Dragon Ball X

Why, hello there. Nice to see you guys again ;)

So, let me do the thing I normally do and talk about stuff, then declare "On with the chapter"; It's been a while since the last chapter, even though I promised I'd be able to do more. Sorry about that. In fact, it's been just over a month since I last updated. Oh, the SHAME! *Covers face*

On with the chapter!

000

"I don't like this."

Blitzo was aware of the eyes of Zeang, Makurin, and Ferris on him as he spoke, his black pupils focussed upon their enemy. Down in the arena, Primal effortlessly snapped his opponent's arm in two, the bone snapping like a twig in the hands of a bored child. As the crowd watched on, varying between complete awe and a shocked disgust, Primal slammed his palm into the other fighter's chest, throwing him back out of the ring in a single blow.

The match had started ten seconds before.

"Who is he?" muttered Blitzo, fingers tightening on the rail he was leaning on. The iron bar crumpled in his grasp, leaving two sets of fingers wrapped around the crushed rail.

It was the second day of the tournament, and by now any weak casual competitors had been eliminated from the running. But even the most seasoned fighters fell easily before the super-powered Saiyans, Kenta, and Ferris, who had all easily dispatched every opponent they had been pitted against.

But none with this ruthless efficiency that Primal was showing now. He didn't hold back, smashing through the ranks and growing closer and closer to the finals with every victory.

After recognising Blitzo as a Saiyan immediately after the warrior's defeat of Mataro the day before, Primal had made no move to initiate contact or conflict with what could be his targets. With the assumed knowledge of Primal's employer, they gladly followed his example, actively avoiding him. And yet, wherever the Saiyan's went, Primal always seemed to be close at hand, watching ominously at a distance, or sitting completely still , analysing them from afar.

"I say we get rid of him," said Makurin savagely. "There're only two reasons for him to be here; either Frieza's finally tracked us down, or much more likely, he's here to destroy life on Haven so that it can be sold on the Trade Organisation. We should kill him before he can do anything."

"No," stressed Zeang. "That's much too dangerous. For all we know, he's not the only one here. If we destroy him, we'll lose any chance we had of finding any companions. And besides, we have no proof that he's who we think he is. He could be innocent."

Ferris narrowed his eyes as he watched the tournament medics remove the unconscious, heavily injured body of Primal's defeated opponent from the arena. "Zeang. Why hasn't he made a move; if Primal really did recognise Blitzo for who he was, why hasn't he tried to attack?"

Zeang shook his head. "He's biding his time. Before a planet exterminator is sent on a mission, the planet is scanned beforehand to detect how powerful the residents are. He's testing the ground, and by the look of it, is having some fun doing so. This sort of twisted pleasure is common among Frieza's men."

Down in the ring, below the terrace that they were watching from, the announcer shouted into megaphone. "And with another incredible victory, Primal advances to the final eight! What a fighter, ladies and gentlemen; Primal has yet to be hit in any of his matches. Maybe some of our friends in the finals will give him a good match."

Blitzo folded his arms. "And now he's in the finals. This is getting more and more dangerous. If he fights full-on, he won't hold back to not hurt the spectators."

Zeang shook his head. "I know. We have to be very careful from now on. He could strike out at any time."

Makurin flexed his muscles unconsciously. "I'm itching for a good fight. I wish the finals would start already."

"You may just get your wish," answered Ferris, smiling un-humourously. The tall sharp-eyed Havien stood with his arms folded, looking down at the arena where Primal was departing. "The last fight begins now; then, the finals begin."

000

"Give them a cheer, folks! They've earned it, wouldn't you say?"

Blitzo couldn't help but relish in the enormous roar that swelled amongst the crowd. All eight finalists were in the main arena, standing in a perfectly straight line. Blitzo smirked as he spotted Arnika, Zeang, and the three Eternal Warriors in the crowd. Arnika just winked at him, clapping a few times, while the others just watched silently. The four of them stood out from the rest of the crowd, stoic surveyors next to a wild cheering mass.

