A culmination of outraged voices clamoured vehemently in the arena where the two adversaries stood in silence, assessing one another. The stands were brimming with rageful Saiyans spitting and jeering while the fighting area was cleared and given a wide berth. The Commander and the Prince assumed beginning stances and waited. In a slow, controlled movement, Ascion lifted her right arm, initially angled at her middle, to be poised in front of her face. She snapped her hand into a fist in defense and blinked her green eyes.
She felt him throttle her forearm repeatedly before she even registered that his feet left the ground. She had to cross her left forearm into her right to shield the onslaught of repeated strikes, heels planted firmly into the floor with her knees bent to hold herself in place.
He's so fast, her mind shouted as she winced audibly with each hit, trying to maintain her position and planned a way to get out of this direct attack. Her arms burned with each impact from his unyielding blows.
She opened one hand in an instant between blows to ignite a ki blast in distraction. He reacted with a millisecond of diverted attention as she disappeared out of his view and reappeared behind him where she threw all of her weight behind a punch in his direction. He parried with ease, to her frustration, and landed a blow to the chest causing her to fly back several yards.
Up off the floor hastily, Ascion threw a large ki blast then vaulted into the air as Vegeta blocked the concentrated energy effortlessly and took off at towards her in hot pursuit. Her every kick and punch thrown was parried and reciprocated without difficulty on his part. She grunted furiously as her fists shot out in swift succession, aiming for a target but either blocked or missing entirely. Even in her ascended form, in the short time it took for their match to progress, Ascion was starting to see that he was far stronger than she had initially anticipated.
Swiftly flying back down to the ground, Vegeta threw a forceful kick, her to counter, then followed with a volley of short burst punches. A moment later, after she recovered by phasing away, replanting her feet and regaining a defensive stance, he attempted another forceful kick followed with a barrage of short burst punches. For a split second, she recognized that he was repeating his movements. Flying back a few feet, Vegeta came at her. Ascion held her arms out in front of her to deflect an incoming punch and saw for a third time, his foot coming up, a signal for her to recognize his routine. She was ready for him.
Instead of putting her arm up to block the incoming kick, she moved back from it slightly, bent down and reached her tail out to grab his only planted foot and pulled it out from under him. This was enough to get a small surprised grunt from him, to her excited triumph, as she went for an uppercut as he started to fall and made solid contact with his chin.
He flew up and back, catching himself before he hit the ground. Regaining his posture, he smirked with narrowed eyes.
"Using your tail. Now that's an advantage I don't have anymore. Enjoy that hit, it will be the only one you land on me."
She reciprocated his statement with an emboldened grin as she touched down on the mats. She could land a hit, she realized, he wasn't impenetrable. She got back into her stance with a renewed sense of purpose. The crowd surrounding them howled in rallied ardor.
He flew at her again, with fervor and speed, a glint in his eye as they traded blows in earnest. She had no time to think of another strategic plan as his fists whipped close, she could only defend, avoiding the chance for him to get a good hit in and she'd be finished. A sudden kick to her flank and she shot out across the floor, skidding a distance and cried out briefly. Ascion raised a hand and produced a hail of ki blasts to her incoming foe, each balled energy colliding with a sizzled bang and smoke but her Prince dove toward her, unaffected. He shot his own in close proximity, she crossed her arms over her face taking the brunt of the impacts on her burning forearms. She gritted her teeth at the stinging pain. How is this possible? I am ascended while he is still in his base form. I should not be so outmatched.
The onslaught of ki ceased and for a moment, in the haze of lingering acrid smoke, she stood and was unaware of his location. Until he phased behind her and wrapped his arms unbreakably tight around her abdomen and locked his hands. He then proceeded to squeeze, her ribcage audibly popping under the strain. She tried to twist in reaction, a scream held back as her futile efforts only made his grip around her torso tighten painfully. With one strong swivel, he lifted her off her feet and slammed her into the floor with a crash. Landing on her back, Ascion gasped loudly as her wounded middle burned from the enormous inflicted pressure. She was convinced some ribs had cracked as she sucked in her breath sharply through her teeth. The pain was exacerbated by his foot solidly pinning her down. He leaned his weight onto his leg that held her immobilized and smirked at her struggle, clawing at his boot pressed onto her damaged rib cage.
"That's a good look for you. I'll bet most of your clan has never seen their Commander on her back before. So helpless." He mocked. She growled loudly exposing her canines in heated anger. "This can all be over. Admit I'm better. You and your clan are a joke. Just admit it."
