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Living Evil	By : Vegetaswriter Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1301 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own dbz, or make any money from this

Chapter List
- 1-Living Evil
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Alright, yay! I’m officially back once again… man life sucks, it keeps me away from this an awful lot… maybe I should take it as a sign, well too bad I don’t believe in it. This is a horror fic, only going to be one more chapter and that’s it. It’s for Halloween XD.

Disclaimer- This is defiantly not for those whom are religious, because well, it’s V.W; just leave it at that, gore, violence, etc. The usual for me. So those whom are still going to read this, enjoy :D

Chapter 1

            How does one explain their findings to those whom could never truly understand the darkest part of ones soul without tasting the sensations upon your tongue? Yes indeed - taste sensation, not a typo, not a miscalculation of wording. Taste sensation; electric and sharp, if one must explain such a aspect, then the only words that could hold an ounce of weight for such a description would be a strong mint washed down by an acidic sweet drink on a cold winters day – even then it pales by comparison, a poor substitute.

            Hunger, oh how I hunger, a simple outstretched hand would fill my desires, yet such a fleet is so terribly unattainable, like smoke – he is like smoke, cast in a never yielding shade of grey, moves like liquid in your hand, never to remain. Oh I hunger. Not mine to touch, not mine to hold, not mine to keep; it whispers in my muddled brain like a hail Mary, over and over, not mine to keep. Yet when those dark sinister eyes weigh upon me, I feel mocking hope - perhaps, maybe…

            Blood oozes from his parted plump lips, fire his scenic backdrop, the blacken sky clashing artfully against the alabaster of his skin, making him shine out amongst the gore, his dark eyes trimmed with an eerie electric glow of scarlet, the perfect satanic killer, created by the beautiful mass of envisioned nightmares of thousands of lunatics, and wicked mortals. A child born of sick intentions was he, the pits of Hell weeps once his feet touches the earth - scorching the ground as he walks, the Devil himself quivers as the son of the purest chuckles. Nothing is ever safe from his gaze…

            I’ve had heard of the saying ‘he is sin incarnate’ before countless times, and to use such a whimsical saying to him burns the tongue, such a cliché, to better describe such wickedness is better with details – to look upon him with openness would condemn your very soul, to gaze into his eyes for a lengthy period sealed your fate for eternity; forever locked within the recess of his mind, living in a never-ending torture, to die over and over in millions of different ways, tormented and poked until you go mad and feed his deplorable mind, giving his imagination a new way to torment his new victims.

            He has no allies; neither man nor woman ever could stand behind him, his malevolent aura takes all space. Nothing can stand near the magnificence of his presents, as he nears, the scent of certain death taints your lips, and fear grips you tighter than any orgasm ever could. His touch icy cold, sharp against the skin like a fine honed blade, his breath - the oddest of things, is sweet, like spun sugar, his voice brutal and raspy; a song of darkness.

            He is the most enchanting creature ever to walk on any dimension, on any sort of plain, charming, bewitching, his movements glide, graceful and majestic. His sheer beauty leaves you momentarily forgetful to the fact he could and will destroy everything you are, take the vital part of you for his own, gulping you down greedily, gluttonously. His skin looks like shimmering silk, pale and soft to the touch, his eyes - you can drown in his deep ebony eyes; lose yourself forever in the pools of darkness. His lips looks so welcoming, supple, sweet, those tantalizing lips make you beg for a kiss goodbye before he rips out your throat.

            His features are sharp and angled, as if he was created - crafted by a masterful artisan. His body was no different, sharp, angled, and lithe, with just enough muscle proportion to make him look intimidating, something not to contend with. Yet, the most unique feature of all was his glorious dark hair, distinct, never to mistake him for another, it danced and waved in the humid air like an onyx candle flame, giving him a height he did not have. He was perfection, beautiful perfection, and I hungered and wanted for far too long…

            The mortals have given him so many names, all in which have become descriptions of many different creatures, Vampire, Demon, Succubus, Werewolf, upon many, many more, yet it all came from one source, the son of the purest. The son, the names mortals have attached to him is colourless in comparison to his true name, yet, there is one that he enjoys. It is not Smiling Jack, nor is it Satan - Lucifer only dreams he could inflict such terror as he – no, the name he enjoys is ‘The Blood Red Sandman’, the mere mention of this name keeps children up and shake under the covers of their bed, and the bravest of adults toss and turn in their bed, dreams plagued by red eyes.

