Accounts of Dr Sleet

I began today with a small snack with my Shrimponian test subjects. The Shrimponians, if you didn't know, are a race of miniscule crustacian-like people, who sometime ago the Planet Trade Organization conquered... and who my race found to be delicious, each one being a small, juicy mouthful. While my brother and nephews simply ate the creatures, I had developed a somewhat embarassing habit of "playing with my food", as Cold described. The ritual is thus: I outfit two Shrimponians with tiny weapons, make a little speech, and have them fight each other; in my speech today, I informed my playthings that the loser of the match would be my snack, while the winner would be spared today's experiments and have the honor of being my pet for the day.

Thus did the fight begin; however, while it had a very entertaining start, the match had barely begun before it was interrupted when my visitor blasted my door down; my gladiator snacks ran for cover. Had I known who it was, I wouldn't have kept him waiting; I made to apologize, but he was livid.

COOLER: "Does his madness know no end? Will he destroy everything our family has worked for?"

SLEET: "Good to see you too nephew. And no, I have heard nothing new, so I can only assume your father's plan remains the same as it has been since he returned to find where the Namekians have relocated, and use their so called 'Dragon Balls' to bring back your brother."

COOLER: "He clings to such stupidity? And even so, why then has he still failed to avenge the monkeys who killed him?"

SLEET: "The same reason as before, in case the Namekian location cannot be found."

COOLER: "What, did he not hear the news?"

SLEET: "Oh, what news?"

COOLER: "Word just arrived that there was a battle on the monkey's planet. Buried at the bottom of what was very overly long report, it's been confirmed that these spare dragon balls Cold was trying to keep active are no longer any use to us."

SLEET: "You don't say? And this being news of earth, all this would have happened months ago, right?" (Cooler doesn't respond) "Well perhaps you should go blow it up on his behest? As you long as you keep your distance, blast it from a moon away or so..."

COOLER: "Hmph, he would like that wouldn't he? Out of his hair? I think not."

It's just as well that he said no; ever since I heard of the being that defeated my nephew on Namek, I've harbored an ambition to capture a Super Saiyan, bring it back to my laboratory, and dissect it. For such an animal to exist, science would demand no less of me.

SLEET: "Well, I suppose this would only leave the orbs on this 'New Namek' then, wouldn't it?"

COOLER: "A planet he still hasn't found. Uncle, I'm becoming concerned..."

SLEET: "Oh nephew now please, I do beg you, do not insult my intelligence; even for you, that would be too cruel." (Cooler scowls) "We both know full well that what 'concerns' you is the opportunity your brother's death presented; if anything, you're worried that your father will succeed..."

COOLER: (threatening) "Be careful, Uncle..."

SLEET: "Dear nephew, I am expert in being careful, and in a good many other things; as to the real reason you are here, I will try to speak with my brother at the next opportunity to ascertain his intents, but as with so many things, I cannot make any promises."

COOLER: "And should certain courses of action become necessary? Can I rely on you to stand aside?"

SLEET: (mocking) "Oh my dear, dear nephew, why do you insist on wounding me? Why, standing aside for the 'necessary' is my greatest area of expertise yet!"

An interesting fact often noted about my life is that my first passion in the academy was not any of the sciences, but of political study and history; this soundbite is sadly banded about by those seeking to paint me in the courts as some scheming political figure, who true hidden desire is the shaping of imperial policy. However, anyone who has bothered to read my one and only work on the subject will readily see that even then, my first and foremost passion was understanding how power worked, rather than any primal desire to accumulate or wield it.

The work in question deals with the rise of my older brother, and how he became king of our planet and head of our multigalactic empire, the main focus being on how he defeated and eliminated all other potential claimants to the throne, save his own children and myself. I had found, when researching the work, that the two chief narratives of the genocide were both fundamentally flawed, and so found it best to work entirely from primary sources. The rebel scum had, I discovered, some valid points in their counter-narrative - sources do indicate, for example, that Cold did indeed mutate himself with more or less the sole purpose of taking the throne, which he felt was rightfully his, by virtue, he believed, of his father being cheated of the crown (and not, so the official story of the time claimed, in the pursuit of scientific knowledge). What I found interesting was that, despite this, the official story was correct when it claimed Cold had no intention of killing off nearly every member of his family; he believed, for many years after achieving his new form, that it would be possible to find places at court for most of his relatives, including many who passionately opposed his claim at the time.

This leads to what became the main thesis in my historical work - that what brought about the near extinction of the royal family was not malice or weakness on either side, but a fundamental failure to understand the new power posed by Cold's mutated form. Yes, factional intrigue, outdated honor codes, and plain weakness all played a role, I didn't take issue with the official histories there; but what truly ended the self-titled legitimist line was their dogmatic insistence that traditional military strategies and technologies would be sufficient to defeat what, they believed, amounted to a one man army. This is the insight that lead me to my true passion, which I pursue to this day - the recognition that failure to understand power, the stubborn refusal to quantify it, and belief in nonsense of war being an 'art', is what ultimately brought down the old order. I concluded the work with an appeal to subjects and rulers of the empire to never allow these mistakes to be repeated again; and indeed it was that very sentiment that has governed the majority of my life.