Blitzo was on the edge of the line, at one end. Garbed in a blue training gi, he folded his arms as the group waited for the cheering to abate. A metre to Blitzo's right stood Makurin, and the two rolled their eyes at each other.

Also in the finals was – to Arnika and Rhuna's chagrin – Baldwin Coster, as well as Rhuna herself. So far Coster hadn't recognised the Saiyan woman, despite the complete and utter smackdown she had delivered to him years before. Blitzo supposed that one as self-absorbed as Coster would simply force that out of his brain.

Primal, of course, had made the cut. He stood at the far end of the line, apart from the other finalists, and a sickened itchy feeling crawled up Blitzo's spine; he could feel that Primal was looking at him. Blitzo turned his eye on the alien and scowled, the two meeting eyes for the only time since they'd seen first each other.

Primal's yellow Saiyan armour had been removed, presumably discarded after the general strength levels of the Haviens had been confirmed. The ordinary fighters posed no threat to him; there was no need for protection. Blitzo smirked. The Haviens might not be a worry for Primal, but he and the others definitely should. Every one of the super-warriors possessed greater strength than Primal; if Blitzo had to estimate, he'd put the alien's power level at about 40,000. Without a Scouter is was impossible to get an exact number.

That was one of the few flaws in the assumption that Primal worked for Frieza. The galactic tyrant had powerful underlings, that was certain. But the only soldiers he employed that were anywhere near Primal's level were his right hand men, Dodoria and Zarbon. Them and the Ginyu Force.

Next to the Saiyans in the line stood Ferris and Kenta, both having easily progressed to the final eight. They were both dressed in similar outfits to their companions, garbed in a martial arts gi. Ferris in particular looked most at home in the attire; Blitzo rarely saw him without one. As Blitzo glanced at him, Ferris and Rhuna exchanged a look, smiling at each other.

Bringing the total to eight was an unfamiliar face to Blitzo's eyes. Tall and extremely muscular, he went by the name of Leonardo, and looked impossibly intimidating. Well…he would…To someone like Blitzo, the man was laughably dramatic and about as worrisome as a kitten.

The eight stood in the line together in the middle of the arena: Blitzo, Makurin, Rhuna, Ferris, Kenta, Coster, Leonardo, and Primal. The final competitors.

"What an assembly, folks!" shouted the announcer, as several tournament officials wheeled a whiteboard onto the raised ring. Following up behind them was another official, holding a medium-sized box with a hole cut into the top.

The whiteboard was directed into place before the lines, and the announcer stepped forward.

"Alright, here's how it works. You pick out a number, and you're matched up with a partner. It's as simple as that, so go ahead and choose, competitors!"

Before anyone could make a move, Coster barged forwards and thrust his hand into the box, speaking over his shoulder. "Me first, I'd say. Nothing like a brave winner to start off the proceedings!"

Blitzo noticed Rhuna cracking her knuckles.

Coster withdrew his hand from the box, clenching in his massive fist a small rubber ball. It had the number 5 written on it in black marker pen. Coster held the ball up in the air, showing it to everybody in the crowd.

"Number 5!" he declared, and swaggered back to his position. The crowd gave a cheer, celebrating the old champion's selection. By the whiteboard, one of the officials wrote Coster's name on the white background. The board already had a draw carved into it. Blitzo looked at it; who you fought was based on your number. 1 fought 2, 3 fought 4, and so on.

Primal went next, striding over to the official holding the box without waiting for anyone else. Blitzo narrowed his eyes, and he saw Makurin and Ferris also warily minding the enemy.

"Number 4!" cried the announcer, and Primal stepped back into line, arms folded. Once again, he turned his gaze on Blitzo, who matched the glare with his angry Saiyan eyes. Primal winked, and Blitzo felt a horrible desire to destroy rise up inside him. The Saiyan shook the feeling off in disgust; he hadn't felt it since that furious battle with Denkuma five years before, and it wasn't a desire he relished having. Feeling suddenly drained, he slumped his shoulders. This tournament didn't hold any fun. Despite his initial enthusiasm, the fighting during each round had been dull and uninteresting due to his own strength. Every opponent had fallen like dominos; it was like swatting a large number of geriatric half-dead mosquitos.

