Day Two: Early Morning

[Bardock]

Before the two knew it, Reijin was gone and they were back in familiar surroundings. Bardock and Violet stood face to face, and each looked down, noticing something in the others’ hand. The saiyan gripped the medical kit tightly in his free hand, and the human was firmly palming a grenade. Both had grabbed something before they’d been whisked away. Bardock’s breathing was heavy, the rush of the kill electrifying his senses. He needed a few moments to let the buzz fade away. Things had gone exactly as he wanted them too, and to top it off, he’d managed to run into the younger saiyan again. Their mutual respect had allowed them to reach a common goal, and he would have to remember that later down the road.

Bardock rolled his neck and shoulders, letting the thrill of the moment pass as he got down to business. He squatted down, back to the female. She was not his favorite person at the moment. The fighter popped open the medical kit, and analyzed its contents with the flashlight from his scouter. Unfortunately, there was really nothing there that could give him back his ear, and he hadn’t even thought to pick it up wherever it now lay along the battlefield. Instead, he opened a packet of antiseptic and carefully cleaned off the area, disinfecting the wound. Within one of the compartments, he found something interesting: an assortment of artificial parts. There were robotic eyes, hearing aids, and bionic vocal chords. Well, he wasn’t going to get his earlobe back, but at least one of these was going to help. The fighter popped in the hearing aid, tuned it up high, and covered it with a light patch of gauze bandaging. Although the skin was still missing, he was good as new, and there were plenty more supplies left.

Still seething, Violet went off and sat by herself whilst the male busied himself with the usual work of setting up camp. Night had fallen, and it would not do well to go hunting in the dark. Many opportunities lay in wait there, as did so much potential for tragedy. Once finished, Bardock fumbled through his bag and began to chew on the supply of bread that had gone untouched, very particular not to touch the meat that had been cooked earlier. The grainy foodstuff tasted terrible, as it did every year, but it was something. He washed it down with a bit of water, and then set about his weapon. The trusty axe was now stained with blood, and Bardock carefully removed his crimson bandana, using it to clean the blade. Now the blood of Warako was a part of the legacy the cloth held. Within its stained threads was the spilled life-source of both friend and foe, even some of his own. Upon completion, he wrapped the cloth around his wrist for later. Pulling one of the knives from his boot, the fighter carved a deep notch in the wooden handle. One kill, one notch…a victim felled by its edge.

He could feel the eyes upon him, and he looked up, nothing but anger on his face, and nothing but anger staring back at him. All the good feeling of the kill was gone, a temporary drug against the emotion that whaled against him now.

I should have known better.

She was just like all of the others. She threw his effort back in his face. Same old story. When was it going to end? He was reminded why he decided to go it alone the previous year, and then none of this bullshit would ever bother him. He had lived most of his life by his own code, and it was working out pretty well so far. Bardock rustled through the medical kit again, taking stock of its wares. A few particular ingredients leapt out at him, and he had a choice to make. Setting the axe down, Bardock picked up the prized box and carried it over to where she sat. Still furious, Violet glared at him. His face wasn’t exactly friendly either.

Roughly, he grabbed her wounded shoulder, causing her to hiss and curse in pain. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Ignoring her, he quickly disinfected the area around the wound, and grabbed her uncut hand in his, interlacing the digits. Just as rapidly, he wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the head of the nail, and forcefully pulled it out. She screamed, and he winced as her hand squeezed his with a strength that only comes from pain. Attempting to push his throbbing hand out of his mind, he dropped the nail and grabbed a little object that looked like a hot-glue gun. He placed the nozzle in the wound opening and pulled the trigger, and the cavity was quickly filled with a foaming substance that prevented her shoulder from hemorrhaging. Bardock’s squeezed hand felt like the bones were going to break, but after a few moments, the pressure eased. Gently, he unlocked his fingers and let them slip away. The saiya-jin released the gel gun, and grabbed her wrists, one at a time, rubbing ointment on the raw skin. When it came to the hand that was cut, he carefully inspected it before sterilizing it, wondering where exactly it had come from. He pulled a dressing from the kit and expertly bandaged the injury.

All of this with nothing but a look of pure fury on his face.

Bardock closed the kit, wrapped his blood-stained bandana around his forehead, got up, turned around, and walked away. Steam was building and he had to leave. He had to let it go, one way or another. On his way out, he picked up the axe, and angrily hurled it into a tree, where it thudded and stuck upon impact. Before he could stop himself, he let out a roar of frustration.

He hated this. He hated everything.