A/N: And here it is! The Hiatus has been uplifted! Huzzah for Dragon Ball Z Month!

For any loyal fans returning to read further, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for waiting so long. I apologize for giving this story so much space as I have many cool ideas planned out in wait. For those who didn't know, I had a dear friend encouraging me and helping me bounce ideas for this fic. When he left for a long time my drive dwindled before slowly dying out. I know that isn't much of an excuse, but I had a lot of other ideas I wanted to put to keyboard as it were so I chose to delay updating this chapter until I knew it was the right time.

With Dragon Ball Z: Resurrection of F only weeks away, I naturally took precedence to update this Chapter. With luck, I can also update Other World Saga and The Power of Two this month as well. All DBZ while still fulfilling my other quotas on my current running stories. I'm a busy man, I guess? XD

Hope you all enjoy it and please leave me your thoughts in a Review below!

Vegeta Chronicles

Chapter 18 - Ascension

West City

The neighborhood was oddly quiet around the Briefs' household. It was something that F-Trunks had noticed the moment he stepped outside, to face his home's would-be intruders. Granted, he never met any of the neighbors in person when he first arrived from the future, but he found it odd that he didn't notice any energy output from any given household. They felt vacant, and possibly have been for quite some time.

"Has this whole event all been set-up through prior espionage? How long have they known about our development and progress?" F-Trunks could only ponder, as his eyes stoically stared at his enemies.

Mere seconds ago, what seemed like the more impatient oppressor challenged Trunks openly. As time dragged on, he realized it could've just been a front, or some form of overconfidence that overrode the logic he knew all too well. Or, he simply liked to take his time.

What happened next, seemed to verify the last of the suppositions.

"YOU SON OF A-!" The attacker snarled out, his entire body armor glowed with a neon blue outline, giving him an electrified appearance. An odd sensation washed over Trunks as he saw the man "power up", like the hairs on his neck standing up. As he kicked off, it wasn't a discharge of Ki that made him move with great speed towards him, but rather a generation of rapidly vibrated particles discharging from the hems of his suit.

The shockwave generated from the impact of the attacker's glove striking F-Trunks was enough to shake the entire city block. What it didn't do, however, was make it past an open palm that caught the fist directly.

"What?!" The IC grunt shouted out incredulously, finding his attack stopped dead in its tracks.

"Nice," F-Trunks dryly grated out, rearing back his right fist as his left palm held the enemy's knuckles tightly, "you almost caught me off guard."

With a resounding smashing sound of knuckles striking metal, the man felt the breath knocked out of him as he pinwheeled backwards a good dozen meters, tumbling head over heels through the white picket fence and into the next yard.

"Huh," F-Trunks responded with curiosity, looking down at his knuckles to see a small amount of scruff marks lining their edges, "odd. That punch hurt. What the hell is that armor made of?"

"Idiot!" What seemed to the leader of these commandos in black shouted back at the dazed subordinate of his, "don't get goaded into a frontal confrontation! You have to think smart and outmaneuver him, otherwise he'll pulverize you!"

"Owwwww," The toppled soldier rose up, stumbling to his feet, "I could feel it, even through the Kinetic Armor. I thought this stuff is suppose to stop attacks dead in their tracks?"

"They are supposed to dampen them, not make you damned invincible! Tao was lucky due to his cybernetic implants. The Doctor woven him a more integrated version of what we have, and he had no sense of pain in the majority of his body. We're flesh and blood, not supermen!" The Captain ridiculed his subordinate.

"Sorry sir," the subordinate replied, trotting to the rear flank of the assembled troopers.

"So, you got fancy armor that can repel impacts?" F-Trunks queried aloud, letting them know he heard every word they spoke.

"Yeah, what of-" The Leader began, before seeing the long-haired Saiyan pull the enormous sword from the earth in a slow, purposeful motion, "-it...?!"

"You better dodge this," F-Trunks warned, his eyes coldly glared at the leader of the skull-designed masked troopers, his blade pointed in his direction, "I will kill you if you don't!"

"SPREAD OUT! TAKE HIM IN THREES!" The Leader immediately ordered. To the troopers' credit, they all immediately lit up with electrifying auras before moving rapidly around the lawn and street. They appeared as silhouettes of blue light upon their matte black armored attire, moving to and fro with surprising grace and dexterous ability.

The first trio launched their attack, and their target was prepared.

F-Trunks swung his blade in a whirling blur of steel through the air, cutting into the neon-hued arcs of movement, as he strode past them in a violent dash. What transpired next seemed to take everyone by surprise.

The first trio of arcing lights manifested in the air just behind of the Saiyan, exploding in an azure blast compressed energy melded with high density air pressure. This sent their bodies scattering across the air, plummeting them into the house bordering the Briefs' west side, collapsing it with violent impacts respectively.

The next trio arrived shortly after.

One appeared to F-Trunks' left, throwing out a electric-swift punch towards his side, meeting a deflecting forearm. The next appeared from above, forward flipping to deliver a velocity-aided swing of two unfolded energy-edged gladiuses. This was simultaneously parried with an upwards swing of his blade, impeding the would-be cutting power that the swords possessed, while twisting his defending arm to block a flurry of punches from the persistent enemy on his flank.

The last of the new trio appeared in front of him, holding a tubular-barrel shaped rifle in his hand. It lit up with a transparent light at the end, intending on shooting the silver-haired man while he was busy fending off his companions.

"Eat this, Freak!" The Trooper snarled out, as a high-pitched whine ensued upon a ray of white light discharged out of the gun's barrel.

"Don't think so!" F-Trunks dryly retorted, grasping the wrist of an incoming attack from his fisticuffs-toting attacker, swinging him around directly in the path of the white beam of light.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!" The scapegoat soldier quickly spasmed along with a high-pitched, guttural scream as the beam ripped him apart, turning him into charred fragments and dust within a handful of seconds.

"Ah, crap baskets," The shooter swore under his breath, seeing his opportunity vanish as suddenly as his comrade's body had.

"Your turn!" F-Trunks snarled out, swinging his blade cleanly through his airborne assailant's swords and incidentally his arms and upper torso. The blade's path arched downwards as the star-tressed warrior lunged with incredible momentum of his own. Skidding to a halt a good two meters behind the shooter, he rose back up into an erect stance, just as the body of his enemy fell into two perfectly bisected halves.

As the remaining six Proto-Troopers appeared around him, they were all hesitant to take the initiative on charging him so suddenly. The demonstration at how easily F-Trunks bypassed their technology's defenses and attacks so easily, showed that the man from the future was more skilled than anticipated. They wouldn't be able to overwhelm someone of such awareness and innate battle intuition.

"Well?" F-Trunks inquired, raising his sword up to tap the flat part of it against his shoulder, raising his brows to dubiously analyze his remaining opponents, "you want to keep going, or did your friends' deaths serve no purpose other than slow me down? Cause honestly, I can keep going all day at this pace."

