Golden Elite

Finally...


Don’t own DBZ blah blah blah, fuck’n, blah…


Summary: The Golden Elite is a prosperous organization that fulfills everyone’s needs and desires. From new prototypes of ship-crafts to assassination, if you want it Golden Elite will provide it, for the right price of course. However things are going to heat up when their archrival, Black Anarchy, finally finds the means to bring The Golden Elite to their knees…many pairing, but mainly Trunks/OC.

He lifted his sword high and brought it down swiftly upon the man’s chest. A piercing scream escaped the man’s lips as he fall over face first. The others looked on trying to anticipate the assassin’s next move. Their hands gripped their weapons eager to get the slaughtering over with. The panic that radiated off of them was choking. But there was no time to rest. Three more of his enemies approached fast with blind fury to see one of their own defeated. Their war cries echoed throughout the sleeping forest. The stale night air was thick with blood and carnage.

The assassin studied their disoriented movements and carelessness. They didn’t believe the young warrior to be so experience and flawless in his technique. But it was a mistake they would take to their grave. Bring his sword upright he quickly disposed of the three, zigzagging through them as he slit their throats. He clenched his sword with both hands baring histh. th. The last five couldn’t believe his skill, their face were full of shock. He had already killed ten and was unwounded. Blood oozed through his fingers, drenching his sword and his clothing.

His eyes bounced everywhere, seizing the rest of the pathetic bunch up. He smelt their fear, heard their pounding hearts, felt their despair. They knew only one would walk out the forest alive. Sad to say it wasn’t any of them. He snorted as he seen retreat embedded in their eyes. But, they kns wes well as him there was no retreat.

Wielding his sword, he attacked a heavyset man sneaking up on his right with precision. Agonizingly slow he curved the man’s stomach open. He watched as the man’s intestines spilled out onto the snow-covered forest, steaming as they hit the ground. Moving with lighting speed he came upon his next victims. Their expionsions had death written all over them. Sweat dripped from their brows, as their chest heaved heavily. He could tell they had already given up. Though, soon he would end their misery.

Swiftly his sword pierced two in the throat, and then severed one’s head. There was only two to go. As he got up from his crouching position, he met scared green eyes. It was a pity, the boy was younger then himself. But, the boy was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Growling he approached, n tak taking his eyes of the young frighten figure. Who stood trembling before him? Abruptly, the boy dropped his sword and ran for his life. Only to ran into the only other man left and be stabbed in the heart. The boy’s body went limp crumbling to the ground.

The man yanked his sword from the dead body and righted himself. They stared at each with killing intensity. The man looked to be about twenty-five, with long shaggy brown hair and faded brown eyes. The assassin didn’t care to examine the man further, for he was a dead man walking. Besides, assassins knew no feeling. Cared for no one.

“So, they went all out this time,” he spoke. His voice was rough and thick. “They actually had the Dark Judge send the Sandman himself. Tell me, how does an expert like yourself end up with a child’s play assignment such as this?”

“…”

“I see,had had to be a favor,” the man spat getting ready for the fight. Standing up straight the assassin shook his head. He thought this at least would be some fun. It was all too easy. From the man’s lips a war cry rung out as he charged, holding his sword high over his head. Placing his right hand out palm open, the assassin gathered his energy. Soon a blue ball of light engulfed his hand. An evil smirk played on his lips. The man stopped suddenly upon seeing the eerie glow in toungounger man’s hands. Without a second to waste the assassin let the energy ball fly into the air. It collided with its unsuspecting prey, disintegrating him instantly.

