Post by Deleted on Sept 12, 2015 2:14:11 GMT
It was a fairly standard day on Planet Vegeta. The sky was it’s usual magenta with flecks of light blue clouds drifting by, and dissipating in the dry winds. The chestnut sand beneath said sky was shifting restlessly, similar to the inhabitants of the planet it covered. An occasional breeze would shift the placement of the sand, and cause multiple wisps of dark red dust to fly through the air. The twin yellow suns beat down mercilessly, radiating more heat than usual that day.
Two men walked through the sand, both of equal height, though the man on the left looked much older than his right sided companion. Both men shared equally pitch black hair, though the one on the right’s was much more…styled, whereas the older of the two had a simple buzz cut, and both were wearing traditional Saiyan armor. Both sets were black and white in color scheme and looked almost identical, though the man on the left’s seemed much more worn than the one on the right’s. In addition, both men were equipped with a sword though they were carried on different parts of their person. The older of the two carried his blade on his waist, while the younger man carried his on his back. Their steps left footprints on the sand that were quickly filled by the ever persistent wind. The reason for the two men skipping out on the practicality of flight was “core building” another ridiculous idea formed in the head of the old blade master Courge. His son found it ridiculous, but his father’s overbearing attitude and Callion’s habit of remaining passive coerced the son into follow his father’s order.
“Are you positive that this is necessary, Dad?” said a young man, staring to his right at his father’s face, as he strolled beside him. He walked a confident but humble walk, his voice deep, but lacking in a true man’s gravel.
“It most certainly is, soldier!” said the older of the two, sounding exactly like a drill sergeant, “Walking builds character and toughens up the core! And what’s a Saiyan with a weak core?”
Callion rolled his eyes at the question. He had heard it so many times that he would need to have fallen off of a cliff and hit his head to have forgotten the answer.
“A weak Saiyan,” Callion said with a sigh. All this emphasis on power, and yet I’m almost certain that no matter how strong one becomes, the one will never be the strongest person in existence. Callion didn’t hate his father by any means. He just didn’t care for the old swordsman’s overbearing belief that every Saiyan should be the same. It was moronic and pointless. Callion hated this outing he was on. It made no sense to the young man. It was just an odd demand. A parent asking their child to risk their own life for the parent’s benefit. But that was the situation at hand. Courge was demanding that his son leave on some sort of “strengthening vacation,” and no matter how much stronger Callion was than his father, he was only sixteen years old, and lacked the rebellious drive necessary to disobey his parents.
After another agonizing hour of sweat filled strolling, the two Saiyan men finally reached their destination. A spherical ship sat complacently in the middle of a particularly low patch of the crimson sand. On the right side of the vessel, was a crudely painted symbol of a bloodied fist holding a sword
“Dad, why did you paint a symbol onto this once unblemished vessel?” Callion asked in a bit of an intellectual tone, trying not to hurt his father’s feelings.
“Because son,” the father began to reply in his usual “educational voice”, “my enemies have to know who's coming to slay them. Otherwise they’ll just think it’s some random schmuck, and won’t quake in their boots enough. With this puppy they’ll know,” Courge paused for a moment for dramatic effect, before drawing his blade from its sheath and saying in a comically loud and gravelly voice “SCOURGE THE BLADEMASTER HAS COME TO SLAY THEM!”
Callion stared at his father for a moment before turning his head back toward the ship. Sighing, he began to take a step toward it, when his father’s hand reached out to stop him. “Listen son,” Courge began in his usual gruff voice, though the look on his father’s face surprised Callion. Sadness was set into his expression, with a hint of worry in the old man’s eyes. Fear and sorrow, two emotions Callion had never seen his father exhibit before.
“I want you to know…I’m only doing this because I love you. I know you think it’s a waste of time and energy, but I really think that can be the most powerful Saiyan on all of Vegeta someday. Just...” Courge took a pause and let out a shaky breath as if trying to hold back tears, “just try to come back to your mother and I okay?”
Callion heart began to race. Worry was beginning to envelop him. Why was his father so worried? How dangerous was the planet he was being sent to? Would he actually not come back? All of these questions and more raced through his mind, and were about to be asked before Callion took a good look at his father’s face. The man was on the verge of tears, and though he believed this was what his son needed, he enjoyed it no more than Callion did. Upon realizing this, Callion steeled his nerves, clenched his fists, and began his journey. Walking five paces forward, he reached the ship and upon opening entrance hatch, entered the ship and sat in the vessel. Before closing the door, he would give his father a big smile and thumbs up. Courge looked momentarily shocked at the son’s gesture of joy, before returning the favor with a smile and thumbs up of his own. The door slowly sealed itself shut, thus obscuring Callion’s view of his father. Callion held smile until the last of his father’s own grin was gone. The act of smiling for that long made Callion feel a little bit better, though he certainly wasn’t amused by the amount of space he had left due to his large sword. Reaching toward his back, he would struggle a bit with pulling the blade from its sheath, before successfully completing the task. Staring at the jet black blade, he recalled his father’s explanation of the ingenious blade.
