A/N: Well here is Chapter 4. Have to thank the Bardock from my RP group for letting me use his characterization of the purge commander. Please review. Thank you for reading.

Ch 4

Tarma stood over the bloody form of her latest opponent. It had been too easy and she was barley out of breath. The killing fields where like a bio-dome with ever type of terrain one could think of. Two combatants entered but only one left. The contest was slated to last half the day and she had finished the weak little maggot in less than an hour. She sighed and started towards a stream to wash the blood from her face and hands. The down time after her fights was the closes she got to feeling free again. She made a point not to look up at the dome that kept her in this place. Like the bars of her cell the dome was infused with Ki reducing energy. She sat down by the stream and let her eyes take in the area she was in, temperate woodlands, rich in plant and animal life. These bi-domes where used for more than just the fights. The wealthy hunted the game here and held parties. The field manager, the only one that could open the doors, scheduled each event. The idea of hunting sounded good to Tarma. Finding an area she could mark, she striped off her boots, her fighting armor had been ruined in the crash. Her crimson half shirt stopped short of her mid-drift and her tight black leggings stop at mid-calf, normally her boots and fighting armor would make up for the lack of coverage. With a wolfish grin she started down a game trail. Nostrils flaring in an effort to sent prey. Her bare feet leaving barely a mark in the pounded dirt of the trail. She made no sound, her tail held high behind her like a proud flag. Bending down she studied the tracks of a deer. She scented the ground, yes the tracks where fresh. A feral gleam had come to her dark eyes. The deer had left the trail and entered a thicket; her hands hovered over the trail as if reading the tracks like brail. Here, the tracks left the trail. Bare feet
took her soundlessly onto the leaf litter of the forest floor. She
tucked her tail in now, so as not to give herself away too soon. Eyes
scanned the underbrush and smoothly picked out the path the deer had taken. A broken branch, a hoof print in soft moss. Easy signs for her to follow. Once more she brought her head up and scented the wind. Then she froze and crouched down into the underbrush. Not twenty feet from her was the deer, munching away on the tender grasses by a stream. Tarma's blood started to race with the joy of the hunt. She stalked as close as she dared, then huddled down in the brush. Around her waist her tail tip was taping like mad. The deer raised its head and looked around, then went back to munching. A large buck, Tarma thought, maybe it will try to fight me. She smirked at the idea but a short struggle no matter how useless would make the kill all the more better. Getting into a runners crouch she eyed her prey. She did a mental count and broke cover; tail releasing from her waist to flag high behind her. The deer jerked its head up and broke into a startled run. Bare feet pounding the ground, Tarma raced after the swift beast, letting it pull away from her for a short time. When she
tried of the game, she easily closed the distance and leaped at the
creature. Hands griping at the large rack on its head. Baring her
teeth in a primal growl she gave a twist to the deer's head and
snapped it's neck. The creature went limp in a heartbeat, making no
noise. Tarma release a roar of triumph that echoed thru the forest.
Slinging the creature over her shoulder she headed back to where she had left her boots.

Tarma was wiping the blood from her lips when her sense alerted her that some thing was not right with the area. Someone or something was moving though the woods off to her right. She shifted her dark gaze from side to side, ear twitching, swiftly she rose to her feet and pulled on her boots. Like she had the deer earlier she was now being hunted. A large dark form moved thru the brush and Tarma spun on her heel to face it only to ear the dry snapping of a twig behind her. Who could be in here with her she wondered. The field manager would have sounded the horn when her time was over or before letting in a new challenger. She had little time to worry over it because the dark form flew at her. Acting out of instinct Tarma threw a punch at the figure. Her punch landed on tense stomach muscles and the figures momentum took them both to the ground. They rolled in a tangle of limbs, with grunts, snarls and curses. When they finished rolling Tarma found herself penned under her attacker, she growled and head butted the person hard. There was a crack and a snarled curse. Hands griped her arms and penned them over her head.

"Gods, Woman! Stay still."

Tarma paused in her struggle to get free and took a look at the person holding her.

"You! How did you get in here?"

The big saiyan male smirked down at his captive, onyx eyes snapping with mischief.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Tarma took a good look at him, he wore a red strip of cloth around his forehead like a bandana and tuck into this a severed thumb, like some grisly trophy. A few things fell into place for her. Somehow he had gotten away from the guards, beaten the field manager and ripped his thumb off to gain entrance to the field.

"Who are you?" The question burned in her mind, she had to know.