[01] Doppelgangers!

[Kill Town]

Doppelgangers!

4-person cooperative (kinda)

Summary: The players are teleported to a place that looks like a massive parking garage. Each character is on a separate level, where they will face off against a famous warrior of the past. The goal is to defeat the opponent, or at the very least stay alive.

Hint: These “famous warriors of the past” are your former respective Chubbs characters. So, in other words, Kaden is fighting Raditzu, Ander is fighting Bardock, Sage is fighting Bra, and Xenia is fighting Kirano. Sage and Xenia have the option of fighting together, as both sets of characters are linked together. The others (Kaden and Ander), however, must fight their respective foes alone.

Opportunity: No

Participants: Kaden, Ander, Sage and Xenia

[Kaden]

For someone as ridiculously powerful, charismatic, influential, and ruggedly handsome as Raditzu was, he spent a lot of time waiting around for things to happen. They didn’t always have to be big things. An invasion or civil uprising was plenty to keep him occupied for a weekend. After all, his insertion into just about any conflict, meant it was going to be over damned fast. Though most of the universe was used to that already.

Yawning, and leaning backwards into a long stretch, the saiyan could help but take in his surroundings. For all intents and purposes, it was a parking garage. Specifically, a floor of the world’s largest parking garage. It was so long across that it might take him a full three second to get from one side to the other, and the ceilings were actually tall enough to allow for limited flight. Good for Raditzu, bad for whoever was stupid enough to piss him off.

Well… he didn’t really need to be pissed off to fight someone. He didn’t need much of a reason at all. Sometimes his knuckles just got all antsy if they didn’t clobber something. It was a curse that he had learned to live with and, fortunately, his boiling saiyan blood meant it was also a curse he had come to enjoy. After all, it had put him in the spotlight of countless inter-galactic events and turned him into a martial arts – a title applied mostly because nothing else was close enough – of rock-star status.

Grunting as he came out of an epic yawn – though basically everything he did was epic – the long-haired wonder strutted towards a nearby metal barrel. There were plenty of odd objects scattered about the would-be battleground: metal barrels, wooden palettes, a forklift… basically the contents of a large warehouse, Raditzu realized. It all must have been deposited there for whatever halpless chump crossed his path. He was a weapon, anything else just got in the way, really.

As he came to a stop in front of a barrel, the saiyan snapped his fingers and, instantly, the barrel melted into a puddle of liquid metal. Quivering under the warrior’s influence – as many things did – the puddle of metal quickly began stretching upwards, flattening out and forming a full-length mirror of perfectly polished steel. Taking a quick glance, the saiyan half turned and fluffed his long spikes of raven hair, taking a moment to make sure they were as symmetrical as possible before facing the mirror once again.

He was wearing his usual get-up of saiyan-style armor – though it was a self-modified version of the old Quicksilver armor – that was a solid grey instead of the standard white-and-yellow. From the waist down he wore only a pair of spandex shorts, his boots, and a red band tied to his left thigh. His scouter, superfluous as his Ki Sense often made it, was fastened tightly to his ear. The bracers on either forearm were a mainstay of his arsenal, being regularly manipulated into weapons with his Metal Binding.

Being a construct of a computer, there were many things that “Raditzu” was aware of and, specifically, many things he wasn’t aware of. An account of most of the saiyan’s memories had been uploaded, along with an incredibly accurate recreation of his personality, attitude, mannerisms, and speech patterns. For all intents and purposes, it was the long-haired wonder himself. The only things he really wasn’t aware of were the facts that he was inside a computer and that he was just a collection of code. A very sophisticated and intricate collection of, but code nonetheless. Similarly, he knew he was waiting for someone in that parking garage, but he neither knew nor cared why.

As he flashed himself an award-winning smile, the saiyan spun around and, with a flourish, assumed the pose that his statue on Kajin Rala stood in. With one hand on his hip, and held aloft in a fist of triumph, the saiyan’s grin slowly metamorphosed into a smirk of conceit that many fallen warriors had cursed as they leapt from the mortal coil. With a confirming nod – he still had it – the saiyan turned away from the mirror and began sitting down.

Instead of letting him fall onto the ass, the mirror quickly reformed itself into an elaborate, high-back chair that was not entirely unlike a throne. Even after his sixty-someodd years of living – keeping track after a while had just lost its appeal; awesomeness transcended age, after all – it wasn’t often that Rad got tired of watching himself strike a dramatic pose. People often thought that such things were spur-of-the-moment theatrics, but it took a lot of practice to know how to pose to get the desired effect; there truly was an art to it.

“Tch…” Rad frowned as his eyes scanned over his monotonous surroundings for the thirteenth time. “This is gettin’ real boring real fast.”

As if in response to his complaint, a portal tore open in the space directly before the saiyan. From his throne, he watched as a young, blonde-haired human came stumbling through. Losing his balance, the kid tripped and fell to his knees, looking up quickly at the imposing sight before him. Leaning sideways, the saiyan let his hand prop up his head as he crossed his legs. The boredom written across his face would have been evident to anyone.

Though he tried to put up an uninterested front, Raditzu couldn’t help but smile as the human’s eyes widened as recognition replaced his expression of confusion. The blonde tried to climb up to his feet, but Raditzu had other ideas. Exerting his energy, the saiyan filled the air with such an imposing aura, a force so heavy and suffocating, that the boy was unable to bring himself off of his knees. Slowly, as though fighting his own boredom, Raditzu stood from his throne.

“So, what’d they send me? Tch. Not much, by the looks of it.” At the saiyan’s feet, the boy remained silent. His eyes, however, darted about taking in as much of his surroundings as possible. “You know who I am?” It was barely more question than statement. “Well?” he pushed after a moment of silence.

“More or less,” was the reply he got.

“Then you should know how fucked you are, kiddo.”

With a grin, Raditzu lashed out with his foot, catching his opponent in the shoulder. Crying out in pain, the boy was lifted off all fours and thrown backwards several feet. Rad could only shake his head. He had barely exerted any effort and the kid acted like his shoulder had been broken. A straight-up fight was out of the question if he was going to get any kind of entertainment out of the encounter.

“Now see, this is somethin’ ya just hate t’see,” Rad seemed to be speaking more to himself than anyone else. “There’re so many things I could be doin’ anywhere across the universe. Ending wars… starting wars… catching pirates, killing magical beasts, disrupting social order… hell, I could just be sittin’ back and enjoyin’ a meal. Or two. Instead, I’m here dealin’ with some little human. I almost feel bad for ya, little guy. I’m closest thing to a god you’ll ever see.” Raditzu raised his arm and leveled an open palm at his opponent’s still prone form before stopping to consider his last statement. “Well… until I kill you. I’m pretty sure Yenma’s a god, anyway.”

With a shrug, Rad let a small burst of ki fly from his hands. He didn’t target the human directly, but instead aimed the ground directly in front of him. The ground exploded, sending the courier sliding several more feet from his over-powered opponent. Raditzu simply sighed and began taking slow steps to follow his foe.

“Let me level with ya, kid,” the saiyan’s voice suddenly took a more serious tone, as though was a deeper meaning to the words he was about to speak. “I scare people like you: people who’re weak. They should be scared. My strength, this overwhelmin’ mass of unstoppable power standin’ before you, isn’t an accident. I didn’t just wake up one day with the power to destroy entire god-damned planets. Hell no. It was a lotta damned work. Years upon years upon years of givin’ it my all and workin’ my fingers to the bone. I’ve seen it all, I’ve done it all, and you sure as hell better believe I’ve killed it all. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Raditzu H. Christ.”

Despite the seriousness in his voice, the smile never faded from the saiyan’s lips. It was neither good-natured or sinister. To the boy, it was much worse. It showed a pure, unadulterated indifference. It was a smile that could endure no matter what its owner was going through. It was that smile that unnerved the human, not the bragging or the bravado.

“So,” Rad said, obviously drawing his speech to a conclusion. “You can imagine how my frustration at bein’ tossed in… here and left to wait. I’m waitin’, and waitin’ and waitin’. By now, I own this damned place. When I finally figure out what’s comin’ down the line, I get to sit by while they send me… this?” The saiyan shook his head in disgust.

It had taken the length of his speech, but the kid was finally back up to his feet. Rad didn’t really care, it wouldn’t make a difference. He could feel the human’s strength and knew, without a doubt, that nothing he could do would possibly change the outcome of their encounter. In case there was any confusion in his mind, Rad spoke one more time before striking again.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” the smile faded from the saiyan’s face. “You’re my bitch. Now and forever.”

[Celena]

The teenager trillionaire under the alias Gamer glanced through one CCTV camera after another, pleased with the progress of the robots that had been assigned to bring the game participants. The control room’s double doors slid open and in came four robots, three with coated in human flesh while the other’s left hand and wrist showed his robotic structure.

“What?” asked Gamer, spinning his chair around to face them.

The robot with eaten flesh and a black ponytail took two steps forward. “We have retrieved the young woman known as Xena, as you requested.”

“I know; that’s why I have CCTV camera’s, now get the hell out of here!”

“We will once we get paid.”

“Should we take care of them?” asked a security guard to Gamers’ left hand side.

“You don’t get paid.” He glanced at the other three. “None of you get paid.”

“We demand pay. If you refuse, we will destroy you.”

For someone who was half the size of Q-1000, Gamer should have been intimidated, but it was the opposite. “Ahahahaha! I have hundreds of robots, what makes you think you four are important?”

“Pay us now or you will be destroyed. This is your final warning.”

The rich teen pushed his chair backwards and then twirled in it, and then reached for a red button on his control panel. “Suck my cock,” he said, pressing it down. With a “wheee” noise as he twirled his chair around, he watched as the robots deactivated, all four collapsing to the ground like useless pieces of scrap metal. “Someone clean this mess up!”

====

Xenia opened her eyes to find herself in a new environment. Although the sun beamed down from the sky, the weather was mild unlike how scorching hot it was when she was at the canyon.

The canyon , she realised.

As she turned her body to her left hand side to view the grass she lay on, she released a groan of agony due to the strain she felt all over her body. That was when she remembered the four humans who had been sent to bring her to a game show. There was no sign of them around. Her surrounding consisted of colourful tents and stools, corny music accustomed for kids, the kind you would hear at a funfair. The funfair rides that towered over the tents confirmed her location.

How did she get here? In order to answer that question, she retraced her memory as best as she could. Explosions echoed through her mind. Ki orbs had bombarded her from three different directions. Contrary to having passed out, the orbs had not been destructive. The fact that she was not wounded proved that. It was slightest of impacts of the orbs and the speed at which they had stricken her strained muscles that had caused her to eventually pass out. If not for the fact that she had been drained due to having teleported an excessive amount of times, she believed she would have beaten all four of them. They were lucky that was all. None of that explained what she was doing at a funfair though, a seemingly empty one.

It took a lot of strength and willpower to sit up, breathing heavily after her triumph. Her eyes scanned her surroundings once more and it was only from glancing up at a large billboard which read ‘KILL TOWN’ that she was able to absorb and then digest her fate. They had succeeded in capturing her but yet that did not explain why she was not in some chamber like Damon Duke’s placed her in, or tied and gagged like Kai Demolic had done to her. There were not even any guards around; in other words this was her queue to leave. In a flash she disappeared. The smile of pride due to the fact that she had possessed enough energy to orb was quickly removed when she reappeared back at the funfair, in the same position. She frowned as she watched the black particles from her Dark Orbing technique slowly dwindle around her. Suddenly, she felt a familiar tingle rattle through her body, causing her to collapse onto fours, dipping her head down towards the carnivals grass. It seemed as though she was still fatigued.

“Hiiiii Princess Xena!”

