16 years later…
He watched the blackened skies mixing with the sunset's orange hue, casting golden light to dance off of the shimmering buildings in the distance. Overhead, shuttles and civilian craft alike scurried to and fro, racing to parts of the city that he could not see from his spot in the institution courtyard. A few drops of rain began to trickle down, washing over his face to splatter at an end on the dirt below. He closed his eyes, wishing he could get lost in the scenery…
"What's wrong, John?" The pig-faced teen shoved him back down in to the ground once more. "Can't defend your little brother?" His friends snickered behind their larger buddy, watching in delight as he continued to tease the two brothers.
"I don't need defending!" James shouted. While they were twins, they were not identical. James was of smaller stature than John, with long black hair that stood straight up on his head. James was slightly different, having lilac colored hair that fell down nearly to his shoulders. This was one of the main reasons that the other kids at the institution felt the need to pick on them. As long as he could remember, they had engaged in this constant tug-of-war that would never diminish. It usually ended up with someone getting hurt… Frankly, John was getting sick of it.
"Back off," a voice suddenly rang from the other side of the courtyard. The group hushed, turning to see the familiar figure standing behind them. John sighed, thankful that their friend Shawn had joined the mix. He walked forward slowly, moving his large frame through the middle of the attackers. "Is there a problem here?"
"I don't know," the leader snorted. "Why don't you ask your dead sister?"
Shawn grit his teeth, clasping a shaky hand to the locket with the girl's picture. Like the rest of them, he did not know any family or relatives, all having been destroyed when the Galactics were infiltrating their reign onto the planet. But, unlike the others, Shawn had a bit of a memento: a locket with a single picture in it, with the name "Pan" scrolled into the front face. Though he did not know her while living, it was still a soft spot for anyone. John watched as his companion walked up to the group.
"Say that again."
"Why don't you ask your dead sister, freak!" The boy reared back, punching Shawn directly in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards helplessly. As the rest of them saw their cue, they all burst forward into activity, attacking both James and John without care. Two of them thrust hard punches directly into John's gut, doubling him over in pain as they continued to pound him relentlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the other boys kicking Shawn to the ground. He clenched his fists, watching in torment as two other ones went after his brother. With a single punch, they sent blood spraying from his lip, coating the ground below.
"Stop…" John hissed, gritting his teeth.
"What was that?" One of the others asked, snickering. He sent yet another punch into John's face. The bones of his hands cracked upon impact with his skull, and he shouted in pain. The others looked in his direction, noticing the screaming comrade.
"Leave him alone!" John didn't know what was coming over him… Suddenly, a brilliant heat seemed to pass through his body, and he ran towards the leader. Taking a hold of him by his arm, he lunged with everything he had in him, tossing his body through the brick wall at the other end of courtyard. As the other boys were gathering around him, he planted his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs…
-------
J'erah tapped his fingers viciously on the ivory desk before him. He hated this place. With a passion, he hated this place. Why they would choose to run an empire from Earth was beyond him, but he wasn't in charge. He might as well have been, though.
Grunting, he scanned his office, looking for some way to vent his frustration. Things were so boring lately… Everything was over run, and there was nothing left for him to do. He felt like a waste of good military know-how, and raw power. It was he that had destroyed Son Goku, the "defender" of Earth all those years ago, and his son, Gohan. Now what did he have to show for it? Cursing, he stood up, throwing his chair back in the process. Suddenly, before he had the chance to do anymore damage, his display blinked to life.
"Good day, J'erah," the metallic operator said hollowly.
"Good day, Operator," he hissed, letting himself calm down. "What do you want?"
"A message has passed through to you from the highest sector of the Western City Institution…"
"I don't care," he reached forward to shut off the monitor.
"Something tells me that you do, sir," the robot jabbered gravely. In a flash, the image of burning rubble flashed onto the screen…
"I'm listening..."
-------
"You said that they were dead," General Lernam grunted, his yellow eyes releasing a haunting glow.
