I do not own any God of War or Dragon Ball characters.

He didn't know how long he had been in the pod.

Kratos cracked his eyes at the sudden blueish light that came from the open side of the pod. A giant orb had been in sight, and he could do nothing but watch at the pod made it's way towards the world.

If you would've told him a few weeks ago he would've been blasted off of that world and sent through an empty void of worlds and stars; he would've sneered in your face. But surpised was what Kratos was, and it was not easy to surpise him. He's been alive a long time, and he's seen just about everything one could see. But apparently, fate surprised him once more.

The small pod had slowed down it's speed whilst approaching the planet, almost floating it's way down into the world. Kratos had never seen anything like it. He'd been in this contraption for god knows how long. Luckily, eating wasn't a priority for him. Although, he could eat a titan.

The view of the blue orb had left Kratos speechless. He didn't know if he was to be trapped in this contraption for eternity, although it certainly felt like it. Slowly approaching, Kratos had wondered. What had awaited him? Did fate have another sick game it wanted to play?

The pod began to enter the planet, and he could feel the pod speed up the further and further he descended into the planets atmosphere. His stomach felt like it was in his chest as he felt like he was falling himself. Kratos didn't know how long he had been descending until he suddenly jolted at the crash landing.

"You have arrived at your destination."

He was dizzy from all the falling, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this blasted pod. He forcibly kicked the door off with ease, snapping it from it's hinges. The door had flew a few feet, and Kratos had crawled out of the pod. He had fell to his knees, he felt weak from sitting in one area all this time. While traversing the cosmos, Kratos had lost track of time. He'd mainly sleep off such time until the voice from the pod had rang out letting him know that he was close to his destination.

Inhaling the fresh air, he opened his eyes to taken in his surroundings. It seemed like he landed in a wasteland, and it worried him that the planet he crashed on was just that, a wasteland. He could see nothing in distance with his naked eye, and the pod that had dragged him to this world was surely destroyed. He huffed, realizing that he would have to traverse this land. Until he found shelter of some sort, maybe even civilization.

The sun had seem to currently be setting, the orange glow painted sky. Kratos had an odd sense of comfort traversing these wastelands, they were eerily quiet and the warmth of the weather was much better compared to the bitter cold he endured for months.

His mind drifted to the memory of him killing the warrior that had attacked him. Frieza... was the name he mentioned? He needed to find out who that was, and why one of his soldiers tried to kill him. The entire ordeal was unnecessary, and it could've been avoided. But no, the stranger just had to test him.

The whimpers and gasped breaths lingered in his mind just as all of his kills do. Kratos's mind shifted to where he beat Zeus within an inch if his life, and didn't sfop until his father was dead and a bloody pulp. He could remember the empty feeling he had while looking at Zeus's lifeless body. How he felt the heavy coating of blood dripping from his blunt fingers. Oddly enough, Kratos can remember every single person he's killed and if he doesn't know their name, he remembers their faces. The boat captain, the people trying to escape his murderous rampage, Posideon's princess. Lysandra and Calliope...

He could feel the guilt settling in when he was overlooking the ruins of Greece. The storms raged on, thunder and lightning struck across the sky alongside the rubble snd smoke of the destruction he brought upon Greece.

He shook his head of the dark thoughts, and continued journeying across the endless wasteland. He walked for what seemed like hours until he saw smoke in the distance. Instantly, his PTSD kicked in from the fight back on his world, immediately unsheathing the blades. He approached the smoke, and the closer he got he could see a figure sitting around a small makeshift fire. It was an old man. He had a survival pack around him which lied out food and supplies. The old man merely looked up at the intimidating white ashed god with twin fire blades in his grasp as if he was just a regular man. Kratos said nothing, and didn't make a subtle move. Looks can be deceiving, and he was in no condition to battle once again.

"My goodness," he said taking in Kratos's appearance. "Don't think I've seen anyone like you before."

Kratos said nothing, except gave the old man an glare. Surprisingly, the old man didn't back down. He's seen deceivery before, and knows that it is not to be underestimated.

"I assume you are lost, son?" The breezy wind picked up and swept the fire in it's grasp. The night was still young, and the sun had set whilst Kratos walked. The old man held his hand out, motioning for Kratos to sit. Kratos was weary, but sheathed the blades before taking a seat across the fire from the old man.

He felt his muscles relax from the tension of constant moving. His closed his eyes, before he rolled his neck. The crack gave him relief, and he exhaled tiredly. He opened his eyes to find the old man staring at him. Kratos locked eye contact with him, before he sneered.

"What is it you are looking at, old man?" Kratos questioned.

The old man didn't answer at first, but chuckled. "I've never seen someone with skin as white as you. As well, as the peculiar tattoo."

"My appearance should be the least of your worrries."

"I'm not worried at all," The old man held his eye contact with Kratos, not fazed by the death galre he was receiving. "Doesn't take much to realize when someone's lost."

