Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Broken Seal ❯ Knock Knock ( Chapter 9 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Krillin made no attempt to hide his amazement. Looking on with eyes wide and jaw hanging, he stared yet deeper into the ghostly form that hovered before him.

As the enigmatic fighter faded in from near black, his familiar features began to assert themselves. Indeed, this individual bore a startling resemblance to the caustic prince Vegeta. However, as the similarities argued in favour of Krillin's original theory, the dissimilarities began to raise a valid counterpoint.

This Vegeta seemed larger in stature than that he had seen go to his death on Namek. Also, the hair, though dark, was not the jet-black crest he was familiar with, but rather a deep brown one. These features did present a convincing case, but it was the face of the man that had the final word. The area around the fighter's small, taut mouth was shrouded beneath a ruffled goatee. Furthermore, this face was not the portrait of anger and arrogance, charged with the energy of youth that Krillin had known. This was the face of a man advanced in age both physically and mentally. His skin clung closely to the hard-edged bone structure that lay beneath, and lines that ran parallel above piercing eyes accentuated the contours of his forehead.

The fighter's garments were also similar to those of the Vegeta that Krillin knew. A thick blue overall clung tightly to the King's musculature, and his chest was bound in an artificial carapace of off-white and tan coloration. In contrast however, the breastplate, dented and cleaved, bore several tarnished fragments of metallic ornamentation. Possibly the remnants of what was once royal finery, these broken decorations now merely served as fair warning to any who might dare run afoul of the authorities of this world.

One particular decoration caught Krillin's eye. A broach, rendered in hues of tainted gold, and mimicking the splendour of a mighty starburst in form, though not in lustre, was applied at the King's right shoulder blade. From around its dull, metal corona protruded a small shred of crimson fabric. This was probably the remains of a dramatic cape, long since claimed by the torments of the world below.

Even if Krillin couldn't be sure of the fighter's true identity, there was one thing that was quite apparent. Though he was clearly a formidable warrior, this man was little more than a battered remnant of his former, resplendent self.

Then, it hit him. King Vegeta.

Up until this point, Krillin had been unable to identify this new fighter, having been thrown off by his title. Now however, it was the pairing of the familiar name and the unfamiliar designation that had stirred a memory from the recesses of his mind. He was reminded of the story with which Frieza had regaled him and Gohan during their stint on Namek. It had been with that anecdote that the frightful monster had sought to enrage Vegeta into an attack; the story of the destruction of the Saiyan's father at the vile tyrant's wicked hand.

Krillin's thoughtful expression dissolved seamlessly into a reiterative cast of astonishment. Was this the character that had figured so prominently in Frieza's story? Was this the monarch who's end had marked the downfall of one of the most formidable warrior races ever to have prowled the universe? Could this truly be the deceased patriarch of prince Vegeta?

Aghast, Krillin drew breath with the intention of fielding a question, though he did not yet know what that question would be. However, he refrained as he realised that King Vegeta's attention was no longer focused on him. The monarch's piercing eyes were now directed towards the fuming hollow that cradled the comatose Zarbon.

"Foul minion of Frieza." He growled, "If only you were not already dead."

From the hateful tone of his words, it was clear that his only regret at having scorched the corrupt fighter was that the strike had not been a deathblow.

Krillin too was now gazing down upon the strangely restful looking warrior. The sight filled him with apprehension, as he wondered how long it would be before he came around. Krillin dared not speculate as to his disposition upon waking.

"You!"

Krillin's thoughts were interrupted by the coarse tones of the Saiyan's voice. Whipping his gaze upwards, he met the fearsome gaze of King Vegeta with a renewed trepidation.

"You will take me to the Ogre who rules this place!" the King commanded.

Krillin swallowed in a laboured manner before answering. It seemed that this Vegeta was no more compromising than the one he had known in life. Scraping together what few seconds he thought he could afford before the King lost his patience, he debated the wisdom of taking him to where he wanted to go. After all, there was little doubt that he had originated from the same unholy realm as Zarbon, and there was no telling what his motives were. On the other hand this man had just saved him, if not in life, then in soul. For that, Krillin did owe the regal fighter something.

Krillin resolved to take Vegeta to King Yemma, deciding that if there were going to be a problem it would be nothing the formidable ogre couldn't handle. Besides, Yemma must have dealt with Vegeta before.

"Er, sure.okay." Krillin replied, meekly.

