Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with.

Author's Notes: Not much to say today. I am hoping that this turned out as well as I wanted it to.

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PRESENT DAY

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Dr. Gero flinched and struggled against Sixteen's grip as another crash reverberated through the lower docks. “Let me go!” He shrieked, tugging so hard that Bulma thought he might rip his own arm right out of the socket. “Now, I say! Listen to me, you useless bucket of bolts!”

“Please calm down, father.” Sixteen said calmly, no emotions on his face though the watching company flinched with each worsening insult. The big android still refused to release his hold.

“You stupid piece of junk! I should have scrapped you for parts, like I did Nineteen!” The old man wailed as the station rumbled. “They're going to ruin my ship! My precious Red Station, my beautiful experiments, and you're just going to let them, aren't you? You're jealous!” He rounded on Sixteen, no longer tugging, but now advancing on his so-called son, hissing venom worse than the most poisonous snake. “You don't want them to be born, do you? My true children, my precious ones, they're going to die if the station is ruined! That's what you want, isn't it?” Dr. Gero jabbed Sixteen in the chest, hard enough to make a sound, with his free hand. Sixteen neither flinched nor changed expression.

“Doctor Gero!” Bulma gasped, glaring at the old man. She'd have stood up and given him a good slap if she could have, but Dende was still cradled on her lap, inconsolable. She thought briefly of handing him off to her mother, but his fingers were clutched so tight in her sweater that she thought he might tear right through it if she tried.

“And you!” Dr. Gero whirled, his movement made awkward by the fact that one arm was still firmly clamped between Sixteen's hands. “You...you...” He sputtered. “This is YOUR fault. Ever since you and your band of rats came aboard,” he gestured wildly at Bulma and her parents, Tien, Puar, Oolong and Roshi, “inviting all kinds of riff-raff in here, filling up my precious place with filthy saiyans, minions of Frieza! And now this!” He snarled and lunged, tried to anyway, but Sixteen held him back. “You will be the death of us all!”

“Father!” Sixteen gasped, looking helplessly around at his companions, plainly at a loss for what to do.

“Shut your mouth, you old coot!” Bulma shrieked back, worried in the pit of her stomach that he might just be right. “This is not the time!” She cuddled the boy closer, afraid that if she didn't keep her arms around him, she might just jump up and start swinging. Dende buried his face into her shoulder. “Look, you old shit,” Bulma made a show of rubbing his back, “you're scaring him!”

“Little urchin, what do I care?” The old man sneered. “Crybaby. Whiner. Inferior little mmmph!” He squealed and cursed, nasty words muffled by Sixteen's big hand, clamped firmly over his mouth.

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In the hangar, Vegeta snorted as Radditz hit the wall with a thump. Ginyu had obviously had time to accustom himself to Nail's body and while in the namek form he was not the strongest of opponents, he was quick and agile, able to dodge the must slower attacks of hulking Radditz and Nappa. Vegeta hung back, watching and studying, not so foolish as to jump in without warning...aside from messing up the idiot captain's choreography, which was an opportunity too good to pass up. Vegeta had always enjoyed getting in Captain Ginyu's way - he hated the other's flamboyant style, his boasting and ridiculous poses, the way he turned the art of fighting into an absolute farce. Being one of Frieza's favourite pets had the unfortunate side effect of blowing one's ego up so far that it threatened to explode all over everyone else in a shower of pompous garbage. Vegeta himself was arrogant as sin, but he'd never exactly been an obedient little pet and he certainly had more pride than to dance about like a lunatic, proclaiming his prowess over all things to everyone within earshot.

