Frigid
It's clear this opponent can suppress his combat level, and so the scouter is worthless against him, but it would be wasteful to leave such a valuable fragile machine in the current line of fire, and so before ascending to the cliffs I hand it to Uragiru.
Obviously, nothing he says is to be trusted; one minute he's the Super Saiyajin, and the next he doesn't want to fight me! As though the Super Saiyajin could do other than fight, and like any Saiyajin wouldn't gladly kill to get his hands on an Icejin, after the unpleasantness between my brother and their race. But regardless of his species, this is clearly a creature of cruelty after Furiza's own soul, a player of the same old games and tricks. I could say I didn't really want to fight, accept a truce and try to walk away, and be struck down the second I thought myself safe, and suffer all the more and look the fool because of it; I know how these things work. I grew up around them. Like it would be so much trouble for the real Super Saiyajin to do away with /me/, anyway. Well, if he can kill me he will; I'll make him.
But listen to me! I can't make up my mind about a thing, can I? One second I want nothing more than to be dead now, done with life and back with Frost -- where ever that may be -- before the illness moves into its more painful stages, the next I want to kill the Super Saiyajin as a matter of pride, the next I want to break down and weep.
One second I know it's in Aiken's best interest that she die now, without the suffering her nature will inflict upon her when I'm gone, that I ought to kill her myself, even. The next I'm moving the battle away from her unconscious form so she's less likely to be injured. But what can one do?
He lands across from me, just as my feet touch the stone. A slight clench of his fists, and an aura of yellow light breaks out around him, bathing his body in energy that looks as though to burn, and lifting his now golden hair toward the sky, like it's supported by an upwards blowing wind.
"Ah, here's the Super Saiyajin," I said, trying to remain unafraid. Nothing, I don't believe, I have ever seen has been so impressive and so abjectly terrifying. "Now I believe you."
"This is just the first one," he said back, calm for all the world. "I can do better."
No, this won't go well and it won't be easy, however it ends up. There's no way out of it now though, and if I was smart I wouldn't want there to be. But what I think and what I do have nothing in common, and as divided as I am inside none of it shows.
There's a thick wall of stone to my back, and the others stand in the distance, looking up at us from my right. Aiken still hasn't stirred, and the little fellow in the gi similar Goku's is approaching her. "Get him away from there," I demanded, because I wouldn't trust this group for a moment.
"Why?" he asked, and I could almost believe he's confused. "Oh," he added abruptly, his voice far too innocent for what I would have expected from the Super Saiyajin. "Kuririn won't hurt her /now/. So don't worry about that; pay attention to me." And he began to charge a ball of energy in his palm, looking rather pleased with himself and the ease with which it formed all the while. "Sure you want to do this?" I raised my chin, and he shrugged. "All right, but I'll send it slow, kay?" Pulling his arm back he tossed the blue ball of fire at me with terrific speed but no great effort. I couldn't guess how powerful it was, and stepped to the side impulsively, allowing it to hit the stone wall.
Even as fast as he is, and as easily he took Aiken down, I had hardly expected that little attack to hold so much power. And fool that I am, I hadn't considered my ship...
The ball burrowed through meters of hard granite, and moved on to the valley where my ship stood, unprotected and undefendable. And when it hit, the ship was, quite simply, vaporized, the hills surrounding it thrown upwards to come raining down into the crater where my home had stood.
My fingers curl inward, purple nails biting at the flesh of my palms as I watch the cloud of ruble descend. "Oops!" I hear him said, "Guess I made it too strong, huh? Sorry..." and I turned toward him, moving very slowly least I lose control of myself, and slapped the bloody idiot across the face. The blow was resounding, like the sudden crack of rock against rock, but his flesh didn't yield, and all I accomplished was making my hand ache.
"Mock /me/! You think it's a joke?" I said.
He grabbed my wrist, holding it firmly but not so tightly that it hurt. "That's not nice," he said, as though I was a child he could scold.
