Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sarie Mue ❯ Cell ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: You know, if I did own Dragonball Z, I would buy all the ice cream in the world. However, I do not have a freezer big enough, and I'm actually lactose intolerant. So it's pretty good that I don't own DBZ.

 

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving! Bet you thought you'd never see us again. Well, I finally took some time with Howler to finish this up (we're married, if you didn't know), and it's finally done. Yay!

 

Prologue:

 

“It's really great that you could spare the time,” The Great Will said in a rare show of polite deference to her host-of-the-day.

 

“IT'S REALLY NO TROUBLE…OR IS IT?” the voice said ominously.

 

The Great Will laughed lightly. “Oh, you!” she said teasingly. “To think, I have THE Scary Movie Voice Announcer Guy to introduce this story. Oh, what should I call you, by the way?”

 

“WELL,” he began, causing a wave of tension to spread across the room, “MOST PEOPLE SIMPLY CALL ME...” the Great Will floated to the edge of her seat. “MR. VOICE GUY!”

 

Violins shrieked shrilly in the background.

 

The Great Will clapped her lily-white hands. “How do you do that?” she asked in wonder. “I mean…mood music pops up when you give your name? I'm the Great Will of the Macrocosm and even I don't get mood music! That's awesome.”

 

“I GUESS IT'S JUST A GIFT,” he said. “OR IS IT A CURSE!”

 

Again the Great Will clapped. “If I had a spine, that would have sent shivers down it,” she said. “Well, I won't keep you any longer. You probably should go ahead and announce the chapter.”

 

“BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!” he asked chillingly.

 

“Yes! Exactly. Go right ahead,” she urged.

 

A black field appeared.

 

“HE CAME FROM THE FUTURE,” Mr. Voice Guy began, causing white words to pop up on the screen as he spoke them.

 

The screen flashed a blurred image of a yellow spaceship blasting through the sky.

 

“HE WAS UNLIKE ANYTHING THE WORLD HAD EVER SEEN,” Mr. Voice Guy said.

 

A flash of a green larvae appeared, highlighted by a shrieking noise.

 

“HIS GOAL IS TO KILL…”

 

A flash of a human being sucked into a giant bug's tail.

 

“AND EACH LIFE HE CLAIMS…”

 

A flash of a green muscles rippling.

 

“MAKES HIM STRONGER!”

 

A flash of a green duck-bug-man roaring with power.

 

Music begins pounding with orchestrated voices singing Holst's Mars theme as rumbling noises and random shots of terrified people being slaughtered coalesce into one horrific montage of terror.

 

“HE IS…”

 

The scene ends with a violin shriek as the camera zooms in closer until only one of Perfect Cell's eyes fills the field, which promptly cuts to black again.

 

“THE PERFECT KILLER.”

 

The word “CELL” appears on the screen, filling it completely for a second before giving way to a list of actors, directors, producers, pop musicians and the ever-popular “This film is not yet rated.”

 

“Yes!” the Great Will shouted. “I love it! I want to buy a ticket now! You are the best!”

“YES I AM,” agreed Mr. Voice Guy. “OR…AM I?”

 

The Great Will, as much as she admired Mr. Voice Guy, was finally beginning to tire of the constant sense of impending doom that seemed to hover about him… especially when it just didn't make any sense. And so, with a wave of her hand, she sent Mr. Voice Guy to where she'd found him…trying out to narrate a diaper commercial.

 

***

 

“IT'S THE MOST ABSORBING DIAPER… THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN!” Mr. Voice Guy bellowed.

 

Women fainted, grown men curled up into the fetal position, and all the babies on the commercial set began screaming in fear of the new diapers. Needless to say, Mr. Voice Guy did not get the job.

 

“DAMN.”

 

***

 

Chapter 10: Cell

 

Needless to say, Sarie was tired of dying.

 

“I'm really tired of dying,” she commented to a passing tumbleweed, the tenth she'd seen in the past five minutes.

 

“And I'm really tired of barren wastelands,” she said a bit more heatedly to the scorching sun. For old times sake, she tossed it a crude gesture.

 

“And I really… REALLY… hate…,” she took a breath before shouting, “THIS SCHOOLGIRL OUTFIT!”

 

She glared impotently at the plaid woolen skirt and too-tight blouse. At least the last time she was transported into a barren wasteland, she had sensible clothing. This time, the Great Will hadn't even bothered to change her outfit.

 

“She must really hate me now,” Sarie sighed.

