Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Golden Saiyan: Part I ❯ Bardock's Tale ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Bardock’s Story
4,000,567 V.H.
“Toma!” It just ran under that boulder–oh, don’t you see it? It’s over there now, you fool!” Celipa yelled, clutching her middle as she shook with spasms of laughter. She was enjoying the show as she watched her mate running through the underbrush in pursuit of a terrified female stoat that kept outsmarting him.
“I almost have–almost--I got her!” Toma crowed, triumph suffusing his rectangular face with color. Holding the flailing animal up by the tail, he made quick work of breaking its neck and depositing it into a brown cloth sack, tossing it backward so it draped over his shoulder.
Bardock was leaning against the solid girth of a tree while he took his sister and brother-in-law’s antics in with mirth. Celipa became aware of him smirking at them and flicked her bangs out of her eyes. “So much for a hunting trip to get away from it all, eh, brother? You look bored–I’m surprised that you haven’t killed anything yet. What kind of a pathetic excuse for a Saiyan are you?”
His smirk transformed into a grin as she swaggered over to his side, initiating conversation as Toma lifted up the boulder the stoat had crawled under and located its nest full of squirming, hungry young.
“The kind that prefers to leave you two to do all the work, I suppose.”
Celipa eyed him dubiously. “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”
Bardock bowed his head and crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest.
“What makes you think that?”
“Probably the fact that I’m much more of a convincing liar than you are. But it’s okay,” she playfully rebuked, taking his large hand in hers and patting it. “You try hard. That’s what counts.”
“Very funny,” he mumbled, inhaling a long, deep breath.
“It’s understandable, really–ever since Kakarott was born, you haven’t had the opportunity to grieve like a proper Saiyan. Most would have left their children to the care of others for a month while they went out alone for a little while in the jungle. But you couldn’t–Kakarott was so weak…”
“I’m fine, Celipa.”
Toma had just dumped the bodies of the baby stoats into the bag with the mother. Celipa absently applauded him as she tried to pry her brother out of from behind his defenses.
“Alright, alright. I can take a hint, you know. But we three are the only ones out here in this area–if I were you, I’d take some time for myself and go have a look around the land. Maybe some time alone will set you to rights.”
Bardock considered what she said, turning it over in his mind. He’d never been so close to Mt. Tane before and the prospect of exploring the jungle and clearing his mind of some of the more burdensome thoughts it had accumulated since his mate’s passing sounded like a good idea.
Feeling his sister look at him again, he relented. “Yes, you’ve won, is that what you were waiting to hear? If you two won’t miss my presence too greatly, I don’t see how some time traipsing around the jungle alone with my thoughts could harm anything…” he trailed off.
“We’ll be fine. You’re not that much fun on a hunting party anyway.”
“Oh really?” he glowered at her, grabbing her and throwing her into the air the way he had when they were children. She growled and somersaulted, landing on her feet some distance away, with her hands on her hips. Toma glanced over his shoulder at them and chuckled, walking to the other side of their camp to retrieve his tanning knife.
“Okay, bakayaro, you’ve proven your point. In the mean time, I assume that you’ll be leaving in the morning, yes? I can’t see you turning down dinner that someone else went through the trouble to get. While we do all the work, the least you could do is start a damned fire.”
~()~()~()~
*since so many fans speculate on the actual name of Bardock’s mate, I chose not to outright say what I thought her name was
–I realize that it is a touchy subject for some reason, so I figured it was one of those things best left up to speculation.
*a stoat is basically an old word for ermine. Though I don’t think the Saiyans would have actual ermines on their world, they may have something that looks like it, so what do I know? I just thought that it sounded like a fun word to use.
*V.H. stands for Vegeta House.
*Foreshadowing foreshadowing! Ooh.
~()~()~()~
The next morning, Bardock set off early while his companions still slept on. Celipa was splayed out at her mate’s side softly snoring. Both were curled up next to the glowing embers of the banked fire, bellies filled with the meat of Toma’s recent kill the night before.
The air was damp and tiny droplets of moisture clung to Bardock’s armor as he made his way through the dense vegetation that would lead him to the base of Mt. Tane. It would have been easier and quicker if he had opted to fly, but sometimes doing things the easy way just wasn’t any kind of challenge–and Bardock liked to be challenged.
Hours passed that way, and it was midday before he found himself nearing the ancient volcano. He could tell that he was close because the terrain was rockier, the vegetation sparser. Even the trees began leaning slightly in one direction, an indication of a gradual upward slope. As he continued trudging through the crackling, spongy earth, his mind strayed, prodding old wounds.
She’d probably think this place was beautiful, he thought, lips twisting in an expression that resembled a cross between pain and longing, yet was somehow neither.
Gods, every time I look at that cub, I can’t help but think that if it wasn’t for–
Bardock prevented himself from finishing that thought. He could just hear what his sister would say to him if he ever gave her any real indication of what was on his mind.“What the fuck is the matter with you?!” she would interject, her voice raised to that characteristically dangerous pitch only she could effect. “Listen to yourself. I will not hear you tell me that you regret the birth of my nephew! You wanted Kakarott as much as she did. She died to deliver you another son, so don’t make her sacrifice in vain if you loved her as you claim.”
Chastised, Bardock would bow his head, and the truth of his sister’s words would strike a chord in him, causing him to experience the full guilt of his conscience that he had been ignoring for months.
“I shouldn’t be blaming the cub for what happened,” he uttered to himself, finding solace in the sound of his own voice. Yet somehow, no matter how many times he had told himself these things, it always came back to that.
Another hour crawled by before Bardock could finally look up and see the peak of Mt. Tane. Deciding that he had challenged himself enough for one day, he powered up and flew to the mouth of the volcano, boots landing on the edge and disturbing some loose gravel that tumbled down into the dark, gaping chasm.
It’s hard to believe that this is where we all came from. Sneering, he thought back to the myth that every Saiyan child had been raised on before they were old enough to fight. I know that some would swear by it, but not me. Give me proof and I’ll believe you.
Feeling the bluster of the wind whip his hair, at this altitude Bardock could see everything. The jungle extended almost completely to the point of the horizon line–the only thing that was discernable outside of that vast expanse of green tree-tops was the long river Kawa that snaked a curving, gleaming path across the land. Still, he surmised, finding enjoyment in the timelessness of the scenery, it’s an incredible view from here.
He was closer to the suns, and the intensified heat was making him sweat. As Bardock was about to leave, he looked down one last time and noticed a glint of light dance across his vision at the bottom of the canopy floor that was directly beside the base of Tane. Diving off of the precipice, he descended until his face was inches above the rocks that littered the side of the mountain slope, his eyes searching for what he had seen. Spotting it when the light struck it once more, he picked it up out from among the perforated igneous material and spit on the tip of it. Rubbing the corner of it clean, he realized that it was nothing more than a chunk of obsidian.
There’s probably tons of it around here, just like the myth goes.
Pocketing the glossy stone, a strange tingling sensation shot up the hand that he had been holding it in. Frowning, he flexed his fingers, thinking it had been a muscle spasm. For some reason thoughts of his youngest surged to the forefront of his mind again, and this time they were positive ones. “Mmh. Would you like a present, Kakarott?” he wondered, glancing up to the purple hue of the vaulting sky as though it would answer him with his son’s unintelligible chatter. He imagined the chubby cub clutching the obsidian in his fist and squealing in delight, tail curling around his arm happily. Grinning, Bardock selected another piece of black stone from the rubble for Radditz and took to the air again, deciding to stay and have a further look around the jungle since there was plenty of day left before he had to return to camp.
~()~()~()~
*Kawa means ‘river’ in Japanese. I know, not very original, but I couldn’t think of anything else, and hey, it sounds pretty.
~()~()~()~
Radditz leapt into Bardock’s arms as soon as he ducked his head into the clan den, winding his own little limbs around his father’s thick neck while whooping for joy. “Papa! Grampa Mame, Papa!”
Bardock winced as his young son squeezed too tightly, cutting off his air supply. Not taking any notice, Radditz continued to animatedly spout a combination of childish gibberish mixed with the occasional intelligible word into his ear.
“Leave off, brat. Your old man just got home–give him some time to gather his wits before you try to break his wind pipe.” Bardock’s father barked from the shadowy corner, concentrating on trying to get a gurgling, screaming Kakarott to calm down.
