He'd been hunting the monster for six days when he finally found it again. He was tired by then, knew that his body was on the very verge of giving out. Six days with hardly any sleep, and only the food and water provided by the automated systems of his armour. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and each step was an effort for him as he made his way slowly through the thick jungle. Mist hung heavy in the air, and above the trees, the crimson sky blazed with light and life. In the distance, the calls of some predatory avian creatures, they circled, spiralling higher into the sky.

He moved. Step by step, inch by inch, careful as any experienced hunter had to be. The mud was slippery underfoot, and if he wasn't cautious, he could fall and create enough noise to alert the beast to his presence. He stopped, and knelt down, the mottled brown of his armour took a moment to adjust, and then shifted into a more earthy hue, the sensors set into the skin of the carapace noting and mimicking his surroundings.

There were tracks in the mud. Two-legged, with a deep in-step which promised powerful and muscular legs. A killer for sure. He felt his stomach lurch, as it always did when it came to the hunt. A mix of anticipation and fear forming a heady concoction which threatened to sweep over his sleep-deprived mind.

No. Couldn't allow it. Had to focus.

The drugs flooded his system, bringing with them a sharp, cool wave of energy and strength. He'd pay for it later, but for a while, the need to rest faded into a dull background ache that he could ignore.

Time to move. The prey was close. Sensors on his armour had noted its presence a few times, but after six frustrating days of cat and mouse, he was finally close enough to find some actual signs. It could be over in hours, or even less time if he was lucky.

If he was very unlucky, it could be over in minutes.

The helmet screen displayed a constant read-out, marking the path of the footsteps for his old eyes. There were scans showing the depth of the prints, the space between each one, and how this might factor into the size and power of the beast he hunted. It had been walking heavily, too heavily even for one of its kind. Hurt then? Blood. There was a drop of it off to the side of the tracks, the drops so small that he would have missed them if not for the sensors of his armour.

Behind his visor, he smiled.

Good. So the locals hadn't died without cause. They had wounded it, as he'd first hoped when he saw the gut-wrenching sight of their abandoned towns along the border to the forest. It was hurt. Not too badly, but in his experience, creatures like this didn't tend to react well to any wound at all. It had been angry, and lashed out at the villagers, then, burned out, retreated here to heal.

Never knowing that he was stalking it every step of the way.

A flash of yellow pinged across his HUD, noting a rising power level to the east of his current location. The tracks led that way too.

He shouldered his rifle, and followed them.

Three hours later, he was still patiently stalking his prey. He was moving slowly, each footfall careful, each breath sharp, and low. Even as much as a mistimed gasp could betray his position, beasts like this had sharp senses. He'd killed enough to know that.

He'd killed a great many of them indeed. Juveniles, mostly. The ones too young to be left to mature. The ones who'd grow up to be a much bigger threat if he let them go. There was no such things as a harmless monster when it came to these things, even the youngest had to be destroyed before they grew into their size and power. Sometimes, he was too late, and by the time he came to an area, the present beast had already reached its prime. Those were the hardest hunts, the most desperate, the most bitterly fought. Beneath his armour, his skin was scarred and wounded from a dozen such battles, and there wasn't a single one he could say that he had walked away from easily afterwards.

Hopefully, he'd come here in time. The forest was still mostly intact, and there was a minimum of fire and destruction, so he was optimistic that this was indeed the case.

Sometimes, it felt like he lived his life for times like this. Those careful moments, the hunts where he knew that win or lose, it rode on the very edge of the blade. That speed and cunning and his suit of powered armour were all that stood between himself and his enemy, and that when he was done with his work, another one of them would lie bleeding at his feet.

He hated them. Hated them with a passion known only to those who had suffered and lost everything. All he had left was the armour he wore, the gun at his side, and his sole reason for existence was to act as a subtle guardian, never known nor thanked. Just a shadow who made sure that none had suffered as he had once before.

