Age 761

Planet Kipper

Several colourful explosions resounded across the surface of the oceanic world, each one claiming entire neighbourhoods in a single sweep and consuming them.

Until a few months ago, Planet Kipper was seen almost as a model world among those under the control of the Emperor of the Universe, Frieza. Conquered over a decade ago by the infamous Ginyu Force, it was spared from the genocide of its green-skinned, amphibian species by being turned into a slave world, producing armours, scouters and other relevant equipment for the greater Empire. It was even allowed to retain the name which its inhabitants had given it – in a galaxy scattered with Frieza-numbered planets, this was a badge of honour. Apparently, however, even this relative lenience was not enough to make the Kipperians know their place and express gratitude. A rebellion on the island-dotted world, fostered by one of the surviving princes of the planet's monarchy, exploded and destroyed the local garrison, requiring an intervention from the Frieza Force.

The Emperor of the Universe did not show restraint, and sent the nuclear option for the job – the Kipperian warriors who survived the energy blast barrage realised this first-hand.

"What power..." one of the Kipperian warriors remarked after hopping back from the street onto the roof of one of the cone-shaped houses. Several of his surviving peers backed away from the ruins as well, observing the aftermath from the streets and roofs. Another rebel called out:

"Someone's approaching from the smoke!"

A tall, broad silhouette, towering over any Kipperian and standing well over two meters tall, was stepping out of the crater and walking past the remains of houses. The sharp shoulder pads of his Frieza Force armour, a terrifying sight for anyone fleeing from the emperor's troopers, could be seen easily. Even before the dust settled, the Kipperians trained their weapons and aimed their palms at the silhouette, ready to fire at first opportunity.

A blue-skinned, reptilian man stepped out of the smoke. His eyes were pure yellow, with no visible pupils, and a mohawk of bone-like tissue protruded from the top of his head. Registering new power levels approaching the battle site, the scouter on his tube-like ear beeped loudly, until he turned it off.

Margar, the muscle of the Articho Force.

"You are going to pay for what you did to our people!" one of the Kipperians yelled. "Our race! Our future!"

The call to action of the rebels did not affect the tall alien much – perhaps his comrades would even get into a little shouting match with them, order them to stand down before even more of "their people" perish, but Margar was never the one for small talk. He clenched his fists, and, with a smirk, yelled back:

"Then come!"

After a frustrated grunt, the same rebel called out:

"Everyone, release your power! Attack!"

Under the man's orders, over a dozen blaster bolts and energy beams got fired off at once, encroaching onto the Frieza Force elite from every side, then crashed into a powerful explosion. Margar was not caught in the blast, however. Moving faster than any of the rebel warriors could even track, the alien appeared in front of one of the attackers and shoved a powerful smash into his gut. A following elbow strike sent him to the ground, the power reading vanishing from the rebels' scouters immediately.

"Avruga!" a cry rang out across the blasted cityscape. One after another, the remaining warriors forgoed their weapons and charged right at Margar. This was exactly what the alien soldier was hoping for. Getting close and personal, fighting off an entire horde at once – the mere though would make his heart beat faster, and no mission on his long service in the Frieza Force has disappointed him in that regard. With a simple pull, Margar ripped out a nearby pole and swung it – five hundred kilograms of steel, swung by a man as powerful as him, easily shattered through several of the Kipperians attacking him.

The soldier then tackled another rebel with his shoulder, almost knocking him out immediately with the brute force, then grabbed him by the neck and drove him into the ground below at full flying speed. Dozens of buildings surrounding the impact cracked and crumbled from the force, and the shockwave blew back the remaining rebel warriors, at least for a few seconds.

"Come on, where's your bravado?!" Margar yelled and rose back to full height as soon as he confirmed that the youth he grabbed was dead. "You were going to make us pay for your people, didn't you? Then why am I still here, and you all crumble in one smash?! Don't be so disappointing, break your limits!"

This pushed a few more of the remaining warriors to charge – but, in spite of their spirited yelling and all of their strength, they didn't have any more luck in taking down the blue giant.

"Fifteen thousand... seventeen thousand... nineteen thousand..." one of the Kipperian warriors, the same one who had made the heroic claim that incensed their opponent, was muttering the readings on his scouter. "And he's still barely trying..." Was there any point in having any hope, at this point? Nothing they could bring out could possibly match the power of the Frieza Force...

But, knowing that they are going to die anyway, means that there's really no point in doing anything but resisting.

"Die!" the warrior yelled from the bottom of his lungs, gathering ki in his palms above his head, ready to thrust them forth for a fully powered energy wave. Right as he was about to fire, however, something in his body... snapped. It froze in place, twitching, refusing to move forward, as if restrained by invisible ropes that turned him into a helpless puppet. The world around him, meanwhile, started to fade, losing colour, like being thrust into the old colourless televisions which had become obsolete across the Galaxy thousands of years ago.

