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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Gohan didn’t blink his entire ride back to Frieza’s base. The only sound his head could transmit was Mentos’ dying scream; the only images being Mentos’ betrayed gasp and his body disintegrating. In the aftermath, Vegeta mentioned something about cleaning up the bodies and he hadn’t even heard it. Veget just forced him out and he went about the inhumane task virtually on autopilot.

The four space pods crash-landed into a pad, signaling their return to Planet Frieza #79. When Gohan exited and had to walk, he realized he could withdraw himself from his actions no longer. He could only dwell on what led up to the kill - how he didn’t even bother to tell Mentos his true reason for being on the planet. A voice telling him how selfish he was for it.

What did he think would happen? That Vegeta or somebody else would kill him instead? That he could escape accountability since he didn’t do it, himself? He wished he could have; instead, he had to live with the fact that he did the “honors.” And he did it just to spare himself from Vegeta. 

Gohan had crossed the line, and there was no jumping back over. So much for mom and dad’s lessons on right and wrong.

His moment of self-loathing was cut off by a gloved finger on his shoulder. First, he realized he was inside the building - he didn’t even remember walking in. Then, he looked up at the face of who tapped him. It was Vegeta’s, and the sight made every muscle in Gohan’s jaw lock up. In his desperate search for a light in the dark void, he’d foolishly allowed himself to almost respect the Saiyan prince - only to be exposed to the monster he truly was. A man who would kill even children for his own enjoyment.

Vegeta opened his mouth to speak, but took a second to take in Gohan’s exasperated countenance. There was a vacant look in the half-breed child’s face that Vegeta recognized very well. He knew the kill would break him, but that was the point. It was the line that needed to be crossed; a lesson that needed to be learned.

Better he taught it than Frieza, that was for sure.

"Nappa, Raditz, and I are going to the medical room to get our wounds fixed up,” he finally said. It's nothing that would require a rejuvenation chamber, so it should take a bit. Just wait here."

Gohan didn't answer. Instead, he took a seat up against the wall. Vegeta rolled his eyes and took off to the medical room. It took 45 minutes for him and the other Saiyans to return; they looked cleaned up, give or take a few bandages. They also wore pristine new uniforms.

"We're going to report to Frieza now. Get up," Vegeta directed.

Gohan listened, standing up and following the three down the hallway. They stopped at the metallic doors that stood before Frieza’s throne room, though Zaron was already standing in wait.

"There is no need for you to report, yet," Zarbon informed. "Lord Frieza is at a conference with his father and Cooler, and should be back by tomorrow."

The three elder Saiyans nodded in response, and then Zarbon added, "You all should get some lunch. I'm sure such a high level purge has left you guys feeling rather… parched. ” 

That patronizing snicker Zabon attached to his comment made Nappa in particular balk in anger. In fact, he took a challenging step forward, but was blocked by Vegeta’s arm. The shorter superior simply shook his head in silent warning. Of course, it was Zarbon’s desired response, and the effeminate warrior only laughed in smug satisfaction.

In a hurry to escape Zarbon’s presence, The Saiyans headed towards the mess hall - though one was missing. Gohan walked in the opposite direction. Taking notice, Nappa turned around.

"Hey, kid, aren't you gonna eat?" he called.

Gohan didn't reply and continued walking. "Well…?" Nappa asked.

Gohan sharply swung around and hatefully glared at Nappa. 

“I WONT!”

Vegeta and Raditz both turned around. The three Saiyans stared at Gohan intensely; the boy had sported a scowl that would rival even Vegeta's. Tension permeated through the halls as both sides stared each other down, until Nappa’s boisterous laughter brought the standoff to an end.

"That's the spirit, kid!". 

Nappa turned back around and headed for the hall. Raditz followed along, although Vegeta let his stare linger. Gohan's scowl deepened, but Vegeta continued to observe. Finally, he grunted and followed the two other Saiyans away.

Even with them gone, Gohan remained in the hall for a few more moments while he let his frustration boil over. He marched in search of the sleeping quarters and bumped into a pair of soldiers along the way.

"Hey, watch where you're going, stupid monkey!" snapped the slimy green hominid.

"Get out of my way," Gohan said through clamped teeth.

"Lookie here - a spirited one! You better watch how you speak to me," the green alien warned.

With his teeth bared like a wild animal, Gohan stepped forward; it was enough to set off the scouter of the more human-like soldier. "Whoa, this kid's power level is at 1550,” he observed. “Let’s just get out of the way."

The green one curtly nodded and stepped aside, opting not to poke the proverbial ape. Horror stories about the firecracker that was young Vegeta circulated through Frieza’s army for years. The last thing they needed was another Saiyan brat throwing murderous tantrums.

With them gone, Gohan sighed and eventually found the room, where he sat atop his cot. As he sat with hands tightly gripped around his knees, he allowed his growing anger to boil. In only a few days he’d had about as much of this life as he could stand. The Saiyan boy could feel his Ki fluctuating radically and subconsciously gripped harder at his pants legs because of it. A long day lay ahead, and Gohan doubted he could control his temper much longer.

After training with Saibamen for a few hours, Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz arrived in the room. Gohan hadn’t moved an inch in that time. The Saiyan trio called it a day, eagerly awaiting their next assignment. The Saiyan’s sleeping positions should have been Gohan’s signal to join them, but he just continued to sit with his head buried in his knees. Sleep escaped him; his mind only focused on his last moments on Planet Trident.

While the other two Saiyans slept - Nappa in particular was always a heavy sleeper - Vegeta stayed awake. He could hear everything from Gohan - the occasional shudder, a growl here and there, even a few whimpers. Disgusting , Vegeta thought. This much anguish, wasted on one damn kill? And he had the nerve to carry Saiyan blood. Clearly, the peaceful planet that was Earth infected Kakarot with its softness and allowed him to spread the virus to his son. The low-level trash had forsaken his natural calling and left his son ill-prepared for the life of a Saiyan. Gohan was with the Saiyans now for a purpose - and if he was going to be useful, he had to learn .

Sighing, Vegeta got up and walked over to Gohan's cot. "Get up, half-breed."

As expected, Gohan ignored him; so Vegeta yanked him up by the hair. "We're going to train."

"No," Gohan shot back.

"You ought to pick a better answer. When I let go, you better follow me.” A tighter squeeze punctuated his warning.

Vegeta let go of Gohan's hair and gazed at him expectantly. Gohan exhaled heavily through his nose, dusted off his armor and slipped off his cot like a robot being operated with a remote. He followed Vegeta out of the room, down the hall, and into the training facility, where Vegeta shut the door from behind him. Gohan stood dead center, sleep-deprived and agitated. Vegeta folded his arms and surveyed the half-Saiyan’s malcontence.

"Hit me," Vegeta directed.

Gohan cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Usually, Vegeta would start off the training sessions.

"Well, what are you waiting for, brat?!”

Growling irritably first, Gohan charged at Vegeta and aimed a half-hearted punch at his head, but it was easily evaded and answered with a punch to the face.

"Too slow. Hit me again."

Gohan growled in frustration with his face on the floor but swung back up for a kick, this time with a little more conviction. However, Vegeta nonchalantly swatted his leg down and sent him right back down to the cold stone with another punch.

"Try again."

This time, Gohan slammed his loathing-filled fist into the floor before he stood back up. He took his charge with renewed vigor, looking to deal some real damage. But instead of landing a punch, his tiny fist fell in Vegeta’s steel grip.

"You're too damn weak, brat," Vegeta snorted. "Weak and not worth my time."

With a ferocious growl, Gohan slipped out of Vegeta’s grip - which Vegeta didn’t expect, actually - and sent more aimless punches Vegeta’s way.

"I hate you…I hate you, Vegeta!" Gohan screamed in between his feverish strikes.

"Is that so?" Vegeta said before striking Gohan down yet again. Before he opened his mouth back up to speak again, he waited for Gohan to stand back up. He didn’t give him a chance to prepare for another attack when he began.

“You should . I’d expect nothing less,” Vegeta said. He swung his arm to the door. “I walk through these halls every waking day hating everyone and everything around me.”

Enveloped in his own resentment, Vegeta pulled his arm back and balled it up tightly into a fist. “You think I want this?! To be the slave of some lizard freak, carrying out destruction only to serve his will?” Seeing Gohan peevishly glaring at the floor, Vegeta growled impatiently.

“Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, boy!”

Gohan lifted his head up and allowed his resentful eyes to meet Vegeta’s; he’d never seen him that fired up. He’d never seen anything but coldness in the prince’s eyes.

“So you were taken from your home and miss your parents - tough shit.” Vegeta’s callous dismissal earned a hostile scowl and a standoffish stance from the child. “You are a Saiyan. Your strength is the only thing you have to your name. Suffering is your right of passage and it will make you stronger.”

“I don’t care !” Gohan screamed through tears. “I just want to go home!”

“Foolish boy,” Vegeta spat. “We’re more alike than you think. You cry for your home; I don’t even have one. Gone - erased by a meteor like a worthless piece of rock. Saiyans are bred to fight, and I’m stuck doing it not to spread the terror of our name through the entire universe, but to fill Frieza’s pockets.”

Vegeta watched as the tears drifted down Gohan’s facel were it not for the vengeful glare from which they fell, he would have found it a disgraceful sight. 

“The real difference is I don’t cry about it like a spoiled little turd like you ,” Vegeta said with pure contempt. “Your bullshit little rock doesn’t matter anymore. Everything you knew is gone. The only way you’ll ever survive this is by throwing away your foolish morals. Lucky for me, I’m a full-blooded Saiyan - I never had any.”  

He lifted his hand and pointed his index finger at his own jaw, with a mischievous smirk etched across his face. “So if you’re that distraught over missing your mother’s milk, then-”

Vegeta didn’t even need to verbalize his offer before Gohan unleashed all of his pent-up fury in a punch delivered point blank to the jaw he pointed to. In fact, he hadn’t even expected it to carry so much power; enough to knock him off balance. He delivered an elbow to Gohan’s head to send him down to the floor before he could follow up, however, and then placed his foot on the back of the boy’s head to subdue him. When he felt blood spill from his own lip, they curled into a satisfied smirk.

“Now that’s what I like to see,” Vegeta said, his voice filled with twisted admiration. “More of that, and you’ll soar.”

Though Vegeta removed his foot from Gohan’s head, the boy remained on the floor. He allowed himself to absorb the full weight of Vegeta’s words. As much as it pained him to admit, Vegeta’s small insight about his past had drilled a bit of understanding into his young brain. Gohan didn’t want to become a bad guy. He wanted to believe so badly that his father would somehow make it to this planet and break him free.

But if Vegeta too was a boy ripped from his home and forced to work for captors he resented...then what was Gohan to do in the same spot? Perhaps Vegeta was right…

“Are you just gonna lay there all day?!” Vegeta snapped to grab his attention. Truthfully, he’d allowed Gohan a few moments to lay there just so he could properly mull over his speech, but now it was time to go forward. Gohan shakily arose to his feet, his face filled with what looked like shame.

“Now, let’s start training. If you’re gonna survive, you have to keep getting stronger.”

Gohan sheepishly nodded and fought off his nervous shudders to crouch into a fighting stance...

After finally getting some sleep, Gohan was awoken by Nappa. "Get up, kid. Frieza's back so we gotta report our mission to him," Nappa explained. "And get yourself a fresh set of armor, too."

Gohan nodded and found a clean set of the armor he’d already grown accustomed to in the closet. After changing, he joined the three other Saiyans in the hallway. He received an approving nod from Vegeta, who led the three down the hall. One of Frieza's servants opened the door for the quartet.

The Saiyans walked into the typical scene; Zarbon on the left, Dodoria on the right, and in the middle, the tyrant himself: Frieza. All four Saiyans kneeled before him. Vegeta’s speech had merely pushed Gohan’s temper aside rather than resolve it; the sight of Frieza brought it all back. While the Saiyans always appeared tense even when neutral, Gohan stood out even amongst them.

"Lord Frieza, Planet Trident has been successfully purged of all of its life," Vegeta reported "We have also thoroughly cleaned the planet up of all of its corpses so it can be suitable for sale."

His report received Frieza’s coy chuckles. "Goodness, Vegeta, you didn’t need to go the extra-mile. I already had a clean-up crew prepared for such an undertaking!"

Bullshit , Vegeta thought with a low growl. That may have been the case with other soldiers, but any time the Saiyans failed to clean up after a purge, they were given swift punishment. Frieza's could see Vegeta’s anger on his face loud and clear, which he very much enjoyed.

"But alas, my careless lack of information has overworked you so,” he added with one of his performative sighs. “Though I must say, your quick work of such a powerful planet is most intriguing. I take it you resorted to that rebarbative Great Ape form of yours, no?”

Not that any of them, even Gohan, knew what rebarbative meant, but they figured it to be one of Frieza’s many magniloquent insults. While the elder Saiyans kept their composure, the malignant sound of Frieza’s throaty chuckles coiled through Gohan’s mind and made him grind his teeth in discomfort.

"And that is why I keep you Saiyans around. Despite your primitive, plebeian nature that makes you no more functional than wild animals, you are well-suited for combat." Frieza’s insincere praise made Vegeta dig his fist into the stony surface. Oh, how the bastard loved to bait him into punishments.

As he sipped his delectable wine, Frieza observed the Saiyans who silently seethed in his presence. He found their subservient positions to be the most fitting for their unscrupulous race.

His attention was focused most on the youngest of the four. "So, Son Gohan, how does it feel to have successfully completed your first purge? I imagine it was most exhilarating to finally dirty your hands with your brutes-in-arms.”

Gohan’s cheeks flared to a deep crimson. His grip loosened with every one of Frieza’s loquacious sentences. His forehead drizzled with sweat, his palms bled from how hard his nails dug into them, and his teeth flared in pain from how hard he ground them against each other. While Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz’s tempers also flared, they had decades of experience with Frieza’s games. It was a labyrinth only the most seasoned minds could navigate; Gohan on the other hand, was leading himself to the brink.

And unfortunately for Gohan, Frieza could read his face like the most elegant of poetry. That look – he could remember that same one etched on a younger Vegeta's face as clear as the air running through his nostrils, as if the Prince had only reached adulthood within the last hour. It filled the tyrant with immeasurable joy to finally have another Saiyan child to poke and prod.

"Oh my, that is quite the tempestuous look on your face, my young lad," Frieza observed. "And what, pray tell, has left you so vexed?”

That poisonous voice finally broke Gohan’s resolve.

"SHUT UP!"

The room went silent.

Vegeta, Nappa, Raditz - all three of their heads snapped up, slack-jawed in awe . Never would they have guessed that the meek boy would finally find the resolve to verbally lash out at Frieza of all people.

