Dabura’s Disciple by Kaialicious

Disclaimer: I have never and will not ever make a profit from Dragon Ball Z and any of its merchandise. I have created this story for the soul purpose of entertaining myself. Akira Toriyama owns all of the rights to Dragon Ball Z.

Warning: This story contains YAOI, obscene language, rape, and blood play. It is NOT intended for under aged readers.

Author’s Note: Thanks to all of you who read my story, The Super Namek. I am pleased that you liked it so much enough to review it. Because of your obvious interest, I have concocted another tale based on Tram and Piccolo. I have dedicated it to those of you who thought that the first one was okay. Without further ado, I give you the sequel to The Super Namek.

*****

Tram felt the little human’s signature power long before the Earthling had appeared by the river. When the human child saw Tram step out of the shadow of the forest, he gasped in fright and took a few steps back.

“You’re not Mr. Piccolo,” the boy said warily. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing of you.”

“I came to see Mr. Piccolo.”

“Mr. Piccolo, hmmm?” Tram was amused.

“Gohan.”

Piccolo’s voice intruded his thoughts. It seemed that his mate had finally risen.

Piccolo stood at the entrance of the cave, clothed. Tram wondered how he had managed to reproduce the garments when Tram himself had destroyed them just last night. The recollection of their heated mating brought a satisfied grin to his face. Tram hoped that Piccolo would send the annoying human away so that they could continue their mutual exploration of each other.

Piccolo came and stood beside him. It pleased Tram that he did. It showed him that the Earth born Namek was no longer afraid of him.

“Hi, Mr. Piccolo! I bet you thought that I wouldn’t show up. Well, I almost didn’t, because of my mom. She didn’t want me to come. She said that your friend was a monster and shouldn’t be allowed around me.”

Gohan’s innocent disclosure made Tram growl in fury. Tram took a step forward towards the boy. Piccolo held out an arm to restrain him. Tram calmed down, and sized up the tiny human. “Why do you allow him to pester you? Is he your pet?” he asked Piccolo testily.

Piccolo frowned and said, “Gohan isn’t the one who pesters me.”

Tram smirked.

“Gohan isn’t a pet. He is my student,” Piccolo explained.

“Your student,” he was surprised by this revelation. Piccolo was instructing the boy. What ever for? “You teach him to fight for amusement, yes?”

Piccolo made a sound of disgust and walked away from Tram. Tram was puzzled by his mate’s actions. He did not understand why Piccolo would be so offended just because Tram did not like the little human. Truth be told, Tram did not like any humans. They were all weak and expendable creatures. Why did Picoo have to align himself with them?

He watched as Piccolo smiled down at the child. The child stared up at Piccolo in adulation.

“No training for today, Gohan.”

“Aw, why not?” the boy seemed crestfallen.

“There are some things that I have to do. I’ll come tomorrow and we’ll train then, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy answered. He looked over at Tram and said innocently, “I guess you’ll be pretty busy training with him, huh, Mr. Piccolo?”

Piccolo’s face flushed. Tram could not help but laugh.

Gohan noticed his sensei’s discomfort. “What’s wrong, Mr. Piccolo?”

“Nothing, Gohan. Why don’t you go on home?” Piccolo urged him.

“Oh, all right.” Gohan turned towards Tram and bowed. “Goodbye, Mr. Tram.”

Tram raised an eyebrow in surprise at the tiny human’s show of respect. Mr. Tram, he reflected. I like the sound of that. He made a mental note to have his subjects call him that when he finally took over the human infested planet.

They both watched as Gohan flew away.

“He is an odd little whelp,” Tram commented.

“Not as odd as his father. Gohan is half Saiyan,” Piccolo informed him. “His powers are extraordinary.”

“Ah, so it is his power that fascinates you.”

“No. Gohan is oblivious to his powers. He doesn’t even know that he’s destined for greatness. He just wants to train with me.”

Tram decided that he hated the little human. He hated him because Piccolo was so fond of the creature. Tram felt as though the boy was a serious threat to him. He reasoned that he was being a bit over reactive. The boy was almost still an infant by the look of him. There was nothing-untoward going on between him and Piccolo. Nothing at all.

“Why must you fawn over him?” he heard himself ask.

“What?”

“The boy,” he said. “Why must you coddle him so?”

“I have never coddled Gohan. That is his mother’s job. She smothers him enough as it is. Why did you ask me that?” Piccolo questioned.

“No reason,” he lied. “If you want, I could put your little prodigy out of his misery. Then maybe he won’t have to suffer from this mother any more.”

“Stay away from Gohan,” Piccolo grumbled angrily and stalked away.

Tram sensed that he had done something to offend him. He could feel Piccolo’s anger flowing around him in waves. It boded no good for their relationship.

“Damn it!”

For the rest of the day, Tram was in a surly mood and so was Piccolo. The super Namek had been brooding because Piccolo was refusing to sleep with him, and all because of Tram’s comment about putting little Gohan out of his misery. Tram recognized the error in the remark. He had not realized how much the little whelp meant to Piccolo. Gohan was like a surrogate son or brother in Piccolo’s estimation. It had taken Tram a while to figure out the relationship between his mate and the little brat. He saw now his mistake. It had been a case of jealousy on his part. His blunder had cost him his pleasure.

“Picoo-”

Piccolo’s threatening growl halted Tram from making any other attempt at conversing with him. Tram considered forcing the smaller Namek to respond, but the idea of doing that to his mate was too unappealing.

When Piccolo left the cave, Tram was tempted to follow him, but he knew that the cranky Namek would lash out at him verbally if he did. He remained in the cave and sulked instead. He did not want to spar with his mate. He wanted to be intimate with him, and if he could not have that, then he would spar with someone to get rid of the aching feeling.

*****

Tram had flown to Gohan’s house on a whim. The female that answered the door had refused to “fetch” Gohan, as Tram had requested. She had given him an earful as an alternative.

“I don’t care who you are! Gohan is studying! Even Piccolo knows better than to interrupt Gohan’s studies!”

Tram stared at the irritating woman for a moment before he shoved her out of the way. She shrieked and landed harmlessly against the couch. A door opened somewhere within the domicile and the boy Gohan appeared.

The little human looked surprised to see him. He assessed the situation before he greeted the super Namek. “Hello, Mr. Tram. What are you doing here?”

“I wish to spar with you.”

Gohan laughed and rubbed at the back of his head. “I can’t spar with you, Mr. Tram. You’ll cream me.”

Tram crossed his arms impatiently and inquired, “Cream you, what do you mean?”

“You’re much too strong for me. Besides, Mr. Piccolo would be mad,” the boy said.

So, Piccolo had warned the brat not to fight with him. Tram was amused. Piccolo had predicted well that Tram would seek out the little boy to take out his aggression upon him. He wondered what else his mate had told him.

“Then I will train with you,” Tram suggested.

“No, you will not!” the female protested.

Tram sent her a warning glare. She swallowed audibly and kept her mouth shut.

“I don’t know…” Gohan told him. “Maybe we should ask Piccolo first.”

“I did not figure you for a coward, Gohan,” Tram taunted. “Must you ask Piccolo for permission to strengthen your energy as well?”

“No.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Don’t Gohan,” Chichi pleaded.

