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Vegeta could feel eyes studying him. Though it was irritating, it wasn't offensive simply on principle. Truly, he didn't give a shit if the flamboyant, mental amoeba studied him from afar. The idiot probably thought he was being stealthy about it. Let him think he was getting away with it – why waste an opportunity to collect information about your enemy when your enemy believed they were collecting on you?

Fuck! Was it any surprise that the serpent was a rude shade of purple? What a disgraceful color for a warrior. Vegeta sighed, wondering what the hell Ginyu was so interested in, anyway.

The Saiyan may have seemed more… detached… than normal during the past week, but he still had limits. He flicked his gaze towards Ginyu and scowled darkly. In return, Ginyu narrowed his eyes.

Just then, the buzzer announcing their successful drop through the planet's atmosphere sounded and their week-long standoff could be at an end. Oh, thank Kami. Er, God – Gods! What?

He blinked at himself in mild surprise. He hadn't thought of the Gods of his people in more years than he could recall. Why suddenly they should come to mind – especially in a manner that was completely purposeless – it was.. absurdly random.

He ground his teeth. Though the moments of these mental hiccups were occurring less frequently with every day, they still happened. When they did, they took him completely by surprise and he found that for a few moments, it seemed like his senses were giving him conflicting information. It was so disorienting, he felt at times as though he were walking in a made-up delusion - and somewhere far out of his reach, his true self was locked within an induced sleep, unable to wake.

When he felt this way, the only thing that seemed to ground him was to shut out everything and focus on the only thing he felt was unquestionably real.

When he had awoke a week ago, he had still been on Frieza's ship. He had found himself embedded within a dent in the wall of his sleeping chamber that, apparently, he had somehow created in his sleep - without waking. He had remained there for long hours, deep in thought. The scorched walls, shredded and burned blankets – even how he had managed to create an impression in the heavily reinforced metal while flying backwards? – were of little consequence.

What had riveted him then… what he focused on every time he felt like he was losing touch with what was real and unreal – to keep it close and unforgotten – was the thick taste of blood he knew was not his own.

Every time he tried to recall the events of that night… who's blood was it? – his mind would invent something completely plausible that, if he hadn't the dried proof on his chin and lips… and the intoxicating taste on his tongue… that morning when he woke, he may have accepted it as truth.

He growled at himself in distressed exasperation, but the sound was cut off as he noticed Ginyu from the corner of his eye, still staring. Sighing again, he stood from his seat, stepped to position himself near the hatch, and put the strange thoughts to the side for later exploration. They weren't invasive and they didn't bother him, per say. They might have even gone unnoticed if he wasn't so intently focused on any clue that could lead him to the origin of that dizzying flavor. It was only that these odd thoughts and feelings just seemed to.. pop up from nowhere as if they belonged and everything else was a lie. Only, how could that be? Everything else fit! It were the strange thoughts that rarely made sense in any context, and they were completely foreign as if they belonged to someone else! It was absurd. The whole thing was absurd!

The hatch lurched as it began to open, and all strangeness fell away. His blood sang in eagerness. He had been cooped up on this ship for a week with Ginyu, who had insisted he fly with the Saiyan. Vegeta had been certain the purple freak would attempt to kill him just as he himself had killed Jeice and Burter, but he hadn't spoken against the former Ginyu leader joining him. So be it. If he were attacked during the trip, the next time the ship landed, only one would emerge and Vegeta knew which one that one would be.

Seconds from being fully open, Vegeta leaned out of the vessel's entrance. He wanted to be the first off the transport. It gave him a head start, and he could choose the best grounds for battle; the strongest defenses were always unleashed right away in an effort to deter invasion.

Ginyu muscled his way through the other warriors to stand opposite Vegeta. Vegeta didn't bother looking away from the blurring scenery flying by below them as Ginyu spoke, a sinister grin on his face.

"Ready for second place, monkey?"

Vegeta didn't take the bait. He wasn't interested in competition, and he certainly wasn't going to allow Ginyu to fly anywhere close by. He had a notion Ginyu suspected he had been surpassed in strength, and would find any opportunity or excuse to ambush the Saiyan.

But as his muscles bunched to launch him into the sky, Vegeta couldn't resist taunting the worm. How could any being be so insipid and yet so gaudy at the same time?