That was all there was to his life now. All he needed there to be. True, for most of the time, he was mired in the memory of what he had lost, of loved ones slain, and family destroyed. Here and now though, he was in the moment. Riding the thrill of the hunt. There was nothing and no one but himself and his target. Perhaps he'd win, and perhaps by the end of the day, he'd be the one face down in the mud, bleeding out his last.

Whatever the case, he looked forward to it.

The treeline broke, and he slowed further. Letting his chameleon armour once more adjust the hues across his body. He paused by the shade of a large tree, using its shadow as cover.

He looked out across the clearing.

There was a river, running through the centre of it, trundling happily along, the water white and furious where it was driven over the sharp bed of rocks, but it looked clean and cold. Enough to remind him painfully that he hadn't drunk real water in almost a week. The sound of the river was a gurgling rush, a low-intensity roar that seemed to fill up the space left empty by trees. Around the river, there was growing a field of thick grass, which reached as high as a man's torso. It was green and vibrant, and probably what had killed the trees that originally dwelt here, if he was any judge as to the condition of the local flora.

But that didn't matter too much to him, because along with the river and the grass, there was a crude camp. A tent, which was merely the skin of some large grazing animals stretched over a skeleton of wooden poles, and a burned down pit where a fire once had been.

There was a creature sitting in the shadow of he river, dangling their hands into its flowing form. He zoomed in, and noted the faint traces of red washing along the current.

Blood.

The figure looked like a child, had to be younger than ten standard years. Spiked hair, sweeping backwards like a crowd. A cocky, arrogant face, with a body that wasn't quite muscular, but still spoke of vigorous exercise and conditioning. The boy had a brown tail, moving freely as he washed himself, and he could spot a healing wound in his side.

The target.

The old one brought his gun to bear. He knelt down, and locked the targeting systems to his armour's HUD. Instantly, numbers began to scroll down past his left eye. Calculations accounting for gravity, for kickback, and for the curvature of the planet. Local weather condition, his gun's current status, and a dozen other things as well. Once, it had been a distraction, but now it was comforting. Showing him that everything was working as it should.

His weapon was practically unique. Not one of a kind, but one of an increasingly limited edition. There were few like it left. It operated on a focused-energy principle, drawing power from its internal generator, and from additional wires connecting it to his suit, in order to build up to a shot of very high potency. It was slow firing. A sniper-type weapon. Rapid firing guns had been tried, to merely limited effect. These creatures needed to be put down hard, and the sacrifice of power for speed was rarely worth it.

One shot. It had to be one shot. Right to the head. Give no chance. No quarter. It might have looked like a child, but it was a monster with the blood of billions on its hands. A thousand dead worlds screamed for vengeance, a hundred living ones begged him to save them from their fate.

An adult monster would be beyond the range of even this weapon to handle. He'd have had to wear it down, or take it by surprise with a more powerful shot, risking draining his armour in only a few volleys if things went badly. This wasn't the case with a juvenile, especially with a feral who hadn't yet learned to properly control his power.

The reading on his HUD announced the weapon to be charged. He took one last moment to fix his aim, and fired.

In an instant, the space between the hunter and his prey was broken by a line of harsh, yellow light. Like a spear of energy had been hurled, covering the intervening space between them before a breath could be drawn. The young monster was fast, with good instincts. Even as quickly as the energy swept towards him, his head snapped upwards, and he did his best to throw himself to safety.

He took the hit to his shoulder instead of his head, and gave a howl of pain as a large, wet wound was torn, shredding ligament, and blackening bone. He was impaled, run through by the energy, and then it faded. The kid… the monster… fell to his knees. There was no blood from the wound, it was too well cooked for that.

The hunter cursed. Not a lethal shot, he had to-

The creature's eyes snapped up. His face was pale with pain, but there was no fear, instead, there was fury. His working hand came up, brimming with power, with gathered energy.

"Not good."

The monster let loose, obliterating the area where the hunter had been. Harsh light beat against his position, and he was forced to kick his personal shield into high mode just to survive. Even so, he was battered and thrown backwards, smashing into a tree with a painful thud. His armour absorbed most of the impact, but it was enough to send his shield sputtering out.