 

Even though the Great Will obviously despised her now, the god-like thing was taking revenge on her instead of just leaving her alone. Sarie began to wistfully think of her pink bedroom with its shoeboxes of souvenirs and lists of men who had taken restraining orders out on her. She could deal with a few charges of stalking and some jail time better than this. A least there she knew she'd dress practically.

 

But there was nothing for it. Her time in this horrible love-less limbo had taught her that a guy wasn't just going to jump in front of her and shriek “boo.” She was going to have to find him. Not that she was particularly interested in a guy right now. It was just something to do.

 

“BOO!”

 

Sarie whirled around and ran, not even looking at her attacker. She was way too scared. The world spun around her as she ran. Her feet pounded on the sand as she learned that sand wasn't the easiest thing to run on.

 

Gee… She thought sarcastically, this would be the perfect time for me to fall and twist my…

 

A sudden twist of irony in her ankle and down she went in perfect horror movie timing.

 

“Thought you could run away from me, didn't you? Pathetic human, you cannot run from fate.”

 

Sarie stared at the ground in confusion. For such sinister intent, her attacker sure did have a heroic voice.

 

“I am about to kill you, human,” the incredibly heroic voice went on. “And don't bother trying to figure out why. There really is no reason.” A mocking laugh. “You should really just consider it an honor to have your weak little shell of a body disintegrated by such a perfect being as myself.”

 

“WAIT!”

 

Sarie broke out of her stupor. Perfect? That struck a chord within her. She had been waiting for the perfect guy, and if he looked anything like his voice, then this was definitely her guy.

 

Slowly turning over, she saw a hulking green figure, a ball of energy bouncing across his outstretched fingers as he gazed at her with cold, black eyes.

 

“CELL!” she shrieked.

 

“Oh?” the ball of energy stopped bouncing. “You've heard of me? News of my impending reign of terror and destruction has finally pierced the thick skulls of your puny species? I hope you are properly terrified. It's so much more fun for me to kill you, then.”

 

“No!” she screamed. “I've read so many stories about you! I've wanted to get my arms around you since I read my first fanfic.”

 

“Fanfic?” Momentary confusion flashed across Cell's features.

 

“Er… Newspaper. Yeah!” She stood up now, daring to inch toward him.

 

He held his hand out, the ball of energy growing in intensity. “I'm bored with this. Prepare to be sent to the next dimension!” he bellowed, his mouth stretching disproportionately to his face.

 

Sarie, having long since lost her fear of death, actually rolled her eyes. What a stupid phrase, she thought. It must be the Frieza in him. Or possibly the Vegeta DNA.

 

Facing the glowing ball of death, an idea struck Sarie Mue. No one has read more Cell romance fics than me. And if I know Cell, all I have to do is turn up the heat a little and seduce him into becoming a good guy! Not only will I have the most powerful fighter in the world at my beck and call, I'll have saved the world. That'll show that stupid Gohan - letting me get trampled. The only downside is he won't kill Goku, but them's the breaks.

 

“But Cell,” she purred, sauntering seductively toward him. “If you're gonna make a girl explode, you should at least buy her dinner first.”

 

Cell paused, the energy ball actually stopping mid-pulse as she came with reach of him.

 

“I mean,” she continued, “there's certainly nothing I could do to stop you from killing me if you wanted to.” One hand reached out, a finger idly tracing circles around his thick outer shell as her other small hand gently wrapped around his outstretched arm.

 

“You're so powerful, so strong, so…” she took a deep breath, taking every advantage of her too-tight schoolgirl blouse, “so perfect.” She blushed ever-so-slightly for effect.

 

Drops of sweat began to appear across Cell's forehead, moistening his pointy green protrusions. The yellow ball of ki dancing at the end of his outstretched arm turned pink as she moved past it, placing her body nearly against his.

 

Encouraged, she continued. “And I'm just a weak, helpless girl.” She leaned in, laying her head across his chest “With no one to protect me from anything you want to do to me.”

 

Behind her, a mountain collapsed as Cell lost control of his ball… of energy. It shot across the dessert, burrowing deep into the mountain before exploding in a terrific blast. Even though his hand was behind her when it shot, the heat from the release tore her too-tight blouse at the shoulder, leaving the fabric dropping dangerously low.

 

She took a step back. “So how about it? I'm yours for the killing. If that's what you really want to do…”

 

Cell's arm dropped slowly back to his side. “I may, er, have a use for you. Perhaps I'll use you to learn more about this pathetic planet before I destroy it.”