To this day, I have little patience for people who speak of powers being "incalcuable", or those who speak of nonsense about "the gods". If such beings as "the kais" or "Beerus" are real in any meaningful sense, then I refuse to believe that their power is somehow beyond comprehension. The universe is run by strength, and strength can be calculated; failure or refusal to do so amounts to barbarism. The goal of civilization is simple - for everyone knows their number, and by their number, their place. And there is no such thing as martial "arts"; power is fact, and facts are the purview of scientists, not artists.

Today, my brother sent Commander Sorbei to look into my research activities; we had a productive conversation, where I informed him of two devices I was working on. I would have covered more, but he lost interest in what I had to say when he was satisified I wasn't trying to mutate myself to a power level surpassing my brother. Still, I made the most of the opportunity to bring leaders of the Imperial Forces up to date on technology that I believe will become quite relevant to their way of doing things in the near future.

First I told of my container device, which I hoped to use to capture a Super Saiyan on Earth before the operation to blow it up was carried out; Sorbei reminded me that Cold was currently opposed to any such capture mention at the present, and was concerned that I might use this device to trap my own leige and brother. I responded that the container can only hold a power level of up to one billion, far below my brother's potential, and that satisified him. I then started to tell him about my "Ultimate Shield Device".

SLEET: "This is a prototype for a defensive shield I've been working on; it's based on the energy negating capabilities of warriors of the ursinoid race..."

SORBEI: "Wait, I thought we exterminated them?"

SLEET: "I managed to collect a few survivors for experimental study; anyway, the defensive capabilities are flawless, but you asked for something that could double as a trapping device..."

SORBEI: "And?"

SLEET: "Well, the shield does has the unfortunate defect of scrambling energy signatures, so it was a challenge to figure out how to give it commands from the outside..."

SORBEI: (sigh) "And I expect you're going to tell me how you fixed it?"

SLEET: "Well it was a very straightforward fix, I simply programmed the device to follow the instructions of the highest energy signature it detected..."

SORBEI: (sarcastic) "Oh, is that all? Well that's very useful, I'm sure..."

SLEET: "Actually, even then, there are cases where it might not be able to get an accurate energy reading of all potnetial adversaries in the area; in which case, I've designed it to calculate said level based on observed combat."

SORBEI: "Oh well then, so long as the user beat up whoever the thing tells them to, it will do what they say then?"

SLEET: "In some circumstances, yes."

SORBEI: (facepalms) "Is that it then? Can I go now?"

Today I visited my brother for the first time in over a year; last we had spoken, he had only recently learned to acquire his Third Form, and was going to proceed to develop his Fourth. With this achievement, he graciously lifted the ban he had placed on my self-mutation research; I have since taken full advantage of this new freedom, evolving myself into multiple forms.

I still recall the work I did helping his now deceased son develop his forms; Lord Frieza was indeed a powerful figure, and I believe he had the potential to acquire enough strength to challenge even those rare beings that even my brother stood in awe of. But alas, my nephew's natural talents were combined with a most unfortunate laziness and lack of imagination; his waste of a Second Form was practically criminal in its negligence. I admit, he was more impressive in devloping his Third and Fourth Forms, but he became complacent once again; his so-called "full power" was so pathetic in its improvements, I don't think it truly qualifies as a Fifth Form, something his brother at least managed.

By contrast, though I started out with a significantly weaker base form than my nephew - my last clocking prior to the procedures came in at 240,000 - I took each new evolution far more seriously, ultimately cumilating in a Fourth Form some 2,000 times stronger than what I started with. Personally, I prefer my Third Form, for purely aesthetic reasons; I think it well suits an intellectual like myself. I went with something somewhat similar to Frieza's Third Form, only where my nephew went larger and bulkier, I choose going toward a smaller, sleeker look.

I had even heard that my self-development had caused some alarm in Cooler, who has now managed to develop a Sixth Form for himself, significantly stronger than what I can manage; I would expect no less of my brother's son. Of course, none this would never be permissible if my brother were not also greatly successful in multiplying his own strength I have heard that in his Fourth Form, his power level is several times larger than what we managed to clock for this "Cell" at his most powerful.

However, when I found King Cold, he was still in his Second Form; he was in the hall of portraits, looking over the faces of past members of our family, many of whom he himself had slain. He was muttering, something I couldn't quite make out.

SLEET: "My liege?"

COLD: "Um yes, what is it? Oh yes, I sent for you, didn't I?"

SLEET: "Yes. Is this about the upcoming expedition to the recently discovered Namekian planet?"

COLD: "You have heard then?"

SLEET: "I like keep my ear to the ground; from what I've heard, the journey should be a few months each way." (considers his words) "You are still intent on doing this then, brother?"

COLD: (glares) "Do not forget yourself..."

SLEET: "I have not, my liege. In fact, as a show of loyalty, I wish to mention that your living son came to me some months back..."

COLD: "Yes yes, I know about his latest machinations."

SLEET: (surprised) "And you're still allowing him to live?"