The Proto-Trooper Leader paused, visibly balling his fists with frustration. He hadn't been informed that someone of this caliber would be guarding the Capsule Corp HQ. Any prior intel they had on this "Future" Trunks seemed irrelevant, as his entire fighting style seemed to have changed, making him much more dangerous than even a fully powered Vegeta would have been.

"Captain Gaze," The Proto Leader inquired via comm, muting his outputting audio through simple mental command, "we're in a bit of a situation here..."

"I see it, don't worry. Give the word to the rest of your comrades to deploy the rest of the platoon. Its time to put everyone to the test, along with this equipment designed to handle situations like this," Gaze responded smoothly, being on the edge of the city block that was currently empty. Unseen eyes narrowed behind his dark visor, noting each and ever muscular twitch of the aged swordsman. He didn't appear to be anything resembling perturbed or panicked, quite calm and serene, especially in front of the four slender silhouettes that stood behind him, within the rooftop's shadows, "I'll keep an eye on this Saiyan, Trunks', movements. When the right moment strikes, my team and I will move in for the kill!~"

"U-Understood sir," The Squad Officer gulped, knowing that he was being put directly in the line of fire again.

"If you could, please don't die too quickly!~" Gaze finished with a dramatic, sing-song tone before cutting his connection.

The Proto Leader just sighed, lamenting he's been given the equivalent to a suicide mission by his superior. Still, there was comfort that numbers was still on their side.

With a quick tapping command to his wrist-communique, F-Trunks could feel movement upon the periphery of his senses. What he saw caused him to stretch his grin into a dark smile. Dozens, most likely over a hundred, of the blue-hued commandos seemed to be perched, standing, squatting, and spread out for a good distance in a circular surrounding formation around him.

"This might take a bit longer than I thought," F-Trunks mused, flourishing his blade in a beckoning stance, prepared for incoming attacks by any number of his oppressors, "but it shouldn't be a problem!"

Central City Mountains

Roshi was calm.

The situation would make anyone, ordinarily, very alarmed. Seasoned or amateur, any fighter with a degree of intelligence would not brush off an attempt on your life through a demonstration of using a mundane object to shatter something so impervious to force so easily. But after the ages he spent within the Chamber, any attempt at his life would seem intriguing at the least rather than terrifying or threatening.

It was something that grated upon his enemy's nerves to no end.

"What are you smiling about, old man?!" Kyoshō snarled, mock treading across the air towards the cliff face.

"I'm excited," Roshi explained simply.

"Excited?" Kyoshō reiterated, his left eye twitching angrily.

"This is my first battle since King Piccolo. I daresay this might define my usefulness to all these youngsters from this point onward. Consider yourself the most important test for me to pass to see if I have what it takes to fight on their battlefields," Roshi grinned as he further explained, resting within a spread-out stance, with each arm held at each of his sides, "but enough of the future. The here and now demands that we test our abilities, to see who is superior and who needs more training!"

Videl was in awe at her teacher's confidence. Having only heard from passing conversations from Piccolo or Gohan about Roshi's days of old glory, she knew he must have been incredible when the times demanded him to be. The fact she saw all their jaws drop to the Lookout's ground when they found out how long he truly spent within the chamber must mean he had acquired a level of power more than any of them could comprehend.

Being able to witness the new and transformed Roshi just gave her chills of trepidation and excitement all at once.

Then, his enemy attacked.

POW! In the space of what seemed like an instant, Videl lost trace of Kyoshō's figure, moving at a speed that she couldn't even follow. Looking over her shoulder, she heard the sound of thunder as billowing air currents slammed into her backside. All that was there was Kyoshō's form, standing right where Roshi was, with an arm outstretched, symbolizing his executed punch he landed upon her master.

The only indication that he landed the hit besides the audible impact, was the follow-up crash of Roshi smashing into the base of another proximate mountain.

"Master Roshi!" Videl cried out, her eyes widened with horror at how easily overwhelmed he was in the face of her adversary. A dark chuckle emitting from her front, advised her not to look too longingly.

"You should keep your attention on me, girl," Castle advised, just before he thrust his left foot up for a snap kick. To his surprise, not only did Videl dodge it, but she managed her own attack in earnest. Spinning on the balls of her heels, Videl evaded the leg, grappling it with one arm to prop her body up into the air, swinging both of her feet up to double kick the man in the jaw.

When Castle swung an arm up to block the kick, he felt the audible impact crack the cliff underneath his feet.

"KA...ME..."

Castle's eyes opened wide with surprise seeing Videl outstretch a hand tinged with an azure aura. Those infamous words being chanted out struck a chord of alarm down his spine, causing him to act accordingly.

"HA...ME..."

"I don't think so!" Castle snarled out, reaching out with his own calloused palm, gripping Videl's wrist harshly and pulling it away from his direction. Seeing Videl growl through the painful iron vice grip he used, coupled with the fizzing dying sparks of Ki vanishing from the hand caused him to smile victoriously.

"Nice try, girl-" He began to utter, just before the periphery of his head noted a bright blue-white glow emitting from the tips of her shoes.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!~" Videl shouted aloud, as the sky around them drowned into a flash of cobalt and white light, the fissure of energy enveloping the man's upper body and head. Launched away from the force of her attack, Videl watched with satisfaction as he and the Kamehameha were launched into the top of another mountain, exploding violently with a sapphire hue.

Landing on all fours, Videl turned her attention to Kyoshō, whom had been adamantly still and kept his back to her the entire time. It seemed that he was staring intently upon the place he sent Roshi rocketing into, eyes glaring at the debris pile. It almost seemed that he was itching for her master to rise again, daring him to challenge him again.

Videl wasn't about to let an opportunity like this slip by.

"You're next, freak!" Videl snarled aloud, propelling herself off the ground, aiming to crash into his backside like a missile. Arms outstretched she could practically feel the fabric of his jacket against her knuckles as she bore through...

...nothing.

Once again, the air seemed to warp around Kyoshō as he vanished from sight, seemingly teleporting from her very eyes.

"Is he so fast that I can't even see him, even past my ability to view the flow of Ki? Or is there some sort of trick allowing him to bypass one's senses?" Videl had questioned briefly as she soared through the air.

Her body flew across the airspace above and past where the mountain peak was shattered, causing her to land on three of her fours onto the proximate mountain peak. When her left fingertips grasped onto a piece of protruding earth for stability, while one foot was propped above the other, she looked down to see the event of another thunderous punch issued from Kyoshō's fists. The force was great enough to shake the mountain once more and cause a pillar of dust and debris to fly upwards, directly within Videl's line of sight.

When the dust cleared, Videl's eyes widened with surprise as much as Kyoshō's did. Underneath the crater he expanded with the secondary punch, there was nothing underneath it. No body, no remains, nothing to indicate Roshi was there.

"Where did he-?!" Videl and Kyoshō seemed to say at once, just before a black and white blur appeared behind Kyshou's backside.

