Dragon Ball Z: Dynasty
By Feraligreater328
Chapter 51: Epilogue
In a GalacTV broadcast station...
Faline Phars put on a beaming smile as the camera started rolling, opening her broadcast with a usual flair. "Hello GalacTV nation! I'm your host, Faline Phars! Now let's get right into the news!"
Phars put her packet of papers down and began to speak. "It has been nearly 5 months since the fall of King Cold. And with the frigid tyrant long put on ice, the universe as a whole seems to be rebuilding. Crimes rates are reported to be on a slight up-rise, but the sense of freedom among the masses of our fair universe has reached an even greater high!"
She reached under her desk, pulling out a mug of coffee and taking a long sip. "The future is looking bright people. The tyrants are gone, now we just need to work together to pressure the Galactic Patrol to do a better job of doing their job. Always remember, your voice matters! If we all work together to demand a better quality of life, then the Galactic King will be forced to act!"
She set her mug down. "And... if he will not act, then we as a people can always find a better ruler to replace him~"
From behind the camera, Phars's producer spoke up. "A question coming in from the West Galaxy, Faline. While it true that King Cold and Frieza both appear to be gone for good, there is the matter of the other Prince. In your humble opinion, should the people of the universe fear retaliation from an as of yet unseen threat?"
Faline flinched, nearly choking on her coffee. "N-No. I do not think so. In my excursions to the Southern Galaxy...the other prince has all but faded from the public eye. I... I do not think that anyone has to worry about any measure of revenge from him..."
The producer responded. "A very reassuring answer."
She nodded. "I-Indeed. Now...over to Melissa for the weather! Melissa?"
Somewhere in the Western Galaxy...
In an empty part of western space, a massive interstellar galleon loomed in the hidden haven of an asteroid field. Around this ship, the wrecked remains of several Galactic Patrol ships floated lifelessly. The crew of this ship hooted and hollered, scouring the vessels for parts and treasure, enjoying their haul. Meanwhile, on the deck of the ship, and older gentleman watched on.
On the man's hip, a communication device rang. He picked it up and answered it, seeing a teal skinned man with an orange mohawk and an orange beard on the other end. The older gentlemen spoke with a gruff, ragged voice. "Is your boss done twiddling his thumbs?"
The man on the other end snarled. "You will address the Master with due respect, Namekian."
The older man snarled back. "Stick that attitude up your ass or the deal is off. You and your Heran ilk can pull this job on your own."
The Heran sneered. The old Namekian sneered back. Finally, the Heran relented. "Yes. My Master is ready. Bring your army."
Without a word, the older Namekian closed his communicator and then marched his way into the ship. He walked down the corridors until coming upon the entrance to the Captain's Quarters. He opened the door, not bothering to knock, and found his "leader" sitting slack in his throne, watching the GalacTV news with a wicked smirk on his face. The older Namekian marched up. "If you have time to watch this garbage, then you should be out there commanding your men!"
The younger fellow in the chair chuckled. "Come on, old friend. Don't be sour. This newscast is actually pretty damn exciting~!"
The old Namekian rolled his eyes as his younger counterpart got up. The brash captain walked across the room, dressing himself up as he spoke. "She's right, ya know? Freedom is in the air! King Cold is dead and every person in the universe has never been freer to make their moves! The big fish is dead! Now...all of the sharks are going to rush in to eat its corpse~"
The elder groaned as his young charge went on. "That's great and all. But I feel the need to remind you that we have moves we could be making instead of watching TV. Our allies within the People of Hera, the..."
He spoke with a sarcastic growl, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous sounding name. "The Galaxy Soldiers...are ready to go. So, we should start making our way into the Core Galaxy to meet them."
The Captain chuckled, tapping his finger against the electronic piece on his left eye. "Right right. Shouldn't keep ol' Jackie-boy waiting too long. Besides...I'm ready to rampage again~"
On an advanced planet in the Northern Galaxy...
An elderly crone screamed at the top of his lungs, letting his frustration be known to every worker on the manufacturing floor below. "Damn it! Damn it all! I can't believe that he died! And in the middle of his order being filled out too! However shall we be paid now?!"
He slammed the tip of his cane onto the metal grating and made it dent inward. "So many resources wasted on so many good weapons! And King Cold has the absolute gall to be killed?!"
"Calm yourself, Kochin."
The crone turned and began to rant at the unseen source of the voice. "But sir! What will we do with these weapons now?! There is no other customer with a deep enough pocketbook to pay us for them!"
The sound of water bubbly erupted out, and then the deeper voice spoke again. "You are correct. However, I have been pondering our options. And, I have come to the conclusion that the cost of the weapons will not be a factor we have to consider...so long as the weapons are put to use in a productive way."
