Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Beginning ❯ Control ( Chapter 4 )

Control

Marduku stood there dumbfounded. He had no idea what had happened, it just seemed very similar to the confusing event in the Crimson Desert. The small boy would stiffen in pain and collapse, then somebody else close to him would behave strange for some time, kind of like the kid, and then, after a few seconds, the boy would stand up again as if nothing had happened.

To be honest, the kid freaked him out. He didn't think that that was a normal kid, not only because of those strange incidents, but also because of its abnormal strength, a strength no child could possess. Such a strength had been unheard of - until now. He was sure that the child was at least as strong as Prince Vegeta, the strongest youngster he had ever seen. But it was impossible that the prince of the planet should be outmatched by a simple brat from off-world, wasn't it?

As soon as they had tried to strap the kid to the med-bed, it had become frightened and had struggled. Marduku had had to use all of his strength, which was a remarkable amount, to hold that scrawny brat down, and even then the brat had freed itself without any difficulties, blowing up half of the room in the process. Well, Prince Vegeta had regularly kicked his butt in sparring matches, too, so maybe the brat wasn't as strong as the prince after all. What a relieving thought.

When Marduku had woken up from his involuntary nap on the cold, tiled floor, he had been convinced that the child had been so frightened that it had run away and that he would have to go looking for the kid all over the planet, which would be an arduous task considering the kid had neither a scouter nor a chip. But when he had opened his eyes to be confronted with the sight of the dirty boy kneeling in front of him, he had been pleasantly surprised that the kid hadn't bolted; after all, nobody could have stopped that brat considering the doctor had been out, too.

Forcing his thoughts away from past events to analyze them later on, he set his mind on the present again. The strange kid was currently walking towards him and looking him in the eyes. That boy's eyes were ... different; although they were as deep and black as any Saiyajin's eyes, they radiated innocence, happiness, curiosity, and ...

Emptiness. Yes, behind that naive, feeling facade, there was a vast, emotionless emptiness.

He wondered about the reason for the existence of that dark void, he had never seen anything like it in a living being before. Only the dead showed the bleak emptiness the kid possessed. But why would a child have death in its eyes, as if part of its mind had already stepped into its grave?

Being captivated by the hallow eyes, he completely missed the brat signaling the doctor to try again to implant the chip. He found out that he couldn't remove his gaze, that no muscle in his numbed body obeyed his will, and that he was slowly drowning in the two bottomless pools of midnight. But just when Marduku thought he would loose himself in the emptiness, a determined expression started to fill the endless black eyes and covered the void until none of it showed through any more.

Finally, he was able to avert his sight, and he shook his whole body to get rid of the awkward feeling the contact had left. What kind of child was that?

The kid seemed to be a bright one as it understood the necessity of the implantation of the chip without speaking their language or knowing their culture. The child showed the doc with a few curt gestures that he should go on with the procedure, no fear in its determined eyes. If the brat wasn't afraid of the chip or the doctor, then why had it bolted from the bed?

Turning around, the kid reached for Marduku's callused hand, and out of a reflex, he flinched away. Nevertheless, the kid snatched his big fingers out of the air without any trouble and put them securely on its good shoulder. The kid's hands weren't soft like he had expected, they felt hard and scarred like the hands of a warrior who had never used a regen-tank before. But the skin was a little bit too hot for his taste, and he felt slight tremors run through the boy's body, though he could not tell whether it was from the cold or weakness.

The kid moved its soft lips wordlessly, trying to force unfamiliar syllables out into the open air. Finally, the boy slowly stammered with a heavy accent:

"HH-howldhh mmheee..."

Surprised, he looked down at the brat. Had that been a grotesquely slurred 'hold me'? Did that boy know what he was talking about and what he had just said? What else did he know?

There were two possibilities, either those two words were just an accident, which Marduku didn't believe. They sounded too close to their 'hold me' to be a coincidence, and they fit too well to the previous gesture of putting a hand on the boy's shoulder; additionally, the pleading expression in the kid's onyx eyes spoke volumes. The other possibility meant that the boy had been cleverly deceiving them all along. He seemed to know exactly how much pain the implantation of the chip would bring, and he had to have at least some basic knowledge of their language. But what would the brat gain from the chip and from hiding his ability of understanding Saiyango?