Radditz had the decency to look contrite as he relaxed his hold, springing away from his father. Bardock sighed in relief and pulled the energetic cub close again, ruffling his thick, jagged curtain of hair.
While the two reunited, Celipa and Toma ambled in, shaking their heads of excess water as they came out of the rain. “Hey, ‘toosan. How’ve you been holding the fort with these two while we were gone?”
Their father grunted, scratching the back of his neck. “If hell is paved with good intentions, I’ve probably earned a one-way ticket there having volunteered for this madness.”
Bardock chuffed. “Ah, come on, father. It couldn’t have been that bad.”
The old, scarred Saiyan snarled, wagging his finger at his children. “So you think. If you give these demons one lick of freedom, they think that they’ve got the run on you.”
Not listening, Bardock picked Radditz up and carried him over to where Kakarott was abandoned as a lost cause by his grandfather on the palette, crying and struggling to sit himself up on the furs. “Kaka?”
Almost immediately, the cub’s tantrum ceased, and his eyes opened, growing wide when he saw the familiar face of his father. The biggest smile Bardock had ever seen stretched across Kakarott’s mouth as he gazed up at him, cooing in contentment.
“I have something for you both,” Bardock murmured, pulling the pieces of volcanic rock he had discovered out of the pockets of his gi.
“Oooh, what bring?” Radditz asked, dancing about in excitement.
“See for yourself. For you, ‘Ditzu.”
Turning the shining piece of black rock over in his hand, Radditz smoothed a finger over the uneven, sharp edges, admiring the texture of it. “Tank you, papa.”
Bardock nodded, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he bent to give Kakarott his, holding it up teasingly above his face. “Here you are, chibi.”
Reaching out with his small, grasping hands, Kakarott took the obsidian. Bardock helped sit him up so that he wouldn’t drop it on his head, watching in amusement as the cub slapped at it and poked it.
“No, Kaka. You ‘posed hold like dis,” Radditz gently rebuked, placing the cub’s hands around it so that he could pick it up properly. Awe-struck, Kakarott brought his face down to it, licking along its surface with his pink tongue.
“Ew, Bardock. I think he’s trying to eat it.”
Twisting his neck around, Bardock glanced down at his youngest, who was now trying to bite the glassy rock with his fang teeth. “Okay, I can see that we need to work with you on this. Give that here, Kakarott.”
Snatching the gift away from his son before he could do any more damage, Kakarott started screaming again. Groaning, Bardock made a move to quiet him. Looking at the stone as he set it aside, he did a double-take when he realized that his son’s saliva had wiped away most of the dust to reveal strange symbols along its surface.
“Um, ’Toosan? Celipa, Toma? Come here a minute. What do you think this is?”
Gathering in a cluster around Bardock and the two cubs, they each exclaimed their surprise as they beheld the strange writing.
“What do you think this means, Bardock?” Toma questioned, picking up the fragment of obsidian to examine it more closely.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It looks to me like that’s something that belongs in the Ou’s royal vaults,” their father chimed in, cocking his head to the side in puzzlement as he scrutinized it.
“Whatever it is, I bet the Ou would like to have this in his possession. I mean, where was it that you said you found it again, Bardock? Mt. Tane, was it? For all we know, it could be–well, you know. I would think that the Ou’s bookworms would salivate over a find like this.”
Staring at his sister with a skeptical expression, Bardock burst out laughing. “You’re not serious, Celipa. Tell me that you don’t honestly think that this could be what you’re suggesting.”
“Well, do you have any better ideas?”
“It can’t be that. But whatever it is, I think that you’re right: the Ou would probably find it of great interest if I brought it to him. I have to make an appearance at headquarters tomorrow–they’ll be checking our power levels for our yearly assessments. The king is supposed to be making an appearance, so I will attempt to get an audience with him then.”
Celipa glanced around at the mutually mystified faces of her clan and finally settled her attention on her youngest nephew, who was clutching at her finger and watching her with big, intelligent eyes.
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” she asked, though it was a statement more than a question.
~()~()~()~
*Bardock and Celipa’s father is named “Mame”. That’s Japanese for “Bean.”
*I know, Radditz’ baby talk sucks. What can I say?
~()~()~()~
The annual evaluations were taking place as Bardock arrived at the headquarters for the Ou’s Second Class forces. Recalling how extensively throughout the year he had trained, Bardock was certain that his power had increased tenfold, and that he would undoubtedly be placed for consideration on the recruitment rosters for Vegeta no Ou’s Elites.
Who knows? If this little artifact is of any significant value to the king’s scribes, my place will be assured, he mused, smirking in greeting as three of his comrades passed him in the opposite direction. And the Ou may even bestow additional rewards upon me as well.
Taking his position as the assemblage of troops was called to order, Bardock decided he would bribe one of the king’s attending toadies to request a quick audience with Vegeta after he had been through the examination. Then I’ll be able to give the message to him.
Bardock swept an outwardly passive eye over the scores of Saiyan men and the handfuls of Saiyan women that would be contending with him for a place on the list today. Some were tall and lean, while others were stoutly built and compact. But these outward appearances were not to be relied upon–for he knew just as any seasoned warrior that physique didn’t necessarily dictate strength or capability. Everywhere Bardock looked, bronze and ivory armor gleamed in the light, highly polished to impress any and all spectators.
“Attention!” piped the guttural voice of the Elite General, “the Ou is here! All bow before His Majesty!”
As one, the marshaled Second Class forces prostrated themselves on the dirt, bending like a wave of water. Even though his face was very close to the ground, Bardock was near the front of the troops and could therefore see over the backs of those before him as the Ou took his seat, accompanied by his current courtesan to oversee the proceedings.
“All rise!” the booming voice of the general bellowed.
Bardock stood again, beating his chest with his right fist in formal greeting.
“Come forth warrior 108589! You will be the first tested.”
One by one, the Second Class warriors went up to be read. Such one-by-one methods of testing usually crept by with excruciating slowness, and Bardock had to continually shift his weight to keep from falling asleep upright.
Observing the Ou from where he was, Bardock could see that he was just as bored, if not more so. Vegeta’s eyelids kept fluttering closed every few minutes, russet-colored whiskers moving with each deep exhalation. His courtesan kept giving him sidelong glowers of disapproval, the male’s haughty expression complimenting the rugged beauty of his severe features. It was a fortunate thing for him that his financial stability had already been permanently secured when the Ou chose his genes to beget his current heir with. For the royal’s notorious loss of interest in his lovers and his penchant for infidelity were well circulated throughout the kingdom, and it was easy to see that their sexual interest in each other was rapidly waning.
After an hour and a half of waiting, it was finally Bardock’s turn.
“Warrior 108643–Bardock!”
Striding into the testing area, Bardock stood compliantly before the two elites that wore scouters, each wearing twin expressions of listlessness. He was unsurprised when both of them reacted to the reading of his power level.
“Shit, did you see that?”
“Yeah. Either this damned thing is malfunctioning or he’s the best that we’ve seen yet. Bardock is it? Hey Nappa–” the one on the left laughed, calling the Elite General’s name–“whaddaya know? This one’s got a reading just two hundred marks below yours. Better watch out, he might be after your job if he gets through.”
Hearing the tactless evaluator, Nappa flushed in obvious rage and stalked over to inspect Bardock. Circling him, he clucked his tongue in blatant disapproval.
“No kidding? Not much to look at, is he?”
Narrowing his eyes, Bardock prevented himself from showing any outward signs that the derogatory observation had hit its mark, knowing that it would only give General Nappa satisfaction. He’d been around enough envious warriors in his time to see when another was merely goading to get a rise out of him because of their own insecurity.
“He’s already made the list, just by having that reading. If he gets through the trials, he’ll probably be made an official of some sort. What do you think?” the right evaluator asked the general, obviously enjoying the obvious animosity he was exhibiting towards Bardock.
Turning his nose up at him, Nappa laughed, though there was a hint of steel in his gaze. “I say he doesn’t have a chance. Besides, if he gets through to the third round, I’ll give him a beating myself just to make sure I knock this Second Class all the way down to Third.”
Bardock held the general’s gaze, unflinching. Nappa was the first to look away, scoffing once before he pivoted on his heel and marched away.
The evaluators sniggered and wrote something down, tearing a piece of parchment to hand half of it to Bardock. “Return with this in two day’s time to the sparring arena. We’ll be holding the trials there for all that have passed the examination today. You’re aware of the rules, correct?”
Bardock nodded.
