Nappa tried to pound through the steel door that cut him off from Vegeta. He couldn't understand why he threw him away, why he cut himself off to fight all those enemies alone, but he knew he needed his help. They already had Broly, he wasn't about to let them take another one of his sons.
But no matter how much he tried, it was pointless. His fists only left dents in the wall, not enough to break through, and when he charged up his ki it felt like the wall was only getting stronger. All he had to show from a series of howling blows to the door were broken bloodied knuckles, and an enemy that was getting further away each second.
He could either continue trying to save Vegeta, or catch the enemy who took Broly away.
He knew what the correct choice was, Vegeta was the strongest saiyan in the universe, they didn't need his help. The Prince would have the entire enemy force wiped out in under a minute, then he'd catch up to him and mock him for being such a foolish old man.
Nappa gave Vegeta the same familiar trail he always did by stomping into the ground, found Mireau's ki signature, and sprinted after him.
He couldn't get away, he wouldn't let him get away, he needed to save them. This mission was going to hell fast; Kakarot was possibly a traitor, Raditz could be dead from fighting an opponent way out of his league, Broly was captured or killed, and Vegeta was in for the toughest fight of his life if those power levels he'd read were correct.
That was the worst part about this mission, the worst part about any mission as far as Nappa was concerned, the ambiguity of it all. It was supposed to be that they came to a planet, turned on their scouters, killed nearly everyone there, made examples of those who fought back, and then claimed the planet. Backstabbing, puzzles, weird tech and magic mumbo jumbo, the return of the tuffles, a good mission didn't have the time to worry about all of that.
So Nappa simplified the mission down for himself; the enemy was trying to take his family away when they were about to start a new life together. These tuffles insulted not only his pride by deciding to come back after losing the first war, but were trying to destroy his world by killing everyone who mattered in it.
As he sped past doors that closed behind him and took a right at a fork in the tracks to continue chasing Mireau, something occurred to him, he was the only saiyan left alive who even remembered the war.
Everyone who he fought with that first time around, everyone who helped them found Planet Vegeta, they were all gone now. He was the only one left to carry their legacy, and he would be the one to finish the final battle of a war they thought had ended a lifetime ago. He wasn't fighting just for his new family, but for King Vegeta, Kollard, Speargus, Cumber, Bellep, Paragus, all of his fellow saiyans, even Bardock. If he lost here, then everything they fought for would be for nothing.
He wiped away the blood leaking through his eyepatch as his wound reopened, and stared ahead.
He was gaining on Mireau now, they had taken damage from their fight earlier, and it was finally starting to wear on them. The slithering shapeshifting tuffle had taken the form of a snake and was getting slower, but Nappa's adrenaline only made him faster, his vision tunneling into one goal, to kill every tuffle and get his family off of this planet.
He was within arms reach of his decades old rival, and decided it was time to end things.
As they came to a platform in the subway, Nappa dove to catch thetTuffle, but they still had tricks left up their sleeve. Arms emerged from the snake's sides and they pulled themselves up onto the platform as they shifted back into their original form,narrowly dodging Nappa, and leaving him stumbling down the tracks.
Boards broke and metal was peeled backwards as Nappa surfed chest first down the tracks, but his anger drove off any pain he felt.
The wounded saiyan heard a gust of wind so loud that it felt like a train had come through the building, then silence.
By the time he got up and onto the subway platform, Mireau was gone. Nappa was left standing on a platform made of concrete with the only ways out barred by the same type of steel doors that had blocked him off from Vegeta in the subway.
"Where did you go you damn coward?!" Nappa shouted as he ran to the door.
They thought they could outsmart him, but he'd been at this just as long as they had. He walked to the left of the door, punched it as hard as he could, and figured out in the exact second he felt his knuckle split open that they had in fact thought to line the walls with the strange chrome metal, not just the door.
As he nursed his fist by pressing it to his lips, he realized there was something strange on the right hand side of the door, a palm sized screen. It must've been one of those doohickeys some of the more advanced planets had, you put your hand on it, it scanned who you were, and let you through. If only he had had a chance to rip that damn Tuffle's hand off, he could get through here with no problem.
He looked down at the pad, put his hand on it, and sighed when it buzzed red. Of course it did.
