Thoughts

"Speech"

Disclaimer: DC and the Dragonball Franchise belong to their respective owners; I own nothing.

Chapter 1: Doom I

July 1st

Age 737 (1987)

Rao System, Wegthor

A strong gust of wind blew past Bardock's face, momentarily disheveling his midnight black hair as he tapped the white Scouter that was attached to his left ear. It shouldn't have been possible for a moon to have a breeze, but the Kryptonians had colonized and terraformed Whegthor eons ago, long before the Saiyans had unceremoniously arrived in the Rao System. Bardock's Scouter hummed to life, beeping incessantly as a multitude of numbers flashed on the screen over his left eye. The Scouter's screen was basically a large monocle but was rectangular in shape. The screens came in all manner of sizes and colors, and Bardock preferred his to be green, the same shade as the straps of his battle armor.

Every slave under Frieza's thumb, though the Frost Demon preferred to call them soldiers, wore battle armor. It was forged from an unknown material that was elastic but yet somehow still durable. Countless times the durability of battle armor had saved Bardock's life. Two years ago, almost on this exact date, Almaeracian forces had left him on the verge of death, and if not for his stout armor, he would have surely perished that day. But fortunately, he'd been able to crawl back to his spaceship and return to Vegetasei before losing too much blood.

In his adolescence, Bardock had worn standard-issue white battle armor with matching gloves and boots. But as he rose in age and rank, Bardock had opted for a more unique and colorful look. Navy blue armor covered his thorax and most of his torso, but a small section of his armor's midriff was emerald green with dividing horizontal lines. The long thigh guards that descended near his knees were the same color and fashion. Navy blue pants with red leg warmers and black and green boots completed the rest of his outfit.

The Scouter finally dulled to a silence, and Bardock evaluated the information with a grim look on his face. Erkol was far larger than expected. The city-state was the first of Krypton's lunar colonies and the most heavily populated as well. It was likely that survivors from other city-states had fled here, seeking refuge behind Erkol's infamous dome. Rumors said that Erkol's protective dome was as formidable as Argo's, but Bardock had never laid eyes on the famed city, and rumors were often the furthest thing from the truth.

As Bardock stood on a cliff, a thousand paces away from Erkol, he had to admit that the city's gigantic dome looked daunting. The dome stretched as high as his eyes could see and even beyond the scope of his scouter. Had there been any clouds in the sky, the dome would have towered above them easily. Inside the dome, a vibrant city was abuzz with life, completely unaware of the terror that would soon be knocking at its door.

Erkol stood out amongst the desolate landscape that surrounded it. The city-state was the only noteworthy thing for hundreds of miles. A gargantuan mountain range overlooked the glimmering colony, and the cliff that Bardock was perched on provided ample view of his target. Beneath the serrated rock was a vast decaying plain that was in desperate need of rainfall. Trees were withering, and the tall high grass of the plain was splotched with brown, but the city of Erkol was in stark contrast to its topography.

Kryptonian cities often made Saiyan ones look archaic and outdated, and Erkol was no different. Enormous buildings dotted the city's skyline, and each looked more massive than the last. A railway as blue as any ocean zagged up, down, and around the skyscrapers, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Bardock had always found Kryptonian architecture odd, but his place was on the battlefield, not in the board rooms crafting designs. There were numerous trees sprinkled throughout the city, and there even appeared to be a forest located near the west edge of the city's dome.

If his onyx eyes were true, and Bardock certainly hoped they were, that potentially meant animals were located there. Nearly all animals on Wegthor had been genetically modified by Kryptonian colonists, which is why they were scarcely seen in the wild. Any chance encounters Bardock had with animals on this moon always took place on the outskirts of cities. Kryptonians had engineered their animals to never roam too far from their borders, and that was unfortunate for their Saiyan invaders. Saiyans only got to taste meat once they had conquered a city, which usually meant days of waiting.

Bardock glanced down at his stomach and felt it tremble, growling in hunger. His food rations were almost depleted, and the few parcels of food that he did have weren't enough to satisfy a full-grown Saiyan man or woman. Fruits and vegetables could only satiate a Saiyan for so long; he needed real food! Kryptonian food was an abomination to his taste buds, which is why he stuck to eating meat that he hunted, but at this point, he was ready to swallow whatever Kryptonian slop was thrown in front of him.