            The foolish of mortals ask and beg for him to rise up and smite the ones they hate, cults of delinquent teenage boys and girls, practicing false magic of ‘evil’ spells. They chant the song they sing for the purest.

            Once again, there is pain, and revenge, and blood.

            Thunder in the night, he’ll make you his own.

            Blood Red Sandman coming home again.

            Scream all you want, music to his ears.

            No one is safe from his deadly embrace.

            If only they knew what they ask for, he is not something one can control or manipulate. He walks this realm as he chooses, comes and goes like the wind, leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake. Foolish mortals… I wish I was as ignorant as them, as blissfully unaware of him, never to cross paths with such a disturbingly beautiful creature.

            He had visited earth on many occasions, usually keeping a routine, only to rise every few hundred years to reaffirm the fear and reignite tales of evil, and each time we only watched, never to step within his path, watch, mourn and pray for the souls lost. There was no method to his madness, men, and women of all ages, nothing was ever an exception, saved, damned, or pure mortals, it had made no difference to him, blood was blood, and they all spilled the warmth of their souls on his chilly hands.

            My brothers and sisters wept beside me as we watched, I felt their sorrow, and I prayed for the ones lost, yet, my eyes could never leave his image, finding myself not repulsed by him, instead intrigued in the most immoral of ways, admire him even. I’ve never been so disgusted by my own thoughts.

            Each time he walked the plain of mortals I find myself the first to watch his madness, gazing wantonly at his method of lunacy, and completely disturbed. I detested him, I detested the fact he was ‘evil’ - in which he truly was - yet, the only reason why I detested it because ‘we’ would never ever be. I was not evil, I was not interested in killing only preserving life, allow the mortals to make their own decisions, allow them to life the lives they were given. Mortals, Humans, such a flawed creation… but they deserve to live, no matter what their lifestyle or crime may be. I believed in change, I believe in the soul, I believe in the good of mankind, I believed in the life giving light above. Still, I couldn’t squash this burning desire for the son of the purest – he makes me weep.



            On this day, it was no different, the water ripples as his presence nears, the heart constricts, and the fires burn. The gates seal shut, and the deep pits below wail their terror as he raises once again, the abyss no longer entertaining him, the past victims trapped in his mind no longer present, snuffed out of existence, never to return. Leaving the blackness of ‘nothing’ to step into the light, filled of air and sun – stretching out his toes, one would say. His fingers contorts, blunt nails elongating, sharpening; thirsty, needy they are, and the Blood Red Sandman dips the thirsty claw like nails into his mouth, trailing them over his tongue, promising them the blood it craves - my body trembled.

            His body moves in strange abnormal movements, popping noises echoed in the sky of dusk, contorting, dislocating, and snapping crammed joints to loosen - flexing and stretching until each signal joint had made its significant pop. Not moving for over three hundred and seventy two years would do that. His body lifted in the air, levitating several feet from the earth below, his eyes fixated on the bustling life ahead, his grin widen into a sickening glee, the blood of millions will be spilled on this night – the city calls to him, bypassing his once playground of small towns.

            I prayed to a deaf god, it was pointless, something we all learned, begging our father, our creator to stop this madness - alas he could not… and once we all truly thought about it, he placed our brother Lucifer into Hell, for speaking too freely on matters we had no say. The mortals see our brother now as the ruler of Hell and a terrifying torturer of damned souls. Yet the truth is much harder to swallow. Lucifer is just a simple little pawn, allowed sway in Hell, and given the freedom to go against god, wars so on so forth. We have a time keeping a pawn in line – God cannot do anything to the purest, nor the son of the purest.

