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Playing Raditz's Game; Dark(ish) AU; rated T
Topic Started: Sep 13 2013, 07:10 PM (2,613 Views)
foot soldier
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Author's Note: I began writing this fic in 2011. I've since edited it a little, and began continuing the narrative. I think it's lost a lot of its initial "darkness," but it's gained a bit in quality. I'm hoping to stick with it this time. Stay focused, finish. It's a bit crackish, but that's what get from what-if fiction.

Warnings: Character death, minor language (could be filtered? I'm not really sure), sexually suggestive but not explicit themes

Pairings: Raditz/Bulma, Vegeta/Bulma, Goku/Bulma (friendship)

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, or any recognizable themes or trademarks within.

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Eighty-seven. Eighty-seven bodies. The number was much too high for his liking, but still not high enough. With that in mind Son Goku dropped another body, another victim, into the mass grave he had built. He hoped they wouldn't stay there, not forever. His heart hurt to look upon them, at the mounds of bleeding flesh that stained the beaches surrounding Master Roshi's home. These people bled and leaked and crumpled in misshapen, unnatural positions from the wounds he himself had inflicted. And for what? The wrath of his brother Raditz would never be satisfied. At least, not by a number so low as a measly eighty-seven. Raditz demanded one-hundred dead earthlings and no less.

Goku didn't think his brother would be offended if he killed more.

But he only had eighty-seven, and eighty-seven would not get him Gohan back. Goku took a step back from the grave before him, sinking further into desperation with each step. He told himself he had to get his son back, and this... this was the only way. Chi-chi would understand. So would Krillen, and Bulma, and all the others. There was no alternative. He had never known the horrid feeling that washed over him as Raditz gave him the ultimatum until the very moment it occurred. Destroy one-hundred earthlings and his brother would return Gohan to him. Fail to fulfil Raditz's demands and... Goku couldn't bare to contemplate it. It made him sick, the hopelessness of it. There he had been, prostrate on the beach writhing in his own pain while his baby boy's wails filled the air with nothing he could do about it. Raditz outclassed him in every way that mattered – strength, skill, ability. Goku had known from the moment he felt the rapidly approaching power that his own ki couldn't hold a candle to the power that was on its way. Under normal circumstances it was an ideal situation. Goku loved nothing more than to charge into battle without a spare thought to his own self preservation, but there was one simple thing holding the young man at bay.

Raditz had Gohan and Goku would do nothing that would endanger his son.

Attacking his brother on a righteous mission of suicide, however appealing and glorious it may sound, would be to directly place Gohan's well-being in jeopardy. It was a risk that even he was unwilling to take, especially not when Raditz offered a solution so readily to the problem he had created. Kill one hundred humans, pile them on the beach, have Gohan returned to him. The equation was so simple, yet he had delayed action an entire hour after Gohan's kidnapping. His friends swarmed him, insisting they would find another way to save the boy from his uncle, but Goku's heart knew better. There would be no saving Gohan without first playing Raditz's game.

So play it Goku did.

His feet had left behind prints in snow and deserts, stealing away persons to be counted as Gohan had been stolen from him. No one opposed him anymore. Krillin had tried. Tien had tried. Even Yamcha had pulled his head from the sand once he knew what was happening to try to stop Goku from parading down the warpath he had chosen. But as Raditz outclassed him, Goku outclassed the rest of the warriors on Earth. What had been a common joke – no one can stop Goku once he's made up his mind! – was now a living nightmare. His tremendous strength had been turned on the people and planet he loved in the twinkling of an eye, at the moment of a stronger stranger's bidding. And there was absolutely nothing to be done about it.

Eighty-seven.

Goku groaned and sunk to the ground in one of the last patches of pearly white sand to be found on Master Roshi's island. Before him the ocean stretched out in beauty, but behind him his victims rotted, their flesh spoiled from the sun that was now setting. The air around him was permeated with the rank scent of the deceased and the stench assaulted his sensitive nose. His face wrinkled at the unpleasantness and he lamented the heat of the night. Even in this place, in the middle of the ocean, the sea breeze did nothing to alleviate the rising temperature. He remembered there being many nights like this one not so long ago when he had lived on an island not far from this one and trained under the Turtle Hermit. Long, tiresome nights which involved a lot of flopping around while sleep eluded in a bed that seemed to boil in a house that was even hotter. A hollow smile came to his lips at the memory, a ghost of a laugh even building in Goku's throat before he was brought back to the gravity of the situation at hand. Shamefully, his gaze wandered with guilt in his eyes towards his handiwork on the beach and he felt his stomach clench painfully.

Eighty-seven. Eighty-seven people, and he had killed them all.

He sunk his fingers into the sand and marveled as the grains siphoned away the blood that had remained on his hands. Quietly he formed fists in the soft ground then threw the bloody handfuls of sand he had collected far away from his person. He wiped his palms clean against his pants feebly. Physically Goku supposed the blood was gone from his hands, but he still felt it there as if it knew where belonged and who to blame. Disgusted, he stood up and walked to the edge of the island and plunged his arms into the water up to his elbows in an effort to get clean. As he finished, though, he looked back towards the grave and his heart sunk. Ninety-two. No matter how bad Goku may have been at math, he still knew enough to know that meant he was still short a few heads to count and all of his preening had been for naught. With finality he focused his energy, rose into the sky in flight and left the island and its dead tenants behind, thankful that Krillin and Master Roshi had left several hours before with Bulma using one of her capsules.

He didn't want them to see what he had done.

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Elsewhere and far, far away from his brother, Raditz sat perched atop of a large rock near the crater his pod had formed during his landing. The bridge of his nose was almost sore and bruised from being pinched as his nephew's utterly disgraceful squalling continuously filled the air. The brat simply did not shut up. Hours ago the Saiyan had tossed the little wretch into his pod to try to negate some of the sound, but it was to no avail. The boy had Saiyan lungs and Raditz would testify to it on all his honor as a warrior of Planet Vegeta, whatever that was worth. There wasn't a Planet Vegeta anymore to be a warrior of, so he supposed the oath was now quite meaningless. He could have said on his honor as a soldier of Lord Frieza, but there was a traitorous little bud of a thought somewhere in the back of his less than exceptional brain that said there was no honor in serving the Colds. The thought grew from a seed planted by his prince so craftily that Raditz could have easily mistaken the thought for his own.

