Through the Eyes of Perfection

(Author note: I use the word perfect a lot this chapter - it's intentional. Trying to say it enough till its believed by Cell - since well, he's going to doubt it. A lot. You'll see why soon enough.

Enjoy!)

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Death came in a blinding flash.

One moment, I was Perfect Cell, the ultimate creation, preparing to obliterate the Earth with my kamehameha. The next, I was being torn apart by an eleven-year-old boy's overwhelming power.

"This can't be happening!" I screamed as my perfect form disintegrated. "I am perfection incarnate!"

But it was happening. Cell, the perfect being, defeated by a child.

My consciousness persisted through the void - a testament to Dr. Gero's brilliant design. Even in death, I endured.

When awareness fully returned, I found myself in Hell.

Not the metaphorical hell of defeat, but the actual afterlife realm reserved for the universe's most deplorable villains. How... quaint.

"Prisoner C-897654, bio-android designation 'Cell'," a red-skinned ogre announced, reading from a comically oversized ledger.

"Crimes include: absorption of approximately 600,000 human beings, destruction of multiple cities, murder of the warrior designated 'Android 16', temporary murder of the Half-Saiyan from the future - Trunks, and numerous other atrocities."

"You forgot to mention my perfect genetics and flawless combat technique," I replied smoothly. "Minor oversights."

The ogre ignored my commentary. "By order of King Yemma, you are sentenced to the Crystal Viewing Prison for all eternity."

Before I could respond with an appropriately scathing retort, I found myself encased in a crystalline structure, suspended in mid-air.

My limbs were immobilized, my access to ki completely blocked. Most distressingly, my eyelids were somehow fixed open, unable to close.

"This special prison," the ogre explained with disgusting cheerfulness, "allows you to witness life continuing without you!"

"You'll watch as the universe moves on, as those who defeated you grow stronger, as your 'perfection' becomes increasingly irrelevant! Enjoy eternity, prisoner!"

Thus began my true punishment.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. The crystal somehow forced me to watch key events unfolding on Earth - as if Hell itself wanted to ensure I understood my irrelevance.

I watched that insufferable child Gohan return to his studies, abandoning the warrior's path that had defeated me. What a waste of potential.

I observed Vegeta continuing his training with renewed determination. The fool still believed he could reach Goku's level.

Speaking of Goku... the noble idiot remained dead by choice. At least someone acknowledged my accomplishment in forcing his sacrifice.

Seven years passed in this manner. Seven years of forced observation, of watching the world continue without the perfect being meant to rule it.

Then something interesting finally happened.

Goku returned to Earth for a day. A martial arts tournament. How delightfully primitive.

But the tournament was merely prelude to something far more intriguing. A new threat emerged - a pink, childlike creature of immense power. "Majin Buu," they called it.

I watched with growing fascination as this being effortlessly dispatched the so-called "Supreme Kai" - a deity, if you can believe such nonsense - that a being so weak is a "god."

Even more interesting was the battle between Goku and a Majin-possessed Vegeta. Their power had grown... substantially. Super Saiyan 2, they called it. The form Gohan had used to destroy me now seemed almost commonplace.

"How quaint," I murmured to myself, though no one could hear me in my crystal prison. "They've improved marginally. Still nothing compared to what I would have achieved with more time to perfect myself."

But deep down, a disturbing thought formed: they had already surpassed me. My "perfect form" was now obsolete.

No. Impossible. I am perfection. I merely need... an upgrade.

The drama continued to unfold before my unwilling eyes. Majin Buu evolved, absorbing fighters and growing stronger.

The Saiyans attempted fusion techniques - first the children with a ridiculous dance, then Goku and Vegeta with magical earrings.

And then... him.

Vegito.

The fusion of Goku and Vegeta emerged in a blinding light, radiating power that made my perfect cells quiver even through the viewing crystal.

"The Ultimate Warrior," the announcer's voice echoed through my prison. "The fusion of the two mightiest Saiyans!"

Ultimate? The audacity! I am the ultimate creation! I am perfection!

But as I watched this... Vegito... battle against the evolved Majin Buu, doubt crept in for the first time. His power was beyond anything I had witnessed. Beyond anything I had imagined possible.

"Look at him toying with Buu," I heard one of the ogre guards comment to another. "And that's just his base form! He hasn't even transformed yet!"

When Vegito finally transformed into a Super Saiyan, the viewing crystal actually cracked from merely transmitting the image of such power.

The ogres rushed to repair it, muttering about "containment protocols" and "unprecedented energy readings."

I watched in silent fury as Vegito systematically dismantled Majin Buu - a being that had apparently consumed entire galaxies throughout history.