The unexpected feminine voice caused the heiress to lose balance and drop onto her face.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Ohhhh! I wish I had a camcorder. Oh wait, you’re already on CCTV.”

Xenia frowned as she rose her head up, but the frown turned into a look of surprise as she gazed at a hologram that contained a young and attractive brunette haired woman with tanned skin, who stood at roughly the same height as the hybrid. Her blue leather outfit exposed her lean build.

“I’m Mixie by the way and I work for Gamer, creator of Kill Town.”

“Why am I here, at a funfair?”

“It’s a carnival and you’re here to enjoy yourself obviously.”

“Your explanation lacks depth, if that should even be classified as an explanation,” replied Xenia, groaning as she rose to her knees. It caused the associate of Gamer to laugh and made the hybrid disliked her even more. Mixie was fit for circus acts in her opinion. This place was meant for her instead of the princess.

“You want depth huh; well I’ll give you depth. Wanna know why you can’t teleport?”

“Oh please do tell,” replied Xenia sarcastically.

“You’re rude.”

“Oops, my bad, it’s not every day I find myself in this predicament.”

“You’re acting like this is a bad thing.”

“You’ve sidetracked long enough, answer my question.”

“What was the question again?”

Xenia sighed, shaking her with pity in response to the incompetent brunette. “Why can’t I teleport?”

“Oh, it’s because we’re in a virtual world. Have you seen The Matrix?”

“Yes.”

“Like that. The only way you can leave Kill Town is when the game show is over. I’d keep on going but Gamer is probably listening.”

====

The rules were simple, play the game, play to win or die trying to win. Once again, a rich prick wanted to fuck her over for the sake of entertainment. She had no sympathy whatsoever for planet earth and its inhabitants. Her dad had once told her what a cruel and wicked place earth wa, but she always assumed he was exaggerating. It turned out he was telling the truth. The sooner she left this condemned planet the better, but first she had to win the game and then destroy Gamer.

Once Gamer had finished his speech, two robots holding guns approached Xenia and ushered her through a blue coloured portal. She was beginning to get tired of the whole portal phase; nevertheless, she had no choice but to put up with it, for now. A sudden sharp cry escaped her lips as a force shifted her body forwards, and then she could not help but scream like she used to whenever she would go on a wild rollercoaster ride when she was a child, as her body raced through the portal, eyes quickly achieving dizziness due to dazzling colour of blue which seemed to be a blur due to how fast she was travelling.

The portal opened up, revealing a new location which the princess could not clearly envision due to her impaired sight. Her movement dramatically decreased as she reached the mouth of it. She was then slowly ejected from it like toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube. She landed on her back. The ground’s surface felt like concrete. Moments later, she discovered that it had indeed been concrete because she was a car park. Xenia rose to her feet and rubbed her face in hope of relieving herself from her state of dizziness; it helped.

Another gushing noise came from behind; that w as when she realised that the portal had not closed up. She took several steps backwards, tilting to the left and right after each step, clearly showing signs that she had yet to fully regain her composure, regardless, she entered her traditional fighting stance and waited for her foe(s) to step out.

A blue haired girl came out, landing on her back with an oof sound. Xenia immidately dropped her guard. “Sage.”

Her twin sat up, hands on her hair, head dipped towards the ground. Xenia walked towards her. When the blue haired princess realised someone was coming towards her, she crawled backwards but then stopped moving once she looked up to see who had approached her. She studied the blonde haired girl’s face for a while to make sure the person standing over her was not a mirage. Xenia smiled at her therefore she had to be an illusion.

“Just gonna sit there like a little lump of sugar?” asked the spiky haired girl.

It was her.

Sage quickly rose to her feet. “Xena!” she yelled, running to her sister, wrapping her arms around her. Tears quickly streamed out of her eyes, flowing down her face. “I missed you,” she sobbed. Xenia’s smile was still there as she peered down at her sisters blue hair, and then she did something for the first time, placed her left hand on Sage’s hair and used the other to embrace her. “I missed you too... cry baby.” Sage giggled, closing her eyes, burying her face into her sibling’s chest which felt so warm. She smiled as she listened to her sister’s steady heartbeat, not wanting this moment to ever end. Xenia’s finger gently caressed her sister’s hair, showing a side she used to bear before the tragic event that took place when they were thirteen. She missed those days. She would never forgive the man who had transformed them both into their respective characters today.

In reality, moments like these could be remembered forever, but moments like these could not last forever. The opening of another portal caused Xenia to slip out of her sister’s hold and then turn around to face it. “Get ready,” she said to Sage while her eyes remained firmly on the green coloured portal. “Get ready to show me what you’ve learnt while I’ve been away and I’ll show you what I’ve learnt.” A smile appeared on her face, itching to show her twin how much she had grown, itching to impress her as she was fond of doing.

Two figures emerged from the portal, first a woman and then a man. “Mom and Dad!” the twins blurted out at the same time.

The parents standing before them were younger versions, the Kirano and Bra of this world, their father, looking fresh in his early twenties, and their mother, looking lovely in her late teens. Both wore blue jeans and black leather jackets. Kirano went the extra distance with black shades which he took off and tucked onto the neck of his jacket. From the shape, Xenia could clearly tell that they were Armani shades. She had to admit, these were two great artificial copies that could fool anyone other than her. The copy even dressed like her dad who was a fashion guru, and of course, a show-off. Whenever he wanted to go out looking flashy, he always made sure Bra looked it too.

“They’re not out real parent, said Xenia to her sister telepathically. Sage gazed at her in shock but then her agape mouth closed when she realise that she should not have been surprised that Xenia had acquired telepathy. This was the same girl who had transformed into a Super Saiyan right before her eyes. In her opinion, her blonde haired sister was probably ten times stronger than her by now.
Sage turned to face the couple in front of them. “They look real.”

“I just know they aren’t...but if they possess the same level of power as our parents, we’re in serious trouble,” she said quietly.

“Xena, you’re fighting me, Sage, you’re up against your mum,” said the English accented Kirano.

Sage whimpered.

“At least you haven’t got dad,” said Xenia. “Mom may be stronger but think about it, we’re in a car park full of vehicles. If he has Metal Binding, imagine what he could do.” A chill ran down the elder sister’s spine.

“Hey kids,” said the blonde haired man who put an arm around the green haired woman. “School is now in session.”

[Kaden]

It was hard not to smile as the boy’s eyes widened in fear. Sadly, the fear was quickly replaced with confusion. It was an understandable reaction that the saiyan had actually seen many times before. Many a warrior had confronted Raditzu with bright-eyed dreams of making a name for themselves, and almost all of them had balked as soon as the saiyan made his first move. It’s hard to be confident fighting something you can’t see.

More than his raw physical strength, his explosive energy, his cocky attitude, or his plethora or virtually every technique thought to be unique throughout the galaxy, Rad’s greatest asset was his raw speed. Very few creatures in throughout the universe could keep up with him at full throttle. He couldn’t blame them, either. Hell, sometimes he had trouble keeping up with what was going on.

Something that most people didn’t realize about the long-haired wonder was that he was actually an incredibly patient person. Patience, however, when you’re one of the fastest being in the galaxy, meant something completely different. To others it seemed like he always had to be doing something or watching something, but most of them didn’t understand what it was like to feel the passing of every second. He didn’t actually care if anyone else understood him, but still…

To the boy’s credit, he tried to keep up with his opponent. It wouldn’t matter, though, no amount of effort would be able to bridge the truly monumental – as most things about the saiyan were worthy of monuments – gap in their strength. To say that the human had any amount of strength was rather misleading. He was as weak and pathetic as every other human that stepped before Raditzu. He would fall, just as they all did.

Yawning loudly, Raditzu tapped the kid’s jacket-clad shoulder, watching in amusement as he whirled about. Concern and confusion were definitely written across his face, but the saiyan caught a gleam of something else. Something he didn’t usually see in an opponent. More surprising, though, were his eyes. They were suddenly alight with energy, glowing a surprisingly fierce red. Whatever trick he was trying to pull would, ultimately, be useless. The words the boy spoke, though, were quite amusing.

“You… didn’t teleport,” his words came slowly, but assuredly. He definitely seemed to be talking to himself, though.

“Nope. I could, though, if ya’d like.”

Instantaneously, the saiyan was on the other side of the parking garage, whistling at the blonde. As the kid turned towards the sound, Rad teleported one more time, traversing the length of the entire area before teleporting for a final time to put himself standing directly before the human. It had been an unnecessarily showy display, but that’s what he did.

“I’ve got plenty of other tricks, too, but it’s been almost two minutes since the last time I hitcha.”

The kid braced himself as best he could, but was completely unprepared for what happened next. Very slowly, the saiyan reached out with his hand, letting it hover just in front of his opponent’s head. Curling in his middle finger, Rad gripped it tightly with his thumb. After letting the tension build up for a second or two, Rad released the coiled finger, letting it slam unerringly into his foe’s forehead.

“What the hell?!” the human cried as he stumbled backwards from the force of the blow – yes, even Rad’s fingers were strong.

Sadly, the human didn’t seem to be particularly well-versed in combat. Taking his eyes off the saiyan to rub his forehead was almost enough to get the long-haired wonder to take pity on him. Instead, he shot forward and drove his fist into the kid’s stomach. That was kind of like pity. To the kid’s credit, he didn’t actually drop to his knees. His eyes did look like they were about to bug out of his head, but it was something.

Retracting his fist, Rad reached out and clenched the human’s neck tightly in his hand. Pain was quickly replaced with panic as he realized he was being hoisted off of his feet. With a good nine or ten inches difference in their height, it was a long journey for the kid, and Rad was in no rush. He tried to struggle against the vice-like grip – so many people had – but it didn’t do him any good. Finally they were brought eye-to-eye and the saiyan let his hand slowly tighten. It was a little more sadistic than he needed to be, sure, but it would keep him occupied that much longer.

Resisting the urge to yawn, Rad watched as the kid brought his hands up to the saiyan’s arms, probably hoping to free himself. Points for persistence, but it would ultimately be meaningless. His boredom, however, quickly turned to curiosity as the kid poked him in the elbow. That had definitely been a first. Who would think to poke someone… ?

“What the hell..?” Raditzu stared in amazement.

Reaching to Rad’s hand, the saiyan watched as his captive actually managed to pry open his hand and release himself. Though he considered being irritated at the turn of events, Rad couldn’t mask his interest in what his opponent had done. It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to figure out the extent of the boy’s technique, but he didn’t seem to mind too much. After all, he only needed one hand to take care of some simple human.

Raditzu almost had it within him to compliment the jacket-clad combatant on a rather intriguing technique, but that urge was quickly squelched as a bolt of ki crashed into his face. The saiyan’s vision was momentarily obscured by a cloud of dispersing blue ki, and when it returned, he just looked annoyed. Admittedly, it had been a smart move, something he, himself, would have done. But if you’re going to do it…

“Ya gotta do it right, kiddo,” Rad said as he leveled his unlocked arm at the human.

A ball of bright white ki burst to life and was about to rocket forward when the kid let loose with another burst of energy. The arrow-like bolt of ki struck Raditzu’s hand, where he had been gathering his own strength and, once again to the saiyan’s surprise, the ball of burning white energy in his hand shattered. In the aftermath of Kaden’s Break, Raditzu came to the conclusion that, despite the difference in their strength, that human was far more skilled in the manipulation of energy than the saiyan himself. That was fine. He could admit when someone was better than him. He wouldn’t, but he probably could.

“Yer not leavin’ me a whole lotta choice here, blondie.”