Grumbling, the long haired warrior left his rock and strolled to the edge of the crater to yell at his nephew to shut up some more. His orders were met with defiance which ruffled him, but he had grown used to being ignored by the brat in the past few hours. If his guesses were any good, there would be a point in the immediately foreseeable future when the boy would finally cry himself out and he would pass out in exhaustion. Raditz had some basic knowledge of children from which he formed his hypothesis. While not a common occurrence, brats weren't totally unheard of on the purging station he and the other remaining Saiyans kept as their permanent residence. They were noisy and a hindrance and a fair few of them wound up disappearing – mostly due to their own negligent parents, of course – but Raditz had come into contact with them. It probably had to do with the fact most of the children were given instructions to avoid all contact with Nappa, Vegeta, and himself, and so they found themselves targets for the little buffoons whenever they weren't on a mission for Frieza. All in all it was quite horrific and made for short Saiyan tempers which in turn probably accounted for the disappearances. Weary of yelling once more, Raditz retreated again to his rock.

As expected, Gohan tuckered himself out a half hour later and Raditz reveled in the moment's utter quietness. Using his scouter he assessed his nephew's dormant power reading and deduced he was sleeping. It was normal for an untrained individual's combat strength to dwindle down next to nothing while they slumbered and though Gohan's power level wasn't particularly high when he was awake, it was now almost microscopic. Perfect. Raditz stood once more and approached the crater, intending to release the boy from his makeshift cell. He thought he might even feed him – just to avoid hearing him complain, of course. He was in no danger of starvation at this point, not that Raditz would allow that, either. The brat was of no use if he wasn't actively being used to keep control over his disgrace of a brother, Kakarrot. That was the only reason the whelp wasn't dead by his hand already.

It was then that Kakarrot appeared quite suddenly, as if the very thought of his brother summoned him. In this part of the planet the sun had just begun to dip down beneath the horizon and Raditz smirked at the younger Saiyan in the waning twilight. Kakarrot's face was all business despite his disheveled appearance. His brother's orange gi was tainted an ugly shade of bloody crimson and the fabric had even ripped in some places. The smirk Raditz wore was met with only a steely, steadfast gaze that even he was having trouble reading. Perhaps his baby brother wasn't so predictable after all. Maybe Kakarrot was a real wild card, just like their father before him.

"Give me my son."

Or maybe, he was just as simple minded as he had originally been lead to believe.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that?"

"You promised," Kakarrot reminded him, his voice hard and flat but still containing the faintest twinge of hopefulness.

"I guess I did then," Raditz chuckled. "Am I to just take your word that you really did kill one hundred of the earthlings?"

"I did," he spat. "They're on the beach. You can count 'em."

"Oh, I believe you," Raditz said darkly, approaching his brother. "You're far too honest and what's the term? 'Good natured' to lie to me. And you're afraid."

He knew Kakarrot was afraid of him and Raditz would even have liked to think poor little Kakarrot was having trouble refraining from shrinking away from his intimidating figure. The truth, however, was quite the opposite. The younger Saiyan before him was wrapped in barely checked rage and every fiber of his being was focused on not doing something incredibly stupid like blindly attacking. Kakarrot stood his ground and nothing more.

"If you believe me then give me Gohan," Kakarrot said firmly, earning another laugh from his older brother.

"But he just quieted down," Raditz crooned. "I was beginning to like him. In fact, I think I might keep him."

Kakarrot's restraint broke at that moment and his fury got the better of him, catapulting him into action when he had been forcing himself into dormancy. His fists flew and were deflected, his legs aiming for any opening his trained eyes saw but his kicks repeatedly missed their mark. Raditz was larger, stronger, and more skilled then his baby brother and when he was embarrassed enough by Kakarrot's odd and erratic behavior, he decided it was high time to toss his own punch. His fist connected with Kakarrot's jaw with a distinctive crack.

Kakarrot stumbled back, his hand flying to his damaged jaw with lightning speed, and Raditz stepped over him. He picked his brother up by the front of his orange gi, marveling for a brief moment at the added weight of the garment before tossing him like a rag doll straight into the rock on which he had been sitting. There was only the sound of a dull thunk as Kakarrot befriended the rock and so Raditz wasn't too concerned that he might have seriously hurt his brother. The older Saiyan clicked on his scouter's communications unit, tuning it to the frequency of his home purging station

"Raditz? What do you need? All our readings on your pod are fine." The crackling voice on the other end of the receiver belonged to a scaly alien who controlled the hangar who probably should have known better for his health than to question a Saiyan.

Raditz growled in response, "I am sending back my brother Kakarrot in my pod along with his offspring. Send a second pod to the Earth coordinates for my use after I finish purging the planet."

"Yes, sir. Of course. We will prepare rooms for the Kakarrot and child."

"Excellent," Raditz said. "Put them in Nappa's charge. He'll know what to do with them."

He exited communication. Nappa and Prince Vegeta were due back from their purging mission any day now with a prolonged intermission until their next assignment. He fully trusted that the other remaining Saiyans would prove adequate caretakers for his brother and the boy. With any luck, and Raditz was for some reason or another a phenomenally lucky person, Nappa would have already put Kakarrot through the wringer and trained him up to the level of mere embarrassment, not disgrace. Raditz didn't really care what they did with the whelp.

He crossed the grassy patch between himself and the rock where Kakarrot lay in a heap, too woozy perhaps to stand up. It was painfully obvious that his brother was far too used to being the strongest super power on the planet. Raditz nudged him with the tip of his boot and Kakarrot groaned. Yes, it was clear that no one had just tossed his brother around in a long, long time. Might as well reiterate the lesson, he thought. Raditz smirked and hoisted Kakarrot up over his shoulder, moving down into the crater where his pod lay. Unceremoniously he whacked the keypad with a brutal swipe of his tail, springing open the pod door. Inside, Gohan lay in the large seat, his small body tiny enough to use the cushion that barely allowed clearance for Raditz's hulking frame as a bed. The little boy stirred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"D-daddy?" he yawned, his wide eyes slowly coming into focus.