Red lights flashed before his eyes,

Shield Disabled. Repairing…

Weapon sync compromised, restart?

"No." He muttered. "Disengage."

There was a hiss, and the wires that ran from the weapon to his armour detached, writhing like living things for a moment as the gun fell from his hands. Useless now. It was too slow to fire.

The enemy was coming. The monster charging, his useless arm trailing behind him. He let loose a roar, a savage, beast-like snarl. Nothing good about it. Nothing like any civilized species should make.

"RRAAARRRRGHH!" The monster gave a wordless scream of rage and hate, the last sound that so many had heard before they were taken to the long dark.

Not him. Not now.

The hunter moved. Rising to his feet to meet the attacker. His species was nowhere near as fast or strong as the little monster's, even at the best of times, and he was old even by their standards. But his armour was well maintained, servos and mechanical tendons tensed and released, lending him strength and speed beyond that which was his right.

But he was still the underdog here.

The creature came at him with a wild swing, he ducked, and the boy's fist ploughed into a tree, shattering it instantly, and sending splinters of wood raining down around them. The hunter kicked out, landing a blow to the gut that knocked the wind from his foe.

"Divert power to electrical generators."

Confirmed.

There was a slight change of tone as his suit followed his command, and then a crackling hiss as his hands became wreathed in lightning. He struck forwards, lancing a straight hook to the boy's nose, but the monster swayed away. His attack went wide, and then the boy was under his guard. The hunter grunted as even his armour failed to fully block the next kick that the monster landed, sending him tumbling across the ground.

Pain exploded as his body dealt with the impact, he came to a stop, and rose quickly, but the creature was faster still, it caught his desperately lashing fist, and threw him into the air. Before he could recover, two more blows, this time, against his face. He heard something metallic shriek and break, and his HUD went dark. This didn't matter too much, though, for the next attack tore his broken helmet away, exposing his face to the putrid stench of the deep jungle. He gasped, sweat beading his forehead, the air feeling cold for one who had been locked away for so long.

He wasn't going to give up. His hand shot out, locking around his enemy's wrist, and discharging as much electricity as he could into it. The boy...the creature...the monster… the Saiyan screamed in pain, and threw him off, staggering back. The hunter landed again, and forced himself to his feet. He could feel the pain of a deep, long wound across his forehead where something had cut him. That didn't matter now, however. The Saiyan was recovering, eyes glittering with malice and evil.

The hunter moved first. Super-charging his gauntlets with a command, and filling the air between them with crackling, screaming electricity. The Saiyan howled again, the flickering tendrils strobing over his body. The hunter pumped enough power into him to kill any other species a dozen times over, but still he refused to fall.

Warning: Energy capacity approaching critical levels. Thirty-Two percent.

Twenty Nine Percent.

Twenty One Percent.

The Saiyan was staggering back, and the hunter followed, blasting him with absolutely everything he had. But it wasn't enough. The monster was stunned, in pain, but it wasn't dying. A Saiyan never died easy if they could avoid it.

"Come on. Come on. Stop fighting and die."

Eighteen percent.

Thirteen Percent.

Nine percent.

With a motion that was half thought and half gesture, he cut the power, and for a moment, the Saiyan lurched wildly. In that split second, he dove forwards. A blade extended from the palm of one of his gauntlets, wreathed in a vivid light. He cut downwards, for the throat of the monster, but the Saiyan was away enough to catch his arm with an iron grip. The hunter cursed, and tried to pull back, but all the strength afforded to him by the most advanced armour his species had ever produced was still less than that of a Saiyan child.

He was desperate. Low on power, and with no shield, he knew he couldn't endure many direct hits. So he reacted by forcing the attack, using the Saiyan's grip on him as an anchor, he spun, and kicked the child directly in the shoulder where he had been wounded before. The Saiyan released his hold in the flood of pain, and the hunter bounded forwards. The knife flashed, and traced a path of red across the youth's throat.

