Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Persistence ❯ Part 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Hello, LadyKATT! Thanks for your review and glad you liked.

 

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I'm not making any money.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male). Kakarott/Vegeta

 

Persistence by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com) (beta-read by achillona)

 

Part 4

 

(Nine years later)

 

It was a banquet like he had seen many others: expensive clothes, fake smiles, fake teeth, fake talks, fake personalities. Scum. Scum that needed to be exterminated. That was his task today.

 

Kakarott looked around one more time. He needed to be careful - several past `jobs' had been risky and there were more and more people who could recognize his face. He sipped his very expensive wine from a glass worth a small fortune in order to hide his smile. The `jobs' had been risky, but paid off. Now they had a new governor in Madar and a new group of politicians in Laniara. The poor old governor in Madar somehow…accidentally…managed to break his neck while training in his training hall at home, and an unfortunate group of politicians simply went off in their new, modern and expensive carriage. It was presumed that there was some gas leakage.

 

Kakarott smiled again. Oh, well, sometimes good things happen. One just needs to give fate a slight push.

 

Kakarott checked his wristband. He had about half an hour left until the main event. He gave a chilling glare to a posh guy who tried to start a conversation, shoved his empty glass into the stupefied guy's fingers and moved away. For some time he wandered through the huge hall, scrutinizing priceless paintings on the expensive wallpaper then strolled back to the table - food was for free and he already learned a long time ago that one had to use each opportunity when it presented itself. Besides, he loved eating.

 

Kakarott filled up his plate then leaned on the wall. He noticed several interested gazes. His tail wrapped around his waist more tightly. He could feel his white tail tip twitching in agitation. Yesterday he painted it white to get into this banquet. It was the usual procedure; in these past few years he had used about two canisters of white paint. Usually he wouldn't need that, but in this particular banquet there were only Elites, which made it impossible to get in if you were a lower class and didn't have that white streak on your tail tip.

 

It was a big banquet, about two hundred people, all Elite. For years the king was growing restless - the young prince scorned and spurned all the candidates that were trying to win the prince's favor. This banquet was one of many where the king tried to find a mate for his son. It was not clear if the king was beginning to worry about his bloodline or simply wanted to be a grandpa, or wanted to redeem some of his fault to his son. One way or another, the prince mostly ignored the parties thrown for him, and if arrived, it was only to laugh and have fun at the expense of all the candidates for his heart. At this point Kakarott agreed with the prince - he would never choose one from these men, and these banquets were only a waste of the people's hard earned money. Kakarott had never seen the prince, but even if the prince was Elite, Kakarott somewhat respected him: the prince seemed to be made from a bit different stuff than his father, the king. The prince and his father were clashing all the time, and there were several speeches in which the prince mentioned lower classes. Nobody knew exactly when and why it started, but there were some rumors that the king ordered his son's lover killed, whom he didn't like. Actually Kakarott didn't care at all about that, he was just a little upset that the king wasn't hosting parties at the castle - in that case he would have had access to more important Elites. But after his and several other groups began to terrorize and make sorties against Elites, the king decided that it wouldn't be safe to keep up those drunken parties in the castle, close to himself. Now the castle was literally surrounded by almost an entire army.

 

Kakarott grinned around his spoon, casting his eyes around. Oh, well, but actually that wasn't too bad either: this display proved that the king wasn't strong enough to keep order at his own home. And he was going to increase that mess further. Soon there would be more like him who would follow in his footsteps and one day this Elite-third-class bullshit was going to end. Something had to happen, something needed to be done, revolutions sometimes were trickier than one could imagine. It didn't take one to run along the streets with a red flag in his hands, screaming to unite. It needed some planning and effort. And if everything was okay, one sometimes didn't even realize that revolution already transpired.

 

Kakarott put his clean plate back on the table and looked at his wristband again. About time.

 

XXXXX

 

It was he. It was he. HE! He would recognize him even after a thousand years! Gods. He felt his head spin and his stomach churn. All that time his father hadn't been lying. He didn't kill Kakarott. Kakarott was alive. Then, before several years, when he sent his first letter to Kakarott, he realized that the guard had been lying to him - all those wishes from Kakarott were fake. He never realized that before; nobody was able to carry any unauthorized letters into the castle in case there might be poison or some plague. He would give the guard his letter to bring to Kakarott, and the guard would come back with the verbal answer and some story. After realizing that the guard lied, even knowing what he was risking, he went to Madar. The house still stood there but the family that lived there had not a clue as to who Kakarott or Bardock were. He questioned more, but nobody could tell him anything. He had been sure then that his father killed Kakarott and Bardock. He had been so furious then. He killed the guard, no not killed, splashed him everywhere. Later he regretted that - he perfectly knew the guard only had been following orders, but in that moment of madness he wasn't able to think clearly. He attacked his father. He had been too weak then, too furious, too shattered; his father almost killed him. Two agonizingly long months he had to stay in bed after that. He stopped speaking to his father after that. Actually after that he rarely spoke at all.

