Reverting back to being human is a truly indescribable experience. A bit tipsy, a bit disorientating, but that's to be expected when you start out fifty stories tall and end up five feet tall. Blessed to be back in the saddle, Baden gave a brief look-over of his surroundings, admiring how crisp they were now than they were before in his feral state.
Feeling a presence beside him, the pre-teen turned around and saw the friendly presence of his charge beneath him. Apparently catching his gaze, the boy looked up at him and smiled pleasantly. Amused by the kid's affability, the pre-teen playfully ruffled the kid's hair. "You shouldn't have come out here. Don't make a habit of it kid, but thanks for doing it this one time."
Basking in the mild compliment, Gohan cheerfully closed his eyes. Praise was something he thought was practically dead, so the unexpected compliment meant twice as much. Especially after all of the drama it took for him to get here. Still, the boy took the accolade in the only way he knew how. "No problem."
"No sweat. Now get outta here," commanded Baden, waving the boy away which he reluctantly did. Pausing to collect himself, the pre-teen averted his gaze away from his charge to Vegeta, who had, uncharacteristically, waited for him to finish whatever he had been doing with Gohan.
Vegeta had looked on at the scene with a strange curiosity. As he somewhat surmised, Gohan had defected from him in favor of this other Saiyan. Sadly, when this was all said and done, the boy would have to be killed. Traitors of all kinds were to be dealt with, no matter their age.
Looking at Baden now, the prince couldn't help but feel a tide of hope surge in. Surely now, that it was ape vs. man, that the ape would win. With his opponent gone, maybe, just maybe, he could kill the brat and reestablish himself as the complete and undisputed heir incarnate for the exulted ascension towards the fabled realm of the Super Saiyans. The world was his to rule again, and that bridge to paradise was but a turn away.
Vanishing out of thin air, Baden coolly rematerialized in front of Vegeta's face. Blankly looking at the other predator, the pre-teen stiffened his posture and darkly bored into the man's eyes. He wanted to show right there and then, that this fight was nowhere even close to done.
Hardly intimidated by the tween's thousand yard stare, the prince guffawed at the pitiful attempt to intimidate him, earning no small amount of irritation from the other boy. "I wouldn't be acting so tough right now, brat."
"Oh really, enlighten me?" asked Baden haughtily, ridiculing the very notion with his insulting tone. He and Vegeta differed in many ways, but they both shared an equal distaste for being treated like they weren't the alpha dogs they were.
Hiding his contempt underneath his burly frame, the prince let his mouth do the talking instead of his head. "Am I supposed to be hearing something? All I'm hearing is the sound of an insect buzzing annoyingly around me."
Thoroughly aggravated, Baden's posture morphed from stiff to aggressive, catching Vegeta's inquisitive eye acutely. "I think the time for talk has evaporated, am I right?"
Vegeta didn't need the green light to go. Lunging forward, the Saiyan tried to pounce on his prey before the tween could react to his intrusion. But to his disappointment, the brat had eluded his grasp at the last possible moment. Whispering "damn it" to himself, the man vigorously twisted his head in all directions to scout out his quarry to no avail.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but you were dead wrong when you thought this battle was over when you cut off my tail." Reappearing on top of the prince's head, Baden added insult to his proclamation by striding over to the ridge of his enemy's widow's peak and smirked down at him. Satisfied with the growl he was getting, the tween smiled evilly at the thought that came to him. "Speaking of that, I never properly repaid you for severing my tail. Let me rectify that!"
Expelling a ki blast right towards the ape's eye, Vegeta was forced to clench his eyes shut and hope that blindness wouldn't come. Fortunately, as he opened his eyes, it hadn't come to that. The problem was that Baden had disappeared again in the meantime.
Snarling like a predator, the Oozaru cautiously began to walk while scanning his surroundings. "Come out, come out wherever you are." Swearing he saw something to his three o'clock, the Saiyan swerved around and fired a blast impulsively. "Face your death, brat."
Frustrated that his attack was met with nothing but a brisk breeze, Vegeta missed the subtle clues that signaled Baden's reemergence. Lamentably, the hothead only realized his folly when he felt a searing hot energy attack push him down and explode on his bare back.
Descending back down to eye level, Baden casually strolled on Vegeta's blisteringly hot back, eliciting a series of loud groans from the man he was walking on. "I say that my misfortune has been partially remedied."
The tween didn't know what hit him. His mere voice pissing off Vegeta, the pre-teen didn't expect for Vegeta's arm to come barreling backwards at him that quickly. Unready and ill-prepared, the boy met the attack head on and was carried away into a stone ruin.
Encased in the crumbling stone, the boy powered up and let the entire space cave in. Moving backwards, the boy flared his ki so that the rocks wouldn't crush him as he exited out the back.
Vegeta wasn't fooled. A foe of this caliber wouldn't die or be seriously injured by such a paltry event as a ruin coming down on him. Nevertheless, he had disappeared again and seemed to be able hide away from him whenever he wanted to his no small amount of irritation.
"Rodent," snapped Vegeta, flaring his ki threateningly as energy started to roll off his form. His eyes pretty much seeing red by that point. "Stop insulting my race by hiding around like a pansy. A true Saiyan would never scurry around like a rat."
Instantly reappearing on Vegeta's face, Baden looked smugly into the hothead's eyes. Antagonizing Vegeta was so easy and so enjoyable. "Then a true Saiyan probably should have their head reexamined."
Veins bulging comically, the Prince of All Saiyans snarled at the suggestion, utterly bamboozled that any self-respecting Saiyan would take such a dishonorable course. "Very well, then. As the Prince of All Saiyans, it's my solemn duty to rid the world of spineless Saiyans who put a blight upon my name. Prepare to die!"
The proclamation did nothing to worry Baden. False bravado had never really annoyed him, more like amused him—it was funny watching somebody act like a raging jackass. Truly hilarious. Nevertheless, he had to act with some caution against an enraged Vegeta—they were nearly equals in power, and he could prove to be a very painful opponent if underestimated too much. "Okay then, oh valiant lord, do your worst!"
Back-flipping off his nose, Baden smirked as Vegeta brought his hands down on the place he formerly was stationed. To add even more amusement to the situation, the prince had left his entire grill open for attack by going for Baden on his nose. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up blindly. Producing and condensing the necessary power, the pre-teen made haste to volley the blast into Vegeta's grill before the bastard could rapidly bring his arms back down to defend.
Retreating and regrouping a couple paces back, the pre-teen couldn't help but snicker when Vegeta whined and growled about having his face attacked for the umpteenth time during the battle. It was extremely unbecoming, but it also happened to be extremely sidesplitting. Watching the "Prince of All Saiyan" throw a tantrum truly didn't grow old.
What could grow old was his after reaction. Regaining his wits, the hotheaded quickly fired a blast in retaliation. This was fine, as Baden had ample time to swerve out of the way. Yet, in his haste, he didn't notice Vegeta jump into the air and pounce on him. Double axe handling his foe to the ground, the man finished his assault by swan diving on his vastly smaller foe.
Confident that he had squashed his nemesis like a bug, the prince began to snicker—then his snickering turned into chuckling—then his chuckling turned into boisterous cackling. "Serves you right, brat. Nobody insults the might of the Saiyan race and gets away with it!"
All that glitters is not gold, though. To the Oozaru's absolute shock, he found himself slowly but surely being raised into the air. Nestled below him, straining against the immense weight of his immeasurably larger opponent, was Baden. Although his enemy's hadn't tried to crush him against his own weight until now, the tween could consent that it wasn't a bad strategy. It may've worked if he was just a tiny bit weaker.
