Frost lay face-first on the ground of the ship's training room. As Garlic Jr. had promised to him the day before, he had woken up early in the morning to board a restored junk trading ship. The vessel was a long, sturdy ship with many chambers, but slow and with spots of chipped paint still adornings its walls. There was an advantage to the trip's slow pace, at least for Frost: he had plenty of time to not only rest a little more, but also to begin training once again in order to recuperate his former strength. And that's exactly what he had been doing with Garlic Jr.'s burly black accomplice Sansho for the past 2 hours or so.
The brute himself was on the other side of the room. In spite of attempts to keep composure, for this was just a training scenario, he couldn't help but gloat at how he had reduced Frost to a bruised heap trembling and lying on the floor. "I know you're still out of shape, but geez." he said, stomping over to the crumpled-up Arcosian, his steel-toed boots clanking against the red metal floor of the former storage compartment. "I expected better from the former 'Crown Prince of Crime.' Oh, how the mighty have fallen…" Little did he know, however, that as he was lying on the ground, Frost was grinning. The simpleton is falling for it, he thought to himself, barely concealing a snicker at the thought of his next action. Sure enough, he was enveloped by the shadow of the hulking behemoth Sansho, who eagerly reached for his training partner's tail. Suddenly, the tail jutted out at high speed, doubling in size as it wrapped around Sansho's exposed neck. Desperately clawing at the tail, he failed to notice Frost, turning his still-smiling face towards him while pointing his taloned toes outward. Like a spring, his tail retracted, propelling Frost's body at Sansho's face to deliver a forceful kick with his outstretched leg. He then released his tail and fell to the floor, standing back up to see the brute reeling back, hands covering his face, a small bit of dark purple blood dripping and staining his fingers. Frost did not take this gesture of helplessness lightly. He wasted no time sprinting towards his prey. Like a lizard, he climbed up Sansho's armor, weaving out of the way of his desperate, pained punches, one of which struck and cracked his own chestplate, barely missing Frost's tail. Eventually, he climbed onto his back. While Sansho's hands reached back trying to scrape the slender, white-and-blue alien, the latter focused on his left arm. Out of either side of his wrist, a pair of cartilage tweezers protruded. Still donning that same expression of demented glee, Frost hopped off Sansho's back, but not before clasping the tweezers on the brute's ear and yanking down the ear to Frost's mouth. "Back in my days as a grunt, I used these babies to pull out teeth." the reptilian humanoid boasted, cocking back his right arm, wrapping his clawed hand into a fist. "Even after I mostly stopped getting my hands dirty, I still found other uses for them. I suppose we can add 'restraining the dull-minded' to that list." He recoiled his fist farther before socking it into Sansho's forehead, bloodying his face further as he fell down in a similar position to what Frost had been in but a minute ago.
"I think it's time we took a quick break." the Arcosian suggested, helping Sansho up to his feet. He quickly fetched some medicine for the pair's wounds from a nearby container as well as some refreshments from the cooler immediately above it. As they re-invigorated themselves with cans of Balsa juice, Frost wanted to continue training. But the minion's bizarre strength piqued his curiosity. Rather than continuing the training, he gestured his training partner to sit down for a talk.
"You know Sansho, you're shockingly strong." Frost began. "Over the course of my criminal career, I've seen some powerful minions and grunts, some who have even gone on to surpass and dethrone their masters." I would know because I was among them, Frost snarkily thought to himself as he was talking. "But you… you're something else. In terms of raw strength, you blow every grunt, and even some crime lords, out of the water. And to think a Namekian could do this…"
Sansho raised a hand and interrupted his comrade's diatribe. "Wait… you actually think I'm a Namekian?" he stifled laughter as he continued. "What, do you just judge the race of every person you see based on the shape of their ears? No, I'm not one of those guys. At least, not entirely." He paused again, this time adopting a pensive look.