Angrily, Marduku spat out:

"Can you understand me?"

The brat merely stared at him, no comprehension in its empty eyes. Were those eyes sincere, or had all of that innocence just been an act? That kid was one big enigma, none of its behavior made any sense. He felt as if he had to solve a puzzle in the dark, where some pieces were missing, some pieces were dispensable, and no pieces seemed to fit together at all.

Hoping that the language chip would enable him to talk to the kid and get some information, he swallowed his anger and looked over the boy's head to the doctor who had stopped dead in his tracks.

"I'll try and hold him as still as possible, while you try to get this over with as fast as you can."

As he looked down to the boy again, he missed the doctor's blatant surprise about his unusual caring. Normally, Marduku would have blasted a potential threat like the boy to oblivion without thinking twice, but this time, he hadn't done so. The friendly curiosity and trust in the kid's attitude had snuck its way into his heart, although Marduku would never admit to that. He was telling himself that he just kept the kid around because of the mystery surrounding it, and that the kid was probably just exceptionally dumb, anyone with a little bit of brain should know not to trust strangers.

Not knowing why exactly he even bothered with explaining, he tried to make it clear to the boy that he shouldn't move although it would hurt a lot. He felt really stupid doing some ridiculous show of pantomime in front of a child, but at least nobody except for the doctor was there to witness his humiliating performance. And the doc knew when to keep silent.

After a few futile attempts, the boy suddenly smiled and nodded. He was glad that the degrading acting was over, but he hoped that the kid had truly understood him, otherwise...

He didn't even want to think about 'otherwise', i. e. being left as either a mental or physical cripple, depending on where and how badly the vulnerable brain had been damaged. He wouldn't wish that cruel kind of fate on anyone.

The doctor started shaving a little bit of the brat's spiky hair at the base of its neck to get a better view of the place where he wanted to do the surgery. That got no reaction from the kid, it just stood as stiff as a board and stared off into nothingness. Then, doctor pulled a greenish-blue marker out of one of the many pockets in his lab-coat, and drew a thick, purple line on the tender, pale skin covering youthful bones, the planned location of the chip.

It would have been much safer if they had been able to lay the brat down, but the bed was gone, and he had a feeling that the brat wouldn't take kindly to being strapped down again. Fetching a big, white cotton towel to soak up the blood and a sterilized plastic tray with a variety of medical instruments, the doc told Marduku to hold the kid's head down in order to have better access.

When he touched the brat's spiky hair, they had short eye-contact again where he could read the trust and the determined will of the kid. Then he softly dipped the its small head forwards, and the boy stared down to the floor, off into nothingness again.

Having the towel secured around the kid's neck with a small clip, the doctor started the surgery. When the first blood welled forth beneath a sharp scalpel, the boy's good arm came up to Marduku's arm holding the shoulder without moving any other part of his body, gripping it in a death-grip, but otherwise there was no reaction.

Marduku was not very fond of the fact that he could watch everything the doctor was doing. Not that his stomach went queasy or that the sight of blood disturbed him, he had seen much worse in battle. But he had never been a friend of using steel tools to hurt people. He liked the heat and the proximity of hand-to-hand-combat better, there your skills - or the lack thereof - would decide over getting hurt; you could defend yourself and you wouldn't be at the mercy of some lunatic doctors.

The boy still stared emotionlessly at a point 3 feet behind Marduku's booted feet, only the tightening of the small fingers around his big, muscled forearm gave a hint of the pain the brat went through. So far, the kid was doing really well, it hadn't moved, it hadn't uttered any sound of discomfort, although its breathing was too deep and too controlled to come naturally.

When the doc started cutting a tiny, quadratic hole into the skull, Marduku's hand on the kid's forehead could feel the vibrations caused by the small bone saw, and he gripped the boy's shoulder tighter to reassure him and keep him from moving.

The small hand on his forearm squeezed harder with brute force until his bones were dangerously close to breaking, and the brat's breathing grew faster and more irregular, but not to the point where it would move its neck from the awkward position it had frozen in. Its defocused black eyes were completely glazed over with the agony, eradicating all trace of sentient thought. The boy looked rather like a mindless animal than a Saiyajin at the moment, but perhaps that was his technique to deal with pain.

