Age 761

Planet Frieza 79

Through one channel or another, bits and pieces about the events on Planet Boiler slowly became common knowledge across the vast establishments on Frieza 79, and then became a topic of discussion. Some sort of immortal, unkillable warlord terrorising the outer rim sectors of the Galaxy, whom Frieza wanted to be killed somehow anyway? Good luck to the team assigned to make it happen, but perhaps don't get too attached to them any longer. Articho generally ignored this commentary and discussion in the halls.

In the end, he believed, all he needed was a good plan and favourable circumstances. There were inklings of one coming up in his mind, but nothing certain yet – and any strategy he did come up for a second battle against Trombone would inevitably rely on fragmented information. Was this perfect immortality, how far did the limits of Trombone's physical power go, and will he bring something to counter the Force's abilities the next time they meet? His escape from the Boiler underground was only a matter of time, after all.

The door in front of him slid open, letting Articho into a long corridor. As he made his way through, the door on the other side opened as well, letting another Saiyan in. The new arrival immediately said:

"Well, this is a surprise."

Articho, witnessing the shorter man, briefly winced, but continued walking – at least until he crossed the distance between them.

Prince Vegeta. For some, he was the leader of the surviving Saiyans under Frieza's empire – all four of them, that is. Their effectively extinct number never stopped Vegeta from claiming the title, however.

"Surprise that I'm here, or that I'm still alive?" Articho shot back, stopping in front of Vegeta – a head taller than the Prince, he looked down upon his fellow Saiyan.

"Both. I'm only here for a few hours – and yet I've already heard of rumours about your last mission. Quite an interesting opponent you found there – as pathetic as it is that your little "elite team" had to leave the planet in failure."

"It was only a failure strategically. As far as the battle is concerned, Trombone was left incapacitated. Besides, both of us know that your kindergarten would have done even worse."

The shot at Vegeta's team did not faze him – it got the Prince to smirk, in fact. "Raditz and Nappa are good at what they need to be good at – salutation, and listening to their ruler. A true Saiyan doesn't let their glory be overshadowed by their squad of minions."

Before Articho could answer, Vegeta faintly laughed to himself under his breath, folding his arms. "Well... now only Nappa."

"What? What happened to Raditz?"

"Oh, he's dead. It happened not that long ago, actually," the Prince began to explain, keeping up a smile. The loss of one of his long-time comrades did not seem to affect him at all – if anything, remembering the incident amused him. "After our mission to Planet Shikk and our meeting with Lord Frieza, Raditz left on a personal mission – apparently, his brother, Kakarot, was sent to some backwater world right before our planet's destruction, to a planet called Earth. We've got news from him recently, and it turns out he was so incompetent that he managed to get himself killed out there."

Hearing the news, Articho looked down at the floor in silence, but Vegeta interrupted his sombre acceptance of the fact by continuing:

"What, are you sad? Raditz was pathetic, he was going to get himself killed, anyway."

"You're rather nonchalant about the death of one third of your remaining subjects..."

"Tsk. It's not the number of subjects that matters, but whether a truly Saiyan soul still exists somewhere in the Universe," Vegeta shot back. "And that can only be extinguished by killing me."

Yet again, with Saiyan spirit, Saiyan pride, Saiyan everything. Articho sighed and moved on to another topic:

"What about this... "Kakarot"? Did Raditz find him there?"

"Oh, yes, but he's dead as well. Apparently, he was even more pathetic than Raditz, choosing to bond with the natives of Earth instead of exterminating them," After the explanation, Vegeta flashed a wide smirk. "You two failures would find some common ground, there."

"...That's not what happened on Furnit."

"But you failed your mission nonetheless."

"A mission which I was never told of."

"Well, anyway, there's something a lot more interesting about Kakarot's home planet than that," Vegeta pointed at his scouter. "While Raditz was on Earth, we listened to his scouter communications. Those "Dragon Balls" you mentioned to Frieza? They exist on Earth as well."

Now those news actually shocked Articho, and he made a step back. "...What?!"

"That's what the Earthlings told Raditz. They are planning to use those artifacts to bring Kakarot back to life. But what me and Nappa are going to do is... go to Earth ourselves, and use them to grant ourselves immortality. Frieza will not know, nor the rest of his empire, that we swiped immortality from under his nose, and we're now unbeatable."

"You're crazy..."

"Well, perhaps, but I'll let the future decide that," Vegeta stretched his hand out to Articho. "As pathetic as you are, Articho, both by blood and in character, you're welcome to leave your miserable team behind and join us. Once we grant ourselves immortality, we will begin our own conquest of the Universe – and if you are on our side, perhaps we will leave you alive. You're still a Saiyan, even if you're low class."

