Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ransom Due ❯ 16 ( Chapter 16 )

Chapter 16

 

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Dragonball, DBZ or the characters in this story. For fun and not profit.

 

Warning: First lemon I ever wrote.

 

***

 

“You'll die too if he kills me!”

 

 

“Heh… It'll be worth the trade-off…!”

 

 

“Wh-what did you say?!... You're insane!”

 

 

“If it's the only way… to defeat you…”

 

 

The image of two figures, one grappling the other from behind, struggled in the circle of salt on the parlor floor. The facsimile blurred and became partially transparent as a hand waved through it.

 

 

“Neither one of those is my son,” the client said to the oni in a patronizing tone that matched both the nerve he'd got to disturb the ritual boundary and his fancy three piece suit. The oni struggled to reset the link with the Oracle, pressing her fingers a little more insistently into his sweat bathed temples as he writhed against his bonds. The image of the two struggling warriors wavered again and their exclamations became garbled. The Oracle's eyes rolled back into his skull so that only the bloodshot whites were visible and his back arched nearly half a meter off the marble slab he was shackled to.

 

 

The tableau displayed suddenly exploded with a violet-white light and the Oracle snarled through the metal bit in his mouth, necessary due to a previous incident when he'd nearly bitten his tongue off completely. Of course, his body not being truly corporeal, it grew back as soon as he willed it, but it took him a while to do so. At first the oni thought it was some twisted form of self flagellation, but then she realized that she actually had felt somewhat guilty about the episode and he knew it. So he prolonged her mental anguish by refusing to heal himself properly.

 

 

The glaring light died down and the image disappeared entirely. The Oracle simultaneously slumped back down on the slab, unconscious.

 

 

“Well, bugger!” the oni exclaimed as she rose from kneeling beside the Oracle's now supine form and started to undo the shackles.

 

 

“That's it?” the client huffed incredulously.

 

 

“That's it. And we thank you for your patronage. Off with you, then.” She shrugged into a diaphanous robe to cover the skimpy classical tunic she wore for dramatic effect during readings and went about sweeping up the ring of salt.

 

“What!? I came a long way to see what my son is doing with his life! You showed me nothing! Return my payment!”

 

 

“No guarantees are implied, no refunds. Sorry.” She glanced over at the Oracle and half hoped he'd wake up. Letting him do the job of ushering dissatisfied clients off the island was always good for some entertainment, if somewhat destructive. The thing was, customers usually got what they came for, no problem. It was rather distressing when things didn't pan out smoothly; it always made her wonder if something wasn't wrong with her charge. Forget about the fact that the bastard would probably cue in to her concern and start yet another round of quarreling through it somehow. Ah, well, at least such things provided a way to pass the time between clients.

 

 

“Look, don't you know who I am? I'm not leaving until I get what I came for or return of my payment…”

 

 

“Who you were doesn't matter. Really, right now you're only a puffle of disembodied spirit. I only let you pretend to have a body on this island as part of the reading. It's all so much more theatrical, no?” She went to the other side of the parlor to look over the stack of books he'd brought as payment. “The way you came's good as any to leave. Good bye.”

 

 

The client was beginning to bluster about a verbal contract in regards to her services and all kinds of legal mumbo jumbo that might have applied on the mortal plane.

 

 

“They never seem to get it that this is Hell, not a holiday,” she grumbled, glancing back over at the Oracle. She thought she saw the corner of his lips twitch slightly as if he were trying to hide an amused smile as he lay on the slab supposedly out cold. Bastard! She sighed. She'd have to remove Three Piece Suit by herself.

 

 

She put a halt to her perusal of the books, exasperated to be interrupted. She'd just begun flipping through one titled “Untamed Longings” that looked to be quite juicy - something about a nurse tending to a handsome patient. A shame to not be able to get down to reading that one right away, she thought, putting it back on the stack. She closed her eyes and concentrated, summoning the blood sea that began less than a kilometer outside her front door. She had a great view from her palace as the sea spread as far as could be observed to the horizon and either direction until the alabaster shore curved back around on itself.

 

 

The client continued his ranting for only a short time longer before noticing the mounting high-pitched hum and fetid breeze blustering in from the front verandah. The red mist followed before he could protest. It swept in, coalescing into heaving figures that could have been humanoid, could've been something else as they swarmed him, groaning. They lifted the client in a red whirlwind seething with noise, flaying his fancy suit then his borrowed flesh as the red cloud carried him out the entryway and onto the beach. The turbulence left a pile of bones on the shore as it moved out to sea, the screams of the client still mingling with the infernal buzz of the mist until it dissipated.