 

He stared at Kakarott in disbelief and wonder, and wasn't even able to grasp what he felt. Joy and fear. Mostly fear probably. He was afraid that Kakarott wouldn't even recognize him. It was such a long time ago! For him it seemed as if everything happened yesterday, but for Kakarott… He wasn't even sure if Kakarott received the letter where he explained everything. How many hours had he spent thinking of whether Kakarott knew what happened, why didn't he go then to meet Kakarott? Countless… the many times he was afraid and how his heart ached to think that before dying Kakarott might have assumed the worse… He had been in search of Kakarott for the past nine years. He was sure that his father killed him, but he still remembered and was searching for Kakarott, and sometimes he believed he glimpsed Kakarott here and there. He wanted to believe his father so much, when he told him again and again that he didn't touch Kakarott. He was looking for Kakarott, he wanted to at least explain himself if Kakarott had believed the worst then. Just to talk to him… But he never found Kakarott. Neither Kakarott nor Bardock were in any data anymore after that. That's why he was so sure that his father had killed them both.

 

Kakarott was much taller now. More muscular, more mature. More beautiful. More distant than ever.

 

XXXXX

 

He almost jumped out of his skin when someone touched his shoulder. He quickly slid the poison back into his sleeve and turned around. There was a butler. The big muscular, black-dressed man was looking at him with indifference. “Yes?” Stay calm. Stay calm.

 

The butler shortly paid respect. “Prince Vegeta requests your presence.”

 

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. He was caught. There was no chance of escaping now: he could bet there were guards everywhere. “Errr…I'm sort of busy now…” he leaned with a ladle to pour more of the same punch that he had been trying to poison a second before. He could see the butler motion for the guards that were standing next to the main entrance. Oh fuck, now he was going to get it.

 

“I said Prince Vegeta wanted to see you,” the butler repeated, the two big guards standing at his side. The butler was getting annoyed.

 

“Why such a rush?” he sweetly smiled at them.

 

“Are you going or do you prefer being driven in a handcart?”

 

Yes, the butler was definitely annoyed.

 

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he muttered. So this was it. He was going to die now. At least they could have let him finish his punch.

 

While leaving the main hall he could feel and see curious glances. He even heard someone say: `Lucky bastard. I heard Prince Vegeta chose him.' He would have died laughing, but he already was half-dead with fear, worry and anxiety. He tried to think of something, but nothing useful was coming to his head. He could fight these guards and the butler, but what's the point? He would definitely win against three or even ten guards, but he could not fight against an army. Someone recognized him and told Prince Vegeta. Everything was lost: Prince Vegeta would easily kill him if only he tried to escape. And he couldn't get rid of the damn bottle - one guard was against him, another behind him, and all the damn corridors were highly illuminated.

 

He was led into a room. Someone was standing with his back to him. The room was slightly darkened, and he couldn't see much. That someone was small, with crazy hair and…had a nice ass. Gosh, and these were his last thoughts! Unbelievable!

 

“Leave us.”

 

With a crazy, but hopeful idea that these words were said to him, he began to retreat back to the door.

 

“Not you, idiot!” the butler pushed him forward.

 

“Call him that again, and you are beheaded.”

 

The butler was surprised. Hell, he was surprised too.

 

“Yes, your highness,” the butler bowed and retreated with his back to the door, still bent over like he would be sick, which he probably was. If he tasted that dreadful kipper, he really was. One didn't need any poison with a food like this. More parties like this, and there would be no Elites left anymore.

 

After a second there was a soft click of the door closing and the butler and the both guards were gone. The crazy haired-man, who probably should be the prince, according how he had been called by the butler, didn't move. He still was standing with his back to him, staring somewhere through the window as if he were perusing something very interesting there. It was raining outside. And it was dark. It was night. Not a very good way to go; he would prefer to die during a beautiful afternoon, with the sun shining and birds singing. Oh, well, one can't have everything, can he? He just hoped he wouldn't be tortured. He didn't have much to say, but still…taken however you want, it would be an unpleasant experience. He was a bit relieved to think that the Prince wasn't known for liking tortures. Tortures were the King's favorite occupation.

 

That silence was dancing on his nerves. He was sweating profusely, his throat was completely dry and his hands were shaking badly. He almost jumped back when finally the crazy-haired man moved.

 

After he finally was able to discern the face, he felt his lips upturn into a snarl. Veliro. What was the son of a bitch doing here? “So it was you who denounced me to the Prince… Figures…” He moved back. He had not forgotten - Veliro was twice as strong as him. Veliro probably asked to chat with him before handing him over to the Prince. And he had not forgotten this either - Veliro was good with his tongue. The bastard wanted to laugh at him.