Struggling to push the great ape up, the pre-teen felt his arms shiver and burn as he tried to summon the energy needed to rid himself of his enormous burden. Finally finding the energy to strike back, the boy smirked as he conjured a blast and fired it at point-blank range. Rocketed into the air, Vegeta eventually was able to wiggle himself away from the blast to land back onto the ground in a heap.
Gathering himself, the Oozaru let his arms dangle in front of him as he simpered at Baden who was calmly striding by. The more he looked at that smug, cocksure face the more he wanted to bore a hole through it. "You will die for this, kid. I will not be humiliated by some brat!"
Baden remained unfazed by the admission. Brushing his hand through his spiky hair, the boy sighed at the obstinacy his foe persisted on. "Empty threats don't intimidate me; you of all people should've learned this by now."
Stammering from the blind rage that was surging through his mind, the prince beckoned more energy to rise from within him to come to his aid. Showering himself with his own essence, the man turned his rueful expression on his amused foe. "Shut up, this instant. I don't know what you find amusing, but I will see to it that it ends now!"
"Come at me then," replied Baden, raising his arms and shoving them out of the way deliberately. "Show me that your words have merit and aren't just the posturing of the deluded."
Damn nearly blowing a gasket at the affront, the prince conjured up a beam, easily the largest blast used since the battle became boy vs. ape. Aiming the tremendous orb straight at Baden, the prince spat out the ray and sent it flying straight at the child.
Pushing his arms forward, Baden's hand came into contact with the massive beam. Immediately pushed back by the fearsome laser, the tween dug his foot into the ground and got his wits together before the beam could swallow him alive.
Stable and focused, the boy pushed back on the beam, which responded in likewise. Neither gaining the upperhand, the struggle devolved into a stalemate—one of which nobody seemed to be getting the advantage.
"Die, you no good piece of scum!" shouted Vegeta, pumping in more power to the beam.
Writhing against the might of the enlarged laser, Baden dug his foot even farther in the ground to gain leverage. Getting it, the boy smirked. `I'm so through with this crap.'
In the position to apply great swathes of force, the boy slowly began to pace forward, pushing the beam back ever so slowly. Soon enough, now that static resistance on the part of the beam had been snuffed out, Baden's pace quickened before releasing his hold on the beam before kicking it up into the sky like a beach ball.
Alleviated from the strain of holding that beam any longer, Baden averted his attention completely to the hotheaded prince, curious to see what his reaction would be. For a moment, the boy considered prodding the man but it seemed that such action would be unnecessary. Vegeta was doing a good job of that himself it appeared.
Back with the prince, there was no word to really describe what he was thinking. Distraught maybe was good, but so could bewilderment. It was a strange hodgepodge of anger, melancholy, frustration and disenchantment that really embodied what Vegeta's life had been. No matter how far he travelled, or the heights he scaled, that damnable bridge was always just out of view. Such as his life.
Floating up to eye level with the other Saiyan, Baden crossed his arms across his chest and scowled at the sulking monkey. "So, you're finally starting to understand what is really happening."
Refusing to say anything to his younger enemy, the Oozaru quietly stood his ground, his eyes glaring ruefully at his unmoved foe. Hate wasn't strong enough to describe the evil conviction he felt towards the tween. Nobody stood between him and his rights and lived to tell the tale eventually. Next to Frieza, this kid was the next member on his personal hit list. And that wasn't a club anybody should want to be a part of.
"Silence, eh," commented Baden, smugly smirking at the stewing prince. Contrary to how he was acting, Baden didn't really feel any pride in beating the prince of his race. Not because he was naturally humble or some kind of goody two-shoes, but because it was a simply an inconvenient aspect of his job. Unexpected complications happen, and generally they annoyed him even if they were strong challengers. Sure, he enjoyed fighting in most cases, but strictly only on his terms. Otherwise, he was too busy and too worried to truly enjoy himself.
Nevertheless, he maintained an outer façade of haughty pride. Vegeta was a character who didn't get a hint unless you made it really obvious, or at least that was what his intel had said about him. Humiliating him seemed to be the only way you could get him to submit. Because of that, Baden figured sounding like a blowhard would be a good idea to accentuate his point. "I want you to look up into the sky, Vegeta."
Obliging the boy's request so he didn't have to listen to his infernal racket, the man raised his head and gazed at the white moon he had created. Almost directly after locking onto the white moon, the tween began to ramble on again. So much for ceasing his infernal racket.
"Vegeta, you should know that at any point in this battle I could've blown up this moon. I could've eliminated you as a threat with just a flick of my finger at any time. In the end, you just weren't the challenge you thought you were." And then Baden blew up the moon.
Instantly feeling his body compress and shrink, Vegeta rapidly reverted back to his human form. Elevator feeling not withstanding, the Saiyan, miraculously, barely felt any discomfort from the sudden and dramatic change. It was just one form one second and another form the next.
Maybe that last part was a bit disingenuous. Vegeta did feel something—most of his power just melt away. Pretty much aware of the fact that he didn't have even a lay man's chance now, the man didn't know whether to resign himself to the end or deny what he was thinking and fight onwards.
Whatever Vegeta would have done didn't matter; that choice was made for him as it turned out. Materializing behind the prince, Baden harshly elbowed the man right in the base of the neck, making the hothead go limp. Sighing at how easy it was, the pre-teen caught the man before his body could splat across the ground. Walking towards a boulder in front of him, the boy gently eased the head-case onto the rock and paced away.
Savoring the slight moment of peace, Baden looked over his shoulder at an austere ruin and snorted indifferently. "You can jump out of there now if you will, Gohan."
Doing as he was commanded, the child hopped out of his hiding place while scratching behind his head sheepishly. He wanted to leave the battlefield, but he was too pulled into the battle to really leave and return to his room. But he also didn't want to get into an argument with Baden at that obviously tense time. Therefore, he had to find some kind of safe place to view the spectacle while avoiding detection simultaneously. Sure, the boy was somewhat aware of the fact that his goal was a pipe dream, but the boy's naïve optimism hadn't been completely annihilated.
"Sorry about that," recanted the demi-Saiyan, still acting apologetic about directly disobeying his guardian's orders. "But I really wanted to know what was going on. I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," interrupted Baden, kneeling down to his eye level. "As said before, don't make a habit of it. That said, I can see how you'd have an interest in what we were doing, so I can't really blame you for going against me this one time. Just don't do it regularly. Agreed?"
"Okay-dokie," replied the half-Saiyan, smiling as he accepted Baden's terms. Suddenly, the boy heard something buzz above him. Looking up, the boy swore he saw five large meteorites descend down approaching the planet. Curious and a bit concerned, the boy turned to Baden whom looked to be contemplating something seriously. "What is heading towards us?"
Snickering quietly at his charge's confusion, the tween gently ruffled the boy's hair while finding the right words to say to the boy. "They aren't a threat. I guess it's time that you met the rest of the family anyway."
Simultaneously jumping back, the two Saiyans narrowly avoided getting speared by their mechanical enemy. Skidding backwards, Raditz put his hand into the ice to halt his momentum, coming to an eventual stop in the meantime.
"That was a close one," chirped Raditz, shouting his remark all the way to Turles on the other end of the ice sheet. Averting his gaze back to Wheelo, the man was mildly surprised when the conduit was nowhere to be found.
