Dragonball: Insurgent

Return of the King

"Love has its place, as does hate. Peace has its place, as does war. Mercy has its place, as do cruelty and revenge."

- Meir Kahane

The majority of their training revolved around sparring with one another. A flat plot of land outside of the camp was used to test the young Saiyan boys in a series of brutal matches between themselves and their instructors. The first day that Olve had arrived here had been spent on this same dusty field. That day, Lord Vegeta had challenged his entire class to fight him at the same time. It had been a short battle. None of the students had even been able to touch Lord Vegeta, and he claimed they never would.

This alone had been enough to motivate Olve to double his training. Besides the seemingly endless drills that his instructors made the boys do, Olve made it a point to practice in private. Until the wee hours of the morning, in the low light of Planet Planet's twin suns, Olve would push his body to the limit with every exercise or drill he could think of. Every nuisance of his technique would be examined. These moments of silence were supposed to be his few hours of solitude.

Or at least they should be. Olve is not the only boy out on the sparring field this late at night. The little orphan boy, Bardock, is also out with him. They had mutually agreed to stay away from one another. As Olve starts a round of push-ups, he can faintly hear Bardock grunting from practicing his own techniques.

"Fool," Olve says to himself as he goes down for another push-up, "A lower-class like him can never surpass an elite like me."

"You wanna run that one by me again punk?!" Bardock yells as he runs by. Beads of sweat are running down the lower class boy's face as he finally reaches Olve's training spot, "Probably shouldn't hide like a little Kerpa rat, muttering to yourself like that."

"Well, I've got no reason to hide anything," Olve smugly tells him, "I'll say it again. You. Will. Never. Beat. Me. I am an Elite, I can trace my line back to Planet Saiya itself. That's less than you can say, Bardock of the Wastes. Bardock, the orphan."

That is enough to get him riled up. Bardock swings at Olve, being much faster than he had anticipated. Olve is only barely able to dodge it before Bardock is on him again. The lower class boy's attacks are savage in nature, his fist more like bludgeons than anything else. Every time Bardock does manage to land a hit, it runs through Olve's arm like a shockwave.

Realizing that they are actually close in strength, Olve spits at Bardock's eye. While the other boy desperately tries to clear his eyes, Olve tackles him. He punches his face a few times before kicking Bardock away with a satisfied grin.

"Next time…you bastard," Bardock yells as Olve walks away laughing, "I'm going to get stronger than you! Mark my words!"

"Scream all you want, but it doesn't change anything," Olve taunts, "In the end, you're still trash to be cleaned up by the Tuffles. Just like your parents."

It begins with a clap of thunder. The earth shakes as a powerful nightmare emerges from its deep slumber. Chaos itself leaks onto the earth, materializing in a spiral of red and black energy. Far from the human cities, in a wasteland inhabited only by corpses and jagged peaks, a castle worthy of God emerges from seemingly nothing. Its spirals extend towards the heavens, challenging the authority of those that dwell above. In defiance of the world built by gods, misshapen spheres form from the obsidian foundations to act as the nest of the usurper. Forests burn and water vanishes into air near this satanic genesis. The sky goes to war with itself, striking the structure with lightning as if to try and represses the cancer growing on the Earth.

Throughout this all, the only sound coming from the fortress is a laugh. High-pitched, almost childlike, this laughter is not of mirth. It, like the castle, is a challenge to those above themselves. Its owner walks towards the balcony of the highest spiral, looking down at his future empire with contempt. Behind him are three ghoulish figures. Their bodies misshapen, twisted by years of abuse in what can only be called hell. These fallen devils have returned. With the final clap of thunder, it is done. The Earth's rightful ruler has returned to claim his birthright from those that had sinned against his father.

Garlic Jr., has returned.

"Again, you have to get the footwork down," Master Roshi tells his new pupil as the child once again attempts to hit him with the sequence of techniques they had been reviewing for the better part of an hour, "But, if you do not control your body you will never be ready for the challenges that lay ahead."

Olve simply nods as he picks himself up from the sand. Dressed in a simple grey uniform and sporting a massive purple turtle shell on his back, the Saiyan child is quite different than when he had begun his training under Roshi three weeks ago. The bruises covering his arms and legs had been healed, replaced with new ones from Roshi's own often near sadistic training regimen. However, the child is healthier to say the least. Launch had seen to making sure that the young Olve was well fed, provided with the energy he would need to rise to the challenge facing the Earth. In many ways, this was an old routine for the former blonde haired bandit. Her blue haired form dots over the boy, and seems to enjoy making Olve blush from time to time from being fussed over. It brings a smile to Roshi's face to see that his aggressive energy had been somewhat redirected towards training, the child having quickly become a glowing example of good health.