The fusion warrior didn't just fight; he dominated, humiliated, and controlled every aspect of the battle.

And then, adding insult to injury, I heard that announceer say it:

"He is the Ultimate Warrior, the Savior of Creation, the Perfect Being! You can call him the Great Vegito!"

Perfect Being? PERFECT BEING?! That was MY title! MY identity! How dare this fusion abomination appropriate my well-earned moniker!

I raged within my crystal prison, but no one could hear my protests. No one cared about the outdated model when the new version had arrived.

Time passed. More indignities followed.

I learned that this Vegito had somehow remained in existence even after Goku and Vegeta were separated from him.

He had become Emperor of something called the "Paradis Empire," ruling half the known universe.

But the final insult came just recently.

"Did you hear?" one ogre guard said to another outside my crystal. "Emperor Vegito has been visiting Frieza in the punishment fields."

"Again? That's the third time this week," the other replied. "What does the Emperor want with that lizard anyway?"

"Using him as a training dummy, from what I hear. Beats him to a pulp, lets him recover, then does it again. Calls him his 'punching bag.'"

My perfect mind raced with indignation. Frieza? FRIEZA?! That outdated tyrant was getting personal attention - training?! - with the so-called "Perfect Being" while I, the TRUE perfection, rotted in this crystal?

Unable to exercise a bit of my endless power while that lizard had fun?!

It was intolerable. Unconscionable. A cosmic injustice that demanded correction.

"Guard!" I called out, my voice somehow penetrating the crystal for the first time in years. Perhaps my righteous indignation had granted me new abilities. "Guard! I must speak with you immediately!"

The blue ogre approached cautiously. "Prisoners aren't supposed to talk. How are you doing that?"

"Never mind the mechanics," I replied smoothly. "I have critical information regarding Emperor Vegito's visits to Frieza."

The guard's eyes widened with interest. These simple creatures were so predictably susceptible to gossip.

"What information?" he asked, moving closer.

"The Emperor is wasting his valuable time," I explained, injecting my voice with concerned urgency. "Frieza is an inferior specimen, a biological dead-end. If the Emperor truly wishes to test his abilities against a worthy opponent, he should be visiting me instead."

"You?" The ogre laughed. "You're just another dead guy. What makes you special?"

I allowed a condescending smile to form on my perfect features. "My dear, simple friend. I am the perfect combination of the universe's greatest warriors.

Goku, Vegeta, Piccolo, Frieza - all their cells exist within me, refined and improved. I am literally designed to be the perfect sparring partner."

The ogre scratched his horn thoughtfully. "Huh. I guess that makes sense."

"Of course it does," I continued smoothly. "And consider the Emperor's valuable time. Why waste it on an inferior product when the premium model is available? It's simply... inefficient."

I could see the limited cognitive processes working behind the ogre's eyes. These creatures were clearly not selected for their intellectual capabilities.

"I suppose I could mention it to Azulon," he muttered. "He's the one who escorts the Emperor to Frieza's containment area."

"That would be most appreciated," I replied, "I'm merely concerned with the Emperor receiving the quality training experience he deserves."

The ogre wandered off, and I allowed myself a small, perfect smile. Soon, I would have my opportunity. Soon, I would demonstrate to this "Vegito" what true perfection looked like.

Days passed - or what passed for days in this timeless realm. Then, finally, activity.

Multiple ogres approached my crystal, consulting clipboards and muttering among themselves.

"Prisoner transfer," the lead ogre announced. "By special request."

The crystal dissolved around me, though heavy ki-suppressing shackles immediately replaced it. No matter. I didn't need ki to demonstrate my intellectual superiority.

They led me through the bleak landscape of Hell, past various punishment areas where lesser villains endured their eternities. How pedestrian.

We arrived at a barren plain where two figures were immediately visible. One was unmistakably Frieza, his white and purple form prostrate on the ground.

The other stood with one foot pressed firmly on the back of the tyrant's head, grinding his face into the dirt.

Vegito.

He was even more impressive in person than through the viewing crystal. Tall - taller than me, irritatingly - with a powerful build and features that combined Goku's and Vegeta's most striking characteristics.

He wore armor of imperial design, midnight blue with gold trim, and a Saiyan tail wrapped regally around his waist.

But it was the energy radiating from him that truly gave me pause. Even with my ki sensing abilities suppressed, I could feel his power like a physical pressure against my perfect skin.

"Emperor Vegito," the lead ogre announced with a deep bow. "We've brought the prisoner as requested."

Vegito looked up, momentary confusion crossing his features. "As requested? I didn't request any prisoners."