“Dismissed.”
Exiting the tent, he looked around and sighted an attendant that was busily setting a silver tray for the Ou’s luncheon. Going over to him, Bardock tapped his dshoulder to get his attention.
“I told you that I wasn’t done preparing his food yet! When I have the damned time, I’ll–“
The servant spun around, a retort that must have been for someone else dying on his lips as he beheld Bardock’s taller, brawnier form looming behind him. “Oh–sorry. I thought you were another servant. What do you want?”
“For you to deliver a message to the Ou for me.”
The servant sniffed, as though he were above such a request. “Do I look like your toady? I don’t go around delivering messages for just anybody, you know.”
Bardock raised an eyebrow. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
The mention of gold seemed to pique the other’s interest in his cause.
“How much worth my while?”
“Four halfcrescents.”
That started a choking, rattling laughter in the servant’s chest. “I’ve got to eat, here. Make it seven and I’ll carry it out with this.”
Digging into his pockets, Bardock counted out the pieces and gave him the scrap of leather he had written his message on. When the servant had finished his ministrations, Bardock’s eyes followed every step that he took as he balanced the tray and wended his way through the crowd before reaching the Ou. Bowing, the servant left his burden before Vegeta and raced away, smugly fingering his heavier purse.
Selecting an exotic orange fruit from the spread, Vegeta no Ou’s hand paused for a moment as it hovered above the platter. He frowned and pursed his lips, seeing the slip of inscribed leather between the dishes. Picking it up, his eyes scanned it before he tore it into pieces and threw it on the ground.
Well, that’s that, Bardock sighed, starting to leave until he noticed the Ou make a gesture for one of the officers to approach him. Bending his head to the King, Vegeta leaned in and whispered something into his ear. The Saiyan appeared to recognize something when he moved away, his eyes skimming restlessly over the warriors until they fixed on Bardock. He left the Ou’s side and found his way over to him, his curiosity unmistakable.
“Vegeta no Ou will receive you tonight at dusk at the palace, Bardock. He said to bring ‘your rock’ with you,” the officer relayed, apparently not having any idea what His Majesty meant by that last.
Bardock didn’t offer an explanation. “Thank you. Tell the King that I will be there.”
On his way out of the palace grounds, Bardock pulled the satchel apart that was dangling from his belted waist and touched the shiny, black mystery that he knew was about to alter the circumstances of his life.
Unfortunately he never imagined just how great a change that would be.
~()~()~()~
Keeping the armor on that he had worn at the evaluations earlier, Bardock’s palms itched with nervousness as he ascended the main steps of the imposing structure of the palace. If he had finer garments, he would have dressed in them; as it was, now that he had actually received an audience with the Ou, Bardock was at a loss as to the proper etiquette required.
Just bow and show subservience. You can’t go wrong with that, he told himself, hoping that he was right.
Two enormous sentries were posted at either sides of the main gates, their staves bearing the royal standard of Vegetasei. Not knowing the protocol, Bardock nevertheless stated his business before attempting to step through. No verbal response was forthcoming, however, as one of the statue-like Saiyans made a conservative movement with his arm to extract a tablet from beneath his chest plate. His head did not move as he read what was on the paper, but the gesture was unmistakable when after a minute of studying it, he and the other withdrew their bodies from the entryway, allowing passage.
“Um, thanks.”
Not expecting a response at this point and not getting one, Bardock continued on his way until he met a velvet-garbed servant in the courtyard.
“Your name is Bardock?”
“Affirmative,” he replied, doing his best not to look overly dazzled with the alien splendor engulfing his senses. All around was finery beyond compare.
“His Majesty has been expecting you. Right this way, please.”
Bardock was lead into the King’s throne room, where he found the Ou waiting calmly in the ornately carved seat, the long fingers that were drumming against the armrest the only indication of his impatience. He bowed.
“Ah, Bardock. You may rise.”
Bardock obeyed; it was difficult not to obey such a voice that was so practiced in commanding an entire race of people.
“You are of course aware that I received your note today at the evaluations.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I would not be standing before you now had I not been aware.”
That earned him an amused, almost interested look from Vegeta. “I see that your tongue is unschooled in the ways of speaking to royalty. No matter, though–from the way your note described it, I see that you may have something that I want, Bardock. Now give me that which you claim you possess.”
Taking the obsidian out of its concealed place in his bag, Bardock walked up to the Ou and placed it in his open palm, keeping a respectful distance away. Bringing it closer to his face, Vegeta slowly scrutinized its every facet. Silently, he traced the carving of the scrawling, primitive text with a fingernail.
“I see what you found so fascinating–I am a lover of great antiquities myself, so it is fortunate that an artifact like this could have the potential to become a part of my private collection. I shall bring it to the attention of my scholars at once, and when they are able to translate it, I will send for you if it reveals itself to have any value to me. If it does, one would expect such a great discovery to be accompanied with a similarly great reward for its discoverer.”
“I–thank you. Your Majesty is most generous!” Things were going better than Bardock had ever really anticipated. Some of the tension he had been carrying before left him at the monarch’s words.
“Of course…you are a Second Class, are you not, Bardock?”
“Yes, Majesty.”
Vegeta nodded slowly, as if coming to some decision. “I am told that your power has increased at something of an exponential rate since your last annual evaluations were up, and that you wish to join my Elites. Is this true?”
Bardock felt his jaw go slack in amazement. “I–yes, with everything that I am, My Lord! This is my desire above all others.”
Smiling, Vegeta tapped his chin with one white-gloved finger thoughtfully. “Excellent. You may go now.”
Bowing once more, Bardock took his leave, confusion at the abruptness of the conversation’s end and something that was suspiciously akin to hope fluttering in his stomach.
He did not see the King turning the rock over in his hand, gazing coolly at his retreating form.
~()~()~()~
*CRUNCH*
The sensation of bone crushing beneath Bardock’s fist spurred him on in his bloodlust, rousing his desire to inflict further injury upon his adversary.
“Fuck!” the other Saiyan that was fighting him wailed, clutching the side of his face, dark blood gushing out from his broken nose. No mercy could be shown now–it could not be afforded if he wanted to succeed in becoming an elite.
Not allowing the injured warrior time to recover, Bardock rushed him and delivered a series of punishing round-house kicks to his ribs, though not before the other had managed to fend him off enough to get in a good punch or two of his own through his haze of pain.
Just as he was drawing on his last reserves and powering up to his peak level to try and match Bardock at his own game, Bardock seized the brief interval between increasing power levels and attacked the Saiyan’s skull with his heat phalanx technique. As soon as his foot connected with his opponent’s temple, it was all over–the warrior was down, sent skidding across the floor in unconscious defeat.
“That’s the second one that you’ve trounced, Bardock,” yelled the Captain of the Elite Guard. He and a few other elite spectators had been watching the spar with avid attention, roaring with approval each time Bardock came out the victor.
Standing in the arena, a heady rush of triumph washed over him. His chest plate was smeared with blood, while the sweat of his exertions left him reeking with the stench of battle. Yet he wasn’t tiring–if anything, these exercises and the echoing of the Ou’s words in his head from before had only wetted his appetite to succeed.
Taking a moment to scan the rest of the gymnasium, Bardock was pleased when he saw a number of the warriors he had fostered friendships with fighting similar matches, each like himself vying for a place among the Elites.
But how many of us will make it there? He wondered, waiting for his third and final challenger to arrive.
Bardock was still confident, even when he noticed the Captain and the other Elites talking in low murmurs amongst themselves, darting curious glances his way. He was certain that they were debating on whom they had selected as a challenger for the last round of the trials. Knowing that it would have to be an Elite so that he could demonstrate the skills he had acquired, his expectation to be surprised was pushed to a whole new level when he saw Nappa sauntering up to the ropes, climbing over them while grinning maliciously.
“Let me guess: you volunteered for this, right?” Bardock bit out, resentfully watching as the other began removing his armor and accompanying accoutrements.
Nappa’s grin grew impossibly wider at that. “Why not? I’m always willing to show a Second Class Nobody their real place in life.”
“Hey, Nappa? Don’t you want to keep your equipment on? You’re not going for a walk in the garden with this guy, you know.”
The Elite General regarded his warriors with little significance, brushing their warnings off like the heckling of birds. Tossing his head back, he readied himself and directed a look of pure scorn at Bardock.
“I won’t need it,” he bragged. “This will be over all too quickly.”