While Zarbon and Dodoria scowled at the boy, their boss remained even-keeled - though his eyes had narrowed into slits.

" What did you just say, boy?" Frieza asked in a grisly low drawl.

Seemingly unaware or uncaring of the wickedness darkening Frieza’s eyes, Gohan jolted up on both feet. With his fists tightly clenched at his sides, Gohan glared at Frieza with pure contempt. "Just shut up! Your sissy little voice is pissing me off!"

"Gohan, no…!" Vegeta shouted. He hadn’t spoken to Frieza in such a way since he was a teenager.

Zarbon growled. "You stupid monkey, do you not realize who you're t-"

Frieza calmly waved off his assistant. "Silence, Zarbon." Though his demeanor seemed placid, his tone was odious. The venom in his eyes practically pierced through Gohan’s pores as he arose from his chair.

"Zarbon, could you be a doll and place my wine on the table behind us?" he asked, his pitch-black drawl not wavering for a second.

"Yes, sire," Zarbon replied, taking the wine glass from Frieza's hand and setting it down on the table.

It was at that moment that Gohan’s anger vanished; his knees buckled underneath the crushing force of the dreadful eyes staring into his soul.

Though his vision never left Gohan, Frieza turned his attention to the eldest Saiyans. "You three – get out. Now ."

Not even giving a second thought, the trio stood up and headed for the door. Before Vegeta left, however, he looked over his shoulder at Gohan. Involuntarily, his left eye twitched.

Be strong, kid.

Reluctantly, Vegeta turned around and left the room, leaving Gohan all alone with the monsters.

Gohan felt his will to even live melt as Frieza slowly stalked towards him. That look – it could make the mightiest warriors, even the Gods themselves, cower in fear and plead for mercy. It left no imagination as to the hell he was about to reign over the Saiyan child.

"Truthfully, I should have seen this coming sooner," Frieza mused, his voice back to it’s usual lax form. "It’s a trait far too common amongst your whole simian hide. The failure to remember your place.” His arms loftily tucked behind his back, Frieza circled around Gohan, observing his tense shudders.

“A sissy , huh?” Frieza asked, resentment creeping into the voice Gohan carelessly insulted. “Just the type of epithet I’d expect to hear from you boorish he-men.” He stopped once he was facing Gohan’s back.

Even without exhaustion, Gohan found himself gasping for air. He could practically feel Frieza’s menacing glare from behind him. He collapsed to his hands and knees, when he felt a sharp pain drive into his spine - Frieza’s knee. It was the worst pain he had ever felt in his life; not only could Gohan feel his consciousness slip away, he wanted it to happen. Anything to spare him of the pain pulsating through his body.

Frieza circled around Gohan again until he was standing in front of him. While he found Gohan’s agony satisfactory, his fun had only just begun. Frieza turned to Dodoria.

"Dodoria, remove the boy's armor," he said.

The pink minion did as asked, slinging Gohan’s armor above his head and hurling it to the floor. Frieza knelt down and lifted Gohan up by his shirt-collar, pouring his eyes into his. The young lay in a daze, ready to keel over at any second. Frieza was frightening enough from a distance, but seeing his icy stare up close and personal taught Gohan the true meaning of terror. He was looking into the eyes of the Grim Reaper himself.

"Now, now, boy, stay with me," he said in a sing-song tone. "You didn’t think this was over, did you?"

Frieza directed Zarbon and Dodoria by tilting his head towards the disheveled boy, and his two henchman lifted Gohan up until he hung by his knees.

"Now, the next part of your punishment requires your chest and back to be exposed. Seeing as how you're wearing a bodysuit, I will unfortunately have to remove it the hard way," Frieza said, gently.

Gohan instinctively tried to wrestle out of Zarbon and Dodoria's grip, but to no avail. A deep fever raged in his head as all of Vegeta’s earlier speeches about crying fell to the wayside. Fresh tears flowed from both of his eyes, under the overwhelming terror Frieza had stricken within him.

Frieza darkly chuckled. "Splendid; tears never cease to be delightful."

Frieza raised a single finger, pointing it at Gohan's chest. It’s lucent, pink light made Gohan again try to fruitlessly escape Zarbon and Dodoria’s clutches.

"P-please…!" he begged, desperately trying to relieve himself.

His pleas only received laughter from the three monsters. "Oh my; begging now, are we? You should have thought about that before you mouthed off!” Frieza said through maniacal laughter.

The entire room blackened around Gohan as he gazed at Frieza’s sinister smirk. "I'm afraid your pleading won't get you out of your situation now, simian filth." The tyrant had to admit - Gohan’s brazen slight actually struck enough of a nerve to crack his polite facade. 

He fired. The searing pink blast struck Gohan’s shoulder, burning through fabric of his shirt to singe his flesh. The smoldering heat made Gohan hiss through his teeth in pain.

Before Gohan could even blink, another pink blast escaped Frieza’s fingers; this one was much larger in size and struck Gohan’s torso. The pain was far more intense, the heat was far more broiling. Gohan coughed hoarsely while trying to free his hand to tend to his blistering, bright-red chest.

He wanted to die, right then and there. This wasn’t Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz’s harsh training sessions; those had a motive, twisted as it was. But this? It was cold-blooded torture, enacted only for the amusement of a wicked space tyrant. In the course of only a minute could Gohan feel his skin peel from the severe burns the lizard had dealt him.

However, the job wasn't done yet. There was still plenty left of the top half of Gohan's black suit. Marveling at Gohan's charring skin, Frieza raised his finger once more. The pink glow enveloped Gohan’s vision, embedding itself into his brain. Frieza fired.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Whatever remained of Gohan’s upper-bodysuit had been burned away. A small cloud of smirk hovered above the floor, emanating from the molten flesh of the boy writhing in Zarbon and Dodoria’s grip. His agonized shrieks could be heard even from behind the enclosed doors, undoubtedly in the earshot of his elder Saiyan comrades. Only through a subconscious willpower did Gohan remain awake.

Frieza sighed in sadistic content. " Sensational! Congratulations, Gohan - you are now perfectly up to code for the next stage!”

Gohan sank in Zarbon and Dodoria's arms, dreading whatever lay ahead.

"Now, I do hope that you survive this one," Frieza said. Performative diplomacy had returned to his voice. "It would be a true tragedy for me to lose such an adorable little monkey!"

Frieza turned to his left, facing a door from a few feet away. "Follow me, Zarbon and Dodoria. You know where we're headed next."

The two warriors nodded, following Frieza's lead with Gohan still seized, carelessly letting his knees slide and scrape against the gravelly surface. They stopped when they reached a dark, barren room. The only things present were a set of shackles hanging from the ceiling, and a collection of whips mantled against the wall.

Zarbon hauled Gohan up and locked both of his hands into the shackles, leaving the poor demi-Saiyan dangling from the ceiling with his hands above his head. Only one of his eyes remained open. He panted heavily as he forced down the bile rising to his throat from the smell of his burning skin. Through his cloudy vision, he could see Frieza removing one of the many whips from the wall. Smirking devilishly, Frieza whipped the cord to test its ability. Its crack sound pierced Gohan’s eardrum and made his tail rigidly curl.

Frieza held the whip up, showcasing it until Gohan could get a clear look. "Now, since this is only your first time, I shall go easy on you. I'll only use the standard whip."

Frieza wasn’ sure if Gohan was trying to shaking in an attempt to escape or simply in terror; either answer pleased him. He circled Gohan while harmonizing one of his repulsive chuckles, surveying the damage dealt thus far. Gohan’s body was already wrought with burns and lacerations from his "unclothing."

And it was about to get much uglier.

"Please understand why this is necessary," Frieza began in his pleasant tone. "I do this with the hope that you will never mouth off in such a way again. One must learn the error of their ways in order to move forward!”

Frieza lazily placed one of his hands on Gohan's shoulder. While the coolness of his touch was a sharp contrast to Gohan stinging skin, it didn’t soothe one bit. Frieza sighed in distress. "A shame really; if you just remained an obedient little boy, you wouldn’t need to experience this. Alas, the only way to learn is through twenty lashes." Frieza removed his hand and pulled the one holding the whip back.

“I assure you - this is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you.”

With a fury that could only be harnessed by the most feared tyrant in the universe, Frieza fiercely smacked the whip into Gohan’s back. The force alone made Gohan violently spasm while nearly choking on his own spit. The whip burned him even worse than the blasts, which he didn't even think possible. He could feel his back ripping open; and the warm liquid oozing down to the lower half of his suit confirmed it.

Despite the agonized reaction, Frieza still expressed disappointment. "And here I thought you were going to scream. You certainly are tough."

He swung it again, mercilessly thrashing Gohan's shoulders. The force of the blow nearly snapped the shackle from the ceiling. Gohan’s entire right shoulder swole to a bright red. Tread marks began taking form on his back, to Frieza’s amusements. But still, Gohan crunched down on his bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"Still no screams, I see. Vegeta really has taught you well," Frieza marveled. "Like they say, monkey see, monkey do!"

With force that would put the other two whips to shame, Frieza swung down on Gohan with unholy wrath, caving into his abdomen. Gohan coughed, Gohan gasped, but still, Gohan didn’t scream. While Frieza frowned, it was more out of focus than frustration - almost there, almost there! Frieza raised a finger to his chin as he pondered some way to bring out those yelps of agony. And then it hit him - the perfect place to hit!

With renewed vigor, Frieza pulled his arm far back and summoned the type of strength he’d use to strike fear into a formidable enemy. The spot he slammed into? The area of Gohan’s back only a centimeter above his tail. That broke the damn, making Gohan cry out in agony from the excruciating sensation that surged through his entire body. Frieza callously laughed, delighted at how much his discovery panned out.

The tyrant whipped the spot again and again, howling in laughter with every strike. The sounds of Gohan's blood curdling screams were like a cacophony of pain and suffering, motivating Frieza to strike with greater force each time.

By the time Frieza neared the twentieth strike, Gohan had lost the strength in his vocal cords to even squeak; instead he desperately heaved for air. He couldn’t even figure out how he still remained conscious. It was like some evil God was keeping him up so he could feel every debilitating second of this suffering.

"And now, magic number 20!" Frieza yelled, his voice devoid of sanity.

One more time, Gohan smacked the whip against Gohan’s back. It was the strongest blow yet. Gohan hacked up blood as he convulsed violently. Frieza observed Gohan’s horribly wounded black with connosieur’s delight; it was a mess of welts, burns, tread marks, and crimson. Beautiful, almost – like a painting Frieza hand crafted to convey pure suffering.

Frieza walked around until he faced Gohan. The boy’s face was nearly as mangled as his back – the area around his mouth and jaw was stained with spit and blood, and his forehead was damp with sweat his bangs were practically glued to his forehead. Only his right eye was open - barely. Though his head sunk Frieza grabbed him by the chin and forced it back up.

"Now, there is still one last step of your punishment." Frieza laughed when he saw Gohan's face tense up. "Oh, don't worry, it's nothing physical! But, dare I say, your harsh remarks actually hurt my feelings. You see, I’m very sensitive about my voice, so to have it sullied by an uncouth Saiyan neanderthal such as yourself is a shame I cannot bear.

"So that is why I shall introduce you to solitary confinement!" Frieza turned to Zarbon, who had watched the entire punishment with twisted enjoyment. "You, retrieve the boy's armor. Dodoria, loosen his shackles."

Dodoria unlocked the shackles holding Gohan's arms. Had it not been for Frieza's grip of his jaw, he would have succumbed to the pain and exhaustion and fell right then and there. As it was, however, he sank to his knees.

Zarbon soon returned with Gohan's armor and slid it down his head. "I'm assuming you know where the box is by now, right?" Frieza asked, handing Zarbon a leash and collar. Zarbon grabbed it and forcefully placed the collar around Gohan's neck, holding the leash in a tight grip.

"Oh, that sight is just so becoming of the boy!" Frieza cackled.

Gohan felt what little dignity he had left crumbling. Now he was being treated like a true pet, being dragged around by a damn leash. Zarbon thrusted Gohan towards him. "We're taking you to the famed hotbox, kid!" he snickered. "How long, Frieza?"

"Oh, the standard three days should suffice," Frieza replied with indifference.

Zarbon left the room, dragging Gohan behind him. Several soldiers watched as they walked down the hallway - among them, Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz. Despite their callous nature, Raditz and Nappa did have a hint of pity in their eyes. The sight made Vegeta sick to his stomach, not only because they were treating Gohan like a rodent, but because he had experienced the same things as a child himself. No doubt, he was going to the goddamned hotbox.

Zarbon and Gohan left the building. "Fly with me unless you want to be hanged," Zarbon said.

Gohan didn't even reply, instead flaring up what little Ki he had left to fly with him. They headed for a humid section of the planet, where the air ran thin. It was a barren piece of land, save for one particular spot - rectangular compartment with a door. Zarbon swung it up open and chucked Gohan inside letting Gohan smack against the floor. Gohan made no attempt to get back up.

"I'll be seeing you in three days," Zarbon said with a laugh.

Zarbon slowly closed the door, shutting out the last bit of light from Gohan.

Chapter Text

Three torturous days.

That's how long Gohan was trapped in that box. No food, no water, not even a semblance of company unless it was an insect or a rodent. On top of that, the heat was unbearable; it only took a few hours for Gohan to pass out. Even worse, he still had to endure another day after waking up. By the end, sweat, blood, and vomit infested the entire box. Much of the blood came from Gohan's surely-infected wounds from Frieza; some of it also from his knuckles after a few feeble escape attempts ended in them cracking against the solid, steel-inforced walls. His desperation for escape remained unfulfilled.

His pleas were finally answered when, on the third day, the door swung open, bringing back the light that he had been deprived of for 72 hours. Standing before him was a familiar face – Zarbon. His lips were curled into an arrogant smirk as he surveyed Gohan's appearance.

He was shriveling. His forehead was damp, and sticky. His eyes were wide open and a bright pinkt; they weren't even directed at Zarbon, as if he didn't even notice him. Scabs and bruises decorated both of his arms – one particular spot on his right shoulder was swollen and a sickly green. Rather than a four-year old boy, Gohan resembled a zombie.

"Time's up. I hope you've learned your lesson, monkey," Zarbon snickered.

Not even allowing a response, Zarbon pulled the catatonic child up by his leash. Gohan was at least aware enough to brace himself for Zarbon's ascent. So broken he was, that the escape didn't even give him relief; he was sick, aching, and more importantly, stripped of what little dignity he had left.

When they finally returned to the base, Zarbon stepped in and shoved Gohan ahead "Go and get yourself cleaned up," Zarbon said with a disgusted scowl. "Your stench is nauseating." After finally removing the leash from Gohan's neck, Zarbon returned to Frieza's throne room.

