Resolution on a Lonely Planet

BY : Ulrike
Category: Dragon Ball Z > General
Dragon prints: 5431
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.


-This story takes place directly after ‘I Hate Being Right.’ It is a sequel to one of the most violent and disturbing DBZ fanfics written, however this story will be a lot slower. This fanfiction will not be as graphic and will not be as quick-moving as its original. Expect a lot of angst, sadness, and character analyses-



 



The light forest had never been so silent before. In fact, the warriors of Earth could not recall any other time when the animals had hid, shocked and frightened by the dreadful violence that had just occurred. The birds and squirrels and wildlife did not understand the cold horror that overtook their home, but deep down remained quiet as if to offer a moment of sad silence for the fallen.



The men who were so trained to fight and meet death head-on could not move; their eyes transfixed on what lay before them. Even though they all had the energy to fend off the growing cold, every warrior standing in the awful wooded area shivered and jerked with tension as chills rushed through their bones.



The short, bald earthling tore his eyes from the unbelievable sight and gazed up at his long-time friend. Seeing the haunted shadows in his ever-happy buddy’s eyes made Krillin’s stomach lurch with unsettling fright. He had never seen such an expression on Goku’s usually smiling face.



“What happened here?” The muscular Earth saiyajin whispered.



Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyajins, lay at their feet, sprawled and relaxed as if asleep. His arms rested at his sides and his head lulled to the left. His face was calm, but the warriors that stared down at him could not overlook the puddle of blood growing on the rocky soil on which he lay. The small saiyajin was shirtless except for a few strands of material clinging to his neck and upper chest. The skin that was visible to those surrounding him was almost white underneath splatters of blood and black bruises. Goku, Tien, Piccolo, Gohan, and Krillin could hardly draw in breath as they gazed at the blue and purple veins hiding underneath the usually bronze flesh. Gohan found himself clinging to his father’s pant-leg as his young six-year-old eyes observed the dark, hideous bruises that marred Vegeta’s entire abdomen, neck, and face. Deep cuts and gashes trailed across his body, and rivulets of dried blood stood frozen on his ever-paling skin.



Tears sprang to his eyes. Gohan had seen the worst of any battle against Frieza. He had seen the lizard brutally torture his friends and lick blood that splattered across his face as he ran a horn through Krillin’s stomach and beat Vegeta to death. Gohan had even been on the receiving end of the monster’s tortures, but there was something incredibly, horribly wrong here. His child mind could not grasp the true horror of this situation, but all of his young senses were screaming that an unimaginable nightmare had just occurred.



Goku slowly glanced over his shoulder, his black eyes gazing at Piccolo, his oldest rival and newest friend. The large Namek gave a slight nod and moved forward, drawing Gohan away from the scene. Goku watched the giant alien pull the boy close to his leg and shield the child from view with his billowing, white cape. Gohan did not fight to continue watching the events unfold. He merely remained quiet and pressed his tear-stained face against his master’s purple pant-leg. He had witnessed Vegeta’s tragic death only months earlier. Gohan may have been a half-saiyajin warrior, but he was still a child and could not bear to just stand and stare at such violence again.



Goku turned back to the gruesome sight and knelt by the body. His mind flashed back to the awful battle on Namek and his stomach clenched. He had to bury Vegeta himself in the planet’s soil, but the saiyajin prince had luckily been wished back with the other victims of Planet Namek. He’d been given a second chance. Yet it appeared that he now had this gift taken from him so soon after being granted life.



The third-class saiyajin cursed quietly to himself and closed his eyes. How could this have happened? Who got close enough to Vegeta to do this and how had no one even noticed? The injuries on the saiyajin’s body were not created by the energy of a fighter. No, Vegeta’s wounds were harsh, brutal, and primitive; the markings made by crazed men.



Goku remembered sitting at his house with Gohan only an hour earlier. Piccolo had been meditating outside and they all had just finished sparring, getting an early start on their training for the upcoming android battle in three years. Making a foot-long sandwich, Goku was about to shove the whole thing into his stretched mouth when he felt Yamcha’s power rise in the far distance of West City. He and Gohan locked eyes in shock and instantly grinned.



“Wow, Yamcha is certainly getting revved up for this battle!” Goku laughed. Shoving the gargantuan sandwich into his jaws, the playful warrior chewed happily. “His power sure went up after his training with King Kai!”