He stumbled to his side for a moment, then regained his balance. Losing his eye against Mireau, breaking his shoulder on the train, and now shattering his knuckles on one hand while the other was fractured, he had to admit that this wasn't exactly going to plan. Now that the worst thing possible for a warrior was happening, slowing the pace.
He was standing on some grid with glyphs on it, but who had time to worry about decorations?
If he was just going off of the fuel of battle that was one thing, he'd be swinging until he dropped dead, as any good saiyan would, but pausing the fight meant a lot. It meant giving the pain a moment to speak up, letting the injuries work their way into his mind.
But he didn't care what his body had to say about any of it, his mission was more important than any of that.
He slammed his palm on the screen again, but the result didn't change.
"I've had enough of this," Nappa said. The scanner wasn't made of chrome.
He charged ki into his fractured hand and punched through the scanner with a satisfying explosion of glass and flames.
He felt the volts of electricity surging through his body but kept his grip tight on the wires as he wrapped them around his hands and tugged. The door was beginning to spasm, jerking left and right, he just needed to get it to hold for a second and he could push it the rest.
He could smell the smoke coming off of the machine and ignored it as a minor inconvenience. His skin felt like it was being soaked in magma, the door was sliding open, and he had his fingers curled around its edge.
Just as he let go of the machine's wires he heard the sound of a large gust of wind coming from above him. He looked up and saw that above him was not another panel of concrete, but a steel vent.
When the gust hit him it felt like he was nothing but grains of sand, his entire being wiped away in a breeze that spread him to the winds. He lost consciousness before he could fall to the ground.
His vision faded away for only a moment, but when it returned to him he was in a different room, one that was dome shaped and filled with the obvious signs that he'd reached the enemy headquarters. But then why was he on his back?
He was a warrior, warriors didn't just show up at the enemy's base of operation, they barged in. He was supposed to kick in the doors, give them one moment to surrender before he blew them to smithereens regardless, and then warm his hands on the flames of his victory.
Instead, he heard a girl laughing at him. "Oh," they said, "did the pathetic saiyan finally wake up?"
Nappa staggered to his feet with a stumble and shook his head to get read of the specks in his vision as he stood. Something was wrong, he must've been poisoned by that vent and they had done the most disrespectful thing that could ever be done to a saiyan warrior, taking them hostage.
There were three of them around a floating sphere with hundreds of images spread on it, and he didn't recognize any of them. An old man who was dressed like the same scientists he had killed decades ago, a woman who looked like she had just come out of the gym, and another one who looked like they had just come back from outer space. They were tuffles and that was all that mattered.
The one who mattered, the one who needed to die, was standing on the opposite side of the room with his scythe in hand, standing next to a large steel door.
"The Great General Nappa," The old scientist said with barely contained mirth, "you have two choices for how your final battle will go, how would you like to proceed?"
Nappa used his one good eye to look at the new trio, then back to Mireau. "You've got about five seconds before I kill everyone in this room, so whichever gets that done the easiest works for me. You trying to go all at once or one at a time?" Nappa tried to wipe the newly pooling blood of his eye away again, but his bloodied knuckles just made more of a smeared mess across his face. "All that running around wore my patience out, so I guess I'll just wrap this up."
Nappa gathered energy in his hand and the scientist raised one hand in protest.
Funny, the guy thought his opinion mattered for some reason.
Nappa threw his blast square at the scientist, only for it to be caught by the girl who looked like she had come to fight.
She had to strain to do it, grunting loudly as the blast pushed her back, but she managed to successfully throw it into the chrome floor, where it dissipated immediately and left the floor with a glowing shine.
"How many times have I told you, Barry?! You're not meant to fight!" The scientist shouted.
"Well sorry I want to make sure you survive," she said.
"I have countermeasures, I was going to show him the futility of -"
Nappa clapped his hands to get their attention and to help keep himself awake. Whatever gas they had hit him with had was doing a number on him.
"I don't give a crap about whatever you were going to show me, it's the final fight. The last battle that matters. I know you tuffles are pretty good at losing those, but ya gotta at least try to pay attention to them." He did have to admit he was impressed with Barry, she hadn't taken her eyes off of him for a moment. She may have been born and bred as a tuffle, but she had battle sense, and a pretty high power level too. She'd make mincemeat of Raditz and Broly, but she'd be a pretty good warm up for him.