Raditz punched the toddler square in the nose. "Shut up."

Gohan promptly began howling again, the sound grating on his uncle's last and straining nerve. He reached in the pod and yanked the whelp out by the tail, the poor boy lolling into a state of comatose as all lower caste Saiyans did when their tails were grabbed so viciously. None too carefully, Raditz placed Kakarrot into the seat where he had previously been keeping Gohan then tossed the brat inside along with its father. He idly messed with the computer, ensuring his kin would be knocked out most of the trip and double checking to be sure they were going no where but to the purging station because he really didn't want to go through all this trouble only to loose them in the space boonies. Satisfied, Raditz initiated the launch sequence and dashed away from the pod so as not to get caught in the closing door and rocketed into space along with them.

Climbing up to the edge of the crater, Raditz sat down on the ledge and watched as the pod seemingly flung itself out of the atmosphere. He personally didn't really understand the dynamics of the pods, but he knew the technology behind them was trustworthy enough and he hadn't ever had any trouble out of the pods assigned to him. The Saiyan leaned back on his palms as his pod disappeared into the night sky and sighed contentedly. Everything since he had landed on this backwater planet had gone exactly as he planned, a testament to his uncanny luck no doubt. A fiendish smile graced his lips as he laid down on the hard earth, tucking his hands under her head and he closed his eyes, the gentle sounds of quiet nighttime nature to lulling him into sleep. He would catch some shut eye first thing, he decided, then he would destroy the planet's infrastructure tomorrow.

Chapter Two: Kickoff
Edited by foot soldier, Sep 14 2013, 02:13 AM.
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Playing Raditz's Game
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Dankness Lava
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Dankness Forever

So is Goku with Raditz now?
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foot soldier
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Simply put, yes.
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This is a great story. I hope to read the next chapter soon, you have me hooked.
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foot soldier
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Raditz rose the following morning as a red sun crested in the distance. He sat up slowly from the ground which he had called his bed and cracked his thick neck and all ten of his fingers. Today was the day he began clean up duty on the job his brother had been sent out to do over two decades ago. He was deeply ashamed for his brother's inexcusable incompetence and found quickly that even the faintest thought regarding Kakarrot at that moment filled him with reproach. Raditz had wanted so badly, whether he would admit it or not, to find a little brother he could boast about. Instead he found Kakarrot who was so clearly wrong in the head that Raditz was having trouble trying to even conceive a situation that could have caused such trauma. He had heard of young Saiyans knocking their skulls as infants and having a fair few oddities later in life, but not like Kakarrot. His brother should have been fierce and bloodthirsty like all other Saiyans, but somehow his personality was unmistakably gentle.

Raditz kept coming back to the word disappointment.

But Kakarrot was not Raditz's current concern. He had already dealt with that matter the night before by exporting his brother and nephew off of their forsaken planet. They were both in Nappa's hands now, or at least they would be in approximately two months' travel time when they would arrive at the purging station. Estimated, he had about as long to wait until the second pod he requested came crashing through the stratosphere for his use. That meant he had two entire months, sixty one whole days, to drag out the annihilation of the Earth. The concept was almost laughable, if it weren't for the fact Raditz was deeply troubled by exactly how to go about the task.

The people on this planet were weak. There was nothing to deter him from utterly slaughtering every one in his path even without the use of his Oozaru transformation, a technique he could use in roughly three days time, judging by the wide and waxing moon he had observed briefly in the night. Raditz didn't know how to use the artificial moon technique and so he was completely reliant on the natural lunar phases of any planet he was sent to purge. By chance it turned out a full moon on Earth was near and the alluring promise made Raditz smirk into the foggy morning blissfully. Stretching once more, the warrior stood at the edge of his original pod's crater and formulated his plan for the day.

He needed to make his presence known.

Destroying the largest city he could find sounded like an excellent way to start and so he entered the thought on his mental tablet. In an hour or so he would see about taking flight and scoping out the immediately surrounding areas in search for a good, sprawling metropolis to massacre. He could already hear the terrified screams and yells, the tones of which were almost akin to music for his Saiyan ears. Years of working steadily for Frieza and under King Vegeta before that had given Raditz an uncanny ability to judge the weak points in structures so that with a few well-placed ki blasts, he could collapse buildings left, right, and center without even the appearance of effort.

But first... first he needed to find something to eat.

With that thought in mind, Raditz sniffed the air and placed a large hand on his stomach as the organ growled persistently. His nose was sensitive like all Saiyans and the air around him smelt faintly of salt and brine on the breeze. He knew those scents to be synonymous with the presence of an ocean which in turn meant fish, crustaceans, and maybe even tasty cephalopods. The thought motivated him and after finding an appropriate place for his morning piss, he followed the stench of the beach to water.

The ocean he smelt was the same one he had flown over looking for that stupid little island on which he had found Kakarrot, and true to fashion, it was abundantly full of delicious sea life once he looked a mile or two off the coast. Bigger fish lived in deeper water as a general rule, and since Raditz had a large appetite the more beastly sized animal he could catch, the better. He wasted no time in assuaging his stomach and quite hastily had devoured a great many large and scrumptious fish. There was something nice about eating food he had trapped or otherwise caught himself. Though it was obviously more troublesome, he preferred it any day to eating the mess hall styled food available to him when he was 'home' at the purging station.

With the issue of his hunger sated for the moment, Raditz recalled once more that his initial plan had been to destroy a city that day. But in the afterglow of his hunt Raditz realized that would have to wait. He wanted to visit that dopey little island to see the murdered earthlings if only to bask in the fruits of his domination of his brother's will.