For a solid minute, Gohan didn't move a muscle. Instead, he looked across with a thousand-yard stare. His strength and presence of mind returned just enough for him to take a few haggard steps forward. He turned left and headed down the hallway amidst the curious stares of passerby soldiers. Among them were Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz, fresh off of a meal. Gohan's broken appearance alarmed even them.

One soldier, however, only took amusement - a scaly, green man, with bloated lips and frills going down his head. He stepped in front of Gohan, blocking his path.

"Will you look at that - monkey boy finally learned his lesson! Serves you right!" he said through a laugh.

Vegeta flexed his jaw, agitated by the slimy soldier's taunts.

"Maybe next time you won't run your stupid mouth at Lord Frieza!" The alien soldier waved one hand at Gohan dismissively and used the other to pinch his nose in exaggerated disgust. "And jeez, the smell on you! It's horrifying! What did you do, take a shit for three days straight?"

The maddening sound of the soldier's laughter narrowed Gohan's bloodshot eyes into slits. The sound was every bit as nauseating as Frieza's torture. He wanted it out of his head, now. Squeezing his fist, the four year old Saiyan unleashed a ferocious growl.

And then, he blasted a hole straight through the soldier, killing him on the spot.

The whole hallway crowd gasped in shock - a new Vegeta around, indeed. Most of them took silent note to stay out of the young Saiyan's bad side and scurried away to aimless tasks; some even stepped on the corpse of the common sense-deficient cohort.

The full-blooded Saiyan triumvirate remained, however. All three studied Gohan intently. They'd never seen such a scowl on the gentle child's face. A bright glow developed around him, alarming them all.

"The boy's slipping!" Raditz yelled.

Vegeta paused in thought, before finally saying, "Get a hold of yourself!"

He fell on deaf ears. Instead, Gohan's glow exploded into an intense aura. Realizing the potential disaster awaiting, Vegeta rushed at him and squeezed his shoulder just hard enough to subdue him. Though the heat Gohan gave off stung, Vegeta kept his grip firm. Little by little, Gohan's temperature cooled while the flame of his aura flickered away. When his power crashed down, so did his resolve; he crumbled to the floor, sobbing so hard he struggled to breath. The sound of the shuddering child's whimpers shook even the Saiyans.

Vegeta almost delivered another harsh order to buck up, but the furthest corner of his mind stopped his words before they could reach his mouth. Instead, he looked away.

"Let's just hurry up and get this kid to a healing tank," Nappa said, more subdued than normal.

"Yeah, who knows how messed up those wounds are," Raditz added. It was rough seeing his flesh and blood in such a state at the hands of their tyrant.

Vegeta breathed an agitated sigh and dragged Gohan down the hall by his arm; he figured the boy was barely even aware of their presence.

Almost immediately after stepping inside the room, Vegeta shoved Gohan in Nappa's arms and turned his back to him. Nappa raised a curious eyebrow before removing Gohan's armor. Even he and Raditz winced at Gohan's mangled, discolored flesh. Frankly, it wasn't normal for Frieza to be so involved in anything, let alone punishments. But Nappa did recall a similar incident with Vegeta during his teenage years.

While the two larger Saiyans situated Gohan in the tank, Vegeta growled and stormed out. Raditz and Nappa paused, bemused by their prince's behavior.

"Wonder what's got him so bothered," Raditz said.

Nappa took a curious glance to the doorway, where Vegeta simply stood still with his arms folded. He could see Vegeta's eyes twitching in his stare. Gohan's wounds were uncomfortably grotesque to be sure, but why was Vegeta, the proud prince of bloodshed, so bothered?

Unbeknownst to the Saiyans, Zarbon had witnessed the skirmish while he searched for a new scouter. He rushed back to Frieza's room, eager to report the incident.

"Lord Frieza, I just saw something rather interesting," Zarbon said.

"Oh…?" Frieza replied, airily sipping from his wine glass. "Do tell, Zarbon."

"Well, sire, I just saw the Saiyan child kill one of our men."

"Hn. How tragic," Frieza replied with cold disinterest.

Zarbon looked at his ruler with slight surprise. "But sire, shouldn't he be reprimand-"

"Silence, Zarbon," Frieza said, with just a hint of annoyance. "The soldier must not have been worth much if he were disposed of by a severely famished and deteriorated monkey. He was of no use to us." The tyrant's lips curled into a smirk. "Besides, I find the story rather entertaining. Wouldn't you agree, Zarbon?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza" A sigh betrayed Zarbon's disappointment. He had hoped the news would lead the boy into another gruesome punishment, but alas - one couldn't get everything they wanted.

Once he saw Gohan's tank close from the corner of his eye, Vegeta headed into the sleeping quarters. Inexplicably stricken with nausea, he lay down on his cot with his eyes planted on the ceiling. The child's condition made his skin crawl; a feeling he hated. Though he tried to force himself asleep, his mind focused only on Gohan.

Gohan's eyes slowly opened. He'd been in the rejuvenation chamber for two hours. One of the many elderly scientists in Frieza's ranks opened its door and allowed the solution to spill to the floor. Gohan removed the breathing mask on his own and let out a drawn out sigh, relieved to finally be out of the chamber. He looked down at his chest and arms; there were scars aplenty, but the most ghastly of wounds and burns were mercifully gone. All in all, Gohan was good as new and free of any injury or illness. Far more pertinent, however, was the new stream of power coursing through his veins. Just to confirm what he was feeling, Gohan rapidly punched air. The raw speed at which he struck made him gasp.

Gohan looked across the room at the table, where a new uniform lay in wait.

"You should get rest, Gohan," the doctor advised. "Lord Frieza should be briefing you and the other Saiyans about your next assignment tomorrow."

Gohan came to an abrupt stop just as he was about to slip his armor on.

Frieza.

Frieza.

Frieza.

Flames blazed in Gohan's chest at the sound of his name. An annoyed hiss escaped his teeth while he put on the remainder of his attire.

Out of curiosity, the doctor ran his scouter and nearly tripped on his feet upon seeing the power level. Tw-twenty five hundred…? Unreal, he said to himself. He's just a kid and he's already approaching Nappa! Lord Frieza's made quite a find!

Gohan slipped his scouter on and marched to the sleeping quarters. Nappa and Raditz were already sprawled out on their cots, snoring obnoxiously. On the other hand, Vegeta lay wide awake with one leg crossed over the other. He grunted to acknowledge Gohan's arrival.

Much like three days earlier, Gohan sat down on his cot and rested his chin on his knees. Though it was late, he'd gotten plenty of rest in the tank and didn't see himself sleeping again any time soon. A foreign feeling enveloped Gohan – his withdrawn mania was gone, but in its place was a voice in his head almost begging him to get his hands on something and rip it apart.

And that something was unmistakably Frieza.

Hit the books. Listen to mom. Know your manners. Become an upstanding citizen. Those were the things Gohan knew. He wanted nothing to do with the life of violence he was thrust into. Yet now, he was itching to tear Frieza limb from limb for what he did to him. It made him tremble – he didn't think himself capable of such thoughts. Vegeta and Raditz had stroked the flames of his rage enough as it was, but Frieza was a completely different story. The four-year old half-Saiyan wanted his blood.

Vegeta snuck a glance at the stewing boy. The insomnia, the barely restrained temper - Vegeta didn't even see Gohan sitting there anymore. He saw himself, 20 or so years younger and almost crippled by his craving for Frieza's head on a mantle. Though he learned obedience through the years, the shadow of hate for Frieza never faded away, ever since that day...

From the day he was born, the heir to the royal Saiyan throne had demonstrated an extraordinary power level for his age. His strength put even-fully grown warriors to shame, demonstrating a fighting efficiency that earned a nod of respect from men all across the universe. There had even been talks among the Saiyans that perhaps Prince Vegeta would be "the one," the Legendary Super Saiyan.

However, none of that mattered to Vegeta at that moment.

For he was now going to become a slave, working at his hands and feet in the name of King Cold's bratty new successor - Frieza.

The six-year old Saiyan Prince walked through the rocky terrain of his humid home planet with his red cape and his armor, bearing the royal crest of his family on the chest plate. Even at such a young age, he exuded pride. Vegeta walked up the ramp of the spaceship and made his walk inside to meet his new superior.

Already waiting for him at the entrance was his father, the King. The tall, bearded Saiyan gave his son a stern look. "Don't forget what I told you, son," King Vegeta said. "No matter what Lord Frieza says or does, never show fear. You represent all of us, even me."

Prince Vegeta nodded and followed his father to Frieza's main room. A frail servant slid the metallic doors, opening the large room. Standing across from the regal Saiyans were three beings – Zarbon, Dodoria, and the tyrant himself, Frieza. Vegeta had only heard of him, but now, seeing him up close, he could see how such a man could have amassed such power. His eyes were a harrowing blood red – and they were directed right at him. However, the prince didn't even flinch.

"Ah, I am so very glad to see you, good King," Frieza said politely. Vegeta's left eye twitched. Something about his voice rubbed him the wrong way. It may have been elegant, but it felt like slime.

"Yes, Lord," King Vegeta said before getting down on one knee.

Vegeta's jaw flexed at the sight. Again with the submissiveness? It was bad enough with that purple overgrown house cat; but the King of all Saiyans bowing down to this effeminate lizard? A slight to his royal blood.

King Vegeta glanced at his son and motioned his chin towards the ground, silently directing him to kneel as well. He complied but not without voicing his displeasure with a low growl. As he bowed, his ears caught a chuckle from Frieza. Just the sound of that laughter made his brain rattle.

Frieza surveyed every aspect of Vegeta's appearance. Prince Vegeta's face formed into a scowl in impatience. He looked over at his father, who had his eyes closed. A bead of sweat slowly made its way down the king's head; had he not been trying to remain respectful, the younger Saiyan would have addressed his father for it out loud.

Frieza finally broke the silence. "So you're Prince Vegeta? Even for a little boy, you have a fairly good look to you. Please, work for me," the icy tyrant said through a giggle.

Vegeta fought off another growl. For the first time in his life, he actually felt a sense of revulsion. Frieza's tender demeanor, that polite way of speaking, that voice…all of it made his stomach churn. Even at his young age he could see through the facade. The lizard bastard in truth thought very little of him; he could feel it. Being looked at as some toy made the Prince's blood boil. Exhaling through his nose, he made his best effort to fan the flames flickering up inside him.

"Well, my young lad?" Frieza asked, his voice sizzling with anticipation. "I do hope that you accept my request." Vegeta's eyes widened in fear - though Frieza's request was affable, he could sense the threat swimming beneath it. No matter how much Frieza tried to present otherwise with his kindness, Vegeta really didn't have a choice in the matter.

"As you wish, Lord Frieza," Vegeta finally grumbled, his voice shaky.

Frieza's eyes lit up. "Ah, fantastic, Prince! I do look forward to your services! Now, normally, I would have either Zarbon or Dodoria test your might, but I can see from you now that you have fantastic potential; true royalty! Thus, you are in luck."

Every last one of Frieza's words repulsed Vegeta. This was his life now? An eccentric overlord's cute little pet? He was supposed to be the Prince of all Saiyans; nobody but his mother, and father - who he was beginning to see as a coward - should've had any say over him.

"You are dismissed, young warrior. I'd like to have a word with your father," Frieza said.

Vegeta stood up and turned around to leave. His father turned to him and gave him a firm stare, which Vegeta returned anxiously. He left seconds later, all too eager to escape Frieza's presence before he vomited all over the floor. The smoldering heat of his planet outside of the spaceship was a welcome respite. With nobody around to hear him, he spoke aloud what was wired to his mind.

"Some day, I'll kill that guy!"

Yes, his goal - the only reason he put up with the day-to-day nonsense that was his life. His first encounter with Frieza hadn't ended in violence as it did Gohan, but that was soon to come. Vegeta's smart mouth made him the only soldier who could get Frieza out of his chair. Yet Frieza spoiled him as much as he ridiculed and personally abused him. Frieza's favorite toy - that's what Vegeta saw himself and the Saiyans as. Anybody else mouthed off like he always did, and forget a punishment - Frieza would have simply let Zarbon and Dodoria vaporize them. But the lizard always stopped short of killing Vegeta.

Some days, he wished Frieza would just go ahead and do it.

But he knew his goal would come one day. He just had to continue working within the system, increasing his power level little by little, and enduring whatever hardships he experienced. Dominion of the universe was an occupation for him and him only.

Vegeta turned to look at Gohan, who appeared only minutes from implosion.

"Get some sleep, kid."

It was advice, though he spoke it like an order. It finally snapped Gohan out of his haze, as he eyed Vegeta curiously. He'd expected another callous scolding. But though he felt the slightest bit comforted by the surprise contrition on his prince's part, he couldn't heed his words. If he could sleep, he would have.

A few moments later, he heard a snore escape Vegeta's breath. Indeed, he was asleep, and it was then that Gohan left the room. He was too wound up to stand even sitting any longer; he had to get himself moving even if he didn't know where. He aimlessly marched down the halls at a brisk pace. His stroll took him to parts of the base that he'd never been to, though they were largely the same as the areas he dwelled. More medical rooms, more training facilities, things of that nature.

Just as he was about to turn around, however, his ears caught a loud buzzing noise coming from his left. It sounded like a mix of sparks and metal. Intrigued, he headed down that direction and found the doorway to a vast hall filled with space pods and shelves holding all types of gadgets. People of various shapes and sizes hustled back and forth, working tirelessly on building and repairing the array of space pods that powered the Planet Trade.

Despite all of the trauma and despair that Gohan had been stricken with, the faintest smile curled his lip upward.

Now this was more like it!

Few if anyone even passingly acknowledged Gohan's presence when he stepped inside, too deep in their work to care about a Saiyan child. Of all the subjects Gohan studied back home, science was by far the coolest, and it was all on display. The one upside to this environment was that it gave him an up-close view of interstellar travel and its wondrous machinations.

He wandered around, observing the men applying blowtorches, hammers, and padding to the many ships; the ones tinkering with scouters or intercoms. He stopped in front of one spaceship that was being attended to. Two people worked on it - one, a skinny orange man in a hat, and the other...a woman? She appeared to have been from the same race as Zarbon - identical blue skin and lush, green hair. Though Zarbon was androgynous enough, this one was more overtly female, with a slender and curvaceous frame and blue lipstick. He hadn't seen any women in the army thus far.

The two were in the middle of a discussion when they noticed Gohan hovering over them.

"Ya lost, kid?" asked the orange man.

"Oh, sorry," Gohan said. Surprisingly, the man didn't have any hostility in his voice.

Gohan was about to turn away until the woman spoke. "A tail? Ah, you must be the new Saiyan kid they were talking about."

"Um, yeah." Gohan had to admit - it was refreshing to hear "Saiyan" spoken without a monkey comment thrown in.