It was Kratos who broke eye contact, as he adverted his vision to the crackling flames. Silence had fallen on them, and Kratos had to muster the strength to admit that he was indeed lost, again.

"Yes," he weakly admitted. "I have no idea where I am."

The old man snorted, before he stroked the fire with a stick. He managed to make the fire burn much more stronger. The old man sat back before he looked across the fire at the God of War.

"I know these wastelands like the back of my hand. I take yearly trips out here. Lots of battles and conflicts have happened here." He said, motioning with his hand. Kratos saw the direction of his hand lead towards craters and cracked moutainsides. The old man looked up towards the stars. "I need to get away sometimes, and with me entering my twilight years, I've done all I can. My children are out living their lives. My wife has passed, and I'd rather the silence."

Kratos heeded his words staring wordlessly into the fire. He mind drifted to Calliope and Lysandra once more. The air between the old man and Spartan general was quiet once more.

"From the looks of ya, I'd reckon you've been through a lot." Kratos grunted, before seeing the old man stroke the fire once more. The old man offered a slice of meat to Kratos, which he offered with silent gratitude. Kratos practically swallowed the meal down. Like he mentioned, eating wasn't a priority, but he wouldn't turn down food.

"I was attacked back on my own world by a stranger." Kratos said, surpising the man with the information. "A man of some kind. They were looking for me." The old man had the first shocked look on his face that Kratos saw, and he allowed himslef to slowly continued. "I battled with this stranger. A very formidable warrior, I managed to kill him." The old man listened intently, motioning for him to go on. "He mentioned a 'Lord Frieza.'

The old man's face dropped slightly as the mention of the name, Kratos caught onto that. He raised an eyebrow at the man's silence and wondered if he knew.

"What do you know, old man?" Kratos said deadly.

He looked away from Kratos, before he swallowed. "The man you mentioned is very evil." He looked towards Kratos again with a serious face. "I do not know much, but I might know of people who will."

"Where can I find them?"

The old man shifted. "I can take you to West City. But no further. There, you will find the answers. The people who know about that man reside there. Look for an company called "Capsule Corporation."

Kratos nodded, before his eyes turned to the fire that had still been ablazed. The silence between them had came again them, the only sound was the cracking of the flames and the smooth breezy night wind.

"I suggest you rest up, son." The old man warned, making Kratos eye him. "The walk to West City is not a short one."

Kratos merely sighed. Life was never easy...

Kratos was an early bird, but somehow the old man woke eariler than the god.

Nudging him awake, Kratos had stood to his feet with drowsy eyes. Make no mistake, being trained for years in the Spartan army was him having to wake up incredibly early, barely getting sleep from the night before. He was an early bird, but he was not an morning person.

Stack all of that ontop of having to walk miles in a wasteland with an old man who can't seem to stop yapping. It had seemed like hours that the two had walked through the endless land before Kratos could see what seemed to look like structures in the distance, but much more oddly shaped. None like the ones back in Greece.

The old man had taken him as far as a cliff a distance from the city, but was high enough to overlook the sprawling metropolis. Kratos had bid the man farewell, with gratitude before the man made his way back from the way he lead Kratos. Kratos was now alone, looking at a gigantic metropolis. It was a peaceful view, but he had answers to seek. Questions that need answering. Kratos was a determined man.

An hour later and Kratos found himself walking the blocks of West City. He felt out of place, towering over most citizens of the city, only few of them reaching his height or taller. He was eyed up constantly, people watched with suspicion or confusion. He knew he was feared by those who knew him. Loathed him. Wanted his head on a pike. But these humans were looking at him with confusion. They'd eye him or flat out point his appearance out. Some were marvled at his appearance, others out of confusion, and some, fear.

The city was sprawling, and he'd often have to shoulder bump people. He bumped into this very muscular man, probably as muscular than him. The man sneered at Kratos, before Kratos had looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. If glares could kill, the man would be dead. The man's face softened a bit, before he grumbled and turned around to keep walking. If he was human again, he'd feel the strain in his legs from walking so much, but Kratos felt good. Despite his body language, and despite keeping his awareness around his surroundings, he was pretty relaxed.

It was a while longer before Kratos stumbled upon a sphere-like structure that read the letters "CAPSULE". Kratos looked down at the small piece of paper with the old man's sloppy handwriting that read out the same word. Capsule. He crumbled the piece of paper before stepping towards the spehere structure. A handful of people were outside and about, and became distracted by his intimidating appearance. Kratos paid them no mind before he began to make his way to the entrance.

Another old man had been smoking by the oddly shaped doors, a short man. The man had an odd outfit on that Kratos chose to ignore. He'd already been foreign to this world, cultural differences between the two should've been expected. Although, this is not how the god of war's week would've gone.