He watched as the once white towel was slowly developing big red bloodstains and getting heavier by the second, not acknowledging the pain in his arm where the kid rested its fingers.

By the time the chip was inserted, the cloth's capacity was filled with the crimson liquid spilling from the boy's open skull. The doctor released the breath he had been holding and stepped away, putting all his reddened tools back on the tray and exchanging the wet and heavy towel for a new one, taking care not to spill any blood. After all, the doc didn't want to mop the floor, and he didn't want to have a meeting with his boss about how some stains had soiled the white tiles, either. The doctor would have to be very lucky to escape the punishment his boss seemed fit with his life.

"Now we will have to wait until the blood-activated mechanism in the chip builds all the synapses to the brain, then we can put him in the regen-tank."

"How long?", Marduku growled.

The doctor shrugged.

"10 to 15 minutes, depending on the boy's brain. We will know when he starts talking. Until then let him rest somewhere, I don't care where."

Against his nature, Marduku nodded silently and pulled his hand away from the brat's head. He was quite impressed by the boy as he had held perfectly still and not made any sound, and now didn't seem to acknowledge his wounds either. The other arm still secured by the boy's hand, he led the kid out of a third door to a tiny room with a single bed covered by clean sheets.

The boy had not let go of his forearm, but his grip didn't threaten to break his bones anymore, so he didn't say anything. With anyone else he wouldn't even have thought about letting them touch him, but that boy felt special. That kid was different, and he would be damned to hell if he didn't find out what made that brat so different.

He motioned for the kid to sit down and relax as far as its injuries permitted, finally getting his arm back as the kid released it almost hesitantly. Some ugly black and blue bruises started to form where the kid's fingers had dug into his flesh during surgery. The brat sure had a good grip, it wasn't easy to actually hurt Marduku.

The comdio blared some mindless babble out of the hidden speakers installed all over the room, almost hurting his sensitive ears. The boy also made a grimace, for him, it had to be even worse because he couldn't understand anything but the tone of the voice. Waiting for the synapses to build, Marduku leaned back against the wall with crossed arms, listening to the voices from the comdio talk about anything and everything, and keeping a keen eye on the now relaxed kid.

That brat would surely make a good warrior, he was strong and could deal with pain, and the way he had swatted the energy ball away in the Crimson Desert showed that he must have had quite a bit of combat experience; although his eyes made Marduku wonder how the brat could show such innocence and curiosity if he was a fighter. Warriors tended to age fast, their bloody business soon eradicated all childish behavior.

But the emptiness behind made Marduku shiver, he could not guess what had caused it as the boy wasn't dead, was he?

Suddenly, the boy got an attentive face and seemed to listen to something. A voice from the comdio was shouting:

"Attention all warriors, in a ten-day there will be a tournament to find a worthy trainer for Prince Vegeta. The winner of the tournament will have to fight against King Vegeta, and depending on his performance, he will get to train the prince in the art of fighting. Good luck to all you warriors out there. May the house of Vegeta-Sei always be victorious!"

The brat scrunched up its forehead, then spoke with only a small accent, confused eyes locked on Marduku.

"How ... What is Vegeta-Sei?"

He shook his head.

"I guess the chip has completed the connections. Come with me, I will get you to a regen-tank to heal your wounds. Afterwards, we will talk, and you can get your answers."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and left the room. The boy stumbled behind him through the maze of doors and hallways, almost too weak to hold himself upright. The further blood-loss could not have been very helpful, but Marduku offered no support. The brat was a warrior, and warriors did neither need nor accept any help, and offering help would imply that he thought the brat weak. No, the brat had to manage on its own.

Finally, they reached a dark chamber with three dome-shaped tanks lined up at the far wall. The only source of light, an old and flickering neon lamp, did nothing to illuminate the room, it gave the whole atmosphere a creepy undertone and accentuated the shadows between the regen-tanks. Even his voice sounded dark and mysterious, almost re-echoing from the shady, grey walls.

"Strip your clothes, the tank will heal you better when you are naked."