Taking a menacing step forward, Raditzu held his right hand aloft – the one that was Lock free – for his opponent to see. From beneath his armor slithered several tendrils of metal. They coiled around his arm, flattening and extending until not a single cell of skin showed through. Amazingly, the metal rippled and expanded as the saiyan twisted, turned, and flexed the appendage. Though some sort of mental command, a series of slit opened up along the saiyan’s metal-clad forearm, allowing ki to be vented outwards. It was a propulsion system that Raditzu used to deliver high-speed high-power blows. It had served him well in the past.

The saiyan’s slow steps forward were interrupted by a barrier that shimmered to life in his path. Tilting his head, the long-haired warrior reached out with his metal hand and tapped against its surface. As he did, his opponent made a crude hand gesture and, with a pulse of energy, the saiyan was pushed several steps away from the barrier. He actually laughed as he approached it for a second time.

“Ya got some pretty neat tricks, there. Too bad it’ll take more’en tricks to save ya.” Rad tapped his chin with a finger as he considered something. “Maybe ya don’t know just whatcher up against. See it on TV, or readin’ about it in a book ain’t the same. Until ya’ve witnessed this kinda power yerself… Heh… ya just can’t understand it.”

Taking a step away from the human’s barrier, Raditzu grinned at him, held up a single finger, and mouthed to words “part one.” As he did, a blazing aura of fiery crimson energy enveloped his body, wreathing him in powerful flames. The human, who’s eyes were still alight, squinted and looked away, apparently unable to even look upon the saiyan’s magnificence.

Holding up a second finger, Rad’s grin widened. “Part two” kicked off with a monumental explosion of energy that tore through battlefield. The shimmering, cerulean barrier was shattered simply from the pressure of the saiyan’s strength. A mass of golden locks waved majestically through the air, propelled by the force exerted from Raditzu’s body. His normally black eyes shined a deep, rich turquoise, and were filled with the unparalleled confidence and passion of a saiyan who seemed to know no fear.

The third, and final part, of the saiyan’s display actually threw the human from his feet, which was not an entirely unheard of response. Raditzu watched as he attempted to pull himself to his feet, but the he could barely lift his head to watch the true strength that burned within the saiyan warrior. An aura of energy exploded outwards, its brilliant golden light bathing everything in its glow. Surrounded in his own brilliance, his hair a waving standard of strength, and his eyes burning with the primal urges that burned within all saiyans, Raditzu didn’t have to speak a word.

Understand seemed to slowly dawn upon the human’s face. He was outclassed, he was outmatched, and he was undeniably screwed. His time had been short, his power woefully insufficient, and his worth… well… he had no worth. He may have been able to become something, someday, but he would never get the chance. He sat cowering in the saiyan’s shadow, knowing only one thing mattered. He had not been sent to fight; he had been sent to die.

[Sage]

Traveling through a psychedelic wormhole into another place altogether sounds awesome. But when you’re rocketing through an acid trip light show teleportation device while you’re chasing harder than you ever have before, things take on a different light.

In Sage’s case, the whole experience sucked. Landing ass-backwards onto concrete was fun, too. She considered the fact that if she had been lucky enough to be a masochist, she would have lived one of the best lives a person could live up to this point.

The azure haired girl considered just sitting wherever she was and wallowing in misery for the foreseeable future, but as she tried to hold her head from splitting apart, she caught sight of someone coming toward her.

Apprehension turned to elation when she found out it was her sister lording over her, and not some creep like Damon Dukes or Kai Demolic or any of those psychotic bastards who kept on kidnapping her like she was the princess in a Mario game.

The sisters embraced each other, and for the first time in as long as Sage could remember, she felt... important. That her sister had no idea how much her kind words - even veiled as insults - meant to the smaller hybrid didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had finally found her big sister.

It didn’t last. Nothing good ever did. Not for Sage, anyway. A portal like the one she was plunged into opened before them, and Xenia pushed ahead, always ready to protect the blue haired girl.

Her eyes widened, however, when her sister prompted her to get ready to fight. Xenia had never placed any trust in her abilities before. Despite the pain and the nausea and the overwhelming cravings consuming her, Sage smiled the brightest smile she had in ages. It was one that the blonde couldn’t see, as she stood just ahead of Sage, but it was there.

- - - - -

It was definitely a bizarre way to meet her parents. ‘Parents,’ Sage mentally corrected herself. Xenia said they weren’t real, and she seemed so confident about it. Sage had no reason to question it.

Bra kissed Kirano on the cheek, and gingerly pulled his arm up off from around her, and very deliberately made her way toward Sage, her hips swaying to and fro as she moved, almost literally gliding across the pavement.

Her eyes roved up and down her smaller opponent, and cracked a devilish smirk as Sage’s eyes widened in fear, and then took shaky steps backward in an effort to match Bra’s forward motion. The cyan haired halfling’s eyes never left Sage’s as she drew closer and closer, while Sage kept moving further and further away, until she felt something cold and solid at her back.

Sage cringed. Somehow, despite the sheer enormity of the parkade, she had backed into one of the support pillars. Her mother was quick to close the gap, leaning forward until their noses very nearly touched.

Bra craned her neck to look over her shoulder, watching for a moment as Xenia and Kirano took their respective fighting stances, before returning her gaze to Sage. She frowned. “How is this even fair?” she pouted to her husband. “The one with your looks has the balls to stand up to you, and I’m stuck with this... hairball.”

“Dunno, babe,” came the reply. “Luck of the draw, I guess?”

“Whatever,” was Bra’s less-than-enthused response. Her sneer didn’t change much as she locked eyes with her daughter. “So, you just gonna stand there? I’ve got a whole planet to run now; I don’t really have much time for this, you know?”

“B-But you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m your mom,” Bra waved it off. “So what? You and your sister are back at the palace asleep, right now. If I kill you, it’s not really killing you, is it? I mean, they’ll grow up to be... you. Well, not you, I hope.”

Tears streamed from Sage’s face. The pulse-pounding headache didn’t even matter in the face of her mother’s callousness. Sage knew her mother’s strength; there wasn’t even any point in trying to defend herself. If Bra wanted it, she would be dead already. But that wasn’t even it. Did she really mean nothing to her? She’s not real, Sage reminded herself. But she couldn’t help but wonder what her real mother thought.

Seven years of mediocrity. Her parents were disappointed when Sage’s powers vanished. They tried to figure it out; subjected her to observations and treatments and things, never once asking if Sage simply didn’t want to use them anymore. She finally stopped showing up for training sessions altogether. Nobody really looked into that, either. Maybe because she was constantly occupied with books and studies. She was a doctor now, for all the good that did her. Her mother was a saiyan king and her father a fiercely powerful human. Maybe they were disappointed in her and her sister. Neither had really pursued the career of a warrior.

“I...” the girl fell silent. “I-”

“Look, kid, I’m sure you’re a sweet girl, so this... is going to bother me for a while,” Bra sighed, reaching up to brush a stray strand of her silky hair out of her eyes. Her other hand came up, pulsing with vibrant, blue energy.

Sage knew that energy.

Reacting before she knew what she was doing, Sage lashed out, stabbing at her mother’s face with a massive set of claws. Blurring out of motion, the cyan haired demi saiyan leaned aside, out of harm’s way, while reaching up to catch Sage’s wrist.

“So you can fight?” she remarked, arching an eyebrow. Her cupid-bow lips formed that menacing smirk she had made earlier. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

With an effortless motion, Bra hurled Sage over her shoulder and across the makeshift arena. The quarter saiyan hit the pavement hard, and agonizingly rolled again and again until she abruptly stopped, slapping against a pillar.

Bra slowly made her way toward her, her hands outstretched by her sides. Her fingers flexed, and then all at once, her hands were encased in a block of ice that slowly reformed into claws, like the ones Sage had tried to kill her with. “Now, that is cool,” she paused to swipe at an imaginary target, making it painfully clear to Sage, who was struggling to get up, just how seriously she was taking this fight. “Come on,” her tone suddenly shifted from amused to irate. “Get up.”

Doing her best to comply, the pigtailed girl forced herself onto hands and knees, and fought against the pain that now racked her body and her head, and drunkenly wobbled to her feet. She took a deep stance, finding it easier to hold herself steady that way.

The taller woman flexed her clawed hands, slipping into a much more nimble fighting stance. With a grunt of concentration, Sage formed a pair of Chillrend claws herself, creating them far faster than Bra had been able to, despite her Valium hangover.

Her breathing was starting to come in short, and she’d started shivering. She was already at a huge disadvantage against her mother; this added handicap was just wholly unfair. Just... one pill...

“...Pill of what?” Bra finally inquired, after a fairly long, awkward moment. Sage turned to find both Kirano and Xenia eyeing her for a moment, before Kirano went back onto the offensive against his daughter. The blue haired girl screamed at herself in her head. Xenia wouldn’t let that go. Oh, God, I don’t want to deal with that on top of everything else.

She breathed a sigh, and looked up at Bra. She was being optimistic if she thought she’d live to be lectured by her sister. The seafoam haired girl beckoned for Sage to attack her, and Sage did as she was told, charging at her with claws wide at her sides.

Lashing out in sheer desperation, her technique was blunted. Even if it hadn’t, Bra blurred between Sage’s relentless slashing with the grace of a dancer, easily bobbing and weaving around and away from the vicious claws as Sage pressed her.

Finally, Bra slashed out herself, her claws colliding with the incoming blades on Sage’s hand. To the king’s shock - and to her daughter’s - it was Bra’s weapon that shattered beneath the strain, and Sage’s that came through unscathed. The cyan haired girl stumbled through her follow-through, but whirled around on Sage, her one good claw retreating into nothing.

She bore a look of astonishment. “I have a pretty damn good sense of ki, and I totally did not see that coming. Are you hiding something from me?”

“N-No, I... I don’t-”

“Quit with the fucking stuttering,” Bra snapped. “You’re better than that.”

“I-I’ll try,” Sage nodded affirmatively.

“Good,” Bra offered a brief smile, before she shrugged off her jacket, revealing a white, low cut tank top, and tossed the heavy jacket onto the hood of a nearby sedan. “I don’t really like fighting in this stuff,” Vegeta’s daughter admitted, rotating her shoulder, before working her ankles, wiggling her white-and-pink Converse sneakers. “Just... feels weird. These jeans are kind of constricting,” she remarked, before looking Sage up and down. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I kind of get the same vibe from your get-up. You look hot, but you probably can’t fight so good in that, Sage.”

“It’s-”

“So, let’s see how well you can handle ki,” Bra announced. A quick flick of her wrist loosed a massive ball of bright blue energy, sent sailing straight for little Sage, who stood there like a deer in headlights.

She shrieked, and did her best to cover herself, before the ball hit and exploded. Shaking like a leaf, Sage opened her eyes to meet a wall of sheer ice that she must have formed at the last second to repel Bra’s attack.

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, though, Bra smashed through it, and was upon Sage in an instant, slamming her up against a nearby truck. She held fistfuls of Sage’s dress in her hands, and leaned in, eyes dancing with intrigue. “I was hoping you would use ki to save yourself, but that was something. I could never make that kind of ice so fast.”

“I, um- th-thanks. B-But... I can’t... use ki,” Sage frowned. At that, Bra’s expression soured, too.

“You can’t?” she parroted. “Like, at all?” Bra waited for a response, but Sage’s sorrowful eyes told her all she needed to know. “That sucks,” she pouted, before letting go of Sage and taking a step back. “That’s not gonna make me go easy on you, though. I’m still gonna fuckin’ use ki, and I’m gonna stop just walking around. I’m the fastest fighter in the galaxy-” she paused for a moment, as if considering her words. “Well, the fastest one who matters, anyway,” she grinned at a joke Sage didn’t seem to get. “And I’m not about to waste it. I hope you got something more up your sleeve than a couple of cool ice sculptures, because it’s for real now, Sage.”

