Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Shiryou: Wicked Wishes ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

5:30PM

Bulma sighed as she looked at the progress the program was making on translating the book. It was afternoon and it looked as though it wouldn't even get through a paragraph until tomorrow morning. At this rate it would take a year to translate half the book.

She stared at some of the words it had translated, mouthing them to herself, "…kanda…estrata…montos…." She stopped and laughed at the strange words. "Okay, that made sense. Looks like I have the translate the translator." She sighed.

Okay, she'd have to work on the program's accuracy and speed. Easy enough. So, for the next few hours, she did just that. And, as had previously happened last night, she didn't stop working until a sound interrupted her.

"Woman!" Bulma jumped in her chair and turned to glare at the man who was leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face, holding his customary stance of arms folded across his chest. "Didn't you notice what time it is, woman?"

Bulma looked at her clock and shrugged, "Yeah. So?"

Vegeta scowled and moved into the room to stand in front of her desk, "So, it is time for dinner. Why aren't you making it?"

Bulma looked back down at sheet of paper that contained the program's variables, "You have two hands, Vegeta. I don't see why you can't make it yourself. I'm going to be busy with this for quite awhile."

Vegeta huffed and she looked up to see an incredulous look on his face. The Prince of the Saiyans had to fix his own food? "Now what, Vegeta?" She managed to sound slightly irritated through the feeling of mirth his expression gave her.

He stared down at her for long while, and she sighed and went back to her read-out. Growling he snatched the paper out from under her hands and fried it with a flick of his finger.

Shrieking, Bulma rose to stand imperiously over the now smirking man, "Vegeta! What do you think you're doing!? That was hours of work that you just destroyed, you idiot!" She glared, "For someone who's supposed to be so smart, you're pretty dumb. Now you definitely won't be getting dinner, or breakfast. In fact, take your pillow and sleep on the couch, buster!"

Vegeta's amused smirk at the beginning of her tirade turned into a frown by the end, "You're going to 'kick me out' of the bedroom, woman? You and what army?"

Bulma smiled triumphantly, "I do happen to have a few things that could make you do whatever I wished, but I prefer to use my brains on that," here she gestured toward the book, "then waste them on you. You can sleep up there if you want, but I sure won't be there. No," She glared at the remains of the paper, nothing but ashes. "I'll be stuck in here re-working that paper."

Vegeta glanced disinterestedly at the book and then tuned the woman out as he did a double take on the book again. He approached it curiously, "What is it?" He reached out a hand to flip the page.

"Don't touch it! You've messed up enough things as it is! The program I was trying to get working faster is translating it."

Vegeta gave Bulma an annoyed glare and turned back to the book, studying the writing intently.

"What?" Bulma was right beside him, peeved mood forgotten in inquisitiveness, "Do you understand it?"

Vegeta rose from his bent-over position and stuck his nose in the air, "Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to tell."

"Vegeta!" the word ended in a high-pitched warning tone. She sighed, "Fine. If you can tell me what some of that stuff means, I'll fix dinner."

"-And breakfast."

Bulma folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to one side, scowl reappearing, "No way. You destroyed hours of hard work. For that, no breakfast."

"And what about tonight?"

Bulma smiled, "Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to tell."

Vegeta growled low in his throat and weighed his options. Tell the woman, get dinner and maybe dessert. Don't tell her, get nothing. Boy, that was hard. It was no skin off his teeth to tell her anyways.

"Near as I can tell your machine has translated it into some phonetic, crude form of one of your Earth languages. I'm not sure which. I just learned them, I didn't ask which one I was learning. I'm surprised you didn't recognize it." He looked up at her, "What with you always gushing over how much of a genius you are. Takes an alien to tell you." He smirked, "Now. Dinner."

Bulma gritted her teeth and looked closer at the book. It still didn't make sense to her, but, then again, she hadn't learned any languages by looking at the phonetic spellings, but no need to boast. Let Vegeta think he had something over her. "You still haven't told me what it says. That was the deal."

Vegeta sighed, "It says something about 'evil'." Here he pointed out the word 'nosferatus' then moved his finger over to the word next it, "This is the conjugated form of 'kandar', second-person, meaning it's a command for the evil to 'come out'. In other words, it looks to be an invocation." He frowned, "What this says-it speaks of something that even a Saiyan would blanch at."