And now with Primal in the game, the whole affair had that sense of danger and urgency about it, robbing what little entertainment there remained for him. In fact, he was beginning to wish that it would all end.

"After you," Blitzo heard Ferris say, and Rhuna stepped up to the box, pulling out the number 6. Blitzo had to restrain the urge to laugh out loud, and failed, letting a few chuckles out.

Rhuna would be fighting Baldwin Coster.

Rhuna knew the same thing that Blitzo had realised, and wore a terribly satisfying smile as she walked back to her place. Her posture was suddenly different; as one of his oldest friends, Blitzo recognised it. Rhuna only stood like that when she was trying to suppress great excitement.

Ferris chose the number 7, and after him was Makurin with number 1. Up next came the outsider, Leonardo, who drew the ball with 3 on it. He would be fighting Primal.

"Poor sod," thought Blitzo. "He doesn't stand a hope in Hell."

Kenta gestured towards the box; the two of them were the only ones remaining to draw their numbers. From the numbers already drawn, Blitzo knew that he could either draw 2, and fight Makurin, or 8, and fight Ferris.

Kenta nodded him on, and Blitzo stepped forward. The official holding the selection box nodded and smiled; he was an old doddery fellow missing his front teeth. Holding his tongue between his teeth, Blitzo reached into the box and felt around inside. The second he touched a rubber ball, he closed his fingers around it and pulled it out, rolling it in his fingers until he spotted the number upon it.

"Not bad…"

Turning slowly, he raised the ball and showed it to his opponent. Makurin nodded slowly, and furrowed his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth was tilted slightly upwards.

As Blitzo fell back into place, Kenta shrugged and walked forwards.

"Guess I'm number 8 then," he said brightly, and winked at Ferris. "How about that, eh?"

Ferris looked pleased with the result. "I was hoping this would be the case," he said.

Watching from one of the highest rows in the grandstands, Arnika examined the names written on the whiteboard. "How about that, eh?" she said. "Kenta and Ferris are going to be fighting."

"The teacher vs. the student," remarked Geani, a rare smile on his face. "How fitting."

"Blitzo and Makurin as well," said Arasha, her violet eyes as serious as ever. "They'll be happy about that…"

Arnika made a face. "I don't think so. Blitzo says that he's bored by the whole tournament. He's not that interested anymore."

"What?" Mataro rolled his eyes, the giant man leaning against the low wall behind him. "Coming to this thing was his idea. And you'd think a Saiyan like him would love all this fighting."

Next to him, Zeang laughed. "Saiyans love fighting, that's true…but most find easy wins to be worthless." The bald psychic closed his eyes as he flashed back to the old days. "A Saiyan only finds pleasure in combatting a strong opponent. And as for Makurin, he's as bored as Blitzo is."

Arnika glanced down into the arena. "Damn, Rhuna's lucky. This is the second time she gets to beat the hell out of that Coster jerk."

Mataro folded his arms, looking at the clouds in the sky above. "So the only interesting fight this round is going to be Kenta and Ferris…what a drag. These tournaments aren't as exciting as I remembered."

000

Blitzo huffed in disinterest as he listened to the screaming crowd. Opposite him, mirroring his actions was Makurin. The other Saiyan's sharp black eyes blinked slowly.

"We can't fight here," he said over the cheering, and Blitzo nodded in agreement. "But one of us has to defeat the other."

Blitzo knew exactly what Makurin was talking about. Neither of the two particularly wanted to continue in the tournament, but neither would they submit to the other. It simply wasn't in a Saiyan's mindset to give in.

"He'll fight simply to avoid quitting," thought Blitzo, and they exchanged looks. The challenge was evident in his opponent's eyes.

"Competitors!" shouted the announcer into his microphone, and the crowd surged, cheering for their finalists. "Let the finals begin! Go!"

