‘Bound at every limb by my shackles of fear
Sealed with lies through so many tears
within, pursuing the end
I fight for the chance to be lied to again’
(Evanescence – Lies)
Everybody has a past but, then again, most people can remember what it held. That’s the difference between
me and most people; I can’t remember. I know I must have a past. You don’t just wake up one day and find yourself
on the run from one of the worst tyrants in history after all.
I don’t know what I did. All I know is the simple fact that I have to keep running. I’ll die if
I don’t. He wants me dead. So, with only this knowledge, I keep going without looking back. I’ve stayed in many
places but never for more than one night. Then I have to keep moving again.
I have to hand it to them, they’re fast. If I stay in one place longer than I need to they’re
easily able to catch up. This Frieza, whoever he is, must really want me dead if they keep following me like this.
What I don’t get is why I’m wanted dead. My earliest memory now is waking up in a pile of rubble
and blood. There was a stench all around me. I’ve never really smelt it before, or at least I don’t think I have,
but I recognised it easily.
All around me was the stench of death. Destruction. There were bodies. Bodies all around me with all sorts
of things missing. Legs. Arms. Heads. All of them covered with markings wherever there was a free bit of flesh. Not that it
mattered though. I saw the same markings where there wasn’t skin; on shards of muscles, exposed skulls and whatever
else spilled out of torn bodies.
Some of them were still alive. I saw soldiers still alive with the top of their heads missing, with half their
face burnt into black charcoal. Some of them were moaning out things about pains in their legs. Legs that they didn’t
have any more.
Did I do all that? Whatever it was, could it be possible that I was the cause? I don’t know. Like I
said, that’s my earliest memory now. No childhood, no hardships, no family. No memory at all. Just waking up in the
middle of all this horrible death. I couldn’t even recall my own name. I heard them calling me Zarbon so I assume that’s
what it is.
Those who were alive enough recognised me. Those who were strong enough came after me so I left. I ran and
I haven’t looked back since.
I have no idea what happened and I have no intension of asking those who are after me. I’ve learnt enough
about Frieza to know that he could kill me before the blink of an eye. I don’t plan to die at least until I know what
The voice knows though.
“Time to get up! Time to get up!”
Zarbon woke with a load grunt as something small but heavy jumped onto his chest. Tired eyes opened to see
the young son of his host with a wide grin set over his face, already wide awake at this early hour. Or at least he assumed
it was. He couldn’t see past the boy but the windows had nothing in front of them and there was no light coming through.
“Time to get up!” he repeated, hopping back onto the floor once he was sure that Zarbon was now
awake. Still with the large grin on his face, he began to tug on his arm. “Cummon! It’s time for the morning offerings
“The what now?” Zarbon sat up with a yawn, trying to get himself fully awake. Damn, he was usually
a lot more awake by now, all this avoiding death must be taking more out of him than he thought.
“Novolo!” a sharp and scolding voice came from the door as the boys mother appeared, arms folded
across her chest in a no-nonsense manner. “Come out now. Stop bothering him and go out to wait.”
“Yes mama,” with his grin deflating, the boy named Novolo shuffled out of the room, bottom lip
stuck out in a pout.
“Don’t mind him,” the large woman glanced back at her boy with a smile once he had left.
“The morning offering and praise is tradition on this planet but visitors are not expected to join in. I’ll get
some food when we come back so you can get some more sleep if you like.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll be gone by then,” now fully awake, his legs swung over to the
side of the bed so that the green visitor was able to stand. Grabbing the long cloak from where it had fallen onto the floor,
he set to adjusting it so that it would cover most of his form. “I may as well go now.”
“As you wish,” she nodded in understanding before the woman straightened up to look at him. “But,
if I may say, I have noticed how sad your eyes look. Are you looking for something, is that why you’re travelling?”
“I suppose,” Zarbon just shrugged as he pushed his feet into the boots that he had taken to wearing.
Since the accident, he guessed he could call it, he had done a few things to alter his appearance. First, obviously, was clothing.
He had found a pair of intact trousers and sleeveless shirt at Frieza’s base; he assumed that they were used for casual
training or something of the sort. He had also found a pair of standard boots and gloves. His hair was shorter now, tied back
in a loose ponytail instead of the braid that he had found it in. Zarbon had also wanted to get rid of the earrings and head
dress but, for some reason, they wouldn’t move. Somehow the ends were buried deep into his skin and wouldn’t come
out. He guessed that if he still had his memory he would know why they were like that but now he had no idea. So he did the
only thing that he could and left them where they were.
The loud sound of a bell ringing suddenly cut through the air, causing the woman to look up sharply. Zarbon
suddenly realised that he had never gotten her name.
“That’s my signal to go,” he smoothed down the clothing that she wore in preparation. “Whatever
it is, I hope you find it. And know that you’re always welcome here.”
Zarbon just grunted as he nodded in thanks.
“Damn piece of shit!” Radditz growled as he kicked the space pod sharply, only to draw out another
low hiss from somewhere deep inside it. “These things have been screwy ever since Zarbon flipped. I’d like to
know whatever the hell it is he did to them.”