"You ever heard of the Makyans, Frost?" this remark caught the crime lord's steadily waning attention back to him. "Makyans?" Frost said, "You mean the Namekian hybrid race? I thought that was just another one of their silly legends. Didn't it go something like 'blah blah cross-breeding is impure and evil blah blah Namekians should never cross their genes with other species blah blah it's the equivalent of selling one's soul to the devil'?" The tone at which Frost told this unflattering summary had a noticeable tinge of sarcasm to it, mocking such a backwards belief. It was this sarcasm that caused Sansho to slap his Balsa can on his criss-crossed legs in uncontrollable laughter. "You got it!" replied the brute. "And yup, we do exist. Garlic Jr. and I are the real deal, the genuine article!" Frost couldn't help but laugh at Sansho's enthusiasm. "You may not have the best reflexes," he began, "but you sure are easy to get around. When all this is over, my first priority will be to teach you the finesse and discipline you need to truly make good use of your brute strength." Sansho scratched the back of his head, smiling broadly and sincerely. By this point, Frost had totally forgotten about where this power that could challenge him had come; he just wanted to know more about the man who wielded it.
"So if Makyans such as yourself are real, why haven't I seen or heard from more of you?" At this question, Sansho's smile faded. He let out a loud sigh before beginning his speech. "Exile. You see, Garlic Jr.'s grandfather was kind of a revolutionary. He wasn't just a formidable warrior: He was also a brilliant scientist. While his son, Garlic Jr.'s father, was still being incubated, he injected the egg with the genes of a bunch of different species. Some of them weren't even from Universe 6! While the idea had existed in legend and scripture for a while, Garlic Sr. was the first recorded instance of a living, breathing Makyan, and by all accounts, he was superior to his peers. He was faster, stronger, brighter than all the other hatchlings, and had a host of new abilities thanks to his hybrid DNA, ranging from natural flight to being able to breathe in space."
Sansho looked side to side and to the door of the room before continuing his tale.
"They feared him, Frost. The Elders, many of the villagers, all of them feared him. No matter how much Grandpa Garlic tried to convince them, the Elders and their cult refused to let it stand."
Frost was beginning to notice Sansho's changing inflection. He had started out friendly and calm, as if he was reading a bedtime story, but now his voice was slowly descending into a guttural growl, each word being tipped more and more in sharp, impassioned rage.
"Now, not all of the villagers were as willing to jump to conclusions as the Elders were. A select few of them actively came to Grandpa Garlic's defense. We were still a minority, but our numbers grew to the point where civil war within the tribe was a legitimate possibility. And for as unwilling to see the light in this situation as they were, the Elders knew they could not do battle with us; they knew full and well they were outclassed. So they made a deal; Grandpa Garlic, Garlic Sr. and all of their followers would be assigned a planet they would move to; we later named it the Makyo Star. This arrangement was kept a secret within our tribe so as not to lead to possible interplanetary interference. Those old worms thought they could get away with one final act of deception, however; turns out our new domain was completely inhospitable for an average Namekian. Thanks to their utter lack of foresight, however, they didn't think to search Grandpa Garlic's old hut, and he was able to sneak aboard a case of DNA samples on the ship that carried us to the Makyo Star. And while the original defenders were unable to cope with the conditions and died out, their children and grandchildren, myself and Nicky included, were more than capable of making a living there with our new gifts."
"Back on Namek, the Elders realized their foolish mistake, and took great care to not talk about us. When Garlic Sr. was… …unfortunately slain, they claimed he was just another Namekian who had cast a spell to summon some demons. That's what they called us, Frost. Demons. After all, if it came out that the very people they had exiled for being superior came back to nearly kill them and several other systems, why, their greatest grandchildren wouldn't be able to live down the dishonor."
"Good job, Sansho. You have memorized the story well."