“Its okay mom. He won’t hurt me.”

Much, Tram added thoughtfully in silence. The boy had to learn the right way to fight. The only way to teach him was by not holding anything back.

“I-I expect Gohan home before dark!” the woman was saying. Tram admired her bravery. It was not often that someone found the courage to stand up to him…and live. He imagined that Piccolo would get upset if he were to kill his pupil’s mother. He chose to spare her life and exited the domicile. Outside, his keen ears picked up the conversation between mother and son.

“Gohan, be careful,” the woman said.

“Yes, mom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You’re just like your father,” the woman’s voice was trembling with emotion, “careless! Why did Goku have to go and train with that idiot Vegeta? If he was here, he could stop that evil monster from taking my baby away from me!”

“Oh, mom.”

“You just be careful, Gohan. If anything happens to you, I don’t know what I would do!” she began to sob.

What an irritating woman, Tram mused.

When Gohan finally appeared outside, he was dressed in a purple tunic and pants, and a red waistband. He also wore small Namek like boots.

“I’m ready, Mr. Tram,” the boy announced.

“Why do you let her speak to you that way?” Tram asked him.

Gohan smiled at him and replied, “She’s my mom. Moms are supposed to do that.”

Tram supposed that he should count himself lucky for not having a mother. Mothers were apparently irritating.

“Come,” Tram told him and flew into the sky.

Gohan powered up and launched off after him.

*****

Piccolo did not know what had drawn him to the ocean side. He remembered flying over the sea, and then something below had blinded him. He was attacked by someone from behind, hit with a blast of energy that sent him hurtling into the deep. Piccolo had struggled to regain his composure, but the blast had paralyzed him. He sank to the ocean floor like a stone. He fought to hold his breath. The pressure was building inside of him. He could not do it any longer. His mouth opened and his lungs and stomach began to fill with water.

No! No!

{Piccolo!} Nail was struggling as well.

Nail, I can’t move!

{You have to!}

Piccolo tried again. It was useless. He felt himself slipping away. He was dying.

{Call him Piccolo!}

W-What? He was losing consciousness.

{Call Tram!}

Piccolo was blacking out.

{Call him, Piccolo! Call him now!}

Piccolo tried to focus on the image of his mate. He gathered all of his energy and concentrated on sending a message to Tram. His effort exhausted him, and Piccolo soon succumbed to the encroaching darkness.

*****

They had been exchanging energy blasts when Tram was flooded by Piccolo’s waning aura. Tram halted just when Gohan had thrown a fireball at him. The ball harmlessly disintegrated against his chest.

Gohan realized that the Namek was distracted.

“Mr. Tram, what’s wrong?”

“Piccolo is in trouble.”

“Oh, no! We have to save him!”

“We are not doing anything,” Tram snapped. “You are staying here. You will only get in the way. I will rescue Piccolo.”

“But -!”

“Do not contradict me, human!” Tram said sternly.

Gohan frowned up at him angrily. Tram smirked at the boy’s open display of hatred. “There is hope for you yet.”

Gohan watched as Tram flew away. He was worried about Piccolo. What had happened to him?

“Please be okay, Mr. Piccolo.”

*****

He felt cold, and heavy. He could see nothing but darkness.

“Am I dead?”

No, a voice whispered in his ear.

“Nail?”

No.

“Who are you?”

Your new lord and master.

Piccolo tried moving his arms. He couldn’t even feel them.

“Why can’t I see anything?”

You are imprisoned between two dimensions. It makes an adequate holding cell, don’t you think?

Piccolo didn’t understand how it could be possible. He was neither alive nor dead, but he was stuck between two realms. It was bizarre.

“You did this?”

Yes, the voice hissed.

“Why?”

You interest me. I am in need of a new General in my realm. I thought that you would be the perfect candidate.

“What if I were to decline your offer?”

I have other means of coercing you. This was said a little louder. His abductor’s voice was deep and gravelly. It sounded almost demonic.

“I don’t want to be your General.”

It seems that a bit of force is in order.

Suddenly, two wide yellow eyes with tiny black slits stared out of the darkness at him. Piccolo gasped as the eyes flashed with a glaring light. Piccolo could not turn away from the hypnotizing gaze. It was as if his will had been stolen from him. This creature, who ever he was, was taking control of him. He could do nothing.

He attempted to reach Tram once more.

Stop fighting it. It will be over soon. A new life awaits you.

“No…please…” the eyes were overwhelming.

You are my new General.

“No…”

You are my disciple.

“No…no!”

You are the disciple of lord Dabura. The words were filled with such finality that Piccolo knew that it was the end for him. Still, he made one last try to summon help. The only person he could possibly think of getting through to was the one person that he hated the most. He realized that he had no choice.

“Kame…Kame, help me!”

*****

High above the Earth in Kame’s lookout tower, the protector of Earth, wise old Kame himself had been shocked by the level of terror that assailed him. The power signature that was associated with the intense fear was very familiar. It belonged to Piccolo. He cast aside the notion with much doubt. Piccolo would never call upon him. It was against his principles. He hated Kame.

Still…

“Mr. Popo,” Kame summoned his long time friend and servant.

The stout looking genie appeared in an instant. “Yes, Kame?”

“Something does not feel right. Something has shifted in the atmosphere. I do not know what it is. It could be trouble.”

Kame wondered if Piccolo had lost control of his friend once more. The notion was impossible since the potion that he had given him ensured utter loyalty from the drinker. No. This had nothing to do with the super Namek, for even now, Kame could sense his power signature, and it was not surrounded by Piccolo’s own familiar energy.

Kame, help me!

There it was again, Piccolo’s cry for help. Kame hung on to the vestiges of the young Namek’s waning voice. He managed to retain a psychic link with Piccolo, although a very faint one. Kame tried talking to Piccolo. He noted with concern that the younger Namek’s aura was tinged with fear and confusion. Whatever had befallen the proud Piccolo had shaken him a great deal.

“This can’t be…” Kame uttered aloud.

“What is it, Kame?” Mr. Popo asked.

“Piccolo is in the underworld.”

“Are you saying that he’s dead? How can that be? You’re still alive,” Mr. Popo pointed out.

“He’s not dead. Not yet anyway.”

“It is strange.” Popo commented.

“Yes,” Kame agreed. “I feel as if he is in another plane all together.”

“What can we do, Kame?”

Nothing, he said silently. He did not want to worry Mr. Popo, but Piccolo was out of his reach. Kame was at a loss as to what to do to save him.

The important thing was that Piccolo was still alive, but for how long?

*****

Tram was getting edgy. Piccolo had not yet returned. Tram had tried honing in on his energy, but had failed with each attempt. It appeared that Piccolo had disappeared off the face of the planet. Tram was starting to think that Piccolo was dead. The dread that filled him at that thought made him feel powerless. He realized that he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

Without Piccolo, he was no longer whole. How could he survive without his mate? Was he to be doomed to live out the extent of his life on this miserable planet with no one to console him? He would rather die!

Still, the prospect of death did not appeal to him. He wanted to find Piccolo. He had to know what had befallen him. He needed someone who could find the missing Namek. Someone who had a closer bond with Piccolo than he did.

Kame.