"That punch sure packed a wallop," Roshi said evenly, tapping a foot wide tear in his black gi top, showing where it impacted. Strangely enough, any signs of injury were not there or somehow never existed. Tapping the exposed sternum, Roshi seemed to grin wryly as he saw Kyoshō's surprised visage turn halfway across his left shoulder, to see the shade-donned face smirking back at him, "good thing I moved at the last second, or I think I'd be in real trouble."

Kyoshō wordlessly spun on his heels, swinging an outstretched hammerfist with his left arm to collide into Roshi's left temple. His fist seemed to crush the skull of the taller, older man with ease, crushing the earth itself as the air pressurized and detonated with the attack's movement. Kyoshō smiled with visible enjoyment, until it immediately reverted into an angered one.

The image of Roshi being crushed by his fist faded, as if it was nothing more than a mirage.

"You're faster than you let on," Kyoshō growled, turning around once more, seeing the aged fighter standing upright without flinching, "don't think you have the upperhand. I hit you with minimal force to test your so-called improved body. I don't know how you survived the first hit, but you're definitely tougher than what I have been preparing for."

"And what have you been preparing for?" Roshi inquired curiously.

Bioelectrical currents began to visibly ebb from Kyoshō. Spreading his legs apart and pulling his arms close to his sides, he grinned darkly as his eyes bore into the shade-covered orbs of Roshi's, "That's easy. To become the god of this world by killing its beloved savior Vegeta!"

"Hm, interesting hobby," Roshi mused, wagging a finger in succession as he grinned cheekily, "though I'm not sure such a narcissistic goal is entirely too healthy for you. The ego in your large head could cause it to explode! Wouldn't want that, would we?"

Kyoshō was less than enthusiastic by the response.

With a swift thrust of his fist, Kyoshō punched the air in front of him, causing it to contort into a conical blur of kinetic force. It struck Roshi head-on, enveloping his entire stalwart figure with the thunderous pillar of Kyoshō's attack. Behind his target, a line of mountains were shattered from proximate impact, leaving an fissured trench carved directly in its path.

"MASTER!" Videl shouted out with alarm once again, detaching herself from the face of the mountain to dive towards Kyoshō head-on. It wasn't until a undetected punch impacted into the side of her face, slinging her across the air and through the mountain peak itself, that she knew better than to distract herself.

Erupting from the other side of the earthen face of rock, Videl spun around in an arc to return a kick to the invisible perpetrator's chest.

Light refraction distorted the cloaking field that had veiled Castle's person, revealing him in his entirety. A reddish hue outlined the right side of his face, showing a small amount of burns he took by the point blank energy blast from Videl's hands. Still, a confident and dark grin stretched across his fists as he held up his arms with readiness, "You're good, little girl. Detecting me even while I was invisible to the naked eye and suppressing my Ki so you wouldn't notice my recovery."

"I had good teachers," Videl held up an outstretched hand of beckoning towards her opponent, a hardened glare forming along her brow to emphasize the seriousness of her words, "he's going to annihilate your friend, just like how I'm going to break you!"

"We'll see about that," Castle uttered with amusement, lunging at Videl with a burst of incredible speed to which his opponent matched. Their fight began anew, and with a level of intensity many could say was inhuman.

As for Roshi's fight with Kyoshō, things were already shaping up to be a completely unknown conflict.

From what the Captain of Master Squad felt, Roshi's now familiar signature hadn't waned at all, meaning his attack was dispersed or taken head-on without any negative repercussions. It was even more clear, as the earth that had broken and shattered in the distance wasn't touched at all from where his enemy stood. As if he had protected it by standing there.

"What do you fight for then, old man?" Kyoshō snarled with abrasive inquiry, his eyes twitching at the result of what he saw.

Roshi's entire shirt had been torn off from the force of the attack, revealing his entire muscular torso and arms, looking relatively untouched by the attack's force. His arms were bowed forth, with his palms clasped together, as if he had speared through the wave of destructive power itself.

"Me? I've just been bored out of my mind doing nothing but watch youngsters do what I could have been doing this whole time. I want to finally commit something to the effort of protecting the things I cherish," Roshi responded in an honest tone, separating his palms from each other and clenching them into fists with eagerness, "and if it means beating you, then I'll welcome the challenge!"

Kame House

Tien had to admit, he didn't expect this.

An enemy had nearly taken them by surprise, aiming for the destruction of their sole sanctuary and the Turtle Hermit's home. Her approach had been subtle, despite the flamboyant appearance she chose to adorn. This hit-woman, Flare, had a taste in facetious garments, reminding him all too well of a certain blonde girlfriend of his. While it was uncomfortable to look at her, the dark glare and cold smile adorning her face made it easy to ignore her womanly features.

"Chiaotzu," Tien uttered aloud, his eyes narrowed specifically at the enemy hovering not but six meters away, "I want you to stay back. I want to you keep an eye out for any other surprise guests lurking around."

"Right," Chiaotzu nodded. As he turned around, he grasped the edge of his straw hat to cover his facial features, conveying the seriousness he understood from his best friend, "be careful, Tien."

"I will," Tien said in a graveled tone, as his friend flew back overhead the rooftop of Kame House. As soon as he was away, Tien's face hardened further as he growled out a demanding inquiry, "who the Hell are you and why did you attack us?!"

"Easy there, Willis. Don't go all Die Hard on me just yet," Flare chuckled, adding with a disturbing lick to her lips as she raised her right hand up, clenching it tightly with dark emphasis, "I say when someone dies, hard or otherwise!"

"If anyone is dying, its going to be you!" Tien growled out, grasping the front of his robes in emphasis. That same grip was then used to pull it over his head in one swift motion, revealing his scarred yet muscular torso and ripped arms.

As Tien took the time to fold up his upper robes, Flare couldn't help but roll her eyes at the display, "Oh please. Don't tell me that's the weighted armor handicap that your green skinned friend used at the Tournament."

"You seem to know a lot about us," Tien spoke accusingly with an even tone, wrapping his robes one layer over the other.

"We know more than about your little group of vigilantes, triclops," Flare snorted, waving her arms to the side with grandiose emphasis, "we know a lot about this entire world, more than it knows itself! You'd be surprised how well connected we are."

"Interesting," Tien mused, a wry grin dawning upon his visage.

"What's with the smirk, tough guy?" Flare asked with a frown.

"I'm just thinking. If you know half as much as you brag about, then you probably won't mind us reading your mind," Tien proclaimed, tossing the ball of weighted linen from one hand to the other, his grin widening as he saw the glare deepening upon Flare's brow line, "not that we'll care what you mind. Its ours to read after I take you down."

"Exactly how do you, a lowly weakling, expect to take the likes of me on?!" Flare snarled in an incredulous tone.

Tien wordlessly stopped tossing his robe ball, letting it stop over his right palm. After a few seconds of silence, Tien's grin vanished into a scowl, as he threw the weighted bundle into the horizon. After a few long seconds, a dramatic effect was produced by the ball's impact into the distant body of water's surface.

