Day Four: Early Morning

[Bardock]

Bardock walked the lonely walk back to the campsite they had made the day before. He hiked up the path to the waterfall and dumped his pack by the shore. The fighter knelt down and splashed his face with the cold water, wiping away the blood and sweat and dirt. As is slid down his features and off his chin, its numbing effects soothed his anger. A few more handfuls and he was good to go. It was time to get down to business.

There was no fear of attack. It was only a few hours to the finale, and everyone else would be doing exactly what he was: preparing for battle.

First things first, Bardock set his lantern out, lit it, and pulled out the medical equipment he’d pilfered from the dead bodies. Carefully, he removed the make-shift splint that Violet had so painstakingly applied. He broke off the twigs and the wire, and pulled away the strips of cloth. Against the lantern light, Bardock could see that it hadn’t gotten much better, and the effects of the tea had worn off. The flesh was sore to the touch, and had the saiyan not been in a serious mood, he would have laughed at the irony. It looked like the hand had started to get infected.

Producing some antiseptic and two syringes, the fighter cleaned off the surface before first injecting a local painkiller, followed by a steroid mixture, holding the tubes between his teeth to flick them and squirt them first. One would deaden the pain, and the other would increase protein synthesis, allowing him to use it even if it was crushed. Finally, Bardock wrapped it in bandages, slipped on a brace, and started to test out the appendage. With much concentration and a supplement of ki, he could amply rotate the wrist and slowly flex the fingers. That was all he needed.

Now somewhat enabled with two hands, Bardock gritted his teeth as he pulled off his bullet-riddled armor. The shirt underneath was soaked with blood, and as much as he tried to staunch the flow, it was still trickling from the wounds. Each hole was carefully sanitized, and Bardock pulled a pair of forceps out of the bag, beginning his attempt to pull each one out. A low grunt rose from his throat as the sting from the fragmented ki shells were slowly withdrawn from his punctured muscle. When that was done, and the last bullet had been removed, Bardock took the profile of his thumb and activated his pyrokinesis, searing the holes closed. One more cocktail of painkiller and steroids was injected to his side, and using the last of the bandages, the fighter wrapped them tightly around his abdomen to keep the muscles taut.

He slipped his soaked shirt back on, but left his previous armor discarded: Bar had something better…the ki-proof vest. He tossed it over his shoulders, and firmly strapped each side down.

First half down, next half: armaments.

Bardock threw away the remainder of his health supplies, having no further need of them. All that was left in his pack that was useful was days-old bread and a few bottles of water. Despite the fact that the bread was rock hard at this point, the saiyan warrior nonetheless forcefully chewed it down, chasing the dry, stale taste with mouthfuls of water. He inspected the rocket launcher, making sure all parts were well oiled and in good working condition. That was the heavy artillery, the big fucking gun. With no supplies to clean it, he had to assume it was going to work the best it was able to. He slung it over his shoulder, testing his ability to whip it out and fire it off. No safety, fully loaded.

Next, Bardock moved onto the nail gun. He spun it around a couple times on his finger. It wasn’t as compact as a pistol, and the weight was unevenly distributed. Taking aim in the dark, the saiyan fired off a couple of rounds, listening as each nail thunked into something. There was still plenty of ammunition left, although he had a feeling he wasn’t going to need very many. Just enough to go around. He holstered it in his belt. It may have been Violet’s, but it was just another weapon now, just another way to kill somebody.

The best was saved for last: his axe, his trusty bladed friend. Two more notches were carved in the handle, putting its mark to four kills. Bar dipped the blade into the pool of water, cleaning off all the blood that had crusted against the metal. Finding a rock, he began to sharpen the edges. With each scrape against the hard stone, he thought about how he was going to meet his competition.

There would be no revenge. There would be no anger. There was nothing holding him back anymore. He had nothing left to lose. It was going to be pure. It was going to be him and them, and a whole lot of dying.

Sparks flew from the razor end of the metal, their flicker illuminating the determination in Bardock’s eyes. Each flash showed the coldness of a warrior, the willingness to surrender to his craft.

He blew off the dust of metallic shavings from the edge, running the profile of his thumb just below the tip. It was ready. He was ready. For just a moment, Bardock set the axe down, pulling his bloodstained bandana from his pocket. Stoically, the fighter wrapped it around his forehead and tied it down, giving it a good, solid tug. Retrieving the axe, Bardock took a long, hard look at the waterfall before turning around.

The saiyan began his walk, an amber aura igniting. This was the final walk. This was the walk to his end.

A smirk slowly crossed his face. He hadn’t really had a chance to cut loose with his Super Saiyan abilities. This was going to be the perfect opportunity to go and play. Despite everything that had happened, he was still excited. He couldn’t help it. The thought just got his motor running. Slowly, his black spikes floated into the air, billowing about in the gentle breeze of his golden power. With eyes of teal, Bardock marched to the last battlefield. They were going to be gunning for him, the same as he was going to be gunning for them.

Let them come.