Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sympathy For The Devil ❯ Red and Green... ( Chapter 9 )

Warnings: Possible character deaths, major violence

Author's Notes: Eternal glomps and lollypops to the wicked awesome Ginia for betaing and putting up with my randomness, mistakes, and arguments. *laughs*

Red And Green…

His mind spun as he fled, breath caught in his throat and vision fuzzy. Moonlight left shadows on his body as he darted down the corridors, refusing to think as rage and jealousy began to accompany the confusion and disbelief. Turles was dead… and a part deep inside Kakarrotto was pleased that the competition had been eliminated by the prize, itself.

Another part of Kakarrotto screamed that Turles' blood should currently cover his own hands, and Vejita should be on his knees at this moment, moaning his new king's name, begging for more, for pain….

The human side of Kakarrotto was trembling in fear, and so he did what first came to mind - he fled.

Rushing through the castle doors, the warrior came to an abrupt halt as a wave of insanity and madness struck him in the form of the scent of blood. He slowly turned from the walkway to face what he expected to be the shimmering city of Vejitasei's capital. Kakarrotto expected lights burning to offset the morbid-ness of night. He expected to see Saiyajin warrior soaring through the heavens like dark angels.

Onyx eyes trembled as they fell upon Furiza. The Icejin hovered above the planet, body aglow from the fires that slowly engulfed each building, turning corpses to ashes, beauty to destruction. Men, women, and even young Saiyajin children hovered above the mayhem, not caring about their homes or the lives of those who had already met their fates. They fought mercilessly - Saiyajin against Saiyajin, Saiyajin against Furiza's troops. Cries of war and death accompanied the thick musk of blood and the sounds of the raging fire. Through it all, Furiza's mad laughter sang like a bird at dawn. The voice was filled with sadistic amusement and pure joy. The Icejin took notice of nothing but the mayhem that filled the air.

Kakarrotto trembled with rage.

His people were dying for his madman. The Saiyajin Empire… HIS Saiyajin Empire was falling apart. Blinded by the anger, he took to the skies. As he approached the mad Icejin, his skin crawled at the memories of cold nails digging into his skin, of painful thrusts that caused blood to stain silk sheets. These thoughts were no longer met with teary eyes and trembling confusion.

Before Furiza, he halted.

"Ah… Bardock! At last!" purred the Icejin, lidded eyes gazing at the young Saiyajin. "I've learned your games, Bardock." Furiza reached out, cupping Kakarrotto's cheek, moist lips drawing into a smirk. "I've turned the noise out. Hear it? Not I… not you… not them." Furiza gestured to the madness around them. "They don't see what we see…."

"I am not Bardock!" Kakarrotto snarled, ki burning in his palms. Sweat beaded down his forehead as midnight eyes watched the lunatic. Furiza, however, had no interest in the Saiyajin's words.

"They don't hear what the sight's whisper." Furiza began to slide forward, and Kakarrotto remained motionless, eyes narrowing, guarded. "But we hear… we hear those whispers, you and I. Connected, mentally - I see you." Furiza's fist snapped out, connecting with Kakarrotto's nose, shoving the bone into his brain. The Saiyajin, dazed as painful white spots flashed before his eyes, clutched his bloody nose.

Below, standing aside indifferent, Zarbon couldn't help a faint sigh of despair. "Of all the ways to die," he muttered, his large eyes watching the Icejin above. Furiza stood close to Kakarrotto as he raised his hand skyward. All life began to slow as ki formed within the outstretched hand, growing brighter with each breath. It was hauntingly familiar, the way the nearly full moon and the twinkling stars were outshone by the mighty mockery of the sun.

"Holy shit!" shouted a crude voice beside Zarbon. A beaten and bloody Jeice landed beside the green changeling. His beady black eyes were twitching in disbelief. "Has Furiza-sama lost his mind?!" The fire-skinned alien spun, frizzy hair snapping with the sharp movement.

Zarbon drew his gaze away from the hovering duo, eyes running up and down the Ginyu Geek. He wasn't the most beautiful thing Zarbon had ever fallen upon, but he was quiet eye-catching, hardly ugly. The voice was far too loud and filled with self-confidence. Zarbon's eyes lingered on the tight fabric that covered the lower regions of the warrior's body, taking note of the fine curves that were emphasized by the dark gi. "Yeah," he responded with an almost careless shrug, gaze jerking up when Jeice shifted uncomfortably beneath the intense eyes. He chuckled, turning back to his master and Furiza's favored pet. "Yeah, Furiza-sama has indeed."

At first, as the pain settled and his vision cleared, Kakarrotto thought he'd gone blind. It seemed the sun was mere inches from his face, but the coldness of the power quickly stripped him of such an idea. He gazed down, vision locking on Furiza within mere seconds. The Icejin was chuckling softly gazing without focus on Kakarrotto. "You and I, Bardock. No more Vejitasei, no more Saiyajin… merely you and I."