A tidal wave seemed to manifest, one of magnanimous proportions, emphasizing the sheer explosive release of pressure of the robes. Even as the waves unfurled out from the tower uproar of water, Flare couldn't help but stare aghast. The sheer density of what Tien wore seemed almost unfathomable to her.

Funnily enough, the waves themselves brought cheers from the nearby Kame House's open windows.

"Holy smokes, Puar! Look at those waves!" Oolong shouted with excitement.

"Wow!" Puar floated up next to her shapeshifter friend, eyes opened wide and mouth hung open at what he saw.

"C'mon! Let's grab a board and hit up those waves while they last!" Oolong suggested, racing back into the living room of the small house, with Puar close behind.

As Puar followed Oolong outside, he could see Tien in the distance, but did not notice the stoic Chiaotzu who hovered above the home itself. Shouting aloud, he shook his smaller board with emphasis, "Hey, Tien! Want to go surfing with us!"

"You guys go on ahead," Tien thumbed towards the approaching wave casually, though his tone was anything but, "I have to take care of things here."

"Oh, okay," Puar said with slight trepidation, seeing the woman floating across from his triclopian friend. He uttered a low whisper as he took off after Oolong, "be careful!"

As Tien stood firmly in front of Flare, she slowly regained her confidence, shaking her head with disbelief as her smile spread with incredulity, "I don't know how you were able to wear that so comfortably, three eyes, but that isn't going to help you here. Physical power alone isn't going to do much against the likes of me."

Tien didn't respond verbally. Instead, his rebuttal came with a series of veins protruding across his skin as his muscles bulged under forced flexing. A deep rumbling could be heard in the back of his throat, all three of his eyes starting to glow faintly. But just like with his weighted robes, the release of his energy's maximum came about in a single instant.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Tien roared out magnificently, as a vibrant aura of white-hued energy ignited around his body with a magnanimous projection. Pressurized airwaves let loose a series of powerful shockwaves, causing Flare to raise her arms up to shield her eyes from the scathing wind and flashing light let loose in front of her.

When the shockwaves died down, Flare lowered her arms and stared with fright once again.

Tien's entire body ebbed a smooth, constantly ebbing aura of white light, his eyes glowing the same hue but producing energized tongues of fire around their hairless brows. And the energy, its sheer pressure and vault of power was undeniably stronger than what he was supposed to be. The agent of the Inner Circle couldn't believe the reports were wrong, especially about someone like him.

"Let me throw your words right back at you," Tien uttered in a guttural tone. His teeth bared and fists clenched with such intensity that audible snaps of his knuckles could be heard. Coupled with the glowing eyes and the mantle of power wrapped around his skin, one could see that the triclopian man was very irate.

"H-How can this be?!" Flare stuttered, still in denial of the power that faced her.

Tien didn't have the patience to answer.

Within a shimmering motion of superhuman speed, Tien crossed the gap between himself and his target swiftly. His left fist swung like a hammer, cracking into her exposed abdomen with merciless force. The impact itself cracked the air and ballooned itself with jettisoned airwaves from the point of contact on her body.

"Gak!" Flare gurgled out, with widened eyes of contorted pain, hunching over as her arms reached down to feel her body spasm with the unexpected blow.

"What can a weakling like you, do against someone like me?" Tien uttered in a mocking tone, his light-wreathed eyes staring down at her without pity.

Through the coughs as Flare hunched over from the punch, there could be heard a series of chuckles exiting her throat. As she turned upright to face Tien, her eyes glared with dark approval at Tien, with a wicked smile crossing her visage, "Oooooooh? I guess there are some advantages of being raised in the Crane School as opposed to the pacifistic Hermit School. Here I thought you wouldn't be able to fight me seriously cause I'm a woman."

"If there's one valuable lesson I learned from Master Shen, its that when someone is after your life there should be no distinction between the gender of your enemy," Tien muttered in a level tone, retracting his fist as he stood stoically, bathed by the constantly brimming light of his energy, "considering the amount of bloodlust I felt when you hurled that ball of fire earlier, I can wager that if I gave you a shred of mercy, you'd take full advantage of it. I've learned from my lesson against guys like Tao to know better than to trust my enemy's word."

"Smart man," Flare murmured, her eyes becoming overshadowed by her bangs. Within a heartbeat later, they widened with sadistic glee, as her right hand thrust towards his chest, "but it doesn't change the fact you're going to die!"

The knife-hand thrust's fingertips impacted a swiftly moving hand, one of which Tien used its backside to absorb the brunt of the blow imbuing his energy to disperse the shock. What he didn't count on was the erupting tongues of orange-red flames discharging from her hand, encompassing the defending digits with searing heat.

The three-eyed warrior swiftly pulled back, thrusting his free hand out to discharge a Kiai to send Flare soaring across the air, giving him some distance. Even as he did so, all pairs of eyes twitched, as the pain didn't go away on his hand. Looking down, he saw the ball of constantly burning tongues lick against his skin, eating away at his flesh and...

"Its burning my Ki?!" Tien thought aloud, loud enough for his enemy to hear much to his chagrin.

"That's right," She cackled out, raising her still-burning right hand up for emphasis, "I have the unique ability to discharge my Ki into a constantly burning fire. It devours everything in its path. Regardless of how much energy you possess, there's no way you can put it out-"

"HM!" Tien grunted with concentration, as the flames seemed to flicker with instability. In the next few seconds, what looked like a discharge of concussive force from the pores of his skin, the flames all but vanished. Even his intense aura seemed to die down, replaced by a non-lit muscular physique coupled with seared flesh along his right hand.

"Eh?!" Flare's eyes widened with shock, something she found seemed to happen more often than she liked. Raising her hand, shaking with confusion, she blurted out with indignation, "what the Hell did you do?!"

"You underestimate my eyes, Flare," Tien mouthed off with a smirk, ripping off the end of his sash to wrap it around his burnt skin, "even back during my youth, I could copy techniques and understand latent abilities of my opponents by just seeing it once. After my most recent bout of training, I found that my perception over all matter is at such a level that I can see the fabric of its makeup."

"So, it wasn't a coincidence that you used a shockwave to disperse my first attack," Flare mused, her smile darkening as she floated back another few meters from Tien.

"Your powers are deadly but unique. I'd find it a shame to destroy such a beautiful talented individual," Tien grated evenly, his eyes glaring at Flare with emphasis, "I'd suggest you walk away, or you may not like the outcome of this fight."

"Oh really?" Flare asked rhetorically, the flames that lit up along her hand now flourished across her fingers and up her arms. Within the coming seconds, the flames seem to endow the woman with a wraith visage. Her hair flowing upwards with orange-golden light, her eyes nothing but burning red that ebbed golden tongues across her sockets. Even her mouth seemed to billow a golden heat, as her whole body transmuted into one living entity of fire.