The burly Makyan jumped to his feet at the sight of the unhooded Garlic Jr standing in front of the now totally ajar door, the elder Nicky immediately behind him. Frost was startled as well. "I-I'm sorry brother," Sansho muttered, the edge in his voice totally replaced by embarrassment, "I hope you weren't offended by me speaking badly of your father!" Garlic in turn merely laughed. "It's OK, Sansho. Truth be told, I'm grateful to you for giving our new guest a little history lesson." he said, briefly turning his head to Frost. "Anyways, I'm just here to tell you that, assuming Nicky's calculations are correct, we should reach our destination in 3 hours. I will allow the both of you to resume your training, but first I need to show Frost something." He gestured to the Arcosian to come over. And so he did, following Garlic Jr. and Nicky out of the training room and into the yellowed, dank hallway. As they walked, Frost had one thought on his mind: How had Garlic Jr. walked into the room and listened to the conversation without making any noise? He was so busy pondering this question that he initially failed to notice they had stopped at a dead end. When he did snap back to reality, he saw Nicky pull out a key from a pocket beneath his white drapes. He placed the key into a small hole at the bottom of the wall. Frost gasped as Nicky opened up a large drawer embedded in the wall containing a full set of Dragon Balls.
A group of soldiers patrolled the outskirts of the ruined castle. They climbed up the various rocks and broken walls with rifles in hand scouting the area for intruders, the only sound they made being that of their gas helmets with tubes at the mouth connecting to the oxygen tanks on their backs. As part of their routine, the 5 soldiers outside the castle reconvened at the entrance of the ruined castle, their once pristine white combat suits now covered in multi-colored stains from the trash and filth they had been forced to wade through. "Persimmon, remind me again," one of the soldiers asked, "What exactly are we doing lounging around here?" A slimmer, smaller soldier replied in a distinctly female voice. "We're here to protect the trash disposal personnel, remember? There's also the castle too. It's been the subject of quite a few failed robberies over the years. What's in there that's so special as to drag oneself over to this junkyard, I don't know, but the point is that it's a dirty thankless job that somebody has to do." Just then, Persimmon's visor began to flash with a sequence of inverted yellow symbols visible from the other troopers.
"Captain Persimmon here. ...Oh? ...Yes, I understand. We'll get on it." Her communicator flickered off as she faced back towards the others. "We just got a signal from one of the trash compactor workers. They spotted an unidentified ship entering the planet's orbit." Just then, the loud whir of an engine made the troop look up to see a rusty old cruiser flying through the murky red skies of the Makyo Star, seemingly preparing to land on a nearby bluff. This sight removed the troopers' edge; it was looking like another petty trash hoarder.
One man wasn't so sure, however. He was standing on top of the ruined castle's highest worn stone tower, only reachable via a broken bridge just short enough for the man to carefully step over. He wore identical attire to the other soldiers, only he was much bigger and fatter than any of the others, his jumpsuit just barely managing to stretch to accomodate his large belly and his oxygen tank looking puny compared to the size of his back. He had been the first to see the ship pass through, and while his comrades made their way towards the vessel's landing sight, he had decided to lay back and observe, for he could've sworn that he saw his old partner Frost peeking through one of the dirty windows of the junker.
The ship landed on a bluff, giving its passengers a high vantage point of the ruined castle. As the four got out, Sansho scoffed at the sight before him. "Those runts… ...They turned our planet into a garbage dump!" Standing right beside the brute and directly behind Garlic Jr. Frost was surprised at the remark. "Wait… this is the Makyo Star? Not exactly what I think of upon hearing the word 'star'." Meanwhile, Garlic Jr. was at the front of the party, surveying the land before the steep drop. Even from this height, he could see various white figures stationed in front of his once-glorious palace. Turning to the rest of the group, he laid out his plan. "Nicky and I will stay with the ship. Sansho, Frost, you two will go down there and search around and inside the palace for anyone else who could stand in our way and dispose of them. Now get going!"