“Enough of this.” He muttered to himself, watching Nappa fall to his knees after a particularly nasty kick to the back. Vegeta had backed off to let his men try their hand, electing to watch and study Ginyu's moves from the side. Had the use of their full arsenal been an option, he was sure his two subordinates could have long since taken the stubborn Ginyu down, but luckily for everyone on the station, those involved in the fight were smart enough to know that a too-powerful ki blast could easily blow a hole right through the thick metal if dodged or deflected, and no one felt like being sucked out into the vacuum of space to their doom. As it was, there were dents in some of the walls from bodily impacts, and one of the spines on the namek ship had been bent to a precarious angle after a nasty collision with Nappa's butt. “Gohan, Kakarott,” he snapped at the two standing obediently behind him, waiting their turn. Krillin and Piccolo had taken Vegeta's orders with less grace, but had bowed to his greater experience. It wasn't a big space and while everyone was itching for the fight, it was not wise to allow everyone to attack all at once. There was too much potential for damage and Vegeta did not intend for them all to remain stuck in a space station with their only modes of transport all smashed to bits, while Frieza's forces made their way on over. “Guru is still trapped within the namekian vessel. You two will retrieve him and see him safe beyond the door with the others.” Gohan nodded and was off in a flash, but Goku remained behind, twiddling his thumbs.

“Umm, Vegeta...uh...sir...” he looked longingly at the fight, felt his fingers twitch and his power level jump. He wasn't used to following orders and he definitely wasn't used to sitting out. “I was hoping that maybe I could...uh...fight?” He finished on a high note, debating the wisdom of his speech as Vegeta turned to glare.

“Kakarott. Do you honestly think I have not noticed your secret writhings, the oh-so-carefully hidden clutching of your limbs, the catching of your breath?” Vegeta shook his head. “Do you wish to die, so soon after your life has been given back to you? Go and do as I say.” He cocked his head toward Gohan, who was darting across the battlefield.

“Uhm...ah...sure.” Goku shrank back a little from Vegeta's venom and started awkwardly away, not at all certain that he liked this whole being a saiyan thing. Sure, it was nice to have knowledge of his heritage and family, and he was eternally grateful that they'd cared for Gohan in his absence...but if being saiyan meant always having to do what Vegeta said, well that wasn't so great. Beyond that though, he thought as he got further from the prince, was the fact that he hadn't even given a second thought to the crippling attacks that had been plaguing his body. He'd seen the fighting, felt the call to arms in his veins, and hadn't even considered the fact that he might die. Without Earth's dragonballs to resurrect him, he would stay dead. A nagging sense of guilt - a foreign feeling - whispered at the back of his brain. Wasn't that what Chichi had been talking about, when she spoke to him of putting his family first? They didn't need him to fight Ginyu; Radditz and Nappa were doing fine and if Vegeta stepped in, the whole thing would be over. It wasn't like his participation or lack thereof would decide the battle. So why, he wondered, was he so eager to jump on in?

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Ginyu wheezed as pain lanced through his lower back, courtesy of the saiyan foot lodged in his lumbar. “Ahh, V'geta!” Nappa grinned at the sprawled form of Ginyu and cracked his knuckles as the prince landed neatly nearby, not affected in the least that he'd just finished launching himself off of his opponent. “You've decided to join the fun!”

“Pfft, fun?” Vegeta cocked his head and watched Ginyu right himself. “I've come to stop you from embarrassing yourselves too much. You should have finished with this weakling ages ago!”

“Awww, but -” Radditz whined, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one.

“Oh, shut up Radditz.” Vegeta sighed, shaking his head. “The both of you are wasting my time. I know you're slow, but surely even you two should understand that the scouter on the side of his head is probably transmitting every last breath of this conversation right back to Frieza - that's right, you slimy lizard, it was me!” he called, before resuming his earlier sentence, “Along with our exact coordinates. So forgive me if I want to finish this before we are up to our necks in soldiers. Now stay out of my way and keep an eye out in case he gets desperate and decides to blow a hole in the station.”

Ginyu wiped his mouth to hide a smile as he prepared to face off against Vegeta. Really, he couldn't have planned this any better! The saiyan prince was strong, among the most powerful warriors in Frieza's empire, and now that he'd gone and become a traitor, well Frieza would surely not mind if someone else happened to inhabit that formidable body. Ginyu had wondered what he'd do once Nail outlived his usefulness, now that his old body was dead and gone. The namek body was alright, very tough for one of his species, but incomparable to the horned god he'd been, and with most of the premier bodies in the universe already occupied by Frieza's warriors...well, he'd been left with few options.