Opening it up at the side, Radditz was quickly able identify the problem. Being the son of a scientist had
its advantages and it was an even bigger stroke of luck that some of the technology that Frieza used came from the Saiyan
culture. Well, in truth it was originally from the Tuffles.
The problem was easy enough to spot, it would be getting the spare part needed that would be the problem.
They usually had to be specially ordered.
As he closed it up again, Radditz’s shouldered slumped with a heavy sigh. He certainly wasn’t
going anywhere soon so he decided that he might as well take a look around. Maybe the planet that he was on would have what
he was looking for.
All of a sudden a thought pushed its way into his head, so he reached inside his space pod he pulled out the
standard issue training clothes that were given to each soldier. He wasn’t here directly on a mission after all, plus
it would be better not going in his recognisable uniform either; particularly as the one being hunted used to be a warrior
“Who knows,” he added verbally with a smile. “I might just find the target around here;
this was the area where his life signal was last picked up after all.”
A couple of hours later Radditz found himself even more annoyed than he had been. His hopes of finding spare
parts for his space pod had long since been flattened seeing as this planet seemed as primitive as it could get. The markets
were full of nothing but food, strange garments of clothing and other odds and ends that Radditz didn’t recognise.
Cheerful music from odd instruments floated around him but Radditz tried not to pay attention to it. Only
just able to stop his lips from curling upwards, that was easier said then done.
Quickening his pace, the tall Saiyan began pushing his way more hastily through the crowds. He wanted to get
away from this mind-numbingly cheerful music as soon as possible before contemplating on what he should do next. With his
ship in such bad condition and him on a planet that seemed very limited in technology, things weren’t looking too good.
Stepping around a group of children who were running and playing, seemingly oblivious to the people around
them, Radditz swerved to the side a little only to heavily jolt someone. Quickly steadying himself and spinning on his heels,
the Saiyan was ready to fix whoever he had hit with a glare but stopped at what he saw. Although it was only visible for a
second, he was sure that he saw a flash of golden eyes and green hair before the stranger pulled a cloak hood back over its
head and hurried away.
No, not a stranger. Radditz knew who that was, even if the sighting had only been for a split second. That
was Zarbon, it had to be!
Without a word, he went to follow him but his path was blocked by the group of children again, the ones who
seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that other people used the paths of the busy market. With a fierce but quiet growl, the
warrior clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. There was nothing that he could do right now that wouldn’t draw
attention to him and that wasn’t what he wanted right now. The stares that he was getting for his sheer size and hair
length were bad enough.
With his eyes cast downward, he proceeded to navigate his way through the moving sea of happy children, being
careful yet also restraining himself so that he didn’t step on any in the process, deliberate or accidental. Once he
had cleared that obstacle he looked up only to find that Zarbon had vanished.
With another growl, he surveyed the scene. Between the buildings there appeared to be a complex network of
alleyways, the perfect place for someone to hide.
And also the perfect place for a hunter to trap his pray.
After taking a couple of paces down the alleyway that he had ducked into, Zarbon turned to make sure that
he hadn’t been followed. Sure that he hadn’t, he sighed softly as he pulled the hood from off his head. The sun
rose quickly here and it was far too hot to keep it on. Zarbon had found that, for some reason, he didn’t tend to do
so well in heat such as this.
But that wasn’t his biggest worry as he cursed himself. Although the tall man that had stumbled into
him hadn’t been wearing the battle armour, he was sure that he was one of Frieza’s men. None of the people around
here had an appearance like him, despite it being a very multi-cultural race. That meant that he would have to leave here
as soon as possible.
What’s the point? They’ll keep following you, they always do. They won’t stop
until they catch you in a corner and then what will you do?
Zarbon growled to himself as one hand shot up to his head. His fist tightened to clutch some of his hair.
That voice, that voice was back again.
You can try to ignore me but I won’t go away. I’ll stay with you, always here right
inside your head where you can’t escape me.
“Stop it!” his voice came out in a harsh whisper as his pace quickened. His hand still on his
head, Zarbon went deeper into the complex network of alleyways. “Why won’t you just leave?”
Because then I wouldn’t have my fun. You walk through these alleyways, walking so aimlessly.
Just like looking for your past, travelling aimlessly to nothing but more darkness.
“You know what I did don’t you?”
I’ve already told you that I do. I know what you’ve unleashed. It’s all here
buried deep within your mind with me. Right where you can’t get.
“Why can’t you just tell me? Would it be that bad for me to know?”
I don’t tell you because it’s more fun this way. It’s more fun seeing you suffer,
wondering alone in the dark. Forever lost, always wondering with nowhere to go. What you did is what binds you to that fate.
Bound by invisible chains. Shackles made of want but fear of the past.
“Leave me alone!”
Only one way to do that the voice began to tease and joke, obviously enjoying itself
in its torture. You go, I go. Or do I? Maybe I’ll forever remain with you, always with you inside your head
even in the afterlife. Wouldn’t that be interesting? Or maybe your death will mean your peace. Only one way to find
out. Spill your blood, take what is left of your soul.
