600 YEARS AGO...

The guy next to him smelled like fish.

Zunim was starting to lose his patience AND his appetite. Being a Saiyan, that second thing said a lot about his situation. First of all, he didn't see why his crew had picked HIM to come to this stupid meeting. Yeah, he was their leader, and yes, this ore they were going after was valuable, but still. Kale and Pinach were the smart ones who actually cared about this stuff. Why didn't one of THEM come to deal with the negotiation B.S.? Zunim just wanted to be fighting.

But whatever. The money they'd make off swiping this stuff would keep them all very, very comfortable for a very, very long time. Even Zunim knew that if he wanted the cut for him and his crew, he'd have to do something for once besides killing things. Though, if this dragged on much longer, he might end up doing that anyway.

"They're MY ships," demanded one of the other bosses, a large reptilian-looking alien with four eyes and a beak-like nose. "Without them you'd have no way to even get the stuff off the planet. I demand at least forty percent!"

"You'll get your cut at all, much less forty percent, when you show you're reliable," came the reply from another boss. This one was some sort of semi-humanoid being, with spiky growths on his arms and no visible nose, which made him speak in a nasally tone. "We've all heard about that last operation of yours on Plant. You didn't even get halfway through their system before they caught you, and you were forced to dump your cargo and run."

"The only mistake we made was taking that job in the first place," the first argued. "Nobody can pull one on the Tsufrians. They're too devious."

"Our point exactly," another boss put in. "How can we be sure that wasn't just the first link in a long chain of your stupid decisions?"

"Yeah, how do we know you won't turn your tail, drop your cargo and run again?"

"There'll be no need," Zunim butted in. "Because you've got us." He indicated himself. "My crew and I are Saiyans, one of the toughest races in the Universe. You won't find any better muscle around, aside from those snotty Icelings." He smirked and waved his hand around above his head. "Besides," he chortled. "These Namekians... They're pacifists. They just farm and let other races mine and wheel n' deal on their planet. Total pushovers. If they DO happen to catch us, I and the rest of my crew can just plow through them, no sweat."

"I don't know," another member, donned in a hooded robe and a mechanical mask, spoke for the first time. "I've heard stories about their Warrior Clan. It might be a problem if we were to have a run-in with them."

"Oh, what?" The lizard boss laughed. "They might attack us with shovels? Oh, or poke us to death with those antennae of theirs!"

This brought about a quick round of laughter from the room's occupants. Under his mask, the cautious one simply grinned.

"Anyway," 'Spike-arm,' the brains behind the operation, continued. "Here's the place we're meeting." He produced and tossed several data sheets with maps and written details onto the table. "The mine itself isn't the target. Rather, it's a large storage facility where the raw ore is stored before it's shipped off for refinement."

He leaned forward and indicated a certain spot on his sheet. "Our contact is a Rugthian worker named Leich. He operates the vehicle for transporting the ore and is one of the last ones at the facility every day. He'll be there to show us to it when we hit the place tomorrow night, in return for fifteen percent of the profit." He pointed to another spot. "We'll 'steal' one of his transports, and use it to bring at least two hundred standard tons of ore to ol' Tsufrian-target's ships, located at these coordinates." He ignored Lizard's glare and concluded. "Overall, it's a pretty simple job, but it has to be followed to the letter if it's gonna work. Any questions?"

"None," was the general response from all present.

"Excellent," remarked the masked one. "We'll make sure to mark these coordinates."

"What, of my ships? How come?"

"Why, to impound them and arrest you, of course," he said. He confidently reached up and removed his mask, revealing a muscular, green, eyebrow-less, and distinctly antennae-adorned face beneath. He grinned devilishly. "In the unlikely event any of you manage to escape from here."

"A Namek mole!" Spike-arm exclaimed, to inform any of those who hadn't realized it yet. Which was, in actuality, about a good half of them. "Blast him!"