 

“I see you didn't get my letter…”

 

What did a letter have to do with this? What letter? “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

Veliro seemed to get an agonizing expression on his face. Interesting why. Obviously this was one of Veliro's `marvelous' games again. The bastard was up to something.

 

“I wrote a letter where I explained everything to you, but I see that it has never reached you.”

 

This was getting boring. “Yeah? Cool. So what do you want from me now?”

 

He could see that Veliro was getting upset. Veliro getting upset? Well, that was something new. Or maybe Veliro had tried that suspicious kipper too.

 

“I just wanted to explain what happened. I…”

 

“Don't bother. I perfectly know what happened and what's going to happen. Cut the crap, Veliro, I'm getting bored here. I suspect the prince wouldn't be very happy to hear that you killed me with boredom.”

 

Veliro sighed. What the hell was the bastard sighing here for?

 

“However, I would like to explain some things to you.”

 

He really had no wish to chat or even listen to the bastard. He truly hated Veliro. He despised Veliro. Veliro was the incarnation of all the evil that he was fighting against. People like Veliro didn't deserve to live. Elites didn't deserve to live. Especially if they were Veliro.

 

Veliro took his silence for agreement. As if. If only he was be able to shut Veliro up or escape…

 

“First, I'm not Veliro. I…”

 

“Marvelous,” he grinned at Veliro. He felt the urge to clap his hands. Was Veliro trying to entertain him here, or what?

 

“Oh will you shut up! How I can explain anything if…”

 

“Shut up yourself! I don't fucking care what you would like or what you wouldn't like to explain here! There's no point in you explaining anything - you lie all the time anyway! Cut the crap and call the Prince!”

 

“I'm the fucking Prince, you imbecile! And if you finally shut up, I'll be able to explain some things!”

 

Oh. My. God. This was bad. This was SOOO bad. If Veliro was not Veliro but Prince Vegeta…which he probably was because that butler called him `highness'… Oh fuck. He was going to get it now. Two options were possible: either Vel…the Prince was going to blackmail him to fuck him like he did then and then kill him, or he was going to kill him so that no one ever suspects that he ever fucked a third-class. No matter how he took it: he was going to die. He preferred the latter option of death. “What do you want?” He tried to talk calmly - Veli…Prince Vegeta looked a bit angry. He saw the Prince advance closer and at the same time felt his back hit the wall behind him. The Prince stopped.

 

“Sit down,” the Prince motioned for him to sit down on the fluffy armchair.

 

He didn't argue and did as he was told. Types like Velir…Prince Vegeta always wanted to crush the other into compliance at any cost. He didn't want to tempt the Prince. He had enough of that the previous time. He knew how far the Prince was able to go.

 

He watched the Prince sit down opposite him. All the time there was a thought circling in his head if he could just have enough time to get to the door and reach the main hall where there were more people …the Prince wouldn't feel comfortable enough to mount him.

 

“I did come back,” the Prince said to no one particular. It seemed he was more interested in the carving on the wooden table surface.

 

He had no idea what the Prince was talking about, but kept his mouth shut. There was no need in angering the Prince.

 

The Prince watched him for some time. “You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?” he sighed. “I wanted to go to meet you as we planned. My father, the King, saw me, and told that if I ever saw you again, he would kill you. I decided not to. I wrote you a letter where I explained everything. I gave it to one of the guards to take it to you. About a year later I still believed that you were receiving my letters. After I learned that I was tricked I went looking for you. I still wasn't strong enough to oppose to my father, but I wanted to find you. I never found you.”

 

He just stared at Veliro. So this was it? It was like that? Simply like that? Veliro's father? Not Veliro? It was not Veliro's fault? Wait, was Veliro lying?

 

“It's true, Kakarott. I believe it would be easier for you now, to believe that it wasn't like that, but it was. I have been looking for you.”

 

“W-we moved out.” It was the only thing he was able to say. His head now was in such a mess that he hardly was able to think at all. “I have been…a bit depressed after…that.”

 

“I can understand,” Veliro nodded.

 

Understand? Understand?! What the fuck could Veliro understand?! It was not him who was fucked and left for amusement! Bastard! WHAT could Veliro understand?! “I…I need to go.” He shakily stood up; feeling like the whole world was going to crash down on him.

 

Veliro sadly shook his head and stood up too. “I can't let you go.” Veliro advanced to him and took his arm then pulled the small bottle out of his sleeve. “I saw you then at the table, and I know you are that guy who killed the governor in Madar. You fit the description. I'm sorry, but I can't let you go.”

 

The room was spinning now. Big colorful dots were dancing before his eyes. So, Veliro knew… Why he was feeling so dizzy? How much did Veliro know…what was Veliro going to do with him now? What the hell was happening to him?!

 

XXXXX

 

Vegeta managed to grab Kakarott before that one would have collapsed on the floor. He stared at Kakarott's lifeless form in his arms, and realized that he was becoming very worried - Kakarott wasn't breathing.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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