Crafted with Saiyan ingenuity, the blade of the sword itself was double-edged and had a forty one inch blade with an eleven inch hilt, all in all being a fifty two inch long blade in total, but required a Saiyan's raw strength to wield, due to the blade itself being hollow and segmented. Within each segment was a heavy weight which added to the weapon's unique purpose in combat. It struck with increased force, but required an experienced handler due to the increased weight of the weapon itself. The hollow blade segments remained durable, backed by the reinforcement of the heavy metallic bars that lay within each segment. The weapon crushed into foes, the added weight sharply increasing its cutting power. Even if the blades themselves were damaged in some way, the large metallic bars welded to the weapon beneath the bladed segments allowed it to be used as a vicious blunt weapon. A fearsome weapon though it was, Callion only used to battle either large groups of enemies, or an enemy who was also wielding a blade.
Sheathing the blade with a bit of effort, he heard a series of beeps that indicate his compliance in activating the craft’s automatic piloting functions. Raising his head toward the ceiling of the vessel, he pressed a flashing red button, and felt a vibrating thrum as the engine roared to life. The vessel began to hover over the ground a moment before blasting off into the sky at light speed.
Courge followed the vessel with his eyes, a tear sliding down his scarred face.
“Bye son,” he whispered to himself “Stay safe.”
A dust covered Attack Ball landed in the middle of a particularly barren patch of desert on Planet Vegeta. Painted crudely on the side of the vessel, was the half faded image of a fist holding a sword. The hatch to said capsule began to slowly open, and a moment later firmly settled itself into the sandy ground. Exiting from the capsule was a grown man. He was a tall man, being about six feet tall, though he certainly was not the tallest man in the world. His hair was midnight black and spiky at the front, but lower along the back. His skin was very well tanned, and his eyes were the eyes of a man who’d seen many terrifying things, and was grateful that he’d never have to see them again. His expression was stoic, though a smile was tugging at his lips at the thought of seeing his parents again. Powering himself up, he rocketed off of the ground and flew like a jet southward.
Callion was home again.
The landscape quickly shifted beneath him, becoming a blur as he reached his top speed. An aura of white surrounded the young man as he soared at least fifty feet above the ground, taking care not to go too high. After several minutes of flying, he finally came across a small yet comfortable looking house in the middle of nowhere. There were several piles of broken training dummies littering the area, and what looked like a failed attempt at building a shed of some sorts. Callion took a moment to stop and chuckle, recalling the time his father had tried to create his own personal armory. The fond recollection of his father led him to begin reminiscing of his mother who always laughed along with a young Callion whenever his father did something silly. It was a simpler time back then, but now he was finally home and ready to be with his parents again. Descending toward his front door, Callion stared up at the old stone gray house for a moment.
It’s good to be home, Callion thought before gripping the door handle and pushing his way into his house.
Callion was a tad confused to hear the sound of something roll across the floor. It couldn’t have been a ball, Father had taken all of his toys away from him when he was five years old. Opening the door all the way, he would stare into his living quarters, and turn pale white. His blood would run ice cold at the scene before him. Laying on the floor in front of him was the bloody and burned head of his mother. Her skin and hair looked as if they were torched by a powerful flame.
No. No no no. NO!
Steeling himself, he continued to search the rest of his home. For the first time, he noticed the ample amounts of proof that a struggle was had. Furniture was either reduced to a smoking pile of ash or gone entirely. Almost every wall had several holes in them, varying in size and shape. Blood splattered every surface, including the ceiling. As he searched, Callion continuously came across several bloodied body parts that could only belong to either one of his parents. His search eventually ended with the gruesome discovery of his father’s head, pinned to a wall by his own sword, along with a note. Almost vomiting in disgust and shock, Callion steeled himself once again, and moved forward in order to rip the note off of the blade. Tears streaked down his face as his eyes began to scan the scrawl, which to add insult to emotional devastation, was written in what Callion could only assume to be his parent’s blood.
Callion’s hands shook in sorrow for a moment before they began to tremble with more fervor, but the feelings of sadness had passed. What gripped Callion’s Saiyan heart now was a pure and unbridled rage. Crumpling the paper inside his trembling fist, he would toss it to the floor, before a white aura began to envelop him. Enraged beyond belief, he would launch skyward, crashing through the ceiling with little to no regard of injury due to the blinding fury he was experiencing. With enough sense left in him to know the direction toward the nearest canyon, he took off at his maximum speed, all the while emitting an aura of pure anger.