 

She sighed deeply, nearly finishing off her already damaged shirt. “If that's what you want.” She gazed at him. “I'm yours to command.”

 

***

 

Of all the things we could have done, he wanted to go out to dinner, she thought. Of all the cities in the world, he picked Satan City. Of all the restaurants we could have gone to, he picks the same overpriced French joint - Le Fartressance. The green goon demands they bring us two of the most expensive dish on the menu and what do they bring?

 

“Revolting,” Cell said, his mouth full. “Roast caribou with raspberry sauce. The corn stuffing and spinach leaves are disgusting as well. Perhaps my sense of taste is so far superior to humans that you cannot tell what you're eating. Do you enjoy this?”

 

Sarie Mue was looking as green as Cell, having attempted to force down at least a respectable amount of the putrid gourmet dish. “No,” she said, swallowing back her own bile. “I don't.”

 

“Very well.” He stood up, vaporizing the table with a casual beam of energy. “We're leaving,” he said to the maitre'D. “I really should destroy this entire establishment, but I'm supposed to be on my best behavior while I'm learning about this planet. Is that your Kia outside?”

“Oui, monsieur, but I do not understand why zat is important…”

 

Cell and Sarie left through the same hole in the wall Cell had blasted for them to enter. (His wings really got in the way of doors.) Cell shot a ki blast over his shoulder, setting the Kia on fire.

 

“Monsieur, mademoiselle!” screamed the panicked Frenchman. “Sacre bleu! My car! Why would you do zis? Zis is not Paris!”

 

“Next time, warn us about the caribou!” Sarie screamed.

 

***

 

“Down in front, you jerk!” someone screamed from the back of the theater. “What the hell kind of hat are you wearing? That's the stupidest looking thing I've ever seen!”

 

Cell and Sarie, for their part, were thoroughly engrossed in the film.

 

Cell was laughing hysterically. Sarie was feeling almost as nauseous as she had during dinner.

 

“This is wonderful!” Cell said aloud, not caring if he bothered other people in the theater. “The killer clown is torturing the people with the hope of escape and forcing them to maim and kill themselves!”

 

“Yeah,” said Sarie, somewhat less enthusiastically. “That's um… great.”

 

After one particular gruesome involving a hacksaw, a gun attached to a string, a keyhole, a Kenny G album, a hamster, cooking oil and a turkey baster, Cell actually took out a notepad and began jotting down notes.

 

“That's it!” Sarie said. She took Cell by the hand and led him out of the theater, explaining to the manager that the film was too violent. He was kind enough to give her free passes to any other film showing.

 

This time, Cell chose “Get Rich or Die Tryin'.” The manager lifted an eyebrow, but wisely kept his mouth shut as he handed them the passes.

 

The manager had learned early on in the movie business that when a seven-foot tall bug man wants to see a movie, one lets the seven-foot tall bug man go see the movie. He'd tried to stop one only once. He looked down at the stump where his right hand used to be. One mouthful of digestive acid spit was enough for any theater manager. Curse that Jeff Goldbloom!

 

***

 

“I've decided!” Cell bellowed (did he ever not bellow?) as they left the theater. “I now have a dream.”

 

“And what is your dream?” Sarie asked cautiously, still reeling from the gratuitous violence, weak plotlines and terrible acting.

 

“To have a dream!” Cell answered. “I shall become a rapper!”

 

“A rapper?” Sarie asked.

 

“No. Not a rapper. The most powerful rapper in the universe!”

 

“Of course,” she mumbled.

 

“Take me now to a club where I can spin my mad rhymes, yo!” he commanded.

 

Sarie knew that if she took him to such a place, Cell would be attacked and lots of honest, hardworking thugs would get ki blasted. But she couldn't refuse. So what to do?

 

“I know just the place!” she said. “It's called “The Singing Funbox.”

 

***

 

Typically, the Funbox was a nice sort of place for overworked Japanese businessmen to go after work. They'd knock back a few drinks, belt out a few tunes and return home relaxed and somewhat refreshed. Tonight it was not quite as relaxing.

 

The seven-foot tall bug creature had an amazing powerful voice. It was not a good voice, but it was powerful.

 

“You MUST lose yourself in the music, the moment, and own… um.. One shot! Do not blow!” Cell shouted, oblivious to the beat blasting from the speakers.

