Namek
Chapter 60: Mission Critical
Nail's outline was consumed by bright, cauterizing light; Piccolo watched as the blast traveled beneath him and scraped off one entire side of the pillar as it raced towards the far-off ground below. Halfway down, Piccolo directed the energy to curve away from the spire and had it explode harmlessly in the open air.
He waited. When Nail finally reappeared below him, singed arms spread protectively in front of him, Piccolo had grown tired of waiting. Speeding down, Piccolo extended one hand and swiped it against Nail's block.
To his surprise, a pair of hands clamped down on his outstretched wrist. Nail, boring into him with deep-set eyes, said nothing as he leaned back in the air- pulling Piccolo forward in the process- and swerved, spinning Piccolo around in a half-circle before releasing him the way he had directed his earlier blast. Careening through the air, Piccolo twisted and lashed out with his arm, smashing it across a pursuing Nail's face and momentarily knocking his pursuer back. 'Thought I didn't see that?' Piccolo taunted.
'No,' a chilling voice from behind him whispered. Before he could turn, Piccolo felt a palm slam into his upper back, flipping him in mid-air and halting his momentum. Nail slammed another palm strike into Piccolo's chest, causing air to rush out of his lungs, and grabbed Piccolo by his right leg and rocketed them upward. In an instant they were level with the spire, and with a mighty groan, Nail thrust his weight forward, extended his right arm by ten feet, and slammed Piccolo into the spire's top. A great cloud of dust and dirt sprouted and shot into the air.
Disoriented, Piccolo blinked until he could see straight. His hands groped around his chest to make sure he hadn't been impaled- and froze when he realized Nail's arm was gripped around his gi.
Stepping over Piccolo's supine body, Nail yanked hard and pulled Piccolo off of the ground. With his other hand, he held it at his side and began to fill it with energy. 'You embody every detestable trait a Namekian could possess,' Nail pronounced. 'Pride, arrogance, and selfishness. You are broken.'
With every word that tumbled out of Nail's mouth, Piccolo grew more and more aware of the gap between in power. Nail was not significantly stronger than him… but it was enough. He had made a fatal misjudgment just under a day of having being brought back to life. A type of misjudgment, he now reflected, that looked to be more and more essential to him and his father.
'Well? Do you have anything to say?'
Piccolo's eyes landed on the Nail's face. In spite of the emotive character of Nail's voice, his face remained expressionless. 'I can tell you've made up your mind about me already,' Piccolo said, 'and you're clearly stronger than me. So do what you're going to do and be done with it.'
'Hmmph. I have made my mind about you. I want to kill you.' Nail's hand, wreathed in snapping yellow ki, hung a few inches from Piccolo's face. The green color of their skins was suffused by a pulsing yellow glow. 'I should kill you.'
For a moment, there was nothing between them except Nail's ki-laced hand- but with the same inexpressive face, Nail let the light disperse from his hand and closed it. 'But with what faces us, my own desires are not important,' he said, glowering, while he still held Piccolo by the collar of his gi with his other hand. 'I do not care about what I want or what should be done. I care about what I need. You understand that?'
Piccolo's gaze jumped to Nail's now-empty hand, then back to his face. 'I do.'
'Good.' Nail released his grip on Piccolo's gi. With a doomp, Piccolo smacked down to the ground. 'Then I'll offer you a deal,' Nail intoned as he stood and his arms dropped back to his sides. 'Do what was promised of you. Fight to defend the Namekians. Even if you don't see them as your own people.'
An unpleasant look crossed Piccolo's face. 'You've spoken at length about what you want or what should be done. So: you think I'll help you under either of those two motivations? I'm only looking out for myself.'
'Yes, that's true,' Nail said, and Piccolo suppressed whatever insane urge inside him wanted him to dispute proven fact. I came here for answers- my own answers. No one else's. 'But serving yourself requires that the Namekians survive the invasion of this planet.'
'Yeah? How so?'
'You're looking for answers among my kin, aren't you?'
Piccolo's mouth drew into a thin line. 'How do you know about that?'
'I don't, actually. I just know as much as I need to to prevent you from throwing your life away.'
'I don't take deals under duress,' Piccolo spat, glaring up at Nail. 'And I don't need anything from the likes of you.'
Nail, without any warning, extended a hand down towards Piccolo. 'But you need a deal that saves your life.' His eyes were focused on Piccolo's. 'Or was I wrong about you? Protect the Namekians, and not only will you live to annoy someone else another day, but you'll also be able to ask my people anything. That's the best deal you're going to get.'
'Damn you,' Piccolo growled. Roughly, he accepted the hand and let Nail help him to his feet. 'Damn you and your entire race.'
'I'm sure you would if given the chance,' Nail intimated while turning to look out over the horizon. In the distance, the black circle of soldiers surrounding the spire looked thinner than before. 'But you hate everyone out there more than you hate us, right? Otherwise, you would have bypassed the group of soldiers sent after you earlier.'
Piccolo grunted. 'Is there anything that happens on this planet that you don't know about?'
To this, Nail half-smiled. 'Like I said, I know as much as I need to plan out the day.'
'And what is that, specifically?' Piccolo demanded. 'Your plan, that is.'