“Just like yours, Daddy,” Gohan replied excitedly.



“Hm, I wonder what Tien’s power will be like in three years. With the way Yamcha’s powerin’ up, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already surpassed Tien.”



The fiery aura in the saiyajins’ minds dimmed slightly and they returned to being easily distracted by their food. Piccolo, however, was finding it extremely hard to concentrate on anything but Yamcha’s fading power. The Namek had been forced to train with the scar-faced human for some time on King Kai’s planet. He knew that the earthling had improved, but the spike in power was immense, far stronger than Piccolo had ever felt from the meathead fighter. He focused closer on it, seeing the red energy flicker in his mind like a candle.



Face tightening in concentration, the psychic being tried to understand the growing sense of unease in his gut. The namek honestly did not care about the obnoxious human, but he was concerned about the unsettling emotions he was picking up in his mediation. Piccolo was still adjusting to being one of the “good guys,” but that didn’t mean he particularly liked his allies. He did, however, love the Earth and would be damned if he let anything happen to it. There were still opportunities to rule the planet after all.



Focusing on the environment surrounding Yamcha’s settling aura, Piccolo tried to target any other energies nearby. He always disliked trying to pinpoint the average human power level because, honestly, the average human had the same energy level as a large dog or wild cat. The warriors of Earth each had very unique energies that moved and reacted with their personalities. This made them easy to trace. In fact, ever since the arrogant saiyajin prince decided to camp out on Earth, Piccolo found his meditation disrupted a lot as the boisterous energy was always bobbing in and out of his mind. The spoiled, cold-hearted saiyajin wound his energy around his person like a winter coat, always broadcasting his strength and letting all those around him know who was boss.



The namek grumbled in annoyance and went back to his searching. Yamcha’s energy. Why had it been so huge and erratic? What were those accompanying emotions that darted into his senses so fervently? It was hard to tell if the weak energies around Yamcha were people or just animals. If there was no one else there, why had the human’s power burst forth so wildly? Was he truly just training as Goku had suspected?



Piccolo crossed his beefy arms tightly across his chest and lowered his chin. A chilly breeze blew through the air, but he was not in the least bothered. He had trained his body and mind to ignore the worst of temperature changes, often sitting in the coldest regions of the Antarctic for hours just focusing on the planet. He kept a part of his mind in the same direction as Yamcha, but decided to concentrate more on his mental training in preparation for his next spar against Goku.



About a half hour passed and Goku trotted outside, a satisfied grin on his face. Gohan skipped behind him, eager as always to be near Piccolo.



“Ready for another go?” The friendly saiyajin asked.



One sharp eye opened and the giant namek could not help but smirk at his old rival’s innocent face. How a dopey, peace-loving warrior became so powerful was beyond him. Standing, Piccolo was just about to throw his armored cape from his body when a snap of electricity clicked in his brain. Goku and Gohan jerked as they, too, felt the jolting shock of power erupt in their senses. It was Yamcha again…but this time a wave of overwhelming emotions accompanied the raw energy explosion. The three warriors had never felt such rage roll from the human warrior. Goku wasn’t even sure it was Yamcha as he was stricken with feelings of remorse, guilt, terror, and outright fury.



“I-I don’t sense anyone else with him,” Piccolo growled.



Goku remained silent momentarily, his eyes instantly growing sharp and animalistic as he focused all his mental concentration in Yamcha’s direction.



“Two humans…and…a weaker power. One that is fading drastically.”



“But who could it be?” Gohan demanded, instantly tensing at the thought of one of his friends in trouble.



“I…no…it couldn’t be,” Goku murmured.



Piccolo turned to his friend, but the third-class saiyajin had already blasted from the ground, leaving a small crater in the dirt. Piccolo and Gohan didn’t hesitate and rocketed after the powerful warrior, trying to keep up with his intense speed. Piccolo held onto his turban and squinted in the rushing wind. Golden light emanated from Goku’s blurred form, but he was not powering up to super-saiyajin yet. Still, to have such energy so close to use, Piccolo knew that something was definitely not right and the same chilling dread he felt when he first noticed Yamcha’s energy bubbled within his stomach. What the hell was happening?