Thirty minutes later and Raditz found himself dipping down out of the sky onto a bloody beach. It had been more difficult to find the second time because there were no readings on his scouter to lead him there and he hadn't had the foresight to record the island's coordinates. By memory he found the island exactly as Kakarrot had led him to believe he would. Mountains of fleshy carcasses were stacked upon the formerly white sand. He could tell where at first Kakarrot had been painstakingly careful. There were some bodies which laid perfectly as if they were merely sleeping. But then the body next to them would be laying at an awkward, unnatural angle or the eyes would be open and glassy. Raditz smirked, kicking one of the smaller bodies to the side and watching gleefully as its jaw lolled, the pressures of rigor mortis having deteriorated in the island's heat. He vaguely counted the cadavers but stopped when he reached forty or so, having grown tired of the smell and deciding that Kakarrot wouldn't have gone that far without completion.

"I hope you're happy."

The sudden intrusion of a female voice startled the Saiyan warrior, and he whirled around to find a woman standing on the beach. Her eyes betrayed her brokenness and Raditz laughed, regaining his composure. He recognized her now; this was one of Kakarrot's friends, the blue haired woman. He had seen her here just yesterday when this beach had still been pristine. Apparently she had had the same idea as him... what a stupid woman.

"Come to see my little brother's handiwork, have you?" he leered.

She took a small, almost imperceptible step back and away from him then stood her ground. "No. I... I came to see you."

His curiosity was piqued. He hadn't seen that coming in the slightest. "Well, then?"

"I know you've killed them," she said. "Gohan and Goku, I know they're gone. None of my friends can sense them anymore." Her voice was resigned, accepting. Raditz would almost think her detached completely if it weren't for the desolation that leaked from every fiber of her being and radiated from her presence. He looked her over and noted that this sadness suited her, and so he did not correct her that his brother and nephew were actually still living, though they might soon wish they were dead.

"Get to your point, little earth woman," he spat.

"You've killed them," she repeated. "So... so you've got no more purpose here, right? Just leave. Please."

Now Raditz truly laughed. How delusional, how utterly bat s*** insane. Did she really think her intervention, that politeness and an appeal to mercy would make him leave? He clutched his side and slapped his knee while her face painted itself red from her neck to her brow. Raditz stifled his laugh and looked upon her again. Embarrassment suited her, too, he decided. He stepped toward her.

"What is your name?" he asked, circling her. She was much smaller than him, but so were most creatures from the planets he purged. Though he knew she must be terribly afraid, she refused to shrink back from him again. Not that she had anywhere to go.

"Bulma," she answered.

"Bulma," he repeated. "Bulma. Let me explain this in a way that you can understand it, Bulma. I intend to finish my brother's failed assignment. I will annihilate this planet and everyone and everything in it. I will leave no flesh and blood creature alive, no city standing. I will end them all and there is nothing you can say or do to change that by way of flattery or any other means. Not you, not your toy soldier friends."

To her credit, Bulma didn't flinch. "How long?" she asked.

Raditz's brow furrowed. "How long? You ask how long?"

She swallowed harshly. "How long until you do all of those things?"

The audacity of the question shocked him and the answer slipped from his lips unchecked. "A week, maybe more."

"Okay," she said. And there it was again. Resignation. Acceptance.

Raditz understood then that the woman before him bore no fear of death, that stupidity hadn't brought her here to meet him. No, bravery had. Stupid bravery, the bravery of one who already knew that inevitable death was at hand. The same bravery of his father when Bardock had tried to face Frieza alone. Bulma reached in her pocket and thew the small device she retrieved onto the bloody beach. In its place a primitive ship appeared and when she turned her back to board, Raditz let her go.

She could die another day.

Raditz left the island then, too, briefly looking back to incinerate the mess with a healthy dosage of ki. He took out the little pink house along with the mass grave, the building and bodies turning to ash and either blowing away in the wind or becoming one with the bloodied sand.

He turned away and reminded himself he was looking for a city. With a burst of energy he set his course back to the mainland, reveling in the sensation of flight. Raditz liked the feeling of going somewhere with a definite purpose. A soldier born and bred, he needed order and a plan to feel comfortable. He planned each day meticulously and when something unforeseen came up, he adjusted accordingly. Adaptability was synonymous with survival in the Cold Empire's purging corps and Raditz was built to survive.

For what seemed like hours he circled the skies, an unimpressed eye falling on the wonders of Mount Paozu and the surrounding area. The entirety of the planet his brother had called home bored him. Nothing caught his attention and more then once, he tossed a volley of blasts at the ancient rock of the mountains to entertain himself. Though he did not know it, one of these blasts destroyed his brother's home, burying Kakarott's wife and father-in-law in the rubble.

No one would ever know what became of Chi-chi. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't even matter.

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That night at Capsule Corporation, Bulma locked herself in her room. She took a long shower and clambered into bed with no desire for anything or anyone. She and Yamcha were off, and not even the impending end of the world would make her lower her standards to take him back. And the world was ending. Raditz was here and Goku was dead. There was nothing to be done, unless...

Kami, to be a genius she was so dumb.

The heiress leapt from her bed, clicking on her lamp and rifling through her desk for her old dragon radar. If she could just find the dragon balls, then they could just wish this all away and back to normal. Raditz had cited a week until the earth's destruction. That was plenty of time if she and the others hauled a***. Her brain was working at a thousand miles an hour at the prospect. Excitedly she turned the radar on and the familiar blips of light flickered onto the grid. One, two, three, four, five, six... Six? The radar showed only six dragon balls when she well knew that there were seven.

Bulma screamed and screamed. "Gohan!"

Goku's precious baby boy had been wearing a dragon ball on his cap and now one of the balls had disappeared off the face of the planet, right as the energy signals of both father and son had vanished, too. Bulma's heart felt like it was going to explode. Yes, the dragon balls were now obsolete, but she had every reason to believe that they were alive. She clutched the radar close her her heart and tears welled in her eyes.

"That brute wouldn't have sent away your bodies," she whispered. "You're okay. You've got to be."

