Post by Cooler on Oct 21, 2010 16:09:46 GMT -5
Piccolo sat on a hill watching the sun crest over a hill, lighting the valley between his position and the said hill. The color returned to the earth lighting the trees, bushes, caves, and animals. It was beautiful, and hit the one part of humanity, well namekianty to be exact, that still existed in the warrior. The sun hit his mask, and the lenses adjusted to the blinding light. Shading the Namekian's darkened eyes from the brilliance of the golden orb. Something the masked man appreciated alot. A smile actually crossed his face for something other than death, violence, or chaos. It was odd, seeing the odd bit of his soul left that wasn't corrupted by his life experiences.
This brought him back to his past, the discrimination and hatred directed towards him due to the color of his skin. It was stupid, and generally pig-headed yet still people continued the wave of hatred. If people could see past his exterior while he still was decent, they would find a good ally, but nobody ever did. Odd how an innocent person could turn into such a monster just because of hatred directed to him. Yet it was true, time and again Piccolo's personality slowly decayed into the monster he was now. Only due to how he was treated by the general public. He didn't remember quite when the shift happened but it sure happened. Perhaps it was a gradual shift, maybe it happened all at once. Either way the results were the same, and now Piccolo was completely changed from the way he first was. He started off hating how his predecessor was, now however he saw why. It was hard living in a place where he was different from everyone, but it was the hand he was dealt in life.
If he hadn't been hated by others, would he have kept the views he started with? The protection of the weak, the many before the self, pity, justice, and countless other traits lost from when he was birthed all gone. Replaced now was pure hatred, self over others, personal betterment, and disdain for anything human. The bias put upon him was now replicated by himself towards others. Hypocritical, very but he had only seen the dark side of the human race. He considered them pathetic weaklings, which alot of them were. Instead of realizing not all were the same, he instead viewed them as one teeming mass of ignorance. Their leaders were the worse, enforcing laws on the masses, yet breaking it themselves. Piccolo viewed his actions as purification, it was the reason he had attacked a factory instead of a school. As the system was now, even the children were hopeless, but if Piccolo could change it, they may have a glimmer of hope in becoming a great race. The Namekian viewed his goal as nearly unachievable by himself, yet he would try. It helped that death brought him joy, yet it was slightly more to that. Controlled chaos he justified it as, a normal person would say there was no justification. Piccolo would respond that his ends justified his means, even his his ends never came to fruition.
What his next move would be he hadn't decided, when he thought about it he didn't know even where to start. Maybe he would assassinate the Earth's leaders, maybe he would continue his acts of terrorism. While the terrorism was more fun, the execution of leaders would have more of an impact. Piccolo felt that the leaders who replaced them would be just as awful, the Namekian feared they would be worse. It kept him from following that path, but what would come from his terrorist acts? They were fun for sure, yet all they would do would make him a menace. It would make it harder for him to change Humanity. If he centered the violent acts on a certain region perhaps he could change the rival regions, and set a slow act of betterment. Maybe he could demand an ultimatum, after all who could possibly stop him? Well who could stop him, that cared? He hadn't found a powerful defender of this planet, he had encountered a few like him who were agents of evil.
Frieza, the changeling he trained with was one such person, he hadn't seen him for a while, and never really gotten to know him. A mistake he lamented, Piccolo was sure he would have time in the future. He hoped he would have time in the future. He was different from the masses, like himself, a kindred spirit. Perhaps he could find enough souls like him, and create his own society forsaking the decrepit system the Humans had in place. A society where one was hated due to actions, not appearance. Probably just a fleeting dream of a green madman, a madman embarrassed of his heritage.
After all the Namekian hid behind a mask, and a suite. Even his hands were covered by crimson gloves, matching his tie. The rest of his outfit was black, even the undershirt was black as the night. He would keep his tie, and gloves black but, he felt the amount of blood on his hands kept him from wearing gloves of any other color. He would be gloveless, but the memories of racism directed towards himself kept him from showing his skin color. Even though he no longer cared of acceptance, he still stubbornly held onto semi-normality. It was idiotic, yet he wanted the avatar of fear to be semi-human. Almost like a mirror of what had kept him in the shadows for so long.