Ginyu dusted his pants off, eager to be free of them too - he missed his short shorts, so tight and form fitting and easy to fight in. Not like these stupid baggy things, and what was with the namek shoes, while he was at it? So damn long and pointy; he had to be careful not to trip. “Vegeta, Vegeta...”he tsked shifting “Give me a bit of a challenge, will you? Your little followers here were disappointing.” He gestured dismissively at the other two snarling saiyans and crooked a finger at Vegeta. “Come here, and I'll make sure you regret ever turning traitor.”

“Hah, turning? What makes you think I was ever loyal in the first place?” Vegeta laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. He sneered at his opponent, seeing not the green skinned namek, but the purple, horned thing who'd helped make his life a living hell. He knew he'd have to be vigilant in this fight, not let his guard down for a single second lest Ginyu get the idea in his head to try out that damn sneaky body snatching technique. The problem in it was that Ginyu did not switch bodies often and while Vegeta had been there when Ginyu took the purple body he was best known for, he hadn't been close, nor had he been paying much attention at the time and was therefore unfamiliar with the precursors to the switching beam. He wasn't sure what to look out for, exactly, and was worried that if he stayed on Ginyu, right in close to him, he might not have time to dodge if and when it came. That was another reason he'd dismissed Radditz and Nappa, and forbade Kakarott and Gohan from joining the fight. More bodies meant more confusion, and Vegeta did not relish the idea of having to slaughter a saiyan body because it contained a foreign soul.

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Guru was weak and wheezing, the stress of their arrival at Red Station having taken its toll on the old man. All along he'd known it was the only option, but seeing his plan come to fruition and dealing with the effects and losses it would cause was harder than he ever could have imagined. Snare was dead, Vengeance's identity revealed and the coordinates of Red Station exposed, and it rested squarely on his shoulders, all because he'd been too foolish to see what was going on sooner. Guilt pressed heavily down upon him, with the knowledge that he'd brought Ginyu here knowing that Vegeta would kill him, all in a bizarre circumvention of the code he lived by that prevented him from doing the deed himself.

“I am sorry.” He whispered to the two saiyans at his side. “I could not do it myself, nor order one of my followers...I am sorry. Vegeta...he...”

“Vegeta will do what needs to be done.” Gohan said, with startling sureness. “Now hush, conserve your strength. We need to get you somewhere safer.”

“It's clear for now,” Goku said, peeking out the door to watch the blurs of motion that were Vegeta and Ginyu, “but we'd better hurry.” He rushed back in to join his son in the awkward business of manoeuvring Guru's bulk. They were both strong enough to lift him easily, but his size made it difficult. In the end they joined hands and fashioned an awkward, lop-sided sort of swing to carry the old sage across the hangar.

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Vegeta rushed Ginyu, lashing out in a flurry of punches and then darting backward again before the captain had a chance to mount a proper counter attack. It wasn't a strategy that Vegeta particularly liked the use of, but the threat of Ginyu's special ability loomed large over their battle and the prince was hesitant to stay in close quarters for too long. It was especially annoying, knowing that the fight was taking longer because of it. While Frieza himself was far away, his reach extended throughout this portion of the universe and depending on the call that went out, the first battalions could begin arriving within hours. Not likely, due to the strength of the threat and the sheer number of regular forces needed to combat it, but still possible, and Vegeta was loathe to waste the time.

Ginyu snarled, reaching out with Nail's long limbs and trying to grab a hold of Vegeta before he could get away, but the damn monkey was too fast for him and he missed. It wasn't as though he was doing horribly - he'd landed several blows and was holding his own, but when the hell had Vegeta grown so strong? He was actually beginning to worry about the outcome of the fight, and it was a situation that Ginyu did not find himself in very often. The last time, in fact, was when he'd acquired his favourite of all the bodies he'd inhabited, and that was over a decade ago. He'd lost track of the number of years - it was easy to do when you'd been alive for a few centuries, hopping from body to body as youth and usefulness expired.

Ginyu tensed as his scouter blipped, dodging just in time as Vegeta swung in from behind, this time managing to latch on to the prince's arm, hauling him back to slam his knee into saiyan kidneys. “That's for earlier, you monkey piece of shit.” He hissed as Vegeta arched in pain, “And this is just because I want to!” He socked the saiyan in the face, knocking him back a few yards.