 

No one dared make a sound for fear of being charred to a husk like the first and only overworked businessman to boo at Cell. That had been before he'd even begun to sing when he took to the stage in a hooded sweatshirt, his headprongs making the hood look like the pope's hat. The man had died for good fashion sense.

 

“Mom's spaghetti is the last chance! Opportunity vomit! I'm the REAL SLIM SHADY!”

Cell screamed.

 

The beat continued. Cell, having run out of lyrics, blew up the sound system. He turned back to the crowd.

 

For a second there was only stunned silence. Then the now sobered-up businessmen realized he was finished singing and began applauding as if their lives depended on it. Which, of course, their lives did.

 

Cell, pleased with himself, grabbed Sarie and flew away into the night.

 

“Never have I felt so alive!” Cell screamed. “Except for when I absorbed the androids, but that doesn't count.”

 

Sarie, for her part, didn't know whether she was still up for the big seduction or not. Cell was powerful, and he had a sexy voice - when speaking, anyway. But he was still a giant bug and he still liked to blow things up. And he looked absolutely ridiculous in that sweatshirt.

 

They landed in the desert where they'd met. And Cell turned to her.

 

“You have shown me so much in just this one day! I could not possibly destroy your planet now. There is so much to do here - so much to see!”

 

“Really, Cell? You're not just joking with me?”

 

“Of course not! And you must be my mate!”

 

So they had finally come to it. “Your mate?” Sarie asked, as frightened as she was excited. “You mean we're going to… Play Mah-Jong?”

 

Cell turned away and lifted his arms. Giant chunks of rock ripped up from beneath the desert floor, flying through the air and eventually forming themselves into a fair approximation of a house.

 

“This shall be our castle! You will be my queen!”

 

Sarie fell into his arms. “Oh Cell! I can't believe I've finally found the one! I've searched worlds to find the one man I could spend my life with. One man that would give me everything I want and need. One man I could play Mah-Jong with until my eyes crossed! You've made me so happy.”

 

They entered the house. Sarie found it somewhat Spartan, but there was furniture of a sort. It was just made of sub-desert stone. Whatever. She'd have years to decorate it to her liking.

 

He led her through a passageway into a circular chamber. A sticky, waxen substance covered the walls, forming a series of indented niches. “And this shall be our mating chamber!”

 

“What's that?” asked Sarie Mue.

 

Cell picked her up and with a casual toss she flew through the air into one of the niches. The goo seemed to hold her in place like flypaper.

 

“Cell,” she squeaked nervously. “I'm not sure how you're used to playing Mah-Jong. But this isn't the kind of game I'm used to.”

 

“Then you'd better get used to it!” Cell growled. The process has begun. In order to produce a full hive, we'll need to mate at least every fifteen minutes for the next 12 hours.”

 

“A full hive?” she shrieked.

 

“Of course,” Cell said, his tail extending from his hind quarters. “I inject eggs into your abdomen with my ovipositor, and then they'll gestate for several weeks. I'll bring you food, of course, so your warmth will protect them until they are ready to rip their way out. Isn't that how humans go about this?”

 

There was no answer, of course, as Sarie had passed out at “ovipositor.”

 

“My lovely queen,” he smiled, his tail extending toward her.

 

***

 

The Great Will of the Macrocosm had at times been accused of being a sadist. But even she had her limits.

 

“Why do I keep fixing her up with villains in the first place! It never turns out well… oh, yeah… it's because I'm tired of her and I want revenge.”

 

A figure whimpered in the corner.

 

“Oh, shut up,” the Great Will snapped at the whimpering figure.

 

“But… what are you going to do to me?” the unattractive, fat, white-and-black woman whined. “Isn't anyone going to save me!”

 

The Great Will sighed. “No, no one is going to save you. At least, no one you know. That's why you make perfect bait. You're underappreciated.”

 

“AURGH! This is just great! First I date Xandir because he's a flaming homo, and I haven't eaten in 30 minutes! I'm malnourished! And no one understands me! I hate myself! If my hands weren't tied, I'd cut myself!… Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say that out loud?”

 

The Great Will sighed loudly. “Yes, Toot, just like you say everything else out loud that comes into your overfed head. You know, I don't know why I kidnapped you. I don't think Chichi even wants you.”

 

“And, you know, you're right.”

 

The Great Will turned with a gasp. If she hadn't been so distracted with Sarie and the least popular character of Drawn Together, she, of course, would have sense the approach of her arch-nemesis. Even an all-powerful being can be taken by surprise.