 

 

She wandered out on the verandah after it, and upon observing the bones decided that it was as good a time as any for tea, being that time didn't really follow any conventional flow on the island.

 

 

“Bardock, collect that lot and put on the kettle, would you,” she called back inside. “And be quick about it.”

 

 

Getting no response, she sighed again, backtracking into the parlor. As she suspected, she found the slab unoccupied, her charge having slipped out the back door while she'd been busy.

 

 

She took her time navigating the myriad rooms and exiting the rear of the palace, knowing he couldn't get far even if he'd flown out beyond the island. Rumor had it the distance across the blood sea matched or exceeded that of Snake Way. He couldn't possibly make it to the mainland shore. Certainly none of the previous Oracles could have… but of course he was different.

 

 

The least of her worries, yet the best of the deal, were his looks. All of the others were Kanassans, just shy of hideous. More than easy on the eye, this Saiya-jin stirred feelings of attraction in her that quickly progressed unchecked into something much deeper than infatuation. This couldn't be anything but dangerous. The bond between Oracle and amplifying spirit was already immutable and fixed, but intended to be emotionally platonic at best. Perhaps the problems she encountered as of late in controlling and projecting his visions stemmed from complications caused by her feelings for him.

 

 

The thing that most worried her was the fact that his gifts were not natural. He'd obviously come by them by means other than birth. She hadn't got to the bottom of that yet but imagined some kind of predatory act was at the root of it all. Regardless, every time she amplified visions through another spirit, she ripped a little bit of their soul away, doubly so if the original gift wasn't inborn. She'd be left with little more than a fleshy shell in half the duration all the others lasted. For all practical purposes, it would feel like several hundred years before he completely withered away, but she already knew it wouldn't be enough. She wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't wither away herself after he'd gone. He didn't help matters any, what with his willful defiance forcing her to reign him in all the time.

 

 

His bodily strength was another matter altogether. He became somewhat physically weakened in fugue state but still nearly overpowered her, a major tier demon, on more than one occasion. His stamina wasn't to be trifled with either; he rebounded from sessions more rapidly than any of the others had - when he wanted to. He'd figured out how to push her buttons, alright. Sometimes she actually feared he might not have shown her his actual physical capabilities as yet. He had his body in this realm ultimately only because she willed it, but he'd be of no use to her without it; a catch twenty-two he was well aware of and exploited accordingly. She wondered what exactly she'd done to anger En-ma so much that he'd decided to play this cruel joke on her.

 

 

Exiting the palace, she could make out Bardock's quickly receding form, a small speck just above the horizon. He couldn't be far out past the island's opposite shore, but she could tell he'd got farther than she'd anticipated, especially so soon after a tough reading. Thoughts of his toying with her by hiding his strength nagged at her again. She'd have to slow him down, and damn the consequences.

 

 

She quickened her own pace a little, forging a connection with the sea and directing it back through the link with her captive. Though a more difficult task without physical contact, the blood sea served as an extension of herself and would intercept him soon enough. She could detect its swell already, both mentally and visually. She felt it make contact after only a few more steps over the barren, chalky ground. Lost souls, unable to detach themselves from the shock of their passing between worlds made up the bloody miasma. It engulfed him swiftly and brutally. At her command, the spirits would leave his body intact, but his gifts made him especially sensitive to their torment. Before she reached him he'd die a thousand deaths several times over and become privy to a million futures that may yet to be. At her command the surge pushed him towards the shore. Stubbornly, through what could only be horrible anguish, he resisted but to no avail. He eventually got bogged down in the shallows. Sure that she'd have plenty of time to spare, the oni slowed to a lazy shuffle. If he wanted to cut what amounted to a century or two off his existence, let him. Tragic, but his arrogance wasn't to be rewarded, not in her domain.

 

 

He still floundered on his knees in one of the inland shallows on her arrival at the shore. He grasped at his own temples, his screams raw and hoarse, the bloody tide swirling up to his waist. Occasionally an arm would coalesce from the brine to grope and drag him completely under again. He'd emerge sputtering and straining against the pull, obviously a futile effort at best. If he was hiding any more strength, now wasn't the time she'd call his bluff. She waited at the blood's edge until his screams subsided to sobs before sending the tide back out to sea. Finally she went to him and knelt, cradling his shaking form in her lap.

 

 

He clung to her in return, his reason far gone past the mortification of needing her support or shedding tears in her presence. She gently stroked his cheek, tracing the scar there and wondering if she'd ever find out how he'd got it. After a little while he calmed, perhaps regaining some of his sense but still taking breaths in gulps.

