Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Crowned Evil ❯ Betrayal ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 3: Betrayal

"Namek," greeted the Saiyajin no Ouji as Piccolo landed in front of the pool of Capsule Corporations. Vejita rested in a lounge chair, wearing a long pair of sweatpants. A long white bandage was rested around his stomach and was stained red in many places. One arm was thrown over his eyes. Piccolo frowned as he looked over the worn senshi. It was still nighttime. Dawn would be approaching in a few hours. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Vejita's lips drew back in a smirk, his fangs showing beneath his pale lips. "This is my home, Namek. I can do as I please."

Piccolo growled and shoved the question aside. He had more important issues than wondering why Vejita was moon bathing. He stepped forward and snatched out, reaching for the Saiyajin's throat to hoist him into the air. He should have known better. His fist was caught in the iron grip of the Super Saiyajin and twisted in a very painful manner. The bone snapped within his skin, causing Piccolo to roar. Vejita stood, wincing somewhat as his wound was again reopened beneath the bandages. Whether self-inflicted during training or cause by Gohan, Piccolo didn't know, and if the later was true, he didn't want to know. He ripped his fist from the grasp of the more powerful and drew back a few steps, clutching the wounded appendage. Vejita smirked again. "What's wrong, Namek. Did I hurt your chibi wrist."

"What have you done to Gohan?" he roared, trying to keep his voice from shaking as the bones within his wrist tried fruitlessly to mend themselves. The bone was shattered in an uncountable number of pieces. Vejita frowned and folded his arms over his torso, careful to avoid his own injury. "I've given the boy a door. It's his choice to open it."

"Gohan killed a man!" Piccolo roared, dropping his wound. The pain that shot through his arm was ignored. He stepped forward, ki blast burning in his good hand. It wouldn't be much use, he knew, but his rage was uncontrollable. He needed to do something, to hurt someone… anything! Something needed to be punished for the life that Gohan had taken!

Vejita only continued to grin. If anything, that smirk grew more evil and pleased. "Really? He killed a man? Tell me about it. I want every gory detail."

Piccolo unleashed. He rushed forward, swinging and kicking madly. Every strike was countered or blocked. He didn't know what passed through his panicked and enraged mind. He couldn't defeat Nappa years ago, why did he think he had any chance against Vejita, who was not only twice the power level of Nappa back then, but also now a Super Saiyajin and Gokou's worst and most challenging enemy? Still, his rage burned and was equal to that of any Super Saiyajin, ascended or not. They rose into the sky, struggling with each other. Ki blasts shot at each other and landed across the nearby cities. Neither of them cared to think about the innocents that slumbered in their bed as their fate came to them, delivered in small holy balls of energy. Explosions echoed the streets. Firefighters and police officers rushed towards the scenes. Screams of those who lost loved ones soon began to fill the night sky. It was only when Bulma rushed out of Capsule Corporations with the infant Trunks in her arms did the two bother to pause, exhausted and even more wounded than before.

Piccolo watched as Vejita cracked his neck, breathing heavily, though not labored. Piccolo, on the other hand, had sweat pouring off his forehead. Oddly colored blood coated his chest. His cape was ripped and torn in various places, stained with the blood of himself and his foe. Bulma screamed in rage from below, but went ignored, while the cries of her son echoed in the night. Vejita snarled down at her to shut the boy up, but she only countered his screams with her own.

"You're going to regret it," Piccolo whispered after a moment as Bulma stormed back into the house. Vejita's eyes turned from the doorway and fell upon the wounded and exhausted, and inevitably defeated green alien. Piccolo allowed his chin to rise as pride filled him. Wasn't it obvious? Wasn't the solution more plausible than any scheme that the Saiyajin no Ouji may posses? Piccolo chuckled softly, cracking his shoulder as the dislocated bone replaced itself. "Yeah, Vejita, you're going to regret it."

Vejita frowned deeply at him. "What are you talking about, Namek? I've created the perfect senshi, one more powerful that even Kakarrotto, or Cell, or any demon that could come to challenge us in the future. He's perfect, and he belongs to me."

Piccolo snorted, spitting blood to the side. "Indeed, you've unleashed the perfect senshi, perhaps, but you don't control Gohan. No one has ever controlled Gohan. No one has ever needed to. He has no loyalties, and I believe that if even I got in his way now, he wouldn't hesitate to kill me." Piccolo turned his back to the wide-eyed prince as his words began to settle in the callous man's heart. With a smirk growing in his soul, Piccolo took into the night.

~*~

"Gohan! Gohan, where do you think you're going?" Chichi demanded as she stormed into the hallway where Gohan was walking. The little Son turned with a frown, holding the scraps of his purple gi in his arms. Instead of that beloved outfit, he wore a simple pair of jeans and a large black shirt. His feet were bare, soft skin caressing the cold wooden floors. He glared at his mother in annoyance. Over all that had happened in the past eleven years he'd been alive, she still believed that she controlled every tiny aspect of his existence. Not yet, he reminded himself with a mental smile. Not just yet.