"Second to none, pustule," he tossed over his shoulder as he took off. He barked a laugh when he heard the Bovinae-jin's curses behind him get swallowed by the wind. When he could no longer hear insults being flung at him, he knew he was not being followed so he dropped all pretenses. He increased his speed far beyond anyone else's capability to match.

The wind in his hair was magnificent. Flying at such speeds, wrapped in a torpedo of ki, he felt free. He pierced a mountain of clouds and as they curled in and around him, they bathed him in a mist of cool water. As he shot through to the other side, a ribbon of vapor clung to him and spread out behind him like a white comet's tail. He dropped low to the surface and flew fast over the terrain.

He saw a massive canyon spread out below him. Dipping into it, he soared past painted rocks, gleaming under the sun in the earthy shades of layered minerals. Slowing his speed, he swooped to the bottom of the massive ravine to follow the path of a river. Slowing even more to watch the fish through the surface, he noticed the dazzling blues and greens of the waves glinting in the light. A quiet part of him felt a soft sort of peace. Then, his eyes caught his reflection. He observed it as it lazily stared back at him from just feet away. His expression seemed mild. Calm.

He frowned, and his reflection frowned back at him, as was proper. This was what he knew. Not the other Saiyan who looked up at him serenely. He was a warrior -

And In what dimension do warriors fly around enjoying the scenery?

Embarrassed, he continued to admonish his ridiculous, inexcusable, pitiful behavior as he gained altitude. What could possibly be so alluring about a bunch of rocks? How did he even know how to admire or appreciate such things when he had only ever destroyed them? More importantly, why would he ever bother!

Completely distracted by his own admonishment, he didn't notice the Army of angry war machines beyond the raised canyon walls. As he reached the summit, something exploded just in front of him, and he flung himself out of the way before he flew through a quickly growing maelstrom of sizzling, rolling air that seemed to be aware of him. As he maneuvered at blurring speeds, the firestorm came alive and hotly chased him. More and more concussive explosions erupted around him, and each added its mass of volcanic thunder clouds to the first. At first, it was a curious thing, this hungry cloud beast trying to envelop him – but he quickly discovered that not only was it fast, it hurt. It was also learning from him, and was becoming more difficult to avoid. Several times it had gotten close enough to burn him with some sort of gaseous acid.

Growing angry now, he wrapped himself in a cocoon of ki and dove straight down and through it. It feasted on his ki like a ravenous monster, trying to break it open to get to the meat inside. When Vegeta broke through the bottom, his ki unravelling dangerously around him from the assault, he barely pulled up in time before crashing to the ground below. He rewrapped himself in ki and used his speed and momentum to turn tightly up and around. He continued to circle the cloud in tighter and tighter arcs until it had nowhere to expand except down. When the funnel touched the ground, he tore away from the tornado, leaving a contrail of acid gas in his wake.

He watched as the storm turn on its creators. He was indifferent to their screams, but it was a shock when their bodies burst into puffs of blood as the funnel devoured them. Apparently, he had created a vacuum inside the thing and the pressure made all of the body's liquids boil, causing the flesh pop. Huh.

How… morbidly foul.

His interest faded and he glanced around. Picking a direction at random, he abandoned the burning, bloody, bubbling mess behind.

He needed a city. Or something just as big and important so he could blow it up. That was the purpose of a warrior – not playing games with the locals. Or looking at varieties of flowers…

He passed by several aircraft at subsonic speeds and ignored them just as he ignored ground defenses. They were able to launch more of the acid clouds at him buy by the time the bombs exploded, he had long since passed.

Increasingly aggravated as he flew, he almost felt relieved when a sprawling metropolis appeared below him. Finally.

He landed in the middle of what had been a paved street. It didn't seem like much was left for him; most of the structures and buildings were smoking skeletons of steel and rubble. There were fires everywhere, but wasn't that always the case during a purge? Fire, screaming, things crumbling, blah blah, blah. Shouldn't there be more to it? Like… collecting information or something?

He shook his head at himself. Anything useful from this culture would be destroyed or enslaved. His purpose was to destroy. He didn't ask himself why then, he was exploring ruins instead.

He walked down the remnants of the street, stepping around smoldering vehicles, bodies burned into humanoid shaped piles of salt and ash, broken glass, twisted metal, papers and tattered bits of clothing blowing in the heated air, ruptured water mains, erupting in spouts dozens of feet high, electrical wires sparking and snapping as they dangled from splintered posts and fractured walls..