Per his scouter's estimations, Erkol had roughly one million residents. On most planets or moons, Bardock would've loved those odds. Against most species, those numbers would've been a cakewalk for Bardock and his soon-to-be arriving team, but Kryptonians were dangerous; they were everything Saiyans were in reverse. What Kryptonians lacked in physical strength and raw ability, they made up for in cunning and intelligence. They put the Tuffles to shame and had so far managed to keep their civilization afloat after decades of war.

"I thought this party would already be started by the time I got here," A distinctly feminine voice said, growing louder and louder as its owner descended from the sky. A pair of white boots hit the ground with a soft thud and forced Bardock to turn around.

"Fasha," Bardock said, eyeing the woman with a smile as he strolled towards her. She was five foot four with a pale complexion, and the lack of consistent sunlight seemed to drain her color more and more each day. Her hair was flat with cropped spiky bangs that stopped just short of her purple eyes. Her battle armor was similar to Bardock's but was upheld by a singular yellow strap over her right shoulder. The magenta bodysuit underneath her armor could draw any man's eye, as well as her toned, slender legs.

"Where's everyone else?" Bardock intoned deeply. They had agreed to meet at this location, and so far, only Fasha had been faithful to their arrangement.

"They're running a bit late," Fasha said, watching Bardock's lips curl into a frown. "They had business to take care of back at camp."

Bardock tossed his head back and groaned. Knowing his crew and the rest of the Saiyans that had been assigned to his command for this mission, it was probably something stupid that had resulted in a fight.

"I hope no one important dies this time," Bardock mumbled to himself. Following the siege of Xan City, a scuffle had broken out at the Saiyan camp over whose power level had grown the most. A brawl between two hot-headed Saiyans turned into a riot that resulted in the death of five Saiyans, including one Elite Warrior. Bardock hated referring to them by that title, but the man's skill had been sorely missed during their next battle. If anyone died this time, he hoped it was Low-Class Warrior; the Saiyan army had those to spare.

Fasha shook her head, and the jingling of her gold earrings was enough to steer Bardock away from his thoughts. "If they die, they die. We don't need any weaklings disgracing us on the battlefield."

Her tone was frosty, even colder than the look on her face, but Fasha spoke nothing but the truth. Bardock craned his neck towards her and said, "We need all the meat shields we can get. One less Saiyan increases our odds for failure and death."

"It sounds like you're scared," Fasha said with a goading grin.

Bardock stepped closer to her, casting a shadow over her head as he stared down at her. "I fear nothing," He said calmly. It was a lie, but his facial expression didn't denote that. "I don't want you or anyone else to die like Gine did. You have a child now, Fasha and I –"

"I know I have a son, Bardock," Fasha replied, cutting him off. "He grew in my belly for months until I gave birth a few moon cycles ago; what about him?"

"You always wanted a son, and I want you to be around to see him grow into the warrior he's destined to be."

"Destined to be?" Fasha repeated with a raised brow. "With my genes and his father's genes, that kid will be lucky if he grows up to be a Mid-Class Warrior. Ever since our trip to Kanassa earlier this year, you've been acting strangely. Are you alright, Bardock?" [1]

Bardock dismissed the question with a handwave and grunted. "I'm fine," His well-being was the last thing on his mind. "If you think so lowly of Paragus, why did you breed with him?" It was a question that seemed to strike a nerve. Fasha rarely spoke about her child's father, and when she did…it wasn't glowingly.

Fasha puckered her lips and spat on the ground. "We were on a mission together, and I was in heat. Female hormones, ya know? It was just a fling, and what happens in Vega is supposed to stay in Vega, but I got pregnant." And what a tumultuous pregnancy it had been. Nine months of bickering and raucous arguments between her Paragus.

"You could've aborted the child and saved yourself the trouble," Bardock suggested. He'd nearly opted for that when Gine had gotten pregnant with Raditz. Fatherhood had been the last thing on his mind at that stage in his life.

"Hell no," Fasha said adamantly. "That was never an option for me. I was going to keep my child regardless of whatever issues me and Paragus were having. Things wouldn't have been so bad if Paragus hadn't tried to be so controlling. You would've thought he was King Vegeta the way he tried to order me around during my pregnancy."

Bardock had witnessed it first hand. If Paragus could've enforced his will, Fasha would've been chained to her bed on Vegetasei for the duration of her pregnancy. "He threatened me before we left for this mission on Wegthor. He vowed to kill me if anything happens to you."

Fasha slapped her knee as roaring laughter sputtered from her throat. "Paragus vowed to kill you?" She wiped a tear with her white-gloved hand. "He could train for centuries, and he'd still never be half the warrior you are."

