Chapter 6.5

Viscera, flesh, and blood: their fragrances he found most comforting and recognisable. Smells he had grown to know, like an old acquaintance. The same smells to slowly lure him out of a very deep slumber, grappling his innards, twisting them, making it more apparent that he hadn't eaten in almost forty-eight hours, which, for a Saiyan, was severely detrimental. When he begrudgingly opened his eyes, the world around him was a film of black. Nothing but the sound of Mina devouring a raw carcass of some sort was to be heard.

Vegeta was hunched over on his side, lying in the cold dirt of a forest floor like an abandoned animal, watching Mina as his eyes began to focus. She tore into the thick, meaty thigh of the recently deceased creature, yanked her head backwards, shredding the meat clean off the bone, and gulped it down without chewing. This scene made him think back to Bulma, on Orlon, while he was feasting on the mutinous creatures that lain on that shit-hole-of-a-planet. He remembered her eyes following his every action, how they narrowed when he swallowed his prey. Now he was witnessing near enough the same scene from Bulma's perspective, and found it difficult to comprehend why she had never cowered. Or if she did, she concealed it very well.

Dawn was still a couple of hours away; the night air was shifting to an almost bearable temperature. Vegeta dragged himself from the ground and forcibly set one foot in front of the other, to trudge through the forest. Alone. Always. His favourite place was anywhere, provided it be alone. When alone he could really allow the darkness to set in, to consume his every thought. Even those slightly disturbing gentle thoughts he was beginning to have. As gentle as they were, they were unwelcome in a mind that caved so much trauma and chaos, a brain that inhabited memories of torture, some of which Vegeta had gladly wielded the blade. The moment something as soft as the skin on Bulma's lower back came to mind was the precise moment he knew he was losing himself. No longer was Vegeta the ruthless prince of all Saiyans. He was a toy, a puppet. A slave. Too many, in fact.

The air was dense, a low sheet of fog had set in as the sun threatened to reveal itself beyond an opening in the forest. Mina's energy was still stationary, and it had ebbed. She must have been sleeping. Given the opportunity, Vegeta ran. Flying was always an option, but for once he took to feeling the dirt crumble beneath his boots. It almost made he himself feel somehow connected to this planet, rooted in some way, albeit very distantly. Into the clearing he sprinted, damp air licking the sides of his face. Crickets chirruped in the eerie silence. Eerie but pleasant. He might have even pushed as far to say that he liked it. If he kept running, he could feel truly alone. But, if he kept running, that would make him a coward. A sprint became a run, and running a jog, before he stopped entirely, dropping to his knees.

Stars still glimmered in the pale sky, and the ghostly slice of the moon was showing a hint of warmth from the oncoming sun. Vegeta stared, opened his mouth slightly, cold air circling his wet palette. It had been weeks, perhaps months, since he'd been on Earth, trawling around, awaiting something, even a flicker of communication from Freiza. Days felt longer, emptier. His purpose was diminishing. What game was Frieza playing this time? Was he planning to wait an eternity, watch as Vegeta tore himself inside out? If Frieza was to show himself, he would have done it by now. What was stopping him? And why? Vegeta's sense of self-worth was now nearing rock bottom. It started to shrink a long time ago when Frieza first chucked him on Orlon with those other dogs for that God forsaken game. For a moment, he thought he was onto something, that the power he harnessed was enough. He was wrong. Oh, he was very wrong.

He'd been clenching his fists without being aware of it, near enough splitting his palms.

And why had he been burdened with that red-headed wench? A part of him could tolerate her, as she didn't exactly hinder him too much; not as much as the others'. But he wasn't fond of any company. Mina knew how to fight, meaning she could hold her own. Obviously this was nowhere near to the same extent as he, but she was stronger than most of the imbeciles on this planet. Also, if anyone knew Freiza even a fraction as well as Vegeta, it would be her. Like that mattered, though. Freiza wasn't showing up, which left Vegeta feeling hollow, like a chunk of him had been removed callously. Was it possible to feel bereavement for a slab of your life that had encompassed nothing but unforgettable pain?

