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Kulilin, # 18, and Marron could only stare in shock at what had just occurred. What the Saiya-jin had said didn’t even fully sink in to their numbed brains.
“G-goku,” stammered Kulilin, turning to look at his ‘friend,’ “why?”
“I told you,” the man who was no longer Goku replied with another blast that completely disintegrated #18’s head. “Son Goku is no more.” Another blast, and Marron was lost to the world as well. The one-time monk could not even process what was going on around him. This, his best friend, the man who was pure enough to be the first Super Saiya-jin in over a thousand years, had just killed his own son and was now slaughtering his family.
“Now, there’s only Kakarotto.”
Kulilin didn’t even feel the ki as it pierced his chest, ripping his already broken heart to shreds.
Kakarotto surveyed his handiwork, a feeling of wicked glee coursing through his blood. It had been much, much too long since he had tasted blood, and frankly; it felt good. *Now for food,* he thought, searching through the house for the kitchen. He found it quickly, and began rooting around in the fridge.
After eating his fill, which turned out to be almost all the food in the building, he stood up and began looking around the small house. “What do I do next, he wondered aloud,” looking at the pictures that lined the mantle. One picture in particular caught his eye.
Grabbing the photo from its place, he peered at it closely. It was a picture of his sappy good half, holding that first brat boy of his when he was around five years old. It wasn’t the picture that had caught Kakarotto’s eyes, though, it was the hat Gohan was wearing.
“Of course,” he muttered, touching the dragon ball in the photo, “those have to be next. Too much of a chance these pitiful Earth dwellers Goku called 'friends' could wish him back into existence. That shouldn’t be hard to take care of, though.”
The evil grin once more taking its place, Kakarotto dropped the picture and slammed through the roof, flying at full speed towards Dende’s palace.
The young Kami froze in place, staring at the horizon.
“Kami-sama, what is wrong?” Mr. Popo inquired. Piccolo, from his meditative perch in the air merely looked in Dende’s direction, a single ridge of his eye raised in question.
“It’s Goku-san,” Dende exclaimed, still staring off into the sky.
“Son?” Piccolo asked, his eye raising even further. “What happened?”
“H-he’s not there!” Dende couldn’t keep the puzzlement out of his voice as he finally turned to face his companions.
“What do you mean he’s not there?” Mr. Popo asked, equally confused.
“I don’t quite know what happened,” Dende said, looking first at Mr. Popo and then at Piccolo. “His body is still there but he has somehow been replaced by something else, something evil... and it’s coming here.”
“In that case,” Piccolo growled, grabbing both Dende and Mr. Popo’s arms, “we’d better head elsewhere. Much as I hate to admit it, if whatever it is has Son’s body than it’s much too powerful for me to stop alone.” Piccolo’s tone left no room for argument. When Kakarotto arrived, all that was left at Dende’s palace was the wind and a few specks of dust slanting off the sunlight.
The Saiya-jin looked around the place, enraged that the Nameck had escaped him. Haphazardly, he let his ki fly, destroying over half of the floating building before he was satiated.
*Hmm, well it looks like this will have to wait,* he thought to himself once he had calmed down. *I suppose it’s all right. I have bigger fish to fry.* Grinning wickedly once more, Kakarotto took off, turning his course toward the largest company in the known world: Capsule Corporation.
Trunks was outside waiting for his best friend to arrive. Goten had promised he would come over just as soon as he got back from Kulilin’s house, and the boy was getting impatient. Just as he was about to give up and go back inside he spotted a small dot in the distance rapidly approaching. After a short while he could make out the form of Goku heading toward the house, and in a few moments the older man touched down.
“Konichiwa, Goku-san!” Trunks called out, waving to him. “Where’s
Goten? I thought he was coming with you.”
Kakarotto barely managed to keep yet another evil smile from
springing to his lips as he turned and answered the boy.
“Goten can’t play right now,” Kakarotto replied, altering his voice to match the simpering tone used by his counterpart. “He’s... busy. Where’s your father?”
“Busy....” Trunks whined, ignoring Goku’s question, “but he promised he’d come over!”
This time, the feral grin could not be contained. “I guess I could let you see him if you’d like,” Kakarotto said, turning on the young half Saiya-jin.
“Really, Goku-san?” Trunks said, hope in his voice. He never noticed the look on “Goku’s” face as he replied.
“Really,” Kakarotto answered solemnly. Without another word, he grabbed the boy by the head and with a small ki blast sent him hurtling into a tree in the distance, breaking it in half on impact.
“And by the way, brat,” the full-blooded Saiya-jin called out in the aftermath, “the name’s Kakarotto, not Goku.”
Vegeta carefully looked around before gingerly stepping into the newly cleaned kitchen. Tiptoeing over to the large, well-stocked refrigerator, he gently opened the door and took out a half-pound of roast beef. Sure, Bulma had said there would be no snacking until dinnertime, but he was the man of this house! He had no need to listen to some snobby, overbearing, half-witted...
“VEGETA!!!” The mighty prince of the Saiya-jin cringed as Bulma stomped into the room, scowling heavily.
“I thought I told you there were to be absolutely no before-dinner raids on the fridge! That meat is supposed to be for...” Bulma’s rant was interrupted by harsh laughter from the doorway to the kitchen. She looked over to see her longtime friend, Son Goku, leaning against the doorframe. It was definitely Goku, there was no question about that, but he seemed somehow different. He had the same hair, the same outfit, the same grin... *no, that’s it!* she realized with a start. *The grin is missing!*
“Kakarotto! What are you doing here!” Vegeta demanded, staring down the low-class warrior.
“Finally,” he replied, moving from his stance against the frame and walking towards the prince, “somebody got my name right.”
Vegeta was baffled by this turn of events, but he was given mere seconds to ponder the situation before Goku leaped at him, smashing his head into the refrigerator. He barely heard Bulma’s scream as he was sent flying through the walls of Capsule Corp., coming to rest on the ground outside.
Instantly Kakarotto was on him, pummeling him in a flurry of fists. Vegeta managed to break away and get on his feet, getting up his arms in defense as the next wave hit him. The two Saiya-jins battled back and forth, scarring the land beneath them as they fought. Miraculously, Vegeta was keeping up with the other man... barely. Their auras flared brighter as the anger of each rose, coming to a peak before pushing them into Super Saiya-jin.
Vegeta feinted a kick at Kakarotto’s head, then went for a punch to his gut, but he was anticipated. Grabbing hold of the shorter man’s neck, Kakarotto laughed as Vegeta attempted to free himself. Suddenly both were silenced when they heard a commanding voice below them.
“STOP!!”
Vegeta, still in Kakarotto’s grip, looked down to see Gohan staring up at the two men. At his side, heavily supported by his older brother, stood Goten. Slightly behind them, Videl carried an unconscious Trunks in her arms.
"'Tousan, what's going on here?" Gohan asked, the puzzlement clearly showing on his face. "I went to Kulilin-san's house only to find him and his family dead and Goten unconscious. And when he woke up and explained…" Gohan was at a loss for words.
"Son-san," Videl stepped in, "why did you attack Goten?"
A smirk appeared on Kakarotto's face. "'Son-kun' didn't attack the brat; he is no more. Only Kakarotto remains. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to play some more before I destroy you all." Kakarotto hurled Vegeta's fairly limp body at the others, distracting them just enough to give him time to escape.
Gohan was still utterly confused. "I still don't understand." He started to hypothesize about the cause of his father's strange behavior, but was interrupted. Vegeta was weakly sitting up, coughing up a speck of blood every now and then.
"I-it's impossible. It couldn't have happened. I would have sworn on my Saiya-jin honor that it was dead…"