Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Black and White ❯ 12 ( Chapter 12 )

"I like to play fair," a voice boomed from behind them, and they all froze, breakfasts at various levels of being polished off. "So I'll wait until you finish eating before we fight. Oh," Cell raised his eyebrows as if surprised, "Gohan, pleased to see you here. I look forward to fighting you." He sounded outright jovial—and Goku shoveled food into his mouth faster, if such a thing was possible.

 

"I'm not fighting," Gohan spoke, spoon quivering between his fingers.

 

"We'll see. You might have to if your father can't get the job done," he taunted.

 

Goku slammed his empty bowl down, standing and grinning. "I'm gonna beat you Cell, don't worry! And I'm not gonna die this time, neither!" He glanced toward Vegeta, who kept his eyes trained on his food.

 

"Dad," Gohan stood, carefully pushing his chair in. "I'm going to get mother and Videl, and bring them up here, so that they're safe. The others, too—they should know what's going on, even if they're not fighting."

 

Goku nodded, and Piccolo gave Gohan a reassuring smirk.

 

"I don't think so," Cell nearly shouted, moving in front of him, and continued more smoothly, "I assure you, they will be safe."

 

"Move," Gohan steeled himself, willing his shaking muscles to still.

 

When Cell didn't do as Gohan commanded, Vegeta glanced up and barked, "You heard the man! Get the hell out of his way or we'll do away with you before Kakarrot gets to have all his fun." Gohan raised his eyebrows at the prince—since when did Vegeta refer to him as a man?—and ducked past Cell as the creature stood still.

 

"Thanks," Gohan waved, leaping from the platform.

 

As Cell continued to stand still, crossing his arms and watching the others, Shallot strode up to him, walking around him and grimacing. "Ugh. To think that I was inside the likes of you!" she spat on his foot.

 

"Shallot," Vejata warned, bringing herself to her feet.

 

"He is pretty damn gross," Cole added, rising and balling her fists as the being locked eyes with her. Goten pulled her back, shaking his head.

 

"Are you all ready, then?" Cell finally spoke, tapping his foot as if he didn't notice the saliva that rested upon it. "I don't see anyone still eating."

 

Piccolo held up a glass of water, and Goten and Trunks snickered. Taking a slow sip from the glass, he rapped his fingers on the table, stealing a sideways glance at the children. He set the glass down carefully. "Shall we?"

 

"Me first!" Goku hopped back and forth. "Lemme stretch!"

 

Snorting, Vegeta turned away, motioning for the others to follow him. Bulma gave him a short kiss and a warning glare—don't die—and joined Dende in waving them off. She pulled her son into a hug as he passed. "Don't let your father do anything stupid," she ruffled his hair, "and don't you do anything stupid, either."

 

"Don't worry," he gave her a thumbs-up. "We'll be okay." He took off with Goten and Cole.

 

Vejata narrowed her eyes at Shallot. "Remember what I said."

 

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes. "I ain't some moron. I've got a particular interest in not dying forever." Waving one hand to dismiss the queen, Shallot followed the children. Vejata turned to Bulma, and the human woman noticed her eyes focusing away in thought for a moment.

 

"You're going too, right?" Bulma asked after a moment.

 

"Yeah," she answered absently. "I am going. Don't worry."

 

"I wasn't—"

 

"I don't know what will happen after this," Vejata spoke quickly.

 

Bulma shrugged. "Do any of us? Anyway, Son seems confident enough. And after the battle—we can see about wishing your girlfriend back."

 

Vejata smirked a little. "Yes, we'll see."

 

"You seem to get along with her," she smiled. "It must feel nice, if you're finally at peace."

 

She seemed thoughtful. "It will, I think." Vejata seemed to snap back into awareness as Goku, now warmed-up, hopped off the edge, rocketing after his friends. "I'd best hurry."

 

"Yeah. Good luck!"

 

Vejata smirked and lifted her fingers to her brow.

 

 

...

 

 

"Are you done warming up?" Cell nearly laughed. "Come on, Son Goku. I know what you have up your sleeve—Super Saiyajin level three."

 

"Yeah," Goku grinned. "Y' got me. All right, so you really wanna see it, huh?" He turned to the others. "Just gimme a few more minutes fighting Cell on my lonesome, okay? You guys can join in after I show 'im what a Super Saiyajin three can do!"

 

Vegeta seemed to grumble something from the ground below, and Piccolo knelt down to speak with Goten and Trunks. Cole listened in as well, and Vejata stepped up next to Vegeta, Shallot behind her.

