My Dragon Ball Ascension

[Proto Man]

Since Omni posted up some of his older work that never received airtime, I figured I'd post this amusing gem I found while reorganizing my external hard-drive (yes, that's something I do).

This is from Dragon Ball Ascension, a website also made by our lovable overlord Omni. Omni was Koola before he changed (I believe to Trunks).

Anyway, I was amused reading this. It was posted 8 years ago this month.

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Frieza had left his brother to contend with the silly, fruity earthlings in their little tournament. After all, the prince didn’t need some contest to tell him how superior he was to all the infidels that lived on this little rock. With a sigh, the changeling made his way down the cobblestone road toward what seemed to be a small town situated near a large river. A plethora of thatched huts and piles of hay abounded the scene as the Planet Cold royalty strode toward the center of the habitation.

“Who the hell are you?” The blatantly inbred voice garnered the attention of Frieza. The young prince turned his attention and sent a tiny beam of ki straight through the man’s thoracic cavity. With a dramatic shriek, the hick grasped at his ruined chest and collapsed into an inert heap. All the commotion stirred the remainder of the village’s residents from their shitty, little houses.

With a glint in his eye, the white-skinned transformer scurried forward and punched his fist through the skull of a small child. The scream that followed was that of the lad’s mother, but before she could finish her lamentations, Frieza tore off her arm leg and kicked her through the wall of her home. Turning around, the changeling was greeted by the sight of a rather diminutive population armed with pitchforks and torches.

“I’m surprised you disillusioned scum managed to arm yourselves so quickly,” the heavily sardonic comment escaped the purple lips of the changeling as he moved toward the group of peasants. “Unfortunately, I’m still going to murder all you with my bare hands to pass the time!” Wrapping up his train of thought, the transformer rushed forward, closed his fingers around the skull of the nearest human being, and squeezed.

Once he heard the pleasing sound of a skull collapsing, the warrior prince heaved the corpse into the advancing mass of people. Pressing the attack, Frieza disarmed the nearest man and used the oversized utensil to punch three fatal holes through the farmer’s midsection. Tearing the bloodied weapon from the depth’s of his latest victim’s thorax, the prince pivoted and drove the crude tool down through the skull of an advancing female.

Glancing over his shoulder, the changeling whipped his tail up and wrapped it around one of his victim’s legs. With a slight motion, Frieza tripped up his target, and after a slight spin, he gained enough of a window to punch clean through the peasant’s ribcage. The force of the impact sprayed some blood onto the transformer’s white-skinned face, but the sensation was a welcome one to say the least.

The younger of the Cold Brothers laughed as he unleashed a small barrage of rapid jabs and kicks at the remaining group of humans. In a matter of seconds, the remaining six or seven peasants were all lying in expanding pools of their own blood and entrails. Situated in the center of the lake of death and grim was Frieza—the triumphant changeling stood with an ensanguined smirk plastered across his smug visage.

Unfortunately, the victory didn’t bring Frieza any long-lasting glee. After all, he was still on some backwater rock after being exiled from his own world by two fuckers that were going to be really dead. With a final, halfhearted smile at the devastated, bloodied masses that circled him, the transformer strode through the ankle-deep pool of fluid and over to the large river. Frieza’s insatiable thirst for bloodshed beckoned him to resume, and who would he be to deny it?