I shook free, though in all honesty only because he allowed me to do so. "Incompetent!" I shouted in his face. "Oaf! Fool! I said me, not the ship -- the ship was mine!"
Then I feel it coming on, and at such an inconvenient time. It has nothing to do with me being angry -- if it was dictated by mood there wouldn't be any trouble. It's a rare thing for me to become so angry, I'm proud to say, and indeed, it wasn't until Frost died and the illness really began to set in that I became so despicably wishy-washy, and that my fears and moods began to hold such sway over me. The day was I had complete control over myself and my emotions at all times. There's another fear, and another good reason to die now rather than later; if this keeps up, I worry that I may come to be as mad as Furiza.
But it's outside of my control, and my throat's tightening up, locking off the dry desert air. I step away from him, debating if fleeing was an acceptable way to avoid embarrassment and hoping that if I turn my back to him he'll take the opportunity to kill me, and thus dying with as little shame as possible. Instead I hear him moving toward me, feet dragging uncertainly in the gravel. I can feel him peering over my shoulder while I gasp, my arms wrapped around my chest so not to clutch at my throat.
"Is she okay?" the same little one who was bothering over Aiken called up, as though he should be worried too. "Did you hurt her?"
"Uh-uh," Goku said. "I don't think so..." I hate this. Now he's reaching out, touching my shoulder without permission. "Are you okay?" he asked, like it's a simple thing. I don't want his hand on me; it's rough and moist and warm and nothing like good Icejin skin, or even Aiken's fur. I want Frost. What the hell's /wrong/ with these people?
Here's a small thing to be thankful for; it's receding, nearly as quickly as it came on. I'm angry -- and I admit it -- but he shouldn't act like that. I don't expect kindness or mercy, just please, a little tact. And I probably shouldn't have hit him then, but as I said, I become angry when people treat me like that.
With a rejuvenative gasp, I shot my elbow out, catching him good enough to produce a grunt, even as unyielding as his flesh is. He stumbled backward half a step, nearly losing his balance. "Good," I said, as his face hardened. In that instant, it's as though he's a different, meaner person. "There, you see?"
I'm not sure if I was kicked or punched or slapped, it happened so fast; it maybe that he never physically struck me, but whatever the attack, it hurt immensely. I soared backwards, shamming into stone that shattered under the impact. And here he is above me, arms crossed over his chest, completely unfazed. I'm not used to fighting like this. I don't enjoy it, and in all honesty I don't know what I'm doing; I don't think I'm capable of getting up to face another blow like that.
"Well?" he said. "Done yet?"
My tail aches, and I suspect it made be crushed; my back's bruised by the stone and my shoulder bleeds; the pain where he struck me immense and total, permeating my whole body. I've heard people speak of pain like this with great desire, as though it were some form of spiritual or sexual fulfillment, but to me it is only pain. My lungs hurt. I should get up and continue the fight.
I'm tried.
"Are you the one who killed Furiza and Koola and Kold?" I ask, but I won't look him in the eyes when I say this. I couldn't tell you if I really care anymore.
"These things are complicated," he said to me, and it seems to come from far away. I'm watching a small frightened lizard crawl among the scattered stones of its home. "I didn't kill any of them myself completely, but if you need to lay blame I'm the closest thing to it here, though I think it was their own fault. You all make me do these things; I don't know why. It's dumb."
"You miss the point," I said. "But they're dead, and if you had a hand in it be proud; a triumph for the Saiyajin, yes?" He frowns, but I go on; "So kill me now, too; end the line, avenge the Saiyajin and obtain justice for so many races."
"Why should I?" he said, face so confused that I believe I went over his head, but then, he is Saiyajin. "I don't worry about the Saiyajin, and Yamucha's okay. You aren't any fun to fight anyway; no challenge.
"Why don't you just transform?" he said finally, in an offended tone.
Ass. "I'll make it hard on you if you don't," I said, and maybe I mean it and maybe I don't. "You may be untouchable, but how many thousands -- millions -- humans can I kill the minute you turn your back on me? That's what you /do/ worry about, isn't it? The people here. You'd better kill me."