Articho looked down at Vegeta's offered hand, then stared back into the Prince.

"You're the one who's pathetic, thinking that you need to chase rumours to achieve greatness."

Vegeta lowered his hand. "If that's what you want. What's your plan, then – to serve Frieza forever? Or, rather, until he finally gets rid of you?"

After one more glance at the Prince, Articho moved forward without giving him an answer. Vegeta remained in the same spot her stood, briefly looking over his shoulder, and said his last piece before departing himself:

"Next time you see me, I will be immortal."

Several floors below the complex, a large training hall was established for the soldiers stationed on the planet. It rarely, if ever, saw activity – the common soldiers of the Frieza Force were weak and could barely use ki, whereas the elite were mutants who received their powers from birth, and saw no interest in growing stronger. Why does it matter if you are at the top of the Universe already? And besides, trying to improve yourself and push your limits might give the wrong idea to Lord Frieza, and he did not tolerate people whom he suspected of plotting rebellion.

Today was not one of those days – the training hall was busy, so much that the surrounding quarters quaked from the shockwaves, annoying soldiers and staff whose tables trembled and mugs kept falling to the floor.

The door of the hall slid open.

"Oh, here you are," Gomana said as she walked inside. Margar was throwing punches in the centre of the ring, working on even greater focus of his power into his fists, while Caesa was in the corner, having brought some lab equipment from elsewhere and turned it into a makeshift workbench. "What are you two doing?"

After another powerful punch into the air, which sent a whirlwind that slammed into a wall dozens of meters away, Margar turned to their teammate and answered:

"We're gonna get thrown into the meat grinder against Trombone eventually again, so I'd rather go there prepared. That bastard managed to match me blow for blow, so I need to get stronger to match him back."

"Right..."

Perhaps she could push herself a little as well... However, a thought kept refusing to leave Gomana's mind ever since the battle on Planet Boiler, which fought against any enthusiasm she might have had.

"But Margar, he is immortal. What can we even do against that?" the soldier asked as she approached her teammate in the centre.

"I'm not buying it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, there is a lot of grey area in what "immortality" means, and I am not going to lie, whatever Trombone is doing must just be some form of extreme regeneration. And that can always be powered through, as long as you have enough force."

"I've analysed genetic samples from Trombone's flesh and it is really odd," Caesa suddenly interjected, drawing both of his teammates' attention to him. "He shouldn't be capable of such regeneration. Nothing in the genetic code tells the body to do so, at most, he should be capable of regenerating limbs with considerable physical effort."

"What? But we saw him recover from more than that!" Gomana yelled. "You-you all saw me cut that bastard's head off! He stood up like nothing happened and punched past all of us!"

"I know, that's the odd part," Caesa answered. "Whatever caused him to be able to survive decapitation and blowing his head off must operate from beyond the genetic code. I don't know... some sort of magic, otherworldly connection, perhaps?"

Gomana and Margar looked at one another.

"In short, science can't explain it."

"Well, I'll work on getting stronger, anyway," Margar shot back, slamming his fist into his hand with a faint grin. "Someone's gonna need to punch that Trombone guy whenever we do have to fight him again."

"Freaking weirdo..." Caesa mumbled under his breath and returned back to his research. Why would a mutant like Margar ever bother to train further than his natural power allows? The Brenchian could not understand it – but, the matters of the muscle heads were not his forte, anyway. Instead, he moved on to focus on what this spliced Trombone DNA could do for him - perhaps it could help him improve his Saibamen batch further.

"Yeah, I guess..." Gomana conceded, briefly stretching her arms above her head. She figured that she might as well work a little herself – especially as she, unlike Margar, was not a mutant. After stretching, she moved into a fighting stance, briefly hopping with her feet to get muscles warmed up – her teammate answered in kind, getting ready for a sparring match. "I'm just wondering – what's our plan going to be if we can't manage to figure it out?"

"You mean, aside from dying?" Margar answered, opening up with a few jabs and getting Gomana on the defensive.

"Well, I mean, yeah, if we genuinely fail, then Trombone is going to kill us, yeah," she replied and briefly slid back. Weaving under and past Margar's following kicks, she attacked with an elbow shot. "But, what I was wondering about is... if it turns out he is genuinely immortal, and we fail Frieza's orders again, what are we going to do? Run away? Then where?"