"Heh, didn't think I'd see one of you battle maniacs actually interested in this joint," the orange man said. "Must be from another planet. Ya got a name?"

"Son Gohan."

"Gohan, eh? Doesn't sound like any vegetable I know," the man said with a laugh that eased Gohan quite a bit. "Well I'm Lemo."

"Name's Kiyomi, and before you ask - yes, I'm from Zarbon's race, and yes, he's a jackass who sold out our people," the woman said with a coy smile. Even if her scouter weren't bugged, she wouldn't have cared if he heard it.

What? For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Gohan felt at ease. His impression of the organization thus far was of one infested with violent, foul-tempered miscreants. Even the medics were apathetic. But these two actually seemed...pleasant?

Giving into his comfort, Gohan asked, "What are you guys doing?"

The two technicians both raised curious eyebrows. "You must be, like, a hybrid Saiyan or something" Lemo remarked. "Well, anyway, we're trying to fix this ship's signal."

"One thing you'll learn around here - Frieza is cheap," Kiyomi said, spitting out a wad of gum. "'Technical difficulties' is this army's catchphrase."

"Ain't that the truth," Lemo said, tinkering with a miniature device. Its backside had been snapped open, leaving only the circuit board. "The tracking device on this ship is all screwed up. With no signal nobody would be able to find this thing."

Huh.

Faulty tracking device. No signal. Gohan's mind slowly processed the words and their meaning. Within the darkness that clouded his mind, a flicker of light creeped its way to its end.

Before he could dive any deeper, however, the device was suddenly right in his face. Luckily, he had enough presence of mind to catch it. He looked back at Lemo, confused.

"You seem like you're into tech," Lemo said. "See if you can figure it out."

Gohan turned the divide around a couple of times. It was a black, with a blank light on the front side. He flipped it back to the panel, where he observed the wires. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with them - nothing snapped, withered, or tangled up. He brought it more closely to his eye for deeper examination. He zeroed in on one of the black chips, struck by a peculiar sight. It was slight, but he noticed one of the many metal prongs holding the chip in place hung about a centimeter off the board.

"Wait, I got it," Gohan said, lightly pressing his finger on the prong until he heard a click.

"Holy shit," Lemo said as Gohan handed the board back to him. "I wouldn't have caught that in a million years. Some eyesight, huh?"

"Nice work, kid. You lose a fight or two, maybe they'll send you here instead," Kiyomi sarcastically remarked.

I wish, Gohan thought. However, it wasn't just that he knew feigning weakness would get him killed in an instant. Locked up in the corridors of his mind was what should have been an obvious answer regarding the easiest way to get to Frieza. He didn't like it.

Gohan watched as Lemo pressed a button. Confirming Gohan's solve, it beeped and the light flickered red. "Awesome, it's back up and running!" Lemo said as he inserted the device into a part of the ship's outer surface that had been popped open. What Gohan didn't see was Kiyomi's brief annoyed glare at Lemo.

"Thanks, Gohan," Lemo said. "Maybe you can get a few more soldiers to actually give a shit about the gadgets around here. Would get a load off our backs, that's for sure."

"No problem," Gohan said, nodding respectfully. "And uh, thanks for not being jerks."

The two technicians laughed. "Don't get used to it," Kiyomi said. "Take care, kid."

Gohan left the room with his head down, deep in thought. A moment later, Kiyomi slapped Lemo upside the head.

"Hey, what was that for?!" Lemo winced, rubbing the area just below where his hat ended. Though she was a tech geek, Kiyomi still packed a wallop.

"You know you let the boy see where the tracking device goes, right?" Kiyomi said.

Lemo stopped rubbing his head and gasped. "Aw, shit." He shrugged, however. "Eh, he didn't strike me as the boldest kid. I think we're okay."

"Well, he's still a Saiyan…" Kiyomi replied with a smirk.

Kiyomi was right to admonish Lemo. The wheels started spinning in Gohan's head as he stood in the hallway. A ship without tracking? A ship that could take him off the grid and effectively leave him free to go anywhere he wanted - such as, say...Earth? Gohan's heartbeat eagerly quickened its pace. He found himself feverishly walking off the new well of energy.

However, his anticipation quieted when he realized one crucial problem: he didn't know any coordinates.

Gohan wasn't ready to part ways with his pipe dream, however. He looked out of one of the many windows to get a gauge of his location. Almost directly across from the window stood the launch platform for the ships. He looked a few feet away from the left and saw the building opposite of the entrance - perhaps his answer lay there.

With a brisk pace, Gohan left and with the aid of windows and context clues, walked down the hallway. Save for the technology wing, apparently, he was out and about during sleeping hours, meaning few run-ins with belligerent passerby soldiers.

He finally stopped once he reached a metal door. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge; while he could have easily broken it down, he was in no position to set off any alarms.

"Rats, there goes my best shot," Gohan said out loud, slumping his shoulders as he walked away.

After a few moments, however, he overheard footsteps from behind. When he turned around, two men approached the door he'd just left. One was short and stocky, with red skin covered in spots while the other was a skinny man with orange skin and green hair. Gohan's muscles tensed - thankfully, they didn't notice him. He watched them closely. One man raised his palm to a square device right next to the door, and after an approving buzz, the door opened and the pair walked inside.

And after one swift burst of speed, Gohan followed them.

To Gohan's luck, the room was poorly lit, allowing him to saunter off into a corner as soon as the door closed. Once the sound of their voices drifted far enough away, Gohan looked up at the ceiling. At the top was a chandelier emitting the sole source of dim, violet light. Four poles held it up, which worked exactly in Gohan's favor. The young Saiyan hopped up and hung himself from one pole with his tail to observe the two men.

They stood before a large, hologram screen. The shorter of the two was swiping his hand up and down to scroll through the screen while the other spoke.

"What was that planet Lord Frieza was asking us about again? Parsley, right?" The tall one asked.

"Correct. Hear they've got the best brothel in space," the short one remarked while the other snickered. "But that's beside the point. Now let's see the location."

Gohan leaned in slightly so he could get a closer look. The short soldier spoke back up.

"Isis - coordinates on Planet Parsley?" he asked.

"Planet Parsley, southern region. Coordinates 125NY," answered a feminine artificial voice.

That easy, huh?

As soon as Gohan saw the two turn on their heels, he swung himself up and deftly stood still atop the pole up above. They exited the room, leaving Gohan all alone. He dropped to the floor and stood before the hologram screen. Curiosity got the best of him, and he raised his hand to examine the images on display. He couldn't understand much of the writing; while Raditz had given him a crash course on the basic text, Gohan couldn't go much further than numbers. Which he supposed were the only real things that mattered in this organization, anyway.

Some of the images he scrolled through were beautiful sights of the vast array of planets in Frieza's interest. The universe was rife with fascinating worlds, all going to waste so that this tyrant can spread a violent regime. But it wasn't the time to lament the destruction of life - it was time to put a plan in motion. His limbs numbed in anxious anticipation.

"Uh….Isis?" Gohan asked. "Coordinates for Planet Earth?"

"Planet Earth, northern region," the voice replied. Gohan feverishly looked over his shoulder, desperately hoping nobody would barge in. "Coordinates 1984AT."

"Yes!" Gohan shouted, though he quickly covered his mouth.

1984AT.

1984AT.

1984AT.

They were like lottery numbers. He kept repeating them in his head - the ticket to his escape. He looked around and found an open door to his right. He scurried inside, entering a room lined up with space pods. He was almost jumping up and down with excitement while a smile spread across his face. He reached his hand out…

...but realized this was a little too easy.

A base like this with unattended pods? In all likelihood, launching one away would set off alarms. His pod may have been shot down before it even left the atmosphere

Fortunately, the room led to open air up above. Gohan decided to fly outside and return to the front entrance. As he made his way back to the sleeping quarters, he decided on his plan - break away during their next assignment.

Mommy, daddy, I'm coming home! Gohan said to himself when he entered the room. The elder Saiyans were still asleep, fortunately. Gohan sat down, too relieved to join them.

Many hours later, Vegeta had reawakened. To his astonishment, Gohan was still awake and guarded in his disposition. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Guess you didn't listen," Vegeta said. Gohan didn't answer.

"Yeah, he's been like that since I woke up, too," Raditz observed. He and Nappa were stretching.

Nappa, out of his own curiosity, decided to inspect the boy's power level. As the orange numbers ran along the bottom of the screen, the bald, burly Saiyan warrior's jaw sank.

"Holy hell…" Nappa choked out.

Vegeta raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What is it?"

"The boy's power level is at…3,000!" Nappa stammered.

"Three thousand? That's unbelievable…!" Raditz exclaimed. "You're not too far off from Nappa, now!"

Gohan didn't acknowledge them. In a few moments, none of it would matter. No more power levels, no more killing, no more being bossed around - only his home planet and his parents' loving arms.

Vegeta, meanwhile, just shook his head in disbelief. He came from Raditz's low-class bloodline but sat on an unfathomable well of potential. When Vegeta first noticed Gohan's strength, he'd briefly pondered breeding with Earthlings but quickly shoved it aside for this very reason - a few more years of training and the half-breed would be stronger than him.

Vegeta couldn't help but sweat at the thought.

He reasoned to himself that the boy was still meek and loyal, but the simple idea of Gohan becoming strong enough to act on the thought of betrayal was all too unnerving.

Should he just kill the kid right now, while he was still weaker, to prevent it from happening?

No.

That was the coward's way out.

If the time ever came that Gohan got too strong and let the power go to his head, he would become an obstacle. And like every obstacle Vegeta had ever faced in his life, he would overcome him and come out stronger than ever.

Forget sweating - now Vegeta salivated the thought. Besides Cui, Zarbon, Dodoria, and the Ginyu Force, nobody even approached his level. Now that a warrior, a Saiyan, had finally come, it made the Saiyan Prince's blood flare up with anticipation. Competition was always a joy. Besides, the more powerful warriors he had on his side when he finally decided to revolt, the better.

Though Gohan hadn't been acknowledging their conversation, it crept its way into his pleasant thoughts. He couldn't help but stare at his palms with intrigue. Am I really that strong…?

For a brief moment, Gohan smirked like a typical Saiyan would. Just as quickly though, he frowned in shame. That wasn't going to be important in a few moments, right?

"Anyway," Vegeta said, shaking his head, "Let's get to Frieza. We have to be briefed on our next assignment."

"I sure hope the planet we go to is as good as Trident!" Nappa said.

The four Saiyans headed for Frieza's throne room. As soon as he stepped in, Gohan felt his rage towards Frieza bubble up. Gohan took a deep breath - this was all going to be over soon. Getting too caught up in his emotions could snatch his opportunity away. But just being in the same room as him now made his stomach churn.

Zarbon snickered as Gohan entered. The half-breed snarled in response, as he was at least able to disrespect Zarbon without serious consequence. He took comfort in the fact that even one of his own kind reviled him. The Saiyans all got down on one knee.

Frieza made his typical slow rotation forward. Gohan was almost certain he did that only for theatrics. "Ah, I'm so glad to see my favorite subjects back here."

Gohan held back a growl; his soon-to-be former master's voice never ceased to churn his stomach. However, Frieza could tell how much Gohan struggled to contain himself, and that only made the game more fun

"Gohan, it's been too long!" Frieza greeted in his insincere drawl. "Nice to see that you have recovered…"

Gohan swallowed deeply in his throat and locked his eyes to the floor.

"I hope you do not take my actions from three days ago personally, boy. You see, I am simply trying to instill values in you, and that occasionally requires a little tough love," Frieza said with an irritating snicker. "What's an army without discipline, after all? Hopefully, your assuredly hideous new scars will serve as a reminder of the consequences of a sharp tongue."

Gohan just remembered his impending escape and stood firm. All he needed to do was keep Frieza out of his head.

Frieza broke the tension with his insidious laughter. "Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, allow me to inform you of your latest assignment, men. There is a planet in the southwest sector called Planet Kithra that is quite the doozy. It is a warrior race rife with strong opponents," Frieza paused to survey the reactions of the Saiyans, quickly ascertaining their growing anticipation. He grinned.

"However, that planet is none of your concern. I have sent the Ginyu Force there. It's sadly above your pay grade." Frieza gleefully watched their hopes for another fierce battle fizzle. "You see, Planet Kithra is very lucrative, and I don't want to have any planets near it; they are all useless eyesores. Your job is to destroy Planet Tajine. Its coordinates are 4650VW. It is a weak, pathetic, frontier planet." He spoke deliberately, making sure to twist the proverbial knife.

"So, accounting for the logistics, it should only take about two days at the most. Your assignment is to begin immediately. Do not disappoint me, Saiyans!"

"Yes, Lord Frieza," Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz said in unison. Frieza cocked his head to the side at Gohan's silence, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt since he was still new to things.

"You four are dismissed. Your ships have already been programmed with the location and landing instructions," Frieza said.

The Saiyans left, and as soon as they were outdoors Nappa let out his frustration with a growl. "Dammit, I should've known he'd give us a piece of shit planet."

"Just keep your cool, we'll find something soon enough," Vegeta said, though he was mostly trying to convince himself.

They might as well have been speaking another language to Gohan, who had his eyes locked onto his space pod. He took his steps - with each one a megaton weight flung away. Closer and closer to salvation. Though he didn't realize, Vegeta noticed the eagerness in Gohan's footsteps and found it suspect; he definitely hadn't come around to this job yet.

Gohan nearly jumped into his pod and closed it as quickly as he possibly could.

'YES!" he screamed, pumping his fists. He couldn't stop happy tears from leaving his eyes while he reached his hand out to the right. Gingerly, he used his ki to melt a hole into the ship's leather interior, and then narrowed his eyes until he found the device Lemo had shown him hours before. There it was - the blinking red light of the tacking device! But first, Gohan had to make his escape discreet. He followed the pre-programmed location spoken by the automated voice:

"Destination: Planet Tajine, coordinates 4650VW"

The pod blasted off. Once the planet was out of sight, Gohan destroyed the tracker with a small beam from his finger-tips, laughing giddily as he did so. Then, he pressed a button to communicate with the space pod AI.

"Change landing coordinates to Planet 1984AT!" Gohan shouted.

"Rerouting confirmed."

"I'M FREE!" Gohan shouted.

Just saying it was refreshing. He was free. Free to leave that horrific organization and the grip of Frieza. Free of the savage Saiyan bullies, though they admittedly had his best interest in mind. Free to finally return home, to his mom, his dad, and the nice friends at the island. Free…

...to make all of them targets.

Gohan's smile vanished.

How could he have been so short-sighted?

That was the feeling he'd gotten when he reached the launch room. It was too easy - but not solely because his escape there would have been thwarted. But because of the end result if he succeeded.