Capitalizing on the irony of Raditz's comment, Wheelo appeared behind the long-haired Saiyan and attempted to bat him down with a swing of his crab claw. Unfortunately, reacting fact, Raditz ducked under the swing and avoided the back-breaking blow. Quickly jumping up, the brute scooted back and lashed his legs out at Wheelo while flattening his body, nailing the man right in the gut with his boot.
Catapulted away, the conduit immediately was pounced upon by the rabid duo. Dodging and blocking a furious flurry from the two rabid monkeys, the machine eventually grew tired of the assault and blew his opponents away from him.
Blown back by their foe, Turles and Raditz regained control of their bodies and landed smoothly back onto the ground. Panting heavily, Turles snarled as he found himself unable to shake the bone-racking exhaustion he was feeling. He had put everything into battering the beast, and now was only running on fumes. And that pissed him off, as much as he didn't want to admit it. "We have to find a way to outsmart him. You're not strong enough and I don't have the energy, as much as I loathe to admit it."
Snorting at his leader's unnecessary caution, the long-haired Saiyan shrugged off the suggestion. "I wouldn't say I'm not strong enough to fight this guy."
"How so? Even I couldn't put a dent into this piece of shit and I was at full power. What could you do that I can't?"
Turning to Turles, the long-haired Saiyan smirked as he dug through a pocket in his uniform. Pulling out a strange looking, almost overripe fruit that was already half-eaten, the man smiled as Turles's brow raised considerably. Taking a bite out of the rancid drupe, the Saiyan smiled as his power rose considerably.
Meanwhile, Turles was stupefied that Raditz even kept the perishing fruit he gave him, let alone rely on it in a time like this. Apart of him was proud of the man for his thinking, especially because it may save their lives in the long run. In fact, in the future, he would do that as well. It was a sound idea to have something to raise your power level in case you need it.
Yet, that sense of pride was overpowered by an even stronger emotion or view point: snobbish anger. Raditz was his underling. That fruit should've been his to consume. True, he claimed that they'd be equals eventually, but that time hadn't come yet—it may never come either. Raditz should've known that and should not have impulsively taken the fruit for himself. Perhaps it was wrong for him to interpret things that way, but it was the essence of his thoughts on the matter.
Nevertheless, Turles had to consent to the fact that what is done is done. They had Wheelo to go through before they could even think of going against one another. "You charge in forward while I flank, and maybe we just may get lucky."
Raising his fist into the air, the long-haired Saiyan laughed agreeably with the suggestion before pointing his finger at the mad doctor. "Now that's a plan I can get behind!" And without further ado, the man charged at the machine with his fist still raised in the air.
Equipped and ready for the frontal assault, the good doctor parried the fist and jabbed back in counter. To his minor disappointment, Raditz deflected the retaliatory strike and waltzed parallel to his side. Suddenly, the conduit saw Turles approach him from the other side and try to sweep his legs out from under him.
Moving quickly, the man jumped up over the sweeping kick only to discover that he had jumped into a set-up. Waiting for the machine to jump, Raditz grabbed hold of the doctor's legs and flung the man back down into the ground.
But things didn't end up entirely as the Saiyans had wished. Using his vastly larger frame, the conduit extended his arms forward at the perfect time to catch himself as he was being brought to ground. Performing an impromptu handstand, the doctor took advantage of the force of the blow to whip his legs forward and pulled Raditz right into his colleague.
Banging heads brutally, the two Saiyans face faulted onto the ice before promptly picking themselves back up. Head ringing, Turles pounded his fist into the solidified water before turning his attention back to the fight.
Lunging back into the action, Raditz and Wheelo took their best shots at one another. Then they took another shot at each other, then another after that. Tornado of strikes brewing, the two kept pelting each other with everything they had. Some attacks failed, others didn't. It didn't matter one way or another because neither even flinched when their opponent's attack connected. They just used the opening to attack in return.
Moving like a whimsical cyclone, the two embattled warriors remained ignorant of the blast Turles was powering up. Using the brief reprieve to charge an attack, the power-mad Saiyan was patiently waiting for the moment when the blistering exchange grinded to a halt to spring his ambush.
That instant came jiffy quick. The flesh and mechanical entities breaking up in a flash, Turles didn't wait around to spring his trap.
Noticing the sudden blast coming at the last possible minute, Wheelo glided forward, narrowly avoiding the blast by the closest of inches. However, his kneejerk reaction slid him right into Raditz's range of attack.
Elated that his opponent pretty much fell into his lap, Raditz seized the opportunity and buried his knee right into his opponent's waist before double axe handling the fool back into the ice. Finishing up his combo, the long-haired Saiyan pitched a ki blast into the conduit's back.
Explosion ripping apart the iceberg, fog rolled in over the remains of Wheelo, leaving Turles and Raditz uncertain about the condition of the mad scientist harbored deep within the fog. Was it worth diving into the mist and risking a potential ambush for the chance at a decisive knock-out punch? Nobody could really know for certain.
It was also irrelevant. Out of the blue, a thin blue beam came jutting out of the haze aimed right at Turles's heart. Reacting with reflexes forged from years and years of battle, Turles whipped his hand forward and deflected the beam like he was giving a very awkward salute.
Still disoriented from the abruptness of the prior attack, Turles was left entirely ill-prepared for Wheelo to rocket out of his hiding place and slam into him with his metallic shoulder blades. Carried away by the shoulder ram, the conduit pursued its prey in the air. Catching the man while in flight, the machine grabbed the Saiyan's ankles and wrists while stretching the man out. Turles's flexibility reaching its limit, Wheelo's sadistically smiled as he drove his knee into Saiyan's back, bending the man in the process like a ruler about to snap in two.
Satisfied with the debilitating blow, the machine relinquished his hold over the power-mad Saiyan and clubbed the man in the stomach with his interlocked fists. Chuckling as his enemy plummeted, the mad doctor was left unaware when the other Saiyan's friend came knocking.
"A two-bit piece of scrap metal will not be beating any Saiyan—today or any day. Your presence has been a thorn in our side for much too long!"
Wheelo didn't even have the time to form words before Raditz struck. Crashing into the cyborg's flank with devastating force, Raditz rolled to the side and front kicked the conduit in the waist before axe kicking the machine when the mad doctor bent down involuntarily from the front kick.
The long-haired Saiyan wasn't finished yet. Accelerating downwards, the brute intercepted his foe's drop by roundhouse kicking him while he plunged. Opponent propelling away from him in a perpendicular direction, Raditz regained the ground by teleporting above the mad scientist and drop kicked him.
`It's time to finish this.' Summoning a truly large quantity of ki, Raditz took a page out of Turles's playbook and began to pelt the spot where Wheelo came ashore. Hundreds of blasts were churned out of the Saiyan's hands as he shelled the machine in the truest sense of the word. One hit, then another and then another after that. Each explosion contributing and building to the one that came before it in some grandiose way.
`Time for the grand finale.' Panting from exertion, Raditz got in a couple of potshot before cutting off the ki to his hands. Of course, he wasn't done yet though. Raising both arms up together, the Saiyan produced the largest ki blast of the barrage and volleyed it at Wheelo.
The entire area became blindingly bright when that final blast detonated, forcing everybody to cover their eyes like if they were buffeted by a solar flare. Eventually, the intense glare lessened and the long-haired Saiyan could reopen his eyes and see for himself if all his efforts bore fruits.
And there stood Wheelo on the ground. Exoskeleton a little battle worn, but nothing decisive or deficient had occured. True Raditz's assault had proven to be damaging, but not as much as the long-haired Saiyan had been hoping for.