Tien's eyes widened with surprise, having never seen something so terrifying and unique. He could feel his skin sweat at the distance from him and the rippling fiery woman who aimed to take his life and his friends. Her dark laugh was the only thing he heard before she spoke with a promise that made him glare back with a vengeful spark in his triclopian eyes.

"If you can't handle a single touch of my flames, big man, how can you handle a whole fiery goddess?!" She asked incredulously, as her flames glistened brightly within the azure-hued sky.

"Careful, Tien," Chiaotzu whispered psychically, causing the three-eyed warrior to smile with renewed vigor.

"If you're so confident then," Tien asked, raising his cloth-bound right hand in beckoning towards Flare, smirking at her with renewed confidence, "why don't you show me just how scalding those flames of yours are."

Storage Location #3, 30 Miles East of West City

Edge felt himself understanding just what kind of enemies he was fighting. With all three of them coming at him at once, he felt a renewed confidence in himself since crossing blades with the woman on the truck. With all of them in plain sight his senses could decipher their intentions much sooner than before. And with his encirclement of blades surrounding them they couldn't run or escape from the vicinity of their safe hole. Nowhere to hide, the first to greet him was the one who had bested him when she released that eerily familiar power.

But here, he knew she couldn't use it.

Sidestepping a thrust for his covered eye, he responded in kind with a broad swing. Seeing her lower body lift itself up and carry her form with the momentum of her thrust only left him slightly baffled until he saw Yamcha rush forward. Swinging his sword out, he unleashed a volatile wave of Ki that came in the form of a trio cerulean wolf claws, forcing an inverted sword guard just to avoid death. After the ringing of metal defusing the harmful light, he briefly caught sight of the blonde woman swinging her fist from his left flank, unleashing a torrent of flames.

"Dammit!" Launch swore out loud as Edge leaped up high in the air, avoiding the head of fire that crashed into what looked to be an invisible wall above the sword ring. Blinking at the bizarre sight she heard the samurai descend upon her just as his shadow swallowed up the light overcasting her frame. Crossing her arms protectively over her head she felt her knees buckle at the force exerted in the chop, but held fast with her gauntlets slightly marred by the sword strike.

Leaping up as a pair, the one-eyed man saw both master and student pull back their weapons. Creating a pulse of Ki underneath his blade he pushed himself up and over the duo of sword swings that rang through the air with their pressured strokes. Both looked back at their missed target, earning a double flip kick from the twisting form of their enemy across their jaws. They tumbled in front of Launch's eyes, crashing into the air just above the sword hilts. What happened after that was a shocking pair of energy rebounded them, causing them to spasm during their bodies' fall into the sand a mere meter away.

"You bastard!" The fiery spirited blonde snarled out, turning on her heels to discharges rapid one-two punches. The gauntlets spat out fireballs, easily avoided by the swift moving swordsman, sending showers of glassed grains of sand all over. As one caught itself in the corner of one eye, she stumbled back raising one arm to swipe away the nuisance. By the time she wiped it away Edge had already appeared in front of her.

In a single uppercut motion, Launch felt a white hot pain erupt from a grievous wound inflicted on her chest between her breasts. She only felt the ability to stand and return the favor by launching a roundhouse kick because of the armored lining in her jacket dampening the blow. Afterwards she felt gasped for breath and felt a wetness seep through her cut jacket, pouring onto the sand below her.

"Damn, that hurt," Launch swore upon falling to one knee, using one of her spare arms to clench at her gaping chest wound.

"I'm surprised by your endurance, especially for just being a woman with glorified weapons to compensate," Edge tutted as his blade carved into the sandy ground beside him, slowly approaching her as its tip carved into the disheveled ground. Before her dizzy gaze she saw the blade catch fire, crawling up the sword's length to the tsuba. When the tongues were sucked by an invisible field within the weapon, the tool glowed white and emanated a hazy aura around it. "but don't worry. This next attack will leave no trace of you."

Not seeing the two get up, Launch knew it was up to her to hold on until one of them could recover. Looking down at her covered left hand still dripping with blood, she knew she had only two choices. Fight or Die.

With just mental input, the gauntlet turned it on and dragged it over her wound. A loud scream ripped out of her throat causing the swordsman to stop dead in his tracks. Caught off guard by the act of self mutilation he hadn't seen a woman disregard her own bodily appearance as readily as she did. When a smell of burnt flesh entered the air Launch shakily stood to her feet, glaring hotly at Edge.

"You cauterized your own wound by hand!" The Circle Agent declared with blinking shock out of his own eye.

"If I...got nothing to lose...then I might as well go all out," Launch panted with every breath, feeling the pain of the wound be replaced with the dark brown scar still steaming from above her navel to between her barely contained breasts. Grabbing the hem of her torn shirt and jacket, she tossed those over her shoulder, leaving her completely exposed before the now flabbergasted swordsman. Taking care to grasp the ribbon wrapped around her crown, she tied the meek apparel to wrap around her busty chest, making a knot behind her back. With renewed confidence at her offset enemy, she smashed her gauntlet knuckles together hard enough to quake the sand around them. "I got nothing to lose now, One-Eye."

Edge was practically beside himself. While Maron had a fairly voluptuous form herself, Launch's figure put hers to shame especially with a band barely longer than his thumb crossing over such large mammaries. When her fists ground against each other, he swore he saw them bounce. Closing his eye, he tried to distract himself from the visual splendor that was the curly blonde locked goddess.

Before he could properly adjust himself to the sight of the temptress he heard a sudden explosive roar happen. Opening his eye he was greeted with Launch's head slamming into his defenseless sternum.

"Gaugh!" He croaked out, barely stabbing his white colored blade into the ground to stop his backward crash into the barrier he created. With its potent absorption and dispersal properties he could be left temporarily inert just as the other two learned the hard way. Raising his head up, he saw her with one hand outstretched while the other was held back, projecting a torrent of flames that carried her quickly to his vicinity.

His movement felt off when he narrowly deflected the golden punch, causing a bright dispersal of sparks between the two. Growling he spun around her raising his sword to cut her down only to meet the brace the gauntlet was made of. From his awkward concentration he left himself open to a kick to his knee, drawing himself forward into a stumble and right into a left set of gauntlet covered knuckles right into his face that carried into an arcing uppercut. Teeth flew from his mouth as a purplish bruise formed instantly across his face followed by an elliptical shaped explosion of fire that sent him high up into the air.

"My reaction time has...slowed," Edge realized as he felt his ascension slow up into the sky, "her sexual charms and...feisty attitude...have left my body sluggish in step. I can't beat her conventionally. I must-"

"TAKE THIS YOU UGLY FUCK!"

Edge's eyes widened at hearing Launch's cry, soon muffled out by an overwhelming glow of orange swallowing up his view of the blue sky. Turning over to look down below he saw an enormous pillar of flames rush up to meet him, overcoming him in a tidal wave of agony induced tongues. His own cry in outrage was muted from the blaze that filled the blonde, as well as the waking Maron and Yamcha's, vista of the sky.