She looked at him with slightly widened eyes. It wasn't often that Vegeta basically admitted his people feared something. "What is it about?"

He frowned down at the book, "I believe you call it 'necromancy'. We called it the Forbidden Art. We decimated whole races that were even rumored to have this power. It's a mockery of life and death. It was not tolerated." He looked her straight in the eyes, looking as serious as he did when against a difficult opponent, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation, "Destroy it, woman. This is not something you want translated."

Bulma finally tore her gaze away from Vegeta's eyes and looked down at the book, forcing a laugh that came easier the second time she did it, "Oh come on, Vegeta. Have you ever seen anyone raise the dead? It's not possible. Besides, Capsule Corporation will profit from this find."

Vegeta still frowned, "I may not have seen the actual performing of it, but to say it isn't possible would be like saying dragons aren't real. We both know that's not true, yet many believe it is. Besides, what does a rich snob like you need with more money?"

Bulma nodded absently, watching as another word was translated, not really hearing the insult, "True. But it's not for money, Vegeta. The owner of Paxel Corporation's son is into demonology. Why, not six months ago I heard him going on and on about this stuff. He's what we call a 'Goth'.

"Paxel Corp. has a prototype for a new type of gun that will cut through anything; like a laser, but it cuts like a diamond. They can't get it past the initial run-through, but I can. I have this book, and I'm sure he can get much more use out of it then me."

She looked back up and was mildly pleased to see concern in his eyes. "As soon as it's translated it'll go straight to Paxel Corp. I'll keep it locked in the lab where no one but you or I can see it. Besides, only you and I know about it anyways." When his look didn't ease up, she sighed, "Look, I need this prototype. You want this book gone. When I get this prototype, the book is gone."

"No, the book won't be gone. It'll be in someone else's hands-"

She cut him off, "Vegeta! I know this son's mother! She's the owner of Paxel Corp. She let's her son do this, and she wouldn't let him do anything that would seriously harm him. It's an eccentricity with him. Even she has one, like you for me. Every genius is allowed one eccentricity." She smirked.

He looked shocked for a moment at being spoken of as Bulma's 'oddity'. He glared at her grin, and she held up both hands, palms outward, trying to stifle laughter, "If you hurt me, I can't make dinner!"

Vegeta shrugged, as if he couldn't care less. In one swift movement, he picked Bulma up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carrying her kicking and shrieking into the kitchen and depositing her on the floor, where she landed with a sound thump.

She looked indignant, and not a little embarrassed as Trunks was sitting at the table and chuckling at his parent's antics. She was not supposed to be entertainment for her son!

She got up and angrily brushed herself off, trying to retain some dignity as she turned to the stove. It was taken away when Vegeta pinched her bottom. She turned around with fire in her eyes as her son succumbed to laughter, quickly mumbling an apology as the glare transferred to him.

When the glare did not let up soon enough for Trunks's comfort, he decided a switch in topic would be in order. "Hey, mom. Is it okay if Goten stays the night? I invited him over." He grinned hugely.

Bulma glared for a little longer, letting him know that she wasn't thrown off, before she smiled, "Sure. Goten's always welcome over here. We'll go pick him up after dinner." Her smile fell as she glared at both son and Vegeta, who was just sitting at the table, "But I think both of you should go to bed early."

Trunks was the first to speak up, "But, mom! Goten and me are gonna wanna stay up all night! It's a sleepover! How can you have a sleepover if you can't oversleep?"

Vegeta snorted and opened his mouth to add his two cents, but was beaten to the punch, "I said you had to go bed early, not actually go to sleep. Your father and I have some business to take care of tonight. Right, Vegeta?" She looked innocently at Vegeta who smirked at her in return.

Trunks, as any six-year-old would, missed the innuendo, unsubtle as it was. He nodded once, "I'm gonna go call Goten right now!"

Bulma laughed at his exuberance and walked over to ruffle his hair and kiss him on the head, to which he responded by ducking low, embarrassed that his father had seen such a display, dashing out of the room.