Though, this did not translate into combat readiness. Olve charges at Roshi like a boar, fumbling to transition into a high kick. Without so much as raising a hand, Roshi produces an afterimage to take the attack. Ghost like, Roshi reappears behind Olve and strikes at him. The Saiyan silently responds, blocking Roshi's fist with his forearm. The child forces him to back off with a roar, using his superior strength to put Roshi on the defensive. Olve unleashes a flurry of blows against the old man, being met with misses for his effort. Even his monkey tail is used as a weapon, striking with a whip like speed and precision. A bit of Roshi's own beard is cut by a claw like attack from the wild child. His moves are savage in nature, lacking the refinement of the more elite class of fighters on Earth.

He has the power in him, but none of the genius that Goku or Krillin showed in their training, Master Roshi thinks to himself as he snatches the boy's foot from midair and sends the child spinning into the waves with a simple invisible ki wave. Spitting and coughing, the young Saiyan glares at Roshi. Sea water drips off of him, mixing with the sweat he had already worked up during the day. Olve's brown hair comes just above his light blue eyes. Roshi readies himself as his tail telegraphs the child's mood in a way words could not yet. His student charges in again. Instead of attempting to move out of the way, Roshi drops into a low fighting stance as he waits for Olve to reach him.

"Rock," The boy whispers as he brings his fist speeding towards Roshi's chest.

"Not good enough!" Roshi declares, briefly bulking up to his massive full power state.

He sees his opening in the child's footwork just like he warned him. Instead of using one of his legs as an anchor the child elects to spread himself out. This greatly reduces the power of the 'rock' portion of the Jan-Ken, as Roshi demonstrates by bringing his own fist straight into Olve's. This technique is taught to teach the student the basics of attacking. Rock, meant being sturdy. A shock-wave erupts at contact, knocking an unsuspecting Oolong over as he reads on a lawn chair not far from their brawl. The perverted pig man shakes his fist as he brushes off what is likely a porno. Olve lets out a tiny gasp of pain and surprise as he is blown backwards. Unwilling to relent in his attack, Roshi speeds after him at levels that should be impossible for a human of his advanced age. The old man is able to see Olve look up in surprise as he materializes over him.

"Scissors!" Roshi yells, taking two of his fingers and jabbing them into Olve's eyes. This part of the technique is meant to symbolize precision and being opportunistic.

The boy hits the beach hard, only walking away without a broken back thanks in part to his already high power level and the soft sand. Roshi knows that he could have ended it there, but he continues his attack. With an effortless toss, Roshi throws the child straight into the air and follows suit with a leap of his own. High above Kame House, he gathers his energy to finishes his student once and for all.

"Paper!" Roshi yells before slamming his open palm into the stunned boy's chest. Being open, or a blank page. The paper portion of the Jan-Ken is meant to teach focus.

The child becomes a speck of black as he sails over Kame House and crashes into the ocean. With a dissatisfied grunt, Roshi lands and relaxes his body. He walks over to the porch and picks up his pipe to smoke while he waits for Olve to swim back.

"Don't you think that was a bit harsh?" Launch, in her docile blue-haired form, asks while offering the aged master a pint of lemonade. She looks up and shakes her head, "What if he's hurt? I don't remember you sparing with Goku or Krillin when you trained them."

"Eh? That boy will be fine, you should be more worried about me fighting isn't easy for an old man like me," Roshi complain rubbing his shoulders, "If you want to help, you should give me a kiss to help with the pain."

"I just can't believe you still have it in you," Oolong says, returning to his magazine, "Who would have thought you could beat a Saiyan?"

"What do you mean by that? I'm a world champ in case you've forgotten," Roshi says between inhales with his pipe, "At least he can swim now. First time this happened I thought he was going to drown."

"Do you think it'll be enough?" Launch asks, looking out to see if she can see Olve swimming back to them, "He seems a lot weaker than Goku was when he started. Poor dear."

"Oh he's much stronger than Goku was that age. The problem isn't with his power," Master Roshi tells them as he sees Olve get close to Kame House, "He just needs to learn how to use it." He blows a perfect smoke ring and shakes his head, "What we need are more warriors, not savages."

Android 8, or Eighter, is busily going about his daily chores for the day. Gathering firewood might seem mundane, but in the arctic conditions of his northern village it is a necessity. Coming across a fine pine tree, Eighter knocks it over with one punch. With a satisfying crash, Eighter begins the task of dragging the tree towards the home he shares with Suno and her family. The young girl had helped rescue him, along with a younger Goku of course. Watching over her is something that give him purpose. Being so close to the old Muscle Tower makes the Android uneasy, a source of some amusement to the artificial creature. The development of emotions had not been in the original designs of the late Dr. Flappe and Dr. Gero. For a moment he ponders what had inevitably happened to Dr. Gero, but dismisses it as simply an amusing thought. Rumors had sprung up that he had died. It would not have surprised the gentle giant of a robot, Dr. Gero had been quite old.