“For you, maybe,” Bardock growled, crouching into a low, defensive stance.
Mirroring each other, both started circling when the shout to begin was given, each trying to glean knowledge of the other’s weaknesses and fighting styles by throwing a few easily deflected punches and kicks.
As the minutes wore on, their dance gradually became more daring, each taking greater risks in their range of motion and techniques. Blocks and strikes blurred as the intensity grew, Nappa biting back an obscenity as he realized that Bardock was quickly gaining the upper hand. Cheers welled from the throats of the spectators as they threw their support behind the taller Saiyan, which infuriated the general all the more.
“I will not lose!” Nappa roared as Bardock cornered him, preparing a knockout blow at precisely the same moment that the general remembered the extra blade he always kept sheathed at his back in the waistband of his sparring pants. Slipping it out while Bardock was distracted, Nappa dealt a calculating strike toward the target of his opponent’s groin, causing the punch to graze his head rather than plow into it dead-on. Simultaneously, he raised the hand that held the dagger and brought it down across Bardock’s face. Realizing his mistake too late as he saw the curved object capture the light, Bardock didn’t have time to react when the blade viciously cut into the left side of his face, drawing a deep, jagged gash in his cheek. Clutching it with a howl of rage as the blood fell in instantaneous rivulets between his fingers, Bardock saw red, barely registering the gasps of surprise that the Elites who had been watching emitted from the sidelines.
“Oh, would you look at that: it looks like I drew firstblood. You lose, friend.”
“General these actions are unjustified! This goes entirely against the rules–“
“Who is commanding officer here, scrub?” Nappa threatened, glancing to each of the inscrutable faces of his warriors, daring them to supply any further words of defiance or support for the injured Saiyan.
“Fucking bastard–I’ll kill you for that,” Bardock spat, hating the underhanded general. There was no way Nappa’s actions could have counted as a win–what he had just done was completely debased. Muscles rippling with coiled tension, Bardock was seconds away from launching himself at the cheating Elite General and proving to him exactly how qualified for Elite status he was when events were prevented from escalating further by a trumpet sounding throughout the gymnasium, announcing the arrival of an out-of-breath messenger from the Ou.
“Is the one called ‘Bardock’ here undergoing trials?” he barked out to the other stunned warriors that dropped their own matches to watch the outcome of the fight between Nappa and Bardock. They pointed toward them and the messenger scurried over, blanching as he noticed Bardock’s torn, thunderous face.
“His majesty has requested that I find you at once. He said that it was most urgent.”
Eyes burning with unadulterated rage, Bardock stared at Nappa in grim silence at length before he answered the messenger:
“Please tell His Majesty that I will be there shortly–that I do not wish to detain him, but I must seek attention at the medical wing first.”
Nodding his understanding, the messenger exited and made his hasty retreat back to the Ou with Bardock’s words on his tongue.
The air was charged with an unsatisfied thirst for revenge on Bardock’s end as he turned and furiously walked back to his area of the arena, picking up his clean clothing and pulling the soiled tunic off of his body.
“We’re not finished with this, Nappa,” the taller Saiyan said, his rage still on a very short leash. “Not by a long shot.”
Nappa arrogantly folded his arms across his chest as he regarded Bardock. “If you’re that hungry for more, feel free to come back tomorrow for another taste. Only this time, it will be more than your face that you will have to worry about me cutting.”
With a sneer of disgust, Bardock turned his back and strode away.
“You’ll never be an Elite!” Nappa yelled at his retreating form, unaware and uncaring that he had just lost the respect of his men that had been watching.
~()~()~()~
“You sent for me, Majesty?”
Vegeta no Ou’s lips curled into a slow, receptive smile as Bardock entered. Lounging in his throne with his legs dangling languidly over the edge of a marble arm, he was for the entire world the most relaxed Bardock had ever witnessed him to be. The tableau that the king now presented was the complete polar opposite of the normally aloof, composed image that he normally cultivated.
“Ah, Bardock! I’m very pleased that you are here. My messenger passed on to me that General Nappa took…certain liberties at your trials today,” Vegeta declared, appraising the bandages that had been carefully applied to Bardock’s wounded face.
Inclining his head, he avoided the king’s gaze.
“Tsk, no honor, that one. As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, he views you as a rival. In his awareness of your strength, he realizes that you pose a particular threat to his position if you were to join my Elites. But what I have called on you today for should give you cause for some cheer in this regard–I wish to discuss the issue of that particular little treasure that you presented to me.”
Bardock held his breath, feeling a thrill shudder through him. “My Lord?”
Twisting in his throne until he was in a proper sitting position, Vegeta leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Do you have any idea at all of what it is that you have found?”
Bardock shook his head. “No, Your Majesty.”
Waiting for him to elaborate, Vegeta no Ou must have seen the look of puzzlement play across the other Saiyan’s features, because he went on to present Bardock with another question instead.
“Tell me: are you a believer?”
Thrown off guard, Bardock raised an eyebrow. “A believer, Majesty?”
“Yes: a believer…do you believe that the first Super Saiyan gave birth to us? Do you believe that he will return to us again?”
Where is he going with this? “I’m not sure what I believe in when it comes to such things, Majesty. What I do know is that it would be a very fantastic tale indeed if it were true.”
Watching Bardock’s face for a few moments longer, Vegeta’s uncharacteristically open expression seemed to close, as though a door had abruptly slammed shut behind his eyes. Although he didn’t understand why, Bardock sensed that he was disappointed wit his answer.
The King stood and walked toward the glass doors of the spacious throne room, making no motion for him to follow. Staying where he was, Bardock could do nothing but observe and wonder about his strange behavior and cryptic questions. Staring off toward the direction of the setting suns, Vegeta didn’t speak for some long moments, and it was only after Bardock began to debate within himself if he should cough or clear his throat to politely remind him of his existence that Vegeta turned back to regard him once more.
“Never mind. It is enough for you to understand that the object you have found is of great worth to me–very great. But presently there are other things to talk of that I’m sure you’ll find more interest in. Would you care for a walk through my private gardens? There’s the issue of your reward to discuss.”
~()~()~()~
The purging mission had been a complicated one, and Bardock was never more relieved to be returning home. It would be another month before he was scheduled to go off-world again to fulfill the military obligation all classes of Vegeta no Ou’s warriors were bound to that regulated the expansion of the Cold Empire, but Bardock was weary of being away from his clan so often. So it was that when the shuttle raced through Vegetasei’s violet atmosphere, finally shuddering to a halt safely back in port, all Bardock could think about was eating a hearty meal and seeing his children.
Much had transpired in the seventy-two hours since his last conversation with the Ou, and Bardock was feeling secure in the knowledge of the direction that his life was taking him. He had been elevated to the rank of an Elite, despite Nappa’s unsuccessful attempt at discouraging him. Vegeta no Ou was also intending to give the General notice of his impending discharge and instigate Bardock in his stead as the new General of the Elites.
“Heading home already, Bardock?”
Walking down the shuttle’s ramp, Bardock twisted his head to the side and regarded a warrior of the fourth division who’s name he had trouble remembering. He sighed in affirmation.
“Yes.”
The Saiyan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I didn’t think your unit would be returning so soon. You’re the first S-2 I’ve seen back on home base. The schedule still claims that you guys aren’t due for another week.”
Bardock adjusted the sling of his pack on his shoulder. “I haven’t heard anything about the others. All I know is that one minute I was summoned to the Commander’s Deck and the next they told me that I had been granted early departure. Whatever the reason, I’m not questioning the good luck. If truth be told, I can use the rest.”
The warrior nodded, envy glittering in his eyes for a moment. “Well, I bet it will be a welcome respite to have Sector 2 all to yourself for awhile. While the rest of the clans are away, you should take advantage of it and have your family return to the compound. Are they aware of your arrival?”
“Yeah, I already sent a message when I was preparing to leave the fleet. My father and sister are already looking forward to the peace and quiet. You’d think we were vacationing,” Bardock chuckled.
“Well, I hope you enjoy it then. See you,” the other saiyan said, waving a friendly farewell as he continued on his way.
Powering up, Bardock shot into the clouds, traveling to the military compound he lived at half of the year with his clan. Although he hadn’t been given a specific reason why he had been allotted the privilege to dispense with duty so early, he suspected quite happily that the Ou was impatient for his presence and would be calling on him relatively soon.