“Pah.” Vegeta spat a mouthful of blood on the ground - no teeth bounced off the rubber matting. He ran his tongue around his mouth, wiggled a loose molar with his tongue, and clamped his jaw together to shove it back into place. “That the best you got?” He grinned a bloody smile and launched forward, “Because I'm going to let you know right now, it's not going to be good enough.”

“Such a cocky little bastard.” Ginyu shook his head and sneered, surprised that Vegeta had recovered so quickly from the hit to the back. It hadn't exactly been a pulled punch. He met the prince head on in the air and to those watching, they became a blur of moving bodies, trading kicks and punches, block for block, so quickly that it was difficult to tell who was who from below.“You know, for the longest time I never understood what Frieza saw in you, but now I get it. You're always telling jokes, Vegeta.” Ginyu panted, jumping back and trying to break away from the action for a moment. Vegeta was relentless, however, allowing his opponent not a moment's rest. “Every king needs a jester.” He managed, just before Vegeta's kick connected and he was sent flying sideways into the wall.

Ginyu's shoulder hit with a crack, and he fell to the ground gasping and arching with the pain that lanced through his arm and collarbone. He coughed and hissed as the movement jarred the broken bones. “Shit.” He snarled, dizzily struggling to his feet and preparing for the next onslaught. It would have to be soon - there was no way he could continue to fight effectively with a broken arm and a collarbone that was at least cracked, if not worse. And there would be no way that Vegeta could hit back either, once in this severely damaged body. He'd be easy prey, and Ginyu would have himself a fine, new body. Not quite as dignified or impressive as his old one, but strong and good enough to serve him until something better came along.

Vegeta watched Ginyu slide down the wall from above. He'd heard the crunch of bone beneath the shriek of protesting metal and knew that the body snatcher was gravely injured. Nothing fatal, of course, but the other man's ability to fight would be severely hindered, going hand to hand as they were. Then again, the prince reasoned, the injury might just make him more dangerous, more desperate. With no chance of winning, he'd have to be on the lookout not only for the switching technique, but also for the possibility that Ginyu when faced with death, might just decide to blow a hole in Red Station and take them all down with him.

“Nappa, Radditz!” Vegeta called out, keeping his eyes trained on the not-quite-namek. “Loph yan! Rok se Braks!”

“Did you catch that, Dad?” Gohan panted as he and his father quick-stepped their way across the hangar, crossing right under the prince. Goku grunted from the other side of Guru's bulk, and Gohan took that for a no. “He said to watch Ginyu, and to guard the walls. Did you see what happened? Ginyu must be looking desperate.”

“Is Vegeta going to kill him, do you think?” Goku asked, peeking around the green man's massive stomach to catch his son's eye.

“Pfft.” Gohan snorted, adjusting his grip. “I would. And Vegeta's too smart to leave him alive. That power he's got makes him dangerous to us, even if we kept him prisoner.”

“Ahh, right.” Goku nodded solemnly and cast a glance up at the prince, standing in midair as easily as if he were on solid ground, feet spread and arms crossed. He wondered what it was like, to kill someone on purpose, in cold blood, but knew it wasn't the sort of question he could really ask. Gohan would get all quiet and withdrawn on him, and the other saiyans were sure to just laugh.

“Ginyu's a rat, Dad.” Gohan said, misinterpreting the awkward silence. “Don't bother feeling sorry for him. He'd kill us all in a heartbeat, if he could.”

Vegeta, oblivious to the conversation taking place below him, was still watching Ginyu, trying to gauge the exact extent of his opponent's injuries. He couldn't leave the other man with too much opportunity at this critical stage in battle, nor did he want to end up caught in a trap if Ginyu wasn't as hurt as he appeared to be. On the other hand was the desire to finish his opponent quickly so that he could sort out the mess he'd found himself in, before Frieza's men arrived to help him with the task. Ginyu, he knew, was undoubtedly entertaining the same train of thought down below, trying to see a way through the mire and muck that they'd gotten into while still coming out on top.