The thought put her at ease. She still knew that she would die along with everyone else on her planet. There would be no wishes, and she knew there was no way that Goku would be coming back to rescue them all. Raditz had sent him away, and she felt certain she could count it as a trustworthy fact that her oldest friend was thoroughly incapacitated. But he was alive. That baby was alive. And if nothing else, she knew she could count on it that her death and the death of her planet would be avenged.

Chapter Three: Turnover
Edited by foot soldier, Sep 14 2013, 05:10 AM.
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It looks like Bulma is the one who is going to have to get things back in order, at least try, that is. I'm excited to see how things go with Goku and Gohan heading in Vegeta and Nappa's direction.

Something tells me we're going to see the Saiyan side get pulled out of one of the two, but I truly don't know yet.

It's a dark day on Earth, and it's all up to Bulma, she's in a pickle that's for sure. I wonder what Piccolo is going to do to help out.

Looking forward for the next.
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foot soldier
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Author's Note: Naked Saiyans. Naked Saiyans everywhere.

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The earth moon would be full that night. Raditz had been laying low and waiting on it. In the two days since he had seen Bulma on the island he had only touched a few minor cities with minimal opposition, having opted to wait for his Oozaru transformation to truly begin his work. During the elapsed time he had grown increasingly bored. He was itching for some sort of action – the moon couldn't rise fast enough. Nevertheless, let it not be said Raditz couldn't enjoy the finer things, or a moment of downtime when it found him. That morning he had took a bit of a pounding from a green man who had attempted to apprehend him as he terrorized and ultimately destroyed a city to the northeast of the hot spring in the mountains where was currently enjoying a soak, eyes closed and thick muscles relaxed. He was nodding off when the intrusive noise of a motor filled the air, causing Raditz to groan and crack his eyes open. Whoever had arrived, and he had a fair idea to their identity, cut the engine and stepped onto the rocks.

"You know, you're a hard guy to find. I had thought you would be leaving a trail to follow, but you're too neat for that, aren't you?"

He recognized that voice now. "You again."

"Yes, me," Bulma said. "No one else even wants to come look for you. Cowards."

Raditz shifted and stood, "Now now, little earth woman. That's unfair of you. I did encounter one or two of your kind when I destroyed the cities that formerly lay to the northeast of here. I killed them, of course, but they did put in an effort."

Bulma refused to react to his baiting. He couldn't tell if she had known that her friends had tried and failed to resist him or not. Her expression was like steel. "I didn't come here to talk about your demolition schedule."

"Oh really?" he asked, turning around to face her. He stepped out of the water. "And why then did you come? Did you miss me that badly?"

Bulma blushed beautifully and turned away, "No."

Raditz laughed at her and dried his body by raising his ki before dressing. Bulma waited until she heard the sound of him slipping on his boots to address him again.

"I came to talk about Goku and Gohan."

"They're dead," Raditz said gruffly.

Bulma cracked a huge grin. "No they're not. You've only sent them away."

Raditz schooled his expression. "No, they're dead," he denied.

"Whatever, I know you're lying," she seethed. "And I wanted you to know I knew, and I wanted you to know that Goku will never let us be forgotten."

Raditz scoffed, "Duly noted."

His lack of response seemed to shake her, but still she spoke again. "He only gets stronger."

"Most Saiyans do."

"So he is alive!"

"He's dead to you."

That closed the conversation. She bit her lip and swung her leg back over the motorbike she had come on then kicked its engine back to life. Again, Raditz let her go. She was just too entertaining to kill this early in the game; too full of surprises to waste. How she had managed to figure out that her friend his brother and son were living was beyond him, and he half suspected she was bluffing. Either way, he wasn't quite ready for her to flicker out of existence yet. She was a ripe area for comedy and what did it matter that she knew Kakarrott and his boy were alive, anyway? They were on their way to the purging station now and they wouldn't be coming back. Besides, Raditz rather liked Bulma and her stupid bravery. He cracked his neck and stretched.

He would save her for last.

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The purging station that Raditz, Nappa, and Prince Vegeta called home was one of the smallest bases on its side of the quadrant. It was built upon a watery planet that had once been inhabited by amphibious people who had long since been wiped out; there were virtually no remnants of their civilization now. The only things standing on the planet's limited land were dormitories and infirmaries for the warriors who lived there between assignments, a mess hall and five numbered training arenas, and the hangar. The rest of the planet was unusable swamp land that gurgled and hissed with pollution. All in all it was a desolate, uninspiring place with the primary function of prison for the Saiyans. Here they could do no harm, lead no coups d'ιtat, and grow no stronger than what was carefully allowed. The three of them were constantly under surveillance and their power levels monitored for unsolicited jumps and spikes. Frieza wanted the Saiyan prince and his companions for pomp and prestige only. He didn't want soldiers he couldn't control, so they were carefully trimmed and pruned like bonsai trees. They were given just enough to be phenomenal by all other standards, yet kept at a level that was insignificant in the sight of Lord Frieza. They never went anywhere or did anything that wasn't painstakingly pre-approved. How Raditz had managed to gain clearance to go off hunting for his baby brother was beyond the Saiyan prince.

The third class among them was an unnaturally lucky bastard if there ever was one.

"The prince should report to the infirmary, sir."

Vegeta stared coldly at the reptilian caretaker of the hangar and narrowed his eyes. Of course he was to report to the infirmary. He was physically damaged; the beating his armor hard taken and the deep gashes in and bruising on his skin were evidence enough of that. His body's natural healing mechanisms were already at work knitting him back together and he had to return to the infirmary so that they could be stopped. A Saiyan's body grew stronger in both defeat and victory, and it grew strongest when left to its own devices. The regeneration tanks were efficient at returning a body to its prior state, but that was about it. The accelerated rate of healing didn't negate their ability to become stronger after sustaining injury, but it did hinder it. There simply wasn't enough time.

He brushed past the alien gruffly, Nappa following close behind. The larger Saiyan was shredded pretty well himself and doubtlessly had a date with a regeneration tank, too. So was life in the elite. Their higher power levels meant they endured the most difficult missions of the Cold Empire, and as Frieza's pet monkeys they were expected to defeat their targets with minimal effort, or at least with the minimal appearance of it. Appearances were everything. Appearances and power.