All hands, tentacles, and other unidentified appendages in the room reached out, charged ki, and took aim at the Namekian as he jumped up towards the ceiling. They all fired, yet the dozen different ki blasts managed to shred nothing more than the now-empty cloak. The tall, bulky Namekian suddenly appeared behind 'Spike-arm', who turned around just in time to receive a high-powered fist to the face what sent him flying backwards. He struck his head on the far wall, and slumped down to the ground, unconscious and possibly dead.

"Get him!" 'Lizard' barked, and Zunim was more than inclined to oblige. Time to show this green freak just who he's messing with. He charged, making sure the Namekian would see him coming. The Namekian adjusted his stance to counter his assault, but at the last second, Zunim sidestepped at speeds impossible for anyone else in the room, bringing himself behind the Namekian, while also leaving an after-image, which the Namekian's punch sailed right through.

Gotcha, Zunim thought to himself, and swung his leg around straight towards the back of the Namekian's head.

The Namekian caught it with the same hand.

"What?" Zunim was in shock. How fast did he just move? Using the same arm he'd punched at the after-image with? To do that, he'd have to be leagues ahead of Zunim in speed, power, and skill.

Zunim watched in horror as four more Namekian warriors burst in through the door, and the one who had him in his clutches tightened his grip. The last thought running through Zunim's head before he was thrown against the wall was, "This won't end well."

A few short minutes later, the beatdown was over and cleanup began. The lead Namekian examined the smugglers' plans more carefully, as the other warriors under his command began restraining and moving out those who remained. A few had managed to escape, including that idiotic Saiyan who had charged him. But it would be fairly easy to track them down, since they now had details of their plans, and the members of the other gangs they'd captured would surely be willing to 'rat them out', as it were — at least, with a little convincing. He motioned to one of the other warriors and handed him the documents.

"Find and impound their ships," he ordered. "Arrest any present gang members, and have someone track down and arrest their Rugthian contact, as well."

"Yes, sir," the lower-ranked warrior complied, taking the documents and heading off.

The Namekian warrior known as Slug once again looked around at the wrecked hideout and grinned in self-satisfaction. It was shaping up to be a rewarding day.

DRAGONBALL GT REVISED: CATACLYSM

By Kaboom Krusader

Chapter One - "Little Green Men"

It was a crisp, cool autumn afternoon. Namek's third sun had finished setting, as the second began to rise to join the first just over the horizon. Together they illuminated the city's peaks with a golden luminescence. Small crafts began to buzz about less frequently, signaling the winding down of the day. Of course, with three suns constantly surrounding it, Namek didn't technically have a "night," rather just certain points of the day that were slightly brighter or darker than others. Regardless, the view of the city was majestic nearly 24-7.

Such pristine sightseeing opportunities were perhaps the greatest highlights of Bosa's day. He made it a daily priority to visit the balcony of his chamber at least once to soak in the sights - Surely a convenient privilege of being one of Namek's three ruling elders.

Bosa closed his eyes and took in a great sigh, the motions of which were barely visible on his plump frame. He stood still and cleared his mind, allowing the brisk breeze to waft over him. He would need a level head later today, as he had some very important business to oversee. A mining organization wanted access to a large portion of Namek's second moon for the valuable ore it contained, and they claimed to have already purchased the rights to it. Unfortunately, a group of Ardrian scientists were already quite situated in that area, and had been running some very beneficial, and so far successful, terraforming experiments for several years.

As head of the Seer Clan, diplomacy was Bosa's forte, and heading up negotiations during such situations was more than routine for him. It was practically second nature. Normally a lower level Seer would supervise something like this, but the size and potential impact of this case in particular required the attention of Bosa himself. Despite the scale, however, this would be a relatively simple ordeal to work out: Just a matter of appropriately dividing up the 'real estate', as it were.

He took one last glance at the cityscape before turning to leave. But he purposely stalled his exit so that it would coincide with the approach of the individual he had sensed, going through the door of his chambers at just the right moment so as to walk beside him. Given that this was a tradition, the acquaintance fully expected it.

"Good morning, Bosa," he greeted.