Ginyu tensed as Vegeta dove, the saiyan prince heading straight for him. He held his breath, counting the seconds and gauging the time before he could attempt his special technique and steal the upper hand once more. Closer, closer the monkey came, screaming fury and ki crackling so bright it was blinding. The scouter on the side of Ginyu's face blipped incessantly as the readings climbed high, whirring by so fast that the numbers were simply a blur in front of his eye. He crouched, shielding his wounded arm, and drew breath, preparing himself, pulling his soul and his power and the essence of all that was Ginyu into his lungs, ready to belch it forth in a ray of brightness. If he timed it wrong, everything would be over. Vegeta would dodge the beam if he shot too early, or plow straight into him if he waited too long. But Ginyu had an impeccable sense of timing - all his years of dance and gymnastics had not been wasted.

Hold, hold...not yet. The sweat trickled down Ginyu's back and the infernal antennae on his forehead twitched with restless nerves. The fingers of both hands were clenched hard, despite the pain it caused in his broken arm. He fought back the nausea that threatened to turn out his stomach, the fear that nested at the base of his spine, and the sudden thought that he might actually die today. After so many years that he'd lost count, so many bodies abandoned before age could cripple them, today might be the end. Vegeta drew closer, and Ginyu shut down his conscious brain and left his body and his instincts in control. Breath. Wait. Heartbeat. Breath. Blink. Heartbeat. Wait. Heartbeat. Go.

Ginyu opened his mouth and forced all that was himself into his breath, watching with detached vision as the ball of light formed in his jaws and shot outward, straight and true at his intended target. Watched Vegeta blur to the side with a surprising burst of speed and a split second ripple of gold through his aura before he corrected his course. The scouter squealed and cracked with a puff of smoke, falling from his face just as Vegeta rammed into him, laughing.

“Oops, too bad.” He slammed his fist into Ginyu's stomach and kicked him sideways. The beam hurtled through the air and into the side of the namekian ship, blowing the bent horn to bits. “Though I think I might have done you a favour.” Vegeta snorted, following Ginyu's body as it bounced and skidded across the floor. The body thief was closer now to the small group of watching Saiyans than Vegeta had let him come before, but with Vegeta on him like a rabid animal with prey firmly in its jaws, there was no time to gather himself for another try at the body-switching beam. “Can you imagine,” Vegeta was saying as he advanced, “how very pissed off Frieza would have been, had you turned up in my body, and me in that pathetic husk?” He laughed. “Don't fool yourself, Ginyu, he wants to torture this body. The one that's caused him so much trouble, the one that's been so disobedient.” He kicked Ginyu in the ribs, the movement jarring the crack in his collarbone. Vegeta laughed as Ginyu howled in pain. “Not quite used to it, are you?” He bent low and whispered in Ginyu's ear. “Right about now, you've usually managed that little trick of yours and been done with it all. Well not this time.” He grabbed Ginyu by the head and pulled, the body-snatcher shrieking in pain as he felt the vertebrae in his neck begin to separate. Vegeta was going to break his neck, leave him dead without even a hole in him to prove his worth.

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“Father, stop struggling!” Sixteen insisted, trying to grab the old man's fisted hand as it flailed, connecting with surprising power into his flesh. One of Sixteen's arms was banded around the doctor's waist, holding him there as best as he could, while the other chased his father's fists, trying to stop him from doing any more damage. The main strut in his left thigh was running on forty percent damage already - he could feel that some of the tendon-wires connected to his knee had sprung - and there was a crack in his breastplate from where Ginyu had rammed him with the back of his skull. The old man knew his weak points, that was for certain.

Sixteen wasn't alone in his injuries. Chichi was sporting the beginnings of a bruise on her chin from one of the old man's surprisingly hard fists, and Tien had been forced to withdraw after being jabbed in the third eye, which Bulma was currently examining, trying to assess if the damage from Gero's fingernails would be permanent. Dr. Briefs hovered nervously over his daughter's shoulder, holding a small flashlight for her as she instructed the triclops to blink and to look this way and that. He cast a look over his shoulder at the vitriolic madman who'd once been his collaborator and coworker. He'd never before been afraid of the man, even after news of his secret and twisted experiments had blown through the scientific community like a hurricane, but terror itched at the base of his spine now, seeing the cold madness in those blue eyes and wondering just what Gero had gotten up to in the years since his disappearance from Earth. Androids were just scratching the surface of Gero's secret work; that was certain.

