Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dimensions of You ❯ Chapter 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Vegeta scowled at the ground, leaning against the rough bark of a tree as he sat on its branch. One leg was drawn up with his arms casually resting on it, the other leg hanging toward the ground, swinging occasionally as the impulse to move it took him.

He couldn’t believe that it had been six years. He wasn’t sure whether it felt longer or shorter than that, but it did not feel like six years.

He put his head back against the tree, reveling in the shade and trying vainly to convince himself to close his eyes. But he knew what he’d see as soon as he did. He’d kept himself from a good sleep for six years to keep that image from his mind.

He had cursed himself numerous times for his actions on the cliff, but it didn’t make the memory of the day go away. He’d never intended on doing that. He’d just wanted to distract her from questions he couldn’t answer; wouldn’t answer. And when she’d reacted like that, stiffening. Well, he couldn’t say he was surprised, disappointed, but not surprised.

He lifted one of his hands to run through his hair, grimacing as it caught in tangles. He’d been running for quite a while now, barely staying one step ahead of those hunting him. He had to be especially careful now. These were Autolycus’s men after him, not some inept aspirant’s.

He knew he couldn’t run forever, but he was seriously at a loss as to what to do. He could confront Autolycus, but even if he did defeat him he would still have the rest of the Guild to contend with. Cutting the head off this beast wouldn’t kill it; only make it lash out blindly. The Guild would put aside the chaos that should’ve been caused by such an opening in their ranks to avenge their leader before they worried about political squabbles.

Of course, asking for anyone’s help would not only be out of character for him, but couldn’t be allowed. Vegeta had gotten himself into this predicament. He wasn’t going to drag anyone else into it.

If he’d only done as Autolycus had suggested and just knifed the boy. The woman’s words floated back to him, He has done more than just kill and enslave my people. He must pay in full. I want him to know who has killed him. I want him to know that he has brought about his own downfall. I can’t do that if I kill him while he’s sleeping.

He frowned. Well, this train of thought certainly wasn’t helping any. He wanted to not think of her!

His head snapped up suddenly at the surge of ki’s he felt heading straight for Earth. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Five bigger than the woman’s toward Kame House, one toward—

His eyes flew open and he uncurled himself from the tree, dropping down silently. He felt for her ki and cursed as he felt where it was. The one ki was coming straight toward her. She could easily handle it for the ki wasn’t big compared to hers, especially with Kakarott there, but he had made a promise. Besides, something about this didn’t feel right.

He stiffened as he felt the small tug of a ki behind him. Now? What was with the timing of these—?

The assassin lunged forward, thinking his prey unaware and met only empty air as his kamas sank into the ground where Vegeta had been.

The assassin moved quickly, Vegeta’s foot stomping the ground where the assassin’s back had been. The assassin had leapt backwards and toward the left, trying to flank Vegeta. Vegeta raised one eyebrow at the move, admiring his technique, as he himself turned and leapt back. The assassin moved with the other, kamas hanging low at his side. Both men stopped and regarded the other, looking for weaknesses and strengths in stances, neither finding any in their current positions. Both made their move at the same time, with the same intent on finding those weaknesses and strengths.

As the assassin moved a kama up to slash at his opponent, he found one of Vegeta’s strengths. The other easily turned his body away from the strike and leaned in, ramming a fist into his midriff. The assassin jumped back, trying to recover from the blow, but Vegeta followed. Then it was Vegeta’s turn to find out one of the assassin’s strengths.

The assassin swung the kama at Vegeta, catching the man across the shoulder and leaving a gash that quickly left a stain of red on Vegeta’s clothes. Vegeta clutched the wound and stopped his advance; warily eyeing his attacker in the same manner his attacker eyed him. Both were injured now, though it seemed Vegeta more than the assassin did.

This was proven more so as the assassin launched another attack, one kama leading in a fake, the other cocked back for the true strike.

Vegeta was no amateur to the sickle-like weapons the assassin wielded and leapt forward, going for a punch inside the kamas’ descending arcs. The assassin halted his and his kamas momentums immediately and pivoted to the right. The two men sailed right past each other, neither getting a shot, neither taking one.

Vegeta snarled as he twisted in the air so that he landed facing his opponent, his opponent doing the same. He didn’t have time for this! He needed to figure out a way to win, and quickly.

With a yell, Vegeta wildly charged the assassin.

The assassin faltered at the shout but held his ground, eyes twinkling at his target’s mistake. Perhaps if he’d heeded Autolycus’s warning about Vegeta, he wouldn’t have suddenly found himself face to bark with a tree trunk as Vegeta suddenly phased out to reappear behind him and slam a ki blast into his back.