Piccolo’s sire came to mind. If anyone knew where Piccolo was, the old Namek did. They were of the same blood. There was a link between them, one that Piccolo abhorred.

Tram honed in on the ancient Namek and turned his head towards the heavens. The old man had better help him. Tram had little patience left.

*****

Piccolo was going mad. The sound of Dabura’s voice echoed in his brain. He could barely think.

“Kame! Damn it!”

Hmmm…who is this Kame? Is he a friend of yours? Well, do not bother calling out to him. In a matter of minutes, you will not even remember his name.

“Get out of my head!”

All right…if you insist.

Suddenly, a figure materialized from the darkness. Piccolo could now feel the being’s energy. An awesome amount of power emanated from him. It was strange, almost other worldly.

The being was taller than Piccolo. His skin was red. His face was long and squared. His chin was covered by a closely cut beard. Horns were sticking out of the top of his head. His eyes were wide and yellow with dark slits. He wore light blue clothing with white boots and a white sash tied around his waist.

“Man, you’re ugly!” Piccolo told him.

Dabura laughed at the Namek’s obvious attempt to hide his fear. “I enjoy your disdain, it amuses me. Perhaps I have found a court jester as well as a General.”

“Dream on, asshole!”

Dabura chuckled. “My, you have such a temper.” He walked over to Piccolo’s restrained body and leaned over him. “I like that.”

“Only a useless coward would use tricks to capture someone rather than fight him!”

“I admit that I cut a few corners in getting you here, but it was all worth it, I assure you. As for your coward remark,” he waved his hand over Piccolo’s body and the Namek’s garments disappeared. “You will learn in time to curb your tongue when you address your master.”

Dabura removed his clothes as well with one gesture. His angry erection drew Piccolo’s attention. Dabura grinned when he saw Piccolo’s alarm. “Where is your bravery now?” he taunted. “I am going to make you mine and there is nothing that you can do about it.”

“You bastard!”

Dabura eased on top of the swearing Namek and wedged his hips between his legs.

“No!”

“Scream if you want,” Dabura suggested. “Please scream.”

He cruelly thrust into the helpless Piccolo. Piccolo cried out in pain. Dabura raped him with no remorse.

He violated Piccolo’s mind and body with his own.

“No!” Piccolo protested, but the demon would not stop. The young Namek could not withstand the dual penetration. He could feel himself being drawn in by the demon’s power. It seduced him, beckoned him to taste the full force of its rage.

“N-No,” his voice cracked as his mind spun with disorder.

Piccolo could no longer fight it. Already, his fear and loathing was disappearing.

He whispered another protest, this one fainter than the last. As the demon drove into him, his mind grew cloudy, vague. One image alone still dominated his thoughts.

“Tram…” he muttered futilely.

“No,” Dabura told him. “Master Dabura.”

The demon’s words interrupted Piccolo’s waning thoughts and made the image of the super Namek fade away. Piccolo panicked. “What have you done?”

“You will no longer think of that fool,” Dabura hissed into his ear. “I am your master. You will give your devotion to me and only me.”

Piccolo struggled to be free of his control, but it was impossible. Dabura’s strength was unbelievable. His relentless invasion into Piccolo was devastating. Throughout his ordeal, the demon spoke. He told Piccolo that he belonged to him and that he should forget his other life. His words soon became an enthralling mantra; a subliminal spell that brought out something in the Namek that he thought had been buried for many years. His darker personality, the one that had plotted his revenge on Goku and the world, had emerged. Somehow, Dabura had shaped him, bound him to his own specifications. He made him more agreeable and loyal to Dabura and only Dabura.

The Piccolo that called Gohan his student and Goku his friend was gone. Dabura’s hypnotic manipulations made Piccolo evil, and deviant. The abnormality began immediately when the Namek’s insane laughter penetrated the darkness and literally melted it away. The two of them were suddenly within what resembled a chamber. They lay on a wide, canopied bed draped in black velvet. The large bed was covered with blood red sheets.

Dabura continued to take his new minion. He slid his hands up Piccolo’s arms. They were thrown out on either side of the bed. He slid his hands over Piccolo’s and they locked. He strained against the green being beneath him, keeping his hard yellow gaze on him.

“You are mine,” he stated with triumph.

“Yes, master Dabura,” Piccolo said without hesitation. “I know no other master.”

“Of course not.” Dabura grinned and let the pleasure of his slender follower’s body finally consume him. He spilled his seed into his young henchman and collapsed against him. The Namek’s arms came around him.

Dabura stiffened as he felt the creature’s fangs pierce his throat. Piccolo sucked greedily at the gush of purple blood.

“Already you are turning into a demon,” Dabura noted with approval. “Good.”

The change had never come this quickly for his former General. The kitsune, Shadros, had fought him for over a month before the effects had taken control of him. Shadros had been one of his greatest obsessions. Nevertheless, centuries later his obsession for the kitsune had worn thin. It was by chance that he had been looking in on the dimension called Earth when he saw the young Namek. It had been no challenge for Dabura to probe the green creature’s mind and see all of his past. He had seen Piccolo’s malevolence and strength. Dabura was instantly enamored with the reluctant protector’s troubled spirit. He had wasted no time in getting the Earthling to his domain.

“You are immortal now,” he told his new servant of darkness. “I have given you that gift.”

Piccolo stopped feeding to utter, “Thank you, master.”

“However, the gift comes with a price.”

“What price, master?”

“You must do as I bid you and destroy whatever I want destroyed. You must kill whoever I want killed,” he paused, “and finally, you must never disappoint me. I do like you, my little disciple, but I can be quite nasty when I am displeased.”

“I will do my best to please you, lord Dabura.”

“Yes,” Dabura smirked. “You will.”

*****

It was no surprise to Tram to find that Kame was waiting for him when he arrived at the lookout tower. The old Namekian had sensed his approach. Tram found the extrasensory talent of his to be irritating.

Kame glowered at him, clearly not pleased with his presence. Tram had the nagging feeling that he was also not pleased with his relationship with Piccolo. But the old man’s feelings were of no concern to Tram. He had not come to socialize and win the respect of his mate’s relative. He had come for Piccolo and nothing else.

“Where is he?” he asked, disregarding formality in the presence of an elder.

“He is in the underworld, but not the underworld of Earth.”

“What are you saying, old man? That he is in some kind of dimension?”

Kame nodded.

“How could it have happened without my knowledge? Piccolo and I are closely linked.”

“I too share a link with him and I did not sense this danger until it was too late. Whatever took him into that dimension must be extremely powerful.”

“That I have already gathered,” Tram snapped. “The question is how do we get him back?”

Kame lowered his gaze and sighed. Surely, the super Namek would not like what he had to say. “This I do not know.”

Tram snarled at him in anger, “You are as useless as a human. No wonder Piccolo hates you.”

“Think what you wish,” Kame told him. “I do know that the only way that Piccolo can return is if he chooses to.”

“What if he is unable to? Have you ever thought of that?”

Kame nodded and replied, “I have, but the fact remains that it is up to Piccolo to save himself.”

“This is foolish,” Tram hissed. “I will not stay here and do nothing! You will get me to him or I will kill you!”

“Do you really think that killing me will accomplish anything?”

“I don’t know,” Tram answered. “Let’s find out.”