[Kaden]

Being captured by a madman to participate in their little game du jour, as many had already pointed out, was getting to be more of a routine than a mind-blowing experience. Kaden had come to regard it with a bittersweet feeling. Yes, they would probably be pitted against any number of otherwise impossible trials, but he was likely to run into a handful of people he actually knew. And if Saturday morning cartoons were to be believed, there wasn’t much they couldn’t overcome when they worked together.

Of course, being forced to split up put a damper on that plan. The pager-like devices at everyone’s waists began to hum and beep and, out of nowhere, portals erupted into existence. The courier frowned when he realized that there was a separate portal for each person in their little group. He had turned from Belle to Piper to Sophia, expressing his hope that they stay safe. He was worried less about the red-haired hybrid than the girls – call it a little sexist, he just couldn’t help himself – but it turned out that he should have been concerned with his own safety most of all.

There were lots of things to be afraid of in the universe, but Kaden was slowly coming to the conclusion that the most dangerous of them all was a person who simply didn’t care. To live a life with no regret, no remorse, no hesitation at the damage one was capable of causing… that was a truly dangerous thing. There was only meaning in a life that had been lived. From the moment he stumbled through his own little portal, Kaden wondered how much meaning people would give his life after that day.

He knew the saiyan. Actually, most of what he knew, at all, about saiyans were extrapolations from that one man. Initially, the courier had admitted that the practice was unfair, but his experience with the tail-bearing race was quickly proving that to rather accurate. They all seemed as blood-thirsty, arrogant, and sociopathic as the last.

The exploits of the long-haired warrior were fairly well known by males Kaden’s age. Even if watching TV weren’t a regular practice, as was the courier’s case, it was difficult to go somewhere without seeing the face. Magazine articles, fliers, radio commercials… it seemed he had done all of the above at some point. Hell, Kaden was sure that, at one time, he had even seen an action figure.

Even as the human stared at the bringer of is undeniable demise, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts turn to the others who had been captured by Gamer. It was all he could do to hope that they, too, wouldn’t meet such unfortunate ends. While the courier wasn’t really a defeatist, there didn’t seem to be a single thing he could do. He couldn’t help but wonder what the afterlife would actually be like for someone like him. He had heard a story or two, but… well… he would get to see soon enough, it seemed.

The irony of his setting was not lost on Kaden. There he stood, a glowing beacon of every single thing the courier hated in the world. Someone who thought they were above it all. Someone who thought that their “strength” gave them the right to toy with the lives of others. Someone who would take the life of another just as easily as he would roll out of bed. And before him, Kaden could do nothing. It seemed his preaching, his speeches, his self-held ideals were all worthless when put to the ultimate test.

Even his Sight failed him, Kaden couldn’t help but think as he watched his saiyan opponent ascend from one state of being over-powered to the next. So blindly was the light that pulsed through the warrior’s body that to peer into it would have been as useful as trying to peer into the sun itself. He would come back none the wiser and much, much more blind. That left him with… what? He could try to blast his opponent, but at that point he might as well thrown balled-up tissue paper. No… the courier was out of options.

In what Kaden would later come to know as a “Super Saiyan” form, there was absolutely nothing he could do. Even the ground seemed to bow to the machinations of the long-haired saiyan, trembling at his show of power. It seemed as though the entire structure might be brought down as the saiyan took slow steps towards his helpless prey.

***

“What the hell is this?” Gamer grumbled. In his hand he held a small earpiece-microphone combo up to the side of his head.

“It’s a perfect replica,” came the reply through Gamer’s earpiece. “Do you know how long it took to code all that?”

“He’s not supposed to be a ‘perfect replica.’ What’s the point in putting the strongest being in the galaxy against some stupid kid? Scale it back!”

“Scale it back?” The voice of Gamer’s partner in crime repeated. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Dropping his earpiece onto the console before him, Gamer fixed his eyes on a particular monitor before him. Raditzu stood, the same stupid grin always plastered across his face, before… Kaden? That seemed to be his name, though it wouldn’t matter if things didn’t get adjusted real soon. Going through the trouble of kidnapping someone and throwing them into his perfect game was meaningless if they were killed off before providing any real entertainment.

Apprehension, about his partner’s willingness to modify his own creation, quickly turned to irritation as Gamer watched the adjustments play out through the monitor. He probably should have expected as much, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Regardless, Magnus had been true to his word. He would simply have to sit back and watch how far he had taken it.

***

In an instant, it seemed as though everything stopped. Kaden winced, bracing himself for whatever the saiyan had done to make the floor stop trembling and the air itself stop crackling. When nothing happened, the courier slowly opened his eyes, not sure whether or not he wanted to see what, exactly, was going on. To his amazement, he saw not a Super Saiyan, but just… a normal one.

“What… what the hell!?” the saiyan roared as he looked down at himself. “What the fuck did you do?!”

“I…” Kaden looked the saiyan up and down. “I have no idea.”

The metal that had previously been wrapped about the saiyan’s arm lay in a liquid puddle at his feet and his hair fell limply against his back, no longer held aloft by his overwhelming power. Willing forth his Sight, Kaden could barely see anything at all. The warrior before him seemed to have as much power in him as a normal human. Maybe more than that, but not by a whole lot.

The same realization seemed to have dawned on the long-haired “wonder” as he opened and closed his fist, trying desperately to call forth some amount of energy. He let loose with a string of expletives, only half of which actually meant anything to Kaden, and turned his anger on the courier. Sadly, his anger didn’t amount to a whole lot. He charged towards the human, his normally incomprehensible speed reduced to a brisk jog.

More out of curiosity than anything else, Kaden met his opponent’s advance by thrusting forward an arm. A ball of energy burst to life within his grip. Flicking his hand open, Kaden let the blast explode outward, catching his opponent in the chest and throwing him to the ground with its explosion. Despite the sudden turning of the tables, the saiyan took it far better than Kaden ever could have.

As he hit the ground, the saiyan vanished in a flurry of hair as he rolled backwards into a crouching position and then lunged behind a stack of wooden palettes.

With his Sight back in action, Kaden didn’t actually need a direct line-of-sight to his opponent to see he was catching his breath behind some cover. Shrugging his shoulder, the courier turned his hand towards the saiyan’s hiding position and let loose with another torrent of ki. Just in the nick of time, the long-haired warrior leapt from his hiding place, skidding along the ground as he braced himself against the second explosion.

Despite having lost the bulk of his power, the saiyan was still over six-and-a-half feet of solid muscle housing a mind and a will that had been forged in the heat of countless battles. Kaden underestimated him for a split second and paid for it.

A lone palette, thrown to safety by the explosion from Kaden’s blast, slid to a rest at the saiyan’s feet. Scooping it up, he spun forward, clutching the palette like a discus, and hurled it towards the human with surprising accuracy. Wanting to avoid a hefty piece of wood to the face, Kaden fell backwards, watching as the make-shift projectile soared over him. Before he could recover, though, the saiyan was on top of him.

The much more experienced warrior would have gained the upper hand if he had actually been in possession of any of his own skills or strength. Sadly, though, he could only swear as he was hurled backwards. A sphere of energy Flared outward from Kaden, propelling his opponent over a dozen yards away. With ample time to pull himself to his feet, Kaden glared down the saiyan.

While he certainly couldn’t say he was free of ego, the courier did not take fights lightly. Every time he unleashed his strength, every call he called upon his power, he was putting someone’s life in danger. He took that responsibility seriously. It was not something to be callously flaunted like the saiyan seemed to do. Despite the words he spoke, there was no grin, no smile, no tone of superiority. To Kaden, it was simple fact.

“I’m no one’s bitch.”

[Kaden]

Unbeknownst to Kaden, the saiyan made a habit of having some kind of witty reply for any scenario. Had he come prepared with that knowledge, he have allowed his opponent time to rebut the statement. Instead, he let a cascade of energy envelope the long-haired warrior. As he watched his opponent be swept away in the current of destructive force, Kaden breathed the briefest sigh of relief and ran his free hand through his hair.

Whatever had happened, whatever god had saw fit to intervene on Kaden’s behalf, he was grateful for it. The fight was very quickly taking a turn in his favor. He had quickly become accustomed to surprising enemies with waves of overwhelming energy. While he still had very mixed feelings about the nature of his power – raw destructive power did not sit well with someone so against killing – it was hard to argue with a proven process. Someone accosted him, underestimated him and then BOOM. So to speak.

For the briefest of moments, the courier considered showing restraint, mercy, against an opponent who had so suddenly been rendered so ineffective. That moment lasted long enough for the saiyan to bring himself to his feet and shoot Kaden that grin. That damnable grin. Was there nothing that would cause a saiyan, that saiyan, to balk? Pain, fear, even death seemed to be no more daunting than afternoon tea. Taking in a deep, long breath, Kaden level a hand at his opponent.

“I don’t like people like you,” the courier began. “I don’t really like anyone who kills, but I especially don’t like people who seem to enjoy it. Maybe you don’t actually enjoy killing, I’ll admit I’m making that leap, but you certainly don’t seem to mind it, and that… that doesn’t sit well with me.”

“And what are ya gonna do ‘bout it?” the saiyan suddenly spoke up.

“What?” A bolt of blue energy rocketed from the courier’s hand, striking the saiyan squarely in the chest. “What would you do about it?”

“Hahahaha,” the long-haired warrior brushed the scorched mark off of his armor as he laughed. “Whatever the hell I wanted. An’ that’s what you’re gonna do. Wanna know why?” The saiyan’s grin widened when Kaden merely narrowed his eyes in response. “Yeah, I though’cha would. It’s cause now you got the power. The person with the power, they get-a make the rules. That’s the way of the universe, kiddo. Don’t let anyone tell ya differently.”

Suddenly filled with anger, the courier let loose with a relentless barrage of energy. With each bolt that struck the saiyan, he was forced back a step. So overcome with disgust, all Kaden could do was scream at the target of his hate as his body flashed bright blue with each blast that left his hand. He let up only when his opponent had been thrown into a massive support pillar for the structure they stood in. Reeling back, Kaden let the energy swell within his hands before thrusting them both forward. The beam of energy that erupted from his form cut through the distance between himself and the saiyan almost instantly.

He heard no cry of pain, no stammering of fear, nothing that would help ease the frustration that had been building within him. The only thing he heard over the roar of energy was laughter. With a scream, the courier pushed a final pulse of energy through his beam. The ensuing explosion threw the saiyan through the pillar that had previously been keeping him on his feet. After rolling to a stop several yard away, all he did was lay on his back and laugh at the human.

“You people,” Kaden’s voice was shaky with anger. “Kai Demolic, Damon Dukes, Gamer… even you. You got what? Money? Influence? Strength? And you think that gives you the right to lord over everyone else. You should be the people setting examples, being role models, helping out. You should be the ones that care about people’s lives. Instead you tread all over them. Doing whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want. You don’t care about the hardships and the suffering of everyone else, even when you’ve been through it yourself. You just continue doing… whatever the hell you do.”

“Like I already said, whatcha gonna do about it?”

Slowly, the long-haired saiyan rolled onto his stomach. Even slower, the saiyan pulled himself onto all fours. Then up to his knees. Finally he managed to bring himself to his feet, wobbling and unstable though they were. All the while he wore the same grin. The same infuriating grin.

There, Kaden found himself put to the ultimate test. Whatever chance he had been given, there was no telling how long it would last or when it would ever come again. Before him stood a merciless, remorseless killer. He would continue to kill, and he would continue to grin. There would be no containing his strength. Even without the abilities he had already demonstrated – teleportation and manipulating metal – there were few walls that Kaden could not imagine him being able to punch straight through. And then he would be back doing what he did do best.

