The Hand That Feeds Me, Prologue

WHAT THIS STORY IS; Author�s notes.

Yep, you guess it!
This is gonna be another one of those Saiya-jin no-Ouji childhood-fics. It's gonna be long, and it's gonna be mean.

I'll say upfront that it's not gonna be a very friendly fic. I take a perverse kind of pleasure in putting characters in bad situations, and just kind of stand at the side, watching if they can manage to safe themselves.
I don�t want to write a story going �oh, yes, Vegeta�s evil, but he�s had such a hard time, he really can�t help it, poor thing.� kind of fic.
I do want to put up a believable way his character grew, but that doesn�t have to make him a nice person to begin with.
I don't believe people are good. I don't even believe children are good.

On the other hand, I don't believe anyone's truly evil either.
(So, there! I disagree with the great Goku himself!
Please, all you great and fuming fans, don't hurt me!)

As a consequence, all my characters in this story will be a mix, somewhere between good and evil.
Either that, or they are raving-stock MAD!
(And yes, mad is more fun. But the doctors do keep trying to hunt you down, and then there's all the blood-stains,... *shrugs*)

SO, warning! Blood, murder and serious psychological games ahead; angst, and �later- I am going to get to give Vegeta that twisted sense of humour we all remember and loved from when he first got introduced into the series.
(IMHO, the best part, even if he does look like a mad garden-gnome back then!)

>>>>>>>>>This is my theory on creating a killer from scratch.

Other Warnings:
Oh, one last thing: yes. I am gonna swear. I can't help it. It comes natural to me. Must be all that TV.
Deal with it.
Like I said, there�s gonna be a lot of blood, but that�s natural in DBZ fics. I am going to go beyond �his head exploded� though. I�m starting to like writing graphic violence scenes.
Sex I hardly think will get appropriate, though there�s a little bit of naughty stuff on Veggies parents, but you have to be some kind of weirdo to take offence of those scenes. I think,.. (?) Of course, it could just be that I�m the weirdo.

There. Will you believe I even cut those author�s notes down for you? Well, if you think that was bad�
On with the fic!

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball, or any or the characters. Not even Vegeta. Damn, no Saiyi-jins for me!
Oh, well.
At least I have a cat. It's almost the same: loud, violent and it keeps demanding food.

(You can start reading now.)

Frieza sat his high-faulted chair, a glass of wine in one hand, the other stroking the pillowed armrest absentmindedly. He swayed the wine around in its cup, looking out of the grand stainless window; out onto the stars, and that magnificent view that was his, all his. As far as he could see, and beyond even that.

All was well, out here. But then, if he turned his ship the other way, he would be greeted by a view that proclaimed his future: millions of stars, billions of planets.

All there and readily awaiting their future; all awaiting his coming.

Frieza sighed.
It would take forever and longer to conquer the whole galaxy.
But even an Ice-jin could not evade his destiny. And this was his destiny.

Still, he could delegate a few of his less important tasks to others.
It would save him some time.

Too bad it was the most enjoyable tasks that were easiest to appoint to others.

Even so, his mind was made up.
He had to do this.

He had to give up his favourite hobby.

No more time to raise his 'children'.

Too bad.

But, he reasoned, teaching someone to take his place. Teaching someone to raise his killers well� it would take some time. It would take, oh, at least fifteen years. So he at least still had this last bunch; his newest acquisitions.

He would just have to make them last.

Frieza sighed again as the blue youth behind him started fidgeting, no doubt getting tired of crouching on the floor.
Well, youth; almost a man grown now.

It really was a shame.
He had been such a pretty boy: cute, in an almost girlish sort of way.
But his voice was breaking now, spoiling the effect for good.

The lord and master of the universe decided to have mercy on his subject. He spoke up in his almost feminine voice.
Almost witch-like some would say, but Frieza felt it made him sound trust-worthy.

"Yes, Zarbon. You must be wondering why I've sent for you."

The young warrior seemed to take that as excuse enough to stand, but Frieza let it pass. If he'd been too lenient with the warrior before, it was now too late to do anything about it. He continued in his �honey sweet� voice,
"Pay attention, my dear boy. You will take over our youngest warrior's training..."

Trailing off, the Ice-jin finally turned from the visage beyond the window, curious to see the man's response.
He only nodded; disappointingly enough; Frieza had hoped for more of a response then that.
After all, he was practically appointing him as a prot�g�.

Never mind it.

Zarbon had always been diplomatic at the most un-appropriate of times. �Or at least at all the times Frieza went for an emotional response.
It was probably the main reason the boy had managed to wiggle out of the usual -rather strict- training programs.
And worked his way up besides.
Well, that, and his looks.

Frieza shrugged mentally.

"Now then, my good friend. We will start with the basics. Creating a warrior."
The pink little tyrant groped for a good metaphor, then reached for the fruit plate at his side.

"Creating a warrior from a child is... Is like creating wine from this grape..."
Frieza smiled at his own wit, looking up at the man he felt was probably his most loyal subject.

"First, you squash it, and stamp it till no juices remain. Then you stir and finally leave it to stew and distil on it's own."

Frieza smiled, squeezing the drape and letting the juice run into his glass.

"Only when it's done and ready, ready to you taste its flavour. Only then can you know; know you have indeed done well."