"No." She seethed and grunted, pinching her eyes shut as he pushed his foot harder into her middle. "I will not fall to you."
The pressure subsided to her relief as he removed his leg. She felt herself being picked up roughly by her shoulder straps and came face to face with her malicious false Prince. She smirked at the sight of the trail of dried blood at the corner of his mouth from when she managed to hit him the first time. She could only imagine what she must look like in retrospect.
"No? Why are you still doing this? You are clearly outmatched." His expression was unreadable.
"I would rather die than forfeit to you." She sneered, her breath coming in harshly.
"Are you doing this for them? Or for you?"
His dark eyes bore into her with the implication of her intentions. She gritted her teeth at the accusation. "I have done everything to keep this clan together. I intend on continuing to do so after I have defeated you. Their honor is my honor." She spat back with fierce conviction.
"You are a pathetic child. I come here to see your surviving Saiyans and I find a ship of poorly trained soldiers and a sad excuse of a Commander. Give up so I can watch you hang your head in shame." He countered venomously.
Ascion balled her fists at her side at the vitriol, craned her head back and smashed her forehead as hard as she could into his hateful face. A splitting headache was forming but she felt none of it as vindictive retribution felt a lot better.
He let her go from the recoil of the headbutt and blinked a few times as she backflipped a distance and wiped the wetness of blood from her forehead. Her lips turned up with satisfaction and she licked the collected redness off her fingertips. Ascion then held out her hands, palms up, directed toward him. Vegeta looked up furiously, droplets of blood trickling into his eyes from the large wound over his eyebrow, made to charge her but stopped. She observed him as the particles of energy from her open hands poured out, forming a large and powerful invisible barrier on his body. He appeared curious at first, then grinned derisively. She smiled back until she smashed her fingers into her palms quickly, an enormous white light shone around him with the ignition of the energy followed by a massive, smoke filled, echoing explosion. The last image of him before it enveloped was of his smug face pulled back into a suddenly shocked expression.
Guided down the length of the white passageway, the clicking of boots on tiles was what she chose to focus on. Riane stared down at her feet, each step closer to the last room she'd ever enter. Desperately trying to avoid thinking about him, she could still feel him. A myriad of shared emotions, concern, agitation, panic, plagued her thoughts like wisps floating into her mind for a moment then gone for another to replace it. They were not strong or debilitating, just continuously present. Even when interrogated, she wondered if he could feel her suffering to maintain control, how the words of her sister cut her like a knife, and how it took everything to not react at the sight of the photograph of them together. She made these choices, she knew what it meant to break loyalty. She just didn't want him to suffer as well for her careless actions. She hoped he'd find a way to move on past all this.
Right before turning down the last hallway to eventual punishment, Riane looked up to see several brood females mingling together. The women came to a hush and moved out the way to let the guards and their captive pass. Her eyes caught the surprised gaze of one more evidently pregnant. Their eyes locked and held, one face of surprise and confusion, the other of willful acceptance. Marginally slowing her steps, Riane nodded her head with a smile and the other caught her breath in panic. Only when Riane was pushed forward to keep pace, did their eye contact cease.
Zella stood gobsmacked and puzzled as to why Riane was clearly under arrest. Waving the other females to continue without her, Zella thought hard over Riane's predicament. She was always kind, if a little rough around the edges, but she always looked out for the younger girl. Zella contemplated what action she could take to aid her. Even if the whisperings were true, Riane was an honest person, and should not be treated like a criminal especially over something so frivolous in Zella's opinion. Maybe it was the younger Saiyan's gentle way, wanting to show kindness and optimism over harshness and brutality. She was so unlike the others in her clan. Riane knew that about differences from the others and often tried to show understanding and camaraderie when they were together. Zella felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to do something, anything to help her. She wouldn't let Riane be abandoned. Zella was sure her comrade would do the same for her.
In the confines of the once sterile white room, splashes of red on bent, distorted metal wall plates and cracked floor tiles painted a picture that this was a room of torture. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she held her side with a firm hand as if trying to staunch the pain with her fingertips. She had a rather large gash across her forehead and down the side of her face, temporarily blinding one eye with dripping blood that entered her nose with each inhale. They had broken her left forearm. She couldn't remember when. She crouched, her body tightly balled, her tail constricting around her waist. She waited for more.
"Riane." A deep voice of a former clanmate called to her. She tried not to flinch. "Riane. Do you deny your disloyalty to the clan?"
Counting her breaths, 1, 2, 3, to 10 before answering. Dragging it out.
"No." She said, finally, staring at the broken tiles on the floor, admiring the shards without blemishes or blood splatter on them.