Nail pointed to where the circle of soldiers was at its thickest. 'Other than protecting this spire, you need to defeat their leader. I've killed his officers before, and in every case, the grunts working under them lost the will to fight and tried to run away. I'm confident that if you cut off this army's head, it'll collapse into chaos.' Nail glanced at Piccolo. 'It is a winnable fight. I have a rough idea of how you and their leader compare in strength. You have a good chance of beating him if you fight smart.'
Piccolo's cape, fluttering in the wind behind him, curled up and dropped to the ground. Piccolo threw his headwear atop of it, revealing his brilliant, dark purple gi and the blue obi wrapped around his waist. That was definitely a perk about being brought back to life- you got the clothes you last had on back. 'You haven't mentioned what you'll be doing.'
'I'm not sticking around here,' Nail replied. 'Someone needs to rescue our mutual allies.'
Piccolo's eyes lit up. 'The humans?' he questioned. 'Where's the gain in that? They're weaker than us, and in the time it takes for you to rescue them-'
'I'll be quick,' Nail said, brushing off Piccolo's concerns. 'And strength isn't everything in a battle. You know that. But you'll do as I said?'
Piccolo turned to Nail. Something sharp and knowing glinted in the Namekian's eyes, and was made all the stranger by his unflinching neutral expression. Nothing prevented Piccolo from reneging on the deal once Nail was gone. But, frankly, that didn't feel like an option to Piccolo, nor could he think of a good reason to do it. The Namekians, for all intents and purposes, seemed willing to talk with him. If they knew about whatever intent he had in coming here, and yet had accepted him as an ally anyway, then he had no worries about them betraying him at a later point. They recognized him, in a way.
'Go on, then, ' Piccolo said, turning away and walking to the cliff's edge. 'Go make yourself useful. I'll be here.'
'Until I'm back,' Nail said, flaring his ki and summoning a white aura around him, 'I hope.' Then, he blasted off from the spire and sailed high above the circle of soldiers. Piccolo watched him go and, after he passed out of sight, set his focus on the thick black line flowing in the distance. He swung his chin up, leaned his weight forward, and blasted off.
0o0o0
With Guldo to his right and Recoome to his left, Ginyu coasted through the sky. He was thankful that he had commanded Burter to go on ahead- Guldo was crawling through the sky next to him, which forced himself and Recoome to slow down to maintain their group's uniform speed. The little green alien was wobbling, out-of-breath, and sweaty from flying only a few miles short of a hundred. I'll have to drill Guldo a bit more on his physical capabilities when we get back to base. He's definitely been slacking as of late. There's not a chance in the galaxy that he would have passed my rigorous inspection if he applied for the Force today. I'll have to hound him, wake-up and drag him to training every day… hmm… Jeice may be better suited for this task-
Beep beep beep. A reading shot up on Ginyu's visor. '35,000?' He read aloud.
'What's that, boss?' Recoome asked, swinging his massive, boxish head towards him. 'You just say 35k?'
'I did,' Ginyu replied. 'My scouter just picked up on a reading that's moving away from our destination, fast. Not one of our own, either. Must be the one Zarbon pointed out to us- the one who's been throwing a wrench in his plans.'
Wheezing, Guldo coughed. 'Are… they…. going to… intercept us?'
'No,' Ginyu answered, shaking his head. 'We'll miss them by a bit, though…'
Recoome rolled his head side-to-side, cracking his neck in the process. 'Sounds like you're thinking, boss.'
'Our primary reason for being here is to deal with this... thorn in Zarbon's side,' Ginyu said after a few seconds of silence. 'It would not reflect well upon the Force if we did not act immediately and effectively when prompted. So… Recoome, I want you to fly out and intercept this person. A power level of 35,000 is strong, but nothing compared to yours. Kill whoever owns that power level once you've had your fill of them.'
'Will do, boss. 35,000…' Recoome repeated, grinning. 'That'll be fun to take on. Maybe, if I'm lucky, they'll even be a bit stronger than that.'
'One can hope.'
Recoome saluted, and silhouetted by his pink ki, he swung further to their left and flew off. Ginyu found himself envious of how fast Recoome sped away.
'...You don't want me to carry you, do you?' he eventually asked of Guldo.
'I… wouldn't even… consider it!' Guldo panted back.
0o0o0
Stumbling, Bez pulled himself to his feet and stumbled to his right, narrowly avoiding a knee aimed at his gut. Cui, however, hadn't foreseen their opponent making such a move, and lacking the energy to catch themself, shot past their mark and smacked down face-first to the ground. A groan skitted across the tips of the blue grass blades, and with every part of his body aching, Bez forced himself to turn to it.
'You're… hard to put down,' Cui rumbled while they laboriously got to their feet. 'My scouter… it read you before! 12,000!' Cui shouted, spraying spittle from their mouth. 'I have a power level of 18,000! I am one of the PTO's super elites!' Cui charged again, and throwing himself out of the way at the last second, Bez painfully flopped onto the ground at the same time as Cui. They both hissed and squirmed from the dull aches spreading up and down their backs. Bez yelped especially hard when he rebounded off of his dislocated right shoulder. But Bez gritted his teeth and soldiered on
'You're nowhere close to a strength of 18,000, considering how beat up you are,' Bez muttered as he rolled onto his side. Five feet away, Cui was facing him and in a similar position. His purple enemy, who was a few shades darker than himself, trembled, and was splattered with scratches, bruises, and burns. Not much was left of their black jumpsuit for the top half of their body, and even less was left of their armor. 'Even though I may be injured… I figure I have a good chance of killing you.'