He approached the elder Namek, an angry scowl on his face. He had had enough of the old Namekian.

Kame raised his hand, halting the irrational young male. “No need for such hostility, Tram. I see that Piccolo neglected to tell you about the bond that connects us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you kill me, Piccolo will die as well. It works both ways.”

Kame’s revelation made Tram think. Was the old Namekian lying? Why would he lie? “I do not believe you.”

“You would put your mate’s life in jeopardy just to silence an irritating old man?”

The thought of Piccolo dying made his chest ache.

“No,” Tram said. “I would never want to hurt Piccolo.”

“Nor would I.”

Tram dropped his shoulders in defeat. He felt hopeless. What good was it being a super Namek when his powers could not even take him to Piccolo? He clenched his fists in anger and made a silent promise. Who ever had taken Piccolo away from him would pay…with their life.

*****

Dabura was moved by his new disciple’s ruthlessness. In the past several days, Piccolo had shown Dabura that he had a thirst for destruction that rivaled his own. It was quite an attractive feature.

“Lord Dabura,” the Namek bowed to him in respect. “I have taken hold of the northern quadrant as you have requested. I am at your service to seize another region.”

Look at him. He is trembling with the need to destroy and wreak havoc. He is a fine servant of the dark.

“My lord,” the Namek’s voice pleaded with him to allow him to continue his brutal siege upon the dimension called Arnyx.

Dabura could smell the adrenaline that rushed through his General’s veins. The scent aroused him. “Arnyx can wait. Come to me,” he ordered.

Piccolo approached him without hesitation and leaned forward to kiss his evil lord. Dabura stopped him before their lips could touch. “No, you must never try to kiss me. You will be turned to stone.”

The Namek thought about what he had said for a moment then grinned. “Perhaps one day I will take the chance, my lord.”

“No, you will not. You are far too vital to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Piccolo licked along the length of Dabura’s exposed chest. He pushed down the puffed blue sleeves of his master’s tunic, freeing his arms. The raw strength in the lord of the underworld was staggering.

Piccolo laved at one of his master’s nipples. It quickly hardened into a peak. Dabura moaned and cupped the back of his servant’s head. Piccolo rolled the red pebble of flesh around with the tip of his tongue. He grazed the tiny nodule with his teeth, and then sank his fangs into Dabura. Dabura cried out in ecstasy. He arched his back and closed his eyes as Piccolo sucked the purple lifeblood from his body. The act made Dabura mad with passion, but it was over all too soon. Piccolo sat back on his heels and licked his lips free of the last remnants of blood. Two thin streams of purple liquid trickled down Dabura’s fresh wound. Piccolo eagerly lapped it up, and then probed at the tiny twin holes with his tongue.

Piccolo’s penchant for blood had risen since he had become an agent of the dark lord. Blood was like a drug for him. He couldn’t get enough of it. He loved to see it. He loved to touch it. He loved to taste it. When Piccolo went out on missions for lord Dabura, there was no question that the strike zones that he visited would be buried in blood. He loved to kill and to hurt. It was what he took pleasure from the most.

Dabura stopped him when his licks became too painful. The wounds were not bleeding any more. Piccolo pinched the hard nipple and gave it one last lick.

“Your mouth is needed elsewhere,” Dabura whispered.

Piccolo smiled and undid his master’s pants. Dabura’s rigid member sprung free in all of its red glory. Piccolo took the swollen shaft into his hand and gave it a few jerks before he took it into his mouth. Dabura released a rush of air from his lungs as Piccolo’s warm, wet mouth caressed him.

Even while he was being subjugated to such pleasure, Dabura felt another presence in his chambers. He focused on a shadow behind one of the ancient torture racks and realized for the first time that Shadros had been watching them.

The fool, Dabura thought. When will he understand that he is no longer needed here?

“How dare you interrupt me?” Dabura told him. Piccolo continued to pleasure him, indifferent to the fact that Dabura’s former General was within the room.

“Master Dabura. I can still be of assistance to you. Why must you let this creature service you?” Shadros asked his soft, yet throaty voice failing to produce the tantalizing ripples that they had often created down Dabura’s back.

Dabura had lost interest in the raven haired, violet-eyed kitsune. His hungers ran to a new being. Piccolo was his obsession now. There was no room in his heart for the pretty fox.

“Leave us,” Dabura commanded.

“Do not do this, my lord,” Shadros pleaded.

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Shadros gasped at Dabura’s outburst. Dabura had never once yelled at him. Not even if he had failed a mission. The fact that his master had shouted at him sealed his fate. Dabura did not want him any more and Shadros had been replaced.

The tall, lean kitsune stared daggers at the bobbing head of Dabura’s new, young disciple. He hated this Piccolo for ruining his life. Shadros made a promise to himself that he would make the green bastard suffer.

He dissolved into the wall and stood outside of the hallway to lord Dabura’s chambers. Through the large, ornate, double doors, he could hear his former master’s exultant cries as he reached his completion. Anger swelled within him.

“So you are from Earth. There must be someone there you left behind. Someone important,” he reasoned, “someone who means more to you than anything else. I will make you pay for usurping me…with their life.”

*****

It had been many years since the kitsune had set foot on Earth. He had been taken into lord Dabura’s army at a young age, when the world was still primitive and new. His family was long since dead. Any remaining ancestors were too far removed to look up. In essence, he was a mere stranger in this world.

“Hey, you, get out of the road!”

Shadros looked at the odd metal vehicle that had nearly plowed right into him. He did not like the way that the vehicle’s driver was gesturing towards him. The fat, imposing finger thrust into the air seemed offensive somehow. Shadros frowned and kicked the metal nuisance a good fifty yards into the forest. The screaming passenger was a bonus in his twisted estimation.

Shadros ascended into the air and followed the winding road. Within ten minutes, he was over a densely populated area, a city. Shadros took human form and landed just outside of the town. He walked the rest of the way to the city and took in the sights.

During the course of his exploration, he found himself being targeted by giggling females. They followed him about blushing profusely and staring at him. Shadros found this habit to be quite irritating. He was tempted to send them to the next dimension, but he did not want to draw too much attention to himself. Instead, he entered a concrete structure called Radnor’s Gym. He was surprised to find that the building held a number of various metal equipments that resembled torture devices. What was even more surprising was the fact that many of the torture devices were being put to use by large, bulging males. Shadros could not fathom why the humans would torment their selves on such substandard devices.

Shadros walked around the vast torture room and stared at several specimens that struggled to lift a heavily weighted bar over their heads. He did not see the reason for it. The activity only made the men sweat profusely and turn red with the effort of lifting the object. Shadros watched the humans for several minutes before he decided to take a turn at the strange practice. He bent over and picked up one of the weighted bars with one hand. He easily lifted it over his head. The other humans put down their equipment and stared at Shadros in shock. They muttered amongst themselves, attracting other males to the exhibition.

“No way could a little twerp like that lift that much!” someone argued. “It’s a trick!”

Shadros picked up another weighted bar with his other hand and held both of them up high. “Why do you bother lifting these things?” he asked the men. “Is it some kind of game?”

“This guy can’t be real!”