She immediately met the tiles facefirst as a swift punch made contact with the back of her skull. We can endure so much. She thought. They won't let me lose consciousness yet.
"Do you deny that your behavior while on assignment is considered treasonous to your comrades?" His voice was eerily calm.
"No." Another blow, this time to her back and she suppressed a cry as she scratched her nails through her own dried blood on the tiled floor.
1, 2, 3. Breathing in and out, between coughs. She spat a crimson streak onto the floor.
"Riane, do you deny your affections to the Earthlings you were among?" He asked as she watched him wipe his knuckles with a white cloth, staining red. Count your breathing. Draw it out. She wiped her nose with the back her hand, scarlet lines running over her tan skin. She noticed the chipped polish glistening on her nails. What color do you want? a little girl's voice asked sweetly. Green, she heard herself reply.
"Which ones?" She said, smirking. Her head was yanked back as the clean fist went deep into her abdomen. She coughed roughly, scarlet spatter dotted the face in front of her. He was not amused by her answer. Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Deny her captors the satisfaction of seeing her break. She wouldn't break.
"You traitorous, whoring thing. Do you deny your affections for the polluted half breed." His words were venomous and low, searching her face for answers.
1 breath. That was manageable. 2. A little harder. 3. Harder still. Her lungs ached as she closed her eyes. She saw his face. He laughed. He rolled his eyes. He yelled at her. He looked at her with desire and trust. He kissed her with his eyes closed.
She smiled to herself and replied.
"No." She stated confidently. The most assured utterance went past her lips and sealed her destiny. She kept her eyes closed and expected the final blow. Nothing came. She was released from his tight grip and she placed her face in her hand on the cold ground.
Counting still, she got to 10 and opened her eyes. Her slow glance up found her captor wiping his face and removing his gloves with a sigh.
"Riane, it would amuse me if you fought back. You could. There is nothing stopping you. But I know you will not. You are so loyal. It is too bad however that your loyalty could not be maintained once off the ship." He said with a mocking, victorious smirk.
He walked over to the door, rapt it once, and another expressionless male came in. Her eyes focused on the new arrival, confusion and sadness marred her features.
"Balen?" She whispered at the awareness of a once close comrade of hers, one of her partners with whom she used to laugh with, one that she trusted, here to assist.
He swallowed thickly as he strode over to her, picked her up, gently at first, to a standing position then clasped her arms behind her with his stronger hands, holding her body rigid. She could see in her peripheral vision his head was turned to the wall, to deny her to look him in the eye.
The first Saiyan cleared his throat, his back to her and fiddling with something unseen at the short, metal table attached to the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room. "Riane, traitorous Saiyans are executed for their crimes against the clan. You know this probably better than anyone as you have personally sent many to their own deaths." She tensed under the hands of her former clanmate, tail tightening, fists clenching for what was coming.
"Now, I can tell you accept your execution, as an honorable Saiyan would. But your indiscretions in the eyes of your clansmen cannot be waived. Your death will come. There is a punishment that needs to be done first, though." He finally turned around wielding a short, sharp knife. She blanched immediately and shook her head in panic.
"No. No, Ascion would never authorize this." She struggled unsuccessfully.
The male took two steps closer.
"Commander Ascion has no authority in this room. In fact, our Commander has informed me directly she cannot protect those she cannot trust. We were told to do what must be done to traitors. You are no longer a Saiyan to us. Therefore, we will have to remove the piece that made you one."
With sure steps, he came forward, brandishing the blade with the intention to disfigure.
She pressed her body further back into her restraining Saiyan, squirming and fighting to no avail. Trunks. She thought over and over through pinched, shut eyes as her sensitive tail was touched.
Just past the room, an officer passed by on his way to the battle arena. His pace faltered though when he heard the sound of a blood-curdling scream echo down the halls.
Trunks unexpectedly cried out from intense, white-hot pain. Clutching his head with shaking hands, he heard his name reverberate loudly and repeatedly in his mind. The burning, embered torment travelled down to his arms and legs, a current of unseen stabbing cuts all over. His chest felt like a vice tightening as he struggled to take a breath then suddenly, it was over. The pain stopped, and through heavy gasps, he knew immediately where the distressed abuse was coming from. He just hoped he wouldn't be too late.
He looked up and saw the open hanger in front of him, a livid, vengeful feeling washed over. He was merciful, unused to death; fighting only for sport, for fun, not survival. But now, as he suffered temporarily through her agony, he would find her and show no mercy for any that stood in his way.