Kochin smiled. "Oh, I see. So, you are saying we use these wasted resources to gather new ones? Hmm?"
"Indeed Kochin. Indeed."
On a planet in the Southern Galaxy...
Cranberry and his pet frog/brother Raspberry sat in a dank, back-alley office waiting for a meeting to secure Cranberry his new job. With the fall of the Cold Force, the brothers were both out of work and needed to find some way to make ends meet. And so, with a Galactic Patrol order out to arrest any members of the once mighty military force on sight, Cranberry had decided to seek out gainful employment as a petty thug for one of the universe's biggest loan sharks.
The door to the back room opened up and a petite woman with massive, thick, round glasses stepped out. "Boss Gryll will see you now."
Cranberry was ushered into a back room, filled wall-to-wall with various goons, and one large gentleman sitting at a desk in the back, reading a newspaper. He looked up from his paper and saw the fish tank in Cranberry's hands. "Who the hell told you that you could bring a damned pet into my establishment?"
Cranberry flinched. "S-Sorry, B-Boss Gryll. He's my...uh...brother..."
Gryll looked down at the frog and then at Cranberry, and then he chuckled. "You Cold Forcers...the big man dies and suddenly all of you weirdos want ol' Gryll to hand you work. Eh?"
The massive shark-man slammed his fist on the table. "Fine! You can join my gang, Frogberry. But you'd best work your ass off to earn your keep!"
Cranberry receded into his chair. "Y-Yes sir, Boss Gryll. Of course, sir."
Finally, on the ruins of Planet Cold...
On the busted ruins of the once mighty Planet Cold, things had degraded quite a bit since the four Saiyans had toppled the wicked King and his evil regime. While the universe as a whole was thankful that King Cold and his foul influence was gone, the people of Planet Cold were a different story.
The remainder of the lower class had no problem to adjusting to a life without King Cold's governance. With so little to lose, they were actually able to pull themselves up from the muck that was once their lives and start fresh and new. The upper class, meanwhile, lost everything. And, as a result, and much different type of war began to play out in the streets of the once proud empirical city.
On the streets, an old woman walked by with her bag of groceries. This walk, however, was interrupted as one of King Cold's former counts leapt from the shadows and shoved the woman to the ground. He pulled an ornate laser pistol from his coat and shouted. "Money! Now! Give it to me you old, gutter-scum, piece of garbage!"
The woman tried to stand. "P-Please...I have no money. Please don't-"
He kicked her in the side, sending her tumbling. "If you have no wealth, you're useless! Die!"
"ArrĂȘter! Cease zis wretched be'avior at once and bow your 'eads!"
The old woman and the former noble both turned to see a teal-skinned, blonde fellow wearing a rather unique take on the armor of an empire soldier: purple spandex with a green, asymmetric breast plate. The noble turned to the person and aimed his gun. "Who do you think you are?! Haven't you heard? King Cold is dead! You people have no power anymore!"
The man responded calmly. "Zink zis over, mon amie."
The noble pulled the trigger and fired a bolt directly at the soldier. In response, the soldier simply smacked the laser bolt into a nearby pile of rubble. The noble gasped, but was immediately seized from behind by two very large hands. These hands lifted him off the ground, pressing their thumbs into his eyes, and squeezed until a crack and a wet splatter rang out and his pitiable screaming stopped.
This new assailant, a large green hulk with long black hair, chuckle. "What a punk!"
He reached down to the bag of groceries on the ground and pulled out an onion, taking a hearty bite. "This planet has gone to shit, huh Sauza?"
A brown, lizard-like creature walked up, picking up the bag and rifling through it. "Dore's right! Look at the state of this place!"
Sauza flipped his hair from his face and sighed. "Quiet yourself, Neiz. You as well, Dore. And stop eating zat old crone's groceries! Return zem to her so zat she may remove 'erself from 'is paz!"
Dore rolled his eyes as he finished the onion. Neiz sighed and reached into his breast plate, pulling out a packet of fruit gummies and dropping them into the bag. "Here you go, lady! I even replaced the food that Dore ate! Now get lost!"
Confused and scared, the old woman did as she was told. She took her bag and fled into a nearby alleyway. As she did, however, she heard those three strange men address their boss. She tried to continue to walk, but curiosity got the better of her. She turned around to see if she could sneak a look at this 'boss'. And, while she did not get to see his face, she was shocked at the brief flash of a purple tail waving back and forth across the ground.
Inside the ruins of Castle Cold...