Bulma chuckled and moved past the still seated Vegeta. She squealed when he pulled her down into his lap, settling her comfortably on his legs. "You shouldn't baby the boy like that." Bulma really doubted he was thinking of Trunks by the way he was holding her, among other things.

"I thought you were in desperate need of dinner?"

Vegeta started to nuzzle her neck, "Appetite's changed."

Bulma sighed and pushed herself off his lap, surprised that Vegeta actually let her go, "Weren't you ever told that dessert before dinner would spoil it?" She winked at him as she finally reached the stove and began preparing dinner; pleased to here an amused chuckled from behind her. Conscious of his eyes on her, she made sure to give him a proper show.

Fifteen entertaining minutes later dinner was done. Trunks came in as soon as he heard his mother utter the first syllable of his favorite d-word and both Saiyan men and one human woman delved into the food, the woman taking much less than the men, of course.

Immediately after the meal, Vegeta went to train while Trunks and Bulma picked up Goten, who took a little longer then planned as his mother had to make sure he had packed a small houseful of stuff into his pack. They arrived at home in time to see a beautiful sunset that was lost on the eager boys but not on Bulma. Trunks and Goten both darted into the house.

Bulma stood just outside the door, contemplating the colors and the perfect blending of them when she felt a pair of arms encircle her. She leaned back into Vegeta's chest and let out a soft sigh, "You're being awfully-loving."

Vegeta made a noise that sounded offended, "I'm marking my territory, woman. I'm not-loving. Not in the mushy sense you mean." His mouth had probably curled on that last sentence.

"Your what, Vegeta?" She tried to turn around but he effectively held her where she was, "I am not your territory!"

"According to this you are." His lips lightly brushed a moon-shaped scar on her neck and she couldn't suppress a shiver.

"Well then, what does this make you?" She brushed a hand over the self-same scar on his neck and felt him shudder underneath her.

"Woman..." The word was a warning growl that was not threatening.

Bulma laughed lightly, "Come on. I told the boys early. And it's early. Are you ready for bed, sweetie?"

He snarled at the pet name and lifted her up easily. She sighed and succumbed to the treatment as he carried her into the house. Well, this was kind of like being carried over the threshold, but it wasn't quite like she'd imagined it would be as the Saiyan was grumbling the whole way.

Both Goten and Trunks looked up as they entered the room and both wisely suppressed any laughter they had at the scene. It didn't look like Bulma would let it go unpunished this time. "Ok, boys, time for bed. That was the deal."

"Okay, mom! See ya in the morning!" Trunks got up and practically dragged Goten after him.

Goten managed to turn around and say a quick, cheery goodnight before Trunks dragged him the rest of the way upstairs, saying something about having a new game.

Vegeta stared up after the boys before looking down at the woman he held in his arms, "They're up to something. Or at least Trunks is. He went without a complaint."

Bulma shrugged, "Well, he's not technically going to bed yet, Vegeta. Besides, he's your son. Dragging poor Goten into every half-baked plan he comes up with. Manipulative, I tell you."

Vegeta looked amused, one eyebrow raised, "You think I'm manipulative?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, "Not at all, Vegeta! It was I who seduced you that first night. Don't you remember?"

Vegeta smirked, "I believe we both had a hand in that-and the other hand, and a tongue-"

Bulma tugged on Vegeta's shirt, "Less talking, more walking. I like action, buddy. You know that."

Vegeta smirked almost evilly, "Indeed I do, woman." He was practically purring and started walking quickly up the stairs to their room.

7:05PM

Trunks looked eagerly at his companion from where he sat across from him on the floor and put his end of the game down, "You think they're asleep yet, Goten?"

Goten looked up and frowned at Trunks, "Huh? Why'd you quit? I was winning!" he half-whined.

Trunks rolled his eyes. It seemed he was always doing that around his best friend. Well, he could excuse Goten. He was a year younger than him. "Do you think my mom and dad are asleep yet? And you were not winning! I was just about to beat you. I thought I'd just spare you the humiliation." He said the last in the haughty tones he heard his father use.

Goten shrugged and ignored the last comments, "Well, all those noises stopped, so I guess so."

Trunks nodded eagerly, "Good! I've got something really cool we can do."

Trunks's eagerness caught on and Goten grinned, "What?"