 

"I can't tell," Vejata spoke quietly as Goku powered up. "Which is stronger?"

 

"Cell," Vegeta answered, shifting his gaze to her. He supposed that on the battlefield, she had to forget how viciously he had killed her, and he himself had to forget what she had done to him—and Goku. As he himself had been when the Earthlings faced Freeza and the others on Namek, now she was simply a calculated risk—albeit a much more useless one than he had been. Vegeta supposed that unless she had trained strenuously in Hell, on her best day the queen could match Piccolo.

 

Maybe she wasn't really putting aside what he had done to her, upon his return from Earth—her violent death. But maybe she didn't need to; it seemed enough that she had expected it. And without the weight of her planet on her shoulders, she seemed—tamer. He shook himself. He, too, was tamer—far tamer than he had been when he'd first come to Earth. He blamed Bulma, and Goku, and most especially his son for it. But he had never been stronger than when provoked by something involving them.

 

And now, it seemed, she had someone to blame for it too—this new woman, this Shallot. Vejata was alive—would she wish this woman back? Would the flurry of nervousness he saw in Goku every time she neared him abate as she settled down?

 

Cell roared, drawing out his new power to display to the lookers-on as Goku pulled himself from the ground, smirking, and teleported behind Cell to hold him against himself, twisting the creature's shoulders back—but Cell chortled, disappeared, and subjected Goku to the same. From the hold, Goku charged a ki blast in his hands, twisting his wrist covertly to fire it through Cell, who leapt back. He grunted as he tapped into Piccolo's powers, and Goku could feel his power drop slightly as the hole healed and the blood, its odd consistency, stopped flowing out. As it healed, though, Cell's eyes widened, and he clutched at his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, midsection apparently convulsing.

 

"Now!" came Piccolo's distant call from below, and short moments later Gotenks joined Goku in the air, laughing. "Do it!" he called.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Gotenks chortled. "Calm your purple little pants down. I've got this!" He charged a disk in his hand—a ring—and threw it, watching as it settled neatly around Cell. "Ringer!" he cheered and pumped his fist in the air, and the ring collapsed onto Cell, encircling him ever tighter until his eyes bulged. Coughing violently, Cell struggled to push the ring from himself, and felt his hands singe. A small body erupted from his throat and plummeted to the ground.

 

Immediately, Gotenks was distracted—his eyes narrowed, and his upper lip lifted in disgust at the being as it pulled itself to its feet. "You," he hissed, and then cracked his knuckles, "or should I say, one of you." The young copy of Vegeta growled. "I doubt you'll put up much of a fight on your lonesome, hm?" He chuckled a little. The Vegeta burst from the ground, and landed a solid punch to Gotenks' gut, the fusion too surprised at his speed to move. "Shit," he muttered. Catching his breath, Gotenks smirked. "All right. Let's see if you can take this!" Focusing, he began powering up.

 

"You'll use up all your time!" Piccolo shouted from below, but Gotenks was deaf to his words. The boy soared across the sky, and the young Vegeta followed.

 

Cell huffed, recovering from the grip of the ring as it faded away from him. Goku smirked, and took up his usual stance. He was beginning to feel the strain on his body from the triple-ascended form, and Cell seemed worn, too—but it was beginning to seem unlikely that he would be able to finish it on his own. Before Cell could attack, he dropped his pose and flickered out of the form, back to his usual state. "Hey, Vegeta!" he called. "Wanna switch off like we did with Buu?"

 

"Goku!" Piccolo answered before Vegeta would speak. "We'd best attack him all at once!"

 

"Aw, but—"

 

"You agreed," the Namekian reminded him.

 

"Don't be foolish!" Vejata added, and Goku winced.

 

Cole hopped up to Piccolo. "Think I could try 'im?"

 

"Hardly."

 

"I can do the fuse thing—"

 

"Goten and Trunks are elsewhere."

 

"Whaddabout—whaddabout you?" she cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Just 'cause I'm a kid don't mean I can't fight!"

 

"Our body types are far too different," he muttered, imagining what a mess such a fusion would be. "Besides, you're not well-practiced—it would be a huge risk. If you messed up—"

 

"But I wanna try it!" she whined, glancing first at Vegeta, who narrowed his eyes, and then at Vejata. "Even if it was with the stupid bitch of a queen."

 

"Hell no," Vejata spat. But Piccolo arched one brow, thoughtful.

 

"Your heights aren't so different..." he muttered. "You're both Saiyajin...and if the fusion fails, none of our key fighters will be out of commission." Cole blew him a raspberry and Vejata lowered her gaze, frowning.