Life was a precious thing, Kaden knew that. A gift to be thankful for each day it was lived. It was the same for everyone, no matter what they had done. Societies, and the people that lived within them, had laws for passing judgment and punishment upon those who had violated the sanctity of life and Kaden was neither judge nor jury. It was supposed to be up to those laws, up to those societies, to ensure the safety of those who trespassed against them. There was no punishing that saiyan. He would be held accountable only for those things he wanted to be held accountable for. His life, his continued existence, was a threat to every other person in the conceivable galaxy. If Kaden really wanted to protect and uphold the sanctity of life, as a whole, he only had one choice. And he would only get that one chance.

“I really do hate you,” the courier finally spoke as he took step after step towards his opponent. “Not just you, but all the people like you. I hate you for what you’ve done. I hate you for what you do. And I hate you for the steps you force other people to take. There’s nothing good about who you are, or what you bring to this world. I may not be able to live with this, but as long as other people are able to live at all, I’ll manage.”

“You’ll live with it,” the saiyan replied, his grin suddenly gone. “We always do. You say ya hate people like me, but that’s just cause you’re tryin’ damned hard to convince yerself you’re not one of ‘em. It starts out small – it always does . In the end, you’ll never even see it comin’.” He shook his head slowly. “Then one day yer standin’ in front’a some kid who thinks he knows enough t’start givin’ speeches. Like you hadn’t heard ‘em all a million times.”

In truth, Kaden had heard that all before. Not a million times, but enough to understand where he was going with it. Power corrupted, that was a well known fact. All people were corruptible, that was another fairly provable fact. Kaden would still try. Some day he may actually find himself in exactly the saiyan’s position, and all he could do was hope that, that day, he would be able to take responsibility for whatever he had done. In the mean time, he would simply have to find a way, any way, to do what needed to be done, the way it needed to be done.

“I won’t be like you,” was all he said. “I won’t.”

As his opponent had done earlier, Kaden drew in a deep breath and braced his body. Slowly, energy began trickling through his limbs, spreading from his fingers to his toes. His entire body began to tingle with a sensation of power that he had felt only a few times before. It felt as though electricity were dancing its way through his veins as he allowed more and more energy to pour from his body.

Gradually, the jagged, circular outline of the scar on Kaden’s chest began to shine through his shirt, lighting his whole chest in a brilliant cerulean glow. Wisps of energy rose from his body, like steam, drifting almost playfully through the air. At his feet, thin bursts of flame-like energy blinked in-and-out of existence as the spiraled about the courier. There was no earth-shaking demonstration of raw power, for Kaden simply did not possess that kind of strength. He did, however, have the power to do what he needed to do. Right then and right there.

Kaden knew what would be coming next. The saiyan seemed to know it, too. He took in a deep breath and steadied himself as best he could. He met Kaden’s firm gaze with one of his own. The human didn’t blink or look away, which was almost commendable. With that thought in his mind, the saiyan found himself almost laughing again. It had been a while since a simple human boy had amused him to that degree.

“What’s your name?” the saiyan asked with a smile on his face.

“Kaden.”

“Kaden…” the saiyan seemed to consider it. “I like it. Short and simple, but enough to remember. And I will.”

The courier took no solace in that. He took no solace in anything he was about to do. If the saiyan was right, he would simply be stepping into his shoes. That was not what he wanted. That was not what the world needed. There was no needed for someone just like him, someone who would flaunt the rules and toy with lives as though they were less than his own. Kai, Damon, Gamer… he would prove them all wrong. He would prove to everyone that he would be something different… something more than that saiyan ever could have been.

Energy pooled in Kaden’s hands, a swirling mass of ki summoned forth from his own body. The saiyan never looked at it. He never let his eyes move from the humans. He had looked death in the eye before, and he would do it again. He would go out the way he always did. The way a saiyan should. That didn’t matter to Kaden. The pride, the steeled resolve, the final defiance, all of it was irrelevant. Either the saiyan would regain his strength and survive the attack, or he wouldn’t. That was all that the human saw before him. And, whatever the outcome, there was really only one thing he could think to say.

“Goodbye, Raditzu.”

[Ander]

Sometimes, the hand of fate favored you, blessed you, and other times, the hand smote you, cursed you with its interference. It was hard to determine the fickle intent when you didn’t know the design, or exactly whose fingers pulled at the strings. Nevertheless, such pointless philosophic waxing did not hold the power to stop the celestial portals that tore the three unwitting and unwilling participants apart without warning, flinging them with ruthless abandon into destinies – or was it machinations – unknown.

For the second time in practically minutes, Ander lifted himself off the ground, slowly and cautiously. His blue eyes sharply roved around new surroundings, wondering how he managed to instantaneously go from a carnival setting to a large parking garage. Empty cars sat quietly within their painted white confines, several vacant lots spreading the vehicles out amongst the area. The thief waited hesitantly for any kind of movement or tells as to the kind of company he might be keeping. The fact that Sage once again escaped his sight did not go unnoticed. For that matter, he didn’t see that bonehead – Juno he thought it was – either, the one whom interrupted the pair before Ander could successfully press the girl on her little slip of what he suspected as a drug addiction. He wondered if she shared his fate, and had been transported to a similar place, but then he simply filed that concern on the backburner of his mind. Wherever she was, he placed full confidence in her ability to take care of herself, despite the uncharacteristic behavior she demonstrated minutes ago. Somehow, he got the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t Sage he had to worry about right now. The dune dweller didn’t really like the situation, and he guessed as much that he probably wasn’t supposed to. The burning question of the moment popped into his head: how did this relate to a carnival?

Letting another uneventful instant go by, Ander then forced his rigid body to move, despite his growing apprehension, his footsteps echoing loudly in the loneliness. The enormity of the parking garage surprised him, as he couldn’t recall ever standing in an enclosure within four concrete walls this big. Usually, a low ceiling threatened to scrape the roofs of larger cars, yet it stretched high above, enough to accommodate a sizeable semi-truck and then some. Despite the expansive floor plan, Ander easily located the ramp allowing travel to other levels. He guessed by the lack of open air that the lot nestled somewhere underground. The thief frowned, however, when he approached and started to ascend the slope: a giant barrier blockaded the area where the entrance or exit should have been. He advanced towards it, already sensing an inspection as a waste of time. Casually, he reached out to touch the wall, and abruptly jerked his hand back with a cry of pain as a white-hot lance of electricity stung his tender skin.

Since when can stone conduct electricity? the nomad wondered, shaking his sore hand.

Ander then jogged back down from the ramp towards a corner, hoping against all likelihood for an elevator or set of stairs. Those ventures also met with equally dismal failure, as every possible exit remained guarded by electrified walls.

Guess I should have expected as much. But what’s the point… why am I in here? he mused. Then, his increasingly dampening demeanor brightened as he recalled the exquisitely attractive woman he’d run into on his first attempt to flee the carnival: Mixie. She told him whenever he needed assistance to just call her name and she’d be there. He couldn’t really figure how she would get to him… much less even hear him in this thinly disguised prison cell. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try. After all, what did he have to lose? The parking garage may have simply been designed to keep him in, rather than other people out.

With impeccable cosmic timing to Ander’s full comprehension of his unintentionally sickening thought, the bright fluorescent lighting above went out.

His breath caught in his throat as his body reflexively twitched at the sudden darkness. Immediately, a hand flew to his capsule pouch, and his thumb traced along the Anati symbol for ‘baton’ and in seconds a pair of tonfas rested comfortably along his forearms. For good measure, he molded the blunt instruments into blades. The thief closed his eyes, knowing the pitch-blackness rendered them almost useless, instead focusing his attention to his sense of sound whilst trying to drown out the noise of his own nervous heartbeat.

Unexpectedly, Ander suppressed a shiver that threatened to crawl up his spine, and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck bristled on end. He felt as though someone… or something… was watching him in the darkness, boring into his very soul with piercing, unforgiving eyes. The dune dweller was a mouse in a snake’s lair, prey for some serpent to sink its venomous fangs into. His dark brows knitted and he gritted his teeth, ready for whatever would spring out at him.

Surprisingly, however, he heard the distinct sound of an electric lever slamming down, and a section of lights turned back on. Ander’s eyes snapped back open, and his head swayed to and fro to locate the source of the noise. He could see a rectangular section of brightness on each of the far ends. Then, one by one, strips of light turned loudly back on, coming at him from both sides like burning fuses. What kind of game was this?

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to let sleeping dogs lie?” a gravelly, rough voice spoke quietly, threateningly.

Ander whirled, holding back shock as he saw a person where there hadn’t been one before. The figure – decidedly male – sat atop the cab of a candy apple red 2007 Chevy Kodiak pickup truck about fifteen feet away. One leg lazily hung downward, while the other leg curled up into a knee with a straightened arm resting upon it. The stranger’s head tilted down, his face concealed by an array of black, spiky hair drooping against any discernable feature. Knowing he stood against a flesh-and-blood mortal, and not some terrible monster, Ander felt a little more assured of himself, though his grip on the tonfas visibly tightened.

“I might have heard it once or twice,” Ander replied casually, remaining rooted to the spot.

“Then why did you summon me? My time is over,” the stranger growled softly.

Ander had no idea what he meant, but the thief continued the conversation as if he did. “Oh, you know, I had nothing better to do. Thought I’d have a little fun.”

Beneath the veil of black spikes, a surly frown converted into a dangerous smile.

“Fun, is it?” the stranger said.

“To tell you the truth, though, I don’t know even know who you are,” Ander shrugged, decidedly dropping the brief ruse.

Faster than Ander’s sight could follow, the stranger leapt up from the truck and dropped with a thunderous smash onto the pavement in front of the enormous vehicle, the upper half of his body hunched over, revealing nothing more than the thief saw a second ago. Cracks formed beneath the man’s steel-framed leather boots. Then the mysterious figure slowly rose to his full height, his dark face coming into view. An eerily long shadow stretched out from the stranger, one in which the thief found himself standing. Ander stared at a mountain of muscle, a man garbed in full battle gear. Metal plates guarded his ankles, shins, and kneecaps, strapped tightly around loose-fitting dark navy blue pants. A leather belt hung slackly about the man’s waist, sagging askew to one side. Fingerless leather gauntlets with iron-studded knuckles covered his hands and forearms, his bulging biceps bare save for strips of white cloth around his right arm. A black breastplate coated his massive torso, a brilliant green gem of refine ore embedded in the center. Beneath his tufts of spike hair, a bloodstained bandana wrapped tightly around his forehead, the frayed ends trailing down his back. His hardened face was all angles and planes, a crisscrossed scar puckered on his left cheek. But most memorable of all was the unrelenting stare of his coal-black eyes as they ripped through Ander like an avalanche against tissue paper.

“My name… is Bardock.”

Something felt entirely off about this whole situation. The wrongness of it crawled maddeningly beneath Ander’s skin, as if they found themselves within some horrible perversion of natural law.

“Well, Bardock, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn’t the one who ‘summoned’ you,” Ander smiled.

As if the thief had already been surprised enough, he felt further unsettled when Bardock slowly closed his eyes and cocked his chin to the side. The air filled with the audible noise of the armored warrior sniffing deeply.

“I smell…” Bardock began slowly. Then his eyes snapped back open, staring disturbingly at the thief. “…human.”

Ander arched a brow amusedly. “And what are you supposed to be?”

On cue, a long, furry brown tail flickered out from behind Bardock and into view. The thief’s vision trailed along the monkey-like appendage, and then returned to the unnerving gaze of his new “friend.”

“You’re a saiyan,” Ander stated, his tone dropping to a serious level.

“That’s right,” Bardock smirked. “And I kill your kind for fun. You did say you brought me here for fun, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t bring you here at all,” the dune dweller insisted firmly, growing more and more uncomfortable with the situation with every passing second.

