Prologue: King Piccolo Saga pt 8- Raiding the King's Castle

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z except my own characters

Chemistry-Deaf: I decided to make two more parts (making a total of 10) after this.

Apparently, Diamao Piccolo was bored. While Pilaf was a coward, it provided Piccolo some entertainment. He veiled in making people scared out of their wits or just someone to listen to him. Now, Piccolo booted the useless minions out and his source of entertainment. He was alone. Not exactly alone, Saxophone was there, but he's driving the this airship. It doesn't matter to him that Saxophone was a nice walk from where he's sitting to the cockpit. That place was too small for his very tall height. He remembered being alone all too well. Getting himself alone brings unpleasant memories and feelings.

Which explains his necessity of creating children. Who cares they were ugly or totally different from what he look like? They obey him, fear him, wants to please him, and do anything in his favor. He gave each his confidence, his pride, and himself. They were all a part of him, an extension of him, and created by him. Why should he care about those hairy, varied colored beings that cover the planet? It was them that created him in the first place!

That brings up Kami. Standing above them, caring for them like they're his children. Piccolo also cared for his children too. Why does his children get scorned for doing the same thing that half of the population likes doing? Does Kami really hate his own race, or the other half of himself that this damn world created? This musing about his damn, goody-shoes, other half of himself made him angry. It was like the splitting designed them to hate each other. They really can't understand each other.

It was odd that both actually have the same agenda. They were just going about this at two different paths. Kami becomes the watchful eye over the population, hidden from the thousands. Diamao Piccolo strives for complete reign over the pathetic population and become a public figure. He wanted Kami to watch over his children, their own race, not those races that never knew they existed or cared. He destroyed them as a way to say Screw you, Kami. I'm making a kingdom more worthy of your protection and providence than these fools. Why should he play nice? Kami may deny this, but he knows, in fact both knows, that their personalities were similar. Kami doesn't want to mingle with them, and Diamao Piccolo wants to destroy them. This was simply anger at the current population with two different ways of handling it.

After five minutes of himself, he had enough. He needed a distraction. That distraction must come now. He opened the mind link to Saxophone. Get up here. He waited impatiently for him to come up. Once he saw Saxophone, he understood why it took a bit longer for him to arrive. He had a brownish juice he's drinking. It was refreshing in a way to have a child that was not completely like him. At all. In fact, he knows that he didn't create him, but it doesn't mean he can't love him like his own children. It was strange to him that this child could disobey him and it doesn't bother him. All of his own children obey him to the letter and that makes him pleased, but this child, oddly, make him proud. Like he's creating his own evils that contradict Piccolo's.

Seeing him standing there with an occasional gulp of that juice was not enough of a distraction. It just makes him think about Saxophone and somehow ended up with all the other things he was thinking during the five minutes to himself. "Do something."

Saxophone raised a brow ridge. "Other than standing here?"

"Ye-es."

Saxophone looked around before settling on the globe radar. With the death of the wish-granting dragon, the radar button was totally useless. So, he messed with the small remote. Somehow, he got it to rotate and went to see how far it could rotate. Then, he had an idea that could involve Piccolo. "Diamao."

"What?"

"I thought of an interesting game."

"Oh? Do tell."

"It's simple really. I rotate the globe and you eye-beam it. Then, I stop and see where it hits." Saxophone rotated the globe the other direction and Piccolo took his time shooting. It didn't occur to them that this game was a one-hit wonder.

The beams went through the exterior and fried some wires. This made the globe go crazy. The rotation was out of Saxophone's control and it flashed. Piccolo watched it like it was his most favorite thing ever. In a way, it was. Destruction was his way of not dealing with his own mind. Back to the globe, the bottom part was hanging by a quarter of itself. The rotating had stopped, but the flashes continues. Some of the long wires were falling through the cracks. A small boom inside the globe ended the flashes. It was a nice distraction.

The airship beeped and announced, "We are crossing the borders of East City." Just in time, too.

They willingly blew up the airship at the edge of the city. The quiet, boring day the people were having would become an interesting day, and the airship was a warning. They flew high enough that nobody on the ground below could catch a glimpse of them.

They arrive at the King's Castle and landed. "My new home," Piccolo mused. "There's some class to it." Saxophone said nothing about the castle. He personally thought it could be better.

They strolled leisurely up to the gates. The gates have two guards. One of them noticed their approach and did a standard warning, "Are you visitors? We are sorry, but visitors are not allowed in the King's Castle. You must-" He was cut off by Piccolo's hand chopping his neck. That woke up the other guard from his day-dream.