The three warriors made it to West City in about 20 minutes, but Yamcha’s power had diminished as soon as it had risen. In fact, it was hard to locate the exact position he had been. West City was one of the largest communities in the area, and Goku, Piccolo, and Gohan did not know where to pinpoint his exact location.



Goku came to an abrupt stop above a heavily wooded area right on the outskirts of the city. The three fighters lowered down to the treetops so as not to scare any passerby who happened to be walking past the beautiful fountain standing directly in front of the forest. Settling on a heavy branch, Piccolo eyed his nervous ally, the green alien instantly on edge at the anxiety in Goku’s furrowed face.



“Did you sense someone else with him?” the namek asked softly.



Goku’s hands plucked orange leaves from the fall trees in which they perched. He shook his head and seemed to be at battle with himself.



“I thought…I mean I didn’t really sense a direct power, but I think Vegeta was with him.”



“Vegeta?” Piccolo barked.



Goku nodded and closed his eyes. Overwhelming waves of worry and fear stabbed at the saiyajin’s gut and he could not shake the uneasy feeling of dread that crept into his bones. He hadn’t actually sensed Vegeta’s power, but for some reason, an instinctual scream in the back of his mind told him the prince was in trouble. Perhaps it was a side-effect of their battles against Frieza and the strange visions he had about the tortured Elite after the warrior had died, but Goku was beginning to believe he had a unique mental connection with the prince of all saiyajins.



“But Yamcha’s energy faded as soon as it surged,” Goku stated more to himself than anyone else. “I want to say he was somewhere around here.”



The assumption was answered as a sharp cry resonated throughout the trees below. Piccolo and Goku became blurs as they moved without hesitation, leaving Gohan clinging to a tree branch in shock. Goku eyed a large downhill drop in the middle of the small forest. At the top of the jagged rocks and protruding ground, Krillin’s bald head peered over the edge of the steep plummet, as if he didn’t dare move to the base of the small Cliffside.



“Krillin!” Gohan cried as he suddenly emerged from the leafy canopy of the trees.



As Goku and Piccolo neared, they followed the monk’s line of vision and froze, a wave of vertigo passing through them as they could only stare at the sight below. Hovering about 30 meters from the ground, the warriors found it hard to breathe as absolute shock and disbelief overtook them.



Goku reacted first, racing down to the ground as fast as he could. One knee hit the cold dirt, cracking the earth and creating a small earthquake as he stumbled toward the motionless saiyajin prince.



“Vegeta!” Goku yelled as he reached the shirtless and battered warrior. “My God, Vegeta.”



“Goku!”



Tien suddenly appeared in the air and landed next to the orange-clad savior of earth. He circled around to get a better view of the situation and gasped at the sight. All three eyes were wide with outright shock as he gazed at the beaten, pale body staining the fall ground with copious amounts of dark maroon blood. The hulking human found it hard to move as he continued to stare at the unresponsive saiyajin prince. Tien hated Vegeta and despised the little warrior for all the evil he had done, but the gory, torn creature on the ground at his feet was not the fighter he remembered. This was not the crazed, monkey-tailed maniac that had ordered his man, Nappa to kill him, Yamcha, Chaotzu, and Piccolo. Viewing the corpse that lay silently broken on this cold fall day disgusted and unnerved Tien greatly.



Goku reached out and grabbed one of Vegeta’s gloveless hands. It was ice cold. Calling his name again, Goku shook the limp arm of one of the last saiyajins. When he received no response, Goku leaned closer and grabbed Vegeta by the chin. His large hands were trembling terribly.



“Come on, Vegeta,” Goku hissed. “You just got wished back. Don’t die on us again.”



How could this have happened? Goku thought back to the purple-haired boy from the future. Vegeta couldn’t have died. How had Trunks been born? Why would he never have mentioned this when he came to give Goku his heart medicine?



“It doesn’t make sense,” Goku whispered as his dark eyes slid to Vegeta’s sleeping face. His stomach lurched at the deep bruises that marred his once tan skin and the streams of blood that covered his chin and cheeks. Timidly, Goku pressed two fingers against the side of Vegeta’s throat and held his breath. The others circled around him and bit their lips as they watched the scene unfold. Goku remained still for several seconds before lurching forward and slapping Vegeta’s right cheek harshly.  