"What did I miss?" Yamcha blinked, watching Edge's ravaged form descend, crashing into the sand beside the storage pit.

Gasping out loud, Maron cried out in childish dismay, "My friend!"

"Are you still-gah!" The scar-faced ex-bandit felt dust wash up into his mouth, spitting it out as Maron practically leaped the gap to see Edge's condition. Meanwhile he looked over and saw Launch on her back, heaving heavily from exertion. He wondered how she did it; that was until she stood up in a practically exposed way. Letting out a startled squeal, the infamous thief turned to look over a blushing Yamcha as he raised his arms to cover his eyes. "what the Hell, Launch?!"

"What's the matter, Yamcha? Haven't you seen Maron bare-chested enough to get used to this," Launch asked with a cheeky grin, only slightly wincing at the sensation of her recently broiled skin.

"Th-Th-That's not the point!" The dark tressed man shouted incredulously, writhing on the ground with his sword dangerously close and unsheathed beside him. "just because Bulma stripped to get her way doesn't mean you had to follow suit! Please just cover up!"

"You want my shirt?" Maron asked idly, still poking Edge's seemingly still body, still crackling from orange embers surrounding his exposed flesh.

"THAT WON'T HELP THINGS, MARON!" Yamcha cried out, his body bowing up from the ground with indignation.

"Then give me your shirt," Launch offered with an outstretched hand.

"You will NOT have MY shirt!" Yamcha indignantly turned around and looked the opposite way in a cross-legged squat, arms crossed.

"Tch, sissy," Launch shrugged with a grin, stumbling a step forward until she righted herself again.

"Launch?" Maron asked with a tilt of her head, now looking concerned back at her friend.

"I'm fine, I...I guess I now know what Tien felt like when Tao cut him on the chest," Launch hissed as she tenderly placed a hand over the marred scar vertically over her front.

"We should get you to Dende's," Yamcha suggested, keeping one hand cupped over her eyes as he stood up with sword in hand, "he should be able to fix that up. He's crazy good at healing."

Before Launch could retort, an unearthly shift was felt underneath their feet. Two times afterwards, and then five times, it soon became a rapid drumbeat. Maron shuffled back on her heels at the sight that came up from the earth. Golden flames emerged from Edge's body, soon culminating in a pair of hazy aired orange-red flames emerging from his bare back. The burnt skin seemed to recede, replaced by bubbling magma coming up from his pores that formed new cells and covered his tender form. When the patch fell away in a fiery plume, his left eye shined a bright golden hue while his right stared on with an emerald gleam of intensity. His once black hair was consumed in the fire of restoration, becoming a bright glowing red that danced with vibrant animation in response to the high output of Ki.

The Ki pressure rattled the swords embedded into the sand all around them. As the three stood fast before him, Maron's eyes stared mesmerized at what truly stood before her gaze. Yamcha's teeth ground with angry frustration and Launch smiled halfway at seeing the man whom she thought she ended was standing back up again. It was truly a terrifying ordeal for all of them to experience.

"Congratulations, Three Star Bandits," Edge announced in a deeper, resonant tone while his discolored eyes glared at them all with new found determination, "you have awakened the Phoenix within me. Now you all will perish before my blade and your ashes spilled into your godforsaken loot. Such is the fate for all those who believe crime pays!"

The Lookout

He finally made it.

After remaining in a discreet mode of travel across the forestland that surrounded the legendary Korin Tower, Ningai found himself being able to traverse the steep incline with little problem. The always alert keeper of Korin Tower's base never even noticed him, as he slipped through their periphery senses like a passing leaf. Climbing up the vertical aligned monument was more of a warm-up exercise than a challenge.

He briefly had hide once again, due to the low-class deity Korin himself was out and about on the balcony. Ningai could only presume that his limited omnipotence allowed him to sense the turmoil his allies were facing by his own comrades. It didn't bother him, just like most day-to-day reports of the dispatching commandos had to do in order to keep their objectives hidden from the world. What's a handful of lives in comparison to the billions that presided over this planet?

Reaching the top of Korin's tower, Ningai found himself looking up at the large gap of space between himself and the Lookout above.

"Objective in sight," Ningai thought to himself, allowing himself to bask in the moment before his real mission began. His red-bordered, black kimono flourished along with his equally red-lined black hair that draped over his shoulders and partially covered his left eye. The dark eye-shadowed eyes narrowed, as his lips twisted with nervous anticipation and his black nailed fingers rubbed nervously against each other.

He knew that the Lookout wasn't completely abandoned. The last satellite report dictated that the emerald skinned guardian and the former guardian himself both took off to different directions. With the latter gone, Ningai was a bit more assured with his success, but the assistant and keeper of the sacred grounds was still present. The IC agent had no intel, with only a little regarding his past as a martial artist teacher for Goku during his youth. He didn't know what to assume from him, and he prepared to fight in the event he was discovered.

"Too late for doubts. I must commence with the mission," Ningai thought, as he crouched down in preparation for his jump. With a swift leap, he rapidly approached the underside of the Lookout, meeting it with both outstretched hands. His fingers clamped onto spaces next to an open hole slot, presumably something that used to connect to the top of Korin Tower. Using his energy, he stuck to the overhead surface like a spider would, using his feet to scramble up along the dish-shaped monument to the outward precipice. Within half a minute, he reached the edge of the Lookout, pulling himself up with a forward flip to land in a perfectly erect stance, "infiltration, complete."

He took in his bearings, and observed the large tiled surface of the sanctified observatory. Everything appeared to be peaceful, serene, with rows of trees facing the golden-domed Lookout's interior structure. A few rows of flowers were between him and his mission priority. That is, him and a black skinned genie.

"W-What?!" Ningai thought with alarm, recoiling suddenly near the edge of the Lookout, his eyes staring at the humming creature who poured water over the beautiful petals lining up the tiled ground, "I didn't feel his presence at all. I took into the fact that aside from the Namekian known as Piccolo, the other two had significantly lower levels of energy. But I watched them both go away, so I assumed that the keeper had went to sleep. It appears he doesn't rest when no one but himself takes care of the grounds."

Regaining his composure, he silently shuffled his feet across the tiles, aiming to move towards his blind spot. If he snuck past him and at least infiltrated the residential quarters of the Guardian, he might be able to leave without any form of confrontation being required.

"Hello there, traveler," Popo's eloquent, low voice suddenly called out. Ningai noted that he did so, without him halting his watering of the plants in front of him, "what brings you to the Lookout?"

"T-Traveler?" Ningai thought with perplexion, blinking a few times, his feet spreading in preparation for a conflict, "does he mean that...he thinks I'm a pilgrim? I never heard of any custom of that sort being promoted for the Lookout. Then again, I hadn't been fully debriefed on its history or past customs. We hardly know anything of the Guardians who lived here, let alone their impact on the rest of the world."