Blitzo dropped into his crouching position, awaiting an attack. If they wouldn't give in, combat was inescapable. The crowd watched in apprehension; after Blitzo's initial battle with Mataro, and the ensuing wipeout that both Saiyans had commenced against the ordinary Haviens in the tournament, the audience was expecting quite a rumble.

Makurin shimmered in the air, disappearing, but Blitzo's eyes followed him carefully. With perfect timing, he drew back his arm and pushed forward on his right foot, punching out as he did so.

With a loud smack, his fist met another, colliding between the Saiyans. Makurin reappeared as he stopped moving, and the two stood locked together, struggling to push the other's arm back.

"Heh," smirked Makurin. "This is even more pointless than I thought. We're not going all-out. What a waste of time."

Blitzo grinned back, and broke out of the struggle, flipping around and landing in a handstand, kicking powerfully backwards. His feet caught Makurin under the chin, and the other man's feet left the ground at the impact, blown a few metres away by the blow. As reactant as ever, he caught himself on his hands and flipped the right way up, landing in a crouch, before sweeping his legs around and tripping Blitzo over.

It had almost no effect; Blitzo rolled as he landed, spinning out of the somersault and lashing out with his foot. Makurin backflipped out of the way, and the two faced each other, each in a defensive position, waiting another attack.

"You're right," spoke Blitzo, as if their conversation had never been interrupted. "If we continue, we'll only exhaust ourselves. And with Primal around, tournament or not, we may need that energy."

Makurin was silent for a few seconds, and then straightened to his feel height, abandoning his defensive posture. "You understand, we will continue this again."

Blitzo nodded, and the two exchanged a knowing glance. "Of course. I'd be dishonoured if we did not."

And in perfect unison, they turned to the announcer perched on the edge of the ring and said simultaneously; "We forfeit."

The man's jaw dropped in disbelief, unable to belief his eyes.

"What did you just say?" he gaped. "You're both giving in?"

Unfortunately, the microphone was still held to his mouth, and the words were projected around the stadium, for everyone to hear. Slowly, it dawned on them what they'd just heard, making the connection between the words and the fact that the subjects of their interest were no longer fighting.

"They both gave in?" exclaimed Mataro, eyes wide.

"Told ya," smirked Arnika.

Geani grimaced angrily, slamming his hand upon the rail in front of the row they were standing in. "Those idiots! Don't they realise what they've done!" The man's hard blue eyes were flashing with frustration.

"What is it?" asked Arnika, alarmed.

"By forfeiting, they've completely ruled out the chance of them fighting Primal in the next round. How foolish…don't they know that we have to eliminate the threat as soon as possible? They're endangering the security of the entire planet!"

This fact dawned upon Arnika, and she looked worriedly back into the ring. Blitzo and Makurin were going to cop it when Geani got a hold of them.

By now the crowd had descended into a crazed mob of booing, angrily demanding the match to continue, but the two Saiyans ignored them, walking shoulder to shoulder back to the Barracks.

Arasha grimaced. "Primal fights next. We don't have to wait to imagine the result…"

000

As was predictable, Primal completely destroyed Leonardo, defeating him in a single blow. The final-winning backhand shattered Leonardo's nose, sending a spurt of blood through the air as the unconscious Havien flew twenty metres, landing heavily like a ragdoll on the grass outside the ring.

As the crowd commenced their mandatory clapping – with Primal, there was never any cheering – the alien sneered around at the spectators, before striding back to the Barracks much like Blitzo and Mataro had. As he did, the announcer swallowed audibly into his microphone; Primal's malicious intent was obvious even to those who didn't know who he was. He seemed to radiate cruelty, and not holding back in his matches only amplified that.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, what an...um…impressive performance from Primal there. Because of the unprecedented double forfeit last round, Primal skips the next round and proceeds directly to the Grand Final! Give him a cheer, folks!"

Rather stunted applause broke out in a few odd places over the stadium, but Primal didn't even seem to notice, ignoring the entire announcement and disappearing into the Barracks.