He tightens his fists and steps toward me, and I think maybe I've got my way and he'll do it, but then /she/ got in the way.
"Hey, Goku!" one of the others called up, though with no real urgency, "she's awake!" And then Aiken was between he and myself, crouched near the ground wobbly, shoulders bristling.
"Don't you touch the Lady Frigid," she growled. "Don't you, don't you dare."
"Aiken, stand down!" I said, trying to compose myself. She looked back at me, loathed to take her eyes from the enemy but confused and in need of reassurance. How I wish she hadn't woken. "You're in the way," I tell her. "Move."
She whines and shifts her bare feet nervously, but doesn't leave the defensive position in front of me. "Don't you, don't you," she repeats to Goku, trying to sound mean, but it came out as a lost whimper.
"Do it!" I shouted. I won't say what in front of her. So she can't see and will barely know, I demand, "Her first -- then me; Just do it!"
"Do? What'll he do?" Aiken asks me, and I don't think I've seen her so frightened in all her life. I didn't want things to happen this way. I didn't want her to get scared. "No one's going to hurt my Mistress -- I won't let them!" She looked back to Goku, out of fear he'd moved. Why'd she have to wake up?
"I'll make it hard on you," I said to him again. "I swear I'll make it hard on you." This is desperation.
He glanced at me, then looked to Aiken, her tail held low and ears laid against her skull in anger and fear and helplessness and his whole demeanor seems to transform. As he stepped pasted her she moved to the side willingly, though there was still an air of nervous meanness about her. "Don't now," she said. "Don't, don't now," and he reached out and patted the child on the head, showing no fear of the white flash of teeth. This is where, I think, loyalties began to merge, and normally it would have been completely unacceptable, but given the circumstances it may be a very good thing.
Moving on, he bent over and offered me his hand. No one's done that since Frost died. "You can't be anymore troublesome than most of the others used to be. It's okay. Come on." And what can one do? It would be rude to refuse. But Gods, I'm tried.
It's clear this opponent can suppress his combat level, and so the scouter is worthless against him, but it would be wasteful to leave such a valuable fragile machine in the current line of fire, and so before ascending to the cliffs I hand it to Uragiru.
Obviously, nothing he says is to be trusted; one minute he's the Super Saiyajin, and the next he doesn't want to fight me! As though the Super Saiyajin could do other than fight, and like any Saiyajin wouldn't gladly kill to get his hands on an Icejin, after the unpleasantness between my brother and their race. But regardless of his species, this is clearly a creature of cruelty after Furiza's own soul, a player of the same old games and tricks. I could say I didn't really want to fight, accept a truce and try to walk away, and be struck down the second I thought myself safe, and suffer all the more and look the fool because of it; I know how these things work. I grew up around them. Like it would be so much trouble for the real Super Saiyajin to do away with /me/, anyway. Well, if he can kill me he will; I'll make him.
But listen to me! I can't make up my mind about a thing, can I? One second I want nothing more than to be dead now, done with life and back with Frost -- where ever that may be -- before the illness moves into its more painful stages, the next I want to kill the Super Saiyajin as a matter of pride, the next I want to break down and weep.
One second I know it's in Aiken's best interest that she die now, without the suffering her nature will inflict upon her when I'm gone, that I ought to kill her myself, even. The next I'm moving the battle away from her unconscious form so she's less likely to be injured. But what can one do?
He lands across from me, just as my feet touch the stone. A slight clench of his fists, and an aura of yellow light breaks out around him, bathing his body in energy that looks as though to burn, and lifting his now golden hair toward the sky, like it's supported by an upwards blowing wind.
"Ah, here's the Super Saiyajin," I said, trying to remain unafraid. Nothing, I don't believe, I have ever seen has been so impressive and so abjectly terrifying. "Now I believe you."
"This is just the first one," he said back, calm for all the world. "I can do better."