After seething while flying for two whole miles at a rage increased speed, Callion reached his destination. Scanning the gargantuan crack in the ground with his red-tinged vision from fifty feet off of the ground, he spotted a lone figure standing on what appeared to be a sizable patch of solid ground, jutting out of one of the two cliff sides, about twelve feet into the canyon. Said figure was making an unrecognizable gesture toward him. Dashing toward him, his view of the marauder was made much more clear.
It was man in his late thirties, similar to his father, with ash gray skin, and a spiked Mohawk, which was black in coloration. He looked to be about 6’3 in height, though he might’ve been 6’4. His Saiyan armor was a mix of purple and black, though it was very worn, and stained in blood of varying colors. He was a well built man, with a strong jaw, and rippling muscles. His armor bore the mark of a Saiyan Elite on the area over his heart. The man looked like a consummate soldier.
Stopping at an area exactly six feet away from the man, Callion touched down onto the solid earthy ground, and stared at the man before him. His eyes were scanning the man over, analyzing him, reading him like a book, and then simply asked the man who took the only things he cared about away from him a question. One question to the man who destroyed his sense of family, and turned him into the rage fueled beast he had always taken painstaking lengths to avoid becoming. “Who the hell are you?”
The man opposite of him let out a low chuckle. Callion would clench his fists at the sound of the laughter, though he kept quiet. He had to know the reason before he did what he had to.
“You truly are a fool, boy…Just like your father.” Callion’s fists clenched even more so than they were before, but all pain was washed away by the sea of anger pouring out of him. “I am Kassava you impudent scum.” Callion’s features went from enraged to confuse in a matter of seconds.
“I’m not aware of anyone by that name in my recent memory, nor do I care all that much for trying to remember at the moment.” Callion said simply, taking great care not to dash forward and bash the man’s head in. His anger was being mildly abated by his curiosity.
The look on Kassava face was one of a frustrated child who did not get the recognition they deserved.
“You blithering dolt! I’m the father of the boy you bullied and assaulted eleven years ago! How dare you speak to me in that tone!”
Callion still seemed confused. “What are you-” Callion’s eyes would widen as he recalled exactly what the man was talking about. Ten years ago, during his time in the academy, Callion had been classmates with a boy named Pota. The boy was a rude blowhard, not unlike a younger version of his father Courge, though Pota was bit less…likable. One day, Callion was reading a book, and Pota, seeing the pursuit of knowledge as a sign of weakness made a remark akin to Callion being a “weak Saiyan.” While Callion normally just ignored such remarks, a sarcastic reply slipped out which involved insulting Pota’s more…round body frame. Pota, being flustered then insulted Callion’s mother with a string of unflattering words, and Callion uncharacteristically snapped. He pummeled the poor fat boy, and almost ripped him in half at one point, and when members of Pota’s gang tried to assist their friend, Callion began to assault them as well. At the end of the conflict, Callion stood panting over a dozen bleeding and severely injured nine to ten year olds.
With his mind returning to the present, Callion felt bad for the father for a moment, before remembering the last hour of his life. “I……beat your son into the ground and humiliated him, and in return...you killed my entire family?” Callion in a deceptively calm voice. “How is that fair?”
“You didn’t simply almost beat my son to death,” Kassava began in a derisive tone “I couldn’t care less about that little vermin. No. What you did to me was much worse. You embarrassed me. You made a mockery of my family’s legacy. You damaged my pride as both a Saiyan and as a warrior.”
At the utterance of the word “pride” Callion’s anger flared anew.
“WHAT?!” Callion shouted, his voice cracking a bit from the sudden strain on his vocal chords. “YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD! I’LL RIP YOU APART AND FEED YOU TO THE GROUND!”
Callion would then dash forward, and throw a punch at the man’s abdomen, which landed painfully due to the younger man’s element of surprise. Kassava held his ground, though spittle flew out of his mouth, and into Callion’s hair.
Kassava returned the favor with a strong left into the young man’s face, which forced Callion over the edge of the cliff side, and into the canyon. Kassava panted a bit, before his eyes darted down into the canyon, due to the huge rise in energy emanating from there. Quickly forming an X with his arms at the area beneath his chin, he expertly predicted his opponent’s attack, as a mere moment later the young man flew out of the chasm at an astonishing speed and tried to deliver a painful uppercut, only to have the blow blocked. Kassava's sinister grin widened, while Callion's eyes would grow wider with rage.
This marked the beginning of a titanic struggle between the two, during which many punches and kicks were traded, Callion’s sword was snapped in half, an older man’s jaw was almost completely knocked out of place, and Kassava demonstrated his ability to breath fire, by almost melting Callion’s armor off. They both battled furiously, each trying to gain an edge over the other. Callion was the stronger of the two, but Kassava had infinitely more experience. The duel lasted for over an hour, before finally Callion landed a successful elbow to the head from behind thanks to his After Image technique.