"Tut-tut, that's a powerful blast you're holding in your hands," a voice called out from behind the rebel – then, another member of the Frieza Force began circling around him, inspecting him with a sly smirk. Much like Margar, he was dressed in standard issue battle armour – however, he was far shorter, comparable to the amphibian Kipperians. His skin was light blue, but his appearance was much more humanoid, down to the lush, messy blonde hair. "Wouldn't want to waste it on someone who would hardly feel it, though. You, on the other hand..."

To his shock and terror, the energy blast in the Kipperian warrior's palms began floating away, reaching his opponent's fingertips – at which point it was turned against him.

"What... did you do to me...?" the rebel gushed out, desperately trying to push and claw himself out of the invisible lock, to no avail. Whatever this technique was, it was powerful enough to completely immobilise him. After a brief giggle, the soldier answered:

"I'm not that much of a warrior, unlike my friend over there. But... I've picked up a few tricks during our travels – psychic powers, an entirely different plane of combat from what you are familiar with. With mere thought, I can make warriors like you my playthings. Helpless."

After another giggle, he continued. "It feels terrible to be so helpless, doesn't it?"

With a twitch of his fingers, the soldier finally released the blast he stole from the Kipperian warrior's hands, into an energy wave which easily blasted a hole through the helpless rebel's gut. "You have no idea..."

While the lifeless body fell to the ground, Margar, who had already dispatched of the rest of the rebel troops, turned to the sky and yelled:

"Really, Caesa? Did you really have to take a whole minute to take down one of them? I extinguished a whole platoon in half that time!"

Caesa glanced to his comrade and scoffed. "I wasn't even planning to fight. I only came here to bring these," he answered and pulled out a small bottle from underneath his glove – it was a set of Saibaman seeds, though, unlike the variation most of their peers were familiar with, these came in numerous different colours. "But, you failed to listen to my request, yet again. And didn't leave any specimens for Saibaman tests, yet again."

"You never told me that request-"

"Yes I did."

"-I wasn't finished," Margar gushed out after being interrupted. "And besides, I'm sure there's more frogs to try them against."

"If they haven't hidden away already," Caesa muttered under his breath – before he could complain further, however, his attention got drawn away by a beep on his scouter. Ten or so kilometres away, on the other side of the enormous planetary capital, something was taking place.


Prince Salmon ran past building after building, occasionally looking back behind his back to see if he wasn't being followed, then hastening his sprint. How could this rebellion have gone so wrong? He had expected himself and his select fighters, some of the strongest and most adept of his kind, to deal more damage after training for years to prepare themselves for throwing off Frieza's rule. At least some part of his mind hoped that by presenting the Galaxy a fait accompli, the tyrant would have no choice to let them go for the time being – and, at that point, the Kipperians could think of something to protect themselves with next time. Create a mandatory training program in energy control, grow a large force of powerful warriors. Invest further in innovative, radical technologies. Perhaps they could then discover a way to defeat the Ginyus, and the other elites, as it wasn't like Frieza ever dealt with matters personally...

Now, some of his closest allies, people he could call comrades, even friends, were dead or dying, and Kipper may be living its last moments. How many of his people will be left alive in the following reprisals? Will the planet itself continue existing? Or will Frieza deem it useless and turn it to an asteroid field, like countless others...?

The Kipperian prince stopped in a crossroad, the cape flowing from his shoulders briefly fluttering from the inertia. The spaceport of the planetary capital was to the left, and so, he ran there. Its large spires, holding wide pads to catch the landing of Attack Balls, stretched high to the sky in the horizon. It was emptied during the first phase of the Kipperian rebellion, but perhaps it still holds a pod somewhere. With it, Salmon could escape. Travel far, far away. Perhaps, he can then train alone, find other exiles just like him and exact-

"-ah!"

One of the invading soldiers caught up to Salmon and dropped down in front of the prince – with his back turned at first, then looking over at his opponent with a silent glare. This got the prince to stop in his tracks – a brief standoff followed.

"So, you're after me, I take it..." Salmon gushed out through his teeth, staring down the soldier. Though worried at first, the prince slowly rebuilt his confidence. Whoever this particular soldier was, he didn't appear all that intimidating – compared to the numerous odd aliens and equally weird powers scattered throughout Frieza's empire, this one was a bland humanoid, with dark spiky hair, partially falling on the left side of his face. The only point of interest was a furry tail, wrapped around the man's waist like a belt.

The man did not answer, prompting Salmon to yell:

"Do... do you think I'm afraid of you? That I will roll over and die just by seeing your face?!" A white aura burst to life around the Kipperian, picking up dust and breaking apart the winds. Briefly, it caught the soldier's attention, and he turned around to face his opponent fully. "I am the Prince of Kipper! Trained from birth! This planet's last hope! And who do you think you are, trying to stop me?!"

With a ferocious grunt, Salmon lunged forth, ramming both of his elbows forward – both, however, were blocked by the soldier's forearms without much difficulty.