The infirmary was perhaps Vegeta's most hated place in the purging station. The gel of the tanks reeked and left a film behind that was impossible to scrub off for a week, and his subjugation to the doctors there merely served to remind him how totally under Frieza's thumb his life truly was. He was healed under the pretense that it was for his own good health, but the prince knew better. He had been kept small, kept weak, and kept far from his true potential.

But that would change. That would change very soon, he thought as the doctors fitted him with a breathing mask that sealed tightly to his face. Around his naked body the tank filled with gel as gas filtered into his air supply, numbing his senses and rendering him comatose.

When Vegeta awoke, the station's commanding officer Chamo was waiting for him, which was never the sign of a good thing. Chamo was a hulking figure of a man with deep crimson skin and hair the color of grain whose power level outstripped Vegeta's by several thousand units of measure. He would have been utterly wasted here in this insignificant purging station if it wasn't for his active role as warden to the Saiyans.

The prince stood and wrestled his breathing mask away with hollow-feeling arms. It would take a few minutes for the after effects of the regeneration gel to wear off, and until the did all of Vegeta's muscles would feel as if they were asleep. The tank opened and Vegeta stepped out on pins and needles, naked as the day he was born. He stood straight before Chamo, his tail whipping frantically behind him as he tried to keep balance.

"Prince Vegeta," Chamo said, "I trust your mission was a success?"

"Naturally," he spat. "What do you want?"

Chamo sighed. "Please, Vegeta. Try to have a little decorum." Vegeta didn't respond. He trusted is unamused expression spoke volumes enough for him. It was a successful assumption and Chamo sighed again. "While you were deployed we received a transmission from Raditz that he had indeed found his brother."

Vegeta turned his back to Chamo and his attention to the fresh clothes laid out for him by the doctors. "What a joy," he lamented, beginning to dress. Chamo ignored him.

"The Saiyan Kakarrot and his son will be arriving at the station in approximately two months time, Prince Vegeta. It has been decided that Nappa will handle the adult specimen and the care of the infant has been assigned to you."

Vegeta froze. "What?"

Chamo chuckled. "You heard me. Apparently Kakarrot's brother bred with the very species he was sent to end. Poetic, isn't it?"

"Damn disgusting," Vegeta allowed, fitting on the last of a pair of fresh boots. "Why am I being saddled with the brat? I'm the Prince of Saiyans, not the nanny of halfbreeds."

At this Chamo outright laughed. "Oh, Prince Vegeta. You slay me."

"Is that an order?" the prince asked sarcastically while reaching for his gloves.

"Hmph. All joking aside, Prince Vegeta, this is a very serious assignment."

Serious? It was babysitting. His time was wasted on this, time that could be spent trying to press the limits of his jailing to become stronger. Strong enough to end Frieza's reign.

"I can see you haven't grasped it quite yet," Chamo continued, "so allow me to explain fully. This child, this son of Kakarrot, bears the blood of your people. It's diluted and probably worthless, but it's there. And it had been tasked to you to determine whether or not this child, this Saiyan child, is an asset to the Cold Empire and should be kept, or if we will terminate him."

Vegeta stopped dressing. It had clicked.

"...Of course," Chamo drawled, "on the opposite end of the spectrum, if he's too strong... well. You know."

"He'll be killed," Vegeta finished.

"Precisely."

By this point in conversation Vegeta's body and extremeties once again felt as if they belonged to him. He stood up straighter and stared down his commander fearlessly and without the slightest suggestion he had comprehended what was being said. He was being given charge of Kakarrot's infant as an exercise in futility. The decision to terminate his charge had all but been made already. This was just another psychological bout between himself and Lord Frieza where the child would be the casualty. Kakarrot's son was just the latest nail hammered home that there wasn't a thing Vegeta could do to preserve his people, that he – the Prince of Saiyans – was a prince of nothing. There was no magical window of usefulness by which the child would be saved. Rather, he would be allowed to keep the child long enough to become used to it (because he would not care for it) only to have it stripped away.

Honestly, it was almost as if Frieza had given up trying. His schemes for breaking him were getting more and more tired with every attempt.

"Are we finished here?"

The commander smirked. "Dismissed."

Vegeta needed no further prompting. He left the infirmary quickly and made for his quarters, a small room he had the distinction and privilege of not having to share with a bunkmate, and keyed the door locked behind him. He glanced around the spartan room which contained the few items he actually owned. None of it was very important; any of the objects and things he had placed value on had long since been taken from him. There were changes of clothes in his closet, a handful of books he didn't read on the shelf, and a bed that was akin to sleeping on stone. These were the things he had, these things and his pride. He slumped onto the hard bed and closed his eyes.

He wondered if the decision had been made whether or not to terminate Raditz's brother like it had already been made about the brat. It was a far stretch to imagine any kin of Raditz being particularly strong, so Vegeta doubted Kakarrot would be labeled as a threat, and Frieza's point would be well enough made by killing the child. Doubtless Kakarrot would be a burden just like his brother. Vegeta held out no great hopefulness that Kakarrot would be anything but another third class disgrace of what remained of their race, and the thought almost didn't bother him.

Vegeta had always been alone. Friendless, peerless. It was his destiny. He would become stronger on his own, and he would rebel against Frieza on his own, and he would win. He knew it in his heart, felt it in his bones, and with that thought in mind the prince decided for the millionth time that he didn't need anyone's help to do it. Nor their hindrance, he thought, deciding as well that if Kakarrot proved a difficulty, he would terminate him himself.

Chapter Four: Utility Player
Edited by foot soldier, Sep 16 2013, 11:43 PM.
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Dankness Lava
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Dankness Forever

I am just loving this.
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foot soldier
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That-Benny-Guy
Sep 14 2013, 06:18 AM
I am just loving this.
That makes me really happy to hear :)
Edited by foot soldier, Sep 14 2013, 06:28 AM.
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Augahn
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Astrian

I need moar. Like...right now
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foot soldier
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Augahn
Sep 14 2013, 07:19 AM
I need moar. Like...right now
I'm afraid you'll have to wait... I'm weighing options on how to begin chapter three. I'm hoping to have it finished tomorrow, though. I'm really happy you're enjoying the fic.
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Augahn
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Astrian

I'm about to go insane just because you're wasting time appreciating me. Think gawdd*mn it. Write. Right now. Wing it idgaf.