“Stupid fuck,” the assassin finally spoke. The forest was silent once again as he disappeared into the night.

~~~~~~~………..


He walked down the dark hallway trying to compose himself. But, his whole posture reeked of his discontent. Wrapping his tail around his waist firmly, he shook his head. He wondered why his father sent him to do such a bullshit assignment. He could have sent the lesser assassins to do it. Growling he stopped at a security door and roughly punched in his access code. The doors slide open silently as he passed through. Walking down yet another dark hall, he tried to take deep breaths to sooth himself. He didn’t work his ass off to be working on such crappy assignments. He growled again in frustration. No matter how much he wanted to do something more challenging, it was up to the heads of operation to assign it to him. That meant the Dark Judge-his father-and Cold Fire was the only ones to do it.

He stopped at the big ebony double doors down the hall. He sighed as he looked over the marvelous inscriptions that decorated it. They were an ancient and an old language long since forgotten. But, he knew every word that graced the oak doors in its brilliances. As he step the last two feet, they swung open, reacting to his aura a lone. The room that lay before him was a sight to behold.

To his left on the level below, thousands of monitors were implanted into the wall. From security surveillance to radars it stood up on a platform in a half circular like sphere, about 40 feet in length and 20 feet in height. About ten feet away from that was a string of top technology computers that operated the monitors in front. There were about twenty rows with 40 computers in each. He looked down from the top level to see the delta crew scrambling around like ants. To his right was the lab area with its bright lights, white walls, and people clad in white coats.

As usually the place was a mess as the scientist and engineers played around with there toys. The mega team was always the messiest. Out in front of him were the mazes of offices, known as the forms crew. The name said it all. They were the people that handled processing all the paper work. The people scurrying around made way for the advisedly pissed off figure. Everybody knew him at have a temper that raveled both his parents combined. Weaving his way down the never-ending corridors, finally he reached his designation. Throwing open the doors he slammed them behind him. But, was surprised to see a meeting going on.

“Did I interrupt anything?” he grunted folding his arms over his chest. The Dark Judge himself smirked at his son knowingly. Of course his was pissed off about the last assignment that was given to him. It was nothing but child’s play.

“Of course not, Trunks. I was just briefing them on their latest mission. Take a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Vegiita said pointing to an empty seat off to the corner. Trunks obediently took the seat. His father never asked, he commanded. Although his father looked calm, Trunks knew any further interruptions would have consequences.

He leaned back in his chair and studied Vegiita as he continued. His thick jet-black hair stood defiantly upright like fl. He. He wore black riding boot that were covered by black boot cut leather pants. His tight red muscle shirt clung to his upper body like second skin. The black ankle length cape he was so fond of, hung loosely around his shoulder. Vegiita’s features were hard and serious as he talked to some of the forms crew. Trunks sighed wishing they would hurry up and finish.

“What if we can’t get to the site on time?” a feminine voice asked. She was a red head about thirty years old. Her long hair framed her oval face and brought out her green eye. She was nervous as she fidgets under Vegiita’s hard stare.

“That is unacceptable,” Vegiita answered a bit annoyed, his tail swaying behind him. “We will have some of the best agents working with us. You will not have this firm looking like fools.”

“Yes, Dark Judge,” she replied down casting her eyes to the table. Trunks rolled his eyes grunting softly, catching the attention of his father. Vegiita looked him over. From his shoulder length lavender hair to his sunken position in the seat, he could see Trunks was still angry. Another smirked formed his lips.

“Anything,” he continued turning back to the small group. “And I mean anything happens differently from what I command…ya’ll will be the first to feel my foot up your asses. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

The group dispersed quickly upon hearing the slight anger in his tone. Vegiita walked to the far right wall. Pressing a button on a control panel, the wall lifted up. It reveals the surveillance monitors for the building with servile more blinking buttons. Pushing a blue button another conference room popped n thn the hugest screen. The warm smiling face of Cold Fire greeted them. His wild hair sprouted everywhere. He wore a loose white t-shirt and blue genes. His chocolate eyes sparkled with glee. Trunks wondered why the hell was he so happy. Though, Cold Fire didn’t really need a reason.

“Kakarott, get your ass down here. Its time,” Vegiita demanded. Trunks hiked an eyebrcuricuriosity jumping around in his blue eyes. His father turned around and suddenly run into Kakarott, who just appeared out of thin air. Vegiita looked up at the taller Saiyajin and snorted. “One of these days you will have to teach me how you do that.”

“Whatever,” Kakarott said sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. “So where is Bulma and Chichi? Shn’t n’t they be here for this?”

“They would be,” Vegiita snapped as he approached his son. He wrapped his tail around his waist. “But they’re with your brat on a mission, remember?”

Trunks tail twitched with anticipation. He wanted to know what they were talking about. Though he still had a bone to pick with his father. Standing up Trunks narrowed his eyes, scowling at Vegiita and Kakarott.

“What is it boy?” Vegiita said irritably at Trunks stubborn stare.

“What the hell was the point sending me on some fluke assignment?” he insolently growled. His tail uncoiled from his waist and thrush violently behind him. “You could have sent Krillin or Tien instead of me.”

“I would advise you to calm yolf,”lf,” Vegiita warned, his tone low and demanding as usually. “Besides, that was the only way to get you to leave.”

Trunks was at a lost of words, he looked questioningly at Kakarott, who averted his eyes to Vegiita. His father abrupturneurned away. He walked over to the cherry-nut desks at the head of the room. Trunks and Kakarott were soon to follow. Pulling out a draw, Vegiita grabbed thi thin file that was inside. He then looked up at Trunks with a smirk. Vegiita knew his son would be pleased with his next mission. He and Kakarott spent days trying to find the perfected one that suited Trunks. They could tell he was getting restless and bored with easy missions. He dropped the file down in front of Trunks, who eyed it suspiciously.

“It wont bit, boy,” Vegiita said calmly. “Read it.” Trunks did just that. Soon, his eyes widen in shock. It was the assignment that he had been waiting for. He quickly ran over the report and the details of the mission.

“The Council gotten word that a firm was trying to compete with us,” Vegiita explained coolly. “The firm name is Code Red. It is run by a man named Kibito.”

“But, the Council,” Kakarott picked up from behind Trunks. “Believe that another man by the name of Kaioshin is the one that is really running the show.”

“shinshin?” Trunks asked finally looking up from the file. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He was an intergalactic bounty hunter a few years back,” Vegiita stated. “Very good at what he did. So now he th he he can start an assassins organization.”

“The Council is worried. Kaioshin has a lot of connection with high people. He might get a little a head of himself, if you know what we mean,” Kakarott replied matter-of-factly.

“So, in other word, The Council want to stop the potential competition,” Trunks said with an evil smirk.

“Permanently,” Vegiita retorted with a smirk of his own. “Although, they would like to find out his contacts before hand. They want to make sure none of our guys had anything to do with it.”

“Heads will roll if the rumors are true,” Kakarott growl suddenly. He then placed a hand on Trunks shoulder. Trunks turned and looked up at Kakarott’s serious features. “Now, are you sure you can handle this?”

“Of course he can,” Vegiita said before Trunks could answer. “He is my son after all.”



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writer’s note: reviews are not that important to me, but make sure you rate my story