"Well, I heard mom and dad talking and they said something about something called necrapocy or something. It's some kind of book in mom's lab-"

Goten looked suddenly nervous and uncertain, "Trunks, your mom told us we should stay here. Besides, we're not allowed in your mom's lab. She said so!"

Trunks sighed with aggravation, "Jeez, Goten! We're not gonna get caught! Mom and dad are sleeping. I've done lots of stuff while they're in bed. I never get caught. Besides, the 'no lab' rule was for last week. Mom didn't say anything about this week." His friend still looked indecisive, so Trunks decided to be 'manipulative'. "Listen, if the door's locked, we'll come back up. Mom always locks it when she doesn't want us messing with things. Unless, of course, you're too chicken…"

Goten immediately jumped up, offense visible in every five-year-old line, "I am not chicken! Let's go Trunks, right now! I wanna see this necromancy."

Trunks stood up also, but sagely shook his head at the younger boy, "It's necrapocy, Goten." Then he eagerly took the lead, opening his door and peering down both sides of the hallway before motioning back to his friend and sneaking out the hallway.

Truthfully, each time he had 'snuck out' before it had been to get a drink or use the restroom or some other excuse that was quite legitimate and truthful. His father had known every time he had 'snuck out' and had monitored closely his progress through the house. This night, however, Vegeta was-occupied, so both boys went by Trunks's parents' room without bring caught and made their way downstairs and to the lab.

Before they were even three yards from the door, they heard a strange, almost rhythmic cadence with an undertone of the low moaning of a wind and the snap of branches from outside.

Trunks and Goten shared a wide-eyed look, stopping in the hallway to gaze at not only each other but also the door and the strange sounds coming from it. "Trunks, I think we should go wake your mom and dad." It came out as a harsh whisper.

Trunks's grin widened, "Are you kidding, Goten? We could be heroes! That's a robber I'd bet and we can nab him! We'll be just like our dads and your brother!" With no more words, and not a glance to see if his friend followed, Trunks trotted softly the rest of the way to the door.

Goten hissed "Wait up!" and followed after Trunks without any reluctance. The two were definitely stronger than any human. Besides, if Trunks wasn't afraid, what did Goten have to be afraid of?

Trunks smirked at Goten as he crept up beside him to stand anxiously at the door. Trunks made an unnecessary motion of quiet with his finger on his mouth. Hand on the doorknob; Trunks slowly turned it, pleased that his mom had, if fact, not locked it, and eased the door open inch by inch. Both boys peered into the door's slit, their half-Saiyan eyes adjusting to the lack of light quickly.

A black robed figure, hood up, posed dramatically, blue-hued light from Bulma's computer illuminating the wide eyes and grimaced face. The arms of his robe flapped as his hands, pale against the darkness of his clothes, swapped the air above a book that was open in front of him. Words rasped out his mouth in a harsh whisper that carried to the two boys easily. "Donde rosa! Kanda estrata montos!"

The man's arms waved in time to his chant, his whole attention focused on the book before him. Therefore, he did not notice the two boys sneaking into the room to flank him, Goten on his left, Trunks on his right.

Not that it mattered. The man arched his spine and threw back his head, his hood falling back to reveal blonde hair, screaming the last three words to the Heavens. Perhaps he should have screamed downwards. Heaven has an annoying habit of listening….

"KANDAR! KANDAR! KANDAR!"

Trunks and Goten shared an incredulous look before Trunks made a motion with his hand signaling that they would jump him at the same time. He held up his hand and one-by-one, put down each finger; a countdown.

Five….

Four….

Three….

Two….

One….

Both boys leapt at the intruder. Unfortunately, in throwing back his head, the man had spotted the two boys. A wicked grin lit his face as his whirled at them, dodging one and stabbing out at the other.

All three paused as if they were on display, each showing their reactions perfectly. The knife had hit its mark; it was only up to Time to reveal who had become the conduit for Evil unleashed.

The man's brown eyes twinkled in triumph. Now this power, all this power, would be his. No more Capsule Corporation, although he would've liked to know how the book ended up here-

But no matter. It was here, he had read it, and the Evil was awakened. Capsule Corporation would fall to Paxel now. Now, with the child dead, the Evil would house itself there, spread throughout the family. He would stop it once Bulma Briefs and all she loved were dead. He would crush all other opposition and destroy the book once it was past its usefulness.