"Vejita wanted me to come over again today. I'll be at Capsule Corporations all afternoon. Goodbye." With those simple sentences run together, Gohan turned and darted out of the door before his mother's inevitable shriek came after him, forbidding him from going. It was an early Saturday morning, and the dew was just beginning to fade off the grass. The air around was chilly, a cool breeze drifting through the air. It increased around Gohan as he soared through the brightly blue skies, his speed undetectable by possible observers below.

In mere minutes he arrived in the city, landing with a quiet thud of his bare feet against the pathway to the entrance of Capsule Corporations. Gohan stepped through the doors, closing it behind him, and Mirai Trunks, who turned around with the phone against his ear, instantly greeted him. He brightened a great deal and waved cheerfully. Gohan returned the smile and held up the garment, mouthing 'Bulma'. Trunks pointed to her laboratory down the hall, and in that direction Gohan turned.

Standing against a table, stood the blue haired woman who had accompanied the senshi on a limitless number of hunts for the Dragon Balls. Atop the table rested what appeared to be some type of robot, stained with streaks of black from what appeared to be a ki blast. He smirked as he stepped forward in front of the woman, who instantly shrieked and jumped. "Gohan!" she cried out as she gasped for breath. "Kami, Gohan, you startled me. Don't do that!"

Gohan chuckled softly and nodded with a murmured apology. Bulma smiled. "It's okay. What are you doing here? I would have thought Chichi would want you all to herself since you spend so much time here now."

"Well, I wanted to see Vejita, and I was wondering if you could repair my gi." He placed the worn cloth next to the broken robot, careful to keep the two objects separate. He didn't want his gi being torn more or stained by oil or carelessness. Carefully keeping an eye on the garment, he smiled to Bulma. "Do you think you could?"

"Oh, Gohan! Don't be silly! I can fix anything!" Bulma laughed happily and turned to a drawer, pulling out a large box that had to be a sewing kit of some kind. Gohan grinned. Bulma had created Saiyajin gi for the boys when they began their training for the Cell Games. He knew she would be able to repair it. "Thanks Bulma. Will you have it fixed by this afternoon?"

Bulma frowned, looking back to the garment. "Well, I suppose." She paused, looking to the sad Son eyes. She gave in with a chuckle. "Sure, Gohan. Why don't you go play with Trunks, huh? I think he was going to spar with Vejita."

Still grinning, Gohan bowed and turned, leaving Bulma to her work. He stepped outside and was again confronted by Trunks, who grinned happily. "Gohan! Kami, it's good to see you. You've saved me from a beating from Father."

Gohan shook his head. "Actually, I was going to go spar with Vejita right now. He's been expecting me. You're free to join, if you'd like."

Trunks grew instantly depressed and sighed. "Well… I suppose. Come on. Father doesn't like to wait."

~*~

A shrill ring from the phone in the hall caused Bulma to pause. She waited a moment, knowing that Trunks had been on the telephone all afternoon, but after a third ring she remembered that Trunks and Gohan were probably sparring. Turning, she dropped the gi and thread she'd been working with and scampered out into the hallway, grabbing the shrieking object and greeting the person on the other in.

"Bulma, thank goodness," came Chichi's voice, filled with worry. Bulma frowned and looked towards the training room. "Chichi, what's wrong? Did Gohan not tell you he was coming over here? He's safe…"

"No, no, Bulma, it's not that at all. It's about Gohan's gi," she said quietly, as if she was frightened that Gohan would be listening into the conversation. Bulma frowned, looking back again to the gravity room. Why was Chichi acting so strangely? "What is it, then? What about the gi?"

"Chichi, I need a huge favor. Please, would you destroy it?" Bulma eyes widened tenfold as she listened. "I know it's asking a lot, and Gohan will be so very angry, but…"

"Chichi! Do you have any idea what you're asking? Do you have any idea how much…"

"I know! I know! Bulma, Gohan's not acting like himself. I don't know if you've noticed, but I think he's not…" she trailed off with a heavy sigh. "I don't know, Bulma, but that gi that he's keeping… it's doing something to him. He needs to get rid of it, and now. He always hides it from me. I know you have it. I know he's asked you to repair it. Please, Bulma, just burn it! Shred it! Anything!"

Bulma frowned, staring at the long empty hallway. She thought back to that quick confrontation she'd had with Gohan. How quickly he had changed emotions… grinning one moment and flashing the sad Son eyes the next… indeed, Chichi was right - something was terribly wrong with Gohan. "Of course, Chichi. If you think it's for the best."

Chichi gave a quick thanks and the dial tone echoed out. Bulma turned, leaning against the wall. She hung up the phone and gave a weary look, once again, towards the hallway. Though she knew it was unlikely, she had the strangest and most fearful feeling that any moment Gohan would appear in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe, ready to… ready to…

She didn't know what she thought Gohan would do if he found out. Kill her? Chuckling softly, she moved towards the laboratory. Gohan would never harm her, or anyone. It was just a garment, a piece of stretchy material that he'd destroyed while fighting. Chichi just wanted to make sure that Gohan was okay, and by destroying the gi she was putting the past in its place, and making sure that Gohan did the same. It was the best this way.

Bulma reached the laboratory and grabbed the garment. She turned and placed the purple cloth in the metallic sink, then grabbed the lighter from the cabinet and set it aflame. The shredded purple material began to blacken as the fabric curled.

~*~