What had changed though was the gleam in his opponent's face. It was no longer the look of contented amusement that he had saw before. No, in its stead, he saw the brutal hunger of an apex predator: a being unsatisfied with anything but your complete demolition and evisceration. And Wheelo wanted to make point loud and clear. "Good effort but sadly an effort like that just won't cut it."
Keeping still as Turles and Raditz approached and encircled him, the machine stoically observed his two enemies deliberate quietly. Sure, he could break them up, but he wanted to crush their final strategy to pieces right then and there. Picking up on how their expressions changed, the conduit began to tense up in anticipation. "I see that you two are ready to continue the fight."
Raditz in front of him and Turles behind him, Wheelo braced himself for the moment that the two would charge him. Just as predicted, a moment later, the two Saiyans lunged at him. Turles coming at him from above and Raditz from below, Wheelo kept his discipline and stayed put until the final possible moment. At that instance, Wheelo hopped out of the way and axe kicked the two Saiyan's into each other.
Landing on top of each other, the two Saiyans quickly scurried away in opposite directions just as Wheelo's foot came crashing down on their vacated spot. Rolling back upright, the two Saiyan conjured up identical ki blasts and open fired at the conduit. Unable to get away from either beam, Wheelo erected a barrier around himself and let the blasts hit.
Knocked on his back due to the force of the explosion, Wheelo miraculously kept hold of his barrier and rode out the storm buffeting him. When the danger subsided, the machine let go of his barrier and stayed still as the smoke shadowed his form.
Meanwhile, on the outside without a clue about how to gauge the success of their attack, Turles and Raditz looked on at the cloud with trepidation.
"You think we got him, Turles?" asked Raditz, his voice a bit more tentative and doubtful than it normally was. If it wasn't very often that he was involved in a fight of this intensity and scale before, and it got to be very weary after a while.
Darting out of the smoke, catching both Saiyans by surprise, Wheelo snuck behind Raditz and whispered his answer to the man. "Not quite." Utilizing his temporary advantage of surprise, Dr. Wheelo cocked his foot back and released a bone jarring roundhouse kick straight to Raditz's ribcage.
However, before the mad doctor could follow up his debilitating blow, Turles reappeared and swept the conduit off its feet. The power-mad Saiyan wasn't finished yet though. While his foe was sprayed out supine in the air, the rogue lifted up his heel and soccer kicked the machine right at the base of its neck before mule kicking him in the ribs once the soccer kicked forced him upright again.
In a bid of rather strange luck, Turles had kicked the machine over to Raditz, who had swiftly gathered himself. Without even thinking about it, Raditz grabbed and restrained the cyborg, applying the full nelson to immobilize the robot.
Casually strolling towards the beleaguered machine, Turles smirked as his comrade urged him to just cream this asshole right there and then. Willing to oblige without any more encouragement, Turles began to quick-fire jab at the degenerate's waist to the man's great displeasure.
Irritated by the Saiyan's efforts, the conduit began to viciously use the back of his head to headbutt into Raditz. The first strike destabilizing the long-haired Saiyan, the conscious machine stuck again, and another time after that. Confident that Raditz would eventually succumb to the pain, the degenerate was thrilled when the vice grip holding his arms in place slackened.
Wrangling his limbs free, the mad doctor slammed the butt of his elbow down on Raditz's clavicle while also spinning around to catch another punch fired at him by Turles. Using the momentum and torque gathered by his revolution, the conduit lifted his claw-shaped foot off the ground and into Turles's quads.
Pulling on the Saiyan's hand, the mechanized man pivoted and cocked his hand back like he was about to throw a javelin. And that was precisely what he was about to do, except Turles was going to be his javelin. Primed and ready, the conduit took a step forward and hurled Turles right into his comrade at top speed.
Banging into each other, the two Saiyan crashed into the concrete-hard ice. Hobbling back up, both Saiyans began to sooth their throbbing heads. Frustrated by the stubbornness of his enemy, Raditz sighed and complained to his superior. "Damn, what are we going to do to beat this trash?"
"Real simple," stated Wheelo, after eavesdropping on Raditz's little tantrum. "You don't."
Anger and frustration reaching their apex, the long-haired Saiyan looked down and clenched his hand, a little stream of purple light filtering through the crevices in his hands "Oh, we'll see about that, now won't we!"
Unfazed by the brashness of his enemy's declaration, Wheelo put his arms on his love handle and scoffed at the long-haired Saiyan's threat. "I really wouldn't be doing that if I were you."
Brow raising quizzically, Raditz laughed at the advice. Flabbergasted that somebody would even say that with a straight face given what was going on at the time. "And show me why exactly I should heed your warning?"
Folding his arms behind his back, the mechanized degenerate gave off an aura that would be best described by the passage 'do you want to know.' Shrugging his shoulders apathetically, the robot obliged his foe's request. "Very well, then. Hold a second."
Vanishing with super-human speed, the scientist reappeared with Turles in front of him—obviously as some sort of human shield. "Care to kill your friend for your shot at glory?"
Flaring his ki aggressively, Raditz tried to instill a sense of fear into the cyborg—hoping that his audacity would spook his enemy into thinking that he was willing to blast through his ally just to get to him. False bravado was always a good way to act when you didn't actually have a clue on how you were going to proceed. Utterly clueless, the long-haired Saiyan averted his gaze to his comrade to see what his opinion on the matter was.
Turles wasn't making his choice any easier. The rogue was the very picture of neutrality, his face neither communicating a desire to live or to die. In reality though, Turles was just as confused and conflicted as his brutish ally—his manner of expressing it being the main mark of difference. He did want this enemy dead by any means necessary, but unlike the other more vengeful members of his race, he wasn't sure that throwing away his life was worth that price. So, he left the matter for Raditz to decide.
The tense confrontation intensified. Wheelo had not budged one bit—his composure hardly even phased by Raditz's posturing. He knew he had these fighters on their toes and he had no intention of letting up. "What's wrong? Afraid of hurting your friend? Don't tell me he actually means something to you? He does, doesn't he? How pathetic!"
Snarling like a trapped animal, Raditz so desperately wanted to wipe this menace off the face of the map. But he just couldn't, and there wasn't any more to it than that. Nevertheless, he had no come back for the allegations posed to him by Wheelo. However, he just may not need too.
"Special Beam Cannon!" Out of literally nowhere, Piccolo entered the fight with his most devastating attack already cocked and ready. In no position to evade or counter, the drilling attack slammed into Wheelo's brain casing. Fortunately for the machine, the Namekian toddler wasn't strong enough yet to break through the covering and fry his brains out. What it did do though was disorient the conduit—allowing a brief opportunity of escape for Turles.
And that was all the rogue needed. Elbowing the degenerate in the neck, the Saiyan rolled out of his cold steel embrace when the mad doctor accidentally released him. Turning to Raditz, the power-mad Saiyan roared at the man to shoot their enemy dead. "Now's your chance, send this piece of trash straight to hell!"
Smirking like a Cheshire cat, the long-haired Saiyan endorsed his comrade's point of view. "With pleasure. Saturday Crush!"
Attacking with the rawest amount of venom he could muster, Raditz showered his foe in his special attack. Engulfing the machine in its wide maw, the Saturday Crush swallowed the conduit whole and dragged the cyborg with it as it flew off into outer space.
Lightly panting from the effort he had exerted, Raditz looked up into the sky as his two comrades trudged through the ice to meet him. Standing side by side, the three gazed into the heavens wondering if they had finally finished the job. Had they won, had they achieved victory?