No, this won't go well and it won't be easy, however it ends up. There's no way out of it now though, and if I was smart I wouldn't want there to be. But what I think and what I do have nothing in common, and as divided as I am inside none of it shows.
There's a thick wall of stone to my back, and the others stand in the distance, looking up at us from my right. Aiken still hasn't stirred, and the little fellow in the gi similar Goku's is approaching her. "Get him away from there," I demanded, because I wouldn't trust this group for a moment.
"Why?" he asked, and I could almost believe he's confused. "Oh," he added abruptly, his voice far too innocent for what I would have expected from the Super Saiyajin. "Kuririn won't hurt her /now/. So don't worry about that; pay attention to me." And he began to charge a ball of energy in his palm, looking rather pleased with himself and the ease with which it formed all the while. "Sure you want to do this?" I raised my chin, and he shrugged. "All right, but I'll send it slow, kay?" Pulling his arm back he tossed the blue ball of fire at me with terrific speed but no great effort. I couldn't guess how powerful it was, and stepped to the side impulsively, allowing it to hit the stone wall.
Even as fast as he is, and as easily he took Aiken down, I had hardly expected that little attack to hold so much power. And fool that I am, I hadn't considered my ship...
The ball burrowed through meters of hard granite, and moved on to the valley where my ship stood, unprotected and undefendable. And when it hit, the ship was, quite simply, vaporized, the hills surrounding it thrown upwards to come raining down into the crater where my home had stood.
My fingers curl inward, purple nails biting at the flesh of my palms as I watch the cloud of ruble descend. "Oops!" I hear him said, "Guess I made it too strong, huh? Sorry..." and I turned toward him, moving very slowly least I lose control of myself, and slapped the bloody idiot across the face. The blow was resounding, like the sudden crack of rock against rock, but his flesh didn't yield, and all I accomplished was making my hand ache.
"Mock /me/! You think it's a joke?" I said.
He grabbed my wrist, holding it firmly but not so tightly that it hurt. "That's not nice," he said, as though I was a child he could scold.
I shook free, though in all honesty only because he allowed me to do so. "Incompetent!" I shouted in his face. "Oaf! Fool! I said me, not the ship -- the ship was mine!"
Then I feel it coming on, and at such an inconvenient time. It has nothing to do with me being angry -- if it was dictated by mood there wouldn't be any trouble. It's a rare thing for me to become so angry, I'm proud to say, and indeed, it wasn't until Frost died and the illness really began to set in that I became so despicably wishy-washy, and that my fears and moods began to hold such sway over me. The day was I had complete control over myself and my emotions at all times. There's another fear, and another good reason to die now rather than later; if this keeps up, I worry that I may come to be as mad as Furiza.
But it's outside of my control, and my throat's tightening up, locking off the dry desert air. I step away from him, debating if fleeing was an acceptable way to avoid embarrassment and hoping that if I turn my back to him he'll take the opportunity to kill me, and thus dying with as little shame as possible. Instead I hear him moving toward me, feet dragging uncertainly in the gravel. I can feel him peering over my shoulder while I gasp, my arms wrapped around my chest so not to clutch at my throat.
"Is she okay?" the same little one who was bothering over Aiken called up, as though he should be worried too. "Did you hurt her?"
"Uh-uh," Goku said. "I don't think so..." I hate this. Now he's reaching out, touching my shoulder without permission. "Are you okay?" he asked, like it's a simple thing. I don't want his hand on me; it's rough and moist and warm and nothing like good Icejin skin, or even Aiken's fur. I want Frost. What the hell's /wrong/ with these people?
Here's a small thing to be thankful for; it's receding, nearly as quickly as it came on. I'm angry -- and I admit it -- but he shouldn't act like that. I don't expect kindness or mercy, just please, a little tact. And I probably shouldn't have hit him then, but as I said, I become angry when people treat me like that.
With a rejuvenative gasp, I shot my elbow out, catching him good enough to produce a grunt, even as unyielding as his flesh is. He stumbled backward half a step, nearly losing his balance. "Good," I said, as his face hardened. In that instant, it's as though he's a different, meaner person. "There, you see?"