"Not even if your fellow soldiers were about to die?" The scientist sounded almost bored as he asked the question and pointed to the sphere. "Come, get a closer look at what's on the screen."
Nappa was slow to move forward, trying to make sure that each step looked like he was invincible, that he was the unbeatable general that they should fear, but cracks in his image were beginning to form. He was down an eye, one of his hands was broken and the other wasn't looking much better, he had burn wounds up and down his arms, and he'd been drugged and captured.
Back when he was a boy, before they even let you do your first Prekku, they had endurance competitions. It was one thing to lose a match, but another thing completely to look like a sniveling baby while doing it. He'd never cried in a fight, and he wasn't about to start now, but the arrogant look of all those filthy tuffles told him they expected him to at any moment now.
All of them except Mireau, who watched on solemnly.
Nappa looked at the TV and nearly stumbled in shock as all of the hundreds of images switched to only two things: Vegeta's bloodied and battered body stumbling through an empty tunnel, and Kakarot and Raditz going through a laboratory with two tuffles and the big fuzzy creature from before.
"Now Nappa, how vulnerable would you say these three look right now?" The scientist said.
Nappa said nothing, he just watched Vegeta's legs carry him, one drudging step after the other, all signs of consciousness gone as his blood dripped from his thrashed body.
The camera panned in the room Kakarot and Raditz were in, showing there were more vents like the one that had knocked Nappa out than he could count. Around the two saiyans were spinning metal spheres covered in eyes, the exact same size as the beast.
The scientist tapped on his desk, looking at Nappa as he hovered a finger over his keyboard. "I can either press this key, gas the room those two saiyans are in and release the apes, they beat the two to death before they can even respond, and then send them to kill the prince, or you can hear our offer. The choice is yours, general."
Nappa stepped towards the sphere and put a palm on a monitor showing Vegeta. This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to protect the prince. That was the only job he had and he had failed it. No, he was only failing it right now, this could be stopped if he made the right choice right now, if he could get them out of here and save each of his sons, he didn't care what it took.
"What's the offer?" Nappa said.
"There's two: Either you submit yourself and your comrades to tuffle experimentation, or you duel Mireau to the death right now." The scientist leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his stomach, becoming more casual as he saw the color leave Nappa's face. "None of you would be harmed under the experimentation, at least not to the point of death, and nothing like what I've heard Frieza treats you as. You'd be collared, powerless, invaluable test subjects for the future of the galaxy, part of the revival of tuffles across the galaxy, taking back the destiny you all stole from us hundreds of years ago."
"We … We didn't steal anything from you," Nappa's grip tightened on the monitor. "You just lost, that's the cost of any battle. It was a cost you all didn't care about as long as you were winning, we finally decided to rise up and you play the victim. We had to make sure we had a planet, a future!"
The scientist put his finger back on the keyboard. "We were in a golden age and you snuffed it out. You ended it out of jealousy, over the fact that your people of primitives and barbarians couldn't make the most of the situation you had put yourself in after we let you live on our planet for generations."
"We didn't put ourselves into a situation, you forced us to live in the wastelands from the moment we landed! Did ya think we were enjoying living in mountains of sand?!"
The doctor leaned back in his chair, almost flippant as he spoke, "and who did you think let you on that planet? Why were you running to our planet in the first place? You saiyans destroyed your own home planet, and we let you live on yours. You killed the only people who would take pity on you. Our ancestors should've shot trash like you out of space before we even let you on the planet and done the whole universe a favor."
"That wasn't what you all were saying when you had us defending your planet, building your cities, you're all just a bunch of two faced bastards! Only regret I have is not making sure you all died the first time!"
The scientist opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed his words. His growing agitation was clear, but he had to make one last appeal. "Nappa, if you and your friends work with us, we can destroy the Cold Empire. By fusing different creatures' DNA from across the galaxy, I have been able to make soldiers of a strength you can barely comprehend, but this is just the beginning. I had collected some samples of saiyans from my days in the war, but those have all run out now, and the samples I had left were questionable at best.