COLD: "He is also my son. I know full well how those two feel about each other, but..."

SLEET: "Might I be permitted to speak freely, my liege?" (Cold considers, nods) "Lord Cooler's complaints are not without merit; now that his brother is dead, he does now have the higher power level, meaning he should, by virtue of his strength, inherit the position of the favored son. There is talk, my king, of your desire to bring back Lord Frieza being, well..."

COLD: "Madness?" (Sleet nods) "I will want their names, to see those that say this executed; but yes, I was aware that these things were being said."

SLEET: "But then... well, why? Lord Frieza was poweful, that is true, but in so many other respects, he was... Well my liege, I fear I don't know how to put this properly..."

COLD: "You do not need to; I know full well of my son's defects brother, of both their defects. I do this because..." (looks away) "I wonder if you are even capable of understanding."

SLEET: "I may not be." (bows) "But as you once so fond of saying, it is not necessary that I understand your motives; only that I obey."

The Namek expedition was delayed by a rather interesting conflict, with some of the last adversaries any of us would ever expect. About the same time as the earth's battle which disabled their dragon balls, a band of pirates appeared out of nowhere and began a campaign of interference with the Organization's planetary holding and general harassment of our forces. Each of the five members of this band was impressively powerful, holding a power level certainly greater than what I had managed to achieve; their leader was called "Bojack", and it seemed the other four worhsipped him as a kind of god.

From what information we could gather, all were of the same species, but alas not one which our libraries had any record of. This lack of information piqued my curiousity, so I sought to join my brother in his expedition to contain and eliminate these nuisances; it was my hope that I could see of their band captured for analysis and experimentation.

When I arrived at the battleground, one of the pirates' number had already been killed, foolishly trying to take on my brother itself. The remaining three - a female, a small one, and a large one with a goatee and mohawk - surrounded the king and sought to ensare him using some kind of invisible wire. From the way they were using the wire, I was able to acertain that their wires derived their power from the struggle of the person they ensared; in other words, the more Cold struggled, the tighter the bonds would become. I voiced these conclusions to my brother, and suggested that he try "flaring" his energy; he sternly informed me that he did not need my insistence, but proceeded to try my advice anyway, and thus broke his bonds. Freed of the constraints, he wasted no time in going straight for the leader of the pirate band.

And I must say, the fight between my brother and this thing called "Bojack" was a spectacle to behold, if a regretably brief one; the pirate leader showed off its strength, bulging its muscles, changing its skin tone, and transforming its hair a bright shade of red. I informed the king of his opponents power level, and he responded by elevating himself straight to his Fourth Form. This being the first time I had seen my brother's progress, I was quite impressed; his evolution was a thing of beauty, somewhat similar to his deceased son's "full power" form, but without sacrificing as much in terms of height, and with the bulging of his muscles being far less unseemly, his arms, chest, and general body remaining far more proportioned on the whole. Against this strength, the pirate's head was crushed in a matter of seconds.

When the question of what to do with the remaining three pirates was raised, I offered a suggestion that these beings of significant power be given an ultimatum, to join the Frieza Forces or be destroyed; I pointed out that the latest Ginyu Force was pretty abysmal compared to its predecessor, and that it was about time our elite forces "stepped up their game". My brother accepted this proposition, and offered me direct command of the smallest and weakest of the trio; I am told it is called "Bujin". The other two (the female and the remaining large one) are to begin initiation into the forces, which will include a great deal of training; within a year and a half or so, they should each see their already impressive power levels multiply several times over.

The expedition to New Namek was a failure; while our forces were successful in gathering the dragon balls and summoning the wish granting creature, the procedure required the ritual to be performed in the native Namekian toungue, for which we needed the assistance of the locals. Our captive used the opportunity to wish himself and his surviving people off of the planet. Alas that our own translators were not functional enough to prevent this fiasco by rendering the vulnerability unnecessary; fortunately however, they were functional enough to ascertain the location of the Namekians teleportation they have relocated to another planet, which we already know the location of, and are currently en route to with our army. Further to our benefit, one of our soldiers managed to wound the Elder Namekian before he could teleport; if he dies, their balls will become useless again, and they will be stuck on their new planet for some time... just enough time, in fact, for us to catch up to them.

And on top of this, I will say that, while the official design of the expedition did not manage to bring success, I was able to achieve a small victory in the name of science. One of the younger natives defied me when I informed them of the inferiority of their mystic ways, when compared to the rational calculation of our superior civilization; he dared to say I was "weak" for using a scouter, and even said he had "felt" my nephew's full power, I admit I became curious as to whether his confidence was justified, so I tested him, asking how much powerful I was in my then current Third Form. He correctly guessed, and so I decided to put his professed ability to a more difficult test. My brother was given occasion to transform directly from his Second to his Fourth Form; I couldn't help but smile, looking upon the horrified face of this small green inferior specimen, as what he professed to "feel" was clearly beyond the confines of his comprehension.

Anyways, as to the failure of the overall mission, it is but a minor setbakck; after all, while it will take us about a year for our forces to get there, and King Cold has been meaning to blow up the planet called "earth" for some time now...