Yes, thought Bardock as the cold wind chapped his flesh: fate is currently favoring me with an abundance of good fortune.
But as he passed over Vegetasei’s lush terrain among the smattering of downy clouds, rays of sunlight now and then touching on the vegetation below, the smile he had been wearing began to slip. Seeing a familiar parting of trees drawing closer, he began to make out the tip of the village’s single-towered trading station. Up ahead, he could make out swarms of birds fleeing the area as a single black tendril of smoke curled above the forest floor. Almost as soon as he noticed it, his nostrils flared as the smell of burning metals and plastics reached him.
What the–Bardock picked up speed, trees flashing past in a blur of green and rust-red as he descended lower. The plume of smoke was too large to be anything as benign as a welcoming fire, unless it had gotten out of control. And my family isn’t so foolish as to start one in the middle of the hottest time of the day, he knew. Yet from what he had been led to believe, they had to be the only ones in the village complex at this time...
His heart began pounding faster as he neared, and a dark feeling of dread began to insinuate its way into his thoughts. Forcibly pushing it back, Bardock reassured himself that any minute he would catch the familiar sight of his father sitting at the entrance to the den, dreamily chewing a blade of grass as he watched Celipa give Kakarott a bath outside while Toma taught Radditz how to spar in the lonely dirt trail that wound through the tiny military village. Yet as he finally cleared the canopy, he beheld in place of his imagined homecoming the stark picture of a smoldering, partially incinerated structure–his home.
The reddish soil absorbed the impact of his rough landing as Bardock stumbled and landed, numbly turning around in a circle as he attempted to make sense of the nightmare scene that surrounded him. It was the quiet that finally penetrated his stupefied mind, alerting him to the striking contrast between his den and the rest of the buildings, which were disturbingly untouched.
When he found his voice, he called for his family.
“Father? CELIPA?!” the silence seemed to intensify when he didn’t receive an answer.
“TOMA!RADDITZ! KAKAROTT---WHERE ARE YOU?!” He repeated himself over and over again, carelessly running toward the rubble as he shouted himself hoarse. Fear quickly overtook him as he continued to call and search for his missing family. He was about to dart in the direction of the outlying forest in case they had retreated into it for safety when he froze in his steps as he heard a painful moan emerge from a copse of trees to his left several feet away. Horror stabbed through him when he discovered the crumpled body of his brother in law.
“Toma!” Bardock breathed, air hissing through his teeth as he said his name, face gone pale. His sister’s mate lay in a motionless, twisted heap on his side, one of his arms bent in an unnatural angle, a froth of blood seeping from his mouth like an open wound.
Dashing over, Bardock kneeled and lifted his head, cradling it carefully between his palms. Confused, violent shudders wracked Bardock’s frame as he attempted to make sense of what had happened. Feeling Toma’s hand clench at his dirtied tunic in a futile attempt to drag him closer, Bardock leaned over, watching as his brother in law’s eyes cracked open in recognition.
“Bardock,” he croaked out, blood clotting his words. “We were...ambushed...t-tried–to fend it off.”
Fury rose in Bardock’s throat. A million possibilities and questions erupted into his thoughts as he weighed the knowledge that his clan had been deliberately attacked.
“Brother, please tell me–what–where are Celipa and my father? Where are my children?”
A terrible coughing fit took Toma then, and Bardock’s lips pressed into a hard, thin line as more black blood bubbled from the side of his mouth. Whoever has done this will not live to see the end of this day, he vowed.
When Toma managed to gain control again over himself, flesh grown cold with the loss of blood, his head tilted and he rolled his eyes toward the ravaged, smoldering den. “Celipa and Mame were–inside.”
A howl of enraged agony involuntarily tore out of Bardock’s throat. No honorable adversary was this–his father and sister hadn’t even been given a chance to defend themselves out in the open!
Even as he thought that last, Bardock stiffened as he felt a presence emerge out of cover some ten yards behind him. Immediately he felt its purpose, and knew the being to be no other than his family’s butcher. His every instinct alerted Bardock that he had been lying in wait and cloaking his energy. Snarling through a haze of red, he whipped around and crouched protectively over Toma’s broken body, fists up and body at the ready.
“It seems that I have already had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of your kin, Bardock of Vegetasei. Please allow me to extend my deepest and most heartfelt condolences on their behalf.”
Bardock could hear the smirk in his voice, although most of his face was concealed beneath layers of cloth the color of midnight. The eyes were the only feature that were visible, which were now regarding Bardock with what appeared to be a blending of morbid humor and sharp, analytic scrutiny.
Teeth clenching, the hair at the back of Bardock’s neck stood on end. He’s sizing me up.
Despite the fact that this assailant was swathed entirely in loose flowing garments, Bardock could see the definite musculature of a well-honed body shifting restlessly beneath the folds of woven fabric. Yet as formidable as he obviously was, Bardock didn’t doubt that he would pulverize him into a pile of useless, bloody meat. Besides, he agonized, disbelief causing him to chase the terrible realization over and over again: my family is dead. What can I possibly have to lose at his point?
Choking back the flood of emotion, Bardock drew himself to his full height and sneered at his enemy, pouring every inch of loathing he could muster into the expression. He didn’t know who the demon was or why he had decided to murder his family, but it didn’t matter so much to Bardock then–the reason wouldn’t undo what had been done, or alleviate the pain. Because in the end, Bardock would not prolong the parasite’s life any longer than necessary in order to kill him. No–the only thing that could possibly assuage the bleeding anguish of Bardock’s loss was the irresistible, sweet lure of a revenge killing.
As Bardock powered up, preparing to rush his adversary, he felt Toma’s hand reach up and clasp his with failing strength, pulling him back from the edge. “Bardock, listen to me,” he rasped, fresh blood pooling from between his lips. “I fought him. While you are stronger than I, you are not strong enough t-to hold a c-cha-ance against him. He is a regenerationist.”
Mute shock at Toma’s speech struck Bardock like a punch to the ribs. That would mean this fighter would have to be a…a Namek?
Bardock couldn’t believe it. The Nameks were a peaceful race unless otherwise provoked in times of war, as was the case with the Cold Empire. They are not Saiyans, he rationalized: they do not take pride in fashioning warriors of their people. They would never condone one of their own to live their life in service of the Gods of War, let alone one who would commit such vile, spineless atrocities for no reason. Unless…
Bardock shuddered, refusing to consider it. What he was about to…it simply wasn’t possible. After all, what would one of the most notorious mercenaries in the known galaxies want with him and his unknown, lowborn family?
A gurgling cough sounded in Toma’s throat again, and Bardock knew it to be the sounds of a death knell hammering into place. The numbing grief he felt returned with renewed force as he stared into the familiar eyes.
“Y-you must r-run B-a-ardock. Save…you–save…” with his last breath, Toma’s body collapsed, slumping in the dirt. Not even caring if his enemy or the hounds of hell were standing just mere feet away from him at this point, he kneeled down and reverently removed his brother’s red head tie, soaked with the sweat of battle and stained with the stench of dirt and blood. Resolutely, he stood and placed it on his own brow, tying it into place. Eyes gone black with an inner maelstrom of darkness, he raised them to meet the burning gaze of his family’s murderer. Those hateful, shadowed orbs glittered back at him in response.
Bardock mouthed a silent prayer. He would never see his family again–and his children–Oh Gods, his children.
The sound of the murderer’s voice piping up again pulled Bardock violently back to himself.
“You should listen to your dead friend there, saiyan. If you surrender now, I will make it a quick death.”
A howl of unbridled rage tore from Bardocks throat. Launching himself in the air through his hot tears, he closed the distance with dizzying speed.
The assassin’s eyes narrowed, obviously unsurprised. As Bardock was about to collide with him, he pulled back to the side and ducked, slamming his head into Bardock’s stomach with such astonishing force, that even with his Saiyan armor on he was sent hurtling into a tree twenty feet away, its bark snapping and cutting his skin as he pulled himself from its surface.
Spinning, Bardock delivered a slashing downward kick toward the area of clothing that covered his enemy’s clavicle, the power behind it enough to sever the delicate bone in half and incapacitate the use of his right arm. Yet again, the attack didn’t reach its intended target. Instead, Bardock swore as the other dodged his assault once more, practically bending in half backwards only to spring up and brazenly grab his saiyan opponent by the shoulders to bring him into contact with the excruciating jab of a knee into his gut, eliciting a moan of pain. Although Bardock was able to deceive his enemy into the beginnings of a maneuver that would free him up enough to bring his arms around over his head and trap the other into an arm bar, his attempt at further guile was inhibited as his enemy anticipated the gesture and made to jump away, but not before Bardock had managed to get in seven expertly placed blows to the pressure points that occupied the space near his groin.