The ogre's blue face paled to a sickly azure. "But... but Azulon said... the perfect training partner..."

Understanding dawned on Vegito's face, followed by amusement. "Ah, I see. Cell managed to convince you that I'd want to see him." He chuckled, the sound somehow both warm and menacing. "Clever bug."

He lifted his foot from Frieza's head, allowing the tyrant to gasp for unnecessary breath. "Well, since you're here, Cell, what exactly did you want?"

I straightened to my full height, ignoring the shackles that bound me. "Emperor Vegito," I began, my voice a perfect blend of respect and confidence.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you've been using Frieza here as a training dummy. A punching bag, if you will."

"And?" Vegito raised an eyebrow, his tail unwrapping slightly from his waist in what I recognized as a sign of mild interest.

"And I would like to suggest a superior alternative," I continued smoothly. "Myself."

Frieza's head jerked up from the dirt, his red eyes wide with indignation. "What?!"

I spared him a dismissive glance. "Be quiet, Frieza. The adults are talking."

Turning back to Vegito, I continued my pitch. "Consider the facts, Emperor. I am the perfect biological creation, containing cells from all of the universe's greatest warriors - including both of your component parts.

My regenerative capabilities far exceed Frieza's, allowing for more intensive training sessions. And my combat intelligence is unparalleled."

Vegito crossed his arms, studying me with an expression of bemused interest. "You're asking me to beat you senseless... repeatedly... as a favor to you?"

"I'm offering you a superior training experience," I clarified. "And yes, I would consider it preferable to my current... accommodations."

"You fool!" Frieza hissed from the ground, his voice raspy from his recent compression into the dirt. "Whoever you are - you have no idea what you're asking for! This isn't training - it's torture!"

I regarded the fallen tyrant with perfect disdain. "Perhaps for you, Frieza. But then, you've always lacked vision."

"Fighting, attempting to surpass limits, being defeated a million times - that's still preferable to being eternally immobilized, unable to exert even a fraction of my perfect power."

Vegito uncrossed his arms, his expression shifting to something more calculating. "You know, Cell, I'm almost impressed by your audacity. Almost."

In a movement too fast for even my perfect eyes to track, he appeared directly before me. His fist drove into my stomach with such force that I felt my perfect form cave inward, creating a deep impression around his knuckles.

Pain - exquisite, overwhelming pain, finally a new feeling in near on a decade of none! - radiated through my body as I collapsed to my knees, a mixture of saliva and blood erupting from my mouth.

"Let me make something perfectly clear," Vegito said, "I haven't forgotten what you did. You nearly killed Gohan. You killed Trunks. You killed Android 16. You absorbed thousands of innocent humans."

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look up at him. "Those are my sons you harmed. My people you slaughtered."

"Technically," I managed to gasp, "they're Goku's and Vegeta's sons, not yours directly."

Another blow - this one to my perfect jawline - sent me sprawling across the barren ground.

"I have their memories," Vegito stated coldly. "Their attachments to them. Their love for their children. And their hatred for those who harmed them."

I pushed myself to a sitting position, my regenerative abilities already working to repair the damage. "And yet here you are, visiting Frieza regularly. He's killed far more than I ever did."

"True," Vegito acknowledged, glancing at the tyrant who was wisely remaining silent.

"But Frieza never specifically targeted my family - on Namek he focused more on Vegeta and his visit on earth ended in his death against Trunks. But I can't really count that last one, as he never was a true threat."

"Though I see your point," he continued, a cruel smile forming on his lips, "Frieza has proven to be such a disappointment as a training partner. Perhaps having both of you to work with might provide more... entertainment."

I felt a surge of triumph despite the pain still radiating through my perfect form. "Then you accept my proposal?"

"With conditions," Vegito replied, his tone making it clear these were non-negotiable. "First, you will address me as 'Emperor' or 'Your Majesty' at all times."

"Of course... Your Majesty," I replied, the words foreign on my perfect tongue.

"Second, you will follow every instruction without question or complaint. The moment you disobey, you go back to your crystal prison - permanently."

I nodded my agreement. Temporary subservience was an acceptable price for freedom from that crystal hell.

"And third," Vegito continued, his eyes boring into mine, "you will acknowledge, verbally and repeatedly, that I am the Perfect Being, not you."

My perfect jaw clenched involuntarily. This... this was asking too much. My very identity, the core of my perfect existence...

"That seems to be a sticking point for you," Vegito observed with cruel amusement. "Perhaps you'd prefer to return to your crystal after all?"

I weighed my options with perfect calculation. Pride versus opportunity. Identity versus freedom.

"I... acknowledge... that you are the Perfect Being," I forced out, each word like acid on my tongue.

