Kress gazed at the barren landscape, the body of a young woman bleeding at his feet, her eyes gazing upward lifelessly. His hands and face and armor were covered in blood, his eyes were cold, and his hands were cut and bruised. A sound of footsteps came up from behind him, and Kress turned and knelt. "My Prince," he said, and Vegeta cast a glance at him, as he stood looking over the barren landscape himself.
This planet had been purchased by one of Frieza's wealthier clients. Of course, wealth was not power, as the now dead weaklings who had settled here could attest. Vegeta smiled at the carnage. How fitting, that those who paid to have this planet wiped of its former inhabitants, should share their fate.
"These were weaklings, Kress," Vegeta said, gazing down at his blood-covered protégé. His scouter still showed no power level from the young man, though the mangled bodies all around them were proof that the scouter was very, very wrong. The time would come soon, when Vegeta would remove the energy absorber that had been implanted next to Kress's heart. But that wasn't today, and Kress still needed to hold his own against stronger opponents. "The Ginyu Force will come soon. When they do, you will survive," he told the young man, who was still kneeling at his feet. "And they will not. You will kill at least one of them, or I will kill you myself. Do you understand?" he asked.
Kress swallowed. "Yes, my Prince," he said humbly.
Kress wasn't sure how long ago it had been, when Prince Vegeta had come back from his 'meeting' with Frieza. To his tormented mind, things had always been like this. He had always knelt at the foot of the Prince, the Prince had always held his life in his hands, and every day, if Kress proved himself, he would be granted another day of existence.
Because the Prince had a mission. A destiny. He was going to see to it that Frieza and all who served him died, once and for all.
And Kress was the sword he would use to cut him down.
Kress didn't remember a lot, his mind blocked out large chunks of his training under Prince Vegeta. The effects remained. Kress was a cold, ruthless, and efficient killer. He hungered for it, thirsted for it, lusted after it. He needed to kill, needed to feel the blood spilling over his hands, needed to hear the bones snap, the screams grow quiet, needed to see the eyes turn distant and un-seeing. It wasn't just battle he sought, though battle filled him with vigor, no, it was death. Death was his favorite color, and he had to paint the galaxy with it.
Prince Vegeta helped him stay in the lines. Their targets were strategic, only certain colonies, at certain times, just enough to bring out some of Frieza's forces, without bringing all of them. Vegeta made certain no word ever got out of their existence. They were a nameless, faceless plague on the Cold Empire. Only at the end, when it was too late to defend himself, would Frieza come to know that it was the Saiyans who orchestrated his demise.
"Say it," Vegeta ordered, and Kress spoke.
"Love is a weakness. Weakness must be destroyed. I am the destroyer of weakness," he said automatically, and Vegeta nodded.
"Frieza's empire is weakness, Kress. We will destroy it. We will rid the universe of its plague," Vegeta spat.
Kress smiled at the thought of Frieza's blood spilling over his hands. He wondered if it would be warm or cold. He wondered what it would taste like.
"Let's go. Ginyu will be here in a few days. Until then, we train," Vegeta said, and turned away.
Only when Vegeta was gone from sight did Kress stand, and follow his Prince.
He would survive today.