Among the thousands of completely silent spectators stood Zeang, alone. He'd moved away from the others, gently forcing his way closer to the ringside to more easily watch Primal. It hadn't told him much, only to further emphasise what he already knew.

"He's dangerous…"

000

Rhuna scowled in pure outrage as an almighty roar swelled among the crowd, the loudest she'd heard since the tournament begun. She didn't even have to turn around to know that Coster had entered the ring.

Rhuna stood at the far end, arms folded, waiting for the match to begin. She could hear Coster's eternal bragging, and longed for the match to begin so that she could finish what she'd started six years ago.

"Yeeaaahhh!" bellowed Coster, raising his arms high above his head, absorbing the attention like a sponge. Rhuna glared at him; she wasn't jealous of the obvious favouritism the crowd was showing – far from it. What she hated was the corruption; Coster had the citizens of Haven twisted around his little finger. Arnika hated the same thing.

And Rhuna was damn well looking forward to showing them what a joke Coster really was.

"Hey, you!" shouted Coster, pointing at the announcer. "Let's start already, what's the hold-up?" The big man glanced at Rhuna, who sniffed in disgust. Coster was bald, but since she'd last seen him, he'd grown a massive moustache and a rough biker beard. The greasy hairs were pitch black. "I feel sorry for you honey, but at least you have the privilege to fight me. That can be your consolation prize!" He let out a massive guffaw.

Rhuna grimaced, and had to fight the urge to snap his neck right then and there. "Whatever, dirtbag. Let's just fight."

As the announcer started the match, Rhuna felt the sadistic tendencies of her race creeping into her mind. An intense love of violence and superiority governed the Saiyan race, but she forced the inherent traits away.

After all, if she killed Coster, she'd be disqualified, and while it would give her great pleasure and would create no guilt whatsoever, she knew that wasn't the right course, no matter her hatred for the man at her mercy now.

Like the Saiyan woman, Coster didn't move to fight immediately either; rather, he started flexing his muscles, showing himself off to the spectators. With Rhuna watching in disgust, this continued for a further minute before he finally turned his attentions to her.

"What's a lady like you doing her anyway?" he asked, mocking her. "I never expected a woman to make it to the final eight. Sure, I guess you've got skills, but next to a man like me, you really have no chance."

"So not only is he a jerk in general, but he's also sexist," thought Rhuna, her instincts to simply rip him apart rising. Again, she pushed them aside.

"Just shut up and fight, you cowardly bastard," she sneered, and Coster furrowed his brow.

"What did you say?" he demanded, and Rhuna smirked. Time to drop the bomb.

"You heard me…you know, Coster, I have to say that I'm rather surprised you don't remember me…"

Coster took a step towards her, pointing threateningly. "We've never met."

"Oh really?"

"Yes!" Coster barked, and jumped in battle, huge muscles finally being put to work. With a massive cry – mirrored by the crowd – he launched a massive punch at the woman in front of him. His meaty fist moved surprisingly fast, and to any normal fighter, it would have been almost impossible to avoid or block.

Rhuna deflected it without a second thought, effortlessly pushing the punch out of the way. Coster, expecting resistance, stumbled closer to her, and Rhuna stepped aside. A terrible urge to break him rose inside her once more, and it took enormous effort to push it back down.

Enraged at Rhuna's manoeuvre, Coster spun to face her again, and only grew angrier at her seemingly calm demeanour. He charged forward, aiming another punch, but this was also to no avail; Rhuna bent backwards, ducking the blow without losing balance and sending Coster once again stumbling past.

"You don't remember?" asked Rhuna venomously, her hatred showing for the first time as she slowly turned to face Coster. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but it was quickly cancelled out.

The crowd was noticeably silent, and Rhuna smiled inwardly at the irony; last time she had defeated Coster, the crowd had been completely quiet then as well.

"You don't remember me?" she repeated, but Coster just clenched his fists. Who the hell was this blasted woman? He ran her up and down a few times, but nothing seemed familiar. Ignoring her cryptic comments, he charged again, this time more wary. Instead of one powerful punch, he planned to do several quick jabs. Despite being massive and muscular, Coster had fierce speed in his punches, and had caught quite a few opponents off guard.

