Much Like Suffocating
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Much Like Suffocating
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WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS:
instead of just reading it? (Insert
standard disclaimer here: I don’t own Vegeta,
Goku, (any other characters mentioned herein) or the show they came from DBZ
DBGT or just plain DB.)
ALL RIGHTY. *rubs hands
together and looks up terms for the list of warnings: *
already screaming. You can read
it. I swear It’ll be chocked full of
lemony goodness. LEMONS (Not talking
about the fruit here, either. I’m
talking about the sex ones; although how did it come to be a ‘lemon’
anyway?) Homosexuality (er…duh.)
Gasp): bondage, shady professions, and
graphic descriptions. (Hopefully
graphic anywho.) Also, dirty language
doubtlessly. DARK.
As always I strive to keep folk in character even when they are not
‘themselves’ in the canon-sense. If
you’re reading this and you’re like they are so not in character, give it a
chappie or two and see if you still think that.
I tried very hard not to write this.
bunny (the plot bunny) until it went away.
And you see how far that got me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****
It
took a full twenty-two hours before Trunks managed to claw his way back from
the pit of interminable darkness he had been shut in. Spiders’ bodies realized the limits of their powers, naturally,
and shut down the mas sas soon as they felt it had been reached.
Spider-powers he didn’t have the control over his own body, his instincts did.
Because a Saiyan didn’t quit when it felt that bridge of exhaustion
setting in on it, they just kept going.
Until they were dead.
Goten
was curled up against him when he woke, sleeping silently and shallowly.
Trunks’ shirt and there was dried blood on his face. A sign of the moronic Gods of the Juro, doubtlessly.
and Goku were already sitting up, legs crossed, meditating or just being
silent. And Bulma was awake too, bright
wide cat eyes watching him intently as her ears flicked forward to catch any
sound he could have made.
“Krillin
is outside,” Bulma said quietly, “We’re too filthy for him to be around.”
Trunks
nodded. Shook Goten until his eyes slid
open and they stared at each other Intently
for a moment, and then there was that understood thing that passed between
them. Always passed between them before
a battle. Because one day, the battle
they faced would be their last. One day
they would lose. Goten sighed, leaned
forward and kissed him quickly.
mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt'> “Not
today,” he whispered. Then rolled onto
his back so he could stand up.
Chichi
sat up next to Bulma and looked around the room. Drifted back to her feet and straightened her clothes and
hair. After all, storming into the
Palace of the dying Saiyan King required that you look appropriately
groomed. “Are we ready?” she asked.
Vegeta
got to his feet, and then Goku. Then
Bulma with the dampeners in her hands, and she handed one to each of them
except Goten because putting that on him would be like wrapping a rope around
his neck and pulling it tight. And
Krillin, for much the same reason.
“Lets
go,” Vegeta said.
Trunks
got to his feet, watched Krillin walk into the room with his Juro Princely nose
skyward and a disgusted glance in their direction as he stood as far from them
as he could while still be included in the group that was being transported.
“Everyone
remembers their place, right?” Trunks asked.
Felt his hands go frigid cold as the webs started to spin around them,
caught between him and Chichi.
There
was a lot of nodding.
“To
spill the blood of traitors…” Chichi grinned, “I have waited many years for day
such as this.”
~~~***
There
was the lurch of non-reality when he opened his eyes. The sight of Guards of his own kind…it had been so very long
since he had seen any of his own kind.
Guards that screamed in the Saiyan language and ran up to attack him, to
strike him down and drag his corpse to the dumpsters—the only place befitting a
traitor such as him. And as he climbed
to heet eet again—dropping people really meant dropping them, and he had landed
on his abused knees—the Guard raised their fists to strike at him, and a sword
stabbed straight through them, just at the apex of the ribs, twisted, and them
sliced upward, neatly tearing the body in half and spraying him and the floor
around him with blood.
Trunks
stared at him, flicked the blood from the sword and pointed.
Vegeta
gave his little brother a sneer, looked at the cat next to him, with her perky
pretty ears and her claws then turned, ducked into the side hallway and
silently wished all those that stood in the grand entrance and fought the best
of luck. But Trunks was right, he
couldn’t stay. With the exception of
Goten keeping Bardock from seeing them, he had the most important job.
throne and claiming his birthright.
“You
sure you remember the way?” Bulma asked him as she ran next to him.
~~~***
Goten
landed on his knees, didn’t really feel it; was aware only of Krillin landing
on his feet next to him, and his own mind spiraling outward, toward Bardock, grabbing
him and seizing up that part of him that made the visions filter to the
brain. Wrapped himself around it like a
tight tarp. Felt himself getting more
powerful—strange how that happened—felt his hair flickering white (never blond,
always white) and he concentrated on giving Bardock pretty little day
visions. Nothing visions.
retribution. an>San>Spun himself up into
little wires of thought and produced a grand illusion, a vision that would make
Bardock shake in happiness for hours.
The sight of his victory over Goku.
Over his Super Saiyan of a son that was born to kill him.
from all their minds. Little pieces
until he had construction a vision of Goku lying in a pool of blood, tears
spilling out of his eyes as he asked for his life, promised his fealty to
Bardock, and his stupid fucking father just gave him a dark sneer and killed
him one final time.
Felt
blood on his own hands and knew the Juro Gods were playing their pretty tricks
again. Slicing open his palms, making
him bleed to pay for what he was doing.