"As to you, Thorgas," he replied. Thorgas was a brawny, aged Namek, standing almost two heads above Bosa. His stern but calm and kind face was wrinkled from pain from his many years of battles and adorned with several small scars, the most prominent across the bridge of his nose. They were a visual testimonial to his years as the head of Namek's Warrior Clan and of the fierce battles he had fought to keep the people safe. He was dressed casually, being off-duty at the time.

"You seem troubled," Thorgas noted, his voice deep and gruff. "Will these negotiations really be such a chore for you?"

"Well, it depends," Bosa replied. "Ardrians are pleasant to work with, but they often let themselves be pushed around too easily. In contrast, I've worked with these specific miners before, and they tend to be quite forceful. So you can see the need for a proper, experienced mediator."

"Hmm," Thorgas grinned, as they walked through the spacious upper floor of the Makigai capitol palace, nodding to various other busy Namekians as they passed. "Would you like me to come along? I'm sure my presence alone would be incentive enough for both parties to behave themselves."

"Ah, no, don't worry about it," Bosa waved off the offer. "I will have Tanben there."

"Alright, then," the hefty Namek replied. "Slug and I are going out to celebrate, anyway."

"Ah, yes, congratulations on finally breaking up that smuggling ring."

"It wasn't my doing," Thorgas remarked. "It was all Slug. He even went so far as to infiltrate them. I'm not sure how he did it, but it must have been brilliant."

"That son of yours..." Bosa mused. "He's certainly remarkable..."

Thorgas picked up on the hint of uncertainty in Bosa's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong, just," Bosa thought for a moment. "I've sensed a change in him, ever since he took over warding the city. Something feels... clouded. Unsure."

"I can't say I've felt anything out of the ordinary," Thorgas responded. The two began to descend a great spiral staircase, yet after a short while decided to take flight and steadily levitate themselves downwards instead. "Do you believe it's something dangerous? Unnatural?"

"I don't believe so, at least..." Bosa shook his head. "Ah, I'm sure it is nothing. There are some days I curse these perceptive powers of mine."

"Don't, they make you a fine ambassador," Thorgas patted his stout friend on the back, prompting a slight flinch from his strength. "Thank you for letting me know, though, old friend. I'll make sure to keep an eye on him."

"Certainly," Bosa remarked, as the two of them landed in the palace's majestic lobby and walked towards the main doors. "Though I'm sure my senses are just overreacting..." The two exited out the doors into the illustrious central garden, where the Palace resided in the exact center of the city. Off by the main gates, the two parties of the negotiations were visible, keeping their distances from each other and exchanging nothing but the occasional dirty look. A tall, deceptively scrawny-looking Namekian warrior was standing guard with them, likely keeping them from killing each other. He noticed Bosa and Thorgas, walked over a few yards to meet them, and bowed politely.

"Good evening, elders."

"To you too, Tanben," Thorgas replied. "Well then, if you're going to get to business right away," Thorgas gave a quick wave of a salute, and began to steadily hover away from them. "I'll be going."

"Enjoy yourself!" Bosa called out as his friend jetted away to the East. Then he turned to Tanben. "Now, then, shall we?"

The two of them approached the groups, among which all eyes were eagerly upon them.

"Good evening, gentlemen! How are you all?"

The markets of East Makigai were the most densely packed areas of the city, and after the city hall's Grand Ajissa Gardens, they were certainly the most well-known city landmark. The planet's grandest spaceport was situated to this edge of the city, making the market a bustling center of traffic and commerce. Every day, thousands of individuals from countless races traveled in, out, and all through within its numerous streets, adorned with all sorts of shops, offices, and various other outlets of business and leisure. Squarely bisecting this district was the wide and majestic thoroughfare known as Kalum's Pass. Named for an ancient Namekian priest, it was the setting of most of the area's hustle and bustle, as visitors inevitably passed through it on their way from the spaceport into the city's political and commercial heart.

