored side.
"You talk too much," he said, now with his back turned to his adversary, "I don't see what she saw in you that would allow herself to change like that, but just because you can best her in combat, do not expect to apply the same with me."
It didn't take much to infuriate the already agitated ex-bridegroom. In no time, he was taking hateful swings at the Namekku-sei-jin. But these swings were slow with all the anger being concentrated in them, and Piccolo dodged them without much bother.
Kentorian took a cruel upward slash that Piccolo narrowly escaped. Surely, if it hit him, he would have been severed in two. But, alternately, he caught Kentorian in a vulnerable state from taking the offensive, and took his call. The very dagger that was stabbed into Piccolo's ribs found way to be buried into Kenturion's own breast. The soldier staggered backwards, shocked that he was dealt such a blow. He fell.
Trailing the moment the metal and leather plates hit the ground, the hole which gaped under the white drape of Piccolo's outfit began to itch and gain the sensation of being... filled. He lifted up the loose cowl to show that, indeed, the wound had somehow healed. Piccolo didn't seem greatly surprised. However, his ambition seemed to be reborn.

Piccolo returned to Earth (or whatever his normal surroundings should be called, considering he didn't think that the place he was previously was Earth), and set off to an old task immediately. First and foremost, he thought, is to get rid of all the roadblocks. This shouldn't be a problem, as long as I don't get them after me en masse, but I can't afford to do it one at a time.
The plan didn't take much to set. He simply made a big deal over some debris in the mountain woods near Son's house, which roused Goku and Goten out, and put Gohan on the phone to get the others.
The conjecture that the detritus was an alien ship seemed to get them up in arms enough to make the method plausible. Before Gohan or any others got there, Piccolo took short work of the child and his long-time arch- rival, decapitating them both with Kentorian's blade in less than a split second. He left Goku's body where it lie and threw the head off about a hundred meters, then quickly buried Goten under the roots of a large tree before hiding himself.
As the others arrived, the scene was nothing short of hilarious to Piccolo. While normally he would feel partially sympathetic to Gohan when put into such a distress, he really had quite a problem of keeping his laughter rising up as he saw the emotional display of horror and anguish Gohan exhibited when he found the topless trunk of his late father. Trunks took little time to wander off in search of his friend, which made him the next victim. He fell down in three or four separate pieces, leaving life in about the same fashion as the last two: saw it too late.
This time it was Vegita in the center of the dispairful caterwaul (not that Kuririn and Yamcha weren't all ready giving their share, but Vegita's own demonstration was, in itself, a high-light of the day). The prince was obviously mustering up every ounce of his willpower and angered lashing to keep himself from weeping over the corpse of his son, which proved to be rather futile.
Gohan actually found his brother's body, which went against Piccolo's intentions, but it didn't really harm the plan. They continued to search the area, hoping to find signs of their Namekku-sei-jin friend or the bastards that offed their allies. How capricious that they're one in the same. Kuririn was next with a slit throat, setting #18 off in her own hysterics. Tenshinhan and Chouzu arrived about then, but they never made it to the rest of the group.
It became undeniable that they would be cut down if they didn't call for more assistance. Gohan ran back to call the last resort: Buu. Piccolo knew that Gohan held off calling him in the first place because if his little girlfriend heard, she would willingly involve herself as well. Vegita was to go back to Capsule Corp. and inform Bulma that she needed to begin the hunt for the Dragonballs again: he didn't get very far. And poor #18 was left all by herself... for a little while.
Gohan came back and soon lost it. Though he was used to intense fighting and even death, the sight of body parts hanging everywhere seemed a bit more than his stomach could handle. Buu didn't take long to get there, and, sure enough, Videl was there, too. She nearly fainted; Buu didn't seem sure that he left his room. Piccolo decided that the charade went long enough at this point and came out from his hiding in the bush. The first thing he did wasn't to acknowledge the teenagers (and blob) with deceit or a threat, but pile up the bodies that he scattered about in one area.
"Piccolo-san! You're all right!" Gohan ran to greet his old trainer, and his gut was sliced open. He toppled backwards. "Piccolo-san... you...?!"
"You bastard!" The girl took into attack quickly.
"Videl, no!"
It took little effort for him to break her neck in half. Buu finally realized that Piccolo was doing mean things and went after him himself. Piccolo rose a hand and blasted him into oblivion. "All that's left," Piccolo muttered, then pointed the sword straight at Gohan.
"W-why...?"
"Somehow, ruling the world seemed to be a priority again." He cut him down.
Piccolo Daimaou always wanted his son to take over the world. He would be proud, Piccolo thought, to see me now.