As Kassava crashed headfirst into the side of the canyon, Callion seized his opponent’s daze to dash toward him and grab Kassava by the throat. Staring into the man’s slightly terrified eyes, Callion tightened his grip so as to prevent any surprise attacks. Hard to strike back when you can barely breathe.
“M-M-Mercy!” Kassava croaked out through a lack of air. At this Callion’s eyes widened with fury.
“MERCY?! DID YOU SHOW COURGE MERCY?! WHAT ABOUT OKARA? SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE GOT ALL THE,” at this point Callion would begin to use his free hand to slam his fist into the man’s stomach.
“MERCY!”
Punch.
“IN THE”
Another punch.
“WORLD!”
A final punch had Kassava cough as much blood as he could muster through his constricted throat. At this point, Callion began to sound a bit deranged.
“YOU DON’T DESERVE ANY MERCY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOU OVERLY PRIDEFUL PIECE OF FILTH? DO YOU?! DO YOU?!”
It was at that last query that Callion pulled Kassava out of the indentation he had put the man in with all of his punches, tossed him into the air, before quickly catching Kassava's left foot, and whipping the man like a rag doll, slamming him into the side of the canyon.
“YOU!”
Slam.
“DESERVE!”
Crash.
“A SEARING!"
Both bone and rock shattered at the third impact.
"OBLIVIONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”
Callion whipped his arm upward so as to toss Kassava as hard as he could into the sky. Upon doing that, he stared directly at the ascending murderer and let loose both of his eye beams, piercing the rag doll of a man’s flesh and continuing to do so as gravity took back its dominance the man began to fall back down. The inexcusable scumbag finally landed before Callion’s feet, two smoking holes where his stomach and left side of his upper chest should have been. The air reeked with the putrid smell of burnt flesh, but Callion was already too disgusted with the unforgivable waste of flesh in front of him to care.
Turning away from the charred corpse in front of him, Callion gripped the hilt of his broken blade tightly in one hand, and gripped the other half of his sword in his other with the same intensity, as he powered up and launched into the air at his top speed. Tears drifted downward in his wake, though he would never admit to crying. All of his emotions were so spaced and varied. Maybe that was what led to his downfall in the eyes of his kind. Or perhaps it was the very dislike of his kind’s method that finally sealed his fate of being alienated by them. Perhaps if Callion had embraced his heritage for even an instant, he might not’ve ended up going through the hell he would, but life was never fair.
A passerby member of the SSE noticed the two red beams pierce the clouds, and immediately changed course in order to investigate. Upon arrival, he spotted what looked like a man asleep on a cliff side inside of the canyon. Getting in closer, he noticed blood and immediately hastened his pace. Landing next to the man, he took note of the man’s various injuries. Bruises, bones piercing through his skin, two gaping holes in his upper body. He was not looking very good. He looked to be alive, but barely. There was no helping this man. Best to get what he could out of him, and try to deliver justice.
“Who did this to you?” the young Elite asked, not sure if he would even get a coherent response.
Kassava was breathing shakily, almost about to tumble over into death’s sweet free fall. “It…was...a traitor...to the…Empire…Name...was...Callion.” At the utterance of his murderer’s name, the light in Kassava eye’s faded, and he embraced death with the last laugh. He had gotten his revenge. Callion would be crushed by the might of the empire. He could die at peace.
The young Elite sighed for a moment, giving a customary moment of silence for his brother in arms. The poor man had been assaulted by some wretch with no pride. What he was doing before could be taken care of later. He needed to report to the higher ups about this. Standing up straight, he would kick Kassava’s body over the edge of the cliff and into the dark canyon. A fair sendoff for an respectable warrior. Powering up, he would rocket off of the ground and fly back toward the mainland.
Callion was flying as quickly as he could toward his father’s old ship. He was done with Planet Vegeta. It was a disgusting world filled with irredeemable apes, and a useless value on pride. Just thinking of that disgusting word made Callion’s blood boil. His ruined blade felt heavy in his hands. Images of the day he received the blade from his father ran through his mind, before he forcefully shut them out, and sped himself up. Twenty minutes later, he would reach the capsule, and upon doing so, open the front latch and enter the Attack Ball. Panting a bit from rage and shock, he would put in a series of random coordinates, and activate the launch sequence.
I don’t care where I end up as long as it’s far away from there.
Upon feeling the thrum of the engine, and the eventually lift off and disembark from the planet, Callion would take a look at his ruined blade. He would then look outside of his capsule and see the dark expanse of space and millions upon millions of stars. Seeing such a beautiful sight, Callion was steeled with a new resolve.Putting both edges together, he would gently use his laser to begin welding both ends back together.