“Wake up! VEGETA!” Goku hollered as anger exploded deep inside of his soul. He could hear the others grunt in surprise at his sudden anger, but they made no attempt to stop him. Grabbing Vegeta’s face, Goku turned the prince’s head to the opposite side to give his other icy cheek a good slap. With a strangled gasp, the large saiyajin fell backwards onto his butt, his fingers flying to his mouth as he stared at the deep, gory streak of flesh and skull missing from the side of the beaten fighter’s head.



“Oh my God!” Krillin moaned.



Piccolo’s cold eyes stared into the bleeding wound and he growled low in his throat. Anger slowly began to build within him and he turned his face away.



“That is a wound not made from energy,” the great namek boomed. Several eyes stared at him curiously. Goku, however, remained seated next to the prince, a hand resting on his still chest. “It appears that Vegeta was shot by a primitive human weapon.”



“A gun,” Krillin rasped.



Goku shook his head and remained silent as cold anger and pity swept through him. Reaching out, the third-class gently pushed Vegeta’s head to the left where it had been when they first arrived. He stood shakily and ran an unsteady hand across his mouth, his eyes unable to tear away from the bloodied mess.



“What happened here?”



He was dimly aware that his son was now hiding behind Piccolo’s cape. Good. The poor child had seen enough brutal violence to last a lifetime. He did not need to witness mindless slaughter such as this, especially when it involved someone he knew and cared for.



“Oh…what in the hell?” Krillin suddenly shouted.



The bald little man raced from the scene, his short legs carrying him several feet away. Dull eyes watched him disappear behind a bush, but the shocked cry that burst from his mouth drew their attention away from Vegeta momentarily.



“S-S-Skip!” Krillin moaned. Staggering backwards with a trembling hand to his lips, the earthling was attempting not to gag.



“What is it, Krillin?” Goku asked tiredly.



“One of Bulma’s workers. One of Yamcha’s good friends. He-he-“



The human spun around and stumbled, before leaning over a rock and vomiting into the nearby bushes. Goku and Piccolo shot each other a cautious look and crept forward. Gliding past a shivering, gagging Krillin, the two warriors peered around the shrubbery and remained completely silent as they gazed at the dead man on the forest floor. He was a small mousy thing with thick, cracked glasses that lay askew on his face. His eyes were wide and staring; his eyebrows tilting upward in agony and pure grief. Blood caked his chin and mouth as flies buzzed around the gaping hole where his throat had once been. Brain matter splattered its way across the stony ground and the man’s body lay spread-eagle and broken.



Gohan tried to peek out from under Piccolo’s cape, but the namek gently pushed him back into hiding. The boy was strong, but it was not necessary for him to see such things. This had not been a battle. Something went terribly wrong and everything about the situation told the warriors that perhaps Vegeta was not the one to blame for once.



Goku suddenly turned his back on the dead man and strode back to Vegeta. Krillin wiped his mouth and staggered after his long-time friend, and Piccolo turned and watched the visibly distraught warrior, curious as to what his next move would be.



“Krillin. Tien. You guys need to go get Yamcha,” Goku ordered, his voice steady, yet full of uncontrolled anger.



“We can’t sense him, Goku,” Tien replied quietly



“He can’t be far!” The third-class yelled. “We can’t let anything happen to him. We can’t allow what happened to Vegeta to...to-“



“We’re on it, Goku,” Krillin said quickly.



The short warrior cast Tien a sharp look and gestured with his head to get moving. Krillin knew that it was not the best time to mess around with Goku. His childhood friend had started changing since his battle on Namek, and it was a bit disturbing for Krillin to handle. The transformation to super-saiyajin had changed Goku and the short monk was still trying to figure out how to avoid pushing the wrong buttons. Obviously his own death had sparked Goku’s transformation into super-saiyajin. With such awful and violent deaths at hand right now, Krillin was unsure how the earth saiyajin would handle himself. It was best to follow orders and stay out of his way.