Shadros set both of the objects down and left his gawking audience to examine the other equipment. He was watching a human struggle with lifting another weighted bar, but this time, while he was perched on his back on a bench. But he was soon drawn to another human. The male was standing in one corner of the room. He had wild black hair and wore a white shirt and black sweat pants. When Shadros neared him, he saw that the male was in the company of a small blue animal, a cat.

“That’s it, Yamcha!” the cat cheered him on. “You’ll be stronger than Vegeta in no time!”

“Will you stop aiming so high!” the human snapped. “You know that there is no way that I’ll ever be able to beat him.”

“Oh, come on, Yamcha. Don’t think like that,” the cat patted him on his shoulder. It was hovering in mid air. Shadros was astounded.

“Face it, Puar, I’m washed up. Goku and Vegeta are in another class all of their own. Even Piccolo manages to keep up with them.”

Piccolo, Shadros focused on his successor’s name. The human knows Piccolo.

“I might as well go back to playing baseball,” the male called Yamcha said.

“That’s not a bad idea,” the cat told him softly.

The human grumbled and slammed his fist into a stuffed leather column that hung from the ceiling. The force of the human’s punch sent the column rocking on its chain and left a deep indentation in the leather.

“Stupid Vegeta!” he punched the column again. “Why did he have to come to Earth in the first place?”

He released three quick jabs in succession. The punches were lightning fast.

“He’s ruined my life!” a sequence of hits to the column made it dance on its chain until the leather burst open, spraying its sand filled innards all over the mat.

“Oh, oh,” the cat, Puar stared at the mess.

Shadros came forward and studied the human. He realized that the male had scars on his face. One was a thin line that ran vertically from his right eyebrow to his cheek. The other was a large X on his left cheek. Shadros found himself wondering who had given him those scars. He must have been speculating for quite some time, because the human, Yamcha, caught him staring at him.

“I’ll pay for the damages,” Yamcha told him.

Shadros blinked. Yamcha took his reaction as a sign of disbelief.

“Hey, I’m good for it.”

Shadros gazed blankly at him.

Yamcha crossed his muscular arms and took in the slender form of Shadros. “You don’t work here,” he noticed.

“No,” Shadros answered him.

Puar flew over to him and rudely sniffed him.

“Puar!” Yamcha scolded.

“It is all right,” Shadros said.

The cat finished sniffing him and landed on his shoulder, purring loudly. Yamcha did not know what to think. The cat’s sudden behavior was so unlike Puar.

Yamcha studied the young man. He looked normal enough. He was a bit fragile looking, but Yamcha supposed that not everyone was built to handle strenuous activity.

“What’s your name, kid?”

His question took Shadros by surprise. He thinks that I am a boy. It almost made him laugh aloud. He restrained his amusement and said, “Shadros.”

“I’m Yamcha.” He extended a hand to him. Shadros looked at the human’s hand. It was rough, calloused. It was a clear indication that the human was a fighter.

Shadros shook his hand.

“You smell really nice,” Puar said.

“Thank you,” Shadros smiled.

“Pardon my friend’s manners. She isn’t normally like this. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“We’re going to get something to eat later. Do you want to come with us?” Puar asked.

“PUAR!”

“I’d love to,” Shadros replied before Yamcha could protest.

Yamcha gave him an uneasy smile.

Shadros’ eyes twinkled with mirth. The human did not know what he was in for.

*****

Piccolo looked into his master’s viewing portal and stiffened as he saw a familiar green-skinned being. The creature was within the dimension that his master had forbidden him to venture into, the dimension known as Earth. He was standing near a pool of water and appeared to be in deep reverie.

The strange creature stimulated Piccolo’s curiosity because he had dreamed of the beast. He had never revealed this secret to his master. For in his dreams, he was always intimate with the handsome creature. He was determined to speak to the being. He wanted to know why the creature’s image haunted him so.

Defying master Dabura, something he had professed that he would never do, he stepped into the portal and found himself standing before the large, brawny creature.

Almost immediately, Piccolo’s senses cued in on a particularly dark power. The kitsune, Shadros, was here. Piccolo could feel his energy signature. He wondered what had drawn the little scamp to this dimension. Piccolo reasoned that perhaps Shadros had thought to win back the affections of their master. What Shadros did not realize was that master Dabura was fascinated by this world and did not intend to destroy it any time soon.

“Piccolo,” the green being stared at him in surprise. “You have returned.”

Piccolo tilted his head in interest. “You know my name. How is it that I do not know you?”

The taller creature visibly stiffened at his remark. “You do not remember me? What has happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Piccolo took in the creature’s obvious strength. “I am as I have always been. Who are you?”

“I am your mate, Tram.”

Piccolo chuckled. “My mate,” he repeated. “I have no mate.”

Anger flashed within the creature’s green eyes. Piccolo grinned. He was a temperamental beast. It would be fun to fight with him. He briefly wondered how the being’s blood would taste on his tongue.

“Tell you what, Tram,” he leaned against a smooth round boulder. “If you fight with me and win, I will concede to this nonsense that I am your mate.”

“You are my mate.”

Piccolo ignored him and continued, “if you lose, then I will have the pleasure of… tasting you.” He licked his lips.

Tram’s antennae twitched in response. Piccolo laughed.

The fool! He doesn’t know what he is up against!

“I don’t want to hurt you, little dragon.”

“You really should try. It is the only chance that you’ll have of beating me.”

Tram frowned and said, “We’ll see.”

Piccolo charged up and smirked when his opponent felt his power. Being a servant of master Dabura came with certain advantages. Immortality and a substantial increase in power were just a few rewards from the demon lord.

“Scared?” he asked the larger being.

“Of you?” He charged up. His oppressive energy literally pushed back at Piccolo’s, stunning the demonic disciple. “No.” He stepped forward and Piccolo could feel his own power being absorbed by the intense force. “For you? Yes.”

He began to panic. He did not understand what was going on. Why was this simple Earth creature displaying powers beyond that of his own? Lord Dabura had assured him that there would be no one equal to his newly gained control. Had the dark lord of the underworld lied?

No! He refused to believe it.

In his panic, he questioned the being, shamefully revealing to him his shock and sudden fear. “How are you doing this?”

Tram raised a hand towards him and a ball of yellow light formed in his hand. It spun and hovered about an inch above his palm. Piccolo saw it as some sort of an attack and braced himself for it. Nevertheless, in a blink of an eye, the ball had been released and he was not prepared for it. He raised his arms up over his face to defend the on coming blow and gasped in surprise as the ball split into five rings before impact. The rings attached to his wrists, neck and ankles and tightened each time he struggled.

Tram walked towards him and instructed him, “Stop fighting, Picoo.”

Piccolo struggled harder.

“I said stop fighting. If you continue, the rings will burn through your flesh.”

Piccolo was incensed that this creature had successfully beaten him and without much of a battle. The thing that riled him the most was that there had been no battle to begin with.

“I said stop it!” Tram struck him across his face to get his attention.

The infuriated Piccolo hissed at him and gritted out, “How did you do it, how?”

Tram powered down, but kept the rings on his smaller captive. “I told you, you are my mate. We are forever linked. Because of this, it is quite easy to borrow one another’s abilities.”

“I have no such ability!” Piccolo argued, referring to the rings that were indeed scorching his flesh each time he resisted.

