Crossover Fan Fiction / Sailor Moon Fan Fiction / Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vendetta ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Disclaimer: I don't own anything originally created by either Naoko Takeuchi or Akira Toriyama. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction.

 

As for reviewing: If you say “that was gr8, writ more!!!!!!!!!!!11” I cannot be responsible for the consequences. I would really like suggestions, about not only grammar, but more importantly about characterization, plot and detail. You don't have to give an all-out critique about my word-choice, but some semi-intelligent input will be most appreciated.

 

 

Prologue

 

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He didn't do it out of any sense of loyalty, and he most certainly didn't do it for pleasure. He didn't revel in it like some; but then again he never fought it. From day one, he had been willing to follow orders, and proved far more efficient than one would have expected. He seemed ruthless, killing those he was told to kill quickly and without mercy. He spared no one, regardless of race, sex or age. If he were told to destroy an entire planet, he would destroy, and if he were told simply to assassinate a single individual, he would.

 

A superficial glance would reveal someone hardened to the work—thick body, cold, glaring eyes. But with a deeper look, those eyes betrayed a sad, lonely man, hanging onto a thread of life for something unnamed. He had learned to mask this emotion on the rest of his body, mouth set most often in a scowl, muscles tensed at every occasion. He still laughed, joked with the few of his friends who were still with him, but they knew he wasn't the same, and they didn't blame him. Things had gone badly, and he was coping as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

 

There were others who would have died to have his power, his quickly earned influence. Men trained their entire lives to grow as strong as he, and lived in the shadows of fame, drawn to it like a pesky yet resilient insect toward light that would, in the end, be their undoing. The renown, the money, the women attracted great numbers, but were rarely obtained. This man had been discovered not even two years ago and he had attained so much more than most could ever dream. Most figured he was among the luckiest men alive. He was perhaps not the richest, and definitely not the most powerful, physically and political, but he had not even reached the age of twenty-one. From the outside, things looked bright for him.

 

Unbeknownst to the masses, he was not happy. The way he played his renown, spent his money, collected his women, he seemed more than content. In truth, he cared nothing for notoriety. His mind was focused on a single goal, and strength was a necessity in this. He didn't really mind the money or the women, but they could not fill the void in him. Only revenge could accomplish that.

 

* * *

 

Goku came in, showered and refreshed, settling himself at the bar next to the man who had, with great reluctance on both ends, become a sort of friend. The two had found each other via Goku's brother, whom Goku hadn't gotten the chance to get to know. Shortly after Raditz had come and collected his brother from earth, he'd been killed on a particularly tricky mission. The death hardly bothered Goku, but had left him more or less alone in unfamiliar territory. Vegeta had gotten him…accustomed to this new life.

 

The major factor that kept them from each other's throats half the time was a similar vendetta. The same man had managed to ruin both of their lives, and the both of them wanted him dead. Of course, both wanted to deal the blow themselves, and so their training together was always a competition. This factor managed to keep them from becoming true friends, but was not so serious that it caused any major arguments. Neither would be overly disappointed to see that man killed.

 

Either way, they'd both quickly learned to read each other, as warriors are often good at doing. And today, Vegeta could tell that something was bothering his companion. Goku had sighed, ever so softly, and his scowl had turned from something angry to something miserable. Before Vegeta could even ask, Goku offered him an explanation.

 

“You spare them, and they love you, bless your mercy. You kill them and they throw their money and their daughters at you. You'd think they would realize just how cruel we really are.”

 

Vegeta scoffed.

 

“The masses are stupid,” he offered. “If they were intelligent enough to realize that, they wouldn't let themselves get killed so easily. Don't brood over it. It's kill or be killed.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

 

He stared down at the drink that had been placed in front of him, watching the ice melt. He wasn't in the mood for booze.

 

“That was the last mission of the month, right?” Goku asked.

 

“Except for the tournament in three days, yeah,” Vegeta said. “When Gorran found out we were fighting, he dropped out.”

 

He smirked at the look of shock on his companion's face. Gorran was one of the few free fighters who fought in the tournaments. The rest were slaves or men who, like Goku and especially Vegeta, owed their alliances to someone in high political standing. The few who joined the tournaments of their own free will were usually suffering financial difficulty, and found the fighting a solution. Either they won enough to pay off their debts, or they died trying. Gorran, on the other hand, just liked to fight.

 

“He's really strong. I didn't think we were that recognizable. Is he just listening to rumors, or could we really beat him?” Goku asked.

 

“I don't know about you, but I could kick the crap out of him. Only cowards back out of tournaments like that.”

 

Vegeta knocked back a shot and then stood. As per usual, he was smirking arrogantly.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“That shipment of slaves that was supposed to arrive last week finally got here. I'm going to go…check out the merchandise, if you will.”

 

That meant “check out the women.” Vegeta was not attracted to women who threw themselves at him. He preferred the thrill of the “chase.” Goku saw it as a sado-masochistic preference for rape, but said nothing. He found no pleasure in unwilling women, but found it hard to argue the morality of it all with Vegeta, considering the fact that the two of them committed genocide on a day to day basis for money. As this thought entered his head, he mentally smacked himself. What was the universe coming to, that someone like him could kill and then feel bad about rape?

 

* * *

 

Life was looking great for Tsukino Usagi. She had been reassured that the last battle she'd fought would be her last for over a millennium. Her friends were alive and well. Her boyfriend had proposed a few weeks ago, and that annoyingly lovable pink-haired creature calling itself her future daughter had gone home. Sometimes Usagi missed Chibi-Usa, but knowing she was safe in the future, and having some peace and quiet, more than made up for it.

 

Unbeknownst to the cheerful blond, her world would soon change. All that was predicted of her future had given her a false sense of security. She believed she would marry her dearest Mamoru and, in a thousand years, come to be queen of the world. This was not to be. Time had been tampered with, if only slightly, but also with dire consequences.

 

A menacing threat was approaching her world, a power far beyond anything she had ever encountered. While she and her friends had dabbled in magical resources strong enough only for the tasks originally set in their destinies, this power was physical, tangible. It was a destructive force to be reckoned with, and not even the power of the Ginzuishou would be a match.

 

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I believe it is a bit short, but it is only a prologue, so you'd best not be too picky. As I said in the author's notes above, there will be elaboration in the following chapters.

 

Please read the note above about reviewing.