Margar did not answer. Gomana continued attacking. While the blue giant's attacks were all blunt straightforward blows, hers were a lot more acrobatic and flamboyant – spinning across the air after a leap, she sent several kicks down at her opponent's face and chest, then slammed both arms down in an X formation to push Margar away.

"Do either of you even have a planet to return to?"

"Not anymore," Margar answered. In response to her acrobatics display, he answered with a full force shoulder slam which swatted Gomana away. "Frieza blew it up. Only fifty of us survived, specifically selected as the strongest warriors that were still loyal to him after our rebellion."

"And..."

"And no, I don't know what I would do if I end up under Frieza's ire. Frieza is the reason why I'm still alive, so I can't imagine-"

"Frieza is the reason why you had to beg to stay alive in the first place!" Gomana yelled, suddenly growing increasingly angry. The frustration caught up to Margar, who shot back:

"So what?! Someone would have done the same if it weren't for Frieza, anyway!" Gritting his teeth, Margar launched himself forward, meeting Gomana's elbow with one of his own. "It's a galaxy where dog eats dog, where those born with unbelievable power can boss around others like gods...! In conditions like these, you and I should be thankful that we ended up in the right camp, and that we're not drawing the ire of the god who's running the show in the Galaxy today. Who knows, if he weren't here, someone else would have taken his place – and we'd have ended up among the billions of corpses!"

Staring in disbelief, Gomana withdrew her elbow, taking a step back. She wanted to yell back, explain how wrong he was. That there was more than just destruction and death in the Galaxy, that it wasn't destined to end up under a ceaseless succession of godlike tyrants. However, words got stuck in her throat, she didn't even know how to respond. So, Margar finished:

"I don't ask myself questions like these. I owe my life to Lord Frieza, and I don't want to think of a situation where he takes that gift away. So, we will defeat Lord Trombone. It is an order, for all of us."

Of the Articho Force, Margar was the oldest, a true veteran much like the peers of his race in Frieza's army, including Burter. So, hearing his submissive outlook really stung. Gomana was the complete opposite, after all – she had become a member of the Frieza Force not that long ago, and was the youngest in their team, just a year behind Articho himself.

Caesa was listening from the corner, and finally butted in:

"Well, you two are certainly drama queens. All your planets need to do is just not rebel, and they'll be fine."

"Yeah, right..." Gomana shot back, sarcastically, then moved back into a fighting stance. "Alright, where were we?"

Thousands of lightyears away, a green arm burst out from smoking rubble, clutching onto the nearest rock and pulling up. A blast of energy followed, vaporizing a large area around the arm and allowing the rest of the decapitated body to pull itself back to the surface. There, it briefly stumbled, disoriented.

The Boilers scrambled out of their caverns as soon as the Articho Force departed from the planet, and quickly found Trombone's head – fearful for what it might do to them, they threw the head into the nearest shaft, where it rolled across damp caverns and caves for several miles. This disoriented the Namekian's energy senses, and it took him a while to realize where his body was standing in relation to his head.

"I'm getting tired of this..." he muttered. The body raised a massive blast of energy above itself, and tossed it into the direction where the head was last thrown. It rolled through much of the planet like a ceaseless tsunami, vaporizing almost a third of the world and sending debris across orbit. The impact was shattering enough to Planet Boiler that any living beings still inhabiting it perished almost instantly – flooded by a land-rupturing shockwave, enormous heat, or simply ending up in the path of the explosion.

The stump between Trombone's shoulders finally began growing back – he managed to hit his head and disintegrate it, and so, his body could finally grow a new one. Unlike his limbs or even torso, the head was a bit awkward to regenerate – naturally, even an immortal like him could not have two, competing heads.

"Ah, that's better," the Namekian spoke to himself when the last of the ears and antennae recovered. For a few seconds, he stood in the apocalyptic landscape of nigh-destroyed Boiler, observing his hands and then the surroundings.

There was no getting around it – he was utterly humiliated by the Saiyan and his crew, in a way that none of his fellow Namekians resisting his rule ever managed. He underestimated them, he did not use anywhere near the full extent of his abilities while battling them, and he paid the price.

This humiliation cannot stand.

But avenging it will take time. The entire Demon Clan has been destroyed today. He needs the manpower to rebuild his conquest fleet, and that will require time, effort, and a new base. Perhaps even months.

But that's a paltry amount of time compared to what I've lived through. Let Articho and his little posse have a few months to prepare for the inevitable rematch – then, I'll make them kneel, as they were supposed to.

Them, then the rest of this pathetic Galaxy.