Ah, to be as stupid as an evil person, such a liberty good guys do not have. The tool will always turn on its master, after all.

Trunks stared, wide-eyed. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He tried to suck in a breath of air, but the pressure centered on his chest wouldn't allow him to. It wasn't supposed to be this way!

Goten also gaped, slack-jawed. It had happened so fast. He should've seen it. He should've stopped it. He wanted to go back upstairs to Trunks's room and play that game. Then, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

Trunks watched in slow motion as Goten crumbled to the floor, tiny hands curled around the dagger in his chest. Blood flowed out the wound in a steady stream, pooling around the small body and staining the orange gi that Trunks could only look wide-eyed at. Goten's warm, brown eyes became glassy and Trunks could only stand there disbelieving as his best friend died.

Darren chuckled evilly and quickly moved toward the back door. With the boy so stupefied he needed to take the opening before the transformation.

The boy wasn't as stupefied as Darren thought he was, obviously, for he turned his blue, glacial eyes toward Goten's killer and suddenly lunged at him.

Darren, smirking, again leaned out of the way. This time, Trunks was using all his Saiyan speed. However, no one who had just lost their best friend at that age had any kind of mental clarity. While he did hit the man, he only managed to knock the book out of his hands and onto the ground. The book slid across the floor and went right under a table, unnoticed and completely hidden from sight.

Darren snarled and tossed the on-instinct boy aside. He opted for ignoring the boy to search for the now missing book. He became almost panicked, green eyes wide in shock. The book was gone! All that work! Finding the dragonballs, the messed-up wish, finding out the book was at the Briefs house…. He received a punch to his jaw for the disregard.

Trunks leapt back, prepared to charge the man again, beat him senseless really, when he heard a strange, high-pitched noise behind him. He turned around, half hopefully. The hope quickly turned to horror, a terror of such intensity it had his heart skipping beats and his whole body trembling.

Darren took this, wisely, as the cue to leave and was out the door unobserved, going toward the front of the house and his waiting car.

Goten was sitting up, chuckling in a nasal voice not his own as he looked amusedly at the knife sticking out of his chest. He turned white pupil-less eyes to Trunks and the chuckle rose to a full-throated, still high-pitched laugh. Goten's hands, now looking more like decayed flesh than anything that had once belonged to the sweet, smiling boy, locked around the hilt of the knife and painstakingly pulled it out. Actually, there was no pain for the possessed Goten now. There was no Goten period.

The boy formerly known as Goten raised the knife's blade to his mouth and slowly and sensuously licked the blood off, not missing a drop, eyes rolling in pleasure, his tongue caressing the metal. The smile plastered on the pale, drawn face was now coated in red.

Goten let out a shrieked laugh and threw the knife aside. Rising on unsteady legs, as if they didn't belong to him, Goten lurched upwards and stumbled toward Trunks. As soon as his very dead best friend's foot took one step, Trunks opened his mouth and let out the biggest, loudest scream his throat would ever utter.

* * *

The scene that met Ash as he kicked down the door with his foot was one that had him pull back in revulsion. In all his 'adventures' with the Deadites, they had never gotten a child. Of course, there hadn't been any children to possess. Not in the cabin, not in King Arthur's castle, not even in S-mart.

It was pretty easy to see the situation though. He didn't know how it had happened, but somehow this child, the wild, black-haired one, had been stabbed in the chest. He was possessed. And right now he was backing a purple-haired, purple!?, boy into a corner, and enjoying it in normal Deadite fashion.

With no more hesitation; that killed you in this line of work; Ashley J. Williams revved up his chainsaw and charged the boy with a yell.

The Deadite, with surprising quickness, perhaps not so much considering the young body, leapt backwards, making Ash stumble forward, his chainsaw inconveniently going through a wooden desk instead of dead flesh.

Ash felt inhuman, child's hands grab him with possessed strength as he struggled to get the chainsaw out of the desk and flung him over the Deadite to crash into a wall and thud to the ground. The chainsaw, luckily, came off his hand; otherwise he would have lost his entire arm.