 

 

“Why do you compel me to this?” She leaned in close and whispered. “Even if you could leave this island, there is no breaking our connection.” Taking a hold of a clump of his coarse hair she pulled slightly, forcing his black eyes, dilated to pinpoints, to meet her blue ones. “I'd always find you.”

 

 

He gripped her harder, still not quite in his right mind. “My son…” he gasped, and then ground out something about vengeance that she couldn't quite decipher through his labored breathing.

 

 

“Oh, I see,” she quipped, not liking that she hadn't got his full attention and irked by the fact that he'd let his personal affairs interfere in a reading. Never mind her own failure to imprint his visions to the client. It was just bad for business. “If it's your boys you're worried about, it looked like they were both about to die a horrible death in that little scene you conjured up. I'm sure I could arrange for them to visit. I fancy either one looked ripe for a good tumble if you ask me.”

 

 

He struggled even harder to take in air, each breath broken by a low chuckle that became an insane peal of laughter. “What? With a hag like you?” He pushed away from her. “Even a pair of bottom of the barrel level Saiyans come back as zombies wouldn't give you the time of day.”

 

 

That was a low blow. OK, she was pushing several hundred thousand years old, had blue skin, the incisors of a feral tiger and a pair of nubby horns grown out of her forehead, but the rest looked right good. Not one gray hair marred her thick mane of light brown hair, her figure was a near perfect hourglass and there still wasn't a wrinkle on her…well, maybe one or two… “Sod off!” She hauled back to slap him but he caught her wrist and held fast before she could follow through. “A miserable old git like you is one to talk…”

 

 

“Yeah,” he growled, pushing her down onto the sand, “because either one of those children wouldn't know any better what they were missing even before they were dead.” He pinned both her hands above her head and lowered his to her neck, teasing her with his lips.

 

 

Clearly he was still somewhat off his head but she wasn't going to complain. She could've rolled right out from under him and walked away if she wanted to, he'd been weakened that much. If this was the way he chose to save face from getting a little beat down, she'd take it. She feigned a bit of a struggle as he pressed his weight on her, moving his lips and tongue up along her chin and finally meeting her lips. They exchanged hungry kisses and his grip on her wrists loosened so that he could entangle his fingers in her hair as he forced her legs apart with one knee.

 

 

She moved her hands down his bare back to pull at the torn fatigues he'd kept since his arrival. He rolled, letting her straddle him and then pulled the fatigues off himself, directing her hands to his swollen sex as he went about removing her robe and tunic. She stroked him insistently as he pulled her back down to him and explored her bare breasts with his mouth and hands. She shuddered as he finally drove into her, moving in long controlled thrusts meant to tease as much as anything else. She attempted to take control of their rhythm and he responded by turning his weight and putting her on her back beneath him again. She felt his tail snake around her thigh and she startled, shocked at the constricting strength of it urging her to throw her legs up around him.

 

 

In the periphery of her mind she felt the sea begin to rise up with her ardor, her rational sense warning of danger only to be ignored. Before long it lapped at their entwined bodies, a feedback of euphoria throwing them both over the edge. She threw back her head and nearly howled, arching up to him and raking at his back with her fingers as he exploded in a hot torrent inside her.

 

 

After a brief moment of lying tangled together in the remnants of the red surf he wordlessly rolled off of her and sprawled on his back staring at the empty whitewashed sky. After she regained her wits somewhat she put some effort into pushing the sea out a little farther lest they both go crazy. She pressed herself up against him, realizing that he'd passed out for real, this time truly spent.

 

 

She considered leaving him there but knew that would only give him a head start on her should he decide to make another go at finding the mainland. In the end she balled up their clothes in one hand and grabbed one of his ankles with the other and dragged him back across the island leaving a trail dug out of the sand and chalk, probably scraping him up pretty badly in the process. She could have carried him but felt the evidence left by her method might serve as some kind of deterrent, at least she hoped it would. When she got back to the palace she thought about tying him back down to the slab, but the last time she'd done that he just played obedient for long enough to get her interested in finding out what he was on about. The whole affair had ended in a kinky mess that she wasn't sure she had the stamina to repeat anytime soon - and he'd still somehow convinced her to let him out of the bonds before she thought it necessary.

 

 

She finally settled on putting him in her own bed. At least she'd know if he got up to something as soon as possible if she was nestled up with him in the eiderdown when he started moving about. It didn't look like he was going anywhere for a while in his state, but she'd underestimated him before.

 

 

After tossing and turning for a while she realized she was way too keyed up to sleep and remembered the bones the client had left behind. She decided to chance leaving her charge just long enough to retrieve them and go ahead and make the tea she'd forgone earlier. It would surely settle her nerves enough for her to get some rest.