            God and the purest have their own realms to ensure and rule; neither pry into their business, none of us understand this - it’s all that much easier ignoring these disturbing facts. The history of Hell and demons lost to us, only knowing they were there before we were created, there long before Lucifer’s fall from grace. How did it all come to be? I’ll never know, as ignorant as the mortals below us…

            The screams and sonic booms of explosions floated in my head; my city, a city I come to love and adore the populace more so than others – yes even we came to favour mortals more then others – tears gathered as the café shop I frequented crumbled down, along with Mr. Grayson, and his granddaughter along with it, smothered in the debris of the old bricks Mr. Grayson placed there by hand on his own. The son of the purest laugh echoed in my brain, chilling like solid ice on bare heated skin, cold and cruel. His depravity of destruction showing, building from building it all collapsed like a house of cards as he stalked through the bustling streets of screams. His need for blood consumption lacking, instead the mosaic of mangled bodies sticking out from the cement and brick made him happy.

            He paused for a moment, letting out a cackle as he heard the mummers of so many innocents huddled together in a gymnasium – in hopes they would be alright – It seems a school play was happening on this ungodly night; I could and would not allow this, I had to do something.

            They sensed it, they seen the determination in my eyes, felt it in my heart, and my brothers and sisters pleaded for me not to go, begging to me, trying everything they could to make me understand – it was pointless, I knew what I was going to face, and I knew I had no chance of survival – My plummet to the earth was fast, I sped down with whatever speed I could manage, my heart hammering in my chest - I know he senses my coming.

            For the first time I breathed in his scent, so foreign, unique, and tangy to the senses. The air is thick with it, kicking off from the ground I barrelled towards it, my wings tucking in, adding to my dizzy speed. The scent of desperation and terror of mortals sour and bitter, no doubt to him it’s intoxicating. My heart skipped a beat or two, the son of the purest, I was going to see him in the flesh, and father forgive me; my desire thicken.

            Its funny you know, to feel desire, when in fact I shouldn’t, none at all. We were created without such things or the equipment that comes with that territory, father blessed that to humans, not us. Yet here I was, hungry and needy for something that I shouldn’t. Was it just his presents that done this, or was it just me?

            His laughter drifts in my ears, and with a final push I sped pass him, halting before the school. His laughter cuts sharply, no doubt surprised of my arrival, as he should be, he hasn’t seen one of us before. I felt that chill return ten fold; I could feel his eyes crawl over the back of my body, through the stiffness I felt I turned. I have faced evil before, slew countless demons bent on over throwing Heaven, I have spoken to the Devil, and never have I felt fear – now I feel it, and it’s a powerful emotion that I have no clue on what to do with such a feeling.

            I’ve seen him countless times through a mirror of water, now there is nothing that separates us but air, and I am near speechless to be this close to him, I can feel him, feel the cold radiating from him, the chilly embrace of death hugs me from this distance. His smile widens and he leans forward looking more intently at me- God forbid- he leers.

My stomach sloshes, melted into nothing but slush, my desire rush through me, and all I wish to do is drop to my knees and beg, for what, I am unsure.

            His legs move forward towards me, and I remain grounded to the earth; he grins now, the kind of grin that shows he knows everything. He only stops a arm length away from me, smoke and fire at his back, his eyes glowing, his mouth opens and I am enthralled. “What do I owe the pleasure of you’re kinds appearance?”

            My back straightened even though all I wish to do is crumple under that seductive voice, so dark, raspy – perfect. “I wish you to leave this city be, allow these people their lives.”

            His head tilts, a slip of brief confusion. “Why? Why these people? I’ve heard no objections over the centuries.” He steps closer, my wings twitched, feeling cornered. His eyes slid over my body once again, his hands reached out and touched the feathers, smoothing the ruffle. His eyes lidded, nearly coming flush against my chest, and I wondered if he had a beating heart. “Are they important to you?”

            I swallowed hard. “No more of this pointless destruction… please.” My eyes blurred as a silent tear fell. I could feel the pain of those whom still breathe in the trapped buildings, wheezing for air, clinging to life.

            He breathes me in, his nose touching my nape ever so lightly, as if it hadn’t. His voice dips into a shadowy whisper. “You haven’t answered my question… angel.” His fingers trailed down the length of my arm, and my want increased with each minimal touch.

