The sun began to set into the mountains, lighting up the sky in a vivid orange, blinding the people below. The wooded land gave off a faint scent of the pine, which delighted the hunters and the campers alike. All was at peace in nature, as a Namek named Piccolo flew above the world, oblivious of everything, but one.
 He did not understand what had happened today. He did not think, or feel, or know what he did. All Piccolo thought was to fly to a cave buried within the mountains. The power level drew him to that particular cave, yet although he would normally destroy the person who drew him their, Piccolo's controller wasn't in the mood for his own death.
 Piccolo did not need to look down. He knew where to land. The cave entrance beckoned, a rocky ledge in front of it, as if it was an apartment with its own veranda. Moss grew on the edge, and the dark hole of the entrance was as black as coal, no light needed. Without warning, Piccolo dived down toward this desolate place, and he was at the home of his controller.
 Piccolo landed, silent as the night. He walked briskly, his soft leather shoes leaving no mark of his entry. He continued to walk, the long cavernous tunnels as black as the coal which lit the distant fires he could see down the pathway. Moss covered the semicircular rock, and there was a faint dripping nose, as if a river flowed over this, and the water was slowly flooding the cave.
 Piccolo turned a small bend, to see the fire he noticed burn more brightly. Behind the colourful sparks of the flames, a dark figure could be seen. His black hair stood up in spikes, sharp and angular. He wore armour that stuck out at the side of his shoulders, and a blue suit, which wore like a second skin, his muscular body clearly visible through it. He sat cross-legged, humming an unknown tune, as he recognised his servant's arrival.
 " Ah, Piccolo, you arrive." He said in a voice that did not sound like a master addressing his slave. It was a taunting voice. A voice, which was, heard when a false friend greets an unsuspecting person. A voice one does not like to hear.
 "Yes master. It has begun." Piccolo said, his red eyes unemotional, his voice alike. He was no longer living, in a certain sense. He was a drone to this being, a creature to extract information from, and then throw away like a broken toy.
 "Indeed. Good work Piccolo. This is sure to be fun." The voice said. It sounded as if he was at a wine party, sampling the latest Chardonnay or Cabernet. Swilling the concoction in his mouth, before spitting it into a silver bowl to be disposed of at a later date.
 "What do you require from me Master?" Piccolo asked in a monotone voice. The person who spoke never turned around. He stayed still, looking at the wall, and thinking of the tune he was humming previous to this conversation.
 "Nothing at the minute, my dear Piccolo. I need my rest. Stand watch on the rocky ledge, while I sleep away the day's success." The voice answered. Piccolo without a moment's hesitation, span around, and walked, marched even, to the rocky ledge.
 The man lay down; swirls of thoughts amass in his mind. As his head rested on the floor, he smiled a grin, one which would be seen on a Cheshire cat. "Indeed." The voice said, "This is sure to be good fun." The voice laughed a deep, evil laugh, which echoed down the tunnel, but was never heard by a living being.