Popo halted his watering long enough to turn his smiling, eerie visage towards Ningai. His legs were folded over each other and he seemed to actually be resting on a carpet, hovering a few inches off the ground. His right hand continued to meticulously water the colorful plants as he turned his attention to the guest. Inquiring, blank eyes stared non-blinking towards Ningai as he inquired hospitably, "May I inquire your business here, good sir?"

Ningai narrowed his eyes, his hands sliding within the inner folds of his kimono sleeves. He never felt obligated to speak or was commanded to do so. As long as the objective was fulfilled, that was enough for him.

The smile on Popo turned into a frown, his head cocking to the side with confusion, "Are you not able to speak? It is polite to state one's intentions, when one enters someone else's home."

"I have no intention of speaking to you," Ningai thought vehemently, his fingers sliding through the holes of several select objects within his sleeves.

"Is that so?" Popo answered verbally, causing Ningai to take a step back in recoiling fright.

"H-He read my mind? Impossible!" Ningai panicked internally.

"Of course. Many advanced martial artists can read the surface of one's thoughts, as a way to communicate without dropping their guard. Aren't you, the one who climbed up Korin's Tower, capable of such a feat?" Popo inquired innocently.

"Damn! How long has he been aware of my approach while pretending to water those plants?!" Ningai thought incredulously, his visage grimacing with irritation and frustration.

"Well?" Popo straightened his head, blankly staring at him as he asked, "still not interested in talking?"

"Enough questions!" Ningai thought in cohesion with a blurring swing of his sleeve-covered hand. Four star-shaped shurikens flew through the air, whistling as their speed flew with an unnatural velocity behind them, guided by the Ki laced within their substance by Ningai himself, "I'll silence you before you can alert the others!"

Before the projectiles could meet their mark, they seemed to disappear halfway, vanishing as a blur of white and purple moved in between Popo and Ningai.

"What just hap-NNNGH?!" Ningai thought, just before he found an emerald-hued fist strike his his jaw, hurtling him across the expanse of the Lookout. His body tumbled head over heels, finally flipping himself up to a skidding halt in a crouch. A dribble of blood leaked from the right corner of his mouth, as Ningai glowered at the new foe he had to face.

What walked towards him caused his blood to go cold and his brain to buzz with confusion.

A white caped, violet gi, leather sandal, and turban toting being stood between himself and Popo. Distinctive pointy ears and the emerald skin made it no mistake that it was Piccolo, not the young Guardian, who just punched him just now. It further proven he stopped the Shurikens, as they spun harmlessly between four outstretched digits in his right hand. What was strange, however was that he didn't feel any energy that he could sense emitting off its person and he was masked. The mask itself was wooden, painted to resemble a sinisterly wide smile, with red-yellow eyes and vampiric fangs. It certainly gave the silent protector of the Lookout's keeper.

"It doesn't explain how I had a distinct report of the one called Piccolo flying off almost the same time as the Guardian did. There aren't any briefings prior to this of there being other Namekians-" Ningai began to rationalize internally before stopping himself short.

"You seem to know a lot about foreign species and my friends' names, despite you yourself being a human outsider," Popo spoke up behind the Namekian bodyguard, his impassive visage having not wavered since before, "if you could kindly tell me why you are here, then please do so. Otherwise, my friend here will have to escort you off the premises."

"Arrogant creature. If you want to play it that way," Ningai thought, rearing back both arms in preparation, "I'll just tear apart that precious Namekian right before your eyes!"

As if on cue, the masked Piccolo rushed forward, silently and swiftly. His form appearing in an instantaneous blur, thrusting a fist right into Ningai's chest, whom had seemed to fade upon the knuckles making contact.

Ningai flipped over the charging masked Piccolo, his feet arching up and over like a pendulum, landing just behind his caped backside. Twisting around on his heels, Ningai thrust out a palm-heel towards his enemy's skull, only to find him twisting into a sudden crouching maneuver. A brown leather foot thrust up to kick Ningai in the jaw, narrowly grappled by the human assailant with his free left hand. As a second foot thrust upwards, Ningai retracted his outstretched hand to grasp the other foot.

What he didn't expect, was the sudden eruption of concussive Ki from the soles of the masked Piccolo's feet. It caused spittle and breath to exhale from his mouth, his body pinwheeling across the Lookout's airspace. An outstretched arm of his caught onto one of the palm trees planted near the edge of the Lookout's tiled grounds, keeping him from falling off floating monument. Twisting around with the given momentum, Ningai propelled himself to spin back towards a charging masked Piccolo's chest, double-kicking him back a good few meters.

Despite the audible crack his feet made against the being's chest, it deftly performed a backflip, landing in a crouched fighter's stance.

As Ningai landed just opposite of him, he gritted his teeth at the masked entity silently appraising him. Even he, as a person who loathed to talk, found the lack of dialogue from an enemy more grating than the genie's mental prodding. He almost felt compelled to speak just to break the air of awkwardness.

"There is no question about it. This is an advanced version of the Multi-Form technique. I only know a few within the organization who practice such a flawed technique and make something tactful out of it. But this...this is a whole new league of mastery. It can take hits that I know would flatten a Saiyan, but doesn't seem to be phased by any form of pain. That and the emission of Ki is so flawless that I cannot possibly feel it, not even with my sensory skills," Ningai contemplated, dismissing the keeper's psychic prowess of reading his foremost thoughts.

Ningai calmed himself. He pushed all doubts out of his head and focused solely on his body. He listened to his heartbeat, inhale and exhalation through his nostrils, the shifting of his feet against the cool tiled grounds. Clasping his hands together, he entwined all digits with exception of his forefingers, raising them to vertically divide his facial features.

"Remember what Ryu-dono taught you. Remember your purpose. Remember to do nothing but act!" Ningai inwardly monotoned, repeating it like a mantra within his mind even as his hands separated, and his feet kicked off the tiled floor. With his arms held back, the black-red linen flourished back along with his black hair, his eyes blankly glaring at the masked enemy of his.

When the masked Piccolo charged as well, their movements seemed to be equally precise. A flurry of punches, thrusts, and kicks were exchanged, hardly leaving a disturbance within the air other than the audible impacts they made through bare contact. Popo watched with intrigue, as he noticed just how calm Ningai's energy was, and how his thoughts kept repeating over and over, as if they were looping on a pre-recorded tape.

"This man has incredible mental discipline and mastery over his energy. Much like the swordsman I felt down far below, the excess Ki he projects is almost non-existent. He can match his opponent's moves now, and find a weakness that will allow him to gain the upper hand," Popo thought to himself, as he watched with curiosity.

The dance continued on for what seemed like forever. Ningai lost track of time, as his mind was laid into a trance, his body moving purely on instinct and heightened sensory. Every redirection of his target's limb was turned into a grapple, then a grapple break, and then a mesh of two mutual impacting limbs, before it would restart anew.