Lol im kiddin guy. Good job so far. I imagine every sentence, like ive seen it before on tv. Nice job. Cant wait till the latter stories arise man
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foot soldier
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Augahn
Sep 14 2013, 07:40 AM
I'm about to go insane just because you're wasting time appreciating me. Think gawdd*mn it. Write. Right now. Wing it idgaf.

Lol im kiddin guy. Good job so far. I imagine every sentence, like ive seen it before on tv. Nice job. Cant wait till the latter stories arise man
lol, then you'll be even more upset to know that I've spent even more time compiling a post of other unfinished fan fictions and have only added a couple of sentences to chapter 3. My name's Abby, bee tee dubs.
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Augahn
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Well hello Abby O.o.....umm. I'm Shun, my name says Augahn but thats part of a story not quite yet to be revealed....i admire your authorism (yes, i just made that word up) and hope to create tales like you one day.
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The time for escape was over. If she had started the moment Goku turned coat and fled, maybe she could have disappeared into inhabitable space. Now it was impossible. She was a genius, not a miracle worker. Even she couldn't ready a ship out of the ashes Raditz was creating from her home.

The full moon had fallen during the night after she had spoken to Raditz about Goku and Gohan and now it was waxing again, the promise of a transformation so terrible that no one would be left alive. There were barely any survivors the first time and Bulma suspected they had been allowed to live for sport. All of the great cities were gone and there was no way of communicating with the small towns and villages that remained. Bulma herself was one of only a handful of survivors from West City. She and her father had hid themselves away with a few of Capsule Corp's chief scientists in an underground bunker her father kept, but midway through Raditz's rampage it had collapsed, burying them in debris. Only Bulma had clawed her way out and that had taken her hours if not days. When she emerged she was weak and injured. Her ankle was still swollen and she could not lift her left arm higher than her shoulder, but she was alive.

For now at least.

She had been living in the least-scathed part of the wilderness east of her former home for six days after the full moon when she saw Raditz again outside of her little capsule house. There were enough supplies to last her ultimate end in less than a month's time stowed away in her dyno caps. She was almost living in luxury hidden away in the woods, camping out like she had as a teenager when she found Goku living in the mountains. Thinking about him brought a smile to her face. He had been so strong even as a little kid, and so incredibly innocent.

And he had never lost that, not until the very end.

Bulma was in total reverie when Raditz appeared suddenly, silently, and without warning.

"Thinking about me?" he jeered, rousing her from her daydream. The smile she wore slipped slowly from her face and she struggled to keep fear from replacing it. She gritted her teeth.

"Hardly."

The Saiyan chuckled, approaching her makeshift home. "This is really something that you've built here," he remarked, running a hand across the cool metal of the building. "How did you manage it so quickly?"

"I didn't, it's a dyno cap," she responded dully, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's basic technology."

Raditz frowned. "Interesting."

He rapped his knuckles against the house frame once or twice and a cool metallic ring filled the air. Silence followed. The forest around them was quiet and still and Bulma shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously. This was the first time that Raditz had sought her out instead of the opposite way around. She felt exposed; it was okay for her to instigate contact, but for Raditz to seek her was something else entirely. He paced around the house for a moment or two longer examining it then turned to examine her.

"You're hurt," he said bluntly, taking in her injuries. Bulma looked down at her still-swollen ankle. Yes, she was hurt, and in addition to that her skin was riddled with nicks and bruises, no thanks to him. And she told him so, which only served to make him laugh. He rubbed his eye, "Feisty one, aren't you?"

Bulma drew back. "What do you want, Raditz?"

"Nothing," the Saiyan insisted. He took a seat on the doorstep of her home. "Did I injure you?"

It was Bulma's turn to laugh. "No, I fell down some stairs."

"The Oozaru transformation can be difficult to control," he said as if it were an apology, as if it were okay. Bulma didn't accept it.

"What do you want?" she asked again. She didn't think Raditz was the type to pay meaningless house calls.

"Nothing," he reiterated. "Truly."

Maybe he means it, Bulma thought. "It's been longer than a week."

"Hm?"

"It's been longer than a week," Bulma repeated. Her voice held more confidence this time. "Last time I spoke to you, you said you'd destroy this place in a week or less. But you haven't and I'm still here."

"And who's to say you aren't all that remains and I've come to finish the job?"

It was a battle to keep the fear from her face. "I – I – you're lying."

Raditz smirked, "I am. But I will come to you for that purpose eventually."

"Then why not just kill me now and be done with it?" she asked evenly.

"Because," Raditz said, standing up. He towered over her. "Where would the fun be in that?"

It wasn't hard for Bulma to imagine the types of things the Saiyan lording over her would find fun and none of them matched her definition of the word. Her eyes caught the motion of Raditz's tail thrashing behind him and she looked away, sucking her lip. She needed a cigarette.

"There wouldn't be any," she answered bitterly.

Raditz clapped, "Such a smart woman. See, this is why I'd like to keep you."

Keep you. The phrase sent shivers down Bulma's spine. He sounded alarmingly sincere. Literal. Like he would take her as a possession if he could. She wondered what was keeping him back from taking her. Whoever kept his kind in check was a being Bulma hoped never to tangle with if she could help it. From what she had seen and experienced, Raditz was too strong to take orders lightly. She watched h

him carefully as he seemed to lose interest in her, his attention once more falling to her house.

"You don't have to do this," she said at length. Even she could hear the hopefulness dripping from her voice and she hated herself for her own transparency.

"Don't be ridiculous," Raditz scoffed, "I want to."

Bulma didn't believe him and told him so. His fingers closed around her throat so quickly she never saw him move.

"You will regret this," he taunted darkly. He was close enough that she felt his warm breath on her cheek, heavy and agitated.