The process would take a long time, but even so…most things in life did.
Final Word Count: 4141
Two men walked through the sand, both of equal height, though the man on the left looked much older than his right sided companion. Both men shared equally pitch black hair, though the one on the right’s was much more…styled, whereas the older of the two had a simple buzz cut, and both were wearing traditional Saiyan armor. Both sets were black and white in color scheme and looked almost identical, though the man on the left’s seemed much more worn than the one on the right’s. In addition, both men were equipped with a sword though they were carried on different parts of their person. The older of the two carried his blade on his waist, while the younger man carried his on his back. Their steps left footprints on the sand that were quickly filled by the ever persistent wind. The reason for the two men skipping out on the practicality of flight was “core building” another ridiculous idea formed in the head of the old blade master Courge. His son found it ridiculous, but his father’s overbearing attitude and Callion’s habit of remaining passive coerced the son into follow his father’s order.
“Are you positive that this is necessary, Dad?” said a young man, staring to his right at his father’s face, as he strolled beside him. He walked a confident but humble walk, his voice deep, but lacking in a true man’s gravel.
“It most certainly is, soldier!” said the older of the two, sounding exactly like a drill sergeant, “Walking builds character and toughens up the core! And what’s a Saiyan with a weak core?”
Callion rolled his eyes at the question. He had heard it so many times that he would need to have fallen off of a cliff and hit his head to have forgotten the answer.
“A weak Saiyan,” Callion said with a sigh. All this emphasis on power, and yet I’m almost certain that no matter how strong one becomes, the one will never be the strongest person in existence. Callion didn’t hate his father by any means. He just didn’t care for the old swordsman’s overbearing belief that every Saiyan should be the same. It was moronic and pointless. Callion hated this outing he was on. It made no sense to the young man. It was just an odd demand. A parent asking their child to risk their own life for the parent’s benefit. But that was the situation at hand. Courge was demanding that his son leave on some sort of “strengthening vacation,” and no matter how much stronger Callion was than his father, he was only sixteen years old, and lacked the rebellious drive necessary to disobey his parents.
After another agonizing hour of sweat filled strolling, the two Saiyan men finally reached their destination. A spherical ship sat complacently in the middle of a particularly low patch of the crimson sand. On the right side of the vessel, was a crudely painted symbol of a bloodied fist holding a sword
“Dad, why did you paint a symbol onto this once unblemished vessel?” Callion asked in a bit of an intellectual tone, trying not to hurt his father’s feelings.
“Because son,” the father began to reply in his usual “educational voice”, “my enemies have to know who's coming to slay them. Otherwise they’ll just think it’s some random schmuck, and won’t quake in their boots enough. With this puppy they’ll know,” Courge paused for a moment for dramatic effect, before drawing his blade from its sheath and saying in a comically loud and gravelly voice “SCOURGE THE BLADEMASTER HAS COME TO SLAY THEM!”
Callion stared at his father for a moment before turning his head back toward the ship. Sighing, he began to take a step toward it, when his father’s hand reached out to stop him. “Listen son,” Courge began in his usual gruff voice, though the look on his father’s face surprised Callion. Sadness was set into his expression, with a hint of worry in the old man’s eyes. Fear and sorrow, two emotions Callion had never seen his father exhibit before.
“I want you to know…I’m only doing this because I love you. I know you think it’s a waste of time and energy, but I really think that can be the most powerful Saiyan on all of Vegeta someday. Just...” Courge took a pause and let out a shaky breath as if trying to hold back tears, “just try to come back to your mother and I okay?”
Callion heart began to race. Worry was beginning to envelop him. Why was his father so worried? How dangerous was the planet he was being sent to? Would he actually not come back? All of these questions and more raced through his mind, and were about to be asked before Callion took a good look at his father’s face. The man was on the verge of tears, and though he believed this was what his son needed, he enjoyed it no more than Callion did. Upon realizing this, Callion steeled his nerves, clenched his fists, and began his journey. Walking five paces forward, he reached the ship and upon opening entrance hatch, entered the ship and sat in the vessel. Before closing the door, he would give his father a big smile and thumbs up. Courge looked momentarily shocked at the son’s gesture of joy, before returning the favor with a smile and thumbs up of his own. The door slowly sealed itself shut, thus obscuring Callion’s view of his father. Callion held smile until the last of his father’s own grin was gone. The act of smiling for that long made Callion feel a little bit better, though he certainly wasn’t amused by the amount of space he had left due to his large sword. Reaching toward his back, he would struggle a bit with pulling the blade from its sheath, before successfully completing the task. Staring at the jet black blade, he recalled his father’s explanation of the ingenious blade.