Perspiration began to prickle on Bardock’s brow, though not because of exhaustion, although the effort of holding back his rage and sorrow to keep himself in check was starting to take a toll on him. The thing that was truly causing him to sweat was the realization that he was being toyed with–that Toma could very well have been correct: Bardock wouldn’t be able to beat him.
“NOOOO!” he screamed aloud, ruthlessly staving off further uncertainty with a barrage of punches, some of which landed upon the other’s face and connected with a satisfying *CRACK!* that left him crowing with vicious glee. He could do this–he had to. For himself and…
For them.
Making a split-second decisive move, Bardock leapt into the air and brought his hands together, summoning the full array of his power to him. A swirling electric blue spark jettisoned outward and began spinning so rapidly it created a protective, radiating circle that sent currents of ki shooting back and forth between his fingertips like lightning compressed between two poles.
“Sai–“
Bardock spun, gathering his energy. Wrath overflowed the void where his heart had been, like a cup spilling over that was too full. He envisioned the proud face of his father that he would never see again. He envisioned what the unborn children of Celipa and Toma would have looked like if they had lived long enough to produce them.
“–yan–“
Most of all, he envisioned living a long, empty life without his sons–those most beloved to him that he would never see mature to manhood, the grief of which was suffocating. Bardock thought of his dead mate, and prayed that they were with her, wherever she was.
Then he let everything go.
“–SPIRIT!”
A tidal wave of blinding, scorching light swept through the air and ricocheted off of the ground, tearing a huge, open gash into the soil like a jagged wound as it rocketed toward his adversary. If Bardock had been thinking clearly at the time, he would have wondered why the other hadn’t done anything to escape its trajectory. Instead he stared dispassionately as the intensity of his signature attack enveloped the body of his family’s murderer, imagining he could see the flesh vaporize in vivid detail.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. Opening them again, he was confronted with a deep crater in the ground that the blast had carved as it reached its climax. Patches of fresh glass littered the sandy soil, resultant of the heat.
It was over.
Descending, Bardock covering his face with his hands and fell to his knees, allowing the full weight of that horrors that had transpired and so abruptly altered the landscape of his life to consume him. What he would do now, he couldn’t begin to know. Unfortunately, just as he estimating the uncertainty of his situation, a malevolent, bubbling laughter snapped Bardock back to nightmarish reality.
No, it’s impossible; none that I have ever fought have survived that attack before.
Yet as he slowly turned around, pleading with the Fates for that voice to have been a trick of the wind, he understood that his hopes were to fall on deaf ears. For there, having lifted himself from the recesses of the steaming crater, was the enemy, who was most certainly a Namek after all. As Bardock marveled at the sight, he noticed that the garments, which had previously covered him from head to toe were now no more than scraps hanging from his body, the head wrap reduced to charred ribbons draped haphazardly across his face like unkempt hair.
But what caught Bardock’s attention most of all was the fact that his enemy’s left arm was gone. As he observed him, the Namek’s whole body seemed to give a violent, jerking shudder, and before he could even guess what was happening, a new one had grown in its former place, shining a fresh green in the dull sunlight. Bardock stilled as Toma’s words returned to haunt him: “he’s a regenerationist.”
Yet that wasn’t the last cruel shock that was in store for him as he stared at the arm, vaguely aware that the Namek was unraveling the remainder of his head covering. When Bardock’s gaze returned to his enemy’s face, he was utterly unprepared for the paralyzing terror that came up swiftly out of nowhere and rooted him to the spot.
There, standing before him, was the most feared mercenary in the known universe, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Utterly ruthless, the Scourge of the Seven Galaxies, more commonly referred to in hushed murmurs as Piccolo, was the exception to the Namek peace-loving rule. Estranged from his homeworld, Bardock had heard rumors that Piccolo was wanted in four solar systems with charges pending in the other three. The bounty for his capture was so impressive, even the phrase “a king’s ransom” didn’t do it justice, although with the alien standing so unabashedly confident before Bardock, he couldn’t fathom how anyone short of possessing Frieza’s, or the Ou’s power could ever legally restrain him long enough to bring him into custody for interplanetary execution. Images of Piccolo were so rare to procure the last one that had been taken was when he was in the late stages of Namekian adolescence, though not for want of sightings.
Seeing the abject terror alight across Bardock’s face, Piccolo laughed, a deep, unkind sound. His green skin gleamed dully in the daylight.
“Ah, I see that you recognize me now, Bardock of Vegetasei. You Saiyans really are the densest of races, for all that you boast of your physical prowess.”
Somehow finding his voice, words came forth like a torrent of water out of Bardock’s mouth. “Why are you doing this?! Who is paying you? Why have–DAMN you–what quarrel does your master have with me? WHY MY FAMILY?!”
Swaggering towards him, Piccolo grinned. “Asking questions now? That is very amusing. I have heard what your kind thinks of asking questions of their enemies, and I really must agree: questions are a pointless waste of breath.”
As he said this, a beam of red energy sizzled through the air from his antennae, hitting Bardock in the chest and bringing him to his knees with the agony of it. He roared, lips pulled back over his teeth in a perfect caricature of torment. Clutching at the coin-sized hole that had completely burned through the center of his chest between his pectorals, Bardock stared dumbly, pulling his hand away as he watched with a dim, detached fascination as blood welled from the wound. As his vision blackened at the edges, Bardock swayed and fell heavily upon the ground, cheek pressed to the blood-soaked earth beneath his body.
Quietly, Piccolo drew closer until he was beside Bardock’s fallen form; squatting down, he pressed his ear close to his mouth, listening. Frowning, he stood once more and gingerly touched his newly regenerated arm, soothing the pain in it with a touch.
“Nothing personal about the family or anything: I’m sure you understand.”
As his awareness faded, Bardock felt what must have been spittle strike him in the face as the Namek turned him over with his boot, pilfering his pockets for any valuables that were on him. Finding only two gold Vegetas, Piccolo sighed. “Not much,” he mused, “but what can you expect of low-class warrior? I’d be curious to know why King Vegeta was so dead set on exterminating you and your relations–but that’s not what they pay me for. Orders are orders, either way.” Patting Bardock’s bicep sympathetically, he rose to his feet and stepped back, cocking his head to the side. “You should have taken my offer–I would have made it quick. Maybe.”
Walking away, Piccolo made short work of the evidence of his crime. KUCHIKARAKIKOHA!” he cried, and upon command a blast of energy shot from his mouth and ignited a nearby wattle and daub structure, the flimsy material igniting easily and rapidly escalating into a conflagration of the surrounding area.
Taking to the sky, The Scourge of the Seven Galaxies threw a parting glance over his shoulder and took a last look at his victim. The contract that Vegeta no Ou had drawn up never explicitly stipulated anything about it being paramount to stay and watch the Saiyan die, which there wasn’t any doubt of in his mind. Besides, Piccolo chuckled, peering down at his ruined clothing: I could use a new wardrobe.
~()~()~()~
*Evil Mercenary!Piccolo is such a pimp. That’s all I have to say.
*This Chapter is drama-angst, drama-angst. Would anyone like a healthy dollop of drama-angst?
*I wanted to use some of the actual techniques that the characters are known to have used in the manga and anime, so I had Piccolo use his Antenna Beam, his Kuchikarakikoha (or a beam shot through the mouth according to Dragonball Wiki) and I had Bardock use his “Saiyan Spirit” attack, which is dubious in its authenticity due to the fact that I jazzed it up quite a bit from the normal volleys of punches that it was supposed to be. Part of it is due to the fact that very little of his custom attacks are elaborated on, and also because on my part, I feel that an attack that is called “Saiyan Spirit” just strikes me as something that deserves a good kick behind it. Saiyan pride demands it, if you will.
~()~()~()~
“You have failed…”
“Bardock…”
Bardock’s eyes flew open and were met with darkness. The scent of moisture and damp rock clung to the air, while the soft noise of water dripping echoed nearby, surrounding him with a chorus of mysterious, cavernous sound.