"My name is Articho, and I am here to extinguish your hope."

Immediately, he went on a counterattack, pushing Salmon back with several powerful blows – a left hook and right hook, punches to the gut, moving and guarding himself like a boxer. The prince quickly put two and two together – the unit sent down by Frieza to quell the rebellion was called the Articho Force, and the name of the man fighting him was Articho, so... he must be their leader.

After defending himself for several strikes, the prince finally retaliated with a furious swing, only for his opponent to duck below and roll back – then suddenly slam both feet straight into his gut, knocking him away. With a purple aura roaring around him, Articho flew after him and finished the combination by smashing Salmon back into the ground with his elbow. The entire street shook from the sheer force of the blow, and the cone-like buildings surrounding it from either side cracked from the pressure.

"You can't win," the commander stated, bluntly, after landing on the ground with a brief slide. Salmon didn't take that well. Grunting, he pulled himself off the earth and yelled back:

"No... no... This isn't going to end like this! I am a noble! The strongest of my kind! My race... I can't let my race be humiliated by my failure..."

This line of thought finally forced some emotion out of Articho – a tired sigh. This isn't the first time he's had to deal with princes and nobles of warrior races, convinced that their birth and lineage alone made them inherently superior – his own race, handful of them as they were, had this exact kind of individual, and Articho has had to bear him for longer than he should have. The warrior moved into a fighting stance – a defensive one, with both arms raised. Right as Salmon threw another frustrated punch, he ducked under and struck the prince's weak points – the face, throat and lungs, each with a swift blow that broke his opponent's focus easily.

Dazed, Salmon could not defend himself against a full power energy wave, fired off straight at his chest. It lifted him into the air and slammed him against the wall of a large warehouse in the distance, the force breaking the building apart and letting it crumble. The wave wasn't enough to kill him – but, with his armour broken, limbs burned and body heavily wounded, it more or less marked the end of the fight, brief as it was.

"Damn it..."

Embedded in the ruins of one of the walls, Salmon let out a pained grunt, staring at Articho in the distance. His body was so broken that it could barely move – still, however, he put all the effort he could to try to drag himself out of the rubble. The prince's vision was turning blurry, his mind was becoming drowsy – getting to the spaceport and escaping the planet was now nothing more than a distant dream. So, if he can't avenge his race some other day, perhaps he can make a last stand here, and immortalise himself for generations.

Suddenly, a few energy bolts fired off from the distance flew straight at Salmon – though they appeared like simple blasts at first, they were actually rings, which popped onto his wrists and legs, violently tightening and immediately restraining him.

"H-huh?!" the prince yelped and immediately began pulling himself from side to side, to no avail. The ki used to construct these restraining bolts on his body was too powerful for him to break, especially in this beaten down state. From the sky, the final member of the Articho Force floated down, speaking:

"You would be wise to yield right now."

It was a woman, who appeared somewhat similar to Articho – both were humanoid, after all – but she sported teal skin, sharp, spiky ears, and a long, lush, bright ginger hairdo. Her right finger was still pointed at Salmon. Just as her boots touched the ground, her commander called out, approaching:

"Don't give him needless hope, Gomana. He's too dangerous to be kept alive."

"Oh, I know," Gomana answered back, briefly glancing at Articho over her shoulder. "I am merely informing him of his choices. Either he accepts his death now, and receives a quick, heroic death – or, he keeps struggling, and both him and his planet keep suffering."

"You... monsters!" the prince suddenly yelled at them both, getting both of the soldiers' attention. "All we wanted to do was to be free of your master's tyranny, to live our own lives, and here you are treating us like... playthings! Where's your compassion? Where's your heart?"

After a brief pause, Articho stepped forward, gathering energy in his right palm and stopping right in front of the defeated prince. In spite of the accusations, in spite of his opponent's impending execution, he remained stern and expressionless.

"We're not here to follow our heart. We're here to follow orders."


Hey everyone! It has been a long time since I last submitted a fic on this site - I am not terribly proud of the ones you can find in my profile, they still hold up somewhat but it has been a long time since I wrote them, so, writer's natural development.

I intend to work on this fic on my spare time, as just a way to spend time after work or studies so while I intend to update regularly, I cannot make any promises, so, y'know. As you can tell, Shadows of the Empire will focus on a crack team of Frieza's forces during the height and fall of his empire, so the story might get a little dark, but I will aim to avoid too much of it as I write. You can imagine that the characters don't start out nice, there's no need to consistently one-up myself to reinforce it.

It is also fully intended as a sort of "B-plot" to the main story of Dragon Ball, self-contained with its own protagonists and antagonists, so I do have to state from the beginning that the bulk of the fic will be OCs and their stories - though I do expect them to intermingle and connect with the characters we know from the manga if appropriate.

All feedback and commentary welcome, and I am happy to answer any questions as we go along.