Crafted with Saiyan ingenuity, the blade of the sword itself was double-edged and had a forty one inch blade with an eleven inch hilt, all in all being a fifty two inch long blade in total, but required a Saiyan's raw strength to wield, due to the blade itself being hollow and segmented. Within each segment was a heavy weight which added to the weapon's unique purpose in combat. It struck with increased force, but required an experienced handler due to the increased weight of the weapon itself. The hollow blade segments remained durable, backed by the reinforcement of the heavy metallic bars that lay within each segment. The weapon crushed into foes, the added weight sharply increasing its cutting power. Even if the blades themselves were damaged in some way, the large metallic bars welded to the weapon beneath the bladed segments allowed it to be used as a vicious blunt weapon. A fearsome weapon though it was, Callion only used to battle either large groups of enemies, or an enemy who was also wielding a blade.
Sheathing the blade with a bit of effort, he heard a series of beeps that indicate his compliance in activating the craft’s automatic piloting functions. Raising his head toward the ceiling of the vessel, he pressed a flashing red button, and felt a vibrating thrum as the engine roared to life. The vessel began to hover over the ground a moment before blasting off into the sky at light speed.
Courge followed the vessel with his eyes, a tear sliding down his scarred face.
“Bye son,” he whispered to himself “Stay safe.”
Three years later
A dust covered Attack Ball landed in the middle of a particularly barren patch of desert on Planet Vegeta. Painted crudely on the side of the vessel, was the half faded image of a fist holding a sword. The hatch to said capsule began to slowly open, and a moment later firmly settled itself into the sandy ground. Exiting from the capsule was a grown man. He was a tall man, being about six feet tall, though he certainly was not the tallest man in the world. His hair was midnight black and spiky at the front, but lower along the back. His skin was very well tanned, and his eyes were the eyes of a man who’d seen many terrifying things, and was grateful that he’d never have to see them again. His expression was stoic, though a smile was tugging at his lips at the thought of seeing his parents again. Powering himself up, he rocketed off of the ground and flew like a jet southward.
Callion was home again.
The landscape quickly shifted beneath him, becoming a blur as he reached his top speed. An aura of white surrounded the young man as he soared at least fifty feet above the ground, taking care not to go too high. After several minutes of flying, he finally came across a small yet comfortable looking house in the middle of nowhere. There were several piles of broken training dummies littering the area, and what looked like a failed attempt at building a shed of some sorts. Callion took a moment to stop and chuckle, recalling the time his father had tried to create his own personal armory. The fond recollection of his father led him to begin reminiscing of his mother who always laughed along with a young Callion whenever his father did something silly. It was a simpler time back then, but now he was finally home and ready to be with his parents again. Descending toward his front door, Callion stared up at the old stone gray house for a moment.
It’s good to be home, Callion thought before gripping the door handle and pushing his way into his house.
Callion was a tad confused to hear the sound of something roll across the floor. It couldn’t have been a ball, Father had taken all of his toys away from him when he was five years old. Opening the door all the way, he would stare into his living quarters, and turn pale white. His blood would run ice cold at the scene before him. Laying on the floor in front of him was the bloody and burned head of his mother. Her skin and hair looked as if they were torched by a powerful flame.
No. No no no. NO!
Steeling himself, he continued to search the rest of his home. For the first time, he noticed the ample amounts of proof that a struggle was had. Furniture was either reduced to a smoking pile of ash or gone entirely. Almost every wall had several holes in them, varying in size and shape. Blood splattered every surface, including the ceiling. As he searched, Callion continuously came across several bloodied body parts that could only belong to either one of his parents. His search eventually ended with the gruesome discovery of his father’s head, pinned to a wall by his own sword, along with a note. Almost vomiting in disgust and shock, Callion steeled himself once again, and moved forward in order to rip the note off of the blade. Tears streaked down his face as his eyes began to scan the scrawl, which to add insult to emotional devastation, was written in what Callion could only assume to be his parent’s blood.
“This is what you deserve scum. Come to the nearest canyon so I can reunite you with your family.”
P.S. Happy Birthday
P.S. Happy Birthday
Callion’s hands shook in sorrow for a moment before they began to tremble with more fervor, but the feelings of sadness had passed. What gripped Callion’s Saiyan heart now was a pure and unbridled rage. Crumpling the paper inside his trembling fist, he would toss it to the floor, before a white aura began to envelop him. Enraged beyond belief, he would launch skyward, crashing through the ceiling with little to no regard of injury due to the blinding fury he was experiencing. With enough sense left in him to know the direction toward the nearest canyon, he took off at his maximum speed, all the while emitting an aura of pure anger.