Cleverly placed at a prime intersection, nearly at the halfway mark of Kalum's Pass, was a certain popular recreational establishment, entitled The Wayward Moon. With two spacious floors, a full kitchen, and a deck on the roof with a marvelous view of both the spaceports and the majestic towers of the inner city, the tavern was quite often a prime gathering place and pit stop for all sorts of colorful and foreign travelers. But make no mistake; it did have its "regulars" as well.

One of these customary patrons was currently on the roof deck, the open spaces of which were relatively empty, save for a disinterested customer or two at the benches by the edges. Though as distant as they were, the patron, a tall, burly young Namekian warrior, was not without company. He was accompanied by a Namek child, whom he appeared to be tutoring in some fashion.

"Alright then," Slug remarked to the green youngster. "Have you got yourself adequately focused?"

The child stood there, arms at his side, his eyes closed in meditative concentration, giving no more than a slight nod for his answer.

"You need to be fully aware of and have a solid grasp on your own power." The warrior calmly dictated as he paced around the child. "Not just in the mental sense. It must be a physical awareness." He stopped and made a clenched fist, as if gripping something. "You must take hold of your power as if it were a physical mass. Something malleable and material which you can shape to your liking."

The child focused more, a slight frown appearing on his brow. After a second or two, the warrior smiled.

"Good, you've got it. I can sense it. You've been practicing focusing your ki, haven't you?

The child smiled and nodded again, his eyes still closed all the time.

"Excellent. Now..."

He leaned down to emphasize the next instruction.

"Chop it in half."

The child immediately began to glow, which caught the attention of the few bystanders on the roof. Suddenly, he split in two, an exact clone of himself appearing right next to him. The sudden development shocked the other patrons nearby, bringing one to forcefully spew out some of his drink and comment to himself about laying off the stuff.

The young Namek was just as surprised, and opened his eyes to gawk in amazement at his new doppleganger, which seemed equally awestruck. The "identical twins" each made some awkward movements, periodically mimicking each other.

"This is incredible," he commented. "It's as i-"

"-f I'm in two places at once," the double finished.

"That's exactly it," the warrior commented. "With this technique, you essentially clone yourself. But you are more than just telepathically linked with the clone; you are it. Your mind, your will, your very consciousness, is split between you and however many clones you make. But keep in mind that your power is divided as well."

"H-however many?" The child responded, which the clone then followed with, "I can make more than one?"

"As many as you have the ki and concentration to make." He replied. "Though that's still usually not many, because as I'm sure you're aware by now..."

With a gasp, the child buckled and fell to his knees, as the clone dissolved into energy and shifted back into him.

"...It's fairly hard to even maintain just one."

"W-wow..." The child sat for a moment, panting. "I've got to practice this one..."

"Yes, it will take quite a bit of effort to perfect it," the warrior said, reaching down and helping the youngster up. "As you can tell, it's fairly easy to actually make the split. Learning to control the copy as you wish is a bit more difficult."

He looked up at his teacher and smiled in proud satisfaction. "It... heh, doesn't seem THAT hard."

"Not too hard for you, apparently!" A new voice congratulated the young one. All eyes turned over and up to see Thorgas, head elder of the Warrior Clan, in midair above the street. He floated down to land on the rooftop deck, giving a quick round of applause as he did. "Well done, Kuji. I'm quite impressed!"

"Ah!" Kuji made a slight bow, his vibrant young face beaming all the while. "Thank you!" He looked up to the younger warrior. "And thank you for the lesson, Slug! Since Mister Thorgas is here now, I'll head right home and practice!"

"Ah, it's no trouble, Kuji. I quite enjoy having a pupil." He reached down and ruffled the child's antennae. "Make sure you don't over-exert yourself. But if you really wanted one last exercise..."

Kuji eyed him inquisitively. Slug grinned.

"Then don't take the tram home. Practice your flight instead."

"Oh! Yes, I think I will!" He ran over to the ledge, before turning around to them one last time. "Thank you again! I will see you tomorrow!" He turned back around, and closed his eyes to focus his power for a moment more before steadily rising up off the ground. Thorgas and Slug watched him wobbly float away for a minute before turning to head downstairs.

"Really," Thorgas commented. "The Split-Form technique?"