He stopped. Something about this seemed familiar. He had purged hundreds of planets, but this seemed eerily fresh – almost as if he'd seen this recently.

Looking to his left, he stepped onto a side street and listened intently. He was looking for someone.

Zarbon.. His head snapped up and his eyes widened. He scanned the sky and stretched his senses in all directions. You're looking for..

Zarbon?

Vegeta waivered in confusion. As expected, Frieza's men were crawling all over the place, and what he presumed were the planet's inhabitants were running or hiding throughout the wreckage. But what alarmed him was he knew he wasn't looking for Zarbon because he knew the amphibian was dead, by his own hand no less.

He was looking for someone else.

Vegeta felt the fog of overlapping, conflicting mental images crash against one another. They were at war with one another, each trying take the place of truth in his mind. He dropped his gaze down, uncertain of where he was or even who he was. He scanned the ruins around him, looking for something – a landmark or something that could tell him – anything. His eyes paused on the trash heaps, cardboard containers, and filth.

Something pulled him to the refuse pile and as he peered down at it, he heard a high pitched squeak and saw the box shuffle as something beneath it moved.

The beast within him leapt at the box and snatched it from the ground in a blur of speed. A frightened rodent squealed and dove through a crack in the wall. Panting, Vegeta stared at the empty spot on the ground. Something deep within him howled in frustration and loss.

Disappointed, confused, angry, despairing, and above all, not understanding why, Vegeta stepped backwards until his back hit the wall of the building behind him. He slid down until he was crouching on the balls of his feet and rested his elbows on his knees. Holding his head in his hands, he stared at the vacant spot and wondered what was supposed to be there.

His hands turned claws as he ran them through his hair and he snarled at himself in frustration. He was going mad.

But… when he closed his eyes, he could still taste the blood on his lips…

Suddenly, from the pit of his loins, a terrible surge of scorching heat erupted and flowed throughout his muscles like lava on a planet twisted and tortured by gravity. It spread slowly and left him weak, quivering, and sweating as it oozed throughout his organs and under his skin. It couldn't have lasted more than a few moments, but the sensation lingered even as he struggled to stand.

He staggered a few feet before leaning against the wall to rest. His senses pulsed painfully – first crashing against each other in a war to overpower the others, and then fading to such a distant whisper, he was left barely any means of perception at all.

He snorted in bitter laughter at himself. He was going mad and his body was falling apart and all he felt was impatience. If he was going to lose himself to the nothingness of Saiyan insanity, why make it worse by fighting it? Maybe in the fog of emptiness, he wouldn't notice that he felt… alone.

He opened his eyes cautiously, uncertain if it would be entirely too bright or way too dark. It seemed his senses had gotten themselves under control, though, and everything appeared as it should. Still, he waited until the last of the burning faded from his limbs before stepping back into the street.

He heard a sharp gasp and his head snapped to the left. Four humanoids – an elderly female and three young ones of different ages, two female and one male - stood cowering, their eyes full of terror. Stunned, Vegeta stared at them, at a loss. Out of habit and instinct, he raised his arm and called forth a ball of ki. The male lunged forward to attack in a desperate need to protect the females behind him. It was the foolish act of one who couldn't hope to succeed and knew it, but did it anyway. For what? What was the purpose? The elderly female, obviously too old to be their mother, grabbed the boy's shoulder and pulled him back. Her eyes never left Vegeta's as she placed a child barely old enough to walk in the boy child's arms. Then, she stepped in front of the three and shielded them with her own body.

Vegeta cocked his head and studied them. Their planet was dying around them, their people as well. They couldn't survive, even if they were overlooked. Wouldn't they prefer to perish with their kind? Would it not be cruel to let them suffer by allowing them life? But as he stared at the old woman, hunched and already one foot in the grave, he felt something he had never felt before yet felt so familiar. There was a nobility in her quiet acceptance. She knew there was no chance for them, and yet she stood, refusing to give up even in the face of defeat. She didn't beg, she didn't blindly attack, and yet… It was… an act of defiance, a complete refusal to submit even when all was lost. It was an act of a warrior.