“The rings are of my creation. I made them by absorbing some of your power,” Tram further explained.

“Release me at once!” Piccolo said furiously.

“Not yet. I suspect that you have much to tell me about where you were, little dragon.” Tram crossed his arms and scowled. “You may start by telling me who took you from me.”

*****

Shadros was having an excellent time. The human Yamcha and his companion Puar were both quite entertaining. He had never enjoyed himself so much in centuries. The prospect of remaining on Earth seemed more fruitful than returning to Dabura’s realm.

Shadros had been staying at Yamcha’s place for several days. It had all come about that first day when he had met the human and his cat companion. After they had eaten lunch, Puar had insisted that she and Yamcha walk him home. Shadros had informed them that he had no home. Yamcha had not found that strange. In fact, at the prompting of Puar, he suggested that Shadros should stay with him at his place.

“Until you get a place of your own,” he had quickly added.

Well, Shadros did have the ability to create his own domicile, but the prospect of staying with Yamcha was too much to pass up.

He could not explain why, but the vain and arrogant human interested him. Yamcha obviously liked to hear his own voice, so he talked about himself often. Shadros did not mind. It allowed him some time to observe the scarred yet handsome human.

In all the time that he spent with Puar and Yamcha, not once did Shadros think of the hated Piccolo and his master Dabura. Not until the day when Yamcha was explaining to him about the fine art of baseball and he felt a surge of power that greatly rivaled his own. The energy signal, though unfamiliar, was spiked with dark power –master Dabura’s dark power.

Piccolo, Shadros thought.

It was strange. The anger that Shadros had carried for Piccolo the day that he had been relieved of his position , no longer raged to the surface. Shadros did not understand why. He had loved master Dabura. He had worshipped the demon lord. But if that was so, then why didn’t he bristle at the thought of Piccolo on Earth doing his master’s will?

“Hey, Earth to Shadros.” Yamcha waved his hand in front of his face.

Shadros blinked once to focus on the dark haired human and felt him self blush crimson. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“I told you that he doesn’t want to hear about the fight that you had with the umpire,” Puar said and settled on Shadros’ shoulder.

“No, please. I’m listening,” Shadros told him and gave him his utmost attention. Piccolo’s presence in this dimension would have to wait.

*****

A week had passed since Piccolo’s return. Tram still kept up his vigil, scanning the skies for the creature named Dabura. Tram had told Kame of Piccolo’s revelation. Kame had no inclination as to who Dabura was and they had no choice but to believe what Piccolo had said. The creature was the lord of the underworld and had made Piccolo his demonic disciple. Kame reasoned that if this were so, then Dabura would make an appearance to reclaim his servant.

“If he does not appear, then Piccolo was no more than a conquest for him,” Kame had said.

“What about his state? Will he stay like this forever?”

“It is quite possible. Only Dabura can undo what he has wrought.”

Dabura. The name made Tram boil with anger. He had hoped that the dark lord would come for Piccolo. Then, Tram would have shown him what it was like to face a real demon.

He turned his gaze towards the cave where Piccolo was kept. Tram had cleverly pinned him to the wall with the rings of energy. Demonic Piccolo had not liked it at all, but he had little choice in the matter as far as Tram was concerned.

The surge of affection that the super Namek felt for Piccolo was immense. But each time the smaller Namek opened his mouth, he reminded Tram that the spiteful creature was not his Picoo. Still, Tram found himself touching the demon, giving him loving caresses, all of which the demon did not object to.

He brushed his knuckles across Piccolo’s cheek and groaned as he saw the tell tale bulge in the smaller Namek’s pants. It had been so long since they were together. The prospect of taking him now while he stood helpless seemed more appealing to him by the minute. His own obvious arousal drew his captive’s gaze.

“This body knows you well,” Piccolo said.

“It should,” Tram told him.

“You are quite strong, beast. Why don’t you join my master’s army? I will be very… grateful if you do.”

“Why would I help someone else conquer this planet when I can conquer it for myself?” Tram told him.

“You are an arrogant bastard. I like that.” He licked his lips. “Release me.”

“No.”

Piccolo’s eyes turned bright yellow. He stared at Tram and said in an otherworldly voice, “Release me now!”

Tram’s eyes narrowed. “You honestly think that I can be entranced by your pathetic lord’s paltry tricks?”

The shock of his failure made Piccolo roar out in anger. “Release me at once!”

“Not a chance.”

Demonic Piccolo made such a big uproar that the birds in the forest were scared into flight.

Tram struck the belligerent demon across his face and told him, “Shut up.”

Blood trickled from the corner of the demon’s mouth. Piccolo slowly licked at the purple stream.

“Mmmm…” his eyes filled with lust.

Tram looked at him in disbelief. No, this was not his mate. This was a monster. A monster had stolen his mate’s body.

Piccolo saw the disgust on Tram’s face and laughed. Tram turned his back on him and watched the horizon. The sun was setting. This Dabura had not appeared to claim his disciple. Perhaps Kame had been right. Piccolo was expendable to the lord of the underworld. Still, Tram was furious. If Dabura did not show up, Piccolo would remain a demon. Tram dreaded this.

“I have dreamt about you…”

The demon’s admission caught his attention.

“I just didn’t know who you were.”

Tram made no reply.

“That didn’t stop me from wanting to find you. Lord Dabura knew nothing of it. If he had, he wouldn’t have allowed me to come to this dimension.”

Tram absorbed his words. Piccolo, the real Piccolo, was still inside of the demon. He had dreamt of him and had looked for him, not knowing why he had to. The link that they shared, the ritual bond, had drawn him to him. However, demonic Piccolo had not been aware of that. All he knew was that he had to find Tram. He had trusted his instincts and they had brought him here.

“Picoo,” he said affectionately.

“Yes.”

“I searched all over this wretched planet for you.”

“The search is over. I am here. Now, release me,” Piccolo urged him.

Tram took a step towards him. “Tell me something, Picoo. Are you finally going to join me in taking over this filthy planet?”

Piccolo smiled and answered, “Yes. We will kill everyone who dares to oppose us.”

“Including that weakling Gohan,” Tram added.

“Especially him,” Piccolo agreed.

Tram crossed his arms and frowned at him. “I will not release you.”

“What,” the smaller Namek said in disbelief, “why not?”

“Piccolo would never harm Gohan. Nor would he want to conquer this planet.”

The demon sneered and told him, “I do not like this Piccolo of yours. He sounds like a real bore.”

Tram growled at him.

“Return me to my master at once!”

In a blink of an eye, Tram appeared before him and caught one of the demon’s antennae in his hand. He ruthlessly squeezed the appendage and increased his hold on it when the demon begged for mercy.

“Not another word out of you,” he said coldly. “Or I will rip it off.”

The demon nodded in compliance and lowered his head in fear as Tram released his sensitive feeler. The demon enjoyed the pain of others, not his own, but a dominant master like lord Dabura had always won his praise. It was with much difficulty that he hid his admiration for the harsh green beast. He did not want to upset the creature any further. Master Dabura would be quite displeased if he found his new general overly bruised.

*****

The fool! Why had he not listened? Now he was with that thing. Dabura had half a mind to leave him there, but his pride would not allow it. He had captured the Namek for his own, and what was his remained his. He would annihilate the large green beast then, obliterate the bothersome dimension known as Earth.