Unbearable pain came unbidden into his thoughts. My clan, all dead–Piccolo hired to kill us–who–why–why–
I have failed them all. Bardock covered his face in miserable, unendurable shame. Soon their ghosts will be here to plague me with their suffering and avenge themselves on me for my weakness…
“Hello, Bardock”
Jumping to his feet in alarm at the sound of a voice greeting him out of nowhere, Bardock struck his head against what felt like an overhanging outcrop of rock. He cursed and brought his arms up reflexively to prevent further mishap. That didn’t feel like I’m dead, he winced. Squinting, Bardock reeled about in a circle but couldn’t discover the source of the voice. Warily, he called out to the darkness that surrounded him.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know many things of you, Bardock.”
All thoughts of the horrific wrongs that had been committed against him dispersed as the voice spoke to him, soothing his tortured heart and gentling his chaotic, stormy thoughts. This was strange, since the voice, a rich, commanding baritone that reverberated throughout Bardock’s bones and affected the very cells in his body, was not soft or mild in the least. He was suddenly overcome with an irrational desire to see the individual who it belonged to.
“If what you say is true, show yourself.”
Pregnant silence met his question for so long that Bardock was afraid whoever (or whatever) had spoken to him had left him there, until he at last heard a movement in the darkness shatter it. “Very well,” the voice assented, roiling over Bardock’s skin like hot, living breath.
Immediately a small, radiant ball of violet fire rushed past his head from out of the surrounding darkness. As Bardock watched with benumbed fascination, it stopped ten feet from him and began rotating, growing to such an intense luminosity that he had to at last avert his gaze and squeeze his eyes shut until from behind his eyelids, he could tell that there was a tremendous explosion of brilliant, searing rays of light. As he sensed it fade to a comfortable glow, Bardock cracked one eye open, then the other once he was sure it was safe to do so.
The ball of fire was gone, but in its place was comfortable glow that allowed Bardock to see that he was in a cave. Was this the afterlife? He wondered, awestruck. He did not know.
Taking in the incredible sight of what must have once been an ancient underwater cave, Bardock feasted his eyes on millions of tiny, dazzling salt crystals that littered every visible crevice and recess as spiraling stalagmites jutted down like gnarled, alien tree roots. There was even one that was jutting dangerously close to the floor of the cave. He frowned, rubbing the sore spot on his skull. That’s what I must have hit when I stood up.
A cool draft wafted through the cave, causing Bardock’s teeth to chatter. Weren’t the dead supposed to be insensate?
“You wanted to see me, Bardock. Now is your chance.”
The unearthly voice from earlier had returned, and was now at his back. Slowly, Bardock turned and craned his neck upwards as he beheld the tallest, most preternaturally beautiful Saiyan he had ever known.
As he stared, Bardock realized that he was looking at the ideal of what every Saiyan strived to become. With fair, smooth skin, as glorious as an ensnared beam of moonlight stretched taught and supple over a fine, perfectly delineated musculature, Bardock knew that the Saiyan was not of this world.
Garbed in silken pants and scarlet loincloth that were cinched and gathered at the waist, and adorned with gold and jeweled accoutrements, Bardock very much doubted that any other being could present as masterful and regal a picture as the one that this Saiyan did. When his eyes finally lifted to study his face, he knew that he was in the presence of a god.
Bowing low, Bardock knew that he was trembling. Hesitantly, he asked the first question that came to mind:
“Are you the Lord of the Underworld?”
The God-Saiyan laughed, a pleasant, rumbling sound that shook the rough stonewalls of the natural enclosure surrounding them.
“Rise child of mine. I am not the one of whom you inquire after. Pray tell, what is it that leads you to believe that you are dead?”
“I was in battle–and I was fatally injured, I have the hole in my chest here–“
Groping for the hole that had melted through his armor and delivered him into the hands of death, Bardock frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he searched. Slipping his armor to the side, his eyes widened in shock when he splayed his entire hand across his chest and couldn’t find the wound.
His head snapped up, feeling the eyes of the god regarding him with warmth.
“How–? Is this possible? I was dead, I–what is this place? Who are you?”
But it was as if the god had not heard him. Evading Bardock’s question, he walked over to a shallow pool, dipping his graceful hands into the water. Ki rippled and slightly increased the temperature of the pool as he did so, creating an incandescent, mirrored surface.
“Come, Bardock.”
Inexplicably drawn, he crept closer, standing at the god’s side.
“Look well into this water, and tell me what you see.”
Mystified by the command, Bardock peered into the center of the pool, straining to see as blurred images gradually began to take shape.
Ferns and towering trees were the first to manifest clearly; next, a wide, tumultuous river tumbling through the jungle floor. Huge, moss-blanketed boulders resided on the banks of the rushing body of water, and perched atop the largest were two small figures, playing with an empty bird’s nest.
“No, it–can it be? It’s...my sons.” Bardock whispered, an ache of confusion and indescribable relief flooding through him at the sight.
The God-Saiyan nodded encouragingly, a smile slipping into place across his countenance despite a certain sadness that lingered within the depths of his gaze. “Yes, they live, Bardock. They were saved by your eldest boy’s timely decision to take his brother on an outing with him to the river. It is by that action alone that I was able to shield them from the Namek, whispering to their subconscious minds to remain until it was safe.”
Wrenching himself from the myriad emotions warring within, Bardock felt the eyes of the Saiyan God upon him once more. He raised his own to them.
“I asked three questions before and you did not answer. If I am not dead as you imply, then how did I survive? Where is this place that you have brought me, and who, in all of the great universe, are you?”
The Saiyan god smiled again. “To address your first, I healed the wound that you sustained; if I had not, it is true that you would have perished and your children would have survived, parentless. Secondly, this, Bardock–“ while speaking, the god made an arching motion with his arm in reference to the cavern at large–“is where the great destiny of your line will begin in future’s time.”
Struggling with the revelation, Bardock blinked. Had he heard him correctly?
“Great destiny?” he hastened, waiting for the god to explain.
“Yes, Bardock: the great destiny of your bloodline. For it is the fate of your family that I have watched for many generations, and it is your clan that I have found most worthy among all of my Children. Thus it was, many centuries ago, that I first witnessed a vision of your sons, long before even you yourself were born. Of the two, I have chosen one of them for a great destiny–a destiny that will lead our people into prosperity the likes of which has never before been known.”
“Grandfather Brolly,” he realized. It was not a question.
“Yes.”
Bardock fell to his knees.
The Super Saiyan stilled for a moment, turning his head as though listening to some distant sound that only he could hear. Fixing his attentions once more on Bardock, he took a decisive step back.
“You must return to your sons now, Bardock; they grow bored with their play, and I fear that they will leave the safety of their hiding place soon–they mustn’t be seen by the Namek. But before leave, I will tell you this: It was Vegeta no Ou that ordered the extermination of your clan.”
Confused pain and pure hatred swept through Bardock as he was gripped by the dark truth in the God-Saiyan’s words. “Vegeta no Ou? WHY? I have committed no wrong against him, he is my king! I was in his favor! WHY HAS HE MURDERED MY FAMILY?”
“Because you knew too much, child. You have found what no other has succeeded in the discovery of–what your fellow Saiyans have searched generation after generation for only to turn up dust and disappointed hopes.”
Then suddenly, he knew: “The rock–it wasn’t just a rock…it was the–”
“Yes, child. It is my prophecy.”
Bardock forgot to breathe.
“Because Vegeta no Ou has misunderstood its true message, he now believes that its very existence threatens the security of his clan’s place upon the throne, and it was that fear that has driven him to destroy those which you have held most dear–it is that fear that will one day doom the future of our race if you do not do as I say now, Bardock.”
“What must I do? What can I do?”
“You must retrieve it, Bardock. Retrieve the prophecy at all costs–and destroy it.”
“How?”
“You will know, when the time comes. But for now, you must go into hiding, Bardock–hide until your children are strong and have become men. Then and only then will come your day of retribution–then and only then will you have your revenge, and will the scales of the future be balanced once more.”
“But how will I know when that day has come?” Bardock begged, bewildered as thousands of unsatisfied, unanswered questions swirled within his thoughts.
Grandfather Brolly smiled. “Because I shall give you a gift, Bardock, Son of Vegetasei, one that is rare among our race of people, but I think you’ll find will be useful. Go, now–Go! You will know when the time is come.”
