Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Taking Chances and Leaps of Faith ❯ In Which There is a Near Distant Future ( Chapter 10 )

A near distant future…..

The foulness of the prison did not bother Demissie as he sat on his molding bed, clutching a wooden bowl tightly in his hands. In fact the dank and filth merely complemented his current mood. Narrowing his sunken eyes, his slender, pointed ears quivered as he heard the soft tapping of footsteps. His slender nose twitched; he could smell the flowery scent she always wore, the one he at once detested and loved. Standing to his full height of 6'4, Demissie set his bowl on the bed, and leaned against the bars as he waited for the savior to appear.

She turned the corner and Demissie resisted the inane urge to gasp. She was looking exceptionally beautiful today. Her long curls of aquamarine were twisted into a messy knot, and strands had fallen free to frame her pale, angular face. Her dark eyes stopped on him, and they seemed to close, guarding her inner thoughts. Cherry lips, full and bountiful, pursed instinctively.

The beautiful woman halted a few feet away from his cell. Demissie devoured her body clad in a soft dress of white that clung to her curves, outlining the faint muscles in her legs. A soft shawl of blue was thrown carelessly over her bare shoulders to protect from the cold.

"Hello, Bra," Demissie drawled, "Come for our daily session. You are looking extremely lovely this day."

"And you look the same as ever," Bra murmured, her eyes taking in his dilapidated appearance. Although the years in prison had drained him, physically and somewhat mentally, Demissie was still a powerful figure, especially in Bra's frame of mind. He had not developed the stooped look of most prisoners, preferring to stand at his imposing height. She had always felt so small when positioned next to him.

He was lanky now, his muscles having faded from lack of exercise. Instead of ruining him, it only enhanced his dark beauty. Demissie's hair was black as night, though long and straggly from misuse. His face was sunken from poor diet, but his eyes were as bright and intelligent as ever, sapphire, a paradox unto themselves. She had always wondered how such beautiful eyes could be bestowed on a man so evil. No, not a man, she corrected silently, an Elrondian.

The magic the fair people possessed had kept his beauty, though it was diminished. In the height of his power, Demissie had been considered the most beautiful in the universe, and Bra had been his lover. Demissie had loved with an intense passion, and he had nearly swallowed her whole. However, Demissie had hidden thoughts, hidden desires that Bra had known nothing of. She cringed now, to remember the evil with which he had spoken, the worlds he had destroyed in her name.

Demissie knew her thoughts and he grinned lasciviously at her. Bra straightened her shoulders and spoke softly, "Dela Eden, have you come to your senses yet?"

Demissie shuddered. "Continue to call me by that name, and I shall spit on your stunning clothes."

Bra was exasperated in a matter of minutes. "It is your true name, you cannot just forget it."

"Oh, yes, I can. Dela Eden, Savior, was the name of a different being. I am reborn, I am Demissie, Destroyer, and I will one day have my revenge, Bra."

He was mad. Bra understood now what her brother had been telling her for years. "Fine, Demissie it shall be. Know this is my last visit to you, Demissie, I shall come to see you no more."

"Giving up, Bra? How uncharacteristic of you! I see that your brother has finally made his point."

He captured her eyes in his smoldering gaze, and of her own accord, Bra walked forward, until she was up against the bars. One last kiss, that was what she needed, closure. Her white dress rubbed against the grimy bars, but she did not care, her eyes fixed only on the man she had loved, still loved.

Before she could change her mind, Demissie grabbed her roughly through the bars, his mouth descending on hers fiercely, crushing her. But Bra did not feel the pain of the bars; she only felt the intensity of his kiss, the rough texture of his chapped lips, the silkiness of his tongue as he plundered her mouth, his hands moving roughly into her hair, letting the precious locks fall free.

And she returned the kiss with abandon; letting all of her frustration and love into that one, last kiss. Gently, she bit his lip, and he pushed away from her, growling. It was a Saiyan's way of showing affection, love, and he did not want it, not anymore.

Dazed from the passionate kiss, Bra stumbled away, tears welling in her eyes. She would not shed them; she had cried enough for the doomed Elrondian in that cell. Tomorrow, he would be put to death, to pay for the crimes he had committed against the universe.

Demissie waited until he was sure she had left. Letting a small chuckle slip, he stared insanely at the tiny pin he had pulled from her hair. He would have the last laugh; he would always have the last laugh.

From his vantage point, Demissie could watch all of space, or as far as his Elrondian eyes would allow, and he smiled slowly. They were searching for him, futilely. They would never find him here, no one could. It would not matter soon anyway, for Demissie was ready to change the past, and fix the future.

Turning to his minions, he watched them build the machine, his pride and joy. Although he owed some credit to the mother of Bra, Demissie had refined her earlier contraption. Now, the machine was almost finished, and soon, he would travel into the past and kill the woman known as Bulma, therefore destroying any chance of Bra's birth.

Ah, his beloved Bra! She had refused his offer to reign by his side as Queen of the Universe. Wishing instead to be known as its Protector. Now, she would pay and he would win, he would become the ultimate power.

But he was not ignorant of the age-old powers of his fellow Elrondians. He knew of the prophecies, and knew they were probably preparing for him, in the past. Demissie was always one step ahead. He had planned for this occurrence by honing an ancient power that most Elrondians had forgotten.

Demissie had mastered the art of reproducing himself. He could separate himself into three entities, each with free will and power. He would send his two carbon copies into the past, one to Bra's past, and one the alternate past that she had told him about. There the two would wreck havoc, and Bulma would be killed in both times. And he would stay here, the master of his copies, to wait for the team he was sure the Elrondians would send.

It was a perfect plan, even if he failed, here, at least one of his copies would succeed, and they would be able to work from their past to build a glorious future of destruction and chaos. Either way, he would win and be King of the Universe!