Vegeta didn’t even bother to look at his handiwork as the body slid down the trunk, parts of the assassin’s face still sticking to it, kamas thrown to both sides of the body. Instead, inspecting his wound, which was bleeding more than he wanted it to. Vegeta held onto the wound, trying to keep it closed, ignoring the tiny stabs of pain and concentrated again. He cursed quite fluently in at least half a dozen different languages, including some in Saiyan he’d heard the woman say. Goku’s ki was low and the weakling’s seemed no better. The woman’s was fluctuating with emotions that seemed subdued, as if she was—reluctant.

Vegeta let go of the wound, as worrying about it would only distract him, and took to the air with such speed that the nearby trees caught fire. The wind that picked up at his passing quickly put the flames out though. The Z gang had their hands full already without the added trouble of a forest fire. *   *   *

Yamcha was looking from one Saiyan to the other in hopes of an explanation, but was getting nothing but a bad vibe. Bulma’s shock was quite evident, but this new Saiyan’s aura was disconcerting. What he had called her registered then and Yamcha gaped. “Sister?”

Saryl glanced at the human out of the corner of his eye. His ki was so low it wasn’t even worth his time to notice it, the other one though…. “Princess Bulma?” His tone asked if she knew him.

Bulma answered with a low cry but couldn’t seem to move from her spot. After so long, was he really here before her? He’d grown so much! “Saryl?”

He nodded and cocked his head to the side, turning to look fully at Goku, obviously the most powerful being here, even if his scouter only read one hundred and fifty. “By command of his Lord Emperor Frieza, I pronounce this planet under His Royal Sovereign’s dynasty. Any and all insurgents will be quashed without clemency. If necessary, this planet will be purged. Understood?”

Goku cocked his head to one side with a quizzical expression. He mouthed a few of the big words that Saryl had said before finally settling on an answer. “Huh?”

Saryl sighed. This was one of those planets. “I’ve come to take over your planet for Lord Frieza. Are you going to fight me or will you surrender?”

If it were possible, a light bulb would have turned on above Goku’s head. “Oh! That Frieza!” As Goku started to shift into a fighting stance, Saryl suddenly vanished.

Goku was lifted into the air by a punch to the face he didn’t even see but clearly felt. Before he could even land, a foot kicked him sharply in the back, hurling him straight up. He felt the crack of his jaw breaking as a clasped pair of hands battered him back down to the ground, which unmercifully accepted him into the impression his body made. He bounced twice and was still.

Bulma gaped at the unconscious Goku and whirled to look into Saryl’s hard eyes with shock as he landed in front of her, not even a trace of glee at smiting the great warrior. “Wh-what are you doing?” She took a step toward him, noticing the dead look in his eyes for the first time; noticing his hardened features. “Saryl? What happened to you?”

Saryl stood silently before Bulma for a long time, cocking his head in that unnerving fashion as he studied her. “I told you what I am doing. And many things have happened, not the least of them the betrayal of your people.”

“Betrayal?” Bulma moved slowly back toward Goku, wanting to make sure he was okay. Something wasn’t right. Since when were the Saiyan only her people? “Of our people? What betrayal?”

“They refused to recognize Lord Frieza’s sovereignty.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “I, as king, have executed them.”

Bulma gaped at him, feeling as though someone had put a vice around her chest and was slowly tightening it. “King? But Frieza killed our father! Frieza murdered our people!”

Saryl’s eyes narrowed. “Wrong. Your people betrayed him. Your father was executed by my own hand, and when your people refused to acknowledge Lord Emperor Frieza’s right to rule the universe, I did the same to them.”

Bulma froze, feeling that vice tightening, paralyzing her with pain and disbelief. She saw only herself mirrored back as she stared into Saryl’s blue orbs. There was nothing there; none of the glow she remembered. You only remember him as he was on Vegeta-sei. Two years under that lizard and he—

—had become what she saw before her now? That was impossible. He was Saryl, her brother. You only remember him as he was on Vegeta-sei….

“Lord Emperor Frieza has ordered you brought to him. He sent me to do this job. He sent the Ginyu Force to claim the planet. He wished you to come unharmed, but says that if you resist I am to get you to comply in any way possible. In the end, you will serve under the Great Lord Frieza. What is your choice, Princess?”

Bulma’s mind finally unstuck at his repetition of the hated name. “Do you hear what you are saying, Saryl? You sound as if you…respect that lizard! He destroyed our planet, killed our father, and forced you to work for him!” Her eyes asked their own question: Did he destroy you as well? Did he kill you as well? Are you willingly serving him?

Saryl’s replies answered both sets of questions. “You will address me by my proper title. I heard what I said. I destroyed your planet and I killed your father. I am serving Lord Frieza so that he may become ruler of the universe. He is the only one worthy to do so. Your people, like many others, could not see that. Are you blind to it also, Princess Bulma?” He stared intently at her before darkness stole over his eyes. “Yes, I see that you are.”