While their master and wiseman stayed behind, Sansho and Frost advanced headfirst down the slope. Using their feet to slow themselves as they dragged downwards, they took a good look at the dirt path that led to the rusty, cracked front gate of the palace, with garbage mounds and tall rock formations interspersed on either side of this path. They didn't even walk a dozen steps down the path before they were stopped by a feminine voice filtered through an oxygen mask. "Stop right there." The black Makyan and his new friend looked up to see 5 soldiers, 2 of which were on either side on top of the brown boulders, and the 5th, the one who had just spoken, was in the middle of the path. "This is restricted territory, and you are not permitted here." She turned to Frost, who was curiously scanning the men before him. "Especially not you, Frost." the female soldier said, pointing her rifle at directly at the alien. "Let me tell you, this job is a dirty and unpleasant one, but when I turn you in, you'll be the one wallowing in a filthy cell, while me and my men will live new lives of fame and luxury." Sansho was angered by the fact the troopers were ignoring him, and he was just about ready to clobber them when Frost put his hand up to stop him. He whispered something to him that transformed the Makyan's frustrated expression into a more neutral one; a smile would've given away the incoming act of deception.
"Very well then," said Frost, "in that case, I'll surrender." He raised his arms in the air. "I'm no match for you. Even if I was stronger, your gun would easily be able to fell me in a fight." Persimmon felt a storm of very mixed feelings, looking upon the seemingly helpless and resigned Frost. The truth was that underneath that thin sheet of composure she was only barely maintaining was abject horror. On one hand, she was almost certain the criminal was lying, attempting to lull her into a false sense of security to more easily deal the killing blow. And yet, she couldn't let this opportunity go. On the off-chance he was telling the truth, this could be her big break, her chance to become a high-ranking crimefighter, or even just use the reward money to retire then and there. Either way, she was staring death in the face, so she figured that it would be worth a try.
One minute later, Frost and Sansho were handcuffed, both of their arms being firmly held by two soldiers each. As they were guided to a nearby guard ship, Persimmon's cautiousness faded. The two had more than enough strength to fight hand-to-hand even while restrained, and yet they chose to go along with it. Perhaps they had resigned themselves; maybe Frost and the strange man had chosen to abandon their criminal ways and turn themselves in…
This moment of solace was interrupted by agonized screams. Persimmon jolted back to see an unrestrained Frost, his two guards having white-hot pieces of the handcuff's metal piercing their jumpsuits and digging into their steadily burning flesh. "Oh dear, looks like I concentrated a bit too hard." Frost said with a patronizing demeanor. Persimmon reached for her rifle, but not before a large hand placed itself on the top of her head.
CRACK!
Persimmon fell to the ground, her head having been twisted by Sansho's iron grip to the point of snapping of her neck, instantly killing her. Sansho's guards too had been similarly brutalized, and a couple of quick Death Beams from Frost finished off the 2 remaining guards, still reeling from the burning metal shards lodged into their abdomen. Before resuming their walk, Sansho slipped off the helmet of the deceased Persimmon. Flowing black hair drooped to her side, her face white with glassy blue eyes. "Bloody Tuffles, all brains, no brawn. I'm sure they would see me as an inferior if I ever went daft enough to try to integrate into their society, but at least I don't keel over if the wind's blowing a little too hard" said the Makyan. He then looked back at the ruined palace down the road, and he and Frost began to walk again.
Meanwhile, back on the bluff, Garlic had observed his minions' run-in with the guards and how effortlessly they had managed to dispose of them, even as they toyed around initially. "Oh, Master Garlic!" the hoarse, elderly voice of Nicky called. The titular Makyan turned around to see his accomplice had put all the Dragon Balls into place. He walked over, beginning the ritual to summon the dragon. From the carefully placed orbs came out an extremely long, slender dragon coated in blinding light. As the beast grew, the red skies were covered in unnatural dark clouds. Eventually, the dragon fully extended and its armor of light faded away, revealing an extremely long creature with blue skin and a single red eye in the center of his scaly horned head.