Bardock’s face went dark. “Listen, human, I sure as hell don’t appreciate being fucked with, so I wouldn’t try it if I was you. Nothing good happens when people piss me off. I was in the deepest part of Hell, so somebody had to bring me here. And you’re the reason why. I. Can. Feel it.”

“Hell?” Ander repeated, confused. “You mean… you’re dead? Are you… some kind of demon?”

“I was dead, and I ain’t a demon. I sent myself there for a reason, and nobody is gonna drag me back here now,” the bronze bruiser snarled.

“You… you killed yourself…?”

The brawler’s smirk returned. “And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

Bardock’s face then went blank, and he raised a hand, inspecting it, as if comprehending the feeling of flesh and blood for the first time. He wondered if it was really real, if this was really happening. A flood of suppressed memories returned to his weary mind, flashes of a former life he left behind a long time ago. He remembered as the bomb went off, and he remembered the heat of the blast searing his olive-toned skin before everything went blank, and he felt nothing, sweet nothing. He had not been disappointed by his choice; death was the ultimate rush, the mystery every saiya-jin longed to experience. They dealt death, and secretly sought their own. And Bardock… Bardock got to do it several times over, on both sides of the executioner’s axe. With his self-banishment to Hell, an indescribable peace fell upon him, silencing his pain and erasing the mental frailties of mortality. But with Bardock’s return to the realm of the living, a familiar anxiety started to fill back in his blissful emptiness, and he longed to return to the darkest depths of the underworld again, where it could not follow him. He’d made his decision, and it was wrong for anyone to take that from him, his rightful ability of self-ownership. Soon, he could forget again, and fight to his heart’s content for all eternity in the afterlife… once he destroyed the ties binding him here.

“Hey, human,” Bardock said. “You think you got what it takes to send me back there?”

“I don’t kill people,” Ander replied flatly.

The bronze bruiser turned to face the thief. “If you don’t kill me, then I’m going to kill you. And then I’ll bring this whole fuckin’ building down around me for whoever did this.”

“You don’t have the power,” the dune dweller countered.

Bardock smiled again, an unnerving tilt of his lips, and he slowly shook his head. He flexed his fingers sharply, and his entire hand caught fire with the power of pyrokinesis. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.” Bardock’s eyes stared unseeingly as he activated his third-level Ki Sense, delving into the very depths of Ander’s potential energy. Once satisfied, the saiyan dispelled his sight beyond sight, the physical world returning to his vision, and he chuckled wickedly. “Looks like you’re way out of your league, kid.”

Ander flashed a toothy grin and slipped into his fighting stance, knowing he had no other alternative. He was locked in with a potential psychopath that was quite literally from Hell. “Then get past me if you think you can.”

Bardock returned the facial expression, feeling an old, familiar tremor of excitement spark in veins. “Y’know, they say never to raise more demons than you can put down…”

In the blink of an eye, the saiyan vanished, and Ander’s face blanched, the Instant Transmission completely undetectable. Then his blue eyes widened as he felt the hot breath of the bronze bruiser on his neck.

“…and I’m a demon you ain’t gonna be able to put down.”

The thief’s back arched painfully as he felt a meaty fist slam into it, subsequently sending him flying into the truck. The glass of the passenger side window shattered into hundreds of pieces as his face crashed into it, and his body bounced off with comical physics, causing the vehicle to rock back and forth on its substantial suspension. Ander coughed and sucked greedily at air; that punch felt a hundred times worse than what he suffered at the hands of Belle, or anybody else he could remember for that matter.

Bardock audibly cracked his neck, loosening his cold, stiff joints. He still hadn’t completely gotten the feel of his old body just quite yet.

Ander lifted himself off the ground, already struggling with the effort it required to do so. He noticed that for some reason, even though their positioning had changed, the shadow that connected them remained in place. The thief ignored it, setting his face as he leapt high into the air, flipping in mid-flight so that his leather boots touched the grungy ceiling. He coiled his legs, like springs ready to snap, and used the force to launch himself like a missile at the former roughneck. Bardock slighted to one side, twisting his body to easily avoid the blow, but a faint metallic ring alerted him to the contrary of successful dodge as the razor’s edge of Ander’s tonfa nicked the saiyan’s breastplate. Ander stuck a palm out as the filthy ground loomed up beneath him, pushing off and back-flipping away once more to a safe distance. He resolved to keep building momentum, enabling him to strike faster and faster, ideally allowing him to score a debilitating hit. The problem rooted deep within that strategy, however, lied in its requirement of perfect execution for effectiveness, and required him to think with lightning reflexes. One slip, one minor miscalculation, and Ander would fall flat on his face, or meet the wrong end of a nasty physical blow. The thief mentally reached out to his sleeve slide triggers, only to frustratingly remember that he had emptied the deadly projectiles against Belle and never bothered refilling them. Ander instead elected for another pass at the saiyan as his feet planted and straddled the corner of a pillar. He pushed off, landing on another, and another, circling the fighter with a random pattern of movements.

Bardock merely waited patiently – a virtue that, ironically, typically fell almost completely beyond his capabilities – for an opening to present itself. It had been so long since he had a real flesh-and-blood opponent after all, and he wanted to enjoy himself before dispatching the human. The thief came at him from above, crouching for a split second on the ceiling until he pounced, dropping like a bomb. Bardock thrust an arm up, letting loose a hastily gathered bolt of energy. Ander barely let out a gasp of surprise before the ki engulfed him, blasting him back upwards onto the ceiling with a resounding crack. Once the blast dissipated, nothing remained to hold him up, and the saiyan casually sidestepped when the thief came tumbling downward in a smoking heap.

“You gotta do better than that,” Bardock sneered.

Ander uttered a choked growl, and once again drew on his Super Leaping capabilities to put distance between the two, readying another assault with determined resilience. He didn’t even start before the saiyan leveled an arm at him, index finger pointed and thumb jutting straight out with the others curled in, forming the unmistakable shape of a gun.

“Your turn is over now,” the bronze bruiser stated, aiming his Gunslinger attack. Then he quietly uttered a single word: “Pistol.”

Ander dropped to the ground without a millisecond to spare as a bullet of pure ki shot out of the tip of Bardock’s thick finger, trajectory lined up perfectly between the thief’s eyes. Instead, the ki bullet sailed right on past and burned a neat, cylindrical hole in the rock-solid wall. Ander looked over his shoulder, seeing in the wall what could very well have been his skull, and his stomach lurched.

You’ve gotta be kidding me…

“Eyes on your opponent!” Bardock commanded.

The thief obediently turned back, not having much time to do anything else before he rolled sharply out of the way, another smoking puncture where he had just lain. Ander scrambled to his feet, stopping and jerking back suddenly as a ki bullet crossed paths with where he almost stepped. He twisted and turned and twirled, almost as if performing some stupid dance, trying to avoid those deadly little slugs. Finally, he gained enough leverage to turn his ‘stay alive bebop’ into a sequence of acrobatic flips, and he pounded head-over-heels along the length of the garage as an acute line of destruction followed him intently, peppering the walls with bursts of smoke. He couldn’t really see as the world spun around him in a gyroscopic blur, so much as he hoped wherever he landed would be free of cars or any other obstruction. Unfortunately, as was prone to happen, Ander made a mistake. He over-rotated, and his palms slid out from underneath him, causing the tonfas to go flying in the process. The dune dweller toppled, his body scraping along the concrete. Luckily, the line of ki bullets passed right over his fallen form. As he had done so many times already, Ander picked himself up, sporting a few new wounds from his hapless fall.

Bardock folded his meaty arms over his barrel chest. “You’re not even a real fighter, are you?”

“I am,” Ander insisted, his voice edged in denial.

“You act like one, but you don’t look like one,” Bardock continued. “You’re too weak to be a fighter.”

“I am a fighter, and I am not weak!”

“Then show me!”

The saiya-jin warrior lifted his hand, fingers splayed out as he prepared to launch another offensive blast of the more generic variety. Ander instantly reached for the stainless steel pins tucked safely away in his third pouch, and his arm swept forward in a magnificent arc as he guided them. Bardock hardly even flinched as the needles embedded in the exposed skin, but grew more concerned with the fact that the energy flow along his channels of power disrupted, preemptively causing his ki blast to flicker and die.

“What the hell…?” the saiyan uttered.

But Ander was already moving, a metal bo staff materializing in his hands as he charged. With a vengeful cry, the thief cracked the butt along Bardock’s temple. He didn’t stop there as he spun around and struck the exact same spot with the opposite end of the polearm. When he swung a third time, the saiyan caught the bo staff with his unaffected arm, clamping his fingers down on the katchin weapon. Ander tried to yank it free, and of course found his strength completely outmatched. Instead, he channeled a conduction down the length of it, raising the temperature and causing the metal to glow red hot.

“Nice trick,” Bardock grinned, “but I can do it too.”

He bellowed out a yell, and the saiyan’s hands caught fire, not the mere imitation Ander produced, but the genuine article, causing the bo staff to heat up even faster. The thief yelped and released, no longer under the protection of his selective conducting. He took a few careful steps backwards, watching as Bardock took the bo staff and snapped it clean in two over his knee, tossing away the broken pieces. In the interim, Ander was already reaching back into his bag of tricks. Bar didn’t even bother to take note as he plucked the acupuncture needles out of his arm, one by one, the hooked barbs creating further tears in his flesh as he did so. As the saiyan looked back up to stare down his opponent once again, Ander flung a handful of Flashbombs in his face, and they went off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. The roughneck growled as the metal shrapnel bit into his unprotected skin, a blinding white light filling his eyes. He stumbled over to a nearby pillar, clutching against it for support.

“What is this?” Bardock snarled. “I thought you were gonna show me you’re a fighter!”

“I am showing you,” Ander maintained, his voice echoing through the parking garage from a newly found hiding spot. “You’re strong, but you’re not too smart.”

“This ain’t fighting, this is cheap tricks!” the saiyan rumbled. “Fight me like a real man, like a real warrior. Where’s your honor, coward?”

His challenge was met with mocking laughter, somewhat surprising given their current track record.

“This isn’t a game… there are no rules… play to win…” Ander answered.

“No. I wanna see what you really are, and I will, one way or the other,” Bardock said, clenching a hand into a fist. His fists ached with the need, the need to fight, and he could only keep that urge at bay for so long. He communicated with those fists, and silencing them was like screaming without a voice. It had been so long… so long…

Eventually, the white haze cleared, and Bardock glanced around, noting the absence of his unscrupulous opponent. He didn’t have much of a chance to really look, because the pillar next to him exploded in a chalky mess of stone and cement courtesy of a surreptitiously placed Sticky Bomb. The saiya-jin jarringly stumbled away from it, shielding himself from the blast. Ander watched from his unseen perch with rabid anticipation, waiting for the brawny brawler to step in just the right spot. Bardock wandered a little too close to the wrong car, and it too violently erupted in a plume of fire and twisted metal. One by one, each strategically positioned Sticky Bomb went off, surrounding the saiyan in an inescapable ring of death and destruction, consuming him in a bright and blazing inferno. Ander placed a hand above his brow, shielding his eyes from the flare as his opponent disappeared from sight. His stomach knotted into bunches as he prayed it to be enough, and that the parking garage wouldn’t come crumbling down around his head and bury him. Eventually, the eruption left only smoke behind, and that too cleared away. Ander’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the telltale silhouette distinctively standing out against the smoke.

No… NO… the thief’s mind raced. HOW… how do you survive that? What does it take to bring this guy down?!

At last, nothing remained of Ander’s failed pyrotechnics, leaving only Bardock standing with his arms crossed protectively over his torso and tilted head, his form smoking slightly. Slowly, the saiyan lowered his still-crossed arms, revealing a murderous intent on his face as his coal black eyes stared directly at Ander’s hiding place in a collection of ceiling pipes by a service exit. The thief’s face grew taut with realization.