"I know," Bardock crossed his arms over his chest. These days fewer and fewer Saiyans were capable of matching his might. "But I still don't intend to let you die."

"The Kryptonians may have something to say about that, brother."

Bardock glanced up and saw Turles and a host of other Saiyans descending from the sky.

"It took you long enough," Bardock grumbled as his brother and the rest of the Saiyan forces landed on the cliff behind Fasha. Bardock did a quick count, and excluding his crew, a dozen Saiyans were present, but that was a smaller battalion than he'd expected. One person was missing. Bardock brushed past Fasha and strode towards his brother, who was waiting for him with a grin on his face.

"What happened to Zukini?" The bloodstains on Turles armor quickly answered that question, but he still wanted to hear the explanation from the horse's mouth. Turles was the spitting image of their father and shared all his worst qualities. Like Bardock, his hair defied gravity and was peculiarly shaped, featuring multiple bangs and spikes that couldn't be tamed by any comb. They shared a heart-shaped jawline and other similar facial features, but unlike his brother, Turles didn't have a thick rough scar on his cheek. His battle armor was black and grey, and he wore matching wrist gauntlets.

"This is how you greet your brother, Bardock? Mother would be so disappointed in you," Turles said mockingly. The little patience that his elder brother had instantly evaporated. Bardock reached over and grabbed Turles by his shoulder pads, tugging him until the gap between their faces disappeared.

"I don't have time for your bullshit today! Answer the damn question!" Bardock looked his brother dead in his ebon eyes, and his grip was tighter than their bonds of kinship.

"Zukini owed me a debt that he paid with his life," Turles said nonchalantly. Bardock's breath tickled his face, and the heat of his words was literally felt. If any other Saiyan had dared to corral him like this, he would have slaughtered them, but Bardock was his older brother, so he would let the grievance slide…..this time.

Bardock turned his eye from his brother and surveyed the Saiyans, who were frozen in place. Their lips were silent, but their heads nodded in support of Turles claim. Even the members of his crew Tora, Shugesh, and Borgos, oddly shook their heads in agreement.

Bardock scowled and tossed Turles to the side, causing his brother to stumble slightly until he regained his footing. "If you harm any other members of this platoon, I'll kill you myself. I haven't forgotten what you did to Leek." And with those parting words, he walked back towards the edge of the cliff, where he stood with his thoughts until his crew approached him.

"With brothers like that, who needs enemies?" Tora chuckled as he placed a hand on Bardock's shoulder.

Bardock cast the tall Saiyan to his left a glance and snorted. "You've been more of a brother to me than he's ever been." Tora and Bardock had been inseparable since their first planetary conquest as children. His battle armor was black and glacier blue, befitting his calm and collected personality. He was six foot one but had the frame of an even taller man. He was a rarity amongst Saiyans, being one of the few who styled his bushy hair in a ponytail, and his skin was golden brown.

Shugesh's pudgy fingers gave Bardock's right shoulder a squeeze. "Why wait? We can just kill Turles now and get it over with." It was a proposal Bardock wasn't willing to hear. He turned around and gave the plump Saiyan a stern glare.

"We need Turles, at least for now."

"Whelp, I tried," Shugesh said with a heavy shrug. He was a short Saiyan who rarely missed a meal. Rolls of fat hid well-chiseled muscles, and at first glance, no one would've mistaken him for a fearsome warrior. His hair was the same hue as all Saiyans and had been sloppily cut into the shape of a bowl. His battle armor was black and teal.

"And as usual, Borgos has nothing to add," Fasha said with a bemused sigh.

The Saiyan in question turned to her and blinked before returning his gaze to Erkol. Borgos was a man of few words, but when he did speak, it was usually to say something profound. He was the tallest member of Bardock's crew and the most muscular too. His hair appeared to be balding, but it had strangely been that way since birth. His battle armor was black with a light blue stomach plate, and yellow shoulder straps.

"I'm dying of boredom; when are we going to start this conquest?" Turles shouted with hands cupped around his mouth. Several other Saiyans joined in pitching their complaints as they yelled as well, and just like that, Bardock's brief respite was over.

Bardock cursed under his breath and balled a fist. His younger sibling loved to provoke him. Fratricide was an ill thing, but Turles had more than earned it. Once Wegthor was conquered and securely under Frieza Force rule, he and his brother would have a long overdue duel. Bardock exhaled, suppressing his anger, and gathered himself before turning to face the rowdy crowd.