"You think he's gone?" asked Turles, intentionally trying to keep his tone neutral and reserved. Planet Earth had given him far much more trouble than he had envisioned—running into a potentially lethal opponent was not a part of his game plan. Beating an opponent of this caliber, albeit with significant help putting it lightly, harkened him back to the days where he was more of a low-level brute who would shout and holler over battles of this fierceness. That said, he was commander now and such behavior would be unbecoming.
"Doubtful," answered Piccolo, who had the blessing of ki sensing at his disposal. Although the mechanical nature of Wheelo's ki was far harder to trace, the Namekian did notice a massive pool of ki being generated above them. There was only one person on this planet other than them that could produce that much energy.
"What!" hollered Raditz, miffed that the green bean could insinuate anything other than his opponent's demise. "How!"
Opting to show his associates what he was meaning rather than explain it, the Namekian slowly drifted into the air as the dark clouds masking Wheelo parted. The cyborg was levitating in the sky with his body lying prone over the white archipelago. Arms and legs outstretched and posture relaxed, the conduit seemed at ease with the situation—like he knew he was going to win now.
"You thought this was over, didn't you?" cried Wheelo, his stern robotic voice rising in treble. "I've had it with you three, and all of your pointless scheming and conniving. In this blast, I have enough power to wipe all of you and this precious little planet from the very planes of existence! Die!"
The three amigos gulped as the mother of all blasts bared down on them. If that thing got to them, they surely would die. Not even a question about it. Dismissing their small stupor, the three flared their ki's and began to gather the energy needed to retaliate against the monster beam.
In a chorus of yells, the three comrades fired their most powerful beam attacks to counteract against Wheelo's. Piccolo threw in a Masenko, Raditz contributed a Double Sunday and Turles added in his Calamity Blaster. Meeting on their path towards Wheelo's Planet Geyser, the three beams merged and coalesced into one super beam.
Paths converging, the Planet Geyser and the fused beam crashed into each other. Almost instantly, the heads of the two beams grew in size exponentially, forming a perfect sphere at their meeting point. Immediately upon running into one another, Wheelo's attack gained the upperhand and began the process of pushing back on the combined efforts of his three challengers.
"Heave fellas, heave!" yelled Turles, who was really not in the mood to get killed today. They had not come this far, and done this much too just be swept under the rug. As long as he had a pulse, he would do anything to avoid that fate.
"Resistance is futile, all of you will die!" shouted Wheelo, pumping in even more power to his beam. He could just taste victory; it was so close he could swear he could smell it.
Their beam being pushed almost into their face, the three amigos could feel a cold bead of sweet run down their backs. They needed to throw more power in or they were dead men. "No more holding back! This asshole goes down, now!"
In sequence, each of the three increased the size of their beams. The extra power going straight to the super beam, the coalition attack slowly began to push the Planet Geyser back to a standstill approximately half-way between the two powerful groups.
Incensed by the continuing struggle, Wheelo upped the ante, adding in even more energy to his attack. "Do you honestly expect to beat me? Kill me? You pathetic fools, you just don't get it don't you. This is my battle, my glorious moment. None of you, and I mean none of you, are going to spoil my resurrection and ascension. Not today or any other!"
Back with their backs against a wall, Turles became more frantic and frenetic. He wasn't ready or willing to die yet, and that was the fate that was staring him in the face. His eyes darted from one side to another, to his clearly exhausted allies. Poor fools were giving it their all, but it wasn't enough. They were at their limit, and beating this foe would require more than that. "Everything. Give me everything; this opponent will be the death of us if you don't."
Ki flaring up again, the three comrades threw in another smidgen of energy to their beam, enough to halt the forward momentum of Wheelo's finishing attack. Angered by the continued persistence of his stubborn opposition, Wheelo's mechanical pincers began to shake with pure wrath.
Fortunately, the cyborg couldn't add any more energy to his attack, only maintain it. His power reserves, along with the battery from his lab, were almost drained to the fullest. Like everything else in the battle, this seemed like it was going to come down to attrition—and he was confident that he could win. So long as things stayed the same.
Fate had much different plans. Without warning, it hit. A searing ray slammed into his back, disrupting the flow of energy into his attack, leaving him helpless against the might of his enemies. Horror struck, the only thing the cyborg could do was turn around and stare into the face of his betrayer. He wanted to take in the cold, beady metallic eyes and thick grey, bushy moustache of his grim reaper.
Meanwhile, Turles, Raditz and Piccolo sensed this fatal disruption and knew the time to win was now or never. The stakes couldn't be any higher, and the deities above had granted them their miracle. And they weren't going to screw this up.
"It's the end of the line you freak!" roared Raditz, speaking for everybody in this dramatic moment. Limits and barriers breaking apart, a furious surge of power ran through every single member of the three. Pouring in everything, they all could swear that their sight was blinded and energy surrounded them from all angles.
With this sudden surge, the fused beam of Raditz, Turles and Piccolo rabidly overwhelmed the might of Wheelo's Planet Geyser. Pushed back like a rock in a torrent, the lethal wave barreled into Wheelo and swallowed the cyborg whole. Out of energy and without a prayer left, the conduit was ultimately dissolved by the fearsome beam as it passed out of Earth's atmosphere and into the vacuum of space.
Hands still reaching for the heavens, the three amigos collapsed to the ground in unison. With no enemy to unite and energize them, their bodies gave out from the horrible strain of their exertion. Lying peacefully in the ice field, their dreamy countenances seemed happy and joyous—jubilant and triumphant. Free to rest as they had proven themselves to be world's strongest indeed.
So this is the end? The last hurrah—the end of the line. Personally, I thought it would be something different than this. Maybe a death due to complications of my obesity, perhaps a death in my sleep—whatever the expectation, this surely wasn't what I envisioned.
Very few people know me, even fewer understand me. The role of interrogator is often twisted and lonely, and it messes with your head something awful. Nevertheless, the skill—the gift—is set in the marrow of my bones. It was my bread and butter, my way through this life; no matter how much venom and animosity I held towards the craft itself.
My feud with Traje is a perfect example of my distaste towards my trade. If anybody was witness to it, they'd assume I detested the other boy with every fiber in my heart. That simply isn't true. Traje and I never got along, we even got into a few scraps, but hate isn't the right word for my feelings towards the lazy loaf. He was simply an obstacle in my way, a barrier that had to be bulldozed. No more and no less, regardless of the appearance of contempt.
This is one of many examples in my past where people have read me the wrong way, judged me without the knowledge of my ulterior intentions. It's so common that I hardly bother to correct anybody any longer. What's the point in objecting to something when the common consensus, which is so widespread, has such an engrained view that you'd never convince them otherwise? When they think they know you more than you do. For the record, if you think you know me, you don't.
Ascending up towards my maker, the Arcosians features became more visible, and by product of that, more deranged. The man was spitting mad, fuming at the bit. Can't say I blame him; look at what we did to his ship. Mercy probably isn't going to be a word in his vocabulary, not that there was any expectation of that to begin with. Oh well.
"You insects have ruined everything!" shrieked the tyrant, well past the stage of his cool eloquence and subdued contempt. All the fake notions of civility and snobbery washed away, replaced by the true essence of Frieza: a brat on the mother of all power trips.
My reaction to the dictator's childish exclamation was…nothing. He was doing a good enough job embarrassing himself that there was no reason for me to try. I had nothing to say to the devil incarnate and there was no point stroking the flames of the fire. At least no point that would aid me in any case.