"You." Kratos spoke, his voice low with determination. He startled the man out of his trance, and the man almost quivered at the sight of the tall, muscular white ash, red tattoed god walking straight towards him. This old man didn't seem to afraid of him, which somewhat put a contempt feeling in him but he didn't let his body show it. He stopped towards the man, now towering over the man smoking. The two stared at each ofher for awhile, the man had a puzzled but curious expression.

"Well," the old man started, puffing put a cloud of smoke into the air. Kratos smelled the musty stench of the smoke. "What can I help you with?"

"I come seeking answers." Kratos said directly, not wssting any time or words. "I was told I'd find them here."

"Well that depends on the answers you're looking for." The man shot back. "What is it you seek?"

"Information about a man." Kratos replied. The old man's eyebrow furrowed, before taking anothe pull of the cigar. "A man, who goes by the name 'Lord Frieza."

The old man almost choked on the puff of smoke he was to exhale, and it came off as a raggedy, harsh cough. Kratos sighed impatiently as the man, whose ryes were now filled with dread and fear.

"L-Lord Frieza?" He stammered, his laid back persona was replaced with a certain nervousness at even the slightest mention of the name. Kratos's eyebrow raised, before he took another step towards the man. "What could you possibly want to know about him?"

"What I want is none of your concern." Kratos decalred, before he closed his mouth. His patience was already wearing thin, and he did not have the time to entertain mumbling fools.

The man gulped. "The man you seek is a very evil tyrant." The man dropped the smoke he was inhaling before stomping it out. "If you wish to know more, it'd be best if you speak to my daughter."

Kratos said nothing nor did he bulge an inch. The man took the hint, before he motioned him inside of the spehere structure. The doors slid open, which Kratos raised an eyebrow too. He felt blast of cool air slightly surround him, to his sheer surpise he's never seen structures like this on or any in this world back in Greece. He looked around, oddly weird furniture was placed in different spots. Light somehow emitted from the ceiling wierdly. The texture of the room was superior to any of the most luxurious in Sparta.

The sliding doors closed behind him, and now he just felt out of place. He was still in his loincloth, which was dirtied and stained with old blood. He didn't know if it was from the warrior he killed, or the countless gods he's slaughtered. They walked through the main room, before stopping. Kratos felt a but of annoyance watching the man turn around with a stern face.

"I will fetch Bulma." The man said, before he went to turn his back but caught himself. He faced Kratos once again. "And my name is Dr. Briefs. And you are...?"

"Kratos."

"Kratos..." Dr. Briefs echoed before he nodded and disappeared around a corner. Kratos exhaled the breath he was holding in, before he let his eyes roam around the room. He turned his body to the side, looking at images that were encased in glass. He marveled at the fact that this world can somehow make a permanent image. The cultural jump was a pretty big one, and Kratos would have to adapt.

He heard some commotion from down the hall where Dr. Briefs had rounded, a high feminine voice had reached his ears, and the voice sounded more annoyed.

"Fine!" He heard down the hall, and heavy footsteps began to become louder and louder. A woman appeared, and shrieked at the sight of him which made him cringe. She was a blue haired woman, with big blue, bulging eyes. An expression of shock and terror on her face as she held a defensive stance. "Dad could've at least told me you were scary!"

Kratos sneered at her ignorance, before facing her fully. He walked towards her and to his suprise, she didn't walk backwards. She stood in the spot she was in, before lowering her arm. She wasn't in her defensive stance anymore. He was now a few inches in front of the woman, lookong at her with a stern expression.

"I was told you can tell me about a man named "Frieza." Kratos broke the silence, his voice in a soft but again, a stern manner.

"I might," she said with a bit of hesitation. She striaghtened her posture, seemingly finding confidence in herself. "Why would you want to know him?"

"One of his soliders attacked me back on my world," Kratos began, he sighed before finding words to make this as short as possible. He was not one to waste words. "It seems he wanted to recruit me, but I refused. In turn, the stranger attacked me. So I killed him. I took his mysterious travel contraption, and I landed here. I was told I can find information here."

The woman nodded. "Then you've come to the right place." Kratos silently felt the gratitude spread within him but didn't dare show it. "What will you want with Frieza?"

"To die by my hand." Kratos announced, making her eyes slightly widened. She looked him up and down, befuddled by his outfit.

"I am not suprised." The woman said, before she put her thumb to her chin. "You're not the only one who wants that evil tyrant dead." Kratos raised an eyebrow, and it seemed that she had something else to say but shook her head. "Anyway, you've come to the right place. Names Bulma."

"Kratos."

She held her hand out, and Kratos didn't respond to it. But she was adamant about it, and kept it out. He sneered, before he reached his own out and gently wrapped it around hers. The size of his hand smothered Bulma's hand, careful not to crush it.

"Great!" Bulma beamed, pulling her hand from his grasp. "Now, I guess I have to explain everything to you. It's best you follow me. If you're to join us on the trip to Namek. I'll have to fill you in."