Chapter 4: To fear death
Ki, his memories told him, the essence of life, and energy flowing thru all creation allowing him to fly at breakneck speeds, yet only now that his mind has settled from the odd shift of circumstances can he truly notice all the changes.
This energy, this power, he can feel it flowing alongside him, how it shifts and turns, thins out, and gathers. Neither of his previous memories could do this, one due to a lack of ki, the other due to an overabundance of it, now that they have met, he can feel it all around him.
It's a sense, a new one, a sixth one some might call it. He thought about it, in the abyss too he had often felt a sixth sense or at least imagined that he did, yet still, for it to feel this different, this special. Feeling it, sensing it, gave him the first word to pin to an emotion, shock.
Sensing this new energy, mixing with the desire welling up from him, the scenes he witnessed earlier, and the unknown variables emerging, made him energetic, ready to pounce.
He could feel it, the rabid dogs barely chained, the postal horses trouncing around their pens, wild abandon brewed within him, he could feel himself stirring whole, his whole being shifting in a direction unknown to him.
'Ack.' Suddenly a memory hit him, from where he does not know, sharp and painful, one he remembers remembering, for this one too he has seen an uncountable number of times.
A childhood one, a little detail, a nugget of remembrance, yet it made him almost tremble, physically so, his mind largely unaffected.
His body almost convulsed, and something deep, instinctual, engraved in his soul, wanted to roar, to beat against the cage, anger, no, stronger, wrath untold, fury unleashed like waves rising and clobbering against the cliff, another word to pin to emotion and pin the emotion to a sensation.
'A day of life is all I have.' It was a statement, cold and calculated, yet just thinking it like that, nor remembering, but thinking it thru made the wrath stir even more greatly.
Beneath his skin in crawled, his body it welled forth to move, were it not for Nappa's rigidness he surely would have done something rash, purely on instinct.
'This is not my anger,' He thought, and easy to distinguish problem when one knows his broken mind, as well as that of the other one, as he does. 'it is the anger of the memories.' It is the memories, the existence of Nappa as an individual, that rebelled.
Nappa is dead, his memories scrapped for parts and bolted onto his own, yet by that virtue alone, he has now become Nappa, a version of him at least, his inheritor, and as such of course he inherited his rage, the rage of death and betrayal which he saw as his end.
He accepts his end, his death which looms oh so close. Being dead for so long, experiencing death in the first place, and going insane, he feels nothing when confronted with humanity's greatest fear.
Yet the memories, Nappa before the two became one, he obsessed over it, and even more so the wrath was directed not at the fact that he died, but how he died.
As a warrior death on the battlefield was expected, welcomed, yet to die of betrayal, by one he served so loyally, if begrudgingly? That is what fueled the wrath more than anything.
"There they are, looks like they have been waiting for us." His head turned, brought out of his musings, snapping and snarling almost from the rage, yet the mind prevailed, keeping his face expressionless.
The flight began to slow to a hover, his body trailing behind the princes without so much as a thought about its impending ending, it only made the anger more impudent.
The body, a random thought struck him strangely, is the greatest proof of Nappa's existence. Muscles made to shear steel, bones sturdy enough to withstand bombs, the scars that littered all over it, it is all proof.
And over it all, the confidence, the pride of the Saiyans, of their battle power, engrained so deeply within him, to such an extent that even in "death", even in the face of certain doom, the body believes itself to be invincible, it is proof, proof that Nappa existed, still exists in another form.
Once again, however, he could not be left alone with his thoughts to examine his mind, almost like a child with a new toy he felt as another distraction came. A whirling, buzzing sound, like a fly making circles around one's head, greeted his ears.
It was sharp, painful even yet not in a truly charming way, it reminded him of nights spent in bed, where even with earphones on one could still hear the mosquito buzzing, an annoyance which would lead to no sleep even if it was infinitely small compared to him.
" -if I'm a housefly or not!" Someone must have heard his thoughts, a not unlikely occurrence considering which reality he has found himself in.
A slight shock came up his spine as he realized he was standing on solid ground once more. Again, his body followed while his mind was on its own, not that it mattered, death will embrace him before long once more, yet it only stoked the anger further, and by now even he felt something aking to anger, smaller in stature naturally, in him.
His gaze lifted, his head having been lowered the whole time, showing everyone his shaved head instead of his face.
His eyes first landed on the tall and lanky green figure standing proud, battle-ready too, the Namekian, Piccolo is his name, although rather misleading considering that he is even taller than Nappa
It ought to surprise him, he pondered, the sight of an alien, yet it does not, a part of the scenery it is now, the same as the trees and the grass.
Next to him stand two small boys, one with a head full of hair the other bald. The bald one with dots on his forehead must be the child-man Krillin, the other is an unknown, Gohan maybe? He does not know, his memories are incomplete, he never fully watched Dragon Ball.
'What is it?' The sound, the sound of the fly was getting closer. Closer, so close he could now feel it picking up the dust around him, his body whipped by the wind, irritation, and indignation began to set in, by now reminded of the emotions enough to recognize them dimly.
Unbothered by all the heads following his movement he turned his head, almost his whole body too, towards the sound.
Metal flies they are, blades rotated fast, slicing the air apart with their every move, antiquated cameras pointing out of them, flashes going off every so often.
Suddenly the desire welled up again, stronger, and the wrath too aided it, all too eager for release. They reminded him of moments prior, the destruction caused on such a massive scale to level a town, bower beyond comprehension, it made him burn with wanton yearning.
Curiosity is what spurred him most, however. The curiosity to explore, what does this desire mean? What exactly does he desire? And more so than any of the others, what if he feeds this desire?