'Yeah?' Cui huffed, shifting onto their knees. 'How'd you judge that? I don't see a scouter on your head.'
'I can- err-'
'Yeah?' Cui said again, taunting Bez. 'You can what?'
Bez, as if pulling the shades closed over a window, strung his mouth farther across and deeper into his face. He was going to say that he sensed himself as compared to Cui- but that was insane. He didn't have a scouter. Nothing sensical suggested that Cui's power had decreased enough compared to his own that he could beat them in a fight.
And yet Bez felt, clear as this planet's neverending day, an evenness between whatever he felt about himself, and whatever he felt about Cui, and even then, there was something distinct about these two feelings. They were equal, yet different.
I've lost my mind.
'That's right,' Cui snarled, dragging themself to their feet. 'Clam up. Be scared. You're dirt. Dirt between my toes! Dirt getting in my clothes! I hate dirt! I hate it!' Bruised enough to look yellow, Cui raised a hand to their right and fired off a beam of ki. It was thin and sputtering, and broke across the ground like a splash of water. He did manage to eviscerate some grass, however. 'Raagh!' Cui fumed. 'Dirt! I hate this planet!' They whipped their head back to Bez, who by this point had managed to stand. 'I hate dirt!'
Bez's face was a mixture of concern, disgust, and genuine shock. They've lost their mind, too.
Yelling, Cui ran at Bez; shifting, he fell to one knee, slapped his left hand to the ground and pivoted. Cui yelped as Bez's legs slammed into their back, toppling them forward, but the PTO soldier danced to keep themself upright and plopped backward onto Bez's legs, pinning him. They devolved into a gyrating, violent mess, where neither one could free their body of the other.
A fist cracked across Bez's face. He took a moment to register the dull, thudding pain, and focused his hazy vision on the person kneeling atop of him. From this close up, he could see a thick, deep gash running from Cui's left ear hole all the way down to their bottom lip. It faded back and forth, like a flag wavering in the wind, and Bez thought of his home.
'I'm going to kill you.'
Another fist destined for his face hit another target; at the last second, Bez bucked, and swung his right shoulder into the path of Cui's strike. The blow slammed into his body, but no amount of shooting, sweat-inducing pain would have prevented him from hearing a loud pop.
Cui's eyelids swung down and up and down again. 'What? What did you?-'
Bez's right fist uppercut Cui on the jaw, interrupting them, and after a brief struggle, Bez threw himself on top of Cui and sat back on their legs, in the process trapping their arms beneath their body. Then, in repayment, Bez pounded Cui in the face as they had done to him, whiplashing the alien's head to the right.
'Get-' Cui struggled to say. Their gaze was scattered. 'Get-'
Bez struck Cui's torso, forcing the air of the alien's lungs and silencing them. He slammed another blow, then another, down onto the center of Cui's chest. The PTO soldier, helpless without a limb to defend themself, garbled and wheezed, but could ultimately do nothing as fist after fist smashed into their chest. Bez felt bones buckle then break, and sensed that the chest was shrinking to a deadly degree, but none of this was conscious to his fists, which were bloodied and bruised but rammed down regardless. He felt his mind drift away; from above, he found himself watching his body, operating its hands like tools, smash repeatedly against Cui's chest. Whatever resistance Cui tried to offer soon dried up, and any signs of life left soon after, but these events didn't slow the pace of Bez's assault. His body fought just as hard against a corpse as it had a living person. It was violent. It was also art.
When he was done, and nothing recognizable remained of Cui's torso, Bez rolled off of Cui's legs and fell backward to the ground. For a long time he laid there, panting, and kept his mind as far away from where he was as possible.
0o0o0
When pointed out to Piccolo, the army's leader was laughably easy to find. Among the small crowd of soldiers gathered below him, one person stood apart, though not because of anything this person did- his soldiers were running away from him. Perhaps I've given these fools too little credit.
'You look lonely,' Piccolo commented as he landed opposite of Zarbon, casting looks to the soldiers receding from them. 'Or is that disappointment smeared all over your face?'
Zarbon did a similar survey of their surroundings. 'They're following my orders as instructed,' Zarbon replied, centering his gaze on Piccolo. 'What may look like disloyalty is deference.'
'Yeah? So you're the one calling the shots, huh?' Piccolo scrutinized Zarbon; he was the strongest of everyone he sensed among the soldiers. He was lithe, nimble-looking, and had the cool grace he would expect from a leader. His power was still pitiful compared to his own, however. 'Is depriving yourself of your troops good strategy?'
'The extent of your power is apparent to me,' Zarbon disclosed, tapping a finger to the scouter resting over his left eye. '20,000. And I would assume you have a bit more available to you beyond that.'
'Your point is?'
Zarbon flouted a knowing smile. 'My men would only get in our way. Caught up in forces too strong for them to contend with. I'd rather save lives that would be wasted otherwise.'
'You'd do well by getting out of this fight yourself, then,' Piccolo mocked, as he dug in his feet and bent lower to the ground. 'Otherwise… well, you said it yourself.'