"I AM THE ETERNAL DRAGON. I SHALL GRANT YOU THREE WISHES."
Garlic Jr. cleared his throat before confidently speaking. "Excellent. For my first wish…"
Frost and Sansho passed the gate and entered the ruined palace. Upon entering entering, they were met by a two-floored, dimly lit hall, doorways littered throughout leading into other rooms. The room they were in was composed of cracked, mossy blue stone. Frost looked up to see half of the roof was completely gone. Through this opening, he saw that the sky was now hidden by a layer of clouds. Sure enough, upon looking back out the entrance, he saw a large blue dragon on the bluff where they had come from. He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder from Sansho. Frost looked back to the end of the room. The doorway there was blocked by another soldier. Unlike the others, however, this one was far bigger and wider, towering over he and Sansho by a fair amount. Frost's accomplice charged at the trooper, delivering a firm kick in the being's abdomen. To the Makyan's shock, the strike did nothing; the recipient of the attack hadn't so much as acknowledged it. Before he could try another attack, the soldier swatted Sansho away with his broad, long left arm, making his opponent drag across the floor. While Sansho lay on the ground in pain and confusion, Frost chimed in.
"I would appreciate it if you stopped insulting my intelligence, Botamo. You could wish to become invisible and your width would still foil any attempt at being mysterious and intimidating."
The armored Botamo gave the ground a light stomp of frustration. "Your insults mean nothing if you can't even hurt me." he growled. Sansho, with some difficulty, rose up to a kneel. "You know this guy, Frost?" "You can say we have a bit of history, yes." The Arcosian replied. "I knew him to an extent when I was a grunt. We were never particularly friendly towards one another, but we did work together when the situation mandated it. We even competed together in the Tournament of Power." He turned back towards the suited-up Botamo and continued. "His body transports the force of any attack to a parallel dimension, making him effectively impervious to normal damage. I wouldn't let that intimidate you, however. Aside from being a one-trick-pony, he is slothful and arrogant. He never bothered to seek training to improve his knowledge of fighting, because he felt he was too good for it, and his reflexes and discipline are comparable to that of a newborn; any remotely tricky technique will blindside him. Why else would a being with the potential to take on Gods be relegated to working in a garbage dump…"
Even through his mask, Frost could see Botamo twitching and struggling to contain his anger. But then, the giant took a deep breath and spoke again. "Oh yeah? What techniques? We're not in a ring-out tournament anymore, Frost. You either have to disarm or kill me, and I quite frankly don't see how you're going to do that." In response, Sansho got up and charged at Botamo again, this time lifting him up, his muscles contracting as he raised him into the air. At first, the bulky being flailed around helplessly, his arms and legs not being able to feel solid ground. But then he relaxed his arms and outstretched his legs. From his new white combat boots, blue jets of flame emerged, propelling Botamo out of Sansho's grip and into the air, eventually landing himself between the Makyan and Frost. "You think I'm going to fall for that one again?" Botamo taunted. Suddenly, almost like magic, the scene around them began to change. The ruined walls of the castle began to mend themselves; the cracks and gaps in the tiles were replaced by brand new ones. The long-gone or busted-up doors regenerated, and the moss and vines interspersed throughout the room shriveled up and faded to dust. The Dragon Balls! Frost thought. Before he could look outside to confirm his suspicion, however, a familiar voice echoed throughout the room.