*****

Tram’s ears twitched as he sensed a tremor in the air. He disappeared before the demonic Piccolo and watched in stealth as a large red being appeared at the mouth of the cave.

“Master Dabura!” Piccolo yelled out to his dark lord, warning him of the impending trap. It was already too late. The green beast had suddenly appeared before Dabura and had breathed out a blast of intense yellow energy from his mouth. The blast forced Dabura to seek a higher altitude. Tram followed him, leaving Piccolo behind.

“No!” Piccolo struggled to be free of his restraints, but the energy rings that bound him were too strong. They cut into his flesh.

In the midst of his attack, Tram could hear Piccolo’s cries. It pained him that Piccolo was so concerned with the well-being of another. Although Tram knew that the creature below was not truly Piccolo, it still hurt to know that he had given himself to the detestable Dabura. Tram let his anger for the red demon come to the forefront.

“You will turn Piccolo back to normal, or you will die,” he told the dark lord.

Dabura laughed. “You must be joking.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Tram showed his fangs.

Dabura’s eye twitched. It would be so easy to turn the annoying being into stone, but he wanted to hurt him first. He wanted to teach him a lesson for coming between him and his young General.

“You will regret the day that you crossed paths with me!” Dabura lunged after him. His charge pushed the equally proportioned Namek backwards.

Tram had blocked the move, but it was clear to him that Dabura possessed a substantial amount of power. He would have to employ all of his tactics to defeat him.

Tram made two clones of him self and rushed the demon lord. Dabura smirked and waited until the first Namek was upon him before he let loose a projectile of saliva. The spit hit the first clone on his left shoulder. Upon its impact, the area began to petrify. One of the clone Nameks fired laser beams at the infected clone. The clone’s shoulder and arm where the stone had spread had been cut away from his body. The tactic gave the clone an opportunity to grow back his missing limb. However, Dabura was on the attack and he let loose another stream of spit. The injured clone moved sharply out of its way. The offending projectile landed on the ground below.

Dabura’s laughter filled the air.

“I’ve had enough of you,” All three Nameks uttered before firing a volley of fireballs after the demon lord. Dabura dodged most of them. A few of them were dispersed when he crossed his arms in front of his face as a shield. Tram and his clones used the opportunity to charge the unsuspecting demon. They came at him from all sides. One caught him across the face with a right hook; the other landed him a blow to the ribs and the third kneed him in the back.

Dabura opened his mouth and blasted the Namek before him with blinding hot, yellow energy. The Namek flew back out of the blast, its clothes smoldering. He used his ki to renew his garments and then jumped back into the fray.

Dabura was ready for him and darted downwards pulling one of the other clones along with him. He held on tight to the struggling replica as he plunged towards the earth.

Tram watched from above and yelled down at his duplicate, “Implode!”

The duplicate performed the task without hesitation, destroying itself and sending a plume of smoke in all directions. “Close in,” he commanded his other copy. They both descended on the thick cloud of smoke. Tram could not sense the demon’s power. A sign of success, surely, but Tram knew it to be a guise. He himself was a master at hiding his own powers when it was necessary enough to do so.

“Show yourself, demon!”

“Gladly.”

The voice had come from behind. Tram turned just as the demon spit at him. The projectile would have caught him had Tram’s clone not stepped in the way and taken the blow in his stead. The clone cried out in pain as his body turned to stone. Tram made an effort to cut the infected part of his duplicate’s body off, but Dabura rushed him, throwing lightning fast fists at him. He could do nothing but block the angry blows and watch as his duplicate hardened into a statue and fell to the earth below.

Dabura laughed and told him, “Surely with your companions gone you are as weak as a babe.”

“On the contrary…” Tram opened his mouth wide and blasted Dabura with raw energy. The demon cried out as the heat singed him. Tram pulled back his fist and slammed it hard into the demon’s face. The power behind the punch threw the underworld lord into the jagged wall of a cliff. Chunks of the cliff broke apart and fell on to the demon, burying him beneath a mountain of rock.

Tram flew down to the ground to await the demon. He was trying to keep the bastard alive, for Piccolo’s sake, but it was proving to be a difficult task. He hated him and his hate demanded retribution.

“Are you going to stay beneath there forever?” he asked loudly.

A slab of rock moved. It was tossed aside. Dabura rose from the rubble. The dark lord could barely stand. His left ear was sliced from Tram’s blast. His right arm hung limply by his side. Blood seeped from his eyes and his face was covered with burns.

“It is over for you, demon. Return Piccolo back to normal,” Tram ordered.

“Never. He belongs to me. He loves the darkness. He is infatuated with it, just as I am infatuated with him,” Dabura said. “He is such a good little General. Yes…when this battle between us is over, I shall have him tend to me…in more ways than one.”

The demon laughed wickedly. Tram stared at him with contempt. He hated the image of Piccolo and this creature together. He wished that he could finish the demon off, but doing that would be foolhardy.

“He is an insatiable thing. I grow hard just thinking about him.”

“Shut up.”

“Such a nice mouth…”

“I said shut up!”

Dabura grinned. “I can see why you are willing to die for him. Surely, you can find another creature to satisfy your taste. Give me my disciple and I promise you that I will never come to this dimension again.”

“I care nothing for this planet,” Tram informed him. “My one and only concern is Piccolo.”

“How touching,” Dabura scoffed.

“I grow tired of you, demon.”

“You will not kill me,” Dabura goaded.

“No, but I can make you wish that you were dead,” Tram threatened.

A great noise cracked the air, making Dabura wince. The Namek’s clothing ruffled as if a strong breeze had stirred it, but Dabura felt no such wind upon him. A coil of blue energy spun in the palm of Tram’s hand. Dabura watched it as if mesmerized. The coil spun faster and faster. It grew, and changed into a sphere. Random strings of energy crackled around it, like lightening.

Dabura saw no harm in it. “An impressive little light show,” he hissed.

Tram released the energy sphere, letting it pass over a sapling. The tree deteriorated instantly, turning to ash.

Dabura cringed at the deadly demonstration and decided that it was time to call for reinforcement.

*****

Yamcha had offered to teach him how to play baseball and he had gladly accepted. He had just gotten used to catching Yamcha’s lightning fast throws when Dabura’s command had reached him.

The sudden desperation that assailed him caused him to drop the leather catcher’s mitt that he had been holding.

“Master Dabura, you are here?” he asked aloud, disregarding Yamcha and Puar’s confusion.

Come at once! I need you!

There was a time when Dabura’s orders would have made him drop everything at once and rush to his aid, but that had been before he had met the intriguing Yamcha. Shadros also had not forgotten how Dabura had callously tossed him aside.

“No.”

What?

“I no longer work for you.”

“Huh?” Yamcha and Puar exchanged looks.

You ungrateful little whelp!

“Are you having trouble with your new pet? Well, too bad. Leave me alone. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

You will pay for this! Dabura threatened, but already, Shadros had shut him out.

“Shadros, are you all right?” Yamcha asked in concern.

“I am fine…now.” He retrieved his catcher’s mitt and prompted, “Lets see if you can throw any faster.”

Yamcha grinned smugly and showed him just how fast he could pitch.