Besides, they truly did need to find Yamcha. The way his friend’s power had exploded like that was terrifying. Sitting at Master Roshi’s house watching women’s yoga, the bald warrior practically felt electrocuted as Yamcha’s rage burst in his senses. Master Roshi had been so engrossed in the TV that he did not notice a thing. Krillin, however, was on his feet and racing from the living room as fast as he could. Yamcha’s power never felt like that. Even after King Kai’s training, Krillin still surpassed his good friend, but the hateful, murderous rage emanating from Yamcha was beyond shocking and it seemed that for those few moments he had grown stronger than both he and Tien!  



Tien and Krillin took to the air and left Goku to deal with Vegeta. With a dreary sigh, the small bald warrior tried to block out the image of Goku feeling for the saiyajin prince’s pulse…and his angry reaction when he felt nothing. They had only known Vegeta a short time, but it appeared that the dark fighter held nothing but terrible luck.



Goku knelt next to the lifeless prince and placed his shaky hands upon Vegeta’s icy face. Closing his eyes, the powerful warrior opened all his senses and meditated, allowing his self-conscious to seep into the empty shell that lay at his knees. Blocking out the world around him, Goku focused only on Vegeta, his mind and soul searching for any trace of life within the broken body. He fought back the panic and anger when he felt nothing. He took in deeper, calmer breaths as he concentrated with all his might to grab onto some form of thought or essence of energy trapped within the prince. For the longest time the third-class saiyajin sat upon the forest floor and connected himself to the body of his rival. Goku refused to accept that Vegeta was dead.



 



Hal was usually extremely focused. There were constantly plots and plans brewing within his twisted mind, but as he staggered behind the hulking frame of Hikaru, his brain could only replay the last hour of what had happened. He had shot the saiyajin. He saw the blood spray and observed the black-haired alien’s body instantly go limp.



But he had jerked away. Hal’s blue eyes squinted into the cracks of light that broke through the orange and red leaves above. Even as disoriented and close to death as Vegeta had been, he was the one who threw himself backwards off the steep, rocky plummet. Was the saiyajin warrior truly that powerful and intelligent? Even with his charred organs and multiple deadly injuries and complete lack of ‘ki,’ had he been able to pinpoint the movement of Hal’s finger on the gun—had he been able to see the bullet?



Hal gazed at Yamcha’s swaying head as Hikaru lurched forward with the muscular fighter slung over his shoulder. Both of the crazed men were exhausted. They were quite injured from the collapsing of Skip’s forest house and as soon as Yamcha was fully unconscious, they decided it was best to run back to the dilapidated home before the other fighters of Earth caught on. But their stamina had left them and they limped through the woods, anxious to get to Hikaru’s car.



However, paranoia and clenching fear kept eating at Hal’s stomach. He saw the blood and pieces of bone fly from the side of Vegeta’s head. He had to be dead. The saiyajin tried to dodge, but he was still struck in the skull by bullet! Though even if Vegeta was dead, he knew the other fighters Skip had always mentioned would be able to track them down. They were close to Yamcha--this Goku and Krillin, and from how it sounded, extremely powerful, too. Plus, Skip had been the one in charge of creating the poison that trapped the energy these fighters used to fly and shoot lasers with. Hikaru held the last remaining solution. They would be unable to subdue Yamcha for long.



“Fuck, we’re finally here,” Hikaru panted.



Hal broke into a sprint as soon as he laid on eyes on his partner-in-crime’s red clunker. Even with his woozy head and aching muscles, the tall, lanky man knew they had to move quickly. Skip and Rich were dead, Yamcha had blown up the house, and he let his power explode wildly when Vegeta was killed. The police were the least of their worries. If everything Skip had ever said about these outrageous Earth warriors was true, they probably already knew that something was wrong. They could have even been nearby at that very moment.



Hikaru jogged up behind him, his grunting voice wheezing. The beast of a man laid Yamcha on the cold dirt and opened the driver’s side door. Pulling down a visor, the black-haired General grabbed his keys with beefy fingers and returned to the side of the car. His beady eyes widened and he froze where he stood.



“What the fuck are you doing?!” The insane man hollered.



Hal stood stiffly, his right arm extended before him as he aimed the cursed gun at Yamcha’s motionless body.



“We need to get rid of him, Hikaru. He’ll have his energy back soon and we won’t have enough of Skip’s poison to keep him restrained.”



Hikaru lurched forward and Hal immediately trained the gun on the hulking man. Cool, blue eyes glared into furious black irises and the two remained frozen as the birds chirped in the fall trees.