Through the fifth dozenth blow, he finally found an opening.

Ningai ducked beneath a punch, crossing his sleeves over each other, his body crouching within the masked Piccolo's defensive space. With a sudden lunge, his head struck the mask with a crack, pushing back his opponent just long enough for his forearms to blur out in arcing gestures towards the emerald skinned warrior. Persistently, the masked Piccolo kicked out, before Ningai swung a sleeved limb over it as he sidestepped away, twisting around towards his backside to bend forward with his exposed limbs held out in a executed finishing move.

With the sleeved folded back, Popo could see a pair of retractable blades about three feet long with double edges, extended from two metallic scabbards that were bound with leather harnesses over Ningai's arms. As they grated back with a near silent click, the results of his attacks were made known.

The body of the masked Piccolo seemed to be seamlessly severed at every point. Digits, forearms, upper arms, ankles, calves, thighs, and even the waist and neck were all perfectly bifurcated, allowing the body parts to fall to the ground with a wet impact.

Ningai allowed breath to flow out heavily, as the haze from his head finally cleared. But as he inspected his visible hands, he knew that he had come out victorious, and the keeper's bodyguard had been eliminated.

"You were a tough enemy, to force me to induce my Killing State," Ningai internally admitted, turning around to inspect the remains of his enemy, "but in the end, I was the better ma-ma-ma-mAAAAAAAAAAAAH?!"

Ningai recoiled with sudden alarm, seeing the masked entity for what he was. Brown, cracked flesh resembling clay leaked water from where the severed body parts were. The mask itself slipped off, revealing nothing but a faceless visage, showing that Ningai had been fighting nothing more than a fake the entire time.

Sighing, Popo shook his head, "It still isn't as ready as I hoped it would be. I still need to modify it more properly."

"W-What the Hell was I just fighting?!" Ningai glowered downwards, turning a visible glaring eye towards Popo's blank orbs.

"That is a Doll I crafted, mimicking the power and abilities that of Piccolo during his last trip into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber," Popo explained, setting down his watering pot, before standing attentively with hands folded behind his back to turn his full attention to Ningai, "I've been working on a more effective defense for the Lookout, you see, so your arrival was an impeccable opportunity to test its capabilities. As you can tell, it stills needs work."

"A...Doll?!" Ningai thought incredulously.

"Precisely," Popo smiled, raising a hand up as he readily explained, "but don't feel bad. When I first had the first prototype out, it was much weaker and Goku himself couldn't be-"

Ningai appeared within an instant, a livid expression crossing his previously calm visage, showing just how enraged he was. In mid-air he swung both arms out in blurred black linen arcs, ejecting the retracted blades from their mechanical sheathes to decapitate the Lookout's keeper. But the parallel slashes never made it to their marks.

A single, pudgy black forefinger was upraised, halting the blades severing motion. A slew of sparks sprayed from making contact by the Ki-imbued digit, having enough strength to keep back Ningai's forward momentum perfectly still in the air. Like a pair of scissors stuck against a pillar of iron, Ningai's airborne frame continued to push and pressure against the finger harder.

"You don't have the strength to win. Please surrender with your honor intact," Popo spoke in a calm, practical tone.

"What would YOU know of my HONOR?!" Ningai snarled within his mind, a grimacing bared toothed expression crossing his face. In the following seconds, bioelectric tendrils snaked down his blades, causing a flourishing of azure-white energy to crack and flow around them. It expanded, causing howling air currents to flow across the Lookout's foundation, as if it was the center of a storm.

A few seconds later, the blades snapped. As they broke against the pudgy forefinger, an explosion of pent-up Ki was released, causing Ningai to jettison backwards within the air. Head over heels, he narrowly landed on both feet, causing the tiles beneath his sandal-covered toes to crack. He looked angry, confused, and incredulously disbelieving at what occurred.

"I...I couldn't overpower him? He's not even supposed to be a threat! What is he-?!" Ningai's thoughts trailed on, just before his eyes lost track of the Lookout's keeper. It looked as if he phased out of all sensory detection, his carpet and his body. His eyes turned left and right, desparate to trail his enemy's movements.

A jab to his forehead, brought his eyes forward, before they rolled to the back of his skull. His body felt limp and unconsciousness took him swiftly, landing with a thud onto his back.

Retracting his right forefinger, Popo sighed, clicking his tongue with sadness as he looked around the Lookout's surface, "What an incredible fighter. He sure created a mess of the Lookout. I'll have to clean it all up. My work is ceaseless, I swear!"

Approximately 50 Miles south of West City

Gohan finally made it. The landscape looked much bleaker than he had imagined. While the wasteland crawled on for miles in a rocky, dry grass, and scrub oak smattering, a deathly gray oval of land conspicuously announced it's presence as the Saiyan flew overhead. Touching down on the circle, Gohan felt a chill go down his spine. All along his way to the airfield Yamcha, Launch, and Maron came from with their ill-gotten goods, the landscape of Ryuchi boasted vibrant energy pulse that Gohan felt through his extrasensory perception. The land practically had a heartbeat indicating its healthy state. Even in West City, Gohan could feel the Ki of all the living things and non-living filling the air with its essence of life.

But in this ashen dust, Gohan felt nothing.

Not a trace of Ki could be sensed.

"Who...who could have done this?" the teenage Saiyan asked to no one. Even in the villages he had seen destroyed on Namek, the faintest remnants of Ki were present from the grasses and Namekian bodies as their lives waned. He even could sense the Ki around the Cell Games arena even after Cell had cleared the land for his mock Tenka'ichi Budokai tournament. But walking through this...land graveyard, it was as though nothing had existed here at all.

"Damn, how can I find a clue in this? There's not even a scrap from the plane, let alone a body of one of the guards," Gohan growled out. He dashed the length of the field nearly 3 times, and he still found nothing. Canvasing the area did no good as he found the same empty picture no matter where he went.

Falling back in resignation, Gohan stared up at the clear blue sky overhead. He closed his eyes and let out an exasperated breath. "'I'm the only one who can possibly find some sort of trace' I say. 'Don't need to know anything about the base' I say. 'Breadcrumb trail back from where it was shi-'"

Gohan sat straight up. How could he have forgotten? He used his ki sense to find this location, why couldn't he do the same to find the location of the plane? The young Saiyan closed his eyes, meditating in the midst of the ashen wastes. In his mind's eye, the landscape was a dull grey like static while the rest of the world overflowed with radiance in its Ki signature. The Ki emanating from the area surrounding the former airfield forced beads of sweat out of the focused Saiyan. Within the dead circle, not a trace of Ki was to be found.

Except for a small faint trail.

Gohan narrowed his gaze at the faint red trail of Ki wafting in the air. It's heading...southwest...No, west southwest. Towards...China. The Saiyan stood from his meditation spot and took to the air, following after the one clue the Z Fighters had about their enemy.

To Be Continued: Chapter 19 - Return of Old Enemies