The kid complied without protest, and soon its clothes lay in a heap on the floor, its tail curled protectively around its waist. When the boy turned around to enter one of the regen-tanks, Marduku could see a whole map of strange scars covering every inch of his body, especially in the more sensitive regions. He had seen the scars on the brat's shoulders and arms before because they had not been covered by clothing, and he had thought them to be great in number. But the scarred tissue that was revealed beneath the clothes was a horrifying picture. Those were definitely no battle scars, and he had a small hunch of what else they could be: those scars looked as if the kid had been tortured thoroughly and for a long time, as some of them were already a pale white from age.

No wonder that the boy could deal with pain that easily, and no wonder that the brat behaved a little bit strange. The physical scars had to be only a part of the violation the boy had endured, and so far, Marduku had not been able to assess the mental damage yet. Perhaps that was the reason for the dead expression of the brat's eyes, maybe part of his mind had been killed during the torture. He would have to question the kid carefully when it came out of the regen-tank.

Seeing that the brat had trouble with the technology of the healing tank, he stepped closer and gently placed the breathing mask over the kid's face. Stepping back, he closed the dome to let the healing routine take its course. Slowly, the clear, green, bubbly liquid filled the tank and let the boy float. At first, the brat seemed troubled and tense, then it relaxed and closed its strangely empty eyes, falling into a deep slumber almost immediately.

Marduku winced as suddenly a monotonous computer voice beeped:

"Approximately five hours to full health"

and he left the room. He would have to wait for the boy to heal until he got his answers. In the mean time, he could do whatever he wanted. Grinning, he left in search for Toroku. Their sparring match had not been finished properly.

-----<<<<<>>>>>-----

dreaming / floating / flying

flashes too quick to follow

pictures / scenes passing by too fast to recognize

green grass / orange clothes / love

dome-shaped house / black hair / gentle face

golden hair / turquoise eyes / lots of anger

blue, crackling energy / smell of ozone / blinding fury and hate

blood red leather / short rod dangling from a chain / familiar feeling of

PAIN

/ just meaningless associations, having lost their value, ripped out like pictures of a photo album /But they have to mean something, it can't be accident that exactly those pictures are shown.

a young, lively girl with blond hair and startling blue eyes being raped by some blurry male over and over again, until she isn't sobbing anymore, until she is staring at a distant point with unfocused pupils that have shut out the world

a young, cheerful girl with blond hair and startling blue eyes being tortured by some blurry male over and over again, until she isn't sobbing anymore, until she is staring at a distant point with unfocused pupils that have shut out all feeling

a young, innocent girl with blond hair and startling blue eyes being broken by some blurry male over and over again, until she has learnt her lesson, until she is as hard and merciless as the blurry male

a tainted woman with blond hair and startling blue eyes raping, torturing, breaking some unrecognizable males over and over again, until they aren't sobbing anymore, until they are finally deadWho is the young girl / woman? Someone very important, but who?

He is hanging in shackles from the ceiling, his wrists raw and bleeding, but he is too far gone to notice any pain. His mind has closed itself off to not go insane from the steady bombarding of his senses. He has withdrawn himself to the only place in his mind that she/the young girl/the tainted woman cannot access even with the mental link that they share. But the walls around the place are too strong to be broken down, even by himself. If he had known any feeling in the enclosed space he was caught in, he would have laughed at the irony of the situation. He, one of the strongest fighters in the quadrant, has been defeated by none other that himself.

The soulless shell that has once been his body is still hanging from the ceiling, the wrists raw, and the blood is slowly trickling down its way to the ground.

Drop.

Drop.

Drop.

Slowly, the limp body is loosing its life.

Drop - drop - drop

The big crimson puddle of blood beneath its feet is growing.

Drop - drop - drop

Then I recognize it for the first time: That is my body

Drop - Drop - DRop - DROp - DROP - DROP - DROPP - DROPPP!

I wake up, trembling, my body paralyzed with fear, my scared heart beating hard and angry. My eyes snap open, and I am controlled by fear.

Drop - drop - drop

The horrible sound from my dream is haunting me, I am panting so fast that I am getting dizzy, and no rational thought is allowed in my brain.

Drop - Drop - Drop

I can feel a dense liquid running down my body, making a big puddle on the floor.