He then paused for a split second, leaving space for some thanks from the sovereign. Then, realising he was fighting a losing cause, he continued,

"Um, this way."

He then gestured towards the horizon. Warily, Krillin turned from Vegeta and slowly cruised away. As he coasted off towards Yemma's office, he could feel the energy of the King as he engaged in a passive pursuit.

It seemed that Vegeta was not aware of how to get to where one was going on this plane, apparently believing that direction was still a factor in navigation here. Though Krillin knew this not to be the case, he continued on regardless, having decided that it was in his best interest not to instruct the King in this technique, thus preventing Vegeta from rushing off ahead of him. After all, he needed all the backup he could get.

As the two made their way to the offices of King Yemma, Krillin began to reanalyse the events that had just transpired with a cool mind. The one thing that stood out from the limited exchange he had had with Vegeta was the fact that the King seemed unconcerned at the fact that he knew his name, even though neither he nor Zarbon had themselves spoken it. Krillin was soon able to rationalise this, however. With Vegeta having been King of a race that had terrorised an entire universe, it was certain that there were many plebeians who knew him by name, and reputation, without ever having set eyes upon him.

One other thing struck him as odd, though. If this man had truly been a mighty ruler of entire worlds, where was his entourage? Where were all the escorts, servants and general hangers-on that one might expect to see trailing royalty? He thought that perhaps hell would take some toll on their numbers, but there wasn't even so much as a body guard in sight. With almost the entire race having been destroyed simultaneously, there was a fair chance that those who had been condemned, and that would probably have been most of them, had all remained together. Nevertheless, these were not questions that Krillin would dare ask for fear that they might be perceived as disrespectful. The last thing he needed was another powerful fighter with a grudge against him.

The journey was accompanied by the same unsettling sounds as before, but little else. King Vegeta was proving somewhat less talkative than his son, leaving Krillin with only distant detonations and cries of horror for company. Also, the fighter found it unnerving that Vegeta insisted on flying above him, staying out of his line of sight. More than once he had attempted to move up alongside the sovereign, but each time his attempts had been thwarted as Vegeta stubbornly retained his lofty position, above that which he obviously considered a subordinate.

Being a patient soul, if nothing else, Krillin had let it go without fuss, simply assuming that it must be a 'King thing'. The awkward lack of discourse was now beginning to work slightly on the fighter's nerves, however. Goaded on by his need for amiable conversation to overcome his nervousness of Vegeta, he reluctantly chose to speak.

"Um, thanks for helping me out back there." He said in the most inoffensive manner he could, "Things were starting to look a bit hairy there for minute."

Krillin's words of thanks were met with a chilly silence that rivalled the cool breeze for frigidity. The fighter realised then that Vegeta was only going to speak to his 'inferior' if absolutely necessary, and only if it was he who initiated the exchange. Krillin gave some thought to bringing up the Saiyan's son as a talking point, but quickly dismissed the idea. He decided that it would not be wise, as he did not know whether the King was aware of what had become of the prince, nor did he know how Vegeta might react to hearing of his son's fate.

Surrendering his short-lived pursuit of a discussion with the tight-lipped monarch, Krillin resigned himself to what would doubtless be a very long journey.

Krillin drew a discrete sigh of relief as the imposing building that housed King Yemma's office emerged over the horizon, heralding the imminent end of his long, awkwardly quiet journey with King Vegeta.

Krillin glanced up at Vegeta. The King was still cruising several meters above, and a few feet behind him. He did not return the fighter's glance.

"We're almost there." Krillin informed Vegeta.

The monarch gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Krillin looked back towards the approaching building, willing it towards him so that this painfully dull voyage might end.

The scene that surrounded the palatial office buildings was somewhat different to what it had been the last time Krillin had visited. The long path that traced its way across the tidily mown courtyard was now empty. The shimmering souls that had queued for the attention of King Yemma, some more patiently than others, were nowhere to be seen. As well as the souls, the demon that had shepherded them was also gone. The building now stood alone, the huge metal rings on its doors staring out across the deserted gardens like lonely eyes searching for companionship with a poignant hopelessness.

Krillin touched down on the concrete path at the office doors, the fall of his feet echoing weakly from the towering walls before him. From behind came the more pronounced sound of King Vegeta's boots striking the ground.