Bulma struggled against him and his grip tightened. She couldn't breathe and she realized that Raditz was going to kill her. She had finally insulted him enough, had goaded him into action. She couldn't find that she regretted it. Her vision was clouding and her consciousness was beginning to slip when he dropped her. Her injured ankle screamed in protest at the drop; Bulma hadn't even realized Raditz had lifted her from the ground. Gingerly she felt the bones and breathed a quick sigh of relief that they weren't broken.

When she looked back up, Raditz was already gone and she cried. She had wished so much that he would just kill her and get it all over with sooner rather than later. She was too cowardly – or perhaps too brave – to do it herself. He kept letting her go. Showing her mercy. Prolonging her life. Why couldn't he afford the same courtesy to the rest of her planet? Was it some sort of joke to him, a game of emotions? Did it satisfy him to see her suffer? Probably, she thought. She stood up and moved slowly towards the house that had to interested her Saiyan conqueror and took refuge inside.

She only wanted it to end.

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Initiating landing sequence.

Goku awoke to the sound of the pod's AI informing him of its every move. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and looked out the red glass window of the pod at a small, swampy looking planet. He blinked rapidly. Where was he? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was fighting with Raditz to get Gohan back. A rising feeling of panic flooded the young father.

Gohan!

Goku's panic was short lived. His son was comfortably curled up in his lap, thumb in mouth and still asleep. Sighing he allowed himself a moment of reprieve. Gohan was safe. He hadn't killed those people in vain But where was he? Around him the metal shell of the pod began to vibrate with turbulence and Goku braced himself as well as he could, clutching Gohan's sleeping frame tightly. The boy began to stir, eyelids cracking open slowly.

"Daddy?" the boy asked uncertainly.

Goku shushed him, "It's okay, Gohan. We're going to be fine."

The child ducked his face against his father's chest as the pod landed roughly, jolting the pair of them. Gohan began to wail and Goku was attempting to comfort him as the door hissed open. A scaly alien peered inside.

"Welcome, Kakarrot," he greeted sinisterly, "to Purging Station 2414."

Goku retreated into the pod as far as it would allow, "Who are you?" he asked above Gohan's cries.

The being smiled and showed far too many teeth, stepping aside for a much larger alien to have a look. He was enormous with thick muscles and a height that dwarfed everyone and everything around him. He reached into the pod and grabbed Goku roughly by the shoulder, hoisting him and Gohan out.

"I'm Nappa," he introduced, setting Goku on his feet. "You've been assigned to me."

Goku blinked, looking around the hangar. There were pods and ships everywhere with strange creatures pouring in or out of them. "Where am I?"

"Purging Station 2414," Nappa answered, repeating the information that had already been relayed by the scaly alien. "This place will be your home until you have been fully trained and given commission. I have been assigned as your trainer at your brother's request."

So Raditz had sent them here to become what he was – a monster who annihilated planets for money. "Sorry," said Goku, "but I'm going to have to say no."

Nappa chuckled, "You misunderstand, Kakarrot. You don't have any other option."

Goku stared the giant Saiyan down. "There's always a choice."

"Not this time," Nappa said flatly. "Delgren, take the child. Prince Vegeta will be along shortly to collect it."

The scaly alien began attempting to wrestle Gohan his father's arm. When Goku tried to fight back he found his body weakened from his time spent hibernating in the pod, the creature called Delgren was able to overpower him. It bit him hard on the neck, fangs sinking into the tender fleshy and administering a mild poison that would cause a lapse in muscle control. Goku's eyes filled with alarm as all expression faded from his face along with his ability to move. He began to fall and Delgren easily plucked Gohan away from him.

"No... wait..." Goku gasped, fighting hard against the venom in his veins. Nappa picked him up and slung him over his shoulder roughly. His head lolled to the side and Goku found himself staring at a very amused and very upside down Delgren.

"Relax, Kakarrot. Delgren is in command of this place. He oversees all of this" – he gestured around the hangar – "and none of it ever goes awry. He's trustworthy. He'll take care of your whelp."

Nappa continued, carrying Goku out of the hangar and leaving Gohan behind as he did so. Immobilized, Goku screamed inside of his own skull. "Your brat will be in our Prince's care. It hasn't been decided yet what will be done with him, but you know how it is. Higher ups never have a clear plan when it comes to us Saiyans. They just close their eyes and hope for the best. He's safe for now, though, so don't you go doing anything stupid. You come from idiot stock, if your dumbass of a brother hadn't already brought you to that conclusion. It's in your best interest for you to try to differentiate yourself from Raditz. We can't stand to have another weakling in our midst."

Goku's only response was a steady thwack thwack thwack as his head bounced with each step against the burlier Saiyan's side. While his body was still his mind ran, trying to understand and digest everything that Nappa was telling him. Gohan was going to be wherever this prince was and would be safe for now. That fact alone set Goku at ease. Somewhat. He felt inclined to trust Nappa, who spoke easily about the situation and seemed to have a good grasp on what was going on and what would happen next. Goku already knew he would have to find Gohan and escape this place – he just didn't know how he would do that.

Nappa stopped walking and Goku listened as he pressed a handful of buttons and opened a door. It was a dark and tiny bedroom with two bunks, one of which Nappa dumped him on unceremoniously. Goku stared at the ceiling.

"Remain here," Nappa ordered. "Delgren's toxins should be wearing off in fifteen to twenty minutes. I will return by then with new uniforms for you. When you are able, you will dress and we will begin your training in Arena 3."

Nappa left and the door closed behind him, cloaking the room in darkness. There was nothing to do but wait. Impatiently, Goku began to test his poisoned muscles. Within five minutes he was able to flex his fingers and he smiled into the nothing. Nappa hadn't expected Goku begin making a recovery from Delgren's attack for at least another ten minutes. But he could already move his fingers, and he could feel pinpricks all over the rest of his awakening body. Nappa had underestimated his strength.

Goku formed a fist. Good.

Chapter Five: Man-in-Motion

Edited by foot soldier, Sep 18 2013, 03:24 AM.
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