Slug grinned. "What, you didn't think he could do it?"

"I'm not so much surprised as I am... impressed, I suppose," Thorgas mused as the two of them started down the stairway. "Despite its simplicity, it's a very hard technique to learn, much less master. Especially at such a young age. I mean, I myself can only maintain three clones."

Slug let out a quick chortle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Thorgas playfully interrogated. "How many can you make?"

"Not telling," Slug retorted, amused with himself. "Nonetheless, Kuji's not to be underestimated. For one born and raised in the Dragon Clan, he's quite multi-talented. I'd almost label him a prodigy."

Thorgas nodded as they went through the door into the tavern's interior. "Katatz must be quite proud."

Shio kept to herself at her table in the corner, casually sipping on her drink as she watched the patrons come and go. The Moon was a more prominent and popular place than she'd expected, making it fairly easy to blend in unnoticed. Good thing, too. Bounty hunters like herself weren't exactly an uncommon sight in major spaceports like this, but it'd still be in her best interest to stay incognito. After all, she was still merely tracking her target and gathering information at this point. Until she could decide between future options, it'd be best to stay out of trouble.

"Speaking of trouble," she murmured to herself at the sight of a few incoming customers. It was a rugged-looking group of about a half-dozen individuals. They had tanned skin and pitch-dark hair of various shapes and lengths, most of them had their long, simian-like tails wrapped around their waists like belts, and all of them smelled vaguely of dried blood and cheap, expired food.

Saiyans.

"Ugh..." One of them complained, rubbing his temple. "Regarian Ale should be illegal."

"It is."

"Then it should be MORE illegal. Nothing else to do but drink now, anyway." He raised an arm and bellowed towards the counter. "Hey, can we get some service here?"

A young, shapely waitress noticed, nodded, and meekly took several cups and a pitcher of some generic-looking beverage over to them, which they abruptly snatched up. As she scurried back towards the kitchen, Shio took better notice of her. Her darker skin had been a clue, but now her short, silver hair becoming briefly visible under the hood she wore, as well as the small, triangular marks above her eyes, gave her away as another of Shio's own people. She's Sodian, huh? Shio thought to herself. Looks like she managed to get off the planet somehow. Got herself a job, too. Good for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the Saiyans, unfortunately just a few tables from her, spoke up again.

"Geez, so what now, Zunim?" One of them, fat and bulbous and the exception to the wrapped-around tail trend, asked another between gulps of his drink. "Egh, this stuff's horrible." He took another large sip anyway. "They got the boss, got our ship, got our supplies..."

"I know, I know," Zunim, the evenly-proportioned one with the headache, and apparently the impromptu replacement boss, replied. "I guess... We gotta get passage on other ships somehow. Find our way back to the convoy..."

"They took most of our money, too," another Saiyan commented, dressed in dark clothing with his hair covering the entire right side of his face. He held up his cup. "I don't even know how we're supposed to afford these drinks."

"I know that!" Zunim snapped, and took another large gulp. "If we have to, we can..." He groaned. "Find normal jobs. Earn up enough money to get off this planet." He folded his arms on the table, lowered his torso down and glared at nothing in particular. "Fuh. This is demeaning. We're Saiyans, damnit. We shouldn't allow ourselves to end up so belittled as this." He sat back up straight and took another large swig.

"I... I don't know," another, leaner Saiyan with tall hair mumbled, inebriation beginning to set in. "How that job could have been botched so badly..."

"If Zunim's right," a taller, muscular Saiyan commented. "Then it wush doomed from the start."

"Right," Zunim growled. 'It'sh all that damn Namek's fault! He was there all along, learning all our plans, waiting to get us all together before he squirmed out from under his rock to snatch us!" He yelled as he crushed the metal cup in his grip like paper, the remaining alcohol inside spilling out onto his hand. "I coulda beat him. But I wasn't prepared for him," He continued his drunken rant, soliciting shouts of agreement from his crewmates. "I couldn't transform, either... With three suns, this mudball never has any night, never gets a decent full moon..." He threw his arm up and bellowed, "This whole freaking planet was against us!"