Dazedly trying to shake off his blurry vision, Ash clung to the wall and tried to right himself before the boy made it to him. Too late as hands again closed around him, this time at his throat, tightening in an effort to squeeze the life out of him.

The usual garbage was coming out the child's mouth. 'I'll swallow your soul,' 'Dead by dawn,' and 'Join us' among them. Ash was too busy trying to pry the fingers off his throat to tell the thing to shut up. He really did get sick of those stupid lines.

The hands were suddenly torn from his throat and Ash hurriedly rose and swooped up the shotgun from the ground, pointing it straight ahead. He cursed as he saw the lavender-haired boy standing in his line of shot, pleads to his friend falling on dead ears.

The Deadite merely cackled and lunged at the boy, impossibly sharp claws aiming for the eyes. Ash cursed again and lunged at the boy also. He having the longer reach, he was able to push the child to the side. As Ash fell, things slowed down to a crawl. Ash was able to level his gun at the dead child's head as their lunges brought them ever closer together. He was able to fire the gun almost point blank at the child's face.

There was a loud bang, a puff of smoke, and a flash of light as time suddenly returned to normal. Ash smacked down belly-first on the ground, feeling the wind go out of him in a rush. The boy's body flew backwards from the force of the gunshot and landed like a rag doll on the ground a good six feet from Ash, face smoking, obscuring the ruined mass that was surely all that was left of it.

As Ash lay there, trying desperately to catch his breath and rise before the other did the same-well, not the whole breath-catching part, a sound behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder, halfway to his hands and knees.

A man stood in the doorway, the only indication he was there was the fact that his silhouette blocked out the light behind him. Without seeing his face, Ash could tell this was an imposing man, one who demanded respect upon sight.

Ash rose smoothly, pain forgotten and leapt back, toward the Deadite, preferring having a known enemy at his back than an unknown. The man stepped all the way into the light, a scowl seeming permanent on his features. He was so built it looked as if he was going to burst right through the dark-blue spandex bodysuit he wore. His hair was the strangest though. It was midnight black yet seemed to shift to auburn in a certain light. It stuck straight up from the man's head, meeting at a point like a giant flame. A widow's peak seemed the most prominent thing on his face, although those eyes, once noticed, made that pale in their intensity.

Those coal-black eyes swept the whole room, taking in the lavender-haired boy, the still body of the other boy, the chainsaw still running stuck in the desk, before settling on him, noting his own probably disheveled look and the smoking gun. One of the hands snapped up and a ball of some kind of light, heat radiating to Ash even from this distance, formed, pointed right at him.

Not one word was spoken, yet Ash knew that somehow, that little ball had his name written all over it, just like the death certificate he would be eligible for in a few minutes would.

The hand faltered, then dropped, revealing shocked eyes and something like-familiarity in their depths. Ash looked behind to find his hunch proven right.

The boy had risen once again and was cackling, although the sound was now warbled as the boy had only half a mouth to speak with and no lips at all, just a gaping hole that revealed blackened gums and half-there teeth. One of the eye's lower lids was now curled up, almost touching the eyelashes, which, with those white insides, gave it the appearance of some twisted artist's clay sculpture.

Ash made a reflexive gagging sound and swallowed bile, turning to face the monstrosity. He glanced at the man to the side of him to see him standing in front of the purple-haired boy, effectively blocking the boy from the hideous sight. Ash found he was starting to respect this man. The boy had seen too much as it was.

Ash turned back to the corpse, who was trying to rise and finding it difficult with its equilibrium lost. That wouldn't stop it for long though. In fact, it had even now risen to his hands, locking its legs out so that its feet touched the ground.

The voice beside him, rough yet surprisingly smooth in a way, startled him. "How do you kill it?"

Ash glanced at the man again to find him meeting his gaze steadily, seeing not a trace of hesitation in the face. Good. The man knew how to look at something without emotion. Ash turned his attention back to the child, who had risen all the way and was looking at both Ash and the other man in equal turns, probably to decided which to torture first.

Even Ash was finding this to be a little too much. He felt himself clench his non-existent hand. He'd had no hesitation there. It was kill or be killed-or rather be un-killed.

