Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Fall Of The Lost ❯ The Beginning of the End ( Prologue )

The Fall Of The Lost

Part Two of the Dark Dragon Cycle and sequel to Distant Light Years (which can be found whole and unaltered at Fanfiction.net).

To be rated R for violence and other unmentionables.

Prologue: The Beginning of the End.

~ Look..

If you had one shot..

One opportunity..

To seize everything you ever wanted..

One moment..

Would you capture it?

Or let it slip.. ~

My journal lay open on the desk. It was bound in wine red leather and had my name written in a fine hand with a gold pen.

I picked up the pen, which had lain absently on the desk and began to write..

~ May I just say this now.~ I wrote. ~This nonsense is entirely Goten's fault. It was he who has persuaded me to write of my.. Our pasts. I can tell you, once he gets an idea stuck in his concrete brain it doesn't go away. He pestered me constantly over it. Until I told him to go write his own stupid story. But then he went all mysterious and said it was my story to tell and no one else's. I sigh. I can tell you if I didn't hold him so dear to me I would make a nice throw rug from his hide.

I suppose he was interested in knowing my side of things. I have no idea why. As far as I'm concerned, he's the one who's had family and loves to cherish life.. at least more so than my self any how. Though I suppose it's not really about that. I have reason to believe his idiot brother had something to do with his idea. That wouldn't surprise me either.. Gohan has an irritating habit of trying to pick my brain, to see what makes me tick.

If he continues he may regret his inquisitiveness.~

I threw my pen down in exasperation as I closed my eyes. I had a raging headache, but that wasn't any thing new, I always had raging headaches. Bra use to say it was because Bulma dropped me on my head too many times as a baby. But Bra always spoke drivel, I never paid her much attention. She always reminded me too much of Father.. I rubbed my temples.

I picked up the abandoned pen and put it to paper once more.

~Goten said this would be good for my own piece of mind. HA! What drugs has he been on.. I think he's just been hanging out with that twit Gohan too much.~

I smiled slightly to my self and examined the yellowing human skull on my dark hardwood desk in dull boredom. I was not the type to write about my self. Hell, I was not the type to write at all. I sighed and walked over to the window that looked out over my city. Oh yes.. all mine! Lovely! I grinned to my self. Power was so thrilling.

"My story.. my story.." I whispered out loud to the wall next to my head. Goten wanted my story. It was ludicrous. He had lived my story with me for Kami's sake.

I hummed a comforting tune and wrote my name in the dusty windowsill. TRUNKS VEGETA BRIEFS. I didn't want to forget that now did I? I was the son of Vegeta.. I snarled between clenched teeth. How could he leave me again?! My bastard Father, gone again. All dressed in his Saiyan best. Vanished, just like that!

It has been three months since he left me again. I know this time I won't see him ever. Gohan told me what he did. Gohan didn't want to at first but I managed to convince him. Hehehee.. such lovely screams.. A chill went up my spine. I had always loved the loud high vocal sound of some one screaming. In pain preferably.

I looked down at the gardens out the window. The twisted rose gardens stretched wildly up to the clear blue autumn sky. I smiled slightly, I had always loved roses. Most people liked that rich romantic red but I preferred yellow. I wasn't entirely sure why. I suppose it was because they smelled so nice. Refreshing. I remember coming back after killing countless hundreds every day when I was younger, I would walk through the gardens to the Capsule Corp and I would smell the yellow roses and the sent of the rotting dead would vanish. This was before I had my castle. I had always liked growing things, I suppose it came from my Grandmother who had died long before all the madness. Blond idiot though she was.

Remembering was always easy for me. Either the memory simply wasn't there or my own emotions, which had faded to nothing long ago, left no associated pain to the moment. Whether it was my mother's death or seeing the faces of those I killed. Screaming pleading faces. I bared my teeth in a dark grin.

With a slight happy sigh I decided to give in to Goten's wish, writing of my past would be a good way to remember things in the future, long after the memories faded into non-remembrance.

I sat back in my plush red chair and picked up the pen. I once heard from some one that the pen is mightier than the sword. The written word could make the strongest man weep. I was very sceptical of that, how old written words could still convey a feeling to a person reading them hundreds of years after being written was beyond my understanding.

Never the less, I thought vainly that perhaps some day, a person might sit down on the hard ground and read this, and perhaps my ghost might hear their screaming and their wailing as they tear at their eye sockets and I would remember the pleasure of my life again.

The thought made me smile.

I started to scribble from the beginning of my tale. My scrip was slim and slopping, but often varied in size depending on what it was I wrote of.

As I wrote, I hummed. A nice little ditty, one I sing out loud in situations where I loose my cool..

TBC..