He lifted his arm, palm outstretched and pointing towards the many flying crafts above him. Cameras whizzed and flashed, narrowing and widening sporadically as they zoomed in his direction, unknown to them that this would be the last film they would ever catch.
He felt it, the energy within him. Strong and abundant, it flowed, steadily and with power, he served as its conduit and its control, it was there to grant his wish, and grant it will.
A blast, a flash of power, and form shot out. The clouds cleared, the sky crafts were obliterated, reduced to less than scrap, all of them were gone, done so by his sheer power and whim, smoke all that remained as evidence of existence.
"A little overboard for just that Nappa," The prince called out, yet his voice made no indication of displeasure, more akin to disinterest than anything.
However, Nappa made no reaction to that comment, almost not bearing it at all, he just stared, his eyes slightly widened, yet a tug was at his lips, he stared at the blank sky which was before occupied by half a dozen vehicles.
'This, this, whatever this is. Yes, more.' His thoughts were jumbled, for the first time in however many eons, he was left at a loss for thought.
The wrath is not appeased, he could feel it want more, such as the desire too, satiated not, only growing larger. He does not know what he did to feed them, is it the show of power? The obliteration of another? The affirmance of superiority? He does not know, but he does know that he wants to feed them more, for that one moment, that spike of whiteness as he encompassed the metal crafts, it is the first time he has felt something wholly good in time unmentionable.
"M-monster," Krillin murmured out, barely audible it was, yet he felt no repulsion at the title, no, it only fed the desire, even more, it grew once again.
But as quickly as the burning want for more pleasure gained strength it lost it too, the mind quickly clamping down on the rampant craving, eons of nothingness cannot be overcome by seconds of emotion.
"It would seem," Words spoken broke him out of his state too, mind helped along by outside distractions. "that you have no intention of giving us the Dragon Balls," The prince stated, as a matter of fact, the implied threat of destruction evident to all.
'Something happened, words were exchanged.' Again, it would seem that time passed differently. The seconds it took him to think, almost minutes have passed here, something is off, although he could not discern it completely.
The three of them, in unison, tensed their bodies, muscles at the ready, the response was clear and pragmatic, even words are sometimes unclear, such a response gives only one indication as to what the answer may be, it is more straightforward than ever shouting the words.
"Nappa, throw away your scouter, they can change their battle power in accordance to the fight." A clank and a slight thud followed, then another, the blue finally lifted from one of his eyes, yet Nappa's head turned and observed all the harder for that.
The tension between them, or rather from the opposite group of three, was radiating, like waves, like heat, yet the prince seemed disinterested, and Nappa unconcerned.
"I know, why don't we check their battle power for ourselves, Nappa? There are still six saybamen left, right?" No quippy remarks, no sneers of arrogance, no blasting of rage, no, Nappa just calmly, almost robotically reached for his pocket.
Unusually disturbing, the prince noted, uncanny valley even.
From there he turned out a bottle, made of some see-thru clear material, in which six green pill-like seeds floated in a thick, viscous, honey-like green liquid.
The confusion of the other party was visible, their faces scowled in an expression of doubt, yet the tension and battle readiness only increased, it served for nothing, of course, the outcome, the result, it was all already decided from the start.
Nappa bent down, his head occupied by thoughts and observations once more. Jabbing his fingers downwards, creating a hole deep as his finger is long each time, then placing a pill inside, before covering it with dirt, finally splotching some of that green liquid onto each one of the spots which the seeds inhabit.
The trio gulped, at least two of them did, the third only stared all the harder. It perplexed Nappa slightly as he thought about it. Why haven't they attacked us? They are aware of the fact that they are mere cannon fodder, a diversion until their monkey arrives.
Why allow us to carry on? Why allow us to execute our plans and ideas to the fullest without so much as a protest? Pride? Some sort of unspoken rule? The fear of them counterattacking? It makes no sense because they will fight regardless, the only question is how torn up will either party be.
His musings were accompanied by grunts and squeals, the cracking and breaking of dry flakes of earth, dust rising ever so slightly too.
Ugliness condensed arose from the earth if his beauty standards still hold up. Green, all equal in height and size, the green saibamen gave jeers of laughter as they emerged.
Wrinkled heads with a brain like appearance, a slit in the middle of the head, barely reaching a meter and a half, the creatures have chitinous scale-like material all-around their bodies, on the torso especially so, with three bone-white claws extending from each hand and foot, fully red-eyes to boot too, a bastard child of a gremlin and a goblin is what the creatures are.
Once more, confronted by alien life and creation of such in a manner impossible to science left no mark on him, he could not find it in himself to care, having seen these creatures hundreds of times already, while his mind had created greater and worse things in the abyss then these small creatures.
Their birth, a curse of life one might call it, left the trio in shock, which they were broken out of quickly as the saibamem screamed out, announcing their wretched existence on this vile world.
Acrobatics, showmanship followed before either group could decide how to react. With them zipping around, jumping and bouncing off stones, smashing them in the process, Nappa's eyes could easily follow them, and he must admit, he found himself rather unimpressed by them.
Whether because of Nappa's memories or his absence of anything human-like, he does not know, yet for a fact, even though he should care, as a human he should be astonished at such impossible feats being performed right in front of him, he is not.
Finally, a minute later, they all stopped, convening around each other in a circle of green as they stared down the other group, outmatching them two to one in sheer numbers, silent jeering smiles on their faces.
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P. S. - The title of the previous chapter is a reference to (a quote from), Machiavelli's famous book, The Prince, in which he states: When one approaches a prince with a gift one gives the prince the thing he values most. Thus explaining why the book exists in the first place. It's again a slight foreshadowing on my part, although the meaning behind this one will be revealed much sooner than the other one.
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