But not one of them landed on Rhuna. She shimmied from side to side, ducking and weaving, leaning and stepping; Coster's eyes widened in sheer disbelief at her speed. This woman's reflexes were off the chart.

And then, just as an unfamiliar feeling of fear began to rise within him, Rhuna stopped dodging and point-blank caught his fist. Coster actually gasped – she hadn't even seemed to try, just raising her arm and grabbing his fist mid-punch.

Rhuna smiled wickedly, cruel black pupils dilating in anticipation. Her grip on his fist tightened, and with her free hand reached up and flicked him on the nose, letting go of his hand and the same time.

Coster's head rocketed back, and he took several steps backward. The pain in his nose was tremendous; he hadn't felt such raw force since…since…

Very slowly, Coster looked at Rhuna. A trickle of blood ran out of his nose and over his chin, and a horrible realisation was etched onto every inch of his face. A brutal pleasure was flowing through her veins as she recognised the pure fear in her hated opponent's eyes.

"Y-You…" he whispered. Coster's limbs were visibly shaking as a paralysing fear ran through him, rooting him to the spot. Now he knew exactly what she was talking about. That face, the hair…those eyes – those infernal sadistic eyes were now all too familiar to him. Suddenly, a flash of pain ran across his forehead and through his jaw, gone as quick as it came.

A memory, he realised.

Rhuna smirked, and as he recognised her, and as that horrible dread filled Coster's mind, the beast within her rose, out of her control for the first time in years.

"Yes…ME!"

She screamed the last word, every ounce of hatred and revulsion exploding from within, amplified a hundredfold by the primitive Saiyan instincts. Power and energy exploding from every orifice, she leapt off from one foot. Coster's jaw cracked like an egg as her fist impacted upon it, the kinetic energy transferring at an explosive rate. A shockwave ran through Coster's body, rattling every bone, as he was blown right off his feet, as helpless as an ant caught in a hurricane. The crowd gasped as one; the match was over already. Coster cleared the edge of the arena and began to fall to the grass, still travelling at a frightening speed.

CRACK!

"What's she doing?" shouted Geani. Arnika paled as she looked down at the scene. Even after belting Coster and knocking him out of the ring, Rhuna had flown behind him and delivered a full-force kick to his back in mid-air. A sickening crack sounded through the whole arena; even high in the stands, everyone heard it.

Coster screamed as his entire body went limp; he couldn't move a single limb. It was as if everything was paralysed, and Coster knew that his spine had been snapped.

"Oh no…" gasped Zeang, as Coster flopped back into the arena. Rhuna followed, smashing her fist once more into his face and throwing back again. By now he was completely unconscious, but that was the least of his problems.

Rhuna's eyes were dancing with a terrible glee, a beastly flame driven by hatred and the natural Saiyan urge to kill. By now she was completely out of control; she couldn't stop herself. She was possessed.

She raised her hand back for a final blow…

WHIZCH!

There was a flicker of movement in front of her eyes, and suddenly she was being held, restrained by powerful arms; the grip was familiar, and she found herself looking into sharp blue eyes, a calming gaze that stared into her black pupils. The wild primitive fire in her eyes slowly faded, and her body shook with ragged shallow breaths.

As medics rushed into the ring, grouping desperately around Coster's limp and broken body, Rhuna felt everything come rushing back; the rational side of her had returned. But if was too late. She looked in fear at the man who held her.

"Ferris…" Rhuna whispered, and fainted.

000

Wow, Rhuna went completely overboard there. Pure anger unrestrained, the Saiyan within bursting forth. Luckily Ferris was there to hold her back or she would have killed him.

Sorry again about the wait. I don't know why I didn't write this sooner, it felt amazing to channel Rhuna's control break. It's the first time I've ever gotten such an amazing rush from writing a single scene.

See you all next chapter!

Toodles!