He still dwelled on his thought of the creating a new society, a perfect society. One that would never exist except inside his head. If he could figure out how to make it work, he would pour his soul into it. He would forsake training, forsake violence, forsake his life even for this thing. This unobtainable idea haunted his head, the long term goal for his life. A pointless existence he thought to himself, tried to convince himself. Yet no matter how much he argued with himself he couldn't change it.
1030
This brought him back to his past, the discrimination and hatred directed towards him due to the color of his skin. It was stupid, and generally pig-headed yet still people continued the wave of hatred. If people could see past his exterior while he still was decent, they would find a good ally, but nobody ever did. Odd how an innocent person could turn into such a monster just because of hatred directed to him. Yet it was true, time and again Piccolo's personality slowly decayed into the monster he was now. Only due to how he was treated by the general public. He didn't remember quite when the shift happened but it sure happened. Perhaps it was a gradual shift, maybe it happened all at once. Either way the results were the same, and now Piccolo was completely changed from the way he first was. He started off hating how his predecessor was, now however he saw why. It was hard living in a place where he was different from everyone, but it was the hand he was dealt in life.
If he hadn't been hated by others, would he have kept the views he started with? The protection of the weak, the many before the self, pity, justice, and countless other traits lost from when he was birthed all gone. Replaced now was pure hatred, self over others, personal betterment, and disdain for anything human. The bias put upon him was now replicated by himself towards others. Hypocritical, very but he had only seen the dark side of the human race. He considered them pathetic weaklings, which alot of them were. Instead of realizing not all were the same, he instead viewed them as one teeming mass of ignorance. Their leaders were the worse, enforcing laws on the masses, yet breaking it themselves. Piccolo viewed his actions as purification, it was the reason he had attacked a factory instead of a school. As the system was now, even the children were hopeless, but if Piccolo could change it, they may have a glimmer of hope in becoming a great race. The Namekian viewed his goal as nearly unachievable by himself, yet he would try. It helped that death brought him joy, yet it was slightly more to that. Controlled chaos he justified it as, a normal person would say there was no justification. Piccolo would respond that his ends justified his means, even his his ends never came to fruition.
What his next move would be he hadn't decided, when he thought about it he didn't know even where to start. Maybe he would assassinate the Earth's leaders, maybe he would continue his acts of terrorism. While the terrorism was more fun, the execution of leaders would have more of an impact. Piccolo felt that the leaders who replaced them would be just as awful, the Namekian feared they would be worse. It kept him from following that path, but what would come from his terrorist acts? They were fun for sure, yet all they would do would make him a menace. It would make it harder for him to change Humanity. If he centered the violent acts on a certain region perhaps he could change the rival regions, and set a slow act of betterment. Maybe he could demand an ultimatum, after all who could possibly stop him? Well who could stop him, that cared? He hadn't found a powerful defender of this planet, he had encountered a few like him who were agents of evil.
Frieza, the changeling he trained with was one such person, he hadn't seen him for a while, and never really gotten to know him. A mistake he lamented, Piccolo was sure he would have time in the future. He hoped he would have time in the future. He was different from the masses, like himself, a kindred spirit. Perhaps he could find enough souls like him, and create his own society forsaking the decrepit system the Humans had in place. A society where one was hated due to actions, not appearance. Probably just a fleeting dream of a green madman, a madman embarrassed of his heritage.
After all the Namekian hid behind a mask, and a suite. Even his hands were covered by crimson gloves, matching his tie. The rest of his outfit was black, even the undershirt was black as the night. He would keep his tie, and gloves black but, he felt the amount of blood on his hands kept him from wearing gloves of any other color. He would be gloveless, but the memories of racism directed towards himself kept him from showing his skin color. Even though he no longer cared of acceptance, he still stubbornly held onto semi-normality. It was idiotic, yet he wanted the avatar of fear to be semi-human. Almost like a mirror of what had kept him in the shadows for so long.
He still dwelled on his thought of the creating a new society, a perfect society. One that would never exist except inside his head. If he could figure out how to make it work, he would pour his soul into it. He would forsake training, forsake violence, forsake his life even for this thing. This unobtainable idea haunted his head, the long term goal for his life. A pointless existence he thought to himself, tried to convince himself. Yet no matter how much he argued with himself he couldn't change it.
1030