One thought that does happily occupy his mind is the anticipation of showing Suno his new treasure. In the snow he had fond, of all things, a Dragon Ball. The little orange sphere had caused his friend Goku quite a bit of trouble a few years back, and Eighter is more than happy to keep this one safe in the event that Goku or his friends need it.

His sensors pick something up only a few feet away from him. Something about the source is unnatural, as no one other than Goku has ever registered so much energy. Clutching the pocket that holds the Dragon Ball, Eighter picks up his pace. The tree is forgotten as the energy source, now clearly identified as three creatures on his built-in scouter. Something deep in his circuitry tells Eighter that they are bad news. All the more reason to get back to Suno…

This thought is interrupted by a kick the back of his neck. Warnings begin to flash in his field of vision as his mechanical brain begins to analyze the damage. Had he been able to feel pain, Eighter would have likely screamed from having his abdomen crushed by two fists. Oil begins to leak from the gaping wounds in his stomach like black blood as he tries to initiate some kind of defense protocol.

"You're not very strong, are you?" A flamboyant sounding voice asks him as he is kicked aside, "Shame, shouldn't be picking up Dragon Balls then."
A foot comes crashing down onto Eighter's head, but this time he is ready. With a roar that seems to betray the pacifist, the android manages force himself up with enough power to knock over his attacker. Ignoring his warning systems, Eighter moves to attack the demonic creature that he had stunned. Before he can take a step though, the heat of an energy blast severs his head from his body.

Android Eight only has enough time to look into the glowering face of his attacker before his world disappears in a flash of yellow.

The Earth's Guardian, Kami, awakens with a start. A sickeningly familiar feeling comes over him as he expands his senses throughout his domain. Evil energy has seemingly sprouted up from nowhere, and Kami can already begin to identify who the culprit is. Judging by the feeling in his gut, the perpetrator is an old foe, having returned at an inopportune time to vex to Earth with sinister intent.

"I fear that something terrible has begun," Kami says to the darkness as he moves to observe the progress of his newest pupils.

In the courtyard below him, the five warriors that Kami and Mr. Popo had taken on are busy sparring. Each of them had been given a set of weighted clothing, not unlike the kind Kami gave to Goku almost a decade ago. The main difference being that this set weighed even more than Goku's had, a reflection of the danger that they would face in a year. Every day so far has been spent between sparring matches and exercises designed by Mr. Popo. At first the earthlings had been hesitant, but even the most unruly of them had been brought into line. The explosions of blue and yellow energy erupting from their battle is a clear sign that their strength is steadily increasing.

Kami makes his way down stairs, contemplating what this evil could be. A part of him wishes to contact Piccolo via their bond, but such a connection might be fruitless. Though his other half had decided to join them in their defense of Earth, there is not guarantee that he has repented his evil ways. Bitterly, Kami realizes that it is likely beyond Piccolo's abilities to purge himself of the evil that had birthed him. Goku would be an ideal warrior to send to combat this plight, but I fear that my former pupil may be in need of assistance himself, Kami thinks to himself as he dismisses calling on Goku as well.

"Kami, is there something that you require?" Mr. Popo faithful asks as he steps outside of his palace, "The training is proceeding exceptionally well today."

The humans stop what they are doing, turning towards Kami expectantly. One of the chief concerns of the humans, especially the one called Yamcha, had been that the guardian had not given them any specific training himself. Everything up until this point had been through Mr. Popo. Even standing in front of them is enough to rile up the frustration that threatens to disrupt the training of what could be Earth's last line of defense.

"No Mr. Popo, not today. I have come to offer our newest students a chance to test themselves before we proceed with the more advanced aspects of the training," Kami tells his attendant before turning towards the humans, "I can sense that you've all grown quite a bit in your short time here. It is for this reason, that I ask of you a favor."

The humans look at him with rapt attention.

"Garlic Jr., has returned," Kami tells them with a dark look towards the skyline, "And I fear that his goals are more nefarious than even he realizes."

It's no use. Gohan puts down the book that he had been reading and stands up from his desk. For the last few weeks the young boy has been trying to fight off the idea that has been plaguing him ever since his father put him on the Nimbus. The shock of losing his mother had begun to wear off, or at least in the sense that Gohan had stopped crying himself to sleep every night. Every now and then he still expects to see his mother to come around the corner and nag him about studying or the pick him up like she used to. Something about being separated from her warm arms for so long makes Gohan feel hallow inside, in ways that even the young scholar cannot put into words.