"Leave this to me." croaked Garlic Jr. Standing within the frame of the palace entrance, his shadow dropped itself up to Botamo's feet. He walked towards the armored behemoth, shoving Frost aside as he did so. Eventually, he was not even half a meter away from Botamo, who was looking down upon him. Garlic craned his neck and stared right back at him. "And what are you gonna do, pipsqueak?" said Botamo. Frost stepped back a bit at this remark. What was Garlic Jr. going to do? He looked over at Sansho, expecting a similarly worried look. However, there was not a trace of worry on his expression. In fact, he had taken on a crooked smile, pure bloodlust visible in his crazed yellow eyes. Frost looked back at Garlic Jr. He was not doing anything, he was just standing there. Frost then shifted his glance down to the Makyan's pockets; inside them, he was quite literally twiddling his fingers. Their shaking and stretching grew faster and stronger, pushing the black fabric of his pockets further outward. And then… nothing. The strange motions had seemingly stopped.
The Arcosian was subsequently startled by an utterly horrific scream of agony. He looked back up to see Botamo, still armored and clutching his chest in pain. His right arm involuntarily twitched and smashed its user in his helmet, revealing a right eye on a bruised yellow head whose pupil was dilated out of terror. Botamo fell to knees, still screaming with blood dripping out of his oxygen mask onto the otherwise stainless stone floor with every choked cough he made. After a series of wild convulsions, he made one last attempt to rise up, still shaking and coughing. As he did so, Frost noticed two objects reaching out of his chest, pushing it outward. Sure enough, two light green claws pierced out of Botamo through his abdomen. The giant made one final yell before the pair of claws retracted back inside of his body and he collapsed. Immediately afterward, Garlic Jr. pulled his hands out of his pockets. He held them up, looking on in glee as he let the blood from them flow onto the tip of his robe. He then gestured Frost and Sansho to continue onward with him down the hall. Walking down, Sansho and Garlic whispered and laughed with each other, while all Frost could summon was a nervous chuckle. He took one final look at the crippled Botamo before heading off with the rest of the party.
The rest of the walk through the palace was unremarkable. For the next 20 minutes or so, Garlic Jr.'s minions were tasked with scouting the various rooms of the palace for any additional soldiers as they searched through it. As it turns out, there were plenty of troopers left who had been aroused by the fall of Botamo and the sudden restoration of the castle. At first, it was rather entertaining for the former crimelord and Sansho to get their hands dirty after so long, but the soldiers' low power levels made them more of a chore than anything to be disposed of. Eventually, Frost became so bored while blasting down all the soldiers that he was scarcely paying attention when Garlic Jr. reached the other end of the palace, where a giant steel door stood. He opened the door and turned on the light to the room. Inside was a giant circular control room, filled with all manner of gadgets and computers. The room's upper half was covered by a glass dome, allowing the people inside a look at the Makyo Star's starry red sky, a mountain in its line of sight. In the center was a large glass tube of some sorts. At the very end of this room was a console with a single red button on it. "My father's pride…" Garlic Jr. began to whisper, eyeing and dragging his hands gently across the various control panels, finally reaching the button at the end. Before he could press it, Frost remembered something. "Garlic! What happened to Nicky?" The Makyan turned towards him. "After I made my wishes to the Dragon, I decided he had finally served his purpose, so I absorbed him. I am, after all, still part Namekian. Not very strong, but it's better than him limping around and getting himself killed." Even Frost was offput by this cold demeanor Garlic had towards his supposed lifelong accomplice. Sansho, on the other hand, didn't seem to care much. If he did, he certainly didn't show it.
Finally, Garlic Jr. pressed the button. All of the consoles suddenly flared to life, and the ground shook and rumbled. The glass tube at the center also began to activate; it was clearly some sort of generator. There was no fuel inside the tube, however; instead, a black portal with a wild yellow outline and black electricity sparking out of it slowly appeared and grew inside the tube. Frost looked backed up, and he saw that the mountain that had been visible through the dome earlier had vanished. The castle appeared to be floating!