            “Yes, they are very important to me… I love this city.” My voice shuddered in tune with his touches, and I hear him sniff me, breathing in my want.

            His grin transformed into a vicious smirk, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Would you do anything to save them?”

            The way he looks at me, I have hope, maybe, just maybe… “Yes… I’ll do anything for them.” He snarls suddenly, disgusted by something, did I say something wrong? Or was my need for him? He slaps me away, sending me crashing against the stone wall. I heard a cry from an unfortunate boy, no older than fourteen years of age. How did he get his hands on someone so quickly?

            The boy pleads for his life, begging evil to allow him to live. I could hear the words I’m too young to die, and Vegeta just laughs at this – Yes Vegeta, that is his name, perfect isn’t it? Ve-ge-ta just rolls off you’re tongue like silk- ‘I’m too young to die’ a foolish notion and we all know this, no one is ever too young. Vegeta brings the trembling youth closer, his claw like nail hooks in the lip ring, slowly toying with the piece of metal, tugging lightly, scaring the boy half to death, he bore his teeth with a wide smile. He coos to the youth, easing the child slightly in his arm. The moment the boy relaxes he leans forward, and lightly touches his cold lips to the top of the boy’s lip, the child became enthralled with the beautiful monster holding him, and to think that might have been the first kiss the boy experienced was a painful thought. His nail once again tugged the looped piercing, his eyes lidded and his lips brushed the boy’s ear and his whisper carried over to me, as if I was the boy hearing every syllable he spoke. “It’s dangerous to have a piercing here you know boy, it could be very problematic if it catches on something.” I flinched, slowly raising, kneeling at the rumble surrounding me. My eyes snapped to attention as I heard the boy struggle and scream, Vegeta slowly pulled the ring forward, and I could hear the skin slowly split. Vegeta watched with horrid fascination as the blood bubbled and poured from the rip he was creating, he kept the struggling youth locked in his embrace, ignoring the trashing, only delighting in his sadistic nature. With a final tug, the boy’s lip spilt in two, the ring settling on Vegeta’s index finger. The boy’s hand slapped against the wound, his eyes wide and locked on the monster’s, Vegeta never removing his gaze dipped his head and licked at the blood over flowing the boy’s hand.

            “Stop this! Stop tormenting the child, you killed him already!” My body trembled, I have witness many gruesome deaths, either by accident or intentional, but to smell, and feel it is on such a far different scale.

            Vegeta’s eyes snapped over to me, his tongue still licking at the blood as a twisted smile formed on his open mouth, his canines gleamed with the youths blood. He moved with the grace I’ve seen over the many years, that cruel smile never leaving his lips. “No, oh no, I haven’t killed him yet.” He said with mock concern and care. He petted the frightened boy’s head as a parent would to comfort their child. His hand slid down over the boy’s chest, and he laid a gentle kiss to his victims forehead, as his hand dug in, snapping bone in its path, the gurgled screams made me look away- there was no point to try and stop him, none whatsoever.

            I heard a thud and I gaze over to him once again, the youth laid against his feet, the collar of his jacket still grasped in the hand of Vegeta, making the boy look so strange, hanging limply against the monster. Once again tears welled in my eyes as I saw the gore covering Vegeta, a heart fisted in his free hand holding it still as he gorged himself in the organ, ripping piece by piece with his canines, swallowing the makeshift dinner. As the heart cools he dropped it to the ground, letting the boy’s collar from his grasp as he begun his stalking towards me.

            Blood oozes from his parted plump lips, fire his scenic backdrop, the blacken sky clashing artfully against the alabaster of his skin, making him shine out amongst the gore, his dark eyes trimmed with an eerie electric glow of scarlet, the perfect satanic killer, created by the beautiful mass of envisioned nightmares of thousands of lunatics, and wicked mortals. A child born of sick intentions was he… he is so astoundingly beautiful, and I wanted him…

            “Are you still willing to do anything for these mortals?” His hands cup my face, his hand freezing my heated cheeks, while his eyes heated my core, burning me with hot desire, and leaving me feeling hallow, ashamed and sick because of my wants.

            “Yes… anything.”
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Living Evil