Further enraged, the porcelain-skinned despot shook his fist at me angrily, as if he was trying to get me to see a point I already understood. "Did you hear me? You and your miserable rodents you call friends sacked my ship! Nobody humiliates me and gets away with it; you'll pay dearly for this!"
Snorting dismissively at the tyrant's loud and incessant exclamations, my hands slither by my side casually. Still staring deadpan at the self-acclaimed despot, I offer no retort to his accusations. Why feed an argument that doesn't matter in the end?
Quickly deducing that flying off the handle will get him nowhere, Frieza reigned himself in somewhat, reverting back to his cool composure. Index finger sliding over to the curl of his lip, the man fiendishly smiled. "What, no quips? No heroic proclamations about killing me for the greater good? For the peace of some dead relative I disposed of? To rid the universe of dear old me?" When I offered him no response, the brat just had to comment on that too. "Well, aren't you the cool crusader."
"I have nothing to say to you." It was the truth. All he wanted from me was some cruel form of amusement, some dramatic storyline to follow where the heroes die and the villains live to torment on. Unfortunately for him, I'm no hero. "Do you want me to say you're the vilest being in the known universe? You are, but you and I both know that the divide between our power levels is too massive for me to traverse. Even if I gave it my all, you'd just smack it away like it was nothing. So, let's just get on with it. As said before, I don't have anything to say to you and I never will."
Features darkening, the china-skinned menace cracked his knuckles ominously, the sound bringing chills down my spine. "You have nothing to say to me? We'll see about that, I'll see to that personally."
"Do your worst," I snapped flippantly, tired of Frieza's posturing and futile attempts to get me riled up. "Are you trying to kill me or court me? I'm starting to wonder. If you're going to start something, then launch it already."
Shrugging his shoulders at me like a beleaguered parent, the Arcosian began to shake his head sternly as if he continued to mock me like I was a petulant child. "Oh, if you insist. Although I can't possibly conceive how you got this impression of me from. I don't believe I've done anything to warrant it."
It didn't take an idiot to realize that Frieza was still playing mind games. Snorting haughtily at the lizard's feigned proclamation of innocence, I began to tap the front of my thigh impatiently. "Get on with it before you start crying crocodile tears."
My stuck-up response served to aggravate the despot, if you consider crossed eyed, curled lips and a darkening complexion as a sign of irritation. "Alright then, I shall. Please don't say I didn't try to be nice beforehand though."
The battle soon commenced. In hindsight though, most would consider our fight less a battle and more of a beating. Sure, I could've resisted—prolonged the affair in more than one way. Frieza does love a struggle after all, just so he can stamp it out with a ruthless vigor. Yet, what would be the point in that? The only thing that resistance would do is make the suffering worse.
Resistance. It has always been my song and dance through my life. Since the day I've been born, the only thing I've done is fight and claw—for happiness, for acceptance, for freedom or other such jargon throughout my days. A continuous uphill fight with no end in sight. And the sad part is that my efforts have and always will result in nothing.
The greatest symbol for this enduring futile fight is my weight. It never ceases to fail that my morbid obesity is the very first thing people notice, my indelible burden that distinguishes me. This dark curiosity heightens if they are aware of my lineage. How could somebody with Saiyan blood be so fat, so revolting? As it turns out, it isn't possible, so long as you're healthy.
At birth I was diagnosed with a rare genetic birth defect, a memento from my mother's side of the family. It isn't anything dramatically cataclysmic, like being born with half a heart or something. But what it does do is dramatically lower my metabolism while at the same time forcing me to consume as much food as my brethren. Yes, I'm aware of how paradoxical this is, but nobody understands how it's possible. A true medical enigma.
Pause for a minute. Imagine living with a Saiyan appetite and a human metabolism. Can you fathom a life, where you can work twice, thrice, as hard and get less than half of the yield that the people around you get? A life of back breaking labor for the only faintest hope for second best. Could you accept such an outcome as fair?
Couple this with another fact: I'm not a full-breed Saiyan. In the past of my branch of the royal family, I'm the bastard son of my father with some coquette from another world. Vegetasei and my former home differ in many ways, but the treatment of half-Saiyans is not that much different: a lot of scorn, race baiting and condescension from ones fellows. Admittedly, my royal status shielded me from some of the more violent skeptics, but the sting of their words still hurt a bit.
Fairness or not, reality is a bitch. Her deals are not always just and right. Some get a three-of-a-kind and their friends get flushes. Where I'm from we call this phenomenon `life's a bitch and then you die.' And as cynical and bleak as the message is, there honestly aren't many maxims that ring truer or more profoundly than that one.
Alas, life is all about making do with one has been bestowed upon from above. Lemonade needs to be made out of lemons, even in the most pitiful of circumstances. Life must go on, even if you want to sit down and bury your head in the sand. And that's what I've been doing, since the day I was born.
Nevertheless, churn too many lemons into the same pitcher of lemonade and the concoctions turns sour not sweet. Give somebody too many lemons, and eventually they become sour themselves, bitter even.
Yah, bitter. If there was any feeling that could properly describe me as I face my death, bitter would be it. Not saddened or melancholic about the futility of my struggle, angry that my life was coming to an end against my will or happy to see things end the way they had. Nope, the only thing coursing through my mind was a sense of bitterness. As my life comes to a close, the only thing I can think of was why my life had ended up the way it had, and why the gods felt it just to ordain and damn me to such a fate. I don't feel I'll ever understand it.
Coughing harshly, I was blown out of my reverie by the sound of Frieza's foot pressing itself into my back. Stomach pushed downwards, I could feel the force of Frieza's lower limb bear down on me. Even though my thoughts were rambled and disjointed, the sound of metal creaking and buckling beneath me was all I needed to know that something incredibly painful was about to happen.
Suddenly, the incredibly durable metal gave way and my torso went through the narrow perforation. It wouldn't have been so bad though if my head and feet went through as well—but that 'life's a bitch part,' yah she's kinda coming to play here. I looked like an elastic band that had been wound up just a little too much and dear lord did my back not appreciate it.
"Anything to say about my villainy now?" asked Frieza ever so innocently; feigning valor even though his smirk betrayed his far more unscrupulous intentions. So this was the infamous cruelty that the Arcosian was known for. Having spent the vast majority of my life in other realms of influence, primarily Cooler's, my brothers and I were constantly buffeted by propaganda about the inhumanity of Frieza. Although I didn't doubt that the man was a genocidal tyrant, I thought that some of the stories were a bit much to believe, especially coming from an equally power hungry monarch. Now, after seeing the man's methods with my own eyes, I could see that a lot of Cooler's defamatory campaign was actually believable.
But what I think and what I say are entirely different matters. Telling how crooked Frieza was to his face would just stroke his ego; give him a satisfaction that he didn't deserve to feel. No, it was better to remain silent. Sure, it would prolong my agony because a frustrated Frieza is an especially sadistic Frieza but I felt obligated to persist.
Yes, I'm aware of my seemingly contradictory behavior. I claim to be bitter, upset that life has handed me one painful situation after another, yet, in this instance, my pain and suffering is extended by my own intent. How does this make any sense?
My bitterness derives from many sources. Elements of my birth that I could not control, the fact that these elements have proven to impassable impediments to my consistent happiness and overall ambitions, and who could forget my employment as an interrogator—a very unpleasant employment occupation if being a remorseless sadistic isn't your thing. Truth be told, going into "intelligence gathering" was more about being useful than a personal goal of mine. It wasn't something I really wanted to do.