Naturally, the drunken rant was causing quite a stir. Shio was becoming uncomfortable, as were the rest of the bar's patrons. She considered getting up to do something, or at least moving to another table, or a different floor… until suddenly, someone stepped in for her. Unfortunately, it was quite a bad choice.

"Um... excuse me," the young Sodian waitress addressed them, trembling in fear the whole time. "C-could I please ask you to lower your voices? Some of the other customers are becoming upset, and..." She stammered as Zunim slowly stood up in front of her and glared. "a-a-and..."

"And what?" Zunim practically spit his words. "They want ush to stop? To leave? To shuccumb t' them?"

"N-no..." The girl was practically crying. "Just..."

In a drunken rage, Zunim threw his crushed cup past her at full force, it zooming past mere inches from her head, eliciting a quick shriek of fright from her as she recoiled. The cup nearly missed a few other patrons as it flew, before smashing through a piece of cheap pottery on a shelf and embedding itself in the wall. Zunim continued yelling.

"We are Saiyans! We're strong!" The small amount of dust around him kicked up and was blown away as Zunim inadvertently powered up in his anger. "And we will not be ordered around! Especially. Not. By. YOU!"

He swiftly smacked the terrified young waitress across the cheek. As she stumbled backwards towards the floor, Shio and several other equally enraged bystanders swiftly stood, not intending to allow this to continue.

Screw my cover if everyone else is doing it, Shio thought. No way I'm letting this dirtbag get away with striking the poor girl, and to top it off, she's a fellow Sodian... She gulped in anxiety. I don't know how much I can do against a gang of angry Saiyans, but...

"Everyone, back off."

All eyes turned to the source of the commanding voice. It came from another corner of the room, the one opposite of Shio. There stood two tall, burly Namekian warriors, one older and battle-scarred, the other younger and broad-shouldered. The older one spoke again.

"We'll handle it."

A good portion of the patrons began to carefully filter their way out of the room as Thorgas and Slug calmly walked over to the spot of the incident. The older one knelt down next to the girl and picked her head up off the ground. Groggy, she turned to meet his eyes with hers, one of which was swelling to complement the bleeding mark on her cheek.

"...Sir Thorgas..."

"Hold still, Chlori. I'll help." His free hand began to softly glow, and he placed it against her wounded face. She allowed her eyelids to close as the remaining bystanders witnessed her wound close itself and the bruising fade away. She reopened her eyes, sat up straight, and put a hand to the area. She then smiled up at the old Namek, slight tears budding on the borders of her eyes.

"Ah, thank you so much..."

Thorgas smiled warmly and helped her up. "No worries. Now," he motioned towards the back kitchen. "You might want to get clear..."

She nodded and complied, running back to join her boss. Thorgas turned towards the gang of Saiyans. One of them, the leader, was snarling in barely-suppressed rage and scowling at Slug, who simply stood there, his arms folded, with a proud smirk.

"So we meet again. Zunim, was it?" Slug taunted. "I've got to hand it to you, not many people I fight manage to actually escape. You're a pretty clever monkey."

"Y-you..." Zunim clenched his fists at his sides and ground his teeth, a bulging vein visible on his brow. "You've ruined me... I'll kill you..."

"This is him, Slug?" Thorgas joined his son. "The one that got away?"

"The very same," he responded. "I know we're off duty at the moment, but," Slug tipped his head in reference to the angry Saiyans. "Feel like bringing this one in, anyway?"

"Sure, why not." Thorgas gently removed his outer coat, and cracked his knuckles. "...And here I thought it was going to be a boring evening..."

"Don't you dare belittle us, you green bastards!" Zunim spread out his arms as he yelled. A bright aura formed around him, knocking away the immediate tables around him as he powered up for battle. The rest of the gang followed suit. "Let's go, gang!"

Two of the six Saiyans darted out and to either side of the two Namekians, and another jumped forward and up, flipping around in midair to land behind them. The remaining three, including Zunim in the middle, took a similar formation in front, effectively surrounding the green warriors. Slug smiled, and motioned to Thorgas to his right.