As soon as the other Saiyans landed, they would think he'd deserted. Tracking or no tracking, Earth was the first place they'd look. His plan led to complete and total annihilation, not salvation.

Gohan buried his head in his hands and cried as loud as he could. He'd been a fool to deny the reality - he truly was trapped. He couldn't escape the Saiyans or Frieza without his home and everything he loved being destroyed.

Dejectedly, he pressed the control panel's communicator again.

"R-Reroute me to Planet 4560 VW," he said, his voice trembling.

"Rerouting confirmed." The pod made a sharp left turn.

Gohan was so distraught, he'd misspoken Planet Tajine's coordinates without even realizing.

Chapter Text

"I should be asking you the same thing, brat."

That was Vegeta's response to a weary Gohan over the scouter after being asked where he, Raditz, and Nappa were. While Gohan certainly detected a few noteworthy power levels on the planet he'd landed on moments earlier, he couldn't detect any at Vegeta's level. That made him very concerned.

He scanned the eerie, desolate environment he stood in. "Well, I'm on a planet with a really dark, blue sky-"

"Son of a bitch-" Vegeta interrupted. His interjection alone left no need for Gohan to hear him further. "Just go back to Frieza's base, then. We'll probably be done by the time you'd get here."

Gohan breathed a sigh of relief. The pent-up aggression Frieza filled him with had boiled over, so he could avoid violence for the time being. With a faint smile, he replied, "Yeah, o-"

Why did Gohan's shin suddenly feel like a knife had just been driven into it? The boy crunched his teeth down on top of each other to hold off the jolt of pain shooting from his leg to the rest of his body, and looked down.

Oh, because that's exactly what happened.

Mortified by the sight of his blood pouring from his shin, he turned around to face the culprit, tuned out from Vegeta's commands over his scouter. His vision blurred, but in front of him stood two...three...four diminutive men with purple skin and disheveled clothes. They looked and dressed like humans - well, if humans had pointy ears and green hair. They all laughed at him, showing their small but prominent fangs.

One of them opened their mouths, and noise came out as his lips flapped, but Gohan couldn't understand a single word.

Okay, so his one lucid thought was that it made a lot more sense to find some aliens who for once didn't somehow speak the same language he did on a planet light years away.

But mostly, Gohan was terrified, dazed and confused, especially as they advanced towards him. Thinking quickly, he pulled the knife out of his leg as they made their charge - a horrible idea, as his agonized yelp confirmed. It left an opening for the foreign alien in the middle sporting crew-cut hair to punch the scouter right off of his face. Gohan fell down on his backside and tried to reach out to the scouter, the one link to his cavalry, but one of the alien thugs snatched it up. He had spiky, shoulder length hair not unlike Gohan's and smirked, mockingly bouncing the scouter up and down in his palm.

The bald man of the foursome yelled at him in his unknown language, and the long-haired one tossed the scouter at him. The bald one caught it and tossed it at the thug with a bushy set of hair that Gohan found too similar to Mentos'. They were playing a rowdy game of catch, pointing and laughing at the writhing half-Saiyan in between throws.

Gohan didn't know what upset him more - how badly he was beaten, or the fact that he couldn't understand a word they were saying.

The long-haired initial thief of the scouter caught it and stalked towards Gohan. Stretching his arms out, he presented it to Gohan in his palm like he was making an offer. Gohan didn't dare reach out, however, sneering hatefully at him instead. The thug simply laughed, dropped his scouter into the mud, and stepped on it, crushing it to pieces.

Incensed, Gohan stumbled to his feet, but before he could attack, the bald thug jumped into the sky and raised his arm. It glowed with Ki, setting Gohan on guard. The purple alien flung it out of his hands - but not at Gohan.

Instead, he blasted the space pod lying in the crater behind Gohan.

He didn't blow it to bits, but he got a good chunk out of it.

Gohan looked over his shoulder in horror at the smokey remains of his vessel, his one escape from this horror show of a planet. Shock gave way to rage, however - the type of fury the older Saiyans tried to harness in training. Ignoring the stinging feeling in his leg, he rocketed towards the four thugs and punched the jaw of the bald man who trashed his ship. But while he flew dozens of feet away, the others laughed and pounced on Gohan with their numbers advantage.

A funny thing happened through their various strikes and kicks, however. While they certainly hurt, every passing blow only made Gohan angrier. Call it bruised pride or scorn over his lost devices; but by the time the three took to stomping Gohan out with their steel-toed boots, the Saiyan emitted a bright glow. He released the fire of his spirit with a burst of Ki that blasted all of them away.

His body almost moving on its own, Gohan exploded forward and kicked the long-haired thug's neck out of place. The bushy-haired one managed to sneak behind Gohan and snatch his arm, while the crew-cut one stampeded him with his blade. Before he could even reach Gohan, however, a force of Ki sent him backwards. Gohan slammed his elbow into the bushy-hair's face and knocked the sword out of crew-cut's hand. To get him out of the picture, Gohan fired a fierce Ki blast that sent him off miles away.

One more remained, though - the bald guy that destroyed his ship. Though loopy, he rose back up; but before he could stand upright, Gohan knocked him right back down. Behaving more like a savage full-blooded Saiyan, Gohan stomped the air out of his chest and used his fists to unleash all of his frustration out on his face. His nose cracked, his jaw snapped, and Gohan could feel his cheeks crunching beneath his gloved hands - but he kept going.

A speck of the alien's blood splashed onto Gohan's cheek - snapping him out of his haze. His eyes flickered at the mangled remains of the thug's face; he stepped away so quickly he fell onto the dirt. He panted heavily, his heart almost thumping out of his chest. When he surveyed the damage, he gasped in shock.

I did all this?

He looked down on his gloves - they were painted in blood. He whipped them off of his hands like toxic hazards.

He'd blacked out again, so he couldn't properly articulate what it felt like killing them, but the aftermath told the clear tale of his actions. It didn't matter how much he resisted, how much he clung to his values from back home - he really was capable of the Saiyans' brutality.

But he was just defending himself, right?

Gohan stuck with that justification for the time being, as there was a more pertinent matter - the gaping wound in the back of his leg. The adrenaline long gone, the pain returned with a vengeance. He tried standing back again, but stumbled right back down - not only was he hurting, but the blood loss was dazing him out. Thinking quickly, Gohan tore off the entire right sleeve of his body suit and tied it into a tight knot around his shin. It sapped the blood flow, at least.

Finally, Gohan stood back on his feet, though walking felt like dragging an anchor. Flying clearly made more sense, so he took to the air. After losing so much blood, his body demanded water. He scanned the grimy soil below him, seeking either civilization or a river. Weariness clouded his thoughts as he searched. There was a legitimate possibility of being stranded on the planet - his space pod was gone, his scouter was gone, so how could anybody from Frieza's organization get in touch?

Some life, huh?

Before his thoughts could get any dimmer, however, Gohan found that which he sought - not just water, but a jungle. With a faint smile, Gohan descended into the grove of obsidian-leaved trees and vegetation. The instant his feet hit the ground, however, he saw a sharp object race to his face. By just a hair's breadth, he swung his head out of the way and looked over his shoulder - an arrow, stuck into a tree.

Sloppily turning his head around distracted him from the real problem, though, and that came barreling at him with a knee to his stomach. Gohan doubled over could make out the attacker - another smickering, purple-skinned ruffian dressed in rags. What was with this planet? The guy tried to kick Gohan in the face whilst he kneeled to follow up, but the half-Saiyan grabbed his foot and used it as leverage to slam head-first into his chin. While the alien stumbled back, Gohan clutched his stomach but assumed a fighting stance nonetheless.

The alien miscreant shook Gohan's counterattack off and dove for him again. Antsily, Gohan evaded his rapid foray of attacks, but his lack of fighting experience pervaded. More than that, though, he was just rattled. All he could do was guard - deja vu from his training sessions with Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz. Life-or-death was a far-cry from practice.

Realizing that he couldn't just depend on another rage-induced blackout, Gohan lunged his fist forward but was slow on the draw. Making matters worse, he teetered over and let the tenacious alien kick him into the same tree where his errant arrow stood. The rag-clad alien spat indecipherale taunts from a squeaky voice, drawing a growl from Gohan.

"I can't understand you, so just shut up!" Gohan's peevish tone alone was all the man needed to swing his head back and cackle harder.

Oh wait, I got him! Gohan realized. Quickly, he swung his arm up and stuffed the bothersome laughter back into his face with a Ki blast . Gohan briefly laughed to himself - how could he forget his most convenient weapon?

The victory was fleeting, however, because the purple man ignored his face's shearing flesh and continued attacking. Gohan thwarted him with another blast, but he arose as quickly as he fell. The alien leaped up and dropkicked Gohan so hard, he crashed through that tree and several others behind it before he skidded on the grass, stopping just short of the riverbank he craved. Just being near the water aroused Gohan's thirst, and he grew too fixated. The alien fighter dove out from the jungle and tried punching down at him while he lay. Gohan rolled out of the way, and a second later he did it again in the opposite direction.

With every passing second, Gohan grew more comfortable in combat. He curled his legs back and slammed both feet into the man's sternum before he could attack again, then sprung back up. Mimicking a move he'd seen Vegeta do during training, Gohan reached back with both arms and focused his Ki into his hands. He released it all in a bright wave that blasted the man far away from the field with its immense power, freeing Gohan of his presence at last.

Not letting a single moment go to waste, Gohan swung back around and stuck his head into the water. Not the most efficient way of quenching his thirst, but it was a massive relief. Gohan sat down and gasped for air, hoping that was the last of his danger for the time being. He thought about the fight, and how he finished it - a Ki blast.

Just like Mentos.

Gohan cut himself off. This was different. This guy was trying to kill him - he had to blast him to save himself. Then again, he killed Mentos to save himself from the danger Vegeta posed. And strung him along beforehand.

His hands were already tainted.

Declining to further punish himself, Gohan walked away from the river and into the sea of trees and plant-life. He'd seen plenty plants in his short life, but none of them were ever black. And nobody presently after his life, he could take in their striking smell that reminded him of cologne from back home. There was a flower hidden deep within the bushes that stood out however - a purple-stemmed needle in the black haystack. But that wasn't the most eye-catching part - that distinction belonged to its brilliant golden petal.

Captivated by its smell and its gleam, Gohan yanked it from its root and tucked it under the chestplate of his armor - if he was going to be stuck on the planet, he might as well have gotten hold of something valuable. Inhaling the unknown planet's air, Gohan sat down and let himself enjoy a moment of peace in his neverending tailspin.

It reminded him of back home. Goku had taken him out on plenty of trips in the forest that shrouded their home. Even then, Gohan was like he was now - fearful, nervous, but also curious. He dreaded the wild, unpredictable animals and couldn't comprehend how his dad remained so calm with them, even treating them like pals. He recalled a time he scraped his knee - he was a crying mess, but Goku used some of the natural environment to soothe the pain. There was a valuable lesson to be learned from there - to not fear his environment, and let it help him.

Gohan snickered bitterly - what a time when a knee scrape was the most excruciating pain he'd undergone. But whether he would be stuck on this planet, or back in Frieza's army, he would have to heed his father's lesson. Because, it seemed, he was never returning to Earth's safety net. He'd have to adapt and embrace his new setting - and on this planet, and on Frieza's planet, he had only one real option.

Above all else, Gohan wanted to survive. He needed to survive.

And he could never allow the trauma Frieza dealt him to ever happen again.

A few minutes passed without incident. Though Gohan welcomed the rest, the two ambushes made it clear what trouble awaited Gohan in every corner of this treacherous planet. Without his scouter, however, he could never see anybody coming that wasn't in front of his face. But he couldn't have been this helpless, right?

Gohan thought back to his dad. Evidently, he'd been stronger than him for a long time yet couldn't hold a candle to his fighting expertise. There was never a moment where Goku wasn't aware of his surroundings. He could "see" every movement from a person or animal even with his back turned. And he could feel their Ki.

Gohan already had a leg up on the Saiyans - sure, they controlled their Ki too, but without any grasp of the concept. They operated purely on brute force. On the other hand, Gohan knew exactly where his power came from. If his dad could sense what went on around him, so could he.

Taking a deep breath, Gohan leaned back against a tree while he pondered his father. Nobody took things easier than Goku. He was so carefree and even-keeled, yet had eyes in the back of his head at the same time - and perhaps that was the correlation. The lack of any doubt or worry within himself let him see everything else.

It was a self-assurance Gohan lacked.

But of course he did - how could he not? He was in a world he didn't belong, subjected to unfathomable abuse in a matter of weeks, and now forced to grow up and act against his nature. Up until Raditz came in the picture, Gohan thought he knew who he was, and liked that picture. Now, he couldn't even walk without anxiety clouding his every step.

He took his deepest breath of the day. Eliminating the mountain of questions his conscience piled on him was a longshot, but he could at least try to aim his thoughts elsewhere. Take things in moment by moment. Focus on every breath he inhaled and exhaled. The distinct aroma that entered his nostrils. The occasional gust of wind that blew into his face - how it felt, how it sounded, how it smelled. The splashing of water from the river. The occasional chirp of a bird. The occasional squeak of a critter.

Just focus on what was there. Not what should have been, not what could have been, but just what was.

A small squirrel with striped, green and red fur crawled to Gohan's right and grabbed an acorn nearby. It chomped down on the acorn and looked up at Gohan. Gohan knew exactly what it had done.

And his eyes were closed the entire time. Must have been the smell and the vibrations its movement created.

The branch above him waved up and down against the wind. A bird flew from a tree and into the sky. And Gohan could feel it all happening.

He could use his basic five senses to focus on what was around him, but now he had to worry about his Ki. It was the source of his and everyone else's special powers. His spirit - everyone had it. It was innate in all of his or anyone else's actions. If he could focus on his own Ki and have a clear sense of where to locate it within himself, he could do it with every other living thing, too.

Continuing to focus only on the physical present, Gohan zeroed in on his own Ki, committing the feeling to memory. He could feel his sense of his own presence growing with every second.

As soon as he felt a pang of comfort however, a more disturbing presence intruded his senses and snapped his eyes open. A second later, another of the planet's seemingly endless reserve of goons dropped down in front of him. This one had a distinct, lime-green mohawk that made him look like a punk rocker. He was the presence Gohan sensed.

Gohan leapt to his feet - to his surprise, the purple grunt reached directly for the rose tucked in his armor. When Gohan moved out of the way, he tried to strike. He swiped his claws at Gohan's face but missed, so he instead leaped and propped himself up against a tree that stood behind Gohan. Gohan stayed put, but just let the alien dive down and wrench his fists into his shoulder.

Crap! Gohan thought. He didn't turn around because he thought he could sense his movement. As he should have figured - it was one thing to calmly sense his surroundings while inactive, but another thing entirely to do it in the rigors of combat. He had to gain more confidence in his power.