Her own eyes flared with blue fire, quickly muted. This was her brother, Saryl. Somewhere inside he had to still be her brother.

Yamcha stepped up then. The only thing, it seemed, between this monster and Bulma. He didn’t understand half of what was going on, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. He gulped down the lump in his throat, surprised that his voice came out as strong as it did. “Bulma isn’t going anywhere with you.”

Saryl’s contempt wasn’t even aimed at Yamcha, but the ki blast was. It hit him squarely in the chest, throwing him to lie still not far from where Goku still lay.

Bulma snapped out of her disbelieving trance at the attack on Yamcha but was not given the chance to react as Saryl suddenly flew at her. Her reluctance to hurt her brother, let alone attack him, had her on the defensive and losing ground quickly. Her brother did not show her reluctance and ruthlessly pounded at her defenses, slowly cracking them and his sister’s sanity.

Bulma could only reflect that the eyes looking at her seemed more like Frieza’s than her brother’s as his elbow whipped her head to one side. A fist sunk into her stomach, making the air rush out of her in a whuff. With a mere swipe of one foot, he took her feet right out from under her.

She was barely able to control her fall, going down onto her knees, pain tearing her eyes. She heard a huff of cold, emotionless laughter from above her. “How the mighty Saiyans have fallen. Lord Frieza will be pleased, but I am disappointed. I expected more…entertainment from the Princess of all Saiyans.” She felt the heat of a ki blast through physical and mental anguish aimed at her bowed head, powered down slightly so that it would only knocked her out, but she didn’t look up. She couldn’t look up.

She felt a familiar ki wink into existence and glanced up in time to see a blur of blue and black suddenly shoot in front of her, a resounding smack sounding as Vegeta’s roundhouse, with all the power he could muster behind it, met Saryl’s cheek, causing the Saiyan to stumble away from Bulma, blast dissipating.

Saryl put a hand lightly to his cheek as he stared at the short, spiky-haired man that now stood bristling over Bulma. He hadn’t felt the strike, but no one had ever caught him unaware before, let alone scored a hit. This did not cause any emotions to surface. Something that…small never could.

Vegeta smirked and raised a hand toward the ship. Before Saryl could even blink the blast had connected with the ship. Sized to completely destroy the pod, it did just that, rocketing everyone’s ears with the sound and blasting everyone’s eyes with the light. The explosion whipped up wind and dust that swiped past the standing men and merely swirled around Bulma, Yamcha, and Goku.

The man glared at him. “Was that enough ‘entertainment’, Prince?” Saryl raised a brow at the stressed word, realizing that the man knew this wasn’t his real title. This…human had destroyed his pod. His scouter was picking up two other pods not far from here, but both were not fit for his purposes. One not quite repaired, a two-seater, the other low on fuel, made for one. He’d have to improvise. There was no use crying over a destroyed pod or the lack of a title.

Bulma gazed in shock at the figure standing over her. A figure she hadn’t expected to see until he made his appearance and a timely one at that.

“No! Vegeta—”

Vegeta flicked a cold glare at her. “Shut up, woman.” His gaze went back to Saryl quickly. “Go see to Kakarott and that weakling and get to Kame House. They need you.” The glance he had given her had brought back…memories, not that least among them the fact that he was supposed to protect her.

Bulma stood slowly, trying to clear her head from the sound and light as she eyed her brother and Vegeta warily. She glanced back to see Yamcha stumbling over to Goku slowly, holding his chest and groaning, trying to move faster. Goku himself had not moved, but Bulma could see that he was still breathing. She looked back at Vegeta. “Yamcha’s okay. He can take care of Goku, and Piccolo’s at Kame House. I’m not leaving.”

Vegeta snorted, not breaking his gaze with Saryl. “Piccolo will hardly be able to fend off those five, even with baldy and the old pervert there.”

Saryl nodded as the Saiyan name clicked in his head. “Kakarott? So that’s why Radditz came here. Where is he? And Nappa too? One would think your bodyguard would be with you at all times.”

Vegeta growled at the unintentional insult and spoke before Bulma could answer, his voice a low snarl. “You’d best not worry about those two and pay notice to the warrior in front of you!”

Saryl raised a brow mockingly. “Your power is nothing compared to mine. Tell me, what your name is so I might write it on the dirt you’re buried under.”

Of course, to be buried was an insult in itself to any Saiyan. Writing the dead person’s name on the grave was even more of one. It let everyone know just how the person had died: without honor. Honor was everything to a Saiyan.

Vegeta, however, knew none of this and merely laughed. “The only dirt you’re going to be writing on is the one covering you, Saryl! And the only ones to know where you’re buried will be the bugs that eat your dead flesh.”