It was obvious. Despite Furiza's madness and the mind of simplicity that the young Saiyajin possessed, he knew Furiza's every movement, every thought. The desperate need for release in Furiza's mind reflected in his cold eyes, and for that brief instant, Kakarrotto pitied the Icejin. Gently, he nodded, extending his hand to brush across the frozen cheek. "You and I," he whispered, leaning forward.

Their lips met softly, and lingered for only a brief moment. It was more than enough time, however. Kakarrotto could feel Vejita nearby, faintly, frozen in his rage and terror. Cautiously, Kakarrotto pulled back, only a bit just enough to part their lips. Furiza's eyes were closed, chest moving slowly, matching each beat of their hearts. Kakarrotto reached out, touching the Icejin's hips and pulling their bodies closer together. "Touch me, Furiza," he pleaded huskily before reclaiming the cold lips.

Furiza's hands dropped to encircle Kakarrotto, releasing his possession of the massive ki above them. It quickly began to descend and Kakarrotto ripped himself away in terror.

He realized he wouldn't get away in time.

~*~

Silence had engulfed time when the light had outshined the moon for that brief moment. The fires had raged on, but battle had all but halted. Above it all, the rightful prince hovered, eyes wide. Again! Time was repeating, but now what was meant to happen would. Vejitasei should have been destroyed, but its prince was meant to perish with it.

All the Saiyajin knew that if they survived this moment, Furiza would never again be disobeyed. In that blink of an eye, Furiza had achieved everything he had ever desired of the Saiyajin race - pure passionate loyalty. It terrified Vejita to his core. Until this moment, he had never feared death, but it was here, staring him in the face fiercely, hungry for his soul.

Then it fell, and the fear for his own life was replaced by the horror that Kakarrotto would not escape the blast's path. He snarled, power building in his hands. With a feral cry, Vejita sent everything he had at the bomb of ki. He roared, not caring if he became mute because of his scream. The power shot from his bloody palms, hitting the forefront of the blast. Red battled blue, but Vejita knew that he could not send the blast into the heavens, away from his planet.

That wasn't his goal.

He heard Kakarrotto's shrill scream of anguish before it was engulfed by the explosion. The power of the blast sent him flying to the ground. Vejita clung to the earth as he felt the world tremble beneath him.

Moments passed, and the blast settled. Vejita climbed to his feet and rushed across the valley, eyes growing wide at the crater that had been created. His eyes wandered, searching almost desperately. Where was… there! Through the rubble the faint color of dark green shone just softly. Jumping forward, he descended and knelt down beside the limp form, shoving away rocks. "Kakarrotto… you fucking baka!" he growled, gripping bare skin and hauling the young warrior up.

"O…Ouji?" Kakarrotto whispered, wavering. Vejita wrapped an arm around his waist, helping the Saiyajin stay upright. "So… what, you'd die for Furiza now? You love the damn Icejin that fucking much!" He growled, eyes circling their surroundings, searching for Furiza.

The Icejin was dead… he had to be.

~*~

Bland eyes stared without interest. A limp appendage floated a few feet away in its own fluid-filled container. If Burter lived through the night, it could be reattached, but if he died, which was very likely, the doctors wouldn't bother. Nearly the entire Ginyu Gang had perished during the battle. Enraged Saiyajin during an approaching full moon were a force to be reckoned with. Burter, for the moment, was on the brink of death, breathing only because of the tube shoved down his throat.

In shock, as well as a bit dazed and confused, Zarbon watched the alien's chest rise and fall. The hospital wing of Furiza's ship was filled. None had bothered with the dead, leaving their corpses on the battlefield. The Saiyajin would spit on their bodies as they gathered their own dead… and they would. When the days calmed and Vejita reclaimed the throne - which Zarbon expected he would - the honorable warriors would gather their dead and pray for their spirits as the bodies were burned, ashes buried in the sands. There was some kind of ceremony for Saiyajin that died in war, but he didn't know the details. It seemed very unlikely that Saiyajin would pray. Vejita had never once been down on bent knees, whispering to ghosts or gods. He briefly considered approaching Vejita with the question, but he shoved the absurd idea aside within moments. He and Vejita would never exchange words again.

"Sir Zarbon?"

Glancing to the side, he acknowledged the short bug-like doctor. The man bowed his head and moved to the healing individuals, administering drugs and the such with patience, never once approaching Burter.

Why was Zarbon still alive?

The thought struck him hard inside, though outside he didn't even flinch. Furiza was dead, and he still lived. It seemed a sin. Never once, in all his life, had Zarbon considered the idea he would outlive the Icejin. He felt cold, suddenly - incredibly disgusted with himself. It seemed as if he had betrayed something inside his soul. He was exhausted - tired of breathing, of living. He wanted the pounding of his heart to stop, to slow, to offer him some peace for just one brief moment. The morbid thoughts ran rapidly through his mind, one following the other, over and over again until they became nothing but a meaningless sorrowful chant. Everything, all the years of serving the Icejin lord had been worthless. Now he was free, but no longer did he have a purpose.