"Don't start with me," J'erah rolled his eyes. "I found the boys just like you asked, and I killed them myself. Vegeta and Boxers Briefs, and Gokan."
"And you're absolutely sure of this?" Another one of the Counsel members objected.
"Give him some credit, Abgar," Leara said sarcastically. "He could snap you like a twig, and for some reason, you think that he would have trouble killing a couple of saiyajin newborns." J'erah nodded. Out of the Counsel, he had to respect Leara the most. She was a retired bounty hunter and ex-assassin, thus, being the only one with any kind of similarity to himself. She proved to be a very useful ally…
Without warning, the large communication screen at the end of the table hummed into view, displaying the glowing eyes of Tyran, Emperor of the Galactic Empire… Just his face sent chills down J'erah's spine, and that said a lot in and of itself. He was a man hardened beyond all recognition, but just the face of Tyran on a display screen could make him cringe. Though J'erah stood high on the ladder of command, he had only had a few personal encounters with the ruler of their vast kingdom, and each time, his entire persona was shaken up from nerves. He had never glimpsed even a portion of the being's power, but knew that it had to be far superior to his own, seeing as how even a spoken word from the villain could make him recoil back in fear. Lately, he had been frequenting them with his presence less and less it seemed… Rumor was that he was sick, or getting less able to rule with his old age. Only time would tell…
"I trust that my Counsel members are making effective use of the time I have given them," his bass voice boomed across the conference table. Everyone felt a hushed tingle run across their bodies, as they sat down in reverence.
"Yes, Your Eminence," Abgar replied.
"I would hope so," he commented. "Let's get down to business… J'erah? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing, my Lord," J'erah said with confidence masking his voice, though he felt none. "I killed the saiyajin children years ago."
"Or so you thought," Lernam tossed in.
"Or so I thought," J'erah repeated, casting him a vicious glance. "The Institution nurses found me the babies with the appropriate tags, and I disposed of them properly."
"So the answer is obvious," Leara countered. "There was a mixup in the labeling process."
"So it seems…" Tyran said gruffly. "So it seems. Well, let us fix the problem. J'erah, I want you to return to the Institution to dispose of the children, again. This time, finish the job."
"Of course, my Lord."
"I object," Abgar interrupted. "He messed up before, what says that he won't mess up again."
J'erah clenched his fists, struggling with everything he had to not incinerate the man right where he sat. Abgar wasn't necessarily weak, but J'erah could kill him if he had to. "And what do you propose?" he asked, restraining the anger in his voice.
The plump being stood to his feet, turning to the elder General Lernam, whose gray hair was trim neatly upon his head. "I propose that your Eminence sends myself and General Lernam to remedy the situation."
"Very well, then," Tyran said, eyeing them warily. "Go, and bring them here." The display shut off.
"Be careful, though," J'erah said suddenly. The others turned to look at him, knowing that he was not one to sound concerned for the likes of others.
"Oh?" Lernam asked sarcastically. "I thought they were just children…"
"Did you read the damage reports?"
"I must confess, I have not," Lernam replied sardonically again. "Why don't you inform me?"
"These 'children' destroyed most of the institution, built to withstand heavy airborn assault…" The Counsel looked at one another. Good. He had gotten their attention. "Shall I continue? They also leveled entire city blocks on the eastern end of the compound, and took out civilian and military shuttlecraft that were flying overhead. Be ready for anything, gentlemen. Be ready for anything… " With that, he turned and left the room, leaving the two men to ponder silently over the choice that they had just made for themselves.
He doubted that there was an actual mix-up in the identification of the children, more than that, there was a chance that someone had actually switched the tags on purpose. Someone who was ready to defend the saiyajin at all costs. Such a person would have to be either incredibly powerful, or insane… Either way, J'erah did not want to be on the receiving end of what they had to offer.