This is the only reason that he had continued to study at all. His father's last words to him and his mother's dream are a greater motivation than any other to not totally abandon his books. Unlike his mother, the Ox-King was not nearly as strict of a tutor. Over the course of the last few weeks he had even shown off some of his fighting abilities to Gohan, which had greatly amused the boy. Alone in his room, Gohan begins to imitate some of the basic moves that his grandfather and father had shown him in his short life. An odd somersault nearly knocks the cap with the four star Dragon Ball off his head.

Maybe mom should have tried training more often, Gohan thinks to himself as he flawlessly goes through a sequence of punches and kicks, It's actually pretty fun.

The rhythm of practice is enough to have Gohan lose himself. Something in his blood just makes his movements flow into his mind. Thought takes a backseat to the physical motion of his body. Because of this, Gohan only barely hears the sound of wood being broken a few floors below. Despite the distressing sound, Gohan cannot help but smile as he continues to go through the moves he knows faster and faster.

This lapse in attention is a costly one. A blast of energy crashes into Gohan's room, throwing the boy against the wall. As he tries to stand, the mass of his grandfather is thrown against his body. The Ox-King's weight is too much for Gohan, all he can do is scream out. Three figures in cloaks approach him, cackling like a trio of witches. Their faces are too obscured for Gohan to observe any details about them. All he can see is their pointed fangs and glowing eyes.

"Well, what do we have here?' one of them asks, effortlessly throwing the Ox-King off of Gohan, "Looks like this brat has a Dragon Ball on his head."

"Just take it and let's get out of here," Another one of them says, "We need to report back to Master Garlic."

"Oh come on, you sensed this one's power when we came in here," The first one retorts, picking Gohan up by the head, "I say we take him back to our master and let him decide what to do with him."

"Fine, but he's your responsibility Cinnamon," The second one says with a shrug, "Nighty night kid."

There's nothing that Gohan can do as he slips into unconscious.

"Garlic Jr. is the son of my former rival. Before I split myself from King Piccolo, I competed for the position of Earth's guardian with a creature known as Garlic. His people are from another planet that was destroyed long ago. They came here seeking refuge, and later conquest. My predecessor wisely sealed him away in a place known as the Dead Zone," Kami tells the humans.

"And, his son escaped?" Tien asks, "I assume that this Garlic Jr. is out for vengeance."

"Yes, and now he has returned, whatever his intentions are, they can not be good," Kami says, "With the Saiyans on their way, it would be unwise to leave this matter unattended. I believe that this will be an excellent test of your abilities."

"Just point us in his direction!" Yamcha yells, clenching his fist, "We'll show him what happens when you mess with Earth! He'll be a great warm-up for those Saiyans."

"I warn you, this is more than a test. You must be cautious," Kami warns his pupils, "Go forward, and be careful."

"So, is there any reason that you're brought this child with you?" Garlic Jr., the master of the castle asks his minions from his gilded throne, "What use is a sniveling brat to me?"

"Well, he had a Dragon ball with him, and for a moment I could briefly feel this kid's power. It's pretty impressive," Cinnamon insists, taking a deep bow, "We thought it would be best to take him to you first. Perhaps you could use him as another servant?"

The boy doesn't look that strong," Garlic Jr. thinks to himself as he tries to examine the boy's power, I do feel something though.

With a smirk, the impish demon floats down so that he is only a foot from the terrified boy, "The tail is kind of weird, but I see your point. Better to bring him into our fold rather than risk him growing up and becoming a rival."

He turns his attention to the glowing six orange spheres before him. Everything is coming together, better than he could have hoped in fact. With six of the Dragon balls in his possession, nothing is going to stand in the way of his revenge.

Power Levels:

Master Roshi (Full Power): 200

Olve (with Turtle Shell): 190

Olve (without Turtle Shell): 275

Kami: 358

Garlic Jr.'s Minions (approximate average): 286

Garlic Jr: 375

Flashback Power Levels:

Young Bardock: 96

Young Olve: 103

Young Onin: 75

Lord/King Vegeta: 10,000

AN: Hello everyone!

So, as you can see we're doing Dead Zone! I know that this chapter might have been a bit slow (I feel like I say that a lot) but I wanted to get it up and make Dead Zone in two parts. Personally I don't love this movie, but it's still fun to write. Next chapter will have a little more action, I promise. Speaking of which, what is your least favorite DB/DBZ/DBGT movie? Mine is probably The World's Strongest, just a weird movie with a weak villain and premise.

As always please feel free to leave a review or PM me with comments, concerns, or criticisms. Also please feel free to ask questions should you have any, you might even get some extra content for it. If I don't respond right away I assure that it's just because I'm often busy with school or work (or in this week's case I was out of town because #spring-break).

Alright have an awesome day and I'll see you, next time!