“Quit it, you old bastard!” Chichi hissed, snapping her hands out and taking hold of one of Gero's fists, just before he managed to make contact with Sixteen's thigh again. “You're going to break him!” She held on, gritting her teeth as his arm wriggled and struggled like an eel in her grasp.

“Good!” Dr. Gero spat, narrowly missing her face. “When I rebuild him, I'll remember to do a better job!” He aimed a kick at Sixteen's shin. “My finest creation, pah! What a fool I was, to believe this hunk of trash was anything special!”

“Now you listen here!” Chichi gasped, loosing her grip with the intention of grabbing the old man by the shirtfront, even though he was already firmly pinned to Sixteen. Gero took advantage of her slip, striking out with heretofore unknown force, his fist connected with Chichi's stomach and send her skidding backward into the wall.

“Chichi!” Sixteen cried out, and Gero slammed his elbow backward into his devoted son's ventilator area, knocking the breath from the android and breaking the vicelike hold he'd had around the doctor's midsection. Dr. Gero sprang from his son's grasp and leapt for the door, and in the crush and confusion of everyone trying to pull him back and succeeding only in hindering each other, he burst through the door an onto the battlefield, startling five saiyans, one Namek, and one sort-of-namek in the process. Ginyu felt Vegeta's hold slip and he went for it, gathering himself into his breath once more. Vegeta saw it coming and jumped away, but this time Ginyu wasn't aiming for the saiyan prince; no, he was aiming for someone far stupider, someone who happened to be stomping toward him at that very moment, lips flying as he screamed obscenities at everything and everyone around.

Vegeta cursed as the beam flew toward Dr. Gero but he dared not do anything to interrupt it, lest he be caught in it himself. Gero shrieked as the golden beam plowed into him, and Ginyu stared in stunned surprise down at his own hands, still the green hands of the namek called Nail. “What?” He asked aloud, disbelief flooding through his veins as he watched the old man hurtle back in the direction from which he'd come, propelled by the beam that should have switched them. There was a crash and the shatter of glass as Gero's head hit the wall, the beam finally losing what little strength it had left as the man's sodden, black hat hit the floor, followed by a pierced and bleeding human brain. The stink of burnt circuitry was in the air, and Gero's body sizzled and smoked as the blue fluid dripping from his head made contact with newly exposed wires.

“Holy shit.” Said Radditz, as he stared down at the brain by his feet.

“NO!” Ginyu shrieked as Vegeta regained his wits. “No, how can this be?” He asked of no one in particular, as panic began to surge through him. “If I'm going to die today, I'll take all of you with me!” He shrieked, gathering all the power that remained in him he lifted his good arm and fired a burst of ki at the outer wall.

“GO!” Vegeta shouted at his men, who burst into action, each racing to head off the blast before it could do any major damage. “Like hell I'm dying now.” He snarled at Ginyu, grasping the green head and twisting, hard. “Have fun in Hell.” He spat, feeling the crack of bones and the snap of tendons. Ginyu's body went limp and his bladder loosed, and by some cruel joke, some turn of whatever fate was watching, his fingers twitched and the beam of ki that was his last action swerved suddenly to the left, right past the group of fighters who'd gathered there to head it off. They dove, as though in unison, but the energy was quick and in the end, the one to stop its deadly course was Guru, who leapt into its path with the spry vigour of a man centuries younger and several hundred pounds lighter.

“GURU!” A small voice shrieked, and Dende was rushing through the door, sobbing, to his master's side. The rest of the inhabitants of Red Station followed, watching with tears in their eyes as the saiyans parted to allow the small boy passage. The immediate danger was over.

“Dende...Dende.” The old namek wheezed, his massive body shuddering with the effort to draw breath. He smiled with relief as small hands clutched his own, squeezing reassurance.

“I'm here, Master Guru.” The boy's voice was thick with tears, though steel echoed from its depths. “I'll heal you, Guru. It will be okay.”

“You must not.” Guru coughed, dark purple blood spattering his lips. “You can not. It is done, and we must hurry.” He grasped the child's hands with a surprisingly strong grip for a man in the throes of his own death. “Come and bow your head.” He released Dende, lifting one hand with great effort to lay it on the boy's forehead. “Open your mind. I will give you what I can. I wish it was more, but I must have some strength to spare.”