I'm not sure if I was kicked or punched or slapped, it happened so fast; it maybe that he never physically struck me, but whatever the attack, it hurt immensely. I soared backwards, shamming into stone that shattered under the impact. And here he is above me, arms crossed over his chest, completely unfazed. I'm not used to fighting like this. I don't enjoy it, and in all honesty I don't know what I'm doing; I don't think I'm capable of getting up to face another blow like that.
"Well?" he said. "Done yet?"
My tail aches, and I suspect it made be crushed; my back's bruised by the stone and my shoulder bleeds; the pain where he struck me immense and total, permeating my whole body. I've heard people speak of pain like this with great desire, as though it were some form of spiritual or sexual fulfillment, but to me it is only pain. My lungs hurt. I should get up and continue the fight.
I'm tried.
"Are you the one who killed Furiza and Koola and Kold?" I ask, but I won't look him in the eyes when I say this. I couldn't tell you if I really care anymore.
"These things are complicated," he said to me, and it seems to come from far away. I'm watching a small frightened lizard crawl among the scattered stones of its home. "I didn't kill any of them myself completely, but if you need to lay blame I'm the closest thing to it here, though I think it was their own fault. You all make me do these things; I don't know why. It's dumb."
"You miss the point," I said. "But they're dead, and if you had a hand in it be proud; a triumph for the Saiyajin, yes?" He frowns, but I go on; "So kill me now, too; end the line, avenge the Saiyajin and obtain justice for so many races."
"Why should I?" he said, face so confused that I believe I went over his head, but then, he is Saiyajin. "I don't worry about the Saiyajin, and Yamucha's okay. You aren't any fun to fight anyway; no challenge.
"Why don't you just transform?" he said finally, in an offended tone.
Ass. "I'll make it hard on you if you don't," I said, and maybe I mean it and maybe I don't. "You may be untouchable, but how many thousands -- millions -- humans can I kill the minute you turn your back on me? That's what you /do/ worry about, isn't it? The people here. You'd better kill me."
He tightens his fists and steps toward me, and I think maybe I've got my way and he'll do it, but then /she/ got in the way.
"Hey, Goku!" one of the others called up, though with no real urgency, "she's awake!" And then Aiken was between he and myself, crouched near the ground wobbly, shoulders bristling.
"Don't you touch the Lady Frigid," she growled. "Don't you, don't you dare."
"Aiken, stand down!" I said, trying to compose myself. She looked back at me, loathed to take her eyes from the enemy but confused and in need of reassurance. How I wish she hadn't woken. "You're in the way," I tell her. "Move."
She whines and shifts her bare feet nervously, but doesn't leave the defensive position in front of me. "Don't you, don't you," she repeats to Goku, trying to sound mean, but it came out as a lost whimper.
"Do it!" I shouted. I won't say what in front of her. So she can't see and will barely know, I demand, "Her first -- then me; Just do it!"
"Do? What'll he do?" Aiken asks me, and I don't think I've seen her so frightened in all her life. I didn't want things to happen this way. I didn't want her to get scared. "No one's going to hurt my Mistress -- I won't let them!" She looked back to Goku, out of fear he'd moved. Why'd she have to wake up?
"I'll make it hard on you," I said to him again. "I swear I'll make it hard on you." This is desperation.
He glanced at me, then looked to Aiken, her tail held low and ears laid against her skull in anger and fear and helplessness and his whole demeanor seems to transform. As he stepped pasted her she moved to the side willingly, though there was still an air of nervous meanness about her. "Don't now," she said. "Don't, don't now," and he reached out and patted the child on the head, showing no fear of the white flash of teeth. This is where, I think, loyalties began to merge, and normally it would have been completely unacceptable, but given the circumstances it may be a very good thing.
Moving on, he bent over and offered me his hand. No one's done that since Frost died. "You can't be anymore troublesome than most of the others used to be. It's okay. Come on." And what can one do? It would be rude to refuse. But Gods, I'm tried.