'I'm going to end you in one fell swoop,' Zarbon uttered while raising his arms. His aura spiked, and in a moment, his width and musculature doubled. Flat and snub-nosed, his face became a cruel mockery of the serenity that had previously dominated it. Piccolo restrained himself from reacting- Zarbon's power had jumped by more than a third.
Piccolo grunted. 'You-'
'TOO SLOW!' Zarbon roared, appearing behind Piccolo and diagonally punting him into the air. Igniting his blue aura, Zarbon sped after his opponent and rammed a number of heavy, thick punches into Piccolo's back. Another burst of energy and Zarbon intercepted Piccolo's body at a forty-five-degree angle, spun, and smashed a kick into Piccolo's torso, rocketing him away and crashing him into the spire near its base. Though there was an accompanying boom that rode across the land, the spire didn't shake at all.
Odd… Zarbon thought, as he flew over to the cloud of dust and debris rising away from the point of impact. No natural formation should be sturdy enough to receive that much kinetic energy and continue standing.
A wave of wind broke over Zarbon, pushing the detritus over and past him like a splash of water. Between his arms, he glimpsed Piccolo, looking scuffed but otherwise unharmed, glaring down on him with a cold, rigid stare. Zarbon also noticed that there was no crater in the spire behind Piccolo.
'That spire,' Zarbon said, looking past Piccolo, 'what protects it?'
'If I actually knew that, why would I share that with you?' Piccolo retorted, his canine fangs dipping in and out of sight.
'Oh, I can think of a few good reasons,' Zarbon suggested, flaring his snub-nose. 'Not least that I can give a pretty good guess from what I already know. You'd just be… filling in the gaps.' In a gesture of trust, Zarbon lowered his guard. 'I already have most of what I want from this planet. What is left to get can be obtained with a simple conversation. And you seem leaps and bounds more reasonable than the other one I've fought against.'
Piccolo's antennae twitched. 'That so? How'd you come to that conclusion?'
'You sought me out,' Zarbon noted. 'You didn't carve through my soldiers; you passed over them.'
For a few heartbeats, Piccolo did nothing, content with examining Zarbon's open posture. His antennae continued to twitch.
Zarbon dabbed at his sweaty neck. 'Come, now; it's clear that we both respect each other-'
Out of nowhere, Piccolo twisted to his right, threw his head over his shoulder, and lasered out two beams from his eyes. They raced through the air and shot through a yellow and bulbous PTO soldier creeping up the spire, spraying blood and knocking his corpse out of the air. When Piccolo swung his head back to Zarbon, his face was flushed with fury.
'You thought you could trick me?' Piccolo snarled, whipping the air into a frenzy with his ki. 'Me, the Demon King's heir?!'
A reading of 30,000 flashed on Zarbon's scouter. Zarbon, grinning despite himself, lifted his arms and steadied his guard. 'That was a mistake. You should have let that man go. He would have saved us both a lot of time.'
'You mean he would have saved you a lot of time.'
Shrugging, Zarbon settled into his airborne pose a bit more and called on his ki. Like before, his blue outline surrounded him. 'You made things difficult on yourself. What you choose to do won't affect the outcome of today; at some point, you will be dead at someone's feet, and I'll have secured every person, item, and bit of information I need from this miserable planet.'
Piccolo's outline, burnished with white ki, flickered and waved like a candle in the wind. 'I believe I'll kill you before the end of today,' he said.
'I've heard that before. Perhaps you'll be the last person to make that claim,' Zarbon taunted.
They squared off for a few seconds after that- then charged at each other, fists held back, and slammed blow-to-blow, aura-to-aura, strong enough to flatten most of the nearby PTO army.
0o0o0
The hall shook hard enough to throw a few people off their feet- if it weren't for the fact that Dende and most of the other Namekians children were already packed together into one frightened clump, they would have toppled over like most of the untethered adults. For Bulma, it would have been funny to watch grown people flop onto their backs and butts under different circumstances. But as it was, she didn't even budge from the shake; her fingers pressed against the wall and floor of the hall like tree roots growing up against concrete sidewalks.
Everyone within the hall- herself included- smelled of helplessness. Since leaving Earth, Bulma knew she was the most vulnerable out of her three-person group. Tien and Yamcha had proved that they could get beat up and knocked down and still get up after. In contrast, the worst Bulma had had to endure was adjusting to a planet's gravity that was three times stronger than Earth's. She knew that she wasn't a warrior- she knew that Tien and Yamcha would face things she would never have to. But she had found a way to be useful in other ways, in the past, ever since she stumbled across Krillin in that sad patch of woods.
Bulma's gaze turned to the hall's entrance. I should have parked the shuttle near here. I should have taken everything I could have gotten my hands on from FP083 and brought it with me. I could… well, I should have done more. With Yamcha and Tien captured, and Piccolo defending us… I should have done more.
For now, she was as stranded and powerless as forty other Namekians.
After another long stretch where the entire hall quaked, Bulma looked over to Moori. The elder was in a similar huddled position to her own against the wall opposite of her. 'The ground isn't going to fall out from under us, right?'
'The spire will hold,' Moori assured her. 'My people have lived on Namek long enough to imbue it with certain protections. In many ways, the planet is bound to us as we are bound to it.'
'And that's why we're sitting around, dithering, waiting for something or someone to act on us?'
Moori's eyes jumped to her, then settled on a spot in the center of the room halfway between them. 'I sense that you're upset.'