Krillin paused briefly, and looked back towards Vegeta. The regal fighter did not meet his gaze. Instead he stood motionless, chest out and straightened arms pointing at the ground with tightly clenched fists, looking up at the looming doorway. His proud posture made him a picture of irony, a noble figure draped in modest rags.

It appeared that Vegeta expected Krillin to knock for attention, and it did not appear that he believed he should have to ask for this favour. Turning away with a weary sigh, Krillin stepped up to the door. Though Vegeta's superior mannerisms had previously been somewhat intimidating to the fighter, they were now becoming tiresome.

Raising a clenched fist, Krillin rapped gently on the varnished surface of the door. This resulted in a bass rumble that resonated through the thick wood. Startled, the fighter quickly retracted his hand, taken aback as the pitch and volume of the sound were in stark contrast to the careful strikes he had made. He waited a few seconds as the rumble dispersed through the thick woodwork. There was no answer. Stepping up to the door once more, Krillin struck it several times, this time with a little more impetus. His knocking again went unanswered.

Krillin was about to make his third attempt to attract some attention, when he felt a pressure on his right shoulder. Before he had the opportunity look down to inspect its source, the pressure increased dramatically.

"Step aside!" Vegeta snarled, sweeping the surprised fighter away with his right hand.

Krillin reeled to his right under the force, tripping upon his own heels as he went. After having half staggered, half run several meters, the fighter regained his balance.

"Hey!" he barked at the presumptuous monarch, forgetting in that moment of anger who was the stronger of the two.

His protest went deliberately unnoticed, however.

Vegeta now stood before the doors, glaring up at them with an indignant frown. He raised a clenched fist, and drove it against the unsuspecting portal. The lament of the quivering wood rang out across the courtyard, its intensity causing the rigid concrete beneath Krillin's feet to throw a mild fit. The thundering vibrations were long lived, persisting for some seconds before finally settling down.

There followed several seconds of silence. The lack of response to Vegeta's pounding of the door gave Krillin some measure of satisfaction. He watched with quiet gratification as the King became increasingly perturbed by his failed bid for attention.

Vegeta raised his hand once more, and assaulted the defenceless door with an increased fervour, the roar of the convulsing wood relaying his desire for an audience King Yemma. Again, his efforts went unanswered.

Krillin's enjoyment of Vegeta's chagrin was beginning to waver as he could sense his rage building. Cautiously, he began to approach Vegeta, Fearing for what the incensed King may do next.

"Let me pass!" Vegeta demanded of whoever might be on the other side of the door, whilst simultaneously beating upon its surface.

There was no reply.

"Uh. . . maybe we should come back later." Krillin suggested, attempting to defuse Vegeta's explosive temper.

However, as before, Vegeta had little time for the fighter's input.

A few seconds elapsed as Vegeta continued to glare upwards at the door. He then looked down to the section of the door directly ahead. Krillin relaxed slightly, as it seemed the King may be ready to surrender, for now. He then sensed a change. It was Vegeta's ki. Krillin was overcome with apprehension once more as the Saiyan's energy began to swell. He retreated a step as Vegeta raised his hand in a deliberate and ominous manner, drawing his closed fist up as high as his shoulder, and then holding it in place.

"I said. . . let me pass!" Vegeta roared.

His forceful words corresponded to a sudden rush of power that surged from within the impatient king. In that instant, Vegeta's raised fist was engulfed in hissing blue aura, the warmth from which Krillin could feel even from his position several meters away. With a howl of uncontrolled frustration, Vegeta drove his hand forward.

The sound that radiated from the point of impact almost shook Krillin from his feet as it tore through the air around him. It reverberated through every part of him, and caused his ears to issue sharp signals of pain. The fighter pressed his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to protect them.

After a few painful seconds, the volume of the sound began to wane, gradually sinking down below an audible level. Cautiously, Krillin pulled his hands away from his ears, which still rang with the remnants of the impact. Relaxing his face from the grimace that it had been baring, he looked over at King Vegeta. The king now stood at the threshold of the door, breathing a little heavily after his outward display of displeasure. The door itself was open, having apparently yielded to Vegeta's less than gentle persuasion.

Having granted himself some time to gather his composure, Vegeta strode across the threshold.

"I guess we'll let ourselves in." Krillin muttered as the King disappeared out of sight.

The fighter shrugged his shoulders, and followed suit.

--------------------------------- The next chapter's going to be a fairly long one. After that, it'll be all brand spankin' new material.