The look in her eye caused a pang of something undefinable and powerful to rumble in the pit of his chest. He'd seen that look somewhere before…

From his peripheral vision, Vegeta saw movement. He launched the ball of ki he had been holding, and then two more, over the woman's shoulder. The first blast destroyed the scouter worn over an umber colored eye. The second two hit a building behind the other soldier, which exploded outward, showering the horned warrior in rubble. Without thought, Vegeta dove for the boy cradling the child and tucked them under one arm, hooked his tail around the younger females, and threw his other arm around the old woman and launched them all into the air.

He had bought them some time by blinding Ginyu. Without his scouter, he wouldn't be able to sense where they were. But burdened with four passengers who could not withstand the physical force of flying at speed, they would not be able to get far. It was now that Vegeta questioned his actions, but he shoved aside his irrational behavior and concentrated on both where he was going and what was following behind. Several times, Vegeta flung one or another of his unexpected stowaways to free an arm. He would launch ki strikes at Ginyu, or deflect incoming strikes that he couldn't dodge without g-forces breaking the bones of the old woman or her brood. Then, he would swoop to catch whoever he had thrown, flung, or dropped before they fell to their death.

Once, he heard the smallest child laughing in glee, as though it were all a game.

He smirked. Warriors all, from eldest to youngest.

He couldn't outfly Ginyu, and he couldn't fight. Not burdened as he was. So, flying low, Vegeta used the planet itself as camouflage. Here, slow speed was an advantage; he flew in stealth, and not a single blowing leaf betrayed his direction. Above them, Ginyu rained a hailstorm upon them. Vegeta avoided these with ease, as he could sense them approach. What he could not avoid, however, were the explosions that erupted around them, spraying debris like missiles in every direction. The Saiyan used himself as a shield for his fragile cargo, but was knocked out of the air when a concussion of hot air blasted them. Tumbling to the ground, he flung the two girls in his tail towards the softest looking patch of shrubs and bushes he could see. The boy and girl-child, he threw at a thicket of flowers and grass. By then, he was too close to the ground, so he wrapped his arms around the woman, turned so that his back was to the ground, crashed through a mound of rock, and left a gouge in the stone and dirt as he came to a halt fifty feet away in a smoking crater.

Stunned with his ears ringing, he shook his head to clear it and looked down to the woman on his chest. Alarmed when she didn't move, he took her arms and lifted her from his chest. She hung listlessly for a moment, but rallied her strength. So. Not dead, not unconscious, just had the wind knocked out of her.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. Instead of fear, he saw confusion, disbelief, and.. hope.

Frowning, he pushed her off of him and stood, brushing the dirt from his armor. They didn't have much time before Ginyu found them. He leapt from the crater, scanning the area for the other three. They appeared from the copse of trees, helping each other through the tangles, just as the crone hauled herself from the lip of the depression.

He looked skyward, searching for the enemy he should have killed when he had the chance. The woman tugged on his armor. He glanced at her, incensed that she felt she could touch him, but bit back a growl when he saw she was frantically pointing, and trying to tug him in that direction. Looking to where she indicated, he searched for – whatever had caught her attention. He shook his head. Whatever she wanted him to see, he couldn't see it. A string of garbled gibberish tumbled from her mouth, and she made gestures that he couldn't understand. Impatient, he glared at her and snarled. She leapt away from him, startled, but gathered her courage. This time, with distance between them, she pointed again and slowly repeated the gestures, emphasizing them. It took a moment, but he thought he understood.

She had indicated her eyes and then had swiftly looked to the side while pointing straight behind her. Looking again over her shoulder, he shifted his gaze slightly to the side. There, in his periphery, he saw it. It was like the scenery was cut in half and where the two edges lined up, there was a slight displacement. It was almost like a stick thrust into water – the stick appeared straight except where it was broken in half by the water's surface and the ends touched off skew. A force field? No. Some sort of cloak. He inclined his head at her to show he saw it. She nodded and turned to gather the children. When they had gone several steps ahead, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, a question in her aging eyes. He shook his head and pointed up. He had no interest in going with them; he still had something to do – someone to kill.