'Any living being should be able to pick up on that,' Bulma bit back. 'You told me that my friends are captured- do you expect me to be happy?'
'No,' Moori muttered, 'I suppose not.'
Bulma stared at Moori. 'We should have used the dragonballs to get everyone off this planet when we had the chance. Take everyone to Earth, or a planet just as good as this one, or anywhere else where there isn't an invasion force bearing down on us! That way, maybe Tien and Yamcha wouldn't have been captured, likely to be shipped off to Kami-knows-where in space, beaten, tortured-'
'You know what you are saying is unfair,' Moori interrupted without looking up at her. His voice sounded brittle. 'We did not force your friends to fight for us. You and your friends chose to stay here after we granted your wish. You all agreed that it was the fair thing to do.' Moori paused. 'They knew what they were getting into. They knew the risks.'
Bulma took a breath, then ripped her gaze from him. 'I wish they hadn't. I wish… I have a lot of wishes, now…'
'Look at me, Bulma.'
She turned to him. Moori, through a face that numbered the oldest among his kin, gazed at her. Beneath his somber demeanor… there was something churning in his eyes. 'If you were forced to leave your home, would you do so without a fight?' Moori asked her.
As he searched for something common, not divisive, Bulma felt her anger warp into shame. 'I would fight,' she admitted.
Moori gestured with his arm to the mass of Namekians around them. 'As would every person you see in here, if given the chance. Our people have lived here for centuries… and they are stubborn. This planet means much to me, but it means even more to them. Your friends- Tien and Yamcha- prevented me from making one of two heart-wrenching decisions; I was not forced to abandon our home or send out more of my people to fight for it. They offered us their strength to give us more time on this planet… even if we are ultimately forced to leave it.' Moori laid his hands horizontal across his abdomen and, in what Bulma interpreted as a sign of thanks, he dipped his head. 'For this, I am eternally grateful for you three.'
Tearing, Bulma tried to hold his gaze until she was forced to look away. She wanted to think of anything but the moral confusion ringing in her head. 'Will Nail return soon?' She asked of Moori while rubbing her wet cheeks.
He closed his eyes. 'Soon enough,' Moori replied in a distant voice, 'he will return… hopefully with your friends in tow.'
'And Piccolo?'
'I sense that he is holding his own,' Moori said without opening his eyes. 'Perhaps even doing better than that.'
'I'm sure the Earth will have their dragonballs gathered soon,' Bulma asserted. 'I-'
Another shockwave, much worse than the previous few, rocked the hall. Moori's eyes sprung open as he was bucked a handful of feet into the air. Like a juggled piece of produce, he flipped in the air and smacked down to the ground along with forty other Namekians.
'Ooo…' Moori moaned, as he pushed his torso off of the ground. 'Thank Guru for the elders and the magic that pervades this place... ' He made sure nothing of his was broken before looking across the room. 'Bulma, are you alright?' he asked, glancing over to where he had last seen her.
Her spot against the wall was empty. Moori scanned behind him, and saw that she wasn't among the Namekians. Furrowing his brow, he swung his attention towards the hall's entrance.
A blue PTO soldier, as incongruent as any person had ever been within Guru's hall, stood in the doorway with their sun at his back. Bulma, unmoving, was held under the soldier's left arm.
Burter gave a wave. 'Bye,' he said, and vanished.
0o0o0
Zarbon's fist cracked against Piccolo's block, but to Zarbon's shock, Piccolo didn't travel with the blow- his brown footwear didn't even make a mark in the grass.
Loathing kept his fist pressed against Piccolo's block. 'Why!... You!...' Zarbon said through grinding teeth.
Piccolo's face popped out to Zarbon through the cracks of his block. 'You're the best this army has to offer?' Piccolo huffed- it was clear that holding his position was requiring some serious exertion on his part. 'You're… an elite?'
'I am more than a mere elite! I am the right-hand man of the most powerful person in the galaxy!'
'He must not train you.'
'RAAAGH!' Zarbon bellowed, skinning his fist up across Piccolo's block and launching forward a knee strike. Nimbly, Piccolo flattened his body to one side and dodged it, and whipped his fist across the right side of Zarbon's flat, animal-like face. Zarbon stumbled back a few steps, planted one of his gigantic legs into the dirt and stopped himself, and wiped his hand across the newly made mark on his cheek. Dark blue blood smeared across his glove. A reading of 33,000 blinked on his scouter.
They were both covered in superficial scuffs, bruises, and cuts- but the gash on Zarbon's face was the first real blood shed of the day. The first real damage.
'You… you…' Zarbon growled, curling his hand into a fist. 'You…'
'Please,' Piccolo said, before shooting out two eye beams and lancing through the chest of another PTO soldier that was trying to sneak up the spire. 'Take as long as you need.'
'Your strength... you're stronger than me!'
Piccolo snorted. 'And?' His outline faded to the right, and Zarbon hopped back, dodging a leg kick aimed at sweeping him off his feet. Piccolo grunted and surged forward, slamming an elbow into Zarbon's hastily raised hands before shifting and pressing his feet against Zarbon's chest and using him as a springboard. As he launched himself and sailed through the air, he disappeared from Zarbon's sight.
Muscles rippling, Zarbon twisted his meaty neck back and forth. Where? Where!?