Barring my individual laments and regrets, the world, much less the universe, is about the comings and goings of one soul, disregarding their power or influence. People come and go, but the state of the world as a whole is what counts. Nobody, not I nor anybody is above it, no matter what Frieza or his ilk thinks in their small deluded minds.
The universe, regrettably, is diseased. My life story made me suspicious, and the around the clock genocides and debasing occurring in every single nook and cranny of this wretched world validate it. Good does exist though, in small enclaves and a select group of individuals. For them, and only them, do I see there being any hope for the future going forward.
In my own experience, I've met only two whom really deserve that title: Merken and Erinnern. From the beginning, they accepted me for who I was. Never judged me harshly for my shortcomings and constant slough of troubles and burdens. Apart of me wonders if this is because of the fact I'm older, they are just that young and impressionable or because we've just been around each other constantly, but altogether, I don't think that's the case.
Sure both of them have their faults. Erinnern still possess a brashness that comes from inexperience and naivety, one he's paid dearly for today. Merken's a bit of a spitfire who doesn't always realize how quickly his temperament changes nor realizes the ramifications of his moodiness. Overall though, in spite of the fear of sounding corny, they are wonderful characters. About as good as you're going to get in this screwed up world.
Having spent most of my life scorned and neglected, their type of reaction to my presence was a breath of fresh air. Something I wasn't particularly used too, something that I had yearned for longingly before I had come to have met them. A feeling that I could cherish and hold close rather than rely on my leather-hard hide and my tongue made of barb-wire. It wasn't enough, but saying that I cared for those two would be the mother of all understatements.
In fact, if it wasn't for their decision to come on this mission, I wouldn't be here fighting in the battle that would surely lead to my demise. To me, it was an opportunity for escape from the life I was living and embark on a journey of self-realization, a chance to break the funk so to speak—the grey cloud raining on me constantly.
Perhaps it was a bit overly idealistic in hindsight, even moreso when you consider the predicament I'm in now, but you know what: I don't care. If the price of Erinnern and Merken's life is my own, I'll gladly toss mine away and take my chances in the afterlife. Sure, I don't want to die, but if that's my choices then it's a clear no brainer to me. It is what it is.
Under normal circumstance though, with ordinary people, my actions today wouldn't have been any different than Traje—I would've acted in a manner not entirely incomparable to that of a parasitic louse trying to weasel his way away from the high road, the hard road. I wouldn't have hesitated to turn tail and run if it had been Traje, Putzen or Machen needing the same help, and I make no note of challenge to this admission.
Frieza had done more to harm Erinnern and Merken in one afternoon than anybody else I had ever met throughout the course of my lifetime—brought more pain and anguish to them than any other before him. As said before, the true nature of his evil is something I could never hope to fathom, let alone understand. Giving his kind of cancer, any kind of victory given to him that I could withhold would be unacceptable. If that means not giving him the satisfaction of hearing me scream out, then that's what it would be. Any less would be disrespectful to those that have fallen to his scourge.
For what little good, true good there is in this world, there needs to be a defense. All that is needed for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing. I don't consider myself to be good; I don't even consider myself to be morally average. Yet, something in me tells me I can't just let Frieza take whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. The contribution doesn't have to be big, so long as the fiend understands that he can't get all that his heart desires. Not everything has to be on his terms.
Body bended acutely at an extremely awkward angle, Frieza smirked at me ghoulishly. "Oh, staying silent aren't we? I'm sure your mother told you how impolite it is to keep quiet when you're spoken to!"
Acting to inflame his point, the Arcosian jumped off the ground and landed on my already hyper-extended back. Biting down on my lip with a vicious vigor, the sudden action muffled any audible cry that would've arisen out of me from the cruel strike. It took nearly everything in me to not scream out in pure pain, but I did succeed despite the agony.
Frieza, if he was growing incensed by his failures, didn't seem to showing it. "Impudent rodent, aren't we? Let's see if you have anything to say for yourself after this!"
If landing on my back was not agonizing enough, then the next thing that came to the sadistic little mind of the fiend was positive excruciating. Slowly and ever so slightly, Frieza began to hop up and down on my back.
Clenching down on my lower lip, blood started to trickle down my chin as my razor sharp incisors cut up my mouth. Sensing my displeasure and anguish grow steadily, the Arcosian picked up the pace. His hops turning into jumps, the pressure and force amplifying on my back with each touchdown grew more and more distressing.
My lower lip gave out before anything else did. With each blow, my razor sharp fangs dug farther and farther into my lips, eventually boring holes into the piece of flesh. In this case, the power dwelling within me became my undoing as the holes bored by my fangs joined together. Eventually, the damage was too much and the entire feature gave way.
Quickly biting down on my tongue to prevent myself from screaming out, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Frieza stopping and smiling at me heartlessly. Jumping off my back, the brat grabbed my ankle and pulled me out of the perforation by the part of my leg. "You really are a stubborn challenger. So persistent, so obstinate." I could practically picture the fiend's smug mug in my hazy vision.
"But, you see, I'm Lord Frieza. And all maggots bow to me in the end!"
With a violent swing, the tyrant slammed me into the ground like a gavel. Far from finished, the despot heaved me back into the air only to harshly swing me back down like I was an axe. Satisfied with treating me as if I were a ragdoll for the meantime, the man brought me back face to face with him, although with me still dangling by my ankle in a similar fashion to how a prize fish dangled next to its fisherman.
"I've always enjoyed knowing the faces of the boys who are killed by me," stated Frieza, his leering expression giving me a good idea of what his next move was. The fact that the Arcosian's fist happened to be cocked back when he was saying it confirmed my suspicions. Unsurprisingly, I could do nothing but let the powerful punch strike me right in the forehead.
As a Saiyan, I've been punched on more than one occasion in my history. Nobody does it like Frieza though; I've yet to meet anybody that had the power to completely shatter my helmet which he had just done. My face exposed, Frieza could relish in how messed up it looked. Two particularly nasty cuts in particular below my eyes highlighted a gruesome mess of swelling and blood that had become my face.
"Has anybody told you what a lovely face you have?" cruelly joked the Arcosian, deliberately mocking the pain and suffering he had caused me. "It's so pristine and immaculate."
"Get on with it, you sick freak," I whimpered, intolerant of Frieza's twisted little mind games, even if I could do nothing to stop them.
Slapping me with the backside of his hand, the sadist slowly wagged his finger admonishingly at me, as if I was the one that had erred. "Now, now. Is there any need for vulgarity, young lad? Perhaps somebody needs to teach you to mind your tongue!"
Jabbing deep into my gut, the Arcosian laughed cruelly as I groaned and murmured. One specific punch stung so much that I was forced to cough up blood, which landed right on Frieza's face. Looking up at the foreign fluid, the fiend delightfully licked it up with his tongue—the smirk on his face while doing it a strange mixture of savage and sophisticated. "Blood has such an intoxicating taste, don't you think?"
Frowning when I offered him no response, the tyrant sighed languidly, like I was some disobedient child refusing to do exactly what he wanted. "Brash to the end, I see. Types like you are the real characters, so hopelessly deluded—so blind to the truth staring you right in the face. There is only one reality in this world—the one where I get my way.
There was something about that statement that aroused me, incited me. Brought out a sensation within me that didn't seem normal, something that I wouldn't express unless under its influence. Whatever enigmatic feelings I was experiencing, they simply wouldn't let me just stand there and feed Frieza's megalomaniacal delusions.