“You cowardly bastard,” Hikaru snarled. “This pathetic human deserves punishment, not a quick death in his sleep. This is war, boy! He aided the saiyajin and helped kill Rich and Skip!”



“This is no battle, you stupid prick!” Hal shrieked, his usually calm demeanor shattering as panic overtook him. “I don’t even know if Vegeta is dead for sure. Yamcha’s psycho-strong friends are going to find us and Yamcha is going to tell them everything we did! I want to fuck this pretty little ass as much as you do,” Hal explained as he returned the aim of his gun back to the unconscious warrior on the ground, “but he needs to die here and now or else we’re goners.”



“I’ve seen my fair share of war and death,” Hikaru said. “That saiyajin is dead. I don’t think he was as powerful as Skip made him out to be. Trust me. That pussy is dead from one bullet in the skull.”



“If he wasn’t so powerful, how did he knock you out so many times?” Hal muttered.



“WHAT?!”



“Look, are you going to let me do this?”



Hikaru’s curved eyes narrowed more and he growled impatiently. Glowering down at the man who lay facedown in the dirt, the giant commander kicked dirt on Yamcha’s back and began to pace. The violent soldier had so been looking forward to torturing the ally of Vegeta, but he had to admit that Hal was right. They couldn’t exactly wander into Capsule Corporation and just ask for the solution that trapped ‘ki.’ He seethed as he felt they had lost the battle. He despised admitting that Yamcha’s friends were far too powerful for them to face. If they wanted to live, they had to leave now and finish off Yamcha for good.



“Bah!” Waving his hand angrily, the older naval commander spun around and ripped open the door to his car. Flopping into the driver’s seat, he crossed his arms and pouted childishly.



Nodding, Hal took aim and closed one eye. He would make sure to hit the target perfectly this time. Gazing at the back of the head full of shiny black hair, Hal licked his lips and tightened his finger.



A crushing blow landed upon his right hand and Hal howled in agony as his fingers crunched together and broke. The gun skittered across the dirty ground and became lost in the pile of wood and glass that had once been a house. Falling onto his side Hal gripped his shattered hand and moaned in pain as his blue eyes squinted upward. Two figures stood above him with identical expressions of cold anger and disgust.



There was a sudden squealing of tires and a cloud of dust and dirt exploded into the air. Hal shrieked as he realized Hikaru was running for it and leaving him there with the two strange warriors who had broken his hand. Scrambling onto his knees, the yellow and green haired man screamed for Hikaru to return, but through the cloud of dirt in the air, Hal could see the red car driving wildly through the trees before swerving over a small hill and disappearing.



“Fuck!”



Stumbling to his feet, Hal ran blindly through the falling dirt away from where the two men had appeared from nowhere. Blinking through blurred eyes, Hal only then realized that he was running directly toward the fallen forest home. Gasping in shock, the lanky human stepped through a glass window and crashed into a pile of wood and plaster. Falling sideways, the disoriented man disappeared into the mess, his body causing the remains of the house to collapse even more. Krillin and Tien merely watched as the gargantuan pile of debris creaked and groaned before lurching inward and falling deeper into the foundation, the force certainly crushing the skinny man that had fallen into it.



Both warriors felt the small power of the man dim even more and then disappear. It was odd and unnerving to both Tien and Krillin that they had simply stood and watched a person die. Being warriors of peace and protectors of the Earth, they had never allowed someone to perish in such a way. But even without knowing this man, they understood that he deserved whatever gruesome fate he received. He had almost fired a bullet into their innocent friend’s head. He had most likely been the one who killed Vegeta, and even though neither warrior liked the saiyajin prince very much, it was obvious that he had been tortured and murdered in cold blood. No, if the tall, thin human was still alive in the broken debris, they were not going to help him. He was trapped and would die alone in pain.



Krillin stared up at Tien and the three-eyed man sighed. Wordlessly, the two turned their backs to the fallen house and knelt next to Yamcha, checking his breathing and pulse. He was alive and his energy, though weak and trapped in one place, felt steady.



“At least one made it out alive,” Krillin said softly.



They stared at their fallen friend, unknowing as to the true pain and grief within Yamcha’s soul. He may have been alive, but when he awoke, he would never be the same. 




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