'Shouldn't you know there's more to a fight than raw power?' Piccolo whispered into Zarbon's ear.
'HYAA!' Zarbon spun, swinging his massive arm through a Piccolo that wasn't there. A second later, a blow smashed into his back, slamming through his armor there, and smacked him face-first to the ground.
Fist outstretched, Piccolo lowered his arm. 'Apparently not,' he panted. He wasn't trying to lose this fight by giving advice- which, even now, was pushing him to the limits- but he couldn't help but give some tips to such a lamentable opponent. What kind of fighter points at his opponent and says, "Hey! You're stronger than me!"
Before him, Zarbon's fists and legs dug into the ground. He was slow to get up.
The privilege this person must have had. He must have never fought someone stronger than him. His strength is untested… unwon. Ungrateful whelp.
Zarbon propped himself up on one knee, then pushed himself up. His eyes, which were filled with disbelief and indignation just moments prior, were now empty. 'I think I owe you an apology,' he said, trying to make the distorted, deeper voice of his current form sound as refined as possible. 'I lost my temper for a second there.'
Piccolo smirked. 'No amount- GYAAK!'
Zarbon's head smashed into Piccolo's, flinging it back in a ring of blood. Seizing the initiative, Zarbon clamped his arms around Piccolo's wrists, yanked him to a stop, and headbutted Piccolo again, and again, even as the skin on his face began to pucker and welt. Visceral pain ripped through them as their skulls brutally slammed against each other. There was no thought to this strategy- no consideration of whether slamming his head against Piccolo's was the smart thing to do. Zarbon felt and saw red; the only thing coursing through his mind was the repetitive thud of his skull bending and the haptic reverberations coming from his victim.
It was after Zarbon- with one last terrible strike- head-slammed Piccolo out of his grip and off his feet did he realize he was using one of his strengths in battle. His opponent may have a higher power level than him, but in an enclosed space, Zarbon's thick, brawny build won out.
I… ooo… Wincing, Zarbon tried to steady himself, then staggered backward. He couldn't feel the top half of his face. Moist lines ran down past his nose and mouth to his neck. I'm… hurt? I hurt myself... Wiping the blood clear of his vision, Zarbon peered down at Piccolo. He didn't stir, the Namekian's face, gnashed, dented, and colored purple by his blood, looked like that of a dead man's.
Pink blood swarmed Zarbon's vision again. With a snarl, Zarbon wiped his vision clear again. 'Wretch!' he spat, casting his vision back to his opponent.
Piccolo was gone. What!? Zarbon spun; as soon as he did, knuckles rammed into his face and knocked him back. A storm of blows connected against his arms, torso, and leg, while he tried to block them to mixed results. He heard chips of his armor crack and fly off of him, resonating with the steady thrum of contact vibrating out from his arms and legs like ringing metal.
His vision became clouded yet again; his spirited defense became just that, as he could no longer see where his assailant was aiming his attacks towards next. A brutal onslaught descended on Zarbon, driving holes in his armor and pushing his feet deeper into the dirt. Finally, with every bone in his body hurting, Zarbon guessed right, and with his arms raised in a cross-block, tanked a heavy strike aimed at his chest. I've got it! I've… wait!
The pressure on his arms failed to level-off; a searing sensation started to sweep over his body. To Zarbon's horror, he realized that he was blocking a ki attack. No… Zarbon tried to move from his spot, but the force on him was too great- he was fixed to this spot unless he wanted to topple over and be hit by the attack undefended. Groaning, he started to drag his ki to his arms, forming a barrier with his aura that began to nudge the attack back.
'You blinded yourself with your own attack,' a voice spoke to him from behind. Alarmed, even though Zarbon couldn't see, he swung his head over his shoulder to his right. Doing so exposed his face to the brunt of the ki attack- the blood pooling over his eyes vaporized from the heat.
Piccolo, injured but conscious, grimaced at him. His ruined face, though still bloodied, was no longer bludgeoned and distorted from Zarbon's earlier attack. How!? Zarbon tried in vain to squint- but that only clouded his vision with blood once again. Through the blurry haze, Zarbon could make out a ball of ki held within Piccolo's hands; yellow tendrils snaked and curled around them like slow-moving lightning. 'And I'm supposed to believe you're a fighter?'
Zarbon heard nothing more; his vision cleared one last time as Piccolo's blast rushed towards him and exploded.
0o0o0
The last exchange between his commander and the native exploded the scouter of every soldier around Appule; his scouter, which was made for and distributed to Frieza's elites, had a higher maximum reading it could detect before doing the same. This fact didn't comfort Appule, though- already, he could feet the device warming the left side of his face.
'Quite a show, huh?'
Appule cocked his head to his right- and nearly jumped. A blue soldier twice as tall as him was watching the cataclysmic battle as casually as someone watching a sunrise. Somehow, with his arms crossed, he looked familiar. 'You think this is a show?' Appule asked, baffled.
'You don't?'
'No!' Appule shouted, pumping his fists up and down. 'As soon as Zarbon is done getting pulverized, we're next!'
Burter paid his little outburst no mind- he didn't even look at him. 'So that is Zarbon out there, huh? Well then-'
A wave of wind sprang out from the blue soldier's feet, nearly pushing Appule off his feet. 'I better get to it.'