“I have no intension of dying!”
But that is what you’re pursuing. You’re pursuing the end. The knowledge of your path
will be your death. The darkness you’re in has no light.
“Stop it!” Zarbon came to a halt, clutching at his head with both hands. The tall buildings towering
overhead were blocking the sun now from wherever his aimless wondering had taken him. Laughter erupted inside his mind, that
cruel, twisted, tormenting laughter. He covered his ears but nothing he could do would block that hideous sound.
His knees bucked and Zarbon’s head was thrown back with a great but strangled cry as he pushed out all
the power in his body. The ground beneath him shook but it seemed that nothing would shift the laughter. The voice would always
remain, knowing what he had done but keeping that knowledge in darkness where it was impossible to find.
Afraid of lies, afraid of tears. Afraid of the chains that holds his fears, the voice
was chanting to him again. That horrible chant that would drive him closer and closer to insanity every time he heard it.
Running in darkness, nothing to see. No one to find, not even me. He wants his past but soon he’ll find,
he’ll meet his death instead when he loses his mind!
“Stop it!” hunched over, his forehead was nearly on the ground as he tried to will the taunting
voice away. The laughter and chanting continued over and over again to make his ears ring and his body shudder. “Get
out of my head! Get out! Get out and leave me alone!”
He could feel hot tears coursing down his face as his body began to shake violently, his hysteric state beginning
to overtake him. His head throbbed and his vision began to swim.
The burning was back again. Something was burning his head.
Something was pulling him into darkness but Zarbon fought against it. He would lose, he knew that. The darkness
always won but he would keep on fighting anyway. He didn’t want to go back into that darkness, where the laughter and
voices would continue to drift all around him, slowly pushing him near the edge of that thin line between sanity and madness.
Pushing him towards it but never letting him completely fall so that next time they could start all over again.
Falling completely, he was taken by surprise when he didn’t hit the ground. Instead it felt like something
caught him. Blurry eyes opened and he was only just able to register whose arms he had fallen into.
The soldier from the market place.
He’d been caught. He couldn’t let….
He was back in front of that grave again, the same one that he always ended up in front of when the darkness
pulled him in. There was nowhere else to go so he didn’t move; unfocused eyes just stared at the great piece of stone
that stood before him.
A breeze had picked up and blew his hair in front of his eyes but he could still make out the large symbol
that was carved into the top of the grave. It looked like a sun and a star mixed into one, points jutting out in every available
direction. In the middle there was an eye, staring out blankly at him. There was something deeply disturbing about that eye
in the way it stared out at him; knowing and accusing. Any other person would just shrug off even such a disturbing looking
eye and accept it as part of the culture but what bothered him about it was that he recognised that mark.
It was the same one that he had seen left on the dead and dying soldiers when he had woken up with no memory.
There was no writing on the grave, just the symbol. Still, he had the feeling that he knew who it belonged
to. There was a feeling deep inside him that he had been standing here before, in a time when he hadn’t been dreaming.
There had been a time in his forgotten past when he had been standing right here in front of this grave. No matter how much
he tried, however, he just couldn’t remember.
Then it started happening, just like always. The eye on the carving blinked and when it opened the pupil was
a gold colour, like his. Gold outlined with a deep blood red. Slowly this blood colour filled up the pupil until it seemed
that it was unable to hold anymore.
The eye blinked again, this time the blood spilled out. It seeped out and ran down the grave, speeding up
more and more as it went. Soon the whole gravestone was covered in blood but still it kept going and continued onto the ground.
Every time since he had woken up on Frieza’s base he had been having this dream but, even so, he still
felt that unbearable fear grip and squeeze any life that was left in his heart. He still felt the fear as he watched the blood
creep closer and closer towards him at an alarming pace.
All the while that golden eye continued staring at him with its dead gaze, still crying the endless amounts
As the blood neared him, he took a step back only the fall into the darkness that he had been stood on. As
he fell the laughter started, the taunting laughter that followed him wherever he went. It was echoing loudly all around him,
ringing in his ears and pounding in his skull.
The river of blood rushed over the edge of whatever he had fallen off to tumble down all around him until
he was surrounded by the crimson colour.
Afraid of lies, afraid of tears. Afraid of the chains that holds his fears. Running in darkness,
nothing to see. No one to find, not even me. He wants his past but soon he’ll find, he’ll meet his death instead
when he loses his mind!
Nothing but that hideous chanting and laughter in his head. Nothing but darkness and blood in front of his
eyes. Nothing but lies and death in his memory.
He knew that he was walking further and further along the thin line between sanity and madness. Every time
he was pushed closer and closer to the edge but the voice inside him would never let him fall completely over. That was probably
what taunted him most of all.
It would have to happen sometime though; sooner or later whatever was in his head would get bored and push
him over. Then what? He would just go completely mad? What would happen then? Would he die, bleed through his own eyes?
Then something happened that had never occurred in his dream before. As the blood around him got darker, a
white light suddenly started shining from underneath him, so bright all of a sudden that he had to shield his eyes.
Then something came up behind him and caught him.
To be continued….