The remainder of our people have been traveling the galaxy in enclaves called 'The Spores' for years, trying to hide as we rebuild our power, and we've seen more than you can imagine. Why do you think Frieza destroyed your planet? It was because he could sense your people's power and he feared it! But it needs to be balanced out. It's too chaotic, too irrational, but if we work together, we can form a being the likes of which we can scarcely imagine. So, will you join us, avenge your people, and bring balance to the galaxy?"
Nappa took less than a second to respond. "The only avenging I'm going to be doing is stomping your head into the floor, and avenging the memory of everyone who died in our war for you even askin' me something that stupid."
"Dad," The woman who deflected his blast said, "why are you letting him talk so much? Just press the key and end it, he's obviously too stupid to get it."
Dr. Lychee glanced at Mireau. "Out of respect for a friend … and scientific obligation. You'll provide useful data as another addition to the tree."
Nappa took his hand from the monitor and began charging it with ki. This time he wouldn't make the mistake of throwing it, he would punch right through the both of them.
The scientist looked at Nappa and succeeded in grabbing his attention as he spoke. "All I have ever wanted is an answer. Why did my people have to die? Why does the galaxy only get more violent with each passing moment? Why are only people that get ahead are monsters consumed in a chase for power? I don't know if I'll ever get it, but I do know one thing. I can take out a lot of monsters right now, or I can give them a higher purpose. For the last time, I'm putting that choice in your hands, general. Will the saiyans work with the tuffles?"
Nappa thought of all the friends he'd lost, of the home he'd never see again, of the second life he began the moment Frieza kept him on his ship, and the four boys he'd grown to call family ever since that life started.
The time that he taught Vegeta how to grow the best Saibamen and he would get so angry that he'd throw the seeds at the wall, but he still learned, because they both knew you could never give up.
Kakarot always took to learning attacks like a fish to water, but he never had the actual strength to make any of it matter and Vegeta would always assign him as the Oozaru Artillery for each mission. Despite all that he would still come with Nappa to the gym everyday, even if he always struggled to keep up back then.
Raditz and Broly, there wasn't a damn thing he could teach those kids. They were always so bad at raw offense that it made him laugh, but they taught him. Taught him that no matter what the galaxy did to them, there would always be some saiyans just like the ones back home. Not every saiyan could be a conqueror, but every saiyan could be something, even an artist or a scientist, and when he looked at those two oddballs, it always reminded him that the legacy of the Saiyans would always live on in every shape it took.
Before he could talk, he gathered the blood collecting in his throat and spat it onto the ground. "I'm not about to sell my family to you, no matter what you think you're giving us or the galaxy. The only thing that matters is fighting for what's right in front of me, not any of this made up tuffle crap."
Nappa turned to Mireau and grinned at the solemn figure who got into a fighting position in response. "Let's end this then, one relic to another."
His dash to the tuffle felt like it took a thousand years, and the faster he tried to go, the slower it felt like he was moving. Time came to a crawl around him, but he had to keep moving, he had to advance. It wasn't like this had never happened before, he had felt time slow down in plenty of tense battles, but never to this extent, never this nauseating.
He got to Mireau and collapsed, retching on his knees.
"What … What the hell did you do to me?" Nappa said as time began moving normally again.
"Did you really think we stopped at a knockout gas?" The scientist said. "You've been injected with enough drugs to down an oozaru, I'm impressed you're even standing. It's a shame, you would've made for great research as a consenting specimen. I suppose we'll just have to find some other race for the assignment. Perhaps dig out the namekian from the tree before this is all over, he may be more compliant."
It took every ounce of strength for Nappa to turn his head up. What right did Mireau have to be looking down on him with pity?
"Get up," Mireau said, "A beast like you doesn't deserve a noble death, but I'll let you die on your feet. It's the one kindness I'll give you, you genocidal bastard."
Nappa's legs trembled as he tried to rise. He was an elite warrior, he wasn't about to die, he was about to kill every tuffle in this room.
The scientist clicked another button and chuckled to himself. It reminded Nappa of Frieza too much for comfort.
Squatting off the ground, Nappa strained his neck to see just what the tuffle found so funny. All of the monitors had changed to just one image, a saiyan that looked identical to Kakarot climbing a giant tree. The tree that Nappa knew in his bones belonged to the same one that had almost killed him on planet Roug.