"Our attack begins now."

July 1st

Age 737 (1987)

Rao System, Wegthor, Erkol

"General Zod, I thank you for the visit, but your presence here is unnecessary." A hoarse voice slowly drawled out. It belonged to a man whose best days were long gone and far behind him. Grey wisps of hair sat on what was once a lush and plentiful scalp. Thick wrinkles adorned a speckled face that was devoid of warmth, and a pair of blood-flecked eyes bounced around impatiently, hoping that this conversation would end soon.

"I beg to differ; the Saiyans will attack soon. Multiple satellites have already spotted them in the nearby vicinity of this city," General Zod dug into his cloak's right pocket and pulled out a palm-sized blue spherical device. He placed it on the square, gold table that separated him and the elder statesman of Erkol's Science Council. "Councilor Durkin, I implore you to take a look."

General Zod's words were a request, but his tone sounded like a demand, and every wise Kryptonian obliged the general's requests. He was an intimidating man without effort. A smile rarely graced his chiseled face, and his cerulean eyes were cold and unexpressive. His dark hair and beard were trimmed short and were meticulously managed every day, not allowing even a single follicle to grow out of place. Maybe it was due to his genetic engineering, or perhaps it was due to the era he had been born in, but for whatever reason, Dru-Zod was an austere and uncompromising man.

The general of Krypton's grand army and the head of the Military Guild was dressed in plain modest clothing. Councilor Durkin had expected General Zod to barge into his office suited in full military garb, but Dru-Zod had subverted his expectations and arrived dressed like a commoner, which was an affront to the upper-caste he belonged to. He wore a long, dull olive-green cloak that left a trail wherever it went, dragging along the floor. It was utterly unremarkable, save for the House of Zod symbol, a curved horseshoe-like sigil that was engraved on the cloak's fabric.

Councilor Durkin glanced at the sphere and reclined into the soft fibers of his chair. He interlocked his fingers and expunged whatever previous plans he had for the day from his mind. Today was a festive occasion, and he should've been at home celebrating the anniversary of Erkol's founding with his family, but instead, he was in his office staring at General Zod, whose brows were knit together. He refrained from whining and gestured for General Zod to show him what he deemed so pressing.

With haste, General Zod pressed a button on the sphere, and a holographic image emerged, illuminating the dimly lit room in its azure glow. "There are nearly twenty Saiyans outside this city right now as we speak, and you know as well as I do that they've come here for one reason and one reason only; to conquer." General Zod's eyes settled on the councilor, and he looked totally disinterested.

Councilor Durkin's robes were as gaudy as his office. Everything was coated and drowned in gold. Everywhere you looked around the spacious room, there was another reminder of his astronomical wealth. General Zod had asked him to dim the lights in the room for his sake, less they burn from the sheer opulence of his quarters. Councilor Durkin belonged to House Vex, who were traditionally influential lawmakers, which explained why his tenor in Erkol's Science Council had endured for so long.

Councilor Durkin glanced up at the image and motioned for General Zod to shut it off, and he did. "I'm well aware of the war that's been going on. Erkol may be an isolated city-state, but news still reaches us like everyone else, and the flood of refugees that pour in daily is a constant reminder of the Saiyan menace."

"If you're aware of the present situation, why have you done nothing in preparation?" General Zod asked, perplexed. "Xan City fell to the Saiyans two weeks ago, and Surrus after that. These barbarians have already conquered our other moon, Koron, and Wegthor will be seized from our reigns in due time. If Erkol falls to the Saiyans, the remaining city-states on this moon are doomed!"

"Yes, the Saiyans pose a formidable threat; there's no denying that," Councilor Durkin said apathetically. "The refugees who have survived Saiyan massacres enter our city lined with scars, missing limbs, and despair in their hearts. They cry about the horrors Saiyans inflicted on their colonies and thank Rao for the safe embrace of Erkol."

General Zod's face sank into a frown as he listened. "And fully well knowing this, you've elected to do nothing to defend your city against the Saiyans?"

"Erkol needs no defending. Our city's dome is impenetrable. Centuries ago, when Kryptonian dissidents unleashed the clone of the Doomsday, even that monstrous creature couldn't penetrate our dome."

"But you know as well as I do that the clone of Doomsday only possessed a fraction of the original creature's power," General Zod rebutted. The original Doomsday went on a galactic rampage until the combined efforts of King Cold, The Green Lantern Corps, and the Kai's defeated him. Doomsday's clone had been bested in combat by a single space pirate, Bojack.