 

 

As she was grinding the bones in a mortar and then as she waited on the dust to steep she realized something had to be reshuffling in the time stream with all the problems of late. Even considering the abnormality of her charge and his uncooperative nature, there was no reason for them to have failed readings as often as they had. The last three readings had been a bust of one sort or another. Something chronoreal had to be getting in a tussle, maybe even tearing. She decided that she couldn't really do anything about it so she began reading the steamy novel she put down earlier while she enjoyed her tea. She was weary soon enough and retired, enjoying the warm presence of her captive while she could.

 

 

*****

 

 

He lay flat on his back and contemplated the void that served as a sky, trying to piece some coherent thought through the tattoo of his heartbeat, perfectly synched with the slower persistent crashing of the waves. The infernal bloody tide and what flowed through his veins were one and the same now, providing a constant torment that only abated when he made physical contact with the demon beside him. Sometimes he thought he could snatch back some of what she had taken from him by coupling with her, sometimes he did it out of rebellion, sometimes he just needed to. It made the pain in his head subside, a little bit.

 

 

The sea had plenty of suffering primed just for him. He'd actually tried to come to grips with just how very personal a tie he shared with it, his contribution to it being so great. He never thought to put a number to the souls he'd thrown into oblivion - surely billions, countless really. Enough to whittle him away to null slowly and painfully for a very, very long time, he imagined.

 

 

He felt it draw away vaguely, pulling at his fatigued psyche. He pulled back, albeit weakly, trying to get a handle on just what the fuck she was doing to make it obey her like that. He slipped away into blackness thinking there had to be an angle…

 

 

Bardock opened his eyes and rolled over, tangling himself in the cushy comforter and simultaneously uncovering the demon as she dozed. Damn bed had to be all soft and full of pillows and blankets. What the hell was wrong with a firm, sturdy mattress and functional sleeping quarters? As far as he was concerned, the demon was a creature of unnecessary overkill when it came to sloth and avarice. He expected her to wake immediately and chastise him as the air hit her exposed body, but she didn't. He stayed completely still for a moment, surveying her naked form. That fucking hunger rose up in him again. He couldn't even tell if it was really against his will anymore. It took everything he had not to put his hands on her and resign himself to spending another significant duration in the too-comfortable bed.

 

 

He spent another moment getting his own unclothed body under control before carefully disengaging himself from the featherbed and all its accoutrements. He was still a little surprised she hadn't been disturbed, especially after he shuffled through her various possessions littering the room; books, clothes, a myriad of things collected from her hapless clientele. He couldn't fathom why anyone would want so much stuff just for the sake of having it. He finally came across his battered pair of black leggings, slid them on quietly and crossed the room, excruciatingly slowly so as not to wake his captor, as he fought the unrelenting (surely unnatural?) urge to slip back into the bed instead of out the door.

 

 

He exited the room, greeted by reddish morning sunlight filtering in through the windows lining the balcony of sorts that separated the upstairs living quarters from the downstairs common areas. He experienced an odd sense of uneasiness for a split second… what the heck was he doing again? Oh, yeah, summer rental house. The ledger and borrowed scouter were in his hands; he'd recorded his report and he needed to return them.

 

 

The odd sense of confusion must be an after effect of the vertigo he'd experienced the night before while following the instructions in the ledger. It was an ordinary record of the rental agreement between himself and the landlord, unless read through the special scouter he'd received with it, whereupon entering a code he was able to read the instructions for his covert solo missions. He didn't know who the instructions came from, only that he was to follow them and record but not transmit the results, and sometimes what he thought was useless information about some of the planets he cleared, to an encrypted partition on the scouter.

 

 

Sometimes the volume of information he had to process made his head spin. He didn't think he, a conscripted soldier, was ever meant to know so much about scouter technology, let alone the petty stuff he had to notice off-world and then try to retain through clearing a planet. He couldn't understand what anyone would want with building specifications, historical records, even dietary trends from dead worlds. He did understand that he was the guinea pig in some sort of experiment, possibly endorsed by the King himself. The `landlord' was an elite guard. Who the hell else would an elite guard report to besides the King? The payment, coordinates to Freiza's most desired planets and therefore the highest paying jobs, given to him long before official posting, was well worth the trauma and risk he took completing the solo missions.

 

 

Judging from the results so far, they needed someone tough enough to put the instructions into practice, yet expendable enough to go largely unnoticed should there be an accident or problem. He fit the bill perfectly. As far as his power level had increased, and as much as he was talked about among his peers and the indentured in the infirmaries and galleys, he was still just a low level nobody at the end of the day. The thought put him in a somewhat foul mood. The last thing he really wanted to do was deliver the ledger and scouter to the elite by hand, in an exclusive elite neighborhood on the outskirts of the Royal Palace where he'd surely be harassed, but that was the requirement.

