From the first day of my exsistence, I've been taught that the human race is my target. My toy. Each weakling can be played with, like cat and mouse, and that was my source of enjoyment.
So many opposed me. Forcing me to listen to their messages of truth and hope. Of how I was a monster, preying on the innocent. Preying? No...humans weren't prey. Of the numerous fighters, one caught my eye. So arrogant and full of pride, though he criticized me as his fellow warriors, I took more offense at his words...a stupid emotion...But those emotions prooved false, for he fell...like so many others. They were my favorite toys: Hard to break, but satisfying.
After awhile, my brother 17 and I seemed to have destoyed them all. But that prooved false also.
There were two, two who remained, pestering me. They would turn up every so often, each time angered by a new evil doing of ours. The tall one was the most annoying. His face was scarred, his hair black and short. Strong, noble, and brave. I fought against him many times, and began looking forward to our matches. His style of fighting was impressive, his speeches to me moving. But *was* I moved? No...
His friend, a lavendar haired boy, often accompanied him in the fights. But he was different. His eyes, so soft, yet hard as he stared at me. Was I a moster in those eyes? A horrible being? The first time we fought, I found myself taking it easy on the boy. Mercy?...Was is mercy?
He effected me like no other. His ways of fighting were no different than I had seen before, his words the same. But his insults toward me left scars, weak scars that healed in time, but they had the same effect as the arrogant ones'. Thought I beat him down time after time, laughing at his pittiful attacks, I felt something inside my mind telling me to leave him be. So I did.
Finally, one day, a last fight was enough to rid me of Gohan. I had dealt him a deadly blow to one of his arms in a previous battle, giving me the advantage. He still proved a handful, even though he was short a limb. Always an impressive fight when it came to Gohan. Though the arm cost him more than he was willing to bargain--and he lost his life at my hands.
The lavendar haired boy came to his limp body later that day, tears streaming from those haunting eyes. I saw the tears, heard the anguish in his voice. I hid behind a pile of rubble, spying on the boy. Half of me was cakling darkly, the other half experiencing an emotion I had never felt before. Remorse.
Over the years I battled Trunks several times. Each fight he grew stronger, as did my mercy. The fights became shorter, less brutal. I started pretending to lose interest in our sparrs, and taking off before he could fix me with that stare. But I couldn't stop causing destruction, in hopes that he would turn up.
And he did. He always did.
His style of fighting changed, as did the effect of his words. On the days of which I was annoyed or tired, I would tease him, letting him blast energy waves while I apparated from one spot to the other.
One fight I can remember all too well. After killing a round of humans, I searched impatiently for a sign of him. I didn't have to wait long.
He appeard, looking the same I remembered him, and snapped a few discouraging words at me. We lunged into battle. 17 was in no mood to deal with him, making the boy flee from us. Running around corners and up the stairs. Gasping for breath, he stopped in a narrow hallway.
"Peek-a-boo, I see you..." I taunted, holding up a piece of shattered mirror, his face reflected in it. He took off down the hallways, not looking back.
Why do you run?
After a few more blows, the boy was left panting in the ground in fear and exaustion. I stuck my foot under his chin and tipped it upward so he was looking directly at me.
"Why?" he gasped, wincing in pain, as I looked back, no expression on my face. "Why do you do this?"
I didn't answer. That stare. Those eyes. They were boring into me.
"Why else? It's fun to see you humans writhe in pain," I sneered, and he grimmaced.
"You...you have n-no feelings..."
I do. But they're reserved for you, for only you...
"Innocent ch-children..."
I removed my foot, and his head flopped onto the ground, his body twitching in uncontrollable pain. I won't kill you.
Never...you're not a toy, Trunks...
You're safe with me.
So many opposed me. Forcing me to listen to their messages of truth and hope. Of how I was a monster, preying on the innocent. Preying? No...humans weren't prey. Of the numerous fighters, one caught my eye. So arrogant and full of pride, though he criticized me as his fellow warriors, I took more offense at his words...a stupid emotion...But those emotions prooved false, for he fell...like so many others. They were my favorite toys: Hard to break, but satisfying.
After awhile, my brother 17 and I seemed to have destoyed them all. But that prooved false also.
There were two, two who remained, pestering me. They would turn up every so often, each time angered by a new evil doing of ours. The tall one was the most annoying. His face was scarred, his hair black and short. Strong, noble, and brave. I fought against him many times, and began looking forward to our matches. His style of fighting was impressive, his speeches to me moving. But *was* I moved? No...
His friend, a lavendar haired boy, often accompanied him in the fights. But he was different. His eyes, so soft, yet hard as he stared at me. Was I a moster in those eyes? A horrible being? The first time we fought, I found myself taking it easy on the boy. Mercy?...Was is mercy?
He effected me like no other. His ways of fighting were no different than I had seen before, his words the same. But his insults toward me left scars, weak scars that healed in time, but they had the same effect as the arrogant ones'. Thought I beat him down time after time, laughing at his pittiful attacks, I felt something inside my mind telling me to leave him be. So I did.
Finally, one day, a last fight was enough to rid me of Gohan. I had dealt him a deadly blow to one of his arms in a previous battle, giving me the advantage. He still proved a handful, even though he was short a limb. Always an impressive fight when it came to Gohan. Though the arm cost him more than he was willing to bargain--and he lost his life at my hands.
The lavendar haired boy came to his limp body later that day, tears streaming from those haunting eyes. I saw the tears, heard the anguish in his voice. I hid behind a pile of rubble, spying on the boy. Half of me was cakling darkly, the other half experiencing an emotion I had never felt before. Remorse.
Over the years I battled Trunks several times. Each fight he grew stronger, as did my mercy. The fights became shorter, less brutal. I started pretending to lose interest in our sparrs, and taking off before he could fix me with that stare. But I couldn't stop causing destruction, in hopes that he would turn up.
And he did. He always did.
His style of fighting changed, as did the effect of his words. On the days of which I was annoyed or tired, I would tease him, letting him blast energy waves while I apparated from one spot to the other.
One fight I can remember all too well. After killing a round of humans, I searched impatiently for a sign of him. I didn't have to wait long.
He appeard, looking the same I remembered him, and snapped a few discouraging words at me. We lunged into battle. 17 was in no mood to deal with him, making the boy flee from us. Running around corners and up the stairs. Gasping for breath, he stopped in a narrow hallway.
"Peek-a-boo, I see you..." I taunted, holding up a piece of shattered mirror, his face reflected in it. He took off down the hallways, not looking back.
Why do you run?
After a few more blows, the boy was left panting in the ground in fear and exaustion. I stuck my foot under his chin and tipped it upward so he was looking directly at me.
"Why?" he gasped, wincing in pain, as I looked back, no expression on my face. "Why do you do this?"
I didn't answer. That stare. Those eyes. They were boring into me.
"Why else? It's fun to see you humans writhe in pain," I sneered, and he grimmaced.
"You...you have n-no feelings..."
I do. But they're reserved for you, for only you...
"Innocent ch-children..."
I removed my foot, and his head flopped onto the ground, his body twitching in uncontrollable pain. I won't kill you.
Never...you're not a toy, Trunks...
You're safe with me.