He made his way down the hall to throw open the doors of the training room. He would have to vent his frustrations on a couple of helpless grunts…
He watched the blackened skies mixing with the sunset's orange hue, casting golden light to dance off of the shimmering buildings in the distance. Overhead, shuttles and civilian craft alike scurried to and fro, racing to parts of the city that he could not see from his spot in the institution courtyard. A few drops of rain began to trickle down, washing over his face to splatter at an end on the dirt below. He closed his eyes, wishing he could get lost in the scenery…
"What's wrong, John?" The pig-faced teen shoved him back down in to the ground once more. "Can't defend your little brother?" His friends snickered behind their larger buddy, watching in delight as he continued to tease the two brothers.
"I don't need defending!" James shouted. While they were twins, they were not identical. James was of smaller stature than John, with long black hair that stood straight up on his head. James was slightly different, having lilac colored hair that fell down nearly to his shoulders. This was one of the main reasons that the other kids at the institution felt the need to pick on them. As long as he could remember, they had engaged in this constant tug-of-war that would never diminish. It usually ended up with someone getting hurt… Frankly, John was getting sick of it.
"Back off," a voice suddenly rang from the other side of the courtyard. The group hushed, turning to see the familiar figure standing behind them. John sighed, thankful that their friend Shawn had joined the mix. He walked forward slowly, moving his large frame through the middle of the attackers. "Is there a problem here?"
"I don't know," the leader snorted. "Why don't you ask your dead sister?"
Shawn grit his teeth, clasping a shaky hand to the locket with the girl's picture. Like the rest of them, he did not know any family or relatives, all having been destroyed when the Galactics were infiltrating their reign onto the planet. But, unlike the others, Shawn had a bit of a memento: a locket with a single picture in it, with the name "Pan" scrolled into the front face. Though he did not know her while living, it was still a soft spot for anyone. John watched as his companion walked up to the group.
"Say that again."
"Why don't you ask your dead sister, freak!" The boy reared back, punching Shawn directly in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards helplessly. As the rest of them saw their cue, they all burst forward into activity, attacking both James and John without care. Two of them thrust hard punches directly into John's gut, doubling him over in pain as they continued to pound him relentlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the other boys kicking Shawn to the ground. He clenched his fists, watching in torment as two other ones went after his brother. With a single punch, they sent blood spraying from his lip, coating the ground below.
"Stop…" John hissed, gritting his teeth.
"What was that?" One of the others asked, snickering. He sent yet another punch into John's face. The bones of his hands cracked upon impact with his skull, and he shouted in pain. The others looked in his direction, noticing the screaming comrade.
"Leave him alone!" John didn't know what was coming over him… Suddenly, a brilliant heat seemed to pass through his body, and he ran towards the leader. Taking a hold of him by his arm, he lunged with everything he had in him, tossing his body through the brick wall at the other end of courtyard. As the other boys were gathering around him, he planted his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs…
-------
J'erah tapped his fingers viciously on the ivory desk before him. He hated this place. With a passion, he hated this place. Why they would choose to run an empire from Earth was beyond him, but he wasn't in charge. He might as well have been, though.
Grunting, he scanned his office, looking for some way to vent his frustration. Things were so boring lately… Everything was over run, and there was nothing left for him to do. He felt like a waste of good military know-how, and raw power. It was he that had destroyed Son Goku, the "defender" of Earth all those years ago, and his son, Gohan. Now what did he have to show for it? Cursing, he stood up, throwing his chair back in the process. Suddenly, before he had the chance to do anymore damage, his display blinked to life.
"Good day, J'erah," the metallic operator said hollowly.
"Good day, Operator," he hissed, letting himself calm down. "What do you want?"
"A message has passed through to you from the highest sector of the Western City Institution…"
"I don't care," he reached forward to shut off the monitor.
"Something tells me that you do, sir," the robot jabbered gravely. In a flash, the image of burning rubble flashed onto the screen…
"I'm listening..."
-------
"You said that they were dead," General Lernam grunted, his yellow eyes releasing a haunting glow.