 

 

He reached the top of the stairs in time to see the boy enter from the morning water errands; early, he noted by the amount and color of the daylight. The second sun hadn't risen yet. The boy was early for everything. Born with a power level on the cusp of upper class conscription, the boy's infant mission hadn't been an easy one, and here he was in this house at a mere eleven years of age, several seasons before he'd been expected back. As he watched his wild haired son, class yet to be designated, cross the main foyer and disappear into the kitchen, Bardock felt a surge of both pride and envy. To have the opportunity to earn a class delineation rather than just have it dictated at birth was extremely rare. He decided to put the boy's mettle to the test, see how close to worthy he really was.

 

 

“Raditzu!” He called loud enough to be heard through the doorway and to impart urgency, but didn't move from where he stood. He wanted to make the boy come to him, and he did quickly enough, but neglecting to leave the chunk of meat he was carrying in the kitchen where it belonged.

 

 

“What is it, father,” the boy said respectfully enough, yet between bites as he ascended the stairs. Bardock waited for him to get close enough that he could snatch the meat from him. He noted that the boy didn't flinch though the movement was swift and entirely unexpected.

 

 

“Show a little respect for your sire.” He glowered at the boy, a practiced look that had caused more than one adult warrior to back down a little.

 

 

“Yes sir,” Raditsu responded somberly. He kept direct eye contact, though. He didn't even blink.

 

 

“I have a job for you.” He handed the boy the ledger and scouter. “Take these to the address on the front of the ledger.” He looked him up and down pointedly and then cuffed him hard across the side of his face. “And clean up some before you go. You don't want to be wandering around near the palace grounds looking like some low life that doesn't belong there.”

 

 

“But father,” he still hadn't broken eye contact, didn't move to rub at the reddening welt on his cheek and didn't even hesitate questioning the command, “I'm supposed to be at the southern training grounds within the next few minutes. If I go all the way out near the palace first, I'll miss roll call.”

 

 

“And you'll be reprimanded for that, probably harshly. Sometimes that is the way of things and can't be avoided.” He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed with a reassuring firm grip. “In this case it will be best to accept what you are dealt without complaint or excuses.” He tightened his grasp to mark the utter seriousness of his next words. “Tell no one where you've been. Don't make a scene while you're there.”

 

 

He let go and turned sharply, heading back to his quarters. He entered and retrieved his own scouter and armor and contacted the landlord to let him know his son would be delivering and receiving the ledger for the duration of his on-world training. The landlord didn't like the idea so much but accepted it after Bardock let him know that it would look more suspicious to be running trivial errands himself when he had a trainee at his disposal.

 

 

Sure, Raditsu was bound to eventually get hassled by somebody for being in the wrong neighborhood, and eventually questions were going to be asked. If he was smart he'd be able to evade them, if he was as strong as his power level indicated, he'd be able to survive a fight with most anybody that decided to press the issue.

 

 

He realized he felt a little dizzy. The asteroid he'd carried out the instructions on had a very low oxygen level that must have compounded the failing results of the ki-manipulation. It was hard enough to control a chunk of power that intense to such subtle degrees when one could breathe properly, and then to have it trigger a partial transformation like it had… it still felt like all his guts were out of place and his brains were scrambled. He contemplated the meat he'd taken from the boy. Maybe eating something would help.

 

 

He took one bite and his insides rebelled. He doubled over, head spinning wildly now, and tried desperately to keep his stomach down. He succeeded in that regard but not in maintaining consciousness. His last thought was that it would be stupid to have to starve to death before he found out what his son made of himself.

 

 

***

 

Bardock opened his eyes and rolled over, tangling himself in the cushy comforter and simultaneously uncovering the demon as she dozed. Damn bed had to be all soft and full of pillows and blankets. What the hell was wrong with a firm, sturdy mattress and functional sleeping quarters? He fought the urges brought on by the sight of the oni's exposed body overlaid with a strong and disorienting sense of déjà vu. He went about finding his torn fatigues and wondered that the demon didn't wake from all the shuffling about he'd had to do. His head swam a little, but he fought through it. He had to get out of this room before he succumbed to the demon again; had to get the hell off the island altogether before he completely lost his mind. He slipped out the bedroom door without looking back.

 

 

He exited the room, greeted by reddish morning sunlight filtering in through the windows lining the balcony of sorts that separated the upstairs living quarters from the downstairs common areas…