Drop - Drop - Drop - DROp - DROP

I want to get out of here, please let me get out of this insane madhouse!

Drop - Drop - DROp - DROP - DROPP - DROPPP

GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!

Glass is shattering in a rainbow of color, and it glitters in the neon light as I watch it sink down on the floor. Time seems to halt around me, and I can follow every shard of it on its course through the air, sometimes reflecting the light, sometimes breaking it in wonderful color-schemes. Everything is so peaceful, the flying, glittering glass is a magnificent wonder making me all tranquil, and the vibrating, ringing clings whenever two of them meet in the air is such an unearthly, harmonious sound. I have never heard anything like it before. Slowly, the shards are settle down on the ground, making the most wonderful music while glittering and gleaming in the light.

Suddenly, shouts from the corridor bring me back to reality, waking me up from my entranced state. I become aware of my surroundings for the first time, and I recognize it as the room I was brought to by the tall guy to heal from my wounds.

I am standing on a round platform that has once been covered by a glass dome which is lying in pieces all over the room now. I realize that I am stark naked, only my mouth and nose are covered by a breathing mask that I don't need any more. I rip it off my face and look for some decent clothing while the bedlam is coming closer. From the sound of it, the people are none too happy that I blew up one of their ... regen-tanks. Yeah, that is the word. So the chip is not only for translating. I will have to find out later on, what exactly that chip does - and if it can be located by a control-center.

They find me while I am still looking for something to cover myself with and they start ranting, shouting, and throwing insults at me. I feel really guilty for destroying one of their valuable regen-tanks and try to tell them that it was just an accident and that I didn't mean to do so. But they won't listen; their voices are mixing, coalescing, amplifying each other, until they are just a loud, threatening noise hurting my sensitive ears. They are all so angry, so mad at me.

One of them steps forward and is raising a hand.

Nooo! Please don't hit me! Nooo!

As if a switch had been turned in my brain, my body wrenches control from my mind, and I cower in a corner of the room, not aware of the sharp glass fragments that pierce my bare feet. They stand around me, screaming down at me, making me flinch and curl up in a fetal position, hugging my legs, my furry tail wrapped around my left ankle very hard.

I bury my face in my knees and can only repeat -no-, -no-, -no-, like a broken machine caught in an endless loop. It is all my fault. My fault that perhaps a being in need of healing will die from its wounds. MY FAULT!

I start trembling uncontrollable. It is my fault. I have destroyed the regen-tank. My fault. Always mine.

A strong hand is stroking my head softly.

But it is my fault, somebody could die because of my careless actions.

The strong hand is comforting and reassuring me.

Although I have destroyed the regen-tank and don't deserve it. So I try to scurry away from the warm fingers.

But the strong hand doesn't go away, no, it is joined by a strong, warm arm that wraps around my shoulders, immobilizing me completely.

I am being held.

What an unusual, but comforting feeling. After some time, the terror lessens a bit, and I am able to relax and look up at the owner of the arm and the hand. He is kneeling besides me, hiding me from all danger.

I manage to suppress a shudder at the grim visage and the furrowed eyebrows of the otherwise quite handsome face. But the glare and the anger of the glittering black eyes isn't directed towards me, it is directed towards the unconscious people on the floor covered in small, sharp glass shards. I recognize them as the people that have attacked me earlier.

I start stuttering and stammering:

"B-But it-t w-w-as-s m-m-mmy fault!"

He looks at me and asks calmly.

"What was your fault?"

"I have destroyed the regen-tank..."

He is clearly confused. He is studying the glass fragments littering the floor.

"You mean that was you?"

Ashamed, I can only nod my head and look down to the linoleum floor, expecting a violent lashing, be it verbal or physical. Nobody could like someone who was guilty of causing death.

I feel two soft fingers making contact with my chin, pulling it upwards so that I am forced to look into his kind onyx eyes. I am preparing myself for a blow, but it never comes.

He is talking in a soothing voice that you would use on a frightened animal to calm it down.

"Do you know why they were so excited? It is because nobody has been able to break a regen-tank before. The tanks are made of a very durable material and are intended to withstand the strongest warriors. You must possess extraordinary strength to even crack one."