"Terrorist!" he shouted as he shop several rounds at Piccolo. At least one bullet hit Piccolo, but it bounced off him harmlessly. He was quick to realized the fruitless of his actions to the tall demon. And, his immediate demise.

Now, the gates were unguarded. Piccolo tore it down in seconds and walked over the wreckage with Saxophone in tow. This did not go unnoticed. Soon, a swarm of soldiers surrounds the uninvited guests. The guests made quick work of the soldiers and went unhindered in.

"Halt!"

They had reached the end of the entrance hall when a big guy stopped them. He comes up to Piccolo's shoulders whereas the other soldiers come up to Piccolo's waist or chest if they're lucky. Saxophone was a head shorter than this guy.

"Look who's here, a tough guy!" mocked Piccolo.

"It seems that the royal guards couldn't stop you. Guess machines don't work on you. How about pure muscle strength?"

"Sounds like someone's too confident and needs to turn down some notches."

"That's enough! Now, surrender immediately, or I'll do my worst."

"Surrender? Why would I surrender? You're the one who's losing men."

"Bastard!" Piccolo's mocking had risen his temper. It didn't take long for him to blow his top off and attempt to punch Piccolo's block off. It never reached its destination.

"Oh, was that a punch?" Piccolo had effortlessly stopped his pure-muscle-strength punch. With his free hand, he gave the big guy guard an effective punch. It threw him to the wall behind him. Getting down to business, Piccolo manhandled the guard and said, "Where is the king?"

"Why should I tell you where he is?" That answer did not please Piccolo the slightest. Not satisfied, Piccolo killed him. He turn to look at the two guards that accompanied the big guy. They were scared out of their wits and provided a better answer.

Saxophone had ignored Piccolo's dealings with the three guards and barely heard the engine of an aircraft. He quickly looked outside and caught an aircraft in the sky. "Diamao! I found the king, and he's escaping!" Piccolo walked over and saw the aircraft.

"So, I come all this way just to meet him and he's trying to avoid me?" Piccolo chuckled as he prepared for flight. "He won't get far."

Leaving his Diamao to his own devices, Saxophone focus on finishing his drink. Behind him, the soldiers had regrouped and barged in. Saxophone pretended not to hear them. Loud orders had the men assemble in lines and readying to shoot. Saxophone turned and was faced the onslaught of bullets. When their round had finished, Saxophone smiled. This caused confusion.

"Over here." They turned to find him in the air. "That's my after image you're shooting at." Some turned back to the after image and watched it jump up while dropping the glass. It faded. "If you had good ears, you might have heard my glass." They looked down to the shattered remains. "This is the second time today I lost it. So, shall we make this quick?" This didn't register in their brains when an immediate black out hit. "Sweet dreams."

Saxophone saw the aircraft return flight and decided that Piccolo can handle the king without him. Juice was delicious and all, but he needed more. He set off to find the kitchen.

When he found it, nobody saw him. Not content with standing there till someone sees him, he started to weave through the bustling cooks. The cooks didn't notice till he was at the storage unit. They weren't sure what to do with a stranger in their mist. Only employees ever come in the kitchen and those were the cooks and maids involved. They watched this green man looking for something. After going through the entire storage which was the pantry, refrigerator, freezer, and cellar did he look at them.

"No juice?" he asked.

Later, Piccolo made sure that the king doesn't try to escape again and know the consequences in doing so, he set out to find his child. He found Saxophone outside walking slowly with a big salad bowl and chopsticks. When he caught sight of Piccolo, he walked up. "What's this?" Piccolo asked.

"The kitchen doesn't have juices, Diamao."

Piccolo shifted the urge to laugh at this stupidity and the seriousness Saxophone displayed. "What's does juices have to do with this?"

"I am very close to being completely healed and I finished the apple juice. I went to the kitchen to-" A gun shot interrupted Saxophone's rant. A soldier had gotten close to them as they were walking and took aim. They stopped just before the bullet would have hit them, and Piccolo made quick work with the soldier. "As I was saying before we were interrupted, could you believe their selection of drinks? They have enough milk, the water is adequate, all assortment of wine, but their juice choices are very limited! I had to send them out for more. So, I had to settle on salad. The seeds and nuts are good, the leaves taste fresh. I wonder how they keep it so fresh? Want some?"

"No."

"Does my King does not want his greens?"

"Very funny."

A/N: The last three sections (including this one) will be longer than the last seven. After typing all of this, I forgot that Piccolo did have years of being in the pot, alone. That meant, a lot of thinking. I decided not to add a sentence or a paragraph relating to that experience and left it as it is.