How many different versions of myself, living different versions of this life, changing at different times? Awareness. I can't seem to recall my friends, their faces. It feels like I've been here for so long. About a year now. It won't end without me dying, it seems. The God and Goddess had a child, proxy birth through a woman in the land of the living. He was crucified, died and rose beside his parents. I don't know what's going to happen to me after I die. I'm so fucking convinced about these things, this work of art I've been weaving around myself. I feel things in response. Stimulators and there's nothing yet. You made me forget the title and the quote. There was an EXIF of sentiments, something about a machination to your victory.
King Vegeta found himself in a chamber where the wooden frame of the surrounding walls were cracked, divided to let the light in. The floor was bloody and chains hung around him. The rattle suddenly came from the shadows, striking his skin as though it were living metal trying to grasp onto him. They fell, limp. The Black Pope appeared with four of his friends. The cenobites. Halek had warned The King and the others of this grave danger, of the pain and agony they had caused to innocent individuals throughout his dream world. The souls they had taken, perverted and claimed as their own like elves into orcs from Tolkien lore. Vegeta moved, his steps like the rays of light flashing in and out of existence, his fist through the cenobite's bodies like Vin's against the wooden board from his first test at the school where he had been trained in the martial arts as a child. They fell, lifeless and headless with a swift ridge hand strike followed by the collapsed heart in his ruddy, white glove. A simple tip-toe back into the shadows, so to speak. It wasn't disappearing. It was just quick movement. The cenobites knew of this as well. Within a few breaths, they were all heaped on top of their own forms. Vegeta turned to look at their leader, eyes of black fire. He ascended, tossing the grotesque form of what was once a man against the wall nearby. "Do you enjoy hurting the weak so much? Do you enjoy pain? You are a fool." By the end of this statement the rings of death were clutching around the Pope's neck, torso and legs. "You do not know what pain is!" Vegeta steps to him and with all swiftness removes the metal spikes studding his skull. "Have you ever felt the ground beneath you erupt in a frenzied storm of ash and fire, tearing you apart or launching you into the airless vacuum of space where your maimed form suffocates?" He slaps his bear, pallid visage a few times before thrusting his fist into his pierced stomach. The Pope spat blood. "So you do breath after all...You're not so dead as you claim." A hard backhand and the Pope's jaw hangs loosely, his sadistic rantings ended. "Have you ever felt every fiber of your body aflame before you exploded outwards, showering everything in your sights in an inferno of jagged shards? Have you ever felt the liquid burn? It's somewhat like the mixture of lye and saliva against your skin, this energy." Vegeta holds out his hands and a sphere of ki begins to coalesce. It shoots to the wall behind them and the light cascades in, the thunderous roar of the explosion muting out all the cries of the damned and screams of the innocent. "It's time these individuals were freed from you. What's the matter Pope?! Does the light burn your eyes?! Do you think you are forever? Think you know true power?! The person you've trapped in this stupid box was born an ascended Saiyajin! He holds strength in his fingertips that we only dream of! He is on our side and he is your worst nightmare, Pinhead!" Vegeta steps back ten feet, battle stance ready, rigid upright palm facing his enemy. Son Goku, meanwhile, was devouring the legions of the Pope's followers in a furious hailstorm of death from the black sky above. A fierce beacon of light amidst the living dead. Son Brolly was in his own quadrant, tearing the fabric of everything apart with all the glee that the Saiyajin feels in midst of righteous combat. Halek slept peacefully at the center of the labyrinth, awaiting patiently in his dreams to be carried off.
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