His Ki sense on the other hand - once he grasped that, it came to him as common as his sense of smell, sight, taste, touch and hearing. But it was overwhelming; he sensed too much, and it plagued his mind.

It was hard for Gohan to clear his thoughts with the crazed mohawked alien barreling at him with his claws out. Though he managed to jump out of the way, he wasn't unscathed - he felt the slightest knick on his cheek. The purple goon swept Gohan's legs out from under him to take him down and made another move for the golden rose, but Gohan snatched his hand. He tried to attack with the other one, but Gohan thwarted that, too. To send him away, Gohan used his head again - literally, smacking it into the alien's forehead hard enough to cut himself open.

Though his alien opponent landed on his feet, he was clearly dizzy. Gohan capitalized with a flurry of energy blasts; though the fighter tried to block them with his forearms, the rain of blasts quickly overwhelmed him. Against his better nature, Gohan smirked - it was a Vegeta tactic, one he commonly employed in training, and it worked. With the blasts' distraction, Gohan attacked, delivering a staggering blow to his gut that knocked him out cold.

As the alien lay face down in the grass, Gohan observed him pensively. He was unconscious, incapable of harming Gohan any further. With the job done, he had no need to go for the kill. Doing the dirty job was one thing, but getting too wrapped up was another.

Gohan wasn't just going to wait for him to get up, however, and flew away.

"I can do this," he said out loud to affirm himself after chanting it in his head. His victories had made it clear that he could fight, and that he could win - if he was going to improve his senses, he needed to go into every battle assured of himself.

The young half-Saiyan soon realized he was too quick to assume himself stranded. There was no reason not to believe that he could find a spaceship; even his own home planet, far removed from Frieza's rule, had them. The language barrier would make it a steep task, but Gohan resolved to find a ship at any cost.

After a few minutes of flying, Gohan felt a swarm of Ki signatures hit him. It was like signals racing to his brain and triggering a benign sensation in his body, growing more present as he moved closer. He looked down and found the source drawing into his sight - a city. It was like one of those dingy towns from Western movies Gohan saw back home, covered with rows of grungy, worn down rectangular buildings fronted by paneled, swinging doors.

The Ki signals felt like a storm cloud hovering above Gohan's brain. If he had to guess, that meant they weren't friendly. Reluctantly, Gohan made his landing and looked around the town. As he expected, he couldn't understand any of the writing on the buildings (though they actually resembled his language on Earth). Communicating with the planet's inhabitants was a long shot, but Gohan figured he ought to at least get some supplies; or really anything that could aid his ship hunt.

He walked through one of the building entryways and immediately gagged at the smell. It was like those beverages his grandfather would drink straight out the bottle; his mother always urged Gohan to stay away from them. With that foul odor, he could rest assured she had nothing to worry about. Groups of aliens crowded the tavern at various tables, and all of them stopped to scrutinise the outsider. They all yelled various foreign phrases at Gohan, who glared in response.

"I don't speak your language, so you guys can stop talking now," Gohan said. It frustrated his young mind to be in the dark of a conversation.

All of the purple folks exchanged looks of confusion, eventually concluding exactly what Gohan had stated. One of them stood up and pointed at Gohan's armor, yelling a single word - "Aubergine!"

Gohan cocked a bemused eyebrow, but realized he was pointing at the gold and purple rose tucked in his armor. Several patrons stood up in intrigue, leaning in towards Gohan to get a closer look. A bead of sweat trailed down Gohan's head, as he could almost read their minds.

One rotund purple thug dove at Gohan to break the silence, but another man jumped at him and elbowed him in the face to cut him off. It was a competition, it seemed - and soon, dozens of warriors stampeded Gohan, both running and fighting amongst themselves.

Rather than retreat, Gohan glared dauntlessly and squared his shoulders for battle. He took the onslaught head-on, dodging the incoming attacks with the aid of his senses. He released a burst of Ki to disperse all the rose-coveting aliens and used his fists to drive one of them into a wall, nearly caving it in. But while his back was turned, he now knew what attacks were coming his way - one approached him with a broken bottle, another with a chair, and another with a knife. Gohan effortlessly evaded each of their attacks.

However, numbers weren't on Gohan's side; for while he dodged the attacks from behind, the ones to left and right landed stiff blows on him. Gohan flung back-first into a framed picture on the opposite wall that shattered, letting glass spill all over his body. The shards punctured through his clothes, dealing the worst damage to his exposed right arm. And his problems were about to get worse.

One of the men zipped in front of Gohan and slashed a blade right across his left eye. Gohan let out a scream so loud, his voice cracked, and he squeezed both hands over his eye to stop the outpouring of blood. As he agonized, he left himself open for several men to ram him through the wall and send him outside.

All the commotion caught the attention of the ones inside nearby buildings, soon multiplying Gohan's disadvantage. Before he could even lift himself off the ground, a Ki blast came his way. Though he dodged it, he could hardly fight the storm of attacks that he could see but couldn't dodge fast enough - especially with his eye in the shape it was. The army of aliens attacked both themselves and Gohan, many of them reaching for his evidently valuable golden rose. With his back to the ground, Gohan managed to kick a few away to create an opening for a skyward escape.

First on Gohan's agenda, catching his breath. The pain hit him in waves, his flight both for strategy and relief. He shut his left eye, with what little he could actually see obscured by blood. His earlier wound from the sword still bothered his leg, and all of the glass and wood chips sure as hell didn't help. Several men flew up after him and Gohan valiantly fought them off, applying lethal force when necessary. Fight-or-flight overwrote his morality, as his will to survive on a desolate planet powered his every attack.

One of the warriors was savvy - and savage - enough to dig his claws into Gohan's heel as he grabbed him by the foot and pulled him down. It elicited a shriek of agony from Gohan, though he gnashed his teeth to block the pain and focused his Ki to his palms even as one ruffian pulled him down and another one yanked his hair. Unleashing a scream along with it, Gohan launched an immense Ki blast down below, leveling many of the aliens. Then he ripped out the claws excruciatingly pierced into his foot, ignoring the acute pain it brought. He thrust the alien to which it belonged towards himself and impaled him with his knee. And then he simply whipped his head to get the other guy out of his hair - figuratively and literally.

Fed up with the nonsense, Gohan gave into his savage Sayan impulses and rained down a radiant shower of Ki blasts, opting to just lay waste to the bothersome pests. One by one, they fell, never to get up again. Gohan didn't stop until he saw not a single body moving.

Once he finished, Gohan panted heavily and looked around just to verify 100% success. All of the Ki signatures had faded away, at least. He'd done a number not just on the men, but the surrounding architecture. Many buildings were leveled, toppled over or outright destroyed.

Gohan wiped sweat off of his forehead and sighed. He hung in the air momentarily, reflecting on the outburst. It pained him to his core to admit to himself, but…

He enjoyed it. Just a little bit. As it turned out, finally wielding power beat the hell out of being a victim.

Giving himself no time to revel in sadistic thoughts, Gohan lowered himself back down and walked into the bar where his battle began. Luckily, it had largely been spared from his onslaught; the tables with their plates of food and half-empty bottles were intact. Exhausted and aching, Gohan's body craved food. He looked down at one of the left-behind plates and cringed. It held a mushy, green substance, seasoned with black peppers. Not exactly in a position to be picky, however, Gohan scooped up a gooey piece and took a bite - and then, fought off his gag reflex.

Gohan wasn't sure what a foot fungus tasted like, but if he had to guess, it was in the neighborhood of that "dish."

However, food was food, so he at least swallowed it before moving away from the table. He found another plate with a slab of meat that resembled a pork chop along with a dark brown biscuit. He decided to eat the biscuit and well...it was a biscuit. Not particularly tasty, and not particularly rotten. Soon, Gohan cleared all of the plates in the room - despite the general lousiness, he hadn't had an adequate meal since arriving in Frieza's organization. He remembered what Vegeta and Nappa told him, about Frieza making sure the Saiyans didn't get all of the calories they needed; that was a matter he sought to fix if he ever got back.

Not particularly satisfied, but at least full, Gohan left the tavern. He looked high up into the dark sky amongst the piles of corpses he'd left. He didn't admire his work, but on a planet that seemed to be filled only with greedy thugs, he'd done what was necessary. Finding a spaceship was his top priority, and he'd need to pull it off without fail - however long it took.

And no matter how many bodies had to drop.

The planet's sky was a brighter shade of blue - duller and paler than Earth's, but a welcome change from the night skies. Gohan marched down a trail in tattered armor and a torn-up body suit - both of his sleeves were gone by then, baring his bruised, scratched up arms. One arm held a piece of paper while the other held a can of beans which he frequently ate from. His left eye was still shut, and the wound left him a scar across his eyelid that stopped short of his nose.

How many days had it been? He'd counted at least fifteen risings of the sun, and those were just the ones he hadn't slept through. The sun rotations were at intervals he wasn't used to, however - about 36 hours, by his count. Adding all that up, he'd been on that planet a bit longer than a couple of weeks.

The days blended together - he'd go somewhere, he'd get ganged up on. Word had spread around the planet about him and his actions, so he had bounty hunters and warriors actively pursuing him. He still knew nothing about the planet's language - hard to do so when everybody there was trying to kill him. He did know one word, however, and it was used only in regard to what still stood tucked in his armor.

Aubergine - the golden rose.

After his first few hours of traveling, Gohan realized one reason why the flower was so sought after - even removed from soil or water, it remained fresh and lively. It bore a striking color and lasted in any setting.

Gohan often wondered why he kept it in clear view when so many people pursued it, but he realized that just being an outsider made him a target - the aubergine rose just gave their attacks an extra incentive.

How much of the population had Gohan taken out by that point? At least 70%, right?

The violence became customary for Gohan with every swarm - over and over, he reminded himself that he was doing what his power allowed in order to survive. There was no reasoning with them - he doubted he could even if he spoke their language. If they wouldn't stop until his death, his only recourse was bringing death to them.

The constant fighting made Gohan stronger - sharpened his senses, fortified his body, and improved his confidence and coordination. Fighting people after his head and his possessions provided all of the training he needed. He liked the power, and how it felt. If this was what he was stuck doing, he would make the best of it - his mom always told him to give everything his all.

Gohan raised his other hand to look at the piece of paper. It was an article he found earlier in the day about a spaceship, accompanied by two pictures - one was a large rocket launching into the sky, and the other was of a base. The building bore a purple diamond symbol, a symbol Gohan kept his eyes out for.

Gohan stopped walking. He could feel it - a Ki creeping up behind him. Before the man reached him, Gohan dropped his can, swung around and kicked him in the head. It wasn't a fatal strike, but it sent him to the dirt. Gohan was about to strike again until the upper left corner of the man's shirt caught his eye. He squinted to get a closer look and realized it was the same diamond he'd seen in the article. In fact, now he remembered seeing that same shirt worn by a few other brutes who ganged up on him.

No longer seeing him as a threat, Gohan met him back on the ground. When the alien opened his eyes, Gohan showed off the paper in his hands and pointed at the two pictures. The man had no interest in Gohan's efforts, however, and instead pulled a knife from out of his pocket. He thrust it at him, but the young half-Saiyan deftly smacked the blade from his fingers with the same hand holding the paper, and with the other hand punched him in the jaw to send him back down.

Giving him no chance to attack any further, Gohan slammed his foot on his chest, bearing down just enough pressure to hold him still but not deal significant damage. Impatiently, he pointed at the picture again, and then at the symbol on the man's shirt. Unable to think of any better way to physically communicate what he wanted to say, Gohan gave him a thumbs up along with a nod and inquisitive stare. When the man only raised his eyebrow in confusion, Gohan repeated the gesture more fervently. Recognition filled the alien's eyes, and eventually, he nodded.

Gohan relinquished his foot and let the alien get back up. He snarled at Gohan, but knew he was at his mercy. Gohan pointed to the paper and then to the sky, gesturing for him to lead the way to the base. The alien only scoffed, so Gohan raised his hand and ignited an imposing Ki ball in warning. He resented going about things like Vegeta, but it brought results. The alien didn't need to speak Gohan's language to understand the threat, so he nodded in compliance.

The purple alien took off, measuring his speed so Gohan didn't get the wrong idea. The half-Saiyan followed him close on his trail to monitor him. They flew for hours, circling back to many of the places Gohan had struck, allowing him to get a better look at the havoc he wreaked. He couldn't stop the pang of shame that him; self-preservation had brought him to dark places.

They stopped when they finally reached the spot that Gohan sought. Gohan looked back at the piece of paper; the picture was a perfect match to the base. A network of buildings differing in size, the biggest one bearing that distinct diamond symbol. He didn't see a rocket, but perhaps it was hidden inside. The purple man dropped down below and approached the front door of the largest building, pulling out a key from his pocket. With it, he opened the door and led Gohan inside.

Unlike most of what the planet had to offer, the building interior was a brightly-lit, richly designed beacon of technology. There were shelfs laden with gadgets of all kinds in every corner. Gohan followed the man up a long flight of stairs. Every step was tense, as he didn't rule out a betrayal at any moment.

They reached an open doorway, which the alien stepped through first. There was a desk in the middle, and sitting behind it was a large, muscle-bound man with long, green hair, dressed in a purple & gold pinstriped suit. Even while playing with dice on his desk, he exuded danger; yet Gohan couldn't sense any Ki from him. The big guy looked up at the two of them scornfully, before speaking to his comrade. Their conversation was brief, and shortly after, the big guy pointed at the aubergine rose tucked in Gohan's armor.

Gohan looked down at it and pointed, nodding to confirm that was what he wanted. The musclebound alien curtly nodded, so Gohan pulled it out and handed it over - apparently, his payment for the ship. His massive, calloused hand snatched it out of Gohan's grip and brought it close to his eyes for examination. Inhaling the pedal just to confirm it, he smirked in satisfaction. Gohan waited for him to perhaps get up and lead him to the spaceship.

Instead, the alien hit him with a Ki blast that smashed him through two walls until he crashed several stories down to the concrete floor. Gohan coughed hoarsely, cursing his luck and his naivete. So the people of this planet couldn't even honor a bargain, huh?

Hot with rage, Gohan jumped up and glided through the holes he'd left. It seemed the large goon was already expecting an attack, because when Gohan made it to his room, he was immediately kicked in the stomach. The force launched him all the way through several stories of ceilings, each structure crumbling against Gohan's back. By the time the half-Saiyan's ascent mercifully ended, he was outside. Fighting through the pain, Gohan gathered himself to stop from falling.