In human terms, an unmarked grave equaled the insult Saryl had given Vegeta. It stated that no honor was being given the deceased. Honor was everything to a human. “It is Vegeta. And yours?”

“King Saryl.”

Bulma gaped at the two men who were flinging insults back and forth without even realizing it, although she thought that both knew they were some kind of insult to the other.

“Heh, of a dead planet? That’s a new one!”

Saryl rolled his eyes. “Glad to have amused you. Now I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you.” With that, he launched himself at Vegeta.

Vegeta had time to shove Bulma to the right before he put his arms up in a low crossblock. The front snap he’d been expecting from Saryl’s right leg changed with alarming speed to a reverse backfist that caught Vegeta on the left side of his face, sending him spinning to land on top of Yamcha, who was trying to wake up Goku, felling both.

Vegeta became entangled in the other warrior’s struggle to rise and cursed. A cold laugh floated over to him, and Vegeta shoved Yamcha away from him, making the warrior stumble closer to Goku. Bulma rose herself, looking like she wanted to intervene but having no idea how to do so.

Vegeta struggled to rise and felt a flash of panic. If one strike had done this— He glanced over at the still, orange-clad fighter, panic almost turning to despair. How could he match this Saiyan’s power if Kakarott hadn’t even been able to? He straightened immediately as Saryl continued to advance on him, determination steeling his backbone. If he could at least injure him, it might give the woman time to escape.

Saryl calmly strolled toward the now standing man, noting the worried look on his sister’s face. She obviously didn’t like this lack of control on her part. “Oh don’t worry, Princess. I promise I won’t prolong his pain too much, just enough to whet my appetite. I haven’t had this much fun in quite a while. You wouldn’t believe the number of creatures too afraid to face me.”

Vegeta grimaced. “What a pity, Prince.” He shifted his stance so that he could move any direction, muscles tightening like springs.

Saryl plastered a fake smile on his face. “You will call me King before you die.” He flicked a hand casually up but fired off a blast that contradicted the flippant attitude by rivaling the one Bulma had thrown at Vegeta all those years ago. Like then, Vegeta managed, just barely, to vault over it, having to bend over to get his legs up enough. With a yell, he threw his own blast at Saryl.

Unfortunately, Saryl wasn’t there. He—or rather his fists were waiting for Vegeta above, striking between his shoulder blades, sending him crashing back down to earth.

Vegeta felt the shock as his body connected with the ground, driving the air out of his gut and snapping not a few of his ribs. He struggled to get his feet under him, dimly hearing Bulma in the background screaming his name.

Saryl landed just outside of the depression Vegeta was in and watched Vegeta’s futile struggles. He noted the blood seeping through the shoulder of the man’s blue bodysuit and gave it a solid kick. Grunting in satisfaction as Vegeta dropped back down, involuntarily crying out. “Call me King. I’ll be merciful and kill you now. End your torture.”

Vegeta lifted his head up, trying to focus on the man beside him and spit, smirking as it landed perfectly on Saryl’s white boot. Saryl took a deep breath, almost as if he were having to punish a child, and kicked the man’s shoulder again, hard enough to cause fresh blood to spurt from the wound, darkening the bodysuit to a black color. Hissing in pain, Vegeta tried to rise again.

Deciding that it would be nice to experiment and see how much pain these humans could actually take before they caved, he suddenly dropped down, drilling a knee into Vegeta’s back.

Vegeta could only scream in pain, blood spraying from his mouth, body arching against the pain. Saryl took the opportunity to grab a handful of hair and slam Vegeta’s head into the ground. Pain ripped through Vegeta’s skull and he futilely tried to throw Saryl off of him, spots dancing in his vision.

The man still looked defiant, though his eyes were struggling to keep from rolling back into his head. Saryl had to give the man credit for his stubborn stamina.

Still keeping his grip on his hair, Saryl bent the man’s head back to a painful extent judging by the look that crossed the man’s face. He slapped the man with one gloved hand, doing it again and again until the man’s blood coated his hand. Vegeta barely registered the breaking of his jaw except that it was more pain, dimly hearing the man again commanding him to call him king.

Vegeta let out a grunt and bared his teeth in a feral manner. Saryl took this as the refusal it was meant to be and stood up, dragging Vegeta’s body up with him. He turned Vegeta so that he was facing him and methodically began to hit the man in the stomach, not minding the blood that sprayed into his hair.

Asking again, and again getting a refusal, Saryl slammed the body back into the dirt, again dropping a knee into his back.

“I can do this all day, Vegeta. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re body will take much more. What do you say, eh? All you have to do is say two little words—King Saryl. Not so much now, is it?”

Getting no answer from the painfully conscious man, Saryl shrugged and continued his ministrations. NEXT