After seething while flying for two whole miles at a rage increased speed, Callion reached his destination. Scanning the gargantuan crack in the ground with his red-tinged vision from fifty feet off of the ground, he spotted a lone figure standing on what appeared to be a sizable patch of solid ground, jutting out of one of the two cliff sides, about twelve feet into the canyon. Said figure was making an unrecognizable gesture toward him. Dashing toward him, his view of the marauder was made much more clear.
It was man in his late thirties, similar to his father, with ash gray skin, and a spiked Mohawk, which was black in coloration. He looked to be about 6’3 in height, though he might’ve been 6’4. His Saiyan armor was a mix of purple and black, though it was very worn, and stained in blood of varying colors. He was a well built man, with a strong jaw, and rippling muscles. His armor bore the mark of a Saiyan Elite on the area over his heart. The man looked like a consummate soldier.
Stopping at an area exactly six feet away from the man, Callion touched down onto the solid earthy ground, and stared at the man before him. His eyes were scanning the man over, analyzing him, reading him like a book, and then simply asked the man who took the only things he cared about away from him a question. One question to the man who destroyed his sense of family, and turned him into the rage fueled beast he had always taken painstaking lengths to avoid becoming. “Who the hell are you?”
The man opposite of him let out a low chuckle. Callion would clench his fists at the sound of the laughter, though he kept quiet. He had to know the reason before he did what he had to.
“You truly are a fool, boy…Just like your father.” Callion’s fists clenched even more so than they were before, but all pain was washed away by the sea of anger pouring out of him. “I am Kassava you impudent scum.” Callion’s features went from enraged to confuse in a matter of seconds.
“I’m not aware of anyone by that name in my recent memory, nor do I care all that much for trying to remember at the moment.” Callion said simply, taking great care not to dash forward and bash the man’s head in. His anger was being mildly abated by his curiosity.
The look on Kassava face was one of a frustrated child who did not get the recognition they deserved.
“You blithering dolt! I’m the father of the boy you bullied and assaulted eleven years ago! How dare you speak to me in that tone!”
Callion still seemed confused. “What are you-” Callion’s eyes would widen as he recalled exactly what the man was talking about. Ten years ago, during his time in the academy, Callion had been classmates with a boy named Pota. The boy was a rude blowhard, not unlike a younger version of his father Courge, though Pota was bit less…likable. One day, Callion was reading a book, and Pota, seeing the pursuit of knowledge as a sign of weakness made a remark akin to Callion being a “weak Saiyan.” While Callion normally just ignored such remarks, a sarcastic reply slipped out which involved insulting Pota’s more…round body frame. Pota, being flustered then insulted Callion’s mother with a string of unflattering words, and Callion uncharacteristically snapped. He pummeled the poor fat boy, and almost ripped him in half at one point, and when members of Pota’s gang tried to assist their friend, Callion began to assault them as well. At the end of the conflict, Callion stood panting over a dozen bleeding and severely injured nine to ten year olds.
With his mind returning to the present, Callion felt bad for the father for a moment, before remembering the last hour of his life. “I……beat your son into the ground and humiliated him, and in return...you killed my entire family?” Callion in a deceptively calm voice. “How is that fair?”
“You didn’t simply almost beat my son to death,” Kassava began in a derisive tone “I couldn’t care less about that little vermin. No. What you did to me was much worse. You embarrassed me. You made a mockery of my family’s legacy. You damaged my pride as both a Saiyan and as a warrior.”
At the utterance of the word “pride” Callion’s anger flared anew.
“WHAT?!” Callion shouted, his voice cracking a bit from the sudden strain on his vocal chords. “YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD! I’LL RIP YOU APART AND FEED YOU TO THE GROUND!”
Callion would then dash forward, and throw a punch at the man’s abdomen, which landed painfully due to the younger man’s element of surprise. Kassava held his ground, though spittle flew out of his mouth, and into Callion’s hair.
Kassava returned the favor with a strong left into the young man’s face, which forced Callion over the edge of the cliff side, and into the canyon. Kassava panted a bit, before his eyes darted down into the canyon, due to the huge rise in energy emanating from there. Quickly forming an X with his arms at the area beneath his chin, he expertly predicted his opponent’s attack, as a mere moment later the young man flew out of the chasm at an astonishing speed and tried to deliver a painful uppercut, only to have the blow blocked. Kassava's sinister grin widened, while Callion's eyes would grow wider with rage.
This marked the beginning of a titanic struggle between the two, during which many punches and kicks were traded, Callion’s sword was snapped in half, an older man’s jaw was almost completely knocked out of place, and Kassava demonstrated his ability to breath fire, by almost melting Callion’s armor off. They both battled furiously, each trying to gain an edge over the other. Callion was the stronger of the two, but Kassava had infinitely more experience. The duel lasted for over an hour, before finally Callion landed a successful elbow to the head from behind thanks to his After Image technique.