 

"Maybe you'll come out lookin' as young as me," Shallot grinned. Vejata punched her halfheartedly, growling. In her time in Hell, Shallot hadn't aged—looked not a day older than she had when she'd died some twenty years before.

 

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered. "We age so slowly. I hardly look older than you..."

 

Shallot just laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Vegeta...but I see them wrinkles. You worry too much an' don't fight enough, I'd bet." She glanced up and down the woman, "Tho', you sure got some more muscle since last I saw you."

 

"Look here," Cole stepped forward, nudging one finger against Vejata's chest, "you killed my dad an' I'll still fuse with you, I wanna try so bad, got it? So stop being such a stuck-up bitch an' do it."

 

"Fuck—whatever. Fine," she growled, giving Piccolo a sidelong glare. "I'll do it."

 

 

...

 

 

"Told you ya wouldn't last long," Gotenks grinned, gripping the Vegeta by his shoulders. His expression darkened. "But the real question is, should I kill you?"

 

The Saiyajin struggled silently.

 

"I could do like you did," he spoke quietly, "maybe rip off your leg, or maybe grab two of your fingers and split your arm up the middle."

 

He struggled harder.

 

"I could do it quick." Gotenks released the Saiyajin. "I could let you go." The Vegeta was frozen in place, shocked. "But you're not good like I am," he finished. "And you've killed lots of people. I doubt we can trust you." In a blink, he held the Vegeta against himself again. "Yeah, maybe this is really the best way," his hands wandered up to the Saiyajin's head. "Nice and quick, and you can't hurt anyone ever again."

 

The Vegeta's fists clenched, and he braced himself. A searing brightness from behind, he thought, was his end—but he turned around as the feeling of hands against his head faded.

 

"Shoot," Trunks muttered. "Goten, we were gonna..." The other boy shivered and nodded, and they turned to look the copy in the eye. Were the same age? But how many deaths had this Vegeta put on his list throughout his life? Was he better than the others—was he worse? Was he the one who had killed one of them? How had the fusion between Vegeta and Vejata killed this one?

 

"So do it," the Vegeta spoke, finally—and Trunks shuddered at hearing his father in the boy's voice. Would the Vegeta he knew have been like this if left unchecked?

 

"But I thought if somebody dies when they're already dead, they're gone forever?" Goten muttered, glancing at Trunks.

 

"Yeah," he nodded. "Vejata didn't want the other chick to die."

 

"You don't have it in you," the copy smirked a little, his voice wild, its accent making the words nearly unintelligible. "You were a better warrior—when you were one person."

 

Goten shook his head vigorously, but Trunks nodded. "It's not the same, to be a good warrior and a good person," he answered. "Not always." He steeled his gaze. "I wanna be a great fighter, but I don't wanna be like—"

 

"Your father," the Vegeta's smirk widened.

 

"Like he used to be."

 

"What he is."

 

"No. Y'know what? No—he cares about me, and Mom, and—and he's better now. And—and even Vejata—she's even—I mean—they did awful things—but—" he balled his fists. "There's good in my dad."

 

"Not enough."

 

"He's a hero."

 

"But not you. He would have killed me by now." The copy crossed his arms. "But you can't—so—your turn."

 

"No!" Goten shouted. "Heroes don't—they're—I—"

 

"I live," his eyes widened, "you die."

 

Goten gasped as he saw a familiar gleam in the copy's eyes, and his next breath refused to move past his throat. This—this was the one who had killed him. He closed his eyes, not sure what to do, and waited. He felt warmth wrapping around him, and tried not to try to work out whether it was a kinder presence, or a sheet of his own blood—or worse. But the arms that wrapped around his shoulders held him, panicked breathing of someone beside him pounded into his eardrum, nervous fingers curled around his upper arm, nearly digging in, and a familiar pulse comforted him.

 

"Like hell he will," someone snarled from behind them. Trunks held Goten so that he continued to face away from the scene, and from the corner of his eye he saw a bright light, felt a crackling heat, heard a truncated scream. The boys turned around to see the woman as she pulled herself into a confident stance, arms crossed. She eyed them for a moment—and Trunks knew that Vejata was a part of this being, the gaze somehow apologetic. The first time she'd fused with someone, it had led to— "You boys can't wait for somebody to save you all the time," she muttered, eyes glimmering with condescension as she turned away. "I'm going back to the real fight, now."

 

"Should we—" Trunks started.

 

"Don't fight," she asserted solemnly, before bursting into a grin again. "You can't handle it, anyway."