How did he…?

Without a word, Bar extended an arm, gripping the wrist with his free hand.

Aw no!

“SHOTGUN!” the saiyan bellowed.

His arm rocked backwards as a huge coalescence of ki fired forth from his knuckles.

“Shhhit,” Ander cursed. He wriggled free from the pipes and leapt away just as the shell of energy impacted, decimating the area and sending bursts of mineral-laden water spraying everywhere. The force of the resulting shockwave propelled Ander even further beyond his intended landing point.

Bardock watched, almost lazily, as if the thief moved in slow motion. He projected the human’s flight path, as if tracking a hunting rifle in preparation of shooting a prized bird, then tossed a seemingly harmless ball of ki farther out into the path. He poised his hand expectantly, pressing the pads of his thumb and middle finger together. Ander saw ahead of him just in time to get a glimpse of the sphere, which oddly hovered in the air, almost as if it waited for him. The reverberating crack of fingers snapping ripped through the air, and it was the last thing the thief heard before the Detonator blew up in his face in a moment rife with irony. Though Bardock deliberately held back the true potential strength of the attack, Ander still had no chance of defense against it. The explosion sent him sailing wildly into a wall. His head smacked painfully, and mercy granted him unconsciousness to anything after that as he slumped downward, body limp and unmoving.

Bardock sucked in a deep breath, doing his best to reign in the fit of aggression that threatened to overcome him. He didn’t need to exert any effort at all, and suffered little to no pain under the kid’s pitiful attempts at attack. In fact, the only effort he required was the effort not to accidentally splinter the human in two. The saiyan might as well have been fighting a piece of cardboard that was supposed to be his last ride for the rest of his dead life. Still, something felt… off… like he wasn’t entirely himself. He had trouble getting into the rhythm of the battle, somewhat uncomfortable in his own skin. It was almost like he wasn’t supposed to be here. Then, searing agony cleaved through his brain as the memories of his former life returned, a jumbled incoherent mess of fragmented images and sounds. It was like seeing a thousand pictures all at once, and hearing a thousand different people all talking to you at the same time. Memories, so many memories… voices… and faces… who were these people?

He growled and violently shook his head, forcing them away, unable and unwilling to be subjected to the haunting shades of days past. He wouldn’t be dragged back here to the world of the living. Not by them. Not by anyone. He belonged to no one but himself.

The saiyan steeled himself, reaching for the bindings of his armor. He deliberately unclipped the fastenings of his black breastplate – revealing a sleeveless, weighted black shirt beneath – and flung the armor away where it landed on top of a car, crushing the roof. Then he reached down and removed the latches on his shin guards, tossing them aside as well. After all, he didn’t need any armor in this fight; it was an unnecessary buffer in strength and defense that only served to detract from his overall enjoyment at this point. At last, Bardock strode purposefully over to his fallen excuse for an opponent. He crouched down, inspecting the young man. He was just begging to be killed, napping in the middle of a battle like this. Bardock raised his hand and slapped the back of it forcefully against Ander’s cheek. The motion proved successful as the blue-eyed bandit groaned, his mind and body forcefully dredged up from the gentle throes of unconsciousness.

“Get up. I ain’t done with you yet,” Bardock ordered with a sneer of his lips. He stood up, turning his back to the thief and taking a few steps away. “Or are you just going to sit there and keep on proving how weak you really are?”

Ander tried to pull himself up, as he had done so doggedly before, but failed, and he fell forward onto his palms, balancing shakily between hands and knees.

“Pathetic,” Bardock said, as if he could see everything behind him. “I’ve fought some pitiful opponents in my day, but I don’t think I’ve met anyone as worthless as you who dared to call themselves a true fighter. Telling people you’re a fighter doesn’t make you one. Hell, it’s a mockery for you to even say the goddamn word.”

Ander ground his teeth together, every aching muscle in his body going taut. His trademark cool demeanor was quickly vanishing under the stinging verbal whiplashes.

“You think you’re strong? Think you’re tough? You don’t know the first fuckin’ thing about it with your stupid little stunts, thinking they’ll get you anywhere in the presence of a true warrior. You’re going to die here, kid, and you can’t even stop me.”

The thief’s fingers curled, scraping painfully at the concrete as he balled up his hands into white-knuckled fists. He started to shake with barely contained fury, his breath coming out in ragged, suppressed growls. How many times had he heard these words? How many times would he be forced to listen to them as they unfailingly reopened old wounds and poured in salt? That arrogance, that boastfulness, it was just like so many others. Was everyone like this? Was he going to have to fight everyone? Ander knew he shouldn’t care; he didn’t even know Bardock, and Bardock certainly didn’t know him. Yet still, the seasoned veteran denied him the only thing that mattered in his never-ending quest for strength, and that was for somebody strong to acknowledge him as something more than just a failure. It almost didn’t even matter who it was, so long as somebody did it. He craved respect, and lost it at every turn, such was his dismal fate.

“Those tricks aren’t going to save you when I spill your blood. You’re just. Too. Weak.”

“Don’t turn your back on me,” Ander spoke, almost choking on the words. “Don’t turn your back on me like I’m not a threat to you.”

“Because you aren’t.”

“I’m not gonna die here. Not here, not now, not YOU!”

But Bardock just laughed, and the thief lifted his leaden head, watching as the saiyan just started to walk away. Not only that, but his armor was gone, an intentional and cruel gesture that kept piling on the insults.

And then Ander snapped. A cry tore from his throat as he launched himself recklessly at his enemy, foolishly abandoning any form of strategy for the pure, unadulterated release of loathing and resentment. He reared back his arm, summoning every last fiber of strength within his being. Bardock turned around, a smirk frozen on his face, just as Ander’s fist rocketed towards him. The saiyan took the blow square on the chin, not even bothering to dodge or defend. Ander screamed as he let loose a furious barrage of punches, throwing all of his weight behind each and every one of them.

“Yeah, that’s more like it! That’s right!” Bardock encouraged between hits. “Show me your anger, your sorrow, your hate! Show me everything! Keep it coming, show me your power!”

And the thief readily obliged, feeling everything he had kept inside for so long break free at last. He swung a mighty right hook. Anger. He followed that with a left uppercut. Sorrow. That preceded a hammer strike with both fists interlocked. Hate. Every blow, every attack met with the feeling of hitting a brick wall, but Ander kept going anyway. Somehow, though, Bardock didn’t mind becoming a walking, talking punching bag. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, a toothy grin impervious to any strike laid upon him. The saiyan’s black eyes glittered with the rush of adrenaline, the embers of a long-forgotten passion stoked once again to full blazing glory in the thrill of combat. This was how he communicated; this was how he spoke, how he listened, how he learned.

Ander released one final shout as he wildly launched a right haymaker, and although it landed perfectly, he stumbled to his left, barely able to stand, his chest heaving hungrily for air. His eyelids fluttered heavily, as now his only fight was that to stay conscious and upright. He glared woozily at Bardock, seeing absolutely nothing for all of his tiring exertions. Not a bruise, not a single mark on him.

“Wh… what… what are you?” Ander breathed raggedly.

“Don’t tell me that’s it. Don’t tell me that’s all you have,” Bardock responded, audibly disappointed. His flow of adrenaline ebbed, having failed to reach its expected and much anticipated pinnacle. “Is that your power?”

“No way… I’m just… getting started…” Ander lied, and badly.

“That’s not real power,” Bardock said. He stepped over to a pillar, and plunged his fist straight on through, causing a section of it to crumble and collapse. Then, as if needing to further demonstrate his point, he turned to the vehicle parked next to it, a shiny 2007 Shelby Mustang GT500 colored performance black with silver stripes. Bardock rammed his hand into the hood, clutching onto the sadly stock 4.6-liter V8 engine, lifted it up, and flung it across the parking garage and into where the elevator doors were supposed to be, where the fine piece of Ford engineering was completely and utterly owned. “Even that is not real power. I could destroy planets if I wanted to. Hell, I did it for a living for more than half my life. Do you really think that a nobody like you can measure up to that?”

Ander merely stared blankly, knowing full well that he couldn’t even come close to that kind of strength. He was just a dumb kid in way over his head that shouldn’t have even bothered trying to prove himself, and instead should have been more concerned with preserving his own life. Even still, even with his situation dire and ten different kinds of hopeless, all he could think about was somehow trying to salvage the irreparable pieces of his pride.

“Is that… why you think you’re so great?” Ander leered, spouting anything that could have sounded like a well-conceived defense, but only ended up digging his hole a little deeper as he showed just how frail he really was. “What makes you think I need to measure up to you?”

Bardock stared him down, those onyx eyes peeling away his futilely constructed layers. “I don’t think. I know. And you’ll never be what I am.”

The thief spat a frothy mixture of blood and saliva, wiping the stray strands that caught on his chin with the back of his hand. “Watch me. I’ll make you eat those words, and anybody else who doesn’t think I can.”

“Then you have to earn it.”

With Bardock’s words came his fist, out of nowhere, crashing mercilessly into the thief’s soft, exposed belly. Ander expelled a strangled cry, doubling over in complete agony.

“Every step of the way, just like I did.”

As the nomad fell, Bardock’s knee drew up to greet him, the hard cap slamming into his forehead and sending him reeling backwards with more than a nasty migraine. Ander blacked out for a moment, but the reprieve of ending up completely knocked out wouldn’t be granted a second time. Instead, he rolled over and tried to crawl away, dragging his battered body on his elbows, needing to think of some kind of new strategy. But what could he do? He may have been smarter, but what good did a higher intellect serve him? He’d used his best techniques and came up more than a little short; the saiyan exceeded him in strength, speed, ki, and could survive a bomb blast. What else was there to try?

Bardock shook his head. All that bravado and nothing to show for it. He calmly stepped over and grabbed the back of Ander’s jacket, flinging him once more into the Kodiak truck the saiyan first sat on at the beginning of their little altercation. Ander hit hard, and slumped helplessly over, not knowing how much more abuse his mortal body could tolerate. The bronze bruiser strolled over to the thief, as if Bar did nothing more than take a scenic tour along a park. He clutched a handful of Ander’s shoulder-length black hair, ripping his torso painfully upwards like plucking a rooted vegetable from the ground. Ander couldn’t bite back the cry of hurt, and failed to summon the strength to fight back. Bardock then knelt down and gripped the desert youth’s jaw and forcefully turned his head, shoving it against the side of the pickup. The bandit opened his eyes, staring directly into an oversized side-view mirror designed for seeing around a lengthy bed and whatever else hitched behind. He saw himself in the reflection, broken and bruised, and he saw Bardock’s face near his, close enough that the two could be compared.

For all that separated them, one could strangely draw many parallels. They had the same dark features, and that same overbearing swagger, right down to the infuriatingly smug smirk. The difference was, Bardock’s was real – he had every reason behind the authenticity – and Ander’s was just a poor attempt at posturing, a mere parody, a caricature of those he so desperately despised. They also possessed doggedness, raw determination to succeed no matter the odds. In some twisted world, they almost could have been the same man. But there was one key thing that separated them, and it wasn’t the frighteningly large disparity in their level of power…

“If you want to be strong, you have to earn it,” Bardock repeated.

Without warning, he smashed Ander’s face into the mirror, shattering their reflections and scattering broken glass everywhere.

“Every battle…”

The saiyan picked up a large fragment in his hand.

“Every scratch…”

And then he took the sharpened point, and dug it into Ander’s right cheek, prompting a howl of pure agony from the thief as Bardock drew the shard of mirror in a bright crimson line of blood across his face.

“Every scar.”