With these last assurances, Bardock’s vision grew hazy and the stark environment of the cave began to fade away. Small, flashing spots of color materialized in and out of existence and danced before his eyes as darkness swam around him and finally enveloped him once more. Yet somewhere still, on the edge of his awareness, he listened as a voice he now recognized to belong to the Father of the Saiyan race continued to whisper:
“Wake up, Bardock. Wake up…”
~()~()~()~
Everyone was silent–Radditz and Kakarott regarded their father, someone they had known all of their lives, but perhaps never really known until now, with quiet curiosity and a wealth of other nameless, complex emotions. Bardock didn’t press them as they absorbed the fantastic, unbelievable tale he had just related to them.
“So you’re of Elite status and you never told us?” Kakarott blurted out, never failing to be the first to break the ice on any occasion.
Bardock raked an uncertain hand through his hair. “There never seemed to be much reason to. We have been in hiding–I didn’t want either of you getting any ideas about training and having the hope of increasing your power to become part of the imperial forces. I’m sure you can see why it would have been impossible for you to do so now.”
Radditz maintained his silence.
Kakarott’s barely-tethered impatience was beginning to get the best of his temper. “You lied to us about Grandpa–you lied to us about Aunt Celipa and Uncle Toma. You said that they had accidentally started the fire and perished in it–you said that–!”
“What could I do?” Bardock bellowed, sending his stool skidding backward across the floor as he stood up and towered over his youngest. “You were children–you weren’t even old enough to wipe the drool from your chin! What did you expect me to do? Sit you both down and calmly try to rationalize to you that King Vegeta had hired the most dangerous mercenary ever to live to kill our entire family because he didn’t want anyone knowing I had found the fucking lost Saiyan Prophecy? A prophecy that he fears will illegitimatize his rule? Did you expect me to tell you that the damned Legendary Super Saiyan himself brought me back from the dead and told me that one of my sons has been chosen by him to be the savior of the fucking saiyan race? What did you expect?”
“He’s crazy, Radditz. He’s fucking crazy,” Kakarott spat, furious. “Can’t you see that we’re just wasting our time out here in the jungle with him while we could be living our lives–it’s all in his head. We can’t continue this way–let’s leave before we become as insane as he is.”
“He’s not insane,” Radditz murmured, peering down at his clasped hands.
“He’s not–what?” Kakarott spluttered, surprise coloring his angry voice.
“I SAID, Father is not insane, Kakarott. I remember some things, you know. I don’t expect you to though, you were too small; but I remember seeing the hole in ‘toosan’s armor when he came back for us by the river. There was blood all over him, Kaka–blood everywhere, but no injury, when there should have been. I–I also remember–something else, too.”
Laying an encouraging hand on his eldest son’s shoulder, Bardock urged him on. “What was it, Radditz?”
“A–a voice. A voice in my head–at first I just though it was me imagining things, but I remember that it gave me the idea to take Kakarott down to the river to play–and I obeyed it. It told me to stay there and…and wait for you.”
“This is ridiculous,” the younger saiyan rolled his eyes. “Now you’re defending his madness with your own!”
Raising himself calmly to his feet, Radditz locked eyes with his brother, pinning him in his tracks. Kakarott opened his mouth to say more, then thought better of it after seeing the look that he was fixing him with.
“It is not madness, Kakarott–believe me, I would never have thought so before, but it all adds up–remember the nightmares that I use to have when I was younger? They were all of Piccolo, and not because I was scared of a few tall tales designed to put children to bed on time. I dreamt of him like I’d met him before, Kakarott–like I was connected to him somehow…and now I know why. He killed our family.”
“This–but, if all of this is true–and that’s a big ‘if’–what are we going to do about it?
Bardock rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “We do what Grandfather Brolly said was to be done–we retrieve the prophecy and destroy it.”
Kakarott groaned, throwing up his hands. “Just how are we to do that, exactly, if we don’t even know where it is?”
“Oh, but we do,” Bardock smirked. “You yourself told me that you heard Nappa spilling his guts about finding the King’s hiding place for it. Now we just have to find Nappa, then we’ll drag it out of him.”
“The owner of the tavern said that he is being reinstated as the Major General of the Elites,” Radditz said.
“That mean’s he is probably blackmailing him.”
“But how do we destroy the prophecy when we get it?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“’TOOSAN!”
“I told you–Grandfather Brolly told me that I would know everything in time. That’s one of the gifts he has given me–the Sight. Haven’t you ever wondered why I’ll know some things before they happen? Things I can’t possibly know for sure, but I manage to get them down to even the minutest details nevertheless?”
Radditz chortled. “Like the time you got sick with fever, Kakarott, and Father told you that you were just going through early Oozaru rut. I didn’t believe him since it’s so rare, and even when I took you into the village to get four doctors to take a look at you, none of them could figure out what was wrong. A week later you broke out of your room and we had to comb the damned jungle for you for two days before we could find you and convince you to come back with us.”
Kakarott’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Point taken.”
Nodding, Radditz averted his attention once more to Bardock. “As incredible as all of this is, I’m able to somehow accept it–there’s just two things I still don’t understand, ‘toosan: what’s all of this about one of us being chosen?”
“I don’t know exactly. All I was told is that ‘one of my sons will have a great destiny–and will bring prosperity to the saiyan race.’ As far as which one of you it is–I know that, already.”
Kakarott snorted.
“It’s you, Radditz.”
Taken aback in alarm, the longhaired saiyan blinked, mouth turning down at the corners. “How do you know for sure, Father? I certainly don’t feel like I’m Chosen.”
“Maybe chosen to clean the vomit off the floor when I mess all over myself after hearing that.”
“KAKAROTT!”
“Sorry.”
Bardock cast a baleful glare in his youngest cub’s direction. “I don’t know if being ‘Chosen’ is supposed to feel differently, Son. What I do know is that you have all of the potential–you’re intelligent, brave, and you’re definitely NOT Third Class–despite what I have led you to believe for your own protection throughout the years.”
Radditz’ brows furrowed. “But what if I’m not, Father? What if Kakarott is?”
Watching his father’s reaction closely, Kakarott’s heart squeezed slightly as he listened with little surprise to the reply that his brother received. He folded his arms over his chest and did his best to pretend that he didn’t care.
“That’s impossible, ‘Ditzu. Kakarott–he’s younger than you are. He’s not–“
“Go on, ‘toosan, you can say it: I’m not strong enough.”
Bardock shook his head, a sneer of disgust settling upon his mouth. “That’s not what I meant, you’re just–“
“No,” Kakarott cut him off, daring him to deny it still. “That’s exactly what you meant, and don’t stand here and lie to the both of us. I’ve always known how you feel about me–I’ve always known that I’m the disappointment of the clan–and given what you told us earlier, I now know that you also still blame me for our mother’s death. Thanks, ‘toosan. Thanks a lot.”
Bardock’s hackles rose. He rounded the table and confronted his son, practically bringing them nose-to-nose with each other. “Now you’re pissing me off, brat–“
“But it’s true, isn’t it father?” Radditz queried, quickly slithering in between their bodies to keep the only two remaining kin he had left from killing each other.
“What? Now you’re taking his side–!”
“Yes. Kakarott is right, ‘toosan–I know it as well as he does, though I’ve tried to ignore it for years. You’ve always treated him differently from me, and I won’t abide by it any longer. Either Kakarott is just as much a part of this clan as I am, or we’re not clan.”
Kakarott’s breath hitched in his throat at his brother’s speech. Thankful for once that he had finally come to support him with a defense of a different kind, he wound his tail around Radditz’, just like when they were children and things came easy between them.
Bardock gazed back and forth between the twin stony expressions of his children. Sighing, he relented.
“I’m sorry. I–I’m sorry, Kaka. I know I’ve always been hard on you–and I know that I shouldn’t blame you for things that were beyond your control. That will stop now–I just want you to know that–that I’m sorry. It ends here.”
Nodding in acknowledgment of his father’s apology, Kakarott didn’t reply.
Sensing some of the hostility leave the den, Radditz clapped his hands together, breaking the lapse into uncomfortable silence once more. “Okay–now that we’ve got everything out in the open, how are we going to go about this? What’s the plan?”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Bardock chimed.
“I still think you’re both mad, just so you know,” Kakarott muttered under his breath.
He meant it.
~()~()~()~
~Part I finis~
~()~()~()~
Be on the look out for Part II of the Golden Saiyan in the coming months--now is where the plot thickens and boils over, and the great romance that will decided the fate of Vegetasei will take place.
Thank you for reading this.
--BlackDeath.