The sun rose, covering him in a strange kind of clarifying heat. It drenched his face, leaving the other side of his body feeling unnaturally cooler. And for once, his mind became still. The yellowing grass around him whispered as a slight wind stroked by, birds began to chime their innocence into the livening morning air. A positive to come out of all of this was that he could easily recognise the beauty of this planet, though that did not make him any more inclined to protect it. That wasn't what he had planned at all. In fact, it was becoming unfathomable why he was still here. What was anchoring him to this place? Was the answer as clear and as fresh as the air he was breathing in now? For all Vegeta knew, Freiza could be long gone, crying with laughter at the poor excuse of a Saiyan he'd left stranded and tormented.
Something was keeping him here. Kakkarot: If what that moron said was true about the legendary Saiyans, then he too was extremely interested in reaching this plateau, no matter how farfetched it sounded. Although, why would Vegeta put all, if any, of his trust into anyone else's palms? From experience, he knew better than to trust anyone, because no matter what the situation, they eventually displayed their true colours of betrayal. This entire situation was fucked up. Not a single soul knew what was going on. He had no clue anymore. Inside his head was a million thoughts, all clambering for his full attention, willing him to take note, watch, and act. Sometimes it felt as though he was watching himself from a distance, as if he were a mere spectator of the show. It was all becoming too tiresome.
Reaching this legendary power was what he would strive towards, but to do that, he had to be alone. Entirely solitary. On Earth, it could not be achieved.
No sooner had the decision cemented itself was it snagged away by a crack of energy coming from not far away. Vegeta rose from the ground, looked beyond the next break in the forest, as if he were able to see what was happening so far off into the distance. He could ignore it, but the need to kill her was still a hunger he had yet to satisfy.

The Earth around him had shifted. An acrid, meaty smell lingered in the far distance, at least twenty miles south from where he stood. Trouble had always been alluring to Vegeta, whispered to him no matter the distance. Without hesitation he tracked the scent from a higher vantage point above the tree tops, immediately spotting the meandering plume of smoke reaching towards the heavens. He couldn't supress the hammering of his heart as the adrenaline took hold of him. Finally, this mundane piece of rock was going to offer some excitement. But as he got closer, descending, the scent grew stronger, pungent … familiar.

Sopping ground squelched beneath his feet when he landed. Judging by the numerous blotches of ruptured earth dappling the area, other beings had not long fled, yet Vegeta could not sense a living soul. What he could see, though, was a makeshift altar or a stage of worship of sorts. A hard lump formed in his throat when he spied the entirety of someone's scalp and hair, draped and saturated in blood across the stand. Through the streaks of crimson, was aqua. Upon the altar, emitting the overbearing odour was what looked like a female human, charred and still flaming, tied to a stake, propped up in such a way that her head tilted back, her now blackened face pointing towards the sky. Maybe it looked like her, but the disfigurement caused by the flames had long removed any traces of identification.

He walked over and, to his utter displeasure, with a shaking hand and parched mouth, picked up the wet lump of scalp and inhaled deeply at the tresses of hair attached to it. Unrecognisable. He threw it aside, snarled, and scrutinised the flaming corpse. What unfavourable circumstances had this female fallen into in order to wind up at the focal point of some poorly executed satanic ritual? And why? Who were these cretins glorifying? Because it certainly wasn't him.
The area surrounding him was bleak and heavy. Birds had long stopped chirruping, their pointless songs swallowed by the crackling of the fire. Despite of the stillness, Vegeta could not detect any life force. Not even Mina's. How far had he flown? It was only a handful of miles. Someone had definitely been here, and not long ago. The body on the stake still resembled that of a human female. Was it possible the remaining humans had somehow learnt to control their own ki? Even so, he, a Saiyan with such power in comparison, would sense something. He grabbed a random piece of paper from a cluster, which had been scattered across the ground, turned its crumpled page over to see the word 'Jo Never Forgives' scrawled in blood.

Jo? Who the fuck was Jo?

Amateurs

Vegeta scoffed, and torched the 'parchment' with a flicker of ki.

During his time serving Frieza, he had become accustomed to seeing sights one hundred times more disturbing than this. And this was supposed to send a message? To whom? And to what effect? He wanted to guffaw into the dismal air. Such a retarded motive these fiends had! If anything, it was only going to get them killed a lot faster. Vegeta smirked. Perhaps he had a little objective to tide him over until Frieza decided to show his fuck ugly face. He was careful to push aside the slight concern he had had over thinking that, only for a second, the burning corpse was Bulma. Now he had a game of his own to play, a bit of sport … a distraction. This Jo character was going to find out who Vegeta was very soon.

A/N - I appreciate that this is very short, and I don't want to make excuses but I'm going to: I've had really horrendous depression on and off for years, which came to a head last year resulting in something that made me lose all motivation to do ... anything; writing included. I'll spare you all the details from an author's note. Just know that I'm trying to get back into writing and reading and all the creative stuff I used to love. I had never forgotten about this fiction, and every day wanted to continue it. That's what I'm going to do. Slow and steady.

Best wishes,

Sporadic xx