Dende's eyes widened with understanding as his forehead grew warm. He jerked back, a refusal strangled in his throat as the big hand clamped down around his skull, strong with determination, and pulled him close again. Guru's knowledge, his power, and wisdom were pouring through that connection, as though the old sage had built a bridge straight into Dende's brain. More than that; his soul was expanding, growing, learning and changing with the influx of Guru's essence, and a fresh wave of tears poured from his eyes as he realized exactly what it meant. “No...noooo.” Dende moaned, his shoulders slumping even as the hand of his master continued to hold his head up. “You can't.” He sobbed, clutching at the arm with small fingers. “You can't do this. Don't go. Please.”

“This is the fate that I foresaw.” Guru wheezed. “It must be this way. I give you all I can, Dende, for you must step up and take my place as the elder of our people.”

“I can't!” Dende wailed, his eyes widening with horror. “How can I be the elder, Master, when I have not even half the years of the youngest namek here?”

“Do not fear.” Guru managed to chuckle, even though the motion brought more blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. “The position of Elder, of Great Sage is not about how old you are, Dende. I have known many old fools in my time, and many brilliant children. Don't you see? This has been my intent from the moment I took you as my student. You were never meant to be a simple village leader, my son, but will be a great man, a God. I have seen it.” The old sage coughed, his bulk shifting violently as he did so, and he finally dropped his hand from Dende's forehead. “It is done. Go and live well, child.” He gestured weakly, and Bulma stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Dende's shoulder. He whirled and clung to her, arms tight around her hips, face buried in her belly and tears soaking right through her shirt. She stroked his head and hugged him tightly, lifting her hands from him only to swipe at her own gushing eyes and running nose.

“Vegeta.” Guru heaved a rattling breath, his eyes glassy as he looked at those gathered around him. “Vegeta, come here. Ahh, there you are, boy.” He smiled as Vegeta stepped forward, one of the only people in the universe who could call the prince boy and not ignite his fury. Vegeta swallowed and knelt down next to the prone form of his ally, willing himself to be as kind as he knew how.

“Take off your gloves.” Guru ordered, and Vegeta did so, laying them carefully on his lap. “Give me your hands.” The green man said, and Vegeta complied, even as Guru reached over so as not to give him a choice. Vegeta jerked and snarled, his eyes going wide as he felt the crackle of energy zip through their palms, like an static shock on steroids. “You are the universe's only hope.” Guru said, gripping Vegeta's hands with surprising strength for a dying man. “Do not fear the power inside of you.”

“I don't.” Vegeta snapped, just to be contrary as panic bubbled within him. The crack in his belly was opening again, the contents steaming and bubbling as it boiled up out of the darkness. The same raw, furious energy that had nearly killed him twice now, that power that lived within him that he could not control, it was pouring out even as he tried to hold it back, like water through a sieve. The skin of his palms, the connection between him and Guru, burned and sizzled. Vegeta knew that the sage must be feeling it too, yet the old man did not flinch away in pain, nor did his grip on Vegeta's hands weaken in the slightest.

“Let it out.” Guru insisted. Vegeta shook his head, but the crackle of power surrounded them, and he felt his hold on it slipping away, crumbling around him as he raced to reinforce it. “Let it out.” Guru said again, and Vegeta felt the pulse of it in his veins, the bulge and strain of it in his muscles. His scalp tingled, his tail stood on end, stiff and puffed to twice its normal size. “Listen to me, Vegeta, and I will give you what you have dreamed of all your life.”

“I can't control it.” Vegeta ground out through clenched teeth as the familiar burn started to spread through him, the pain of too much ki, as though he were engulfed in a ball of it, his body turning to ash. “You'll kill us all!” He choked, his body curling as every muscle cramped with the pain of his restraint.

“You can do it.” Guru wheezed, squeezing the hands between his as hard as he could. He could feel his body shutting down; they were running out of time and if he did not do what needed to be done, the entire universe was doomed to live forever in Frieza's shadow. “Let it out, Vegeta!” He roared, digging his nails into the prince's hands. “All of your anger, all of your fear and your hatred! Dive into it and let your violent heart bathe in the blood of it, the black place in you. Unleash the cracked thing inside, and take hold of it!”