It appeared that this top level goon could control his power and released it only when attacking. Gohan felt the brunt of his Ki with both hits, and his bones cracked against it. The debonair boss flew out from the building faster than Gohan's eyes could keep up, and wrapped his immense hand around the boy's tiny neck. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, and…

"I know the filth that you come from, brat," he spoke in perfect, though heavily accented, English. He snickered at Gohan's wide-eyed shock. "Yeah, that's right. I've traveled the universe and picked up a few languages."

Unleashing an intense burst of aura, the fluent boss spun around and torpedoed himself and Gohan all the way down to his planet's surface. With his hand still wrenching Gohan's neck, he slammed him into the ground. The sheer momentum shattered the bones in Gohan's back and caved in the ground beneath him.

The big boss dusted his suit off and smirked. "Here's your late welcome to Planet Zuna, boy! You should be honored to die at the hands of Heavy Z himself!"

Heavy Z, as he called himself, bent down and picked Gohan up off the ground by his hair like a vegetable. He picked the rose Gohan had given him from out of his pants pocket and stylishly placed it in the breast pocket of his blazer. "Thanks for the aubergine, by the way. There's only four of these beauties on this planet, and you brought it right to me!"

As a token of his gratitude, Heavy Z released Gohan from his grip by punching him in the face with his imposing fist. He didn't know how he did it, but Gohan somehow landed on both feet even though he could hardly breathe through his nose anymore. He wasn't about to fall to this guy, no matter how strong he was. He fired a fierce Ki blast at Z, but it was swatted away like a volleyball.

It was but a distraction, however, as Gohan flew at him and swung his leg out at his face. To his chagrin, Heavy Z was a step ahead and grabbed his tiny leg with just one hand, squeezing it tight enough to cut off his blood circulation. He swung the boy over his head like a lasso and threw him up high. Defying all physics, Heavy Z curled up into a ball and launched himself at Gohan like a shotput. Gohan was lucky enough to get his forearms up to cushion the ensuing slam - if not, he might have been a wad of gum stuck to Z's back.

Even with Gohan holding still, Heavy Z continued to spin. The friction scorched Gohan's skin and forced him to lower his arms, allowing Z to collide with his forehead and knock him loopy. Gohan couldn't stop his fall that time, smacking into the dirt like a prop. Before he even had a chance to breathe, an immense Ki blast descended upon him. He just barely moved out the way, but the explosive impact lifted him off the ground and sent shockwaves through his body.

"That was just a warning shot!" Heavy Z boasted from up above.

Gohan sneered, not one to tolerate taunts. Just as he was about to mount his assault, however, a sudden force alerted his every sense. An enormous, horrifying Ki appeared out of nowhere, and it wasn't coming from Heavy Z. His blood ran cold; even if he could make it through Z, this new power was unimaginable. Even on its own, it would crush him.

But despite how grim his situation turned, Gohan didn't cower. If this was it, he would fight to the end. He took off to the sky in pursuit of Heavy Z, seemingly launching himself like a cannon. Heavy Z was undeterred, and threw a fierce punch - but then, Gohan's image faded. Stupefied, Heavy Z looked around and suddenly found himself surrounded by several Gohans, all floating in place and scowling at him.

"What the hell kind of trick is this, boy?!"

Heavy Z fired a Ki blast at one of the Gohans, but it disappeared like the other one. Before he could figure out what was going on, the real Gohan drove both of his feet into his spine to send him spiraling downward. Gohan took a moment to laugh - it was the Afterimage technique, a trick his dad pulled many times both to make him laugh and annoy his mother.

"Thanks, dad!" Gohan yelled.

Not wasting another second, Gohan rushed back down at Z but ran into another Ki blast from him. The burly warrior tossed his pinstriped blazer aside and cracked his knuckles.

"Toy with me, will you?"

Gohan groaned as he got back up. Z was seething, his already grisly face contorted in vengeful hatred. Gohan's clever attack removed the proverbial gloves; and to make matters worse, that haunting Ki was drawing closer.

In a flash, Heavy Z plunged his knee into Gohan's body, cracking his armor against its force. Not allowing Gohan to fall, he flung him up by his arm and punched him half-a-dozen times, finishing the assault off with a kick right from the sole of his leather shoe. Gohan hit the ground and stayed there, in no shape to try to stand up.

Sensing his victory, Heavy Z grinned sadistically while curling his arms arms back, preparing the final blow. His hands glowed with a sparking, electric Ki that grew by the second. Gohan could feel the clock of his final seconds ticking, and though he wanted to rise up and contest it, his body moved slower than his brain. His brief life flashed before him, and he couldn't help but lament how everything turned out. Ripped away from his family and killed on a distant planet - that was his story.

"Say goodnight, kid!" Heavy Z shouted. "OMEGA-!"

Before he could fire it, a massive wave of Ki engulfed him and erased his very existence, and destroyed his entire base in a cataclysmic explosion.

Gohan lay there confused while a blinding white light and smoke filled his vision. He thought the harsh, fiery end would be reserved for himself, but instead, Heavy Z was the one going up in smoke. Finally mustering up a bit of power, Gohan sat up while the light faded, hoarsely coughing from both the smoke and his injuries. He turned around, trying to figure out what exactly bailed him out.

Amongst the smoke was a silhouette. Gradually, it made itself more clear. It was a body, standing firm with its arm stuck out. He was slim...and his hair stood up like a flame. When a white gloved hand revealed itself, Gohan's jaw sunk.

"Vegeta?!"

The smoke revealed his superior's full frame. Vegeta's expression was neutral - or at least, as neutral as Vegeta's perpetual scowl ever got. He nonchalantly settled his eyes on Gohan, who now stood on both feet.

"Hn."

Gohan didn't know whether to be thankful, terrified, or both. The Prince of all Saiyans was impossible to read, especially when his default emotion was already perturbed at best. "B-but how?"

Vegeta looked at what was left of that base before focusing back on Gohan.

"You tried to escape, didn't you?"

It was a question, but phrased like a statement. Like a child being scolded by a parent, Gohan sunk his head in shame and braced himself for a swift punishment. "I...I'm sorry."

"Hn. It's like I said before - we're more alike than you think," Vegeta said, to Gohan's surprise. "I didn't have the sense to destroy my scouter when I tried it, either." In his case, Nappa followed him to his planet of choice when he realized he was missing, the dumb son of a bitch.

Gohan looked up at Vegeta, gasping once he realized. Of course - Vegeta tracked his scouter from when he first communicated with him.

"Sure took you long enough," Gohan said before immediately smacking his mouth and bracing himself for a hit. Especially when Vegeta's eyes dangerously narrowed.

Instead, however, Vegeta calmly answered him. "Foolish boy, space travel isn't as fast as you may think. It can occasionally take several weeks, sometimes even months to travel between planets. That's the whole point of the sleeping gas."

Weeks? Months? The first trip to Planet Frieza #79 and the one back from Trident were the only two Gohan had actually stayed awake through, and they were only a few hours. It made him wonder just how long the initial journey from Earth took. Was he even four years old anymore?

Choosing not to dwell on potentially missing his birthday, Gohan focused on other things. "Where's Nappa and Raditz?"

"I had them report back to Frieza ahead of me," Vegeta replied. "Can't have them thinking we deserted; they know those two wouldn't be stupid enough to turn up there without me if I had something planned."

Gohan nodded in understanding while Vegeta looked around the area. "I actually recognized that bastard you were fighting. He still call himself 'Big Z' or whatever?"

"Yeah."

"Hn. He was an old client of Frieza's father from way back," Vegeta explained. That explained why he switched languages when they met, Gohan realized.

Vegeta observed Gohan's tattered body; it told the story all on its own, especially the scar over his left eye. But though Z had him on the ropes, he'd obviously done well for himself to still be standing after several weeks on the planet.

"I see you've done quite a number on this place," Vegeta said. He'd caught the ruins and scattered bodies as he flew towards Gohan and Z's power readings, and was more than pleased with the results. "I thought you said you didn't want to kill anybody?"

Gohan simply stared at the ground, feigning disinterest. He didn't have to be old to realize Vegeta was playing coy.

"Everybody here kept trying to fight me," Gohan said, his tone detached. He shrugged to defend himself. "Kill or be killed, right?"

"Good answer."

"This doesn't change anything," Gohan said, against his better judgment. "I...I still…"

Gohan stopped himself, as he felt like Vegeta's temper was a minefield. The prince merely cocked his eyebrow and stared intensely at the Saiyan child. "Still what, boy?"

"I still don't like you."

Incredulously, Vegeta laughed. That was the best he had? "How childish. You don't need to like me. You don't need to like anybody. All you need is your power."

Vegeta spoke deliberately to ensure Gohan absorbed every word. "You're never much for words. Tell me, boy - why don't you like me?"

Gohan froze, clueless as to what Vegeta was angling for. The older Saiyan didn't strike Gohan as one to care for anybody's opinion; so why was he suddenly interested in his?

"Well?"

Gohan shuddered, giving time for his brain to gather his words. "B-because…"

Against his will, tears left his eyes as he was forced to dwell on his trauma again. They forced him to open his wounded, blood-red eye as well, startling Vegeta. "My mom, my dad, my grandpa…they meant everything to me! They cared about me, and I had so much fun around them…" He squeezed his right fist and slammed it into the sand. "Then Raditz showed up and took me away so all of you guys can push me around! I...I'm just a kid!"

He dug his fist into the ground, choking on his sobs. "I shouldn't be doing all this! I should be in school, not killing people in outer space. Not getting beaten half to death!" The memory of Frieza's punishment returned like it'd just happened, and he punched the ground as hard as he could. "You...you didn't see what Frieza did to me. I had to go through a nightmare, and it's your fault!" Gohan snarled at Vegeta resentfully, not regretting a single word.

"Valid," Vegeta said. In reality, he couldn't have cared less about Gohan's sob story, and almost laughed when he said he didn't see what Frieza had done; as if he hadn't experienced it first hand himself.

"But what's the worst part?"

Gohan wiped off his eyes and blinked at Vegeta in confusion. His expression remained unreadable.

"I...I can't do anything about it!" Gohan finally relented.

Just the answer Vegeta was looking for. "Of course. Just remember this the next time you wallow in your misery - had your father not been weak, you wouldn't be here."

"Take that back!" Gohan shouted. "My dad wasn't weak!"

"You saw it for yourself. Taken out in one hit. And had he actually had the sense to train you, with your raw power alone you would have easily killed Raditz and been free to live your peaceful life back home. You'd never have had to experience any of this."

The weight of Vegeta's words forced Gohan's eyes wide open. He stood back up, giving the prince his full attention. Vegeta smirked, practically seeing the wheels turning in his unseasoned mind.

"Kid, there's only two things you have in this world: your name, and your power." Vegeta's voice was firm and commanding. He didn't take his eyes off the boy for one second. "When you wield the latter, respect will come to the former."

Vegeta pressed the button on his scouter to activate it, and then scanned Gohan's power. "Do you know the number it's reading from you? Five thousand, and that's with you injured. That means that when you talk, Nappa will have no choice but to listen."

Gohan couldn't quite place a word to the feeling Vegeta's words had given him. Having his power and its implications laid out so plainly astounded him. His entire time on Planet Zuna had taught him that his strength could carry him through, and Vegeta reaffirmed it. He laid his palms out, clenching his fingers in and out as he marveled at them.

Vegeta turned his scouter off. "Proud? You should be." That was the word Gohan was looking for. "Savor it, before that bastard Frieza and his asskissers trample all over it."

The mention of his name snapped Gohan out of his triumph. "Frieza," he spat vengefully, his brows furrowing fiercely.

"You already hate him as much as I do, don't you?" Vegeta coolly observed. "I bet you wish every single one of the fools you killed were him instead."

He was right. Frustrated, Gohan clenched his fist and raised it towards his face. "It's just...why do we work for that freak?! How have you guys done it for so long, and why would you recruit me?!"

"What did I just get done explaining to you, boy?" Vegeta asked, his tone that of an exasperated teacher. "Power. His strength goes beyond imagination, even a Saiyan's." Now Vegeta was the one grasping his fist. "But one day…"

Gohan looked up, taken by the fierce determination filling Vegeta's eyes. It started making sense…

"Working for him and conquering planets is the only way we'll be strong enough, but make no mistake. I will defeat that bastard. That's the reason Raditz came to Earth for your father. The more Saiyans on our side, the better."

It hit Gohan. Everything did. Everything he'd been through so far - it wasn't Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz throwing his feet to the fire for their callous amusement. It was a calling, far bigger than him or his father. That was why he was here.

Unconsciously, Gohan's Ki exploded around him, startling even Vegeta. The Saiyan prince almost didn't recognize the molten glare lighting Gohan's countenance. He couldn't find a trace of fear or resentment in his wounded eyes.

"Some day, we'll kill him!" Gohan spat through clenched teeth.

For a brief second, Vegeta flashed back to the day he made the exact declaration himself. He smirked.

"Of course we will."

Chapter Text

When Gohan cooled off, he noticed something interesting out of the corner of his eye. Heavy Z’s discarded blazer had been vaporized by Vegeta’s blast along with him, but one thing stood - the aubergine , the heavily coveted purple and gold rose.

“Whoa,” Gohan said before he approached it, catching Vegeta’s attention.

Not only was it still there; it was perfectly intact. Not a scratch or even a tear to its golden pedals. Now he understood why the whole planet was after the rose - it was virtually indestructible. He snatched it up and twirled it around in his grip, gazing upon it in awe.

“What are you so fascinated with?” Vegeta asked, drawing closer to get a good look.

“It’s this rose. I found it in one of the jungles and everybody here’s been trying to fight me for it since,” Gohan replied. “I’ve had it almost my entire time here and it’s survived without water. It even withstood your blast.”

“Seriously?” Vegeta asked, genuinely impressed. He peered in closer. It was a striking flower, as purple and gold were a good combination of colors. Taking in its scent, even Vegeta had to admit it was altogether pleasant.

“Keep it,” Vegeta advised. “When Frieza gives us shit for going off-course, this will be our ticket out of his wrath. Are there any more of these things?”

“That Z guy said there’s only four of them on the planet,” Gohan replied.

“Tch. No sense wasting even more time scouring this place, then,” Vegeta answered, crouching down so he could propel himself into the sky. “Let’s hurry up and get back to the base.”

“Well, there’s just one problem,” Gohan said before Vegeta could take off. “Those guys that attacked me when I first landed here destroyed my ship.”

Vegeta swung around with a sccathing glare towards Gohan. “Seriously?!” he growled. “Well is there at least a spaceship on this planet?.”

With a disarming laugh, Gohan pointed his thumb at what was left of the base in wake of the blast. “I’m pretty sure you got rid of it.”

Peevishly folding his arms, Vegeta cursed his own actions. It took a deep breath for him to calm himself. “I’ll call a space pod here. I’ll see what planets in Frieza’s dominion are closest, but I figure it will still take a few days at least . I’m sure Frieza will just love that.”