"Dismemberment is the only way." He was proud to find his voice steady. It was a child!

He felt rather than saw the man nod, "Good, then this will work just as well." All Ash saw a blinding flash of light. He heard a boom that shook the whole room and a child-like shriek of pain and thwarted evil. The backlash of the wind tumbled him, wide-eyed, right over himself.

Blinking, he stared up at the ceiling for maybe two seconds before rolling himself up and into crouch. His mouth dropped.

O-kay…. Where once there had been four walls and one possessed child, now there were only three walls. He frowned. Of course, his chainsaw was included with the blown-up child and wall.

Turning he caught the man kneeling down before the boy, shaking him lightly by the shoulders, "Trunks. Go upstairs to you mother. Now."

The harsh, familiar voice was obviously something the boy could cling to, for he nodded, the blank look falling from his eyes, and obediently did as told.

Ash felt some pieces slip into place. This man was the father to at least the purple-haired, purple?!, boy. The mother was upstairs. The boy would be with her. No one would be alone. Less happened when you were with someone else. Still….

"You might want whoever is upstairs to come down here." He looked at the now gone wall mostly to avoid the man's sharp gaze, "You have an-infestation."

The man folded his arms across his chest, the movement catching Ash's eyes and forcing him to look. Ash meet the eyes and let the guard he always had up slip slightly, allowing the man to see some of what he himself had been through.

Watching his friends die and be possessed one by one, cut up and buried, killing his own girlfriend, being possessed, only saved by the dawn's light, not being able to escape, having to cut off his own hand, watching even more people be possessed, defeating the evil only to be thrown back into time to fight the evil there, losing yet another love, being sent back to his time only to find the evil still there, and now this.

The man's black eyes absorbed the whole story seemingly, or at least the emotions of the story. The man smirked slightly and dropped his own guard, causing Ash to suck in a breath.

Taken away from family, home, and heritage when he was five, thrown into a kind of slavery, enjoying the enslavement, beaten, abused, his home destroyed by the monster he served, being defeated by a lower-class of his own race, striving to defeat his master, being killed by the monster, being brought back to find the lower-class had avenged his people while denying his heritage, striving to defeat him while attaining his birthright, having his enemy die by another's hands, finally finding someplace he might call home again, finding a family he was growing fond of, and now this.

Ash blinked out of the memories, the emotions of the memories, and met those eyes again; both men's masks back up. Ash returned the smirk he was being given causing the other man's to widen, "My name is Ashley J. Williams, but everyone calls me Ash."

The man tilted his head marginally, "Mine is Vegeta." He looked at the demolished wall, "We will go upstairs. I assume you have much to explain to us."

Ash nodded, wondering what kind of accent the man had, "Yes. It seems there's a certain book here-"

Vegeta's face darkened, "The book? Of necromancy?" He spun on his heel then and stalked out of the room, looking like he was going to punch something. After a few seconds, Ash followed. After that little display of power, Ash decided that this man's ammunition was slightly better than his own. Besides, the man obviously knew more than he was letting on. Besides, it seemed Ash's itinerary had just changed.

A/N: Oiy, I'm disturbed! O_o' Sorry about Goten (sniffles) It was a necessary evil? (dodges thrown objects) ^_# Hey! That hurt!

For those of you who don't know, this is crossed-over with the Evil Dead trilogy, done by the genius Sam Raimi. If you find yourself liking Ash, then I suggest you go to the original one, as he is not my made-up character. Watch Evil Dead, Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn, and Army of Darkness.

Also, look for Bruce Campbell (the great and mighty actor that plays Ashley) in Spiderman, coming out May 3rd! (heehee, I love plugging BC!)

SkittleKicks: roflmbo, Oh come one! You're telling me you didn't find any of it funny? I just have a twisted sense of humor is all…. o_O I know, I know! How dare I kill Goten! With me, no character is safe from death, dismemberment, or severe psychological torment. Outlet, you know.

Jadedbest: Deadites isn't a word I made up. I wish I was that smart. No, the sadistic genius of Sam Raimi has that pleasure. (sigh) Now there's a guy I'm striving to emulate. As you can see, he never possessed a child….

(sigh) Get ready for a wild night!