*****

The orb was approaching at a faster velocity. It seemed that the Namek could control the sphere’s speed. Dabura’s eyes widened in fear. The orb was almost upon him. The creature was mad. He meant to kill him even if it meant risking his companion’s restoration.

“You are crazy!” Dabura claimed. “Don’t be stupid!”

“Then give me what I want.”

“I can’t!”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

Dabura shouted his frustration to the sky. Why couldn’t the Namek just disappear? Better yet…

The thought came to Dabura like a shock. He grinned at his sudden inspiration. The laughter that escaped him shook his body with mirth.

The fool!

He felt a brief brush from the sphere, a most painful encounter, before he vanished from his rocky prison. He reappeared near the cave where his disciple was held and he quickly entered it.

“Master Dabura!” his young General strained against his bonds at the sight of him.

Dabura concentrated his energy on the glowing rings and dispelled them.

Piccolo rushed to his aid. “We should return home at once. You are injured.”

“No. I want that thing dead,” the demon lord snarled.

“But master-”

“NOW!”

There was no time for Piccolo to protest his master’s order because the green beast had returned. As Piccolo watched him, a shudder ran down his spine. The beast had an aura about him that just spoke of his power. He was not the type of creature that one would want to upset. Piccolo already knew that first hand.

The Namek’s eyes bored into him. Piccolo felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

Picoo.

The voice resounded in his head. Piccolo was startled. They were somehow linked.

It’s not possible, he thought.

Only Dabura could communicate with him that way. Still, through this impossible link, he could feel Tram’s rage, hurt, and desire. The emotions were all focused on Piccolo.

“Why?” he said aloud, wanting to understand. “Why do you even care?”

I cannot bear to live another moment on this wretched planet without you, Picoo, Tram told him. We belong together.

“Kill him!” Dabura urged. “Kill him now!”

Piccolo tried to move, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Something kept holding him back. His sudden aversion to destruction confused him. Master Dabura had given him an order and his body could not follow through with it. No. It did not want to follow through with it.

Perplexed and frightened, he turned to master Dabura for guidance. “Master?”

“Kill him, you fool!” Spittle flew from Dabura’s mouth, he was so livid. His eyes flashed at Piccolo in anger. Piccolo saw that it was deep-rooted hatred.

He tried one more time to make his master see reason. “Master Dabura, we should return home.”

“You weak, imbecile! I should kill you where you stand!” Dabura shoved him. “You creatures from Earth are all the same, useless!”

Dabura raised a fist towards him, his hand glowing bright yellow. Piccolo recognized it as a deathblow. He had seen his lord use it on a number of beings within his realm. The energy that it took to perform the feat took all of the demon’s strength. Each use left his energy reserves depleted, causing Dabura to rest for a number of hours. The fact that Dabura was going to use the fatal strike on him shattered all that Piccolo thought he had felt for the demon lord.

Piccolo screamed out his rage and slammed his fist into Dabura’s chest. Dabura cried out in pain, his eyes widening in shock at the sudden turn of events. Piccolo, driven by his anger, channeled his ki into his hand, and burned a ragged opening straight through the demon’s cold heart.

“Picoo, no!” Tram rushed forward and pulled the demon free of Piccolo. Dabura fell to the cave floor. Wisps of smoke rose from the gaping cavity in his chest.

The demon was still alive. He coughed up purple colored blood, his eyes glassed over with pain.

Tram stood over the demon lord and demanded, “Free him.”

Dabura stared past him, looking at his traitorous follower. “You do belong to him. But I will never let you go.”

“You bastard!” Tram trembled in fury.

Dabura laughed. The cave filled with his garbled cackle, but it was soon silenced when Dabura choked on his own blood. Tram could do nothing but watch as the demon’s life faded away. When the creature breathed his last frantic breath, Piccolo dropped lifelessly to the floor.

The cave and the forest rumbled with Tram’s pain filled cry.

*****

Shadros felt his master’s passing. The demon lord’s death brought much relief for the kitsune. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The power of it all made his knees weak and he crumpled to the ground. Yamcha dropped his baseball and glove and ran to his side, Puar not far behind.

“Shadros, what’s wrong?” Yamcha did not wait for an answer. He began touching Shadros’ forehead, checking for his temperature.

Shadros stared up at him in wonder. He could see Yamcha’s concern. He knew it to be genuine. The human actually cared about Shadros’ well being.

“Do you need a doctor? Puar, go get a doctor!” he yelled when Puar was right next to him, looking Just as worried.

“I told you that it was too hot outside!” Puar complained. “Now you made him catch heatstroke!”

“PUAR!” Yamcha shouted a warning. “Lets not talk about this right now –and why aren’t you getting the doctor?”

“No, I don’t need a doctor,” Shadros told them.

“Are you sure?”

Shadros colored at Yamcha’s persistence. The human’s hands were still upon him, and it made speaking and thinking quite a task.

“Shadros?” Yamcha pressed.

“I-I’m fine. Really.”

“I think that we should go home,” Yamcha suggested.

“Don’t worry, Shadros,” the little cat patted his cheek. “When we get home, Yamcha will make you some tea.”

Yamcha blushed crimson at the cat’s impudence and yelled out, “PUAR!”

Shadros smiled and said, “Yes, let’s go home.”

*****

Dabura’s body disappeared. Tram feared that Piccolo’s would vanish as well. He gathered his mate close to him and cursed the demon lord for meddling with their lives. All that he had cared about was gone. His little dragon was dead.

Tram felt as if his heart was tearing apart. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. Never since he was a child had he ever cried. But the tears came unbidden. The strain of his companion’s death had proven too much for him. He let the tears fall unchecked. He nuzzled Piccolo’s neck and froze as he felt a faint pulse there.

“Picoo?”

Piccolo’s chest slightly rose and fell. He was alive. Tram laughed in elation.

Piccolo stirred awake and looked up at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Tram answered. “You’re alive.”

“I certainly don’t feel like it.” He sounded exhausted. “What happened?”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

Piccolo’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “Remember what?”

“That bastard,” Tram said through clenched teeth. “He was bluffing the whole time. All I had to do to free you was kill him.”

“Kill who?” Piccolo asked, and then said with a little more energy, “I hope that you’re not talking about Gohan!”

Tram chuckled at his mate’s sudden rage. “No, Picoo, the little human is safe.”

Piccolo’s anger quickly diminished.

“In fact,” Tram continued, “I believe that I will help you train him from now on. I have found his presence to be tolerable. His mother, on the other hand, is as annoying as a gnat.”

“You met Chichi?” Piccolo asked in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

His blunt remark was rewarded by the sound of Piccolo’s laughter. Tram stared warmly down at him. It was good to hear his voice. Tram had come so close to losing him. He made a silent promise that no one would ever come between them again. Not as long as he and his little dragon, Picoo, still lived upon the Earth.

~The End~

Okay, folks! There you have it. Tell me what you think. Should I make another story about Tram and Piccolo? What do you think about a Shadros/Yamcha story? Do you even want to see one posted? If not, that is okay, because I still have many stories that I have not posted yet. In addition, chances are that you may not have read my other stories that are posted, so feel free to click on my pen name at the top of the page to see what other tales of mine may interest you. ^_^