The blue soldier sprung away, faster than Appule could see, and this time, floored by the wind's force and thrown into a heap, it clicked in Appule's head. Was that… Burter?...
0o0o0
The smoke cleared with a simple use of ki; Piccolo revealed Zarbon, armor more gone than not and battle-weary, shaking in a small crater. The battle would have been closer if his opponent had been more judicious in using his strength, but he was in no position to do so now; in addition to what he saw, Piccolo felt that his opponent's energy had dropped by a third.
'What's your name?' Piccolo asked as he slid back into his guard. Despite his worn outward appearance, ranging from the scuffs and cuts in his gi to the purple blood patterning his face and limbs, his movements betrayed his preserved underlying strength. 'Wouldn't be right if I killed you without knowing your name.'
Zarbon tried his best to put on an angry face. Faced with death, it was hard to find. 'You presumptuous brat!' Zarbon growled. The clenching of his jaw and face made blood run over his eyes again. He struggled to raise his now heavy right arm to clear his vision. 'I'll… Grr!...'
'You're losing the ability to speak,' Piccolo jeered. 'So you aren't a leader, either. Guess that makes you-'
PHOOM. A soundwave as heavy as they came swept over Zarbon, shaking him to his core. Blinking, he saw a reading flash on his scouter, then winced as it exploded.
0o0o0
Piccolo was standing on the ground a moment before; now, he was speeding through the air, peppered and steered by a number of small, precise blows that plunged in and out of his body. Pain far greater than what Zarbon had inflicted on him now raged within him- whoever was attacking him now was not only strong but skilled. They would-
A blow to his head silenced the thought; his senses scrambled, Piccolo barely understood what was happening as two arms wrapped around his chest and dragged him higher up into the sky.
Behind him, Burter was grinning like a kid. 'The Captain never lets me use this move in combat- but, lucky for you, the Captain ain't here!'
Piccolo's head throbbed, then his chest, as he felt his ribs crack, while Burter carried him higher and higher in into the air.
The spire's top flashed past the two. At that point, Burter released his grip on Piccolo and brought himself to a stop in an instant. Then, before Piccolo flew up past him, Burter surged forward, grabbed Piccolo's legs from above him, and gouged him into the rock of the spire's flat top. Through the chaos, Piccolo realized that this was where Nail had smashed him down earlier, albeit with much less force.
A small crater rippled out as Piccolo's body became entombed within the earth. 'Gaak-' Piccolo choked out. 'Gaa- GAAARGGH!' Piccolo's lungs nearly ruptured from his yell; two feet impaled him through his chest.
'Captain doesn't like brutal moves.' Burter twisted his feet in Piccolo's torso, much like twisting a knife, and jumped out to a chorus of flesh and blood shifting to his will. 'Says it's unbecoming of men of our renown. But like I said- the Captain ain't here.'
Piccolo, shaking, raised his arms, then lost his strength and let them plunk back. 'Y… You…who...' he managed, before tipping his head to the side and vomiting blood.
Burter, standing at Piccolo's side, waited a moment before bending down and cupping Piccolo by his jaw. He turned the head back to him, noted the dull look in his eyes, then let it return to its original position.
'Nice to meet you, too.' Moving his gaze from Piccolo, Burter examined the white, round building several feet away from him before flying off and down the spire.
0o0o0
Just as Appule successfully worked his way under one of Zarbon's arm in an effort to help him move, Burter landed in front of them. He gave the hobbling alien a thin smirk. 'Nice to see you again, Zarbon.'
'Commander,' Zarbon corrected him. He glanced towards the top of the spire. 'Is he dead?'
'I put a hole in his chest as large as both my feet,' Burter recounted with a mote of satisfaction. 'He's dead.'
Aching, Zarbon motioned for Appule to pull something out of his armor for him. 'I take it that your arrival here means the other two have been secured?' he asked of Burter after accepting a white fabric from Appule.
There was a glint of pride in Burter's eyes. 'Jeice is bringing them back to the command ship as we speak. Not to mention that I secured the third target while that pushover was cooking you alive.'
At that moment, due to his clouded vision, Zarbon couldn't see how Appule had reacted to Burter flagrant disregard, but he prayed that his second thought well of him still.
'Then we're pulling back,' Zarbon announced. 'Appule, tell the soldiers to move to their positions beyond the blast radius.'
Burter glanced back at the spire. 'Sure you don't want me to clean up right now? Shouldn't take me long to finish off whoever's left.'
'I have a destroyer parked in this planet's orbit for a reason,' Zarbon growled. 'I have a plan for a reason.' Zarbon pressed the white fabric to his eyes and soaked up the blood- the white square's color darkened into a dull blue. 'One prodigious blast centered on that damn, indestructible pillar is all we need.
With Appule's aid, Zarbon began to stagger forward.
'One blast, and we'll rid ourselves of this mess...'
A/N: So I just realized that I'm running a story at… 5 distinct places at the moment. Which is kinda insane. I apologize if the narrative pulse of this fic has become hard to follow over the last several chapters. I'm going to try and condense what's going on over the next few chapters. Also:
Power Levels:
Nail:?
Piccolo: 33,000
Bez: 12,000, weakened… less
Cui: 18,000, weakened… less
Zarbon: 23,000 untransformed, 32,000 transformed
Burter:?