As Kassava crashed headfirst into the side of the canyon, Callion seized his opponent’s daze to dash toward him and grab Kassava by the throat. Staring into the man’s slightly terrified eyes, Callion tightened his grip so as to prevent any surprise attacks. Hard to strike back when you can barely breathe.
“M-M-Mercy!” Kassava croaked out through a lack of air. At this Callion’s eyes widened with fury.
“MERCY?! DID YOU SHOW COURGE MERCY?! WHAT ABOUT OKARA? SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE GOT ALL THE,” at this point Callion would begin to use his free hand to slam his fist into the man’s stomach.
“MERCY!”
Punch.
“IN THE”
Another punch.
“WORLD!”
A final punch had Kassava cough as much blood as he could muster through his constricted throat. At this point, Callion began to sound a bit deranged.
“YOU DON’T DESERVE ANY MERCY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DESERVE, YOU OVERLY PRIDEFUL PIECE OF FILTH? DO YOU?! DO YOU?!”
It was at that last query that Callion pulled Kassava out of the indentation he had put the man in with all of his punches, tossed him into the air, before quickly catching Kassava's left foot, and whipping the man like a rag doll, slamming him into the side of the canyon.
“YOU!”
Slam.
“DESERVE!”
Crash.
“A SEARING!"
Both bone and rock shattered at the third impact.
"OBLIVIONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”
Callion whipped his arm upward so as to toss Kassava as hard as he could into the sky. Upon doing that, he stared directly at the ascending murderer and let loose both of his eye beams, piercing the rag doll of a man’s flesh and continuing to do so as gravity took back its dominance the man began to fall back down. The inexcusable scumbag finally landed before Callion’s feet, two smoking holes where his stomach and left side of his upper chest should have been. The air reeked with the putrid smell of burnt flesh, but Callion was already too disgusted with the unforgivable waste of flesh in front of him to care.
Turning away from the charred corpse in front of him, Callion gripped the hilt of his broken blade tightly in one hand, and gripped the other half of his sword in his other with the same intensity, as he powered up and launched into the air at his top speed. Tears drifted downward in his wake, though he would never admit to crying. All of his emotions were so spaced and varied. Maybe that was what led to his downfall in the eyes of his kind. Or perhaps it was the very dislike of his kind’s method that finally sealed his fate of being alienated by them. Perhaps if Callion had embraced his heritage for even an instant, he might not’ve ended up going through the hell he would, but life was never fair.
A passerby member of the SSE noticed the two red beams pierce the clouds, and immediately changed course in order to investigate. Upon arrival, he spotted what looked like a man asleep on a cliff side inside of the canyon. Getting in closer, he noticed blood and immediately hastened his pace. Landing next to the man, he took note of the man’s various injuries. Bruises, bones piercing through his skin, two gaping holes in his upper body. He was not looking very good. He looked to be alive, but barely. There was no helping this man. Best to get what he could out of him, and try to deliver justice.
“Who did this to you?” the young Elite asked, not sure if he would even get a coherent response.
Kassava was breathing shakily, almost about to tumble over into death’s sweet free fall. “It…was...a traitor...to the…Empire…Name...was...Callion.” At the utterance of his murderer’s name, the light in Kassava eye’s faded, and he embraced death with the last laugh. He had gotten his revenge. Callion would be crushed by the might of the empire. He could die at peace.
The young Elite sighed for a moment, giving a customary moment of silence for his brother in arms. The poor man had been assaulted by some wretch with no pride. What he was doing before could be taken care of later. He needed to report to the higher ups about this. Standing up straight, he would kick Kassava’s body over the edge of the cliff and into the dark canyon. A fair sendoff for an respectable warrior. Powering up, he would rocket off of the ground and fly back toward the mainland.
Callion was flying as quickly as he could toward his father’s old ship. He was done with Planet Vegeta. It was a disgusting world filled with irredeemable apes, and a useless value on pride. Just thinking of that disgusting word made Callion’s blood boil. His ruined blade felt heavy in his hands. Images of the day he received the blade from his father ran through his mind, before he forcefully shut them out, and sped himself up. Twenty minutes later, he would reach the capsule, and upon doing so, open the front latch and enter the Attack Ball. Panting a bit from rage and shock, he would put in a series of random coordinates, and activate the launch sequence.
I don’t care where I end up as long as it’s far away from there.
Upon feeling the thrum of the engine, and the eventually lift off and disembark from the planet, Callion would take a look at his ruined blade. He would then look outside of his capsule and see the dark expanse of space and millions upon millions of stars. Seeing such a beautiful sight, Callion was steeled with a new resolve.Putting both edges together, he would gently use his laser to begin welding both ends back together.
The process would take a long time, but even so…most things in life did.
Final Word Count: 4141