The Saiyan clutched at his throat in pain and shock, blood welling between his fingers. He was dead and they both knew it, but he didn't fall so easily. He pushed forwards again, hurling the hunter into a nearby tree. It exploded around him, and he spat blood, trying to rise. The Saiyan was chocking, coughing. Still struggling to get at him.

Then, he went over. Falling forwards. He still wasn't dead. Trying to crawl, trying to breath. The hunter retrieved his weapon, and put a weaker round through the youth's head. The body spasmed, and then went still.

He sighed. Standing for a moment, and letting the adrenaline fade. The battle had been but a few moments, and yet he would have new scars to add to his collection by the time he was healed. He looked down at the body. In death, the monster seemed little more than a child.

That was one of the things that was treacherous about them. The Saiyans had killed a thousand worlds, and how many of those could have been saved if only they had known not to underestimate a child? Well, this was one that wouldn't grow up. Wouldn't kill for sport or pleasure. Wouldn't leave a trail of worlds, burning in his wake.

It was one small mercy, at least. One less monster in a universe full of them.

Very much feeling his age at that moment, he moved to check on his helmet, but knew with a despondent air that it was probably ruined beyond all compare. He was right. It was pulped, there was little left but scrap metal.

Fourteen weeks of research in the archives to track the known flight paths of Saiyan space pods, and six days of tracking across the surface of this blighted world, and what he had to show for it was a close fight, a dead Saiyan, and a ruined helmet. Once, he'd been so sure that it was worth it, but now he didn't know.

All he knew for sure was that he'd do it again and again.

Until one of them finally managed to kill him.

There was a beeping noise, which distracted him for a moment, before he realised that with his helmet destroyed, his suit was routing communications to his wrist com instead. He raised it slowly, and tapped a button which was revealed when an armoured compartment swung aside.

"Roran here." He said slowly, taking his time until his heart had stopped hammering. "Who are you, and how did you get this link?"

"Roran, it's me." Said the voice of one of his more well known customers. "I have another job for you, not quite like the last… I need someone to provide security."

"Not my job." The old man said. "I hunt Saiyans. That's all I do. All I'll ever do."

"You may need to do just that if this goes south. Look, I can't tell you the exact details like this, but let me just say that your experience will be needed. There are Saiyans coming, and I need someone who knows them and can hunt them to set up security."

"Will there be fighting?"

"Not if things go according to plan. The Saiyans are here on a mission of peace, as representatives of the Planet Trade."

"And you actually believe that?"

"Of course not. That's why I want to hire you. Three Saiyans. Can you handle that?"

"No, probably not. I may try anyway, though. Why did you come to me specifically? There are plenty of mercenary forces that would take half the price I demand."

"They would be useless, besides, I figure that this might be personal for you."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Their leader. It's Prince Vegeta."

"Prince...Vegeta…? That can't be, I thought he was dead with his world."

"Apparently not. You can see why I called you. If something does happen… Roran, I fear for my world and my people. I am their ruler, but I have no experience here. I want you on hand, in case things go badly. If they do, even if you can't save my world, if you kill Vegeta..."

"I could avenge my own..." The old man rumbled. "Very well, it seems you know how to lure me into it. I'll accept the job. Standard commission, plus double if things go badly."

"Granted." The man said. "Now get back here as fast as you can. They're being sent by Frieza… I can't exactly delay them."

"Don't worry, I can be there in a week. How long until the meeting?"

"Three."

"Good." Roran smirked, the blood clotting around his teeth giving him a sinister air. "That's enough time to get back and prepare some tricks just in case. I'll talk to you when I am back on my ship proper."

He closed the link, and for a moment, looked up into the red sky, lost in thought.

Prince Vegeta. Prince Vegeta. He never thought he'd have that chance. To slay the monster who descended from the king of all monsters…

It wouldn't quite fix their mistake. Nothing could do that. But it would be something of a start, at least.