Cherry and Mato both sat around a fire that they had made, trying to huddle together for warmth. Neither of the hapless soldiers had enjoyed a comfortable night's sleep since the empire had fallen. Not that any of that was their fault with the people they were forced to hang around with.
Cherry grabbed a piece of a once luxurious tapestry and threw it into the waning flames, causing them to flare up again. This, however, drew the ire of one particular housemate. Kikono stepped forward and started to scold. "Soldier! How dare you burn the King's prized possessions?! How dare-"
Cherry held up her hand. "First off, my name isn't soldier. It's Cherry. Second off, shut the hell up Kikono, or I'll throw your ass into the fire next!"
Kikono flinched. "H-How dare you! I am King Cold's most loyal servant, and-"
Cherry snapped back. "King Cold is dead. And your robes smell like stale urine. Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you."
Mato flinched, rubbing his hand over his broken leg. "Geez Cherry. You're in a bad mood, huh?"
Cherry buried her face in her knees. "I'm hungry. I just wanna go home and eat some of my Mom's home cooking..."
Mato frowned and reached over, giving Cherry a calming back rub. This tender moment, however, was interrupted by another fight breaking out between the other too. "Take that morbid crap down! I'm tired of looking at it!"
A large pile of rubble crashed over as Bonyu started to get angry again. "You're wasting time with that nonsense when you could be helping to find food! What is the matter with you?!"
On the other side of the argument, a despondent and teary-eyed Ginyu shouted back at Bonyu. "Mind your own damn business, traitor! Why don't you go back to answering phones or whatever it is you were doing?!"
Bonyu sneered. "I'd rather be answering phones than watching this weird-ass crap! You're worshipping a broken picture of two dead men! I'd almost prefer you going back to striking inane poses!"
Ginyu sounded broken. "What could you find wrong with honoring our fallen lords?!"
Bonyu shouted back. "You're bowing to their picture like it's going to bring them back! You're losing it Ginyu! Going nuts! And it's freaking the rest of us out!"
Ginyu stood. "Then why does no one else complain like you do?!"
Cherry, Mato, and even Kikono were all staying out of this one. They did not want to get between the tempers of the legendary Ginyu Force Captain and the legendary Call Center Captain. As they continued to be silent, Ginyu and Bonyu eventually came to blows, locking up and trying to wrestle one another to the ground.
This embarrassing display, however, was quickly broken up by the voice of an older woman. "Put an end to this miserable display at once! Can you two not see that you are in the presence of a Young Lord?!"
Ginyu and Bonyu both stopped and glanced toward the crumbled entrance to the throne room. Their pupils shrank. Cherry, Mato, and Kikono were all shocked totally speechless. And all five of them immediately kneeled at the sight of the person standing before them.
This person stepped forward, past the five transient soldiers. His tail dragged on the ground behind him as he stared at the shrine Ginyu had made to Frieza and Cold, his steely cold gaze staring at each of the dead tyrants.
Sauza stood to the side, giving his boss a moment, only moving when he scouter began to chirp at him. The soldier nodded and stepped forward, placing his hand over his chest. "My Lord. We 'ave received an encoded message from Faline Phars. She zanks for your concern about 'er well-being. She is fine and looks forward to sitting down and 'aving another private discussion with you."
"Hm."
Sauza continued. "And she insists zat she pay for ze next meal."
After Sauza finished, Ginyu could finally hold his tongue no longer. He rocketed to his feet and stepped up to the Young Lord in front of him. "S-Sir! I am so sorry for my inability to prevent the demise of your father and brother! P-Please! I know where those filthy monkeys are hiding! I can lead them to you so that you may avenge-"
The Young Lord, seemingly ignoring Ginyu, began to glow at the eyes and fired two sets of energy beams towards the portrait. One set of beams burning through King Cold's face and the second set burned through Frieza's. Ginyu gasped and fell backward, landing on his ass.
The others did little more than flinch, staying supplanted at this person's feet. The old woman, a blue alien with pink hair, chuckled. "I see that you have come to a decision Cooler? Have you finally decided how you'll act upon Frieza and Cold's deaths?"
Cooler cracked his neck, stepping forward and surprising everyone by reaching down and offering Ginyu a hand to stand up with. Ginyu took the hand and stepped aside as Cooler continued to walk forward. The brother of Frieza and son of Cold stood where his father's throne once stood and looked through the broken ceiling to the sky above. "Yes Berryblue...I think I have..."
Cooler smiled a very...unreadable smile. "Allowing oneself to be mired in the past halts forward momentum. So... I do believe that we will respond to this loss by advancing in a new direction."
NEXT TIME, IN CHAPTER 52, THE TRUNKS SAGA BEGINS!