Vegeta reared back and howled as pain overcame him, rushing through his veins, burning through him like he'd never felt before. His vision blurred and his brain fizzed inside his skull, as though all the liquid in his body had begun to boil. He didn't hear the gasps and screams of the gathered onlookers, nor their awed questions and exclamations. He didn't see their pointing fingers, their trembling hands and teary faces. He saw blackness, alive and writhing ink, and heard only a buzzing sort of roar, like rushing water, so loud he thought his head might split from the sound of it. He wrenched his hands from Guru's grip and clapped them over his ears, his fingers digging into his scalp as he tried to block out the noise, to no avail. It was in his skull, echoing around and bouncing off the walls and gaining volume even as he screamed himself hoarse for it to stop and to just shut up, not that he could hear his own voice over the roar, but he felt his mouth moving, felt his vocal cords stretching and straining.

Guru was scrabbling for him, clutching and grasping, he could feel it on his skin, feel the movement as his hands were grabbed away again, clenched tightly between warm palms. “Let me help you.” The voice cut through the rush inside his brain and he was startled to see a flash of light in the darkness. It pinged off the inside of his skull and shattered, sending out a thousand tiny sparks and then it was gone. But there was another one, and another one, and soon there were flashes of light in all the colours his saiyan eyes could see, and some that they could not, flashing around in his head and exploding like so many fireworks behind his eyeballs.

Vegeta opened his eyes and found he could see again, Guru's pale face swimming into focus before him, his mouth moving quickly and a moment later the words making their way through the fug in his head. “Focus on me, Vegeta. Let out your power and focus on me.”

“I'll kill you.” Vegeta whispered, his voice cracking with strain and his lungs burning like he'd breathed in a mouthful of embers, and he wondered how long he'd been sitting there, blind and deaf and screaming.

“It is the only way. Now hurry, before I die of my injuries.” Guru said, and Vegeta knew that it was too late to turn back, too late to stuff it all back inside him, too late to patch up the cracked place with chewing gum and duct tape, like he'd done in the past.

“I'm sorry.” Vegeta croaked, and the ancient namek smiled.

“I am happy to die for the universe. And yet the sorrow is mine, to place it on your shoulders.” He took a deep breath, let it out slow like he was savouring it. It would be his last, he knew.

Vegeta nodded and bowed his head, closing his eyes and clutching Guru's hands tightly as he focused on the raw energy boiling around them. He stopped trying to hold it in, ceased his efforts to plug the leak in his soul, and simply let it flow out, channelling it all through his hands and into the body of the dear friend he hadn't really known he'd had. He heard all the comments this time, the gasps and the sobs and the wonder in the voices of those watching as the transformation began again. He felt the pulsing in his veins, felt the ripple of gold in his hair like wind over a field of grain and struggled to catch it, to hold it down and make it stay with him. His eyes burned each time they flashed from black to blue, suddenly so much more sensitive to the light and yet he asked that, too, to stay.

He knew the second that Guru died, felt the pulse no more through old, arthritic hands, the shudder of life as it exits the body, and knew it as the moment his transformation was complete. He laid the old man's hand down across his still chest and stood, staring at his own hands and marvelling at the pure power he could feel there. His tail swished behind him and he caught the blur of gold motion, and the reflection of his hair in the steel panelling around him. The world was bright and shining, and his eyes no longer burned but grew wider as he took in all that was around him, seen with clarity and detail that he had never known. The inhabitants and new visitors to Red Station all stared, transfixed and motionless with awe as Vegeta stood there and marvelled at himself. He looked at them and the spell was broken, his small troupe of followers falling to their knees in awe, bowing low before their king. Even Goku looked moved, one hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt, over his heart. The displaced nameks were chattering away, bewildered and frightened, their dark eyes resting alternately on the hulking corpse of their old leader, and on the shivering child who was to be their new one. Piccolo and the humans simply stared, all except for Bulma, who stumbled forward and collapsed against Vegeta with a sob, sagging against him so that he was forced to grasp her around the waist, or let her fall.

“You've done it.” She whispered, rubbing her sodden, salty face against his chest, when she was once more capable of words. “You've become the Super Saiyan.”

“I know.” Vegeta whispered, squeezing her tightly, and even his voice was filled with wonder. “I know.”