Six against two. Not very good odds.

"I'll take the ones on the left."

With a yell, the Saiyans jumped in and converged on their targets. The rear-right one threw a hard, direct punch at the back of Thorgas' head, but he easily ducked down to avoid it. Planting his left hand on the ground and whipping his legs around from his left, he hit the Saiyan in the legs and knock him down off-balance. At the same time, another Saiyan charged at Slug, arms out in intent to grapple him. Slug countered by backing up a few steps and stretching his right arm forward in order to grasp the Saiyan by his shirt. He then swung the Saiyan around his left side, bringing his head crashing into the ribs of the one Thorgas had tripped, both of them flying off a few yards and crashing into a table.

The one in the rear left had had jumped into the air, meaning to kick Slug in the head once the other had pinned him. The tables were turned on him when Slug used his momentum to drive a powerful kick straight upwards into the Saiyan's gut. He was propelled upward, crashing into and leaving a large fissure in the ceiling, before falling back down to the floor, unconscious.

Five against two now. Those odds were getting even worse.

Zunim and the remaining two lackeys, one in front of Thorgas and the other in front of Slug, who was now facing the opposite direction, decided not to recklessly charge. Rather, they each leaped back towards the edges of the room and began firing repeated ki blasts at the warriors. The blasts seemed to hit their marks, and the floor splintered apart at the point of impact, scattering pieces of wood and clay and kicking up a large amount of dust.

"Did we get 'em?"

"No."

Startled at the sudden voice behind him, one of the Saiyan thugs quickly turned, only to receive a spinning kick to the head from Thorgas. He went flying across the room, doing several midair barrel rolls before tumbling to a halt against the far wall, out cold.

Four against two. Not a good place to be.

Meanwhile, the other two whom had collided earlier had recovered and were flying towards the Zunim-focused Slug, intent on joining the remaining unharmed one in ganging up on him. Thorgas reacted, diving headfirst into their path. He went into a handstand, and thrust both his legs straight upwards, nailing a Saiyan with each foot. They went flying straight upwards into the ceiling, one of them hitting the already-weakened spot and crashing straight through into the second floor of the tavern. He hit his head on a steel rafter and fell back down to the first floor, knocked out.

Three on two. Now it was getting hopeless.

The second one attempted to counter-attack, pushing himself off the ceiling and directing a kick back down towards Thorgas, but the seasoned warrior easily sidestepped it, then drove a shattering punch to the Saiyan's gut. He blacked out, and slumped to the floor.

Two against two, now. Not a chance.

Realizing the futility of the fight, the remaining unharmed Saiyan began to panic and frantically assessed the situation. Thorgas wasn't looking, and Slug was busy with Zunim. He jumped to the wall on his left and rebounded off of it, making a mad break for the door.

Needless to say, Thorgas was actually quite aware of him, and was prepared with about a half-dozen different ways to deal with him. However, something else caught his attention from Slug and Zunim's direction, and he whipped around to focus on them instead.

Zunim was suspended a whole yard above the ground, Slug's broad hand coiled in a tight grip around his throat. Zunim was coated by a crackling, electricity-like blue aura, which flared and shimmered as he struggled. As he flailed, grabbing at his assailant's hand, the aura also sparked and "attacked" the point of contact between the two.

"Y-you... kill...n-noo... kkkkcghk..."

The aura began to fizzle and fade away, as Zunim's face went pale. His struggling slowed almost to a complete halt, and his eyes began to white out as Slug choked the life out of him. Thorgas stared in a horrified stupor as Slug stood there, boldly holding him up. The younger Namekian's face was twisted into a sinister sneer, and his wide eyes were like that of a madman, as he reveled in his prey's suffering.

"I told you..." He hissed from between his grin-clenched teeth, "...You wouldn't escape me again..."

Thorgas snapped out of his shock, and rushed to his son. Bosa had been right; something was very wrong!

"Slug! STOP!"