Suddenly, I felt an energy burning within me. Nowhere near enough to truly fight a goliath on the scale of Frieza, but enough to deprive the tyrant of what he actually wants out of me. Frieza can do a lot of things to me, but even he should know that not everybody gets what they want.
"You really don't get it, do you?" I muttered, a sense of resentment and disdain brewing underneath the surface of my skin. The more the despot talked, the more I desired to prove to him just how wrong he was.
Snorting out of habit, Frieza cocked his head to his side and chuckled mutely. "So you do have a tongue hidden somewhere in that pretty little mouth of yours? I'm surprised."
"Yes, I do—and unlike what you may think, you can't control it." I smiled as Frieza's amused smirk devolved into a snarl, his composure beginning to fracture once again. Looking up, I noticed five stars shoot up into the sky towards parts unknown. The sight endowed me with a great amount of pleasure; Frieza didn't even know it, but he had already lost the real battle. "You lose."
All I could do was cackle madly as Frieza's state of mind flushed itself straight down the toilet. For all his grandiose talk of omnipotence, he didn't really act any differently than a coddled brat when things went south.
"Explain yourself, now!" shouted the despot, his tone becoming screeching loud, like a pissed off cat or fingernails on the blackboard. Personally, it's hard to choose which was more appropriate. Nevertheless, the sound made me want to laugh at the man—a last memento to the fool before I pass away into the afterlife.
"There is only one reality in this world—the one where I get my way," I reiterated, the venom in my voice serving to irritate the Arcosian overlord. "How rich. If that was really true, then explain why you're only going to be killing one of us today?"
"Cute," responded Frieza, smugly crossing his arms across his chest. Bastard was still enraged and neurotic but his composure was starting to return. Probably because he's ignorant of his failures, and doesn't understand they can't be changed now. "Once I'm finished with you, I'm going to hunt down the rest of you vermin."
It was going to be fun telling him how wrong he was. "Problem is you can't; they are all long gone by now. Did you ever wonder why I came out alone without support? Were you stupid enough to think I wasn't aware of the suicidal nature of my choice? No, because you're just a blind brat with an ego fit for a god!"
Frieza was raring to respond, but I wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise. Unlike what goes on in his petty little mind, things don't always go his way. "Contrary to the persona you want people to believe, you aren't immuneto the cruel hand of fate. The world isn't built around whatever pathetic things you long for nor does it cater to your interests exclusively. I don't care about your megalomaniacal delusions or assertions of superiority. You can maim, rape or kill me, but there's certain things not even you can touch!"
My verbal tirade, true as it was, however was only a smokescreen for my endgame. Channeling all of my energy to my breast, I compressed the power and solidified it within my chest. Once this blast went off, my chances of survival were essentially nil and that was the way I wanted it.
"I suspect you know that though, somewhere deep down in an abyss where your misconceptions can't coddle you. Beyond your cloak of authority, you're just a sniveling little brat pissed off that the universe doesn't revolve around you. But you know what? Nobody really cares, no matter your methods in making people obey. And for the good you destroy in your quest for control, I must not let you win this battle! It's over, Frieza!"
In a single instance, the bomb growing inside my chest exploded. Growing at an unfathomable pace, the attack engulfed Frieza and spread out through the center of the brat's ship, wreaking havoc and uprooting everything in its path. All of my vital energy used in the making of the explosion, my body began to wither and fragment in the fiery cauldron of ki. Soon enough all that remained of me was an essence not a body. And before long, even that much of my existence was snuffed out. It was all over at last.
Passing over to the final frontier, my thoughts were jaded and somewhat rueful. This was it, the end of the line. The fat lady had truly sung. Having fulfilled my solemn declaration to Merken and Erinnern, the only thing left to do was sit back and feel myself disappear. On my very literal death bed, a mixture of apprehension and weariness came over me. What was death going to be like? Would there be anything? And if there was, would it be just a continuation of the same bull that marked this world. In the end, I just don't have a clue.
The time had come. Energy exhausted, the yellow dome of ki shattered and my life was extinguished forever. Hopefully, my sacrifice today will ultimately accomplish something in the long run. That's all anybody can hope for when their time has come. Goodbye. For now and forever.
A week had passed since the series of climatic events that had erupted on Frieza's flagship. Now, in the calm period to follow, would be the time where the actions of Baden's group would pay dividends. Goku had spent one restless week in his space pod, gently gliding through space completely out of harm's way.
All good things must come to an end though. Goku's lone journey was coming to an end, but the end of every journey is the start of something new. For the palm-tree haired Saiyan, this phrase couldn't be any more true.
Before the Saiyan even knew it, his pod began to land, crash if you want to be technical, at its final destination. Lying in his pod mindlessly, the naïve male wasn't prepared for his pod to speak up about where he ended up. "Landing procedure complete. Welcome to Planet Yardrat."
And here we are at the end of CD21. It's been a very fun ride so far and I hope you have had a good time too. Now, we transition into a new arc with new challenges for the entire cast. The preliminary work is finished and I'm rived to go into something a bit different.
I. Review Responses: (For clarity, S means statement and R means response).
S: Can't believe Earth Saga is going to end soon...The part with Gohan thinking about Goku in the beginning was nice as well. Nice chapter and congrats on 200! (Full Power)
R: The Earth Saga technically won't be over for some time. Wheelo is done, but they still have to get off the planet and get a few more things done. They aren't as adrenaline filled, but I think you'll be very pleasantly surprised by what I have up my sleeve. We'll see.
S: You know I do like what you've done with Pui Pui. Honestly we have no idea how strong he was in cannon. I mean potentially he could have been able to best Frieza and everyone in the Frieza Arc, but we'll never know since he was killed so quickly by Vegeta. Can't wait to see how Baden has to deal with those other Saiyans after their whole raid. That is if he survives against Vegeta. (Jason9000)
R: Pui Pui is a character that gives me a lot of freedom. Outside of being more than a little deluded, his true power level is a bit of a mystery. Is he stronger than Ginyu or is he stronger than Frieza? Canon can't decide therefore I get to alter things as much as I want (within reason). As for Baden and his brothers, it's going to be a tense debrief to put it lightly.
S: Liked the look into Gohan and Vegeta's minds post-beating. Vegeta's "coaching" of Gohan was very in-character for him, though I'm not sure if Gohan had that large of a vocabulary at the age of 4 even given his IQ, or that he's ever been that eloquent when angry. (Ness Frost)
R: Gohan's dialogue has always been a bit of a challenge, but yes, I had some issues with Gohan's dialogue in the beginning. We'll just have to see if I've improved in the meantime.
S: Of this chapter, I my favorite parts had to be the first two segments. They seemed to have the largest affect on the story for quite a while.
The last segment was a tad long for my taste, since Turles has been doing nothing but fighting for a while now.
What would be interesting though is if both Vegeta and Baden lose their tails, and as such a large portion of their power and then Gohan has to decide who to help in the fight. (Supersaiyaninfinitygohan)
R: Technically, Vegeta still doesn't have his tail. It was the device that Myuu put on his arm that facilitated Vegeta's ascension. As for tails, Baden's is pretty much gone.
S: I was kind of surprised that Merken didn't have Goku use the smoke as cover, but thinking about it it actually makes good sense for him to use it only once it started fading. While it was thick it was much more likely that someone would be looking at it, whereas once it started clearing up the soldiers would begin to lose interest. Moreover as a result of the smoke still being present, it could still mask Goku's motion in one's peripheral vision. (Ultimate Black Ace)
R: Yep, but we'll see how effective that turns out to be.