Also! I've made a similar appeal to what I'm about to say in the past, but I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts:
What about this story do you like right now? What do you not like? What parts of the story did you think I handled or depicted well? What parts do you not think that for? Who's a character you've liked? Who's a character you've disliked? Tell me your thoughts!
AND ONE MORE THING: Does anyone remember if I ever described Zarbon's hair as turquoise? Because, if so… that's a continuity break, and I gotta change that in the previous chapters, lol.
AND ONE MORE LAST THING, I PROMISE: I decided this will be the last chapter of the Namek Arc. Going to move over to the Ginyu Arc starting next week. Makes sense considering 1) the length of this arc so far and 2) the probable length of the next arc, so, yeah. Next week: Ginyu Arc.
Reviews:
LWexe: They've gotten pretty good by this point… but, yeah, they weren't quite there yet.
OneofTen: Ohoho, Piccolo's still a ripe bastard. He killed himself out of spite and has continued to look out for number one (himself) since… for the most part.
Anonymous: Yeah! I like that little subversion. Wasn't thinking of that at the time I wrote it but I do enjoy how it played out.
Piccolo got along with Nail… well enough. I think Nail has a gruff, stern nature to him that Piccolo respects.
Ah, I've been waiting for someone to ask me this question! I've got some thoughts on power levels in group fights that I've been meaning to write down but haven't done so yet. So, with that in mind:
Let's see how fight #1 of Tien and Yamcha against Cui went, and let's see how fight #2 went. In fight #1, Tien and Yamcha did a decent amount of damage to Cui and received a significant amount of damage for their efforts. In fight #2, fully healed, Yamcha and Tien, with Bez's help, were able to nearly finish off a damaged Cui with a significant amount of effort… but, ultimately, not a significantly taxing amount. How'd this happen?
In fight #1, we know that Cui's power is 18,000, Tien's is 16,000, and Yamcha's is 15,000. In DBZ, fighters in group fights seem to be punished when their power isn't concentrated in one person- in other words, 5 people with a power level of 2,000 will more often than be defeated by a person with a power level of 5,000, even though the more numerous side has a total power level of 10,000. When this five-person group squares off against a 5,000 strong person, their cumulative power isn't something like 10,000, but something below or close to 5,000. That's because any individual fighter can't pull on their collective strength- they can only access their individual power level of 5,000.
There's math involved here that I won't enumerate, but the idea is that a person at a power level of 2,000 getting a boost of 1,000 is not as valuable as someone at a power level of 4,000 getting the same thing when facing off against someone with a power level of 5,000. A boost of 1,000 to someone at 4,000 increases their chances of winning a battle against someone with a power level of 5,000 than if they had a power level of 3,000 or 2,000. Thus, a boost of the same amount can have very different impacts depending on who it's given to.
When a group fights a single person, the total combat strength of the group is dependant on the strongest fighter in that group, the closeness in power the other fighters have to the stronger fighter, and the group's teamwork. While I can't offer a formula, the idea is that the difference in power between two fighters becomes exponentially more difficult to overcome the farther one fighter is from the other. So, for example, the bonus a fighter at a 2,000 power level gives to a fighter with a 3,000 power level in a group fight is higher when fighting against a person with a power level of 5,000 than against someone with a 6,000 one.
I subscribe to a rule I once read in the A/N of Bringer of Death that in any fight where both powers are within 10% of each other- so, a 9,000 fighting a 10,000, a 45,000 fighting a 50,000- either fighter can win depending on the skills, technique, and damage they use. In a fight beyond that 10% range, however, it becomes much, much harder to overcome the sheer energy disparity between the two fighters. There comes a point where no amount of technique of strategy will win you a fight against a stronger opponent, short of a miracle. Thus, factoring in their combined group strength, Tien and Yamcha are outmatched in the first fight, and we see the Tri-Beam and ditch.
When the second fight comes along, Tien, Yamcha, and Bez are all at full strength, while Cui is weaker from the first fight. I'm not sure where I'd peg Cui's power level here, but long story short, it's weaker than the group power level of Tien, Yamcha, and Bez at that moment. Couple that with some bad strategic moves and being sandwiched between two blasts, and he gets beat up pretty bad.
I'm not sure if any of that made sense, and if didn't, point out where or any questions you have, and I'll give my explanation another shot next chapter.
Titanfire999: Not quite a body swap between Nail and Piccolo with Nail as the base going on here. Would be a cool idea but I feel that Break Through The Limit already did that pretty well… except for… maybe… one or two things… hmm...
As for your second question, I can't really say much without giving away what I've got planned. But I will say that 1) Goku didn't get any zenkais on King Kai's planet, to my knowledge, and 2) Goku took half a year to get to King Kai's planet, while Krillin took only a few months due to him competing with Piccolo. So it's probable that Krillin + Piccolo had two or three fewer months to train than Goku. There are some other factors that impacted/ are impacting Krillin and Piccolo's progression rate that I've said piecemeal in earlier chapters, but if it becomes relevant again, I will bring it up. I will also say that Piccolo is as strong as he is here because he didn't have the Kaioken to work on and because he competed to get stronger with Krillin.
Guest: I'm sorry for the lateness! And thank you for the review! This was the one that made me get off my butt and write this chapter over the past few days!
And Piccolo is a really cool character! I'm a Piccolo stan!