"And you are?" Vegito prompted, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"I am... Cell."

"Cell what?"

I swallowed my perfect pride. "Cell... the imperfect one."

Vegito laughed - a sound that combined Goku's warm chuckle with Vegeta's mocking sneer. "Oh, this is going to be entertaining indeed. Frieza, it seems you have a training partner now."

Frieza, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, finally spoke. "How wonderful," he drawled sarcastically. "The bug joins our little torture sessions. Perhaps we can form a support group."

"Now, now, Frieza," Vegito chided, his tone mockingly paternal. "That's no way to welcome your new colleague. After all, Cell here specifically requested the honor of being my punching bag."

"A decision he will soon regret," Frieza muttered.

Vegito clapped his hands together, the sound echoing across the barren landscape. "Well then, shall we begin today's session? I think it's only fair to give Cell here a proper demonstration of what he's signed up for."

He turned to the ogres who had been watching this exchange with wide-eyed fascination. "Remove his restraints. Let's see if the 'perfect being' can at least provide me with a warm-up."

The ogres hastened to comply, unlocking my shackles. For the first time in what felt like eternity, I could feel my ki flowing freely through my perfect form. It was... exhilarating.

I flexed my perfect hands, feeling power surge through them. "You won't be disappointed, Your Majesty. I was created to be the perfect opponent."

"We'll see about that," Vegito replied, taking a casual stance several yards away from me. "Come at me with everything you have. Don't hold back."

I didn't need to be told twice. Gathering my perfect power, I launched myself at him with blinding speed, my fist aimed directly at his face.

He didn't move. Didn't even blink. My perfect punch connected squarely with his jaw - and had absolutely no effect.

It was like striking a mountain. An immovable, unimpressed mountain.

"Is that really your best?" Vegito asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I expected more from Dr. Gero's 'perfect' creation."

Fury surged through my perfect cells. I unleashed a barrage of strikes - punches, kicks, elbow strikes, knee thrusts - each delivered with perfect technique and maximum power.

Vegito stood motionless, allowing every blow to land without so much as flinching.

"Pathetic," he commented as I finally paused, my breathing slightly labored from the exertion. "Even Frieza managed to make me block on his first day."

I heard Frieza's smug chuckle from somewhere behind me, which only fueled my perfect rage.

"Perhaps this will impress you more," I snarled, leaping backward and cupping my hands at my side. "KA... ME..."

Blue energy coalesced between my palms, building to blinding intensity.

"HA... ME..."

The power reached its peak, my perfect cells channeling every ounce of available energy into the attack.

"HAAAA!"

The beam erupted from my hands, streaking toward Vegito with enough force to vaporize a planet. My perfect kamehameha, the same technique that had nearly destroyed the Solar System, now directed at this fusion upstart who dared claim my title.

Vegito raised one hand - one single hand - and caught the beam effortlessly. The energy swirled in his palm like water in a cup, completely contained.

"Interesting," he commented, studying the energy as if it were a mildly curious specimen. "You've combined Goku's kamehameha with Frieza's death beam properties and Vegeta's explosive force. Creative, I'll give you that."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he redirected my perfect attack into the sky, where it dissipated harmlessly.

"But ultimately inadequate," he concluded. "Just like you."

Before I could respond, he was in front of me - moving so fast even my perfect eyes couldn't track him. His fist connected with my solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs and sending me flying backward.

I crashed into a rocky formation, the impact shattering both the rocks and several parts of my perfect exoskeleton.

"Lesson one," Vegito called out as I struggled to extract myself from the rubble. "True perfection isn't about what you're made of. It's about what you do with it."

He appeared beside me, grabbing my arm before I could fully stand. With a casual twist, he separated the limb from my body, ignoring my perfect scream of agony.

"Lesson two," he continued, examining my severed arm with interest. "Regeneration is useful, but it's not a substitute for proper defense."

My cells were already working to regrow the limb, but the process seemed slower than I remembered. Was it Hell's influence, or had my perfect design degraded during my imprisonment?

"Fascinating construction," Vegito commented, still studying my detached arm. "Gero was brilliant, in his twisted way. But he made a critical error with you, Cell."

"And what might that be?" I managed to ask as my new arm began to take shape.

Vegito tossed my severed limb aside and fixed me with a penetrating stare. "He gave you pride without giving you the power to justify it. You believe you're perfect because you were programmed to believe it, not because you earned it."

He reached out and grabbed my newly formed arm, testing its solidity with a squeeze that sent fresh waves of pain through my perfect form.

"Adequate regeneration," he assessed. "But slower than I expected. Frieza, how long does it take you to regenerate a limb these days thanks to Hell's immortality?"