Once he completed his sadistic carving, he held up the thief’s head, inspecting his handiwork. The oozing gash looked absolutely identical to the faded mark on the saiyan’s left cheek, a perfect imitation. Bardock tossed aside the bloodstained piece, letting it clatter next to his opponent’s leg, a blank expression on his face as he waited for Ander to stop screaming. The thief screamed, and screamed, until his vocal chords gave out, and there was nothing left. Instead, he wheezed, trying to hold back the fire that burned along his mangled face. Ander opened his deadened eyes, and locked his line of sight with Bardock’s, almost accusingly if it weren’t for the numbness that encroached within and reflected in his blue depths. Their staring contest didn’t last long when another pulse of memories jarred persistently in the saiya-jin’s mind.

He clenched his angled jaw and grasped uselessly at his head, standing up and stumbling backwards. He felt like he would go mad, consumed by the insanity of his own sordid past that so constantly plagued him. Same old, same old. He was so tired, so tired of everything.

“No…” Bardock whispered threateningly. “I won’t play this game again.”

Ander had no idea what the roughneck babbled on about, but then again, the former athlete was almost completely out of it by this point. A deep rumble formed in the saiyan’s chest, bubbling up his throat and seeping past his lips. Ander watched dumbly as Bardock let loose a furious roar, growing deeper and longer in pitch. Fierce winds emanated from the true warrior’s body, whistling loudly amongst the otherwise enclosed parking garage. His ebony locks floated upwards as the self-generated breeze threaded through them, and suddenly the strands were no longer black, but a glorious glowing blond. Charcoal eyes turned turquoise, just as haunting as before, if not more so. Bright light completely dwarfed the luminescence of the ceiling fixtures. Ander vaguely recalled this transformation somewhere from the murky fog of his addled brain. Belle had undergone this change, although at the time, the thief hadn’t placed his finger on just quite what it was.

S-saiyan… super…? Super… Saiyan… Super Saiyan, he managed to put together. The eventual realization that this meant Belle was, at least in part, saiyan, didn’t really matter at this given juncture, or the further comprehension that Sage’s bloodline made her capable of this too.

The very foundations of the building trembled before Bardock’s awesome power, threatening to buckle in its dreadful wake. The saiyan’s roar never ceased, as if it was an eternal cry to the anger and anguish that he had bottled up inside. Temptation to simply destroy everything ran rampant up and down his veins, seeking to lure him into its blissful promise of making it all go away. This was rage only a son of Vegeta-sei was capable of, and he brought it all to bear, not caring who got caught in the crossfire. And he didn’t stop there. Once his Super Saiyan transformation completed, he took it a step further to the next level. Blue tendrils of electricity crackled and snaked dangerously around his sinewy frame, and his blond spikes split and thinned. Each vehicle gradually but surely lifted from their respective spaces, flying against the walls in the massive torrent of energy and compacting against the sheer force of it. Even the Kodiak pickup supporting the thief fell victim to Bardock’s might. Somehow, however, Ander was spared as he lay quietly on his side, as if by some higher, supernatural intervention he rested within the eye of the horrible storm. Suddenly, a brilliant yellow flare engulfed the entire room, and above the din, Ander heard the distinct popping of fragile glass as lastly the fluorescent bulbs suffered the same fate as the cars.

For a moment, blindness obscured the vision of anything. And then all the light in the garage went out. Only Bardock remained in contrast against the blackness, shining in the dark like a golden torch, a harbinger of death. He stood in silence, an ascended Super Saiyan. At long last, the memories, the images, the voices, all quieted and faded, their incessant presence finally quelled in the fit of pure emotion. Minutes passed uneventfully… until the sound of a footstep broke the illusion of peace.

Ander simply waited, blood pooling beneath his head from the wound on his cheek. Consciousness didn’t come easily; he didn’t quite comprehend what was going on anymore, but somehow he knew that the saiyan was coming over, coming to hurt him again, and he sprawled helplessly on the ground, unable to defend himself anymore. He couldn’t stop the beating, and he knew it, so helplessly... he knew it. The thief watched through hazy vision as Bardock’s boots grew closer and closer, until they stopped right in front of him. That same shadow loomed over the thief, so much more devouring than before. Ander grunted weakly as Bardock slammed his foot onto his head, cruelly grinding in the toe as if making a hole in the dirt.

“This is where you’ll always end up,” the Super Saiyan spoke, his voice eerily calm. “The strong live, the weak die. That’s how it goes.”

He reached down and closed his hand over Ander’s throat, lifting him up with no more effort than if he were to have plucked a feather. He raised his arm, so that the thief dangled above the ground, a hangman in a noose. Ander didn’t resist. Bardock observed him appraisingly, making sure the young man faced completely forward. Even in the saiyan’s moment of triumph, he felt a strange… disconnection, like his perception of reality was faulty, like he wasn’t even really in this body at all. He questioned the truth of his existence, or wondered if his mind simply played another trick on him.

“You said I was a demon. Then tell me. If I really am a demon… why am I yours?”
The concept almost made the saiyan laugh with the twisted irony of it. All of his life, he had so many demons chasing him. He never thought he’d be somebody else’s.

Ander choked against the hold, mustering up a response. “Don’t… flatter… yourself… I don’t know you… and I don’t care about you.” He tried to swallow, and failed. “You said… your time… was over… so there’s one thing… that separates you and me. You’re the past… and I’m the future! You’re just a memory!”

Bardock took a moment to fully absorb these words, and then shook his head. He thought, even if ever so briefly, that this human could provide him release from this world, and yet, that did not turn out to be so. He ignited his free hand with pure pyrokinesis in his favorite, ultimate attack… Explosive Fists. The saiya-jin poised his hand into a claw, drawing it back, ready to strike and end everything.

“No. The future is over, for both of us.”

His turquoise pupils contracted in anticipation, and his arm jerked in the slightest movement.

And then he stopped, a labored breath croaking from his throat. Bardock slowly glanced down in disbelief, seeing Ander holding the shard of mirror he’d used against him, the point embedded in the left side of his chest… straight through his heart. The thief glared at his opponent, face contorted in angry defiance, and his voice came out in a low growl.

“Back to the pit…”

Ander sharply and viciously twisted the fragment, eliciting a pained grunt from the saiyan.

“…where you belong.”

Bardock emitted strangled gasps, and he slowly lowered the boy. Once he released his death-grip on Ander’s throat, the thief buckled under his own weight, unable to support himself as he dropped like a stone to the ground. The bronze bruiser staggered backwards a few steps, and against better judgment, pulled the mirror from his chest, causing a wellspring of blood to gush freely forth. It was too late anyways. Ander watched, his sudden surge of cruel confidence replaced by horror at what he’d done. He recalled the men he’d cut down with his perfectly aimed knives, their faces permanently etched in a shroud of death. This time, he resisted the urge to vomit, covering his mouth with his hand. His own words echoed back at him: this isn’t a game… there are no rules… play to win. And in the paraphrased words of Bardock, kill or be killed.

The saiyan’s body, once so vibrant with light, began to dim, and the shadow hovering over Ander slowly receded. Black smoke emanated from his brawny body as his soul – or the approximation of a soul anyway – slowly dissipated once more from the mortal realm, back to the underworld, back to the darkest depths of Hell. Then he did something strange for a man in his position… he smirked, almost as if this had been his secret design all along, a deliberate repetition of history. Or maybe, it was because he was finally released, released of everything. Whatever the reason, Bardock’s face remained cast in that trademark smirk of his as his body disintegrated into nothing, his Super Saiyan powers gently fading and leaving the untransformed man beneath.

In his last moments, all was quiet, save for the soft hiss of black smoke. They were two men, men who hadn’t been fighting each other, but had fought completely different battles entirely, against themselves. Yet although their battles weren’t the same, the ending they sought was: both just wanted to be free, liberated of whatever chains bound them fast. Bardock had achieved his, but Ander’s fate remained unknown. So ended the story of a low-level saiyan.

Bardock’s conclusion completed, and the golden light he shone disappeared along with him, almost as if he never existed at all, leaving Ander Valis alone in the dark.

[Kill Town]

After Swat…

“So…what’s up with the title of this next event?” Lance inquired, motioning towards the text on the monitor as Gamer prompted the next feed.

“What do you mean?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Doppelganger. Have you never heard of it before?”

“I have, but…” he shook his head. “I have serious doubts that you even know what it means.”

Gamer began to grind his teeth at the thought. He had only seen the term once before, and it had popped up all over his Facebook wall feed in the days that immediately followed his discovery. Every friend, all forty-seven of them, had a celebrity image chosen that looked like them, or so they said. Kevin Jameson from his math class got Brad Pitt. His sister got Sharon Stone before she turned into a two-bit crackwhore. Those two results weren’t so bad, so Keith thought it was only right that he looked up his own celebrity match. He was pulling for Orlando Bloom, himself. What he got, however…

“Hey, let me ask you something,” Gamer said. “Do you think I look like Liberace?”

“Uh…” Lance was legitimately creeped out by the question. “Let’s just…watch the event. That’s probably for the best.”

*

“Goodbye, Raditzu,” Kaden breathed, holding out as much ki as his frame could support, which happened to be a lot, considering the reservoir of energy that he possessed. Oddly enough, Raditzu didn’t even flinch, he simply remained standing with his arms crossed, staring defiantly into the azure light. It was a sight for everyone watching to behold, indeed, as the Saiyan warrior was surely about to meet his own demise. Having lost his seemingly infinite amount of strength just minutes prior, he had to have known that, but something…something kept him from breaking. Perhaps it was his willpower that did it. Perhaps it was his pride. Whether he was blind or staring eyes-wide-open when the beam hit him was sadly irrelevant in the broad scope of things.

What did matter was the gaping hole that the attack left behind in his gut.

The Saiyan slumped to the ground, an odd grin creeping upon his face. “It’s…so weird…”

“…what is?” Kaden asked softly as he took a few silent paces closer to his fallen opponent.

“Dyin’, like this,” he hacked out blood as he spoke. “It…seems like…I’m passin’ along the torch…for some reason. I don’t…even know you…”

The courier didn’t know what to say. He merely nodded as the life seeped out of the warrior until, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

The battle on the floor above him, however, held a much different vibe. Parents fought their children without any fear or remorse, convinced that their opponents were visions just as strongly as the two daughters felt. Kirano simply moved with more speed than Xenia did, and the number of shots landed told that story quite well. The fighting spirit that the girl possessed only got her so far, and though she had put up a reasonable fight, she couldn’t sustain herself any longer.

As Xenia fell to a knee, Sage was knocked flat on her back by a large bolt of ki. Bra loomed over her, a grim expression pasted upon her visage. “Get the fuck up, Sage. I didn’t raise a weakling like you.”

“I…I don’t know what you want from me…” Sage whimpered, tears streaming out of her ducts.

Kirano and Bra sighed and shook their heads, casting glances at each other. The Saiyan Queen looked back down at her daughter. “You…you can’t be my daughter. I’m tired of this game. Hey…Kirano. Let’s just…end it.”

The man nodded sadly. Both fighters lifted a fist and swung them down, striking their respective foes in the temple.

“Oh snap,” Lance leaned back in surprise. “That was cold blooded.”

1st: Kaden
1st: Ander
Sage and Xenia are relocated to the prison. I’ll explain more about your situation when the second round events start. When I open the prison thread, go ahead and post if you want, but there won’t be a roleplay that accompanies it just yet. Gamer won’t bother explaining what the area is, and Mixie won’t show up yet. You’re welcome to roleplay meeting Yuffith and Kepler, though.

Ander wrapped up his own fight, hence his not getting mentioned in the actual roleplay. That was a great post, though.

EDIT: And yes, there was a tie for first.