The room continued to tremble as Garlic Jr. began a diatribe while staring at the generator. "Like his own father, mine was keen for science and discovery. Seeing as his ancestor had already learned all there was to know about the potential of Makyans, he decided to pursue a new field we were not yet proficient with; war technology. During his research, he learned about Destruction Energy. Yes, as in the energy Gods of Destruction use." He said, seeing Frost's mouth agape in supple shock. "He unfortunately never learned to actually wield this energy, as the training required to use it was far too specialized for him to learn without a God's help. However, he discovered something else…"
Garlic Jr. pointed out at the generator. "That right there is a portal to the Dead Zone. The Dead Zone itself is an alternate dimension, composed purely of Destruction Energy, its existence totally unknown to most mortals and kept a tight secret amongst the Gods. There is a reason for this." He now saw how Frost was clearly confused. "Think about it: When a God of Destruction "destroys" something, does he really destroy it? They can break many laws, including being able to create matter. There is one law, however, that not even Zen-Oh can break. For while they can create new life or objects, they can never ever truly destroy it. This is where the Dead Zone comes in. When a divine being destroys a creature or object, it is sent to the Dead Zone. In the case of living creatures, they are restrained by the Destruction Energy, effectively sedated. My brilliant father was able to figure out how to open portals to the Dead Zone and draw the near-infinite power of its Destruction Energy to power the mechanisms of this palace. Being a reincarnation of my late father, I myself can make small portals on my own. It's how I was able to disable that lumbering dolt who tried to stop us earlier!" To show off his power, Garlic outstretched his hands to his side, making two portals to either side of him. He put his hands inside them, and they came out via two more portals right in front of Frost and Sansho.
Garlic Jr. closed the portals and returned to one of the computers, resting his hands on it. "There is one more thing, however. While I myself can make small portals, my father was able to create a weapon that could do so much more. He almost got a chance to use it. But you see, his knowledge made him dangerous in the eyes of the Gods. Before my poor father could exact his rightful revenge, that obese pig Champa intervened and… …destroyed him. I have made sure not to repeat that mistake, however! With the help of one of my wishes, I was able to put the God of Destruction Champa, the Angel Vados and even the Kaioshin Fuwa under a sleeping spell for 3 days. That's more than enough time to put our new weapon to the test. And I know just what to use it on…"
At the other side of the palace, a Tuffle soldier groggily slipped his eyes open. Lying on the ground, he rose himself up and out of his dorm room to find what he had feared the most. Scattered throughout the front hallway of the palace were scores of dead, bleeding soldiers. He tried to get up to walk, possibly resuscitate a few. However, as he arose, he felt a horrid jolt of pain in his left leg. He looked down to see a cauterized hole in his kneecap, likely left there by a beam attack from one of the criminals that had come through earlier. The first thing the soldier did was try to get down to the first floor. With great difficulty, he limped his way to the main staircase. At the bottom were even more bleeding bodies, including a particularly large one still shuddering in pain. They even took out Botamo, the soldier thought to himself, shuddering as he did so. But there was no way he could help him; he was in zero shape to climb down those stairs, and even if he was, the noise could potentially attract his doom. He had no idea where any of those beasts that had mowed down his platoon were, if they were even still inside the palace at all. But then the soldier looked up and saw something else. The front entrance to the palace was not only fully repaired as was the whole room, but it was slightly ajar, allowing a view outside. The trooper activated the scanner on his cracked but still functional visor. By zooming in on the ajar space, he could make out that the scenery outside had changed. He then realized that it all looked smaller… as if the palace was above it.
The soldier now knew for sure he was a dead man. Even if he had survived the initial assault, the criminals would surely find him in his condition and kill him then, having nowhere to run to. After all, who else could be piloting this thing and allowing to fly? The soldier limped back to the room he had come from, closing and locking the door behind him. It would likely do no good once he was spotted, but it still gave him some momentary facade of security. In the corner of the room was a large monitor. The soldier hastily logged in to the computer, shaking off the throbbing pain in his leg as he opened up the communication channel after scrolling through some menus. Eventually, he reached his destination. Taking one final look around the room and towards the door, he frantically keyed in a distress signal addressed to the Planet Sadal Ministry of Defense.