"Don't start with me," J'erah rolled his eyes. "I found the boys just like you asked, and I killed them myself. Vegeta and Boxers Briefs, and Gokan."
"And you're absolutely sure of this?" Another one of the Counsel members objected.
"Give him some credit, Abgar," Leara said sarcastically. "He could snap you like a twig, and for some reason, you think that he would have trouble killing a couple of saiyajin newborns." J'erah nodded. Out of the Counsel, he had to respect Leara the most. She was a retired bounty hunter and ex-assassin, thus, being the only one with any kind of similarity to himself. She proved to be a very useful ally…
Without warning, the large communication screen at the end of the table hummed into view, displaying the glowing eyes of Tyran, Emperor of the Galactic Empire… Just his face sent chills down J'erah's spine, and that said a lot in and of itself. He was a man hardened beyond all recognition, but just the face of Tyran on a display screen could make him cringe. Though J'erah stood high on the ladder of command, he had only had a few personal encounters with the ruler of their vast kingdom, and each time, his entire persona was shaken up from nerves. He had never glimpsed even a portion of the being's power, but knew that it had to be far superior to his own, seeing as how even a spoken word from the villain could make him recoil back in fear. Lately, he had been frequenting them with his presence less and less it seemed… Rumor was that he was sick, or getting less able to rule with his old age. Only time would tell…
"I trust that my Counsel members are making effective use of the time I have given them," his bass voice boomed across the conference table. Everyone felt a hushed tingle run across their bodies, as they sat down in reverence.
"Yes, Your Eminence," Abgar replied.
"I would hope so," he commented. "Let's get down to business… J'erah? What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing, my Lord," J'erah said with confidence masking his voice, though he felt none. "I killed the saiyajin children years ago."
"Or so you thought," Lernam tossed in.
"Or so I thought," J'erah repeated, casting him a vicious glance. "The Institution nurses found me the babies with the appropriate tags, and I disposed of them properly."
"So the answer is obvious," Leara countered. "There was a mixup in the labeling process."
"So it seems…" Tyran said gruffly. "So it seems. Well, let us fix the problem. J'erah, I want you to return to the Institution to dispose of the children, again. This time, finish the job."
"Of course, my Lord."
"I object," Abgar interrupted. "He messed up before, what says that he won't mess up again."
J'erah clenched his fists, struggling with everything he had to not incinerate the man right where he sat. Abgar wasn't necessarily weak, but J'erah could kill him if he had to. "And what do you propose?" he asked, restraining the anger in his voice.
The plump being stood to his feet, turning to the elder General Lernam, whose gray hair was trim neatly upon his head. "I propose that your Eminence sends myself and General Lernam to remedy the situation."
"Very well, then," Tyran said, eyeing them warily. "Go, and bring them here." The display shut off.
"Be careful, though," J'erah said suddenly. The others turned to look at him, knowing that he was not one to sound concerned for the likes of others.
"Oh?" Lernam asked sarcastically. "I thought they were just children…"
"Did you read the damage reports?"
"I must confess, I have not," Lernam replied sardonically again. "Why don't you inform me?"
"These 'children' destroyed most of the institution, built to withstand heavy airborn assault…" The Counsel looked at one another. Good. He had gotten their attention. "Shall I continue? They also leveled entire city blocks on the eastern end of the compound, and took out civilian and military shuttlecraft that were flying overhead. Be ready for anything, gentlemen. Be ready for anything… " With that, he turned and left the room, leaving the two men to ponder silently over the choice that they had just made for themselves.
He doubted that there was an actual mix-up in the identification of the children, more than that, there was a chance that someone had actually switched the tags on purpose. Someone who was ready to defend the saiyajin at all costs. Such a person would have to be either incredibly powerful, or insane… Either way, J'erah did not want to be on the receiving end of what they had to offer.
He made his way down the hall to throw open the doors of the training room. He would have to vent his frustrations on a couple of helpless grunts…