She pushed the children to go ahead of her and turned to face him. Crossing her arms over her chest so that her fingertips brushed her shoulders, her hair fell around her face as she dropped her head. She slowly lowered her body straight down until her knees touched the ground. Old as she was, there was still a gracefulness about her as she bowed to him in the way of her people. She stood just as she had bowed; chin to chest, arms crossed. When she was standing again, she looked up and smiled softly at him. Then, she turned away to catch up with her little ones.

For a moment, Vegeta considered letting them go. He had seen a kind of regality in the old crone's fearlessness when facing a fight she could not win. It had sparked something foreign within him that had forced him to react. It reminded him of… something familiar that he couldn't place. But he also understood allowing them to live would be cruel. Better that he kill them here and now – mercifully - than allow them to be toyed with, taunted, and tortured by someone else. He raised his arm and extended his hand. They would die without knowing it, believing they had found a place that was safe. They would never feel fear again. They would always be together.

He released four pinpoints of ki at once and watched as each of them fell, pierced through the heart.

He waited a moment, watching their slumped bodies, blood pooling under them. He felt nothing for them; no loss, no regret…. and it was this hollow lack that snagged his attention. Why did it feel as if a part him had expected a voice of conscience to rise up and mourn over what he had done? He snorted at himself in derision when he realized this is what he was waiting for as he stared at their unmoving forms.

He scowled but turned away to launch himself into the sky.

Instead, he found himself summersaulting through the air as Ginyu's enormous mass collided with him at full speed. Though his chest burned with the combined agony of the wind being socked out of him and several broken ribs, he grappled with the purple warrior as they pummeled through several rock outcroppings. As they slowed, Vegeta twisted so that the larger of the two was below him to absorb the impact of the mountains that broke around them.

As they slowed, Vegeta broke away from Ginyu's grip and slammed his fists into the bovine's chest armor, cracking it, and forcing Ginyu down under the weight of the heavy blow. Though he wasn't able to save himself from crashing, it was satisfying to know Ginyu's landing was all the more devastating. From the bottom of the crater his own body had created, coupled with the dust and pulverized rock raining down upon him, he couldn't see where the scaled cow had collided with the ground. He didn't give himself time to consider.

He hauled himself up the side of the ravine he had shaped and pulled himself to his feet. Shapes were beginning to form through the haze, but he still couldn't see clearly. So, he paused every few steps to listen, trying to zero in on his enemy through the ringing in his ears. His body felt drained and weak, as if he had been fighting for hours, but he didn't stop to contemplate it.

He stumbled towards haggard breathing and shifting rock and lost his footing as the ground under his foot gave way. Sliding down an embankment, he came to rest a few feet away from Ginyu, still sprawled out on his back. The warrior let his head fall to the side and peered up at the Saiyan with weary eyes. He started to chuckle, and wheezed.

"We've both lost our chance, Saiyan," he rasped.

Confused, Vegeta narrowed his eyes but advanced another step, collecting ki in his hand as he moved forward.

"I have lost nothing," he returned, and fueled more ki into his fingers.

Ginyu struggled to raise a hand and pointed. Vegeta side stepped, but Ginyu hadn't been pointing at him. Vegeta lowered his eyebrows suspiciously, but turned around to peer in the direction the other warrior had indicated when he heard noises coming from behind.

He heard a pop, and several explosions detonated around him all at once. A cloud with a consciousness all its own spread out and enveloped him. As it touched him, his skin burned and blistered. He screamed and fell to the ground, writhing. Distantly, he heard Ginyu's screaming join his own.

Howling in rage, Vegeta called forth a thunderstorm of ki, but the more he drew upon it, the more it was torn away from him. It wasn't acid that burned him…. It was the icy drain of his own life force being sucked out through his very pores. He stopped struggling, too weak to move and barely able to breathe. Only after the chilled bite of cold metal clicked around his neck was he finally able to find relief as he lost consciousness.


AN:

Thank all of you who have stayed with me so far. A lot has happened from chapter 1 (almost a year ago!) until now! I know the pace is really (too?) fast, but I can't say I'm in control of it. I'm not writing this story – it's using me to write itself! The end is within sight but there are still a lot of fantastic things to come – the resolution of Bulma and Vegeta's memories, The return of Nappa and the Z warriors, how Vegeta is finally able to gain control of his ki, and of course – Frieza!

I truly appreciate all the favorites, follows, and reviews I've received. I grin like an obnoxious buffoon when I get them. J Let me know if there's something more you want to see.

wsprs