Never once, during all his years of serving the Icejin, had he considered a life without Furiza.

Turning away - no longer able to bear the clean scents and endless line of the wounded and dying, Zarbon left the small mockery of a hospital room, pacing calmly down dark corridors. No longer were there important tasks in need of his attention, places he needed to be, conversations he needed to have… soldiers in need of punishments. Zarbon felt worthless. He had no duties, no goals, no purpose or place at all. What was he worth now? An unemployed slave who had loved his job, loved each torturous moment strapped to the sheets, his body abused and loved in the most violent manners a madman's imagination could conjure. Each moment had been hell-full bliss.

"DAMN IT!"

The scream ripped through the air, filled with rage and anger. It caused Zarbon to halt mid-stride, spinning towards the closest door with shock. He advanced upon the cracked doorway, shoving it open and stepping forward, eyes widening. Jeice, the only living member of the Ginyu Force - excluding Burter for the current moment - leaned against the wall, forehead against the bland colors, hands fisting tightly, knuckles a pale pink shade. Jeice trembled, panting for breath.

"Not the only one," Zarbon sighed somberly.

Jeice jumped, falling down into a defensive position, hands fisted with his lips pulled back, teeth gleaming. He was enraged and - without asking, Zarbon knew - lost.

They were both very lost.

"Get out of here you freak! Fucker! Go! LEAVE!"

Zarbon remained motionless, watching the rage almost curiously. Why hadn't he reacted so viciously, like Jeice had? Why was Jeice reacting so angrily? Why wasn't he sitting calmly, realizing the fruitlessness of such passionate emotions? The rage only grew at Zarbon's calmness. "Damn it! What's your deal?!" A colorful stream of curses followed that would have even caused Furiza to blush. Zarbon smiled faintly at the thought. The Icejin had always appeared so innocently cute when he'd blushed.

"They're all dead, Jeice," Zarbon muttered quietly, unsure why. He watched Jeice's eyes widen before, once again, outrage broke. "You think I don't know that, you sick bastard?!" He lunged, catching the beautiful changeling off guard.

The first array of fists actually struck Zarbon. It only took a brief moment before he finally reacted. He gripped one of the red fists, hand tightening until the bones cracked beneath the embrace. Jeice snarled, struggling for long moments before finally ripping himself away.

Eyes still locked on the crimson-skinned warrior, Zarbon was astounded by the rushing blood within his cold veins. A faint smile drifted across his lips. Jeice hadn't lost everything, he realized. Jeice still had that fire!

To Zarbon's great amusement, he felt something returning, burning inside of him, at the site of that blazing life burning inside of enraged alien. "You're alone, Jeice," he grinned, slowly stalking forward.

He wanted to snuff that fire out.

"You fucking prick! Don't you think I know that! Lord Furiza… Ginyu… Burter…."

"You weren't strong enough," he watched the rage grow. It never failed on Vejita, and it would not on Jeice. "You couldn't protect them from those damn worthless monkeys!" His heart was pounding, the flow of blood echoing in his ears. Who was he speaking to? Himself? Jeice? "You are a shame to your crew! To Furiza! They mock you IN HELL!"

"FUCK YOU!" Jeice roared, lunging. Easily, Zarbon sidestepped the attack, batting Jeice to the wall like a fly. It cracked beneath the weight. With ease and grace, he turned. "You should be punished, Jeice."

He pushed away from the wall, but did not turn to face the changeling. The fire-skinned alien stood still, hands limp at his side, shoulders slumped. There was a quiet whisper, but Zarbon did not need to ask what he'd said. He knew what Jeice had said… because he needed the punishment too.

Zarbon moved forward and grabbed his shoulder, turning the younger warrior around and shoving him against the wall. Wide black eyes watched him with fear and confusion. This warrior had killed thousands, serviced Furiza in ways that only Vejita and Zarbon knew, and yet he feared. Zarbon scowled. He was sick of the acts, the games. He was sick of the entire ritual called life. "Cope," he snarled, shoving his fist into the fire-red nose. Jeice's head struck the wall, thudding. Blood dripped from his lips where he had bit his tongue.

Leaning down, Zarbon captured the crimson lips, tasting the sweet fluid. He relaxed against the soft touch, allowing one arm to circle the other's narrow waist. Jeice did not accept the embrace, but he did not pull away. Zarbon didn't care, didn't mind if Jeice just let it happened. Maybe he had been wrong. The fire inside the young warrior was already extinguished. There were only a few smoking ashes left, and with each quiet breeze they almost returned, but breezes never lasted for very long.

Just for a brief moment, Zarbon heard a quiet whisper in his thoughts, an echo of words spoken days ago, the voice that could only belong to his lord, Furiza. "Red and green…."

~*~

TBC