 

Chichi grinned, leveling a bazooka straight at the Great Will. Of course, no one really knew what would happen if Chichi fired the bazooka. Would she kill the Great Will? Would the projectile merely go through the Great Will, blowing up Toot much to the joy of everyone? Would the projectile merely float in the oblivion encompassed in the Macrocosm? Would it collapse dimension, cross timelines, kill squirrels with molding, and simply wreak havoc on all existence?

 

“You wouldn't dare,” the Great Will uttered gutturally. “You don't know what would happen.”

 

Chichi laughed cruelly. “And you think I have that much to live for? You took everything away from me. My husband. My house. My life. My dignity… Everything.”

 

The Great Will rolled her… stars. “I took you away from a small house hundreds of miles away from everything. I took you away from the lonely life of cleaning house and worrying if everyone you love has gotten killed. I took you away from a husband who is a terrible Mah-Jong player. I made you what you are today!”

 

“You gave me to William Shatner as a love slave! I'm the one who ran away! I made myself what I am today!”

 

The Great Will glowered at Chichi's logic. Yes, the Great Will hated Chichi beyond reason and scope. She hated Chichi more than a DBZ yaoi fan, which is saying a lot.

 

However, the woman was pointing a bazooka at her, so she had to watch her words carefully.

 

Plus, something she'd said earlier was nagging at the Great Will.

 

“What did you mean earlier? About not wanting…” The Great Will suddenly noticed that the black-and-white, annoying Drawn Together character had effectively eaten through her bonds (a mean feat, since she'd been shackled with metal). The woman had also eaten through a wall, some insulation, sanitation piping, and a fuse box to get outside.

 

“What, do you mean her?” Chichi sniffed disdainfully. “She's worthless. Absolutely nothing to contribute to my organization.”

 

The Great Will laughed suddenly, sharply. “You hypocrite. What, now you're discriminating? That's what you've been fighting against. You see, I understand your cause. I just disagree with your methods. But now… you're going against your own cause. You… you just love the power.”

 

Chichi was almost growling with anger. “That's where you're wrong, Willy. My cause has always been about underrated, abused characters. People who have a lot to contribute, but are not allowed their dues.” Chichi smirked Vegeta-like. “I care nothing about abused characters who deserve the abuse.”

 

Suddenly, the Great Will heard a roar outside. Rushing to the window, she saw Toot join the ranks. And they were ranks. In fact, an entire legion of abused (but useful) characters, all brandishing their preferred weapons. Krillen was in the forefront, two destructo discs in hand. Wile E. Coyote was setting up a complicated system of pulleys and explosives, employing birdseed and ACME bat costumes at various intervals. Neville Longbottom was still with the crew, even with the newfound respect he'd been given in the fourth Harry Potter movie, and he was probably loaded with all the spells he'd learned in the fifth book. Jonathan Levenson was preparing some spell including smelly herbs and a Portuguese limerick. And Jar Jar Binks… had one of those weird bomb things from the first movie. People were backing away from him, expecting him to drop the bomb on his foot at any moment.

 

“You've come to attack me…” the Great Will whispered.

 

Chichi joined her at the window. “Because you oppose us. We will eventually wage war against all the heroes… and the movie directors, authors, animators, and networks that make our lives miserable. But first… you have to die.”

 

The Great Will growled. “Mistake one.”

 

With one of her deceptively-weak-looking, slender white arms, the Great Will pushed Chichi out of the window. It was quite a fall, one that only Hercule or Wile E. Coyote could mysteriously survive. Chichi's followers, their defenses forgotten, ran to catch her.

 

“I should have done this a long time ago,” the Great Will screamed, almost mad with fury.

 

Suddenly, the benevolent starfield turned purple, and then red. Tendrils of black power rolled off the god-like being out of the window. The ground under the army turned into a vortex. Various characters held up signs that said things like “yipes.” The characters that could fly were pulled under by tentacles. The final person, Chichi, screamed like the banshee she was as she was pulled down into the gloom.

 

The ground closed up, and not a blade of grass was damaged.

 

The Great Will dusted her hands, now in a much calmer temperament. “As I said, I should have done that a long time ago. With some of their talents, it won't take them long to break free of that dimension. But it does afford me time for a plan of attack.”

 

The Great Will paused, remembering that Sarie was still floating around in her. She remembered Chichi's smirk.

 

“Oh, why not? Sarie deserves some good Mah-Jong.”

 

Chapter 11: Vegeta