"But regardless, my point remains. Erkol's dome has stood the test of time, and no power the Saiyans possess can match Kryptonian engineering."

General Zod stroked his beard in silent frustration. Conversations with Science Council members on Krypton or one of its colonies always went like this. They were so assured of themselves and the genetic engineering that had shaped their species. For millennia, Kryptonian citizens had been genetically engineered to make them the greatest example of their kind. Kryptonian scientists and engineers were designed to be the best, so how could any of their creations fail? It was unthinkable in the minds of the Science Council, but the ruins of destroyed city-states were filled with dead men, women, and children who had thought the same.

"Your faith in our science is admirable and exemplary, Councilor Durkin," General Zod was careful with his words. He knew he had to tread lightly; otherwise, his words would be considered seditious, and a trip to the Phantom Zone would be awaiting him once he returned to Krypton. "But faith also requires action. You need troops ready and armed to fight the Saiyans. It is an unlikely scenario, but if those monkeys were somehow able to breach the dome, this city would fall in minutes. I brought the Military Guild's most elite combat unit, The Black Zero, here to defend Erkol and prevent those events from happening. There are other plans I would like to carry out, but I need your permission, councilor."

"I could grant you permission for your plans, but – "

"But you just don't see the need," General Zod finished, and his deduction was correct. Councilor Durkin gave him a wobbly nod.

"You and your troops are more than welcome to remain in Erkol if it pleases you, but whatever plans you have won't come to fruition because they're simply unnecessary."

"Well, then, I thank you for your time, Councilor Durkin," General Zod rose from his seat, a towering figure of a muscle, and bowed politely before turning towards the metallic doors at the front of the councilor's office. His footsteps were loud, voicing the anger that he could not as he sauntered towards the entrance, his long olive cloak scraping the marble floor beneath him. He pushed through the doors and disappeared from the councilor's view, entering a bright hallway that had a dozen lights too many. He paused, squinting as he gave his eyes time to adjust to the sudden change.

"How did it go?"

General Zod whipped his head around to the sound of the voice, and he saw the faint outline of a familiar face, lieutenant Faora Hu-Ul. Zod closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, Faora was beside him, examining his face with her soft, warm hands. She was tall for a woman, and her black hair was short and fashioned into a pixie cut. She was beautifully pale, and her lack of color accentuated the sheen of her Jade eyes.

She wore black as night chain mail that rattled every time she moved. Thick bulky Kryptonian battle armor covered the chain mail, giving her the appearance of a more robust woman. The pieces of battle armor were segmented, unlike Frieza Force armor, and there was a myriad of pieces. Rerebraces, couters, and vambraces, amongst other things. The House of Ul symbol, a crooked scythe, was engraved on her breastplate.

"You look angry. Things didn't go well." She commented as Zod pulled away from her grasp and began walking down the hallway. He had her hand in tow as he marched down the long winding corridor that was filled with holographic reminders of Erkol's proud history.

"Where are you –"

General Zod pulled her close and silenced her with his finger over her mouth. He glanced around warily, scanning the vicinity until he was sure the coast was clear. There was no one in sight. "Keep your voice down." He whispered and slowly loosened his grip. "You don't know who could be listening."

Embarrassment swept over Faora, and she wrinkled her nose. "Of course, how stupid of me. How could I forget about the unwanted ears that surround us."

"It's no matter," General Zod said. "Just keep your voice down," he maintained his barely above a whisper.

"Councilor Durkin turned you down, didn't he?" Faora asked, knowing full well what her lover's response would be.

"Of course, he's just another impudent member of the Science Council. They're fools; the lot of them and their foolishness will damn us all if left unchecked. The Science Councils on Krypton and the colonies want Kryptonians to believe the war is going well, but each day we are losing more and more ground while they sit idly by, twiddling their thumbs like babes."

"They are a smear to Krypton's name, all of them, except Jor-El," Faora added. Jor-El was the only member of the Science Council who wasn't staunchly entrenched in his prejudices and was open to new ideas and viewpoints. But Jor-El was just a single young man against a tide of decrepit old crones.

"When we get back to Krypton, I must speak to him immediately. I fear our communications are being jammed, either by our hosts or the Saiyans. Every time I've attempted to reach out to Jor-El or anyone on Krypton for that matter, I've received nothing but static." General Zod furrowed his brow and stiffened his pace. The sooner he got off Wegthor, the better.