And
there was a scream—his maybe—he looked up with his physical eyes, saw one of
the guards coming at him to strike down Krillin who was chanting in his home
language, and Goten raisee ofe of his bloody palms, raised a shield of
telekinetic energy around the two of them that the idiot smacked into.
as that disgusting thing he called a mind replayed the vision.
Saw
the guard before him as Chichi grabbed it from behind, her face dark and heavy,
spider fangs showing as her jaws changed and she sank those fangs—thick,
vicious fangs that paralyzed and tore apart their victims—into the guards’ neck,
ripped them out and blood sprayed everywhere, covered the shield with it and he
closed his eyes.
Found
himself in Bardock’s vision, looking at Kakarot crying.
boy cried, because it wasn’t Goku lying on the floor of the throne room with
his body bloody and dying, it was Kakarot.
Like Goku had been when he was stuck with Freiza.
blood and tears and begging for his life.
Not that Bardock gave a fuck, it seemed.
He
just raised his hand again, murdered his son with his ki and laughed when
Kakarot screamed. Laughed until Goten
felt that laughter in his own chest, and he shifted the thought, directed the
mind to a new vision, one of nothing important. An interruption by one of the guards. The King coughing a lot.
Dying.
Nothing
of interest.
Nothing
that made him sick.
~~~***
Goku
looked at the countless guards. Looked
at his own species for the first time in years and felt something throb inside
of him to know that they were willing to give their lives, and they just might
be. Because Chichi hissed out with
pleasund gnd grinned. Let her spider
form take over completely and charged forward to claim the victims of her
hunger. He shook his head.
Saw
them come for him.
“Don’t
make me kill you,” he said. Not that
they cared. They attacked with a
mindless, obsessive determination. He
powered up, straight into Super Saiyan, and felt their fists on him like a
little child’s. Knocked them all back
with one kick. But they got up just the
same, and he felt a sense of deep dread that he might not make it out of this
fight without having to take their life.
And he knew that somehow it was his father’s fault that this was the
case, and he h him him more and more.
More
every time a new guard went before Chichi and got it throat ripped out so she
could gorge herself on the blood and the symphony of violence that she
made. Hated him more with every punch
and every kick to his own kind. A kind
he hadn’t seen since he was a tiny child because his father had wanted him
dead. Knocked them back and prolonged
the pain of their defeat as the floor got slick and bloody under his feet and
Chichi started to sing in her language, the clicking of her fangs together, the
movement of her elegant pale hands—hands like bleached bones—and he ignored it.
Forced
himself not to hear it, and as he slammed his fist into one of their heads,
knocked them back on to the floor, where the blood was layered so thick it
coated the fallen guard, he realized that he was not ignoring that song, that
praise for the kill, but actually humming to it. Picking up the rhythm and moving to it. Joining in the beautiful symphony.
He
breathed out, saw his breath like icicles before him and the floor froze the
blood, so it was impossible to move. He
turned, saw the giant spider looming, the shadow of the spider and Trunks stood
there in the middle of the hallway, half turned between the entrance guards and
where he stood. Eyes completely black,
hair black and spiked upwards, covered, hugged tight in the legs of the spider
as it too sang the song of the dead.
Flared the symbols of the unforgiven on its giant back, leaned over
Trunks and stabbed its black shadow legs into the ground.
“Stop
playing,” Trunks said to him. Every
word he spoke made the room colder, until the blood that splashed stood as a
frozen monument to the horror they made.
“Knock them out or kill them.”
Then he turned his back again, raised the sword that hummed with power
in the frozen massacre.
“Yessssssssssssssssss,”
Chichi hissed, “They are foul and stinking with the sins of the traitor on
them. You may kill them now, or watch
them die in shame. But they will die.”
she licked the blood from her mouth as her face returned to normal and she
tipped her head to one side. “The King
will order them dead, little fly. Every
one of them.”
Goku
pulled his feet free of the frozen gore and hovered in the air, watched the
Guards stumble, watched them try to get to their feet and Chichi smiled at
nothing, he raised his hands, gathered all the power he could and with one
final scream of hate beyond his ability to really understand, he let that power
go.
Watched
it burn the blood into the floor and etch the shadows of the dead into the
walls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****
HAPPY,
ain’t it?
Vegeta: Sex
would be less angsty.
Goku: Not in
this story.
Goten: I’s
gots a question.
Everyone:
*looks at him *
Goten:
Sheesh, creepy people. My question
is…well, really, is Krillin ever going to get those Gods to show up?
Krillin:
*STILL chanting *
Vegeta:
Looks like ay tay take a while.
Jaygoose:
Lol.
excitement. *sigh *
There is the slight possibly that by the time you get back the whole
fight will be over. *looks at plotline
* Riiiiiiiiight.
I don’t feel sorry for Gohan.
Macha:
Yeah.
prove to him that he’s not as ‘strong’ as they are. And those stupid gods.
*growls at them * They are
impossible to make happy.
Jess-C-Cups:
Wow.
Glad that you’re reading it.
Absolutely astounded it was recommended to you.
Mechanical Butterfly:
Actually
the ‘what happens next’ with Ve que question is the only one I haven’t really
put much thought into. *shrugs *
okay. *pats his princely head *
Yeah…Vegeta and Aya… trying to
prove their the better uke. But…*scratches
head * I know Goku will be Vegeta’s
partner. Who would be Aya’s?
Ah!
Krillin’s side! Yeah!
* Yeah!
Yay!
having to have the dreams and not Gohan.
*growls at Gohan. * I really don’t like him in this fic.
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