"Approximately three minutes, Your Majesty," Frieza replied from where he stood watching our exchange with undisguised schadenfreude. "Down from five when we began our... sessions."

"You see, Cell?" Vegito turned back to me. "Even Frieza improves with proper motivation. Let's see if you can do the same."

What followed was the most thorough dismantling of my perfect form I had ever experienced.

Vegito systematically identified and exploited every weakness in my design, every limitation in my combat programming.

He tore me apart and allowed me to regenerate, only to tear me apart again in a different way.

He analyzed my techniques, pointing out flaws I had never noticed. He forced me to attempt attacks I had never considered, then demonstrated why they wouldn't work against a truly superior opponent.

And throughout it all, he maintained that infuriating calm, that absolute control that made it clear he was operating at a fraction of his true capacity.

By the time he called a halt to the "training," I lay broken on the ground, my perfect form a battered mess of partially regenerated tissue and exposed cybernetics.

"Not entirely disappointing for a first session," Vegito assessed, not even breathing hard despite hours of constant combat. "You have more creativity than Frieza, I'll grant you that. But your fundamentals are sloppy, your reliance on regeneration is a crutch, and your tactical thinking is predictable."

He turned to Frieza, who had been watching the entire session with a mixture of horror and satisfaction. "Your turn tomorrow, Frieza. I want to compare your progress against our new recruit."

"I look forward to it, Your Majesty," Frieza replied with a bow that managed to be both respectful and sarcastic simultaneously.

Vegito nodded, then addressed the ogre guards who had been maintaining a safe distance throughout the "training."

"Return Cell to his containment area when he's regenerated enough to move. I'll be back in three days to continue his... education."

"Yes, Emperor Vegito," the lead ogre replied with a deep bow.

As Vegito prepared to depart, he paused and looked back at my broken form. "Oh, and Cell? Before our next session, I expect you to have contemplated the difference between being designed for perfection and actually achieving it. We'll discuss your conclusions when I return."

With that, he placed two fingers to his forehead and vanished - a technique I recognized as Goku's Instant Transmission, performed with even greater precision than the original.

As my perfect cells slowly knit themselves back together, I lay staring at the spot where he had disappeared.

"He's been going easy on you," Frieza commented, limping over to stand above me. "That was just his introductory session. It gets much worse."

"Worth it," I managed to croak through a partially reformed trachea. "Better than... crystal prison."

Frieza laughed - a bitter, hollow sound. "You say that now. Let's see if you still believe it after a month of being the Emperor's plaything."

"He's not... perfect," I insisted, clinging to this one certainty despite all evidence to the contrary. "I am."

"Tell yourself whatever helps you regenerate at night," Frieza replied dismissively. "But understand this, Cell - I've seen him transform. What you experienced today wasn't even a fraction of his true power."

This information sent a chill through my perfect spine. "Transform? Into what?"

Frieza's eyes took on a haunted quality. "They call it 'Super Saiyan 4.' I've only glimpsed it once, when he was particularly displeased with my performance. The power... it defies comprehension. It's truly a monkey's true form." 

I processed this as my body continued its repairs. Super Saiyan 4? I had seen the first to three forms, but for there to be a fourth?!

"You're lying," I accused, though without much conviction.

Frieza merely shrugged his partially mangled shoulders. "Believe what you want. You'll see for yourself eventually, if you displease him enough."

As the ogres approached to return us to our respective containment areas, I found myself facing a perfect conundrum.

Had I made a tactical error in requesting this arrangement? Was the crystal prison actually the lesser punishment?

No. Even this degradation was preferable to that eternal, helpless observation. Here, at least, I could move, fight, test my perfect design against the universe's greatest warrior.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I might learn something from these "training sessions" that would eventually allow me to reclaim my rightful title as the Perfect Being.

After all, I was designed to adapt, to evolve, to improve.

If this "Emperor" thought he could break me, he would soon discover the true meaning of perfection.

Perfect Cell does not break. Perfect Cell adapts.

And someday, I will show Vegito exactly what perfect really means.

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(Author note: Perfect this, perfect that, yadde yadde yadda. Man even I became tired of writing perfect after the fourth time.

But, well, that's the price of writing a logical internal state of being for a creature that is trying to convince itself of its perfection when its lost its foundation upon which it built that image of itself.

So, do tell me what you think of this development. Is this wise?

(Just so you all know - Vegito is more talented than Frieza and Cell.

I base talent being upon how strong you are when born - and Vegito was born as strong as Buuhan in base.)

Next chapter we'll see what's going on with the parents - Bardock, King Vegeta, Gine and Eschalot.

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)