I am not quite sure about what he had just said. It hadn't been difficult to break the regen-tank, heck, I have done that half asleep, and I don't feel winded at all.

Suddenly, an alarm inside me goes off and starts to shrill that somebody is coming and will arrive here in less than a minute. I immediately stand up and erect a proud facade, not wanting to be caught showing my emotions.

The man kneeling next to me seems confused at my sudden mood swing, but utters no word at my question about some suitable clothes. Instead, he opens part of the wall and reaches for a pile of spandex, armor, and boots on a shelf that is being revealed behind the wall panel. It is the same kind of black uniform as the tall guy from the red desert has been wearing and I am asking myself where he is now.

Hell, I should be asking other questions, e. g. where am I, who are you, and most importantly, who am I?

But for the moment, I am busy fighting with the spandex. I have really no clue how to get it on, the only holes I can see are the holes for my five limbs and the one for my head, no zipper, no buttons, no nothing. Helplessly, I look towards the young, friendly man who has comforted me.

His full mouth is twitching slightly, his eyes are sparkling with hidden laughter, and I have to admit that the situation is indeed a little bit funny. I, whom he has indirectly declared one of the strongest warriors on the planet, cannot get a simple piece of black spandex to fit onto my body.

"You are not from this planet, are you?"

His question touches a nerve deep in my soul. Something tells me that he is right and that I don't belong here, but I do look like the natives of this species. I have black, spiky hair, black eyes, a brown tail, 2 arms, two legs, and I can fight.

Still, I do not belong here. I don't speak their language, I am not familiar with their technology, and I have no clue of their customs.

Suddenly, my head whips towards the entrance, and a second later, the tall guy from the desert is stepping in. He raises an eyebrow at the mess and assumes:

"I suppose it was you who is responsible for the chaos here. Get some clothes and follow me, we have to register you and your strength and we will have to run a full medical check on you."

With those words, he turns on the spot and marches out of the door again. I just gape at his retreating back in confusion, he did not seem as if he was angry at all. Before I can fully comprehend the message, my thoughts are interrupted.

"Hey, you are really lucky, pal! Not everybody survives his first encounter with General Marduku. He must have a thing for you, I have never heard that he cared so much about someone from off-planet."

I am ashamed that I have completely forgotten about the nice person who has comforted me just a few moments ago. To cover it up, I ask back

"You think so?"

He obviously finds my question hilarious as he his bending over in laughter. I frown a little bit, because I don't exactly like being laughed at, and my question was rhetorical, not intended as a joke. Crossing my arms, I lean back against the closed wall panel, a scowl set on the edges of my lips.

A feeling of familiarity washes over me, it is something about my stance that I must have seen before, but the thought is as hard to catch as a wet soap bar, and it constantly evades my grasp. Sighing frustrated, I give up the chase after several futile attempts.

The laughing man must have thought that the sound was directed at him, because he hastily regains his composure and clears his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, I don't think you should keep General Marduku waiting any longer. He is not the most patient Saiyajin I know. Oh, and for the spandex and the armor: Just stretch the neckline wide enough, then you should have no problem getting in."

I try out his advice, and in no time the spandex covers me like a second skin. Only my tail poses a small problem, but I finally manage to wiggle it through the hole. Flashing him a grateful smile and a quick thanks, I put on the armor and sit down for the boots. First, I have to clean away all the glass fragments away that have dug themselves into my soles, but then the boots are a comfortable fit. Fully clothed, I rise from the floor and head towards General Marduku's location. I am interrupted again by the young, friendly man.

"Eh, are you sure you are going in the right direction? General Marduku went out the other door!"

I scrunch up my forehead in confusion. But then why am I so sure that General Marduku is waiting behind the door in front of me? My instincts are practically screaming at me that I just have to remove the wooden barrier to be face to face with the General, and I am not surprised either when the door opens on its own accord, revealing a quite pissed general.

"Are you done babbling yet? I don't have all day!"

I meekly nod and follow his retreating back, not seeing the stunned and awed expression of the nice man left behind in a room littered with unconscious bodies, sharp glass fragments and a few tiny droplets of my blood.

A/N: So is the story getting less confusing? Do you like it / hate it? Got any ideas for further parts? Write a review!!