"We're withdrawing our troops?" Faora asked, sliding her feet to a halt. She stood near a window that overlooked the festivities taking place on the crowded streets of Erkol. "We can't leave these people undefended," she argued as she pointed to the mass of merry citizens who were celebrating as if Rao had descended from the stars.

"We're not withdrawing our troops," General Zod rebuffed. He peered out the window. "I don't give a damn what that councilor says. The Saiyans are capable of breaching this city's dome, and if they do, we will be here to save the citizens of Erkol."

"So then, why would you go back to Krypton?" Faora inquired, befuddled.

"For reinforcements. The Black Zero is our most capable squad of soldiers, but they are limited in number, and I only brought a few handfuls of them here with me. I had hoped the councilor would allow us to conscript some of Erkol's citizens, but that idea has been dashed. Non is evaluating the few troops Erkol does have, and I doubt they'll be of any use to us."

"At least we can use them as distractions on the battlefield," Faora sneered. She'd seen the pathetic throng of troops when they'd reported to Erkol's spaceport to greet General Zod upon his arrival. "You think you can make it to Krypton and back before the Saiyans attack?"

"I'm not sure, but I have to try, or else everything will be lost." General Zod sighed despondently. The citizens of Erkol deserved better from their leaders, and if they wouldn't step up to the task, he would. "I will leave now, and I aim to be back soon. Let's hope Councilor Durkin's faith in the dome isn't unwarranted."

"And what would you have me do while I wait for your return?"

"I want you to station our troops around the city and maintain business as usual. Regular training, meetings with the various upper-castes, and last but not least, stay out of the Council's eye. Councilor Durkin doesn't want his people to be informed of the truth, but it's their right to know. There are operatives of Midnight here. Spead the news of the Saiyan's ongoings, make them aware, and they'll do the rest."

Faora folded her arms together, displeased. She'd come to Erkol with the sole intent of fighting the Saiyans. Nothing less, nothing more. "You could assign Ursa or Mala to those tasks. I'm better served elsewhere, like on the battlefield. And why must I meet with operatives of Midnight? There are holo messages for that."

"You are my lieutenant, don't let our personal relationship blind you to that fact. When I give orders, you listen. I raised you to this position, and I can take it from you." General Zod punctuated his words by leaning down and grabbing Faora by her throat with both of his hands. Their eyes were inches apart as he glared into her soul, but Faora was unperturbed by his increasingly tight grip or the fury in his eyes; in fact, she loved it. She leaned forward and kissed him passionately, savoring the flavor of his tongue as it slipped into her mouth.

"I love when you get like that," She said lustfully as Zod broke the embrace, pushing her away. He licked the roof of his mouth and was about to say something when suddenly a loud alarm blared, interrupting him. The white lights of the hallway flickered to an ominous red as a deafening electronic voice issued out a warning.

"Section A of Erkol's dome has been breached. All citizens in the nearby vicinity are advised to seek cover immediately. Multiple Saiyans have been detected."

It was the voice of Brainiac, Erkol's supercomputer and A.I.

General Zod and Faora glanced at one another before turning their gaze back to the window. The crowd of Kryptonians was dispersing in every imaginable direction, and amidst all the chaos, several citizens got trampled. Zod and Faora were on the thirtieth floor of a building, but even this high up, their fellow countrymen's panicked cries and screams reached their ears. A pink blast of energy vaporized the skyscraper across the street from them, and an incalculable number of lives vanished in an instant. Several thunderous explosions followed, annihilating the rest of the city block until Zod and Faora's building stood teetering alone amongst the steaming rubble.

At any moment, the Saiyans would attack this building, and it would spell the end of Erkol's hopes for a counterattack. General Zod smashed the window with his fist, ignoring the blood that spewed from the cuts, and barked out an order to Faora. "You have to distract the Saiyans at least momentarily. I'll call Nam-Ek and tell him to bring my battle armor. These Saiyans will die today!"

A/N: I've been wanting to test the waters for a rewrite of Dragonball DC for a while now. I mentioned the idea a few weeks ago, and I've had a poll open on my profile for some time. 62% of the people who voted were in favor of a rewrite. I'm not abandoning Dragonball DC, but this idea has been on my mind for so long now, and I just had to finally write it.

[1]: This is a significant change from canon. I made Fasha Broly's mother so he can have a legitimate reason for hating Goku.