"We were going to leave immediately regardless," the scientist said, "but it looks like the saiyans are going to get wiped out by one of their own. Allying with Cooler for a mission has paid off more than we could've asked for. We get to know that there's at least one useful saiyan in the universe, and he'll probably die from the overload while killing the rest of your squadron."
"Overload?" Nappa said as he was finally able to bring himself to stand up straight.
The scientist stood at the question and turned his computer off. "Finish it."
"Goodbye, General Nappa." He wished that Mireau spoke with passionate fury, that this grudge spanning decades based on a conflict that lasted over a century ended in something more than a muted rage. But, Nappa supposed in a final moment of clarity, that was just what time did to people, it would always leave them wondering why, and neither he or Mireau had ever thought to ask.
Nappa saw the scythe swing, and felt it pierce him for a millennium. He had trained for this, to survive any blow, but now he knew what that meant. He knew what it was to feel as each inch of Tuffle Steel cut into his abdomen, what type of torture the runes could inflict as they were activated, how their drugs could drive him mad. He felt more pain in that eternal instant than he had felt in the entirety of his life combined.
He looked at Mireau's gaunt face as he fell forward into him, clinging onto him as the blade jutted through his torso. He had fought enough to know that as soon as Mireau pulled the blade out, he was going to die.
"It's over, general." Mireau said. "You need to let go."
"No," Nappa always thought he was better than it, but now he was crying like he was Raditz. Oh well, it didn't matter much now anyways. "I'm not letting go until I see my son."
"You don't have a son."
"My son," Nappa tightened his grip on Mireau's robes. "My son is right behind that door, I know he is. You can't do this to …" It dawned on him that in fact, they could, and they did. Once upon a time, he was a prouder man than this. "Please don't do this to me."
He could feel Mireau looking at him as he buried his head in his shoulder, using the tuffle to hold himself upright. Was he looking at him with pity, derision, triumph? He couldn't begin to guess, but Mireau muttered a phrase under his breath, the runes on the scythe glowed, and its handle detached from its steel.
The blade still pierced through him, he would get to live just a few moments longer. He wasn't finished yet.
Before he could fall forward, Mireau scooped him off of his feet and opened the door he once guarded.
"Mireau?" Barry said as she leapt to her feet. "What are you doing?"
"He doesn't deserve it," Mireau said before he stepped forward, "but we're not doing this to be like them. We have to be better."
Nappa couldn't care less what they thought of him. He just needed to get a little bit further. The door was open and he could sense it now, Broly's ki wasn't that far away, he could still save him.
But something about Broly's ki was wrong. It was tainted, impure but faintly familiar.
Mireau placed him down in the room on the conveyor belt surrounded by a glass tube, and Nappa could see what was wrong, it was a sight he couldn't forget. The same roots that had almost killed him were here, now blooming with flowers of blue and green as they pressed against the glass. The tube was cracking and his grasp on consciousness was following fast.
"What did you do to him?" Nappa asked.
"I'm sorry this happened to him, it was originally supposed to happen to Prince Vegeta," Mireau wrapped his skeletal hand around Nappa's and looked him in the eyes as he spoke. "My only interest was in ending this feud. Progress cannot be made without finishing the past, but I know you. I remember the war. One of us was going to die, and that was inescapable. I'm sorry that someone who wanted nothing to do with this had to get involved … But Prince Vegeta will pass soon as well, then the hierarchies of the past will be destroyed. We will leave soon, and the other two will be left to their own devices. There is still hope for them, for your people. Maybe they'll be the ones to escape our history."
Nappa tried with all his might to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle. His eyelids were nearly shut as Mireau's body jerked and the Tuffle's grasp on his hand tightened. He was sure he felt the texture of his skin change, from normal flesh to scales, to firm leather, to slime, to fur, and back to normal flesh as the tuffle's hand trembled. He noticed, but he was far past the ability to understand.
Mireau put a hand on the scythe and as runes glowed on the blade, the agonizing pain in Nappa's body stopped. The damage was done, but he wouldn't have to live with it any longer, although Nappa supposed it didn't much matter. He could hardly feel the pain anymore, he could hardly feel anything at all.
"May our people rest easy, General." Mireau said as he brushed a shaking hand over Nappa's face and closed his eyes.
Nappa heard the opening of the door and felt the movement of his body on the conveyor belt, but he never accepted what he knew came next. A Saiyan could never accept failure.