The bitter sarcasm lacing Vegeta’s tone made Gohan hang his head in shame. “Let’s just hope he likes this rose,” he said.

While Vegeta flipped his scouter on to speak with technical support, Gohan let all of his breath out to recover for a moment. He reflected on the weeks passed, and how his escape plan that never was spelled his new reality out in clear letters. The damage he wrought to this planet was what lay ahead for his life, and he’d just have to put his head down and do it. Only through that would he stand a chance with Frieza.

“Aright, they said it’ll take about a week. We’ll search for another one of those flowers while we wait,” Vegeta said.

“Well I mean, I only found this one by pure luck,” Gohan replied. 

“So we’ll just go where there are more plants,” Vegeta said, as if it should have been obvious.

Gohan sighed, unable to hide his disappointment. “If we have time, I’d rather train to be honest.”

Instead of rebuff, Vegeta smirked. That was the spirit! “Who says we won’t? There’s still people left on this planet, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll handle them.”

Gohan’s tail restlessly coiled behind him as he frowned. He didn’t want to seek out and kill the planet’s people when it wasn’t a job; at the same time, he’d been there long enough to know how rotten they all were. No matter where he and Vegeta would go, trouble would follow.

He certainly wouldn’t lose too much sleep over killing people like them.

Gohan looked back up at Vegeta and compliantly nodded. They flew away from the ravaged base in search of a jungle. Gohan was fine with Vegeta leading the way with the use of his scouter, preferring to keep his Ki sensing ability a secret. 

“What the hell gave you of all people the balls to try escaping, anyway?” Vegeta asked, looking over his shoulder.

“I bumped into two of the technicians and they showed me where to find the tracking devices on the ship by accident,” Gohan answered. With a shrug he added, “Figured I’d try going back to Earth, but if I did that you guys would know with or without a tracker.”

Smart kid , Vegeta thought. In fact, that was he and the Saiyans’ immediate assumption when they noticed his absence, until he reached out to Vegeta.

“I thought I was going back to the planet we were assigned to, but I ended up here, instead.” That still confused Gohan - he had spoken the coordinates correctly, right?

“Hn. We haven’t had anybody try to escape since they put those damn trackers in the ship,” Vegeta said. 

“They didn’t always have those things in them?” Gohan asked, shocked by the apparent sloppiness. “People must’ve been escaping all the time before, huh?”

“Not quite. Even if they did escape, only a trusted few people even know the coordinates to planets beyond their home - if it still exists,” Vegeta bitterly noted, “Or the ones they’ve purged, or ones in Frieza’s network. Nobody would know where to go unless they were involved in their home planet’s space program - and Frieza would make them turn that knowledge over and colonize those worlds.”

Gohan nodded. That would explain why that launch room he snuck into was handprint-activated. “So what made them change it; you?”

“I wish,” Vegeta said with a laugh. “But no. It was, in fact, one of those trusted few. An ornery bastard named Kabnet. Not only did he escape, but we haven’t heard from him since. Even mentioning his name will bring cracks to Frieza’s wine glass.” Vegeta snickered at the thought. He had to give Kabnet his respect for pulling it off, though he was a complete asshole.

“You said that Z guy used to be a client, right?” Gohan asked, just spitballing as he thought over Vegeta’s exposition.

“Yes, why?”

“Maybe he knows something about it?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Who knows? It’s not like it’s important.” The universe was too big of a place for him to worry about some distant turncoat’s activities. It mattered little; anybody foolish enough to directly oppose Frieza was a dead man walking.

He’d have long done it himself if it weren’t true.

Gohan didn’t give it much deeper thought, though he did wonder why this planet’s people pursued him even before he claimed the rose. Perhaps it wasn’t anything special - maybe violence was just in their nature like the Saiyans. He continued on ahead, wondering what a week training with Vegeta on a planet to themselves would have in store.

A few weeks later, the two arrived at Planet Frieza #78 - the one closest to home base. A pit stop, though Vegeta hadn’t bothered to tell Gohan why they chose that planet. The week on Planet Zuna consisted mostly of aimless searching through jungles for another Aubergine rose. After picking off the few remaining inhabitants, they found another rose - but only one more. Gohan mostly bristled over what little training time he got with Vegeta.

“What are we doing here, anyway?” Gohan asked.

“The only optometrist in this army stays here,” Vegeta explained, to Gohan’s genuine surprise. “The healing tank won’t fix everything and I can’t have one of my men going about with only one working eye.”

The practical explanation made more sense than Vegeta actually caring, Gohan admitted. Save for that brief moment of emotion getting the better of him, Gohan had kept his wounded eye shut. With his Ki sensing ability, he didn’t actually need any surgery but admittedly prefered having unimpeded sight.

Unlike the other two Frieza planets, a hot-pink sky illuminated this world. It was a more advanced, industrialized star filled with skylines that Gohan could see in the far distance. He and Vegeta stepped inside a small, silver building. It was sparsely populated, the few soldiers who walked about possessing visible and often unnerving injuries. One yellow-skinned alien fighter limped past Gohan with one arm missing - an arm being held in the hands of the taller purple soldier next to him. The half-Saiyan looked away while Vegeta led him to a room. Vegeta hadn’t even blinked at the sight.

“Dr. Plume?” Vegeta asked as they entered the doorway.

“Ah, Vegeta,” replied a short, tan-skinned man with glasses. He wore a lab coat over the traditional armor. “How can I assist you?”

“Kid needs his eye fixed up,” Vegeta instructed, pointing at Gohan.

“Ah, should be a simple matter.”

Despite everything he’d been through, including weeks as the sole target on a planet of savages, a drought swept through Gohan’s throat when he saw the canopy-like chair in the center of the room. Next to it, a small table filled with scalpels among other sharp tools.

Call it white coat syndrome. Call it inheriting his father’s fear of needles. But Gohan was spooked.

Vegeta could see Gohan’s nervous shudders and nearly pinch the bridge of his nose. “Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me, kid. You’re scared of this ?” Now if a worm managed to crawl in...

Loathe to the Prince’s harsh words, Gohan bit down on his bottom lip and laid down in the chair. To his horror, the doctor went ahead and grabbed a scalpel.

He quickly sat up from his chair. “Whoa, what are you doing?! You’re just gonna operate on me without any anesthetics?”

“Ane- what ?” Vegeta asked.

The doctor shifted awkwardly and shrugged. “Um, sorry, but we don’t use any medication for surgery procedures. King Cold says it will toughen you up.”

What kind of inhumane nonsense was that? In the choice between not looking weak in front of Vegeta or not subjecting himself to a nightmarish live surgery, Gohan surprisingly went with the latter. He leaned towards Dr. Plume with a menacing glare.

“Just get me the gas you use for the space pods,” Gohan ordered, raising his tightly squeezed fist when Plume hesitated. “Do it or I’ll...I’ll beat you up! ”

For a brief moment, Vegeta let genuine laughter escape him. A pitiful imitation of himself on Gohan’s part, and his trembling voice gave away the fact that he hadn’t actually intended to follow through; still, he admired the effort. At least he was learning.

Pale imitation or not, the doctor wasn’t about to test a Saiyan child’s patience. He hurried out of the room to retrieve a gas apparatus. Gohan grunted and folded his arms, eyes on the Saiyan prince whose laughter had died down.

“Well, aren’t you gonna call me spoiled or something?” Gohan asked.

“Nonsense,” Vegeta rebuffed. “When you use your power to get things done on your own terms, that’s not being spoiled - that’s earning your keep. Remember that.”

It was advice that Gohan took to heart as he simmered in the chair. In the setting he was stuck in, asserting oneself was the only way to endure it. Veget stood as the sterling example.

Dr. Plume soon returned with a mask and a potion containing the gas used in the space pods. Though he actually agreed with Gohan’s stance on surgery, the Cold Force procedures were ingrained in him. He didn’t expect the lone warrior speaking against it to be a Saiyan, however. He put the mask over Gohan’s face and connected it to the potion, successfully knocking him out after a few moments. Vegeta stayed in the room with his arms folded, just to ensure Plume didn’t screw up.

With both eyes back to 100%, Gohan warily gazed upon the steel doors that stood before Frieza’s throne room. He was back at the base for the first time in over two months and missed nary a square inch. Vegeta stood next to him, his features relaxed as he kept his arms tucked at his sides. They were instructed to see Frieza the second they left their pods, even with Gohan’s uniform as disheveled as it was.

The doors opened on their own, and the two Saiyans briskly walked inside so as not to work Frieza’s patience. Both took position on one knee and bowed their heads respectfully.

“Stand straight,” Frieza calmly instructed. They complied, although with puzzled eyes towards him. They expected Frieza to condescend on them with concealed anger, but his crimson eyes seemed halfway between inquisitive and bored . Per usual, Zarbon and Dodoria were on either side of him - Vegeta didn’t miss the eager smirk etching upon the mint-skinned sycophant’s face.

Frieza looked Gohan’s tattered appearance up and down. The uniform he’d last seen months earlier was but a shredded, stain, and battered shell of itself, evidence that his erroneous landing hadn’t been a favorable one.

“You’ve been gone for a long time, my young lad,” Frieza began, his throaty drawl as revolting as ever. “Though I do commend you for braving through an evidently rigorous ordeal, you do realize that your folly has put us woefully behind schedule, do you not?”

“Yes,” Gohan said, his eyes to the floor. Vegeta gave him just the slightest nudge with his foot. “Um, Lord Frieza.”

In a probing mood, Zarbon’s grin widened as he folded his arms. “I spoke to our surveillance department. I find it highly suspect that your space pod went offline shortly after your departure for your mission.”

Raising his increasingly irritable black eyes towards Zarbon, Gohan steadied his breath. “After I left, a circuit went off in my ship. I was supposed to go to planet 4650 VW, but I instead wound up on 4 56 0 VW.”

Silently, Vegeta commended Gohan. He said their prepared story without a hitch - and really, it was still partially true.

“It sounds like a convenient excuse to me,” Zarbon said. “I say the boy tried to desert and chose a planet in the same star system as your assignment.”

Gohan opened his mouth to speak, but Vegeta was quicker to the draw. “Would you care to probe my scouter and hear my and Gohan’s communication after his landing, Zarbon?”

“I didn’t ask for your testimony, monkey prince!” Zarbon snapped, though Vegeta returned his glare with interest.

“Well check it, then!” Gohan challenged. “I thought I was on the right planet and tried to find where Vegeta and the others were.” A lie only by omission. “Don’t blame me for all of the buggy ships around here.”

Zarbon’s features scornfully contorted. “Why, how dare-”

Frieza halted Zarbon’s menacing first step with his disarming laughter. “He does have you there, Zarbon! Whether you’re correct or Gohan’s correct, it matters not. He has returned.”

The faintest smirk tugged against Vegeta’s lips as he watched Zarbon grumble. There were few things he enjoyed more than getting one over on the sumptuous officer.

“However, Gohan, due to the severity of your mistake, I do feel that an abscondment is necessary,” Frieza said, menace overtaking his calm speech.

Rather than cower, however, Gohan stood firm. He and Vegeta had this exact scenario already covered. “Lord Frieza, sir, if I may?”

Frieza lifted his chin out of curiosity. “Yes?”

“I know I screwed up, but Vegeta and I wound up finding something interesting on that planet that had everyone in a frenzy,” Gohan said as he and Vegeta retrieved the two purple and gold aubergine roses they’d snatched. 

Frieza’s countenance took on an expression neither Saiyan had ever seen before. His jaw sank as his eyes radiated a gobsmacked astonishment. 

“My Goodness!” he said, his voice a breathy wheeze. Remaining in his chair, he floated forward until he was only a foot from the two bemused Saiyans. “Is that a genuine Aubergine rose?!”

He gingerly took the royally colored beauty from Gohan’s hands and breathed in its intoxicating scent. “Heavens above, that explains the uncharacteristically pleasant aroma I picked up from you two! No wonder I was in a fairer mood!”

Vegeta fought off a hysterical grin - not one of joy, but of utter perplexment. He’d long known Frieza to be an eccentric figure, but he’d never seen him marveling like such - like a child towards a shiny toy. Frieza grabbed the other rose from Vegeta’s withering grip and indulgently held both of them to his nostrils.

“As sublime as my father always said it was,” Frieza said, catching Gohan and Vegeta’s interest. “Child, let’s say we wipe your slate clean for now. You two are dismissed.”

Vegeta and Gohan exchanged two incredulous glances, but weren’t about to object. They both cleared the throne room.

Still smitten with the lavish roses, Frieza turned to his two subordinates. “Zarbon, meet with our intelligence group and find out more about Planet Zuna.”

“Sir?” a flustered Zarbon asked.

“I addressed you by name, so I assume you heard what came afterwards,” Frieza said, his tone shifting seamlessly to a harsh warning. Being addressed in such a way made Zarbon sweat.

“Yes, Lord.”

As Gohan returned to the sleeping quarters with Vegeta, he felt five immense forces assault his senses and froze. Even walking ahead of Gohan, Vegeta noticed. 

“What’s going on?” Vegeta asked.

Gohan paused, realizing they were five Ki signatures he could feel even from a great distance. They were as malicious as they were enormous. He would have been fearful for his life if he hadn’t remembered that there wasn’t a single person around the army besides himself who didn’t constantly carry malice in their heart. He looked back up at Vegeta to answer.

“Nothing.”

Vegeta curiously arched his eyebrow at the boy but nonetheless turned back around and continued his trail. They made it back to the sleeping quarters, where Nappa and Raditz sat in wait.

“‘Bout time you guys made it back,” Raditz said.

Nappa pounded his fist against his cot in frustration. “That prick Zarbon took it out on us with a bunch of bullshit jobs instead of sending us to another planet.”

“Figures,” Vegeta replied. “The boy’s stronger than you now, by the way.”

Both Nappa and Raditz almost fell over in shock. Nappa stared incredulously at the shy child, who shifted awkwardly at the attention. Raditz knew that Gohan was a good catch with his strength at a young age, but he never would have guessed he’d improve at such an extraordinary rate. 

“However, since you’re far more tactically experienced, Nappa, I still consider you my second-in-command. But that’s motivation to get your ass in the training room,” Vegeta said, removing his armor as he lay down on his cot, glad to finally have time to stretch his limbs out.

Nappa stormed towards the door and looked over his shoulder at Raditz. “Get your ass over here, Raditz, and bring the Saibamen!”

Raditz snickered and followed. His laziness was the unspoken elephant in the room, perhaps the main reason he was so much weaker. He preferred slithering his way to victory when possible. Nonetheless, he joined Nappa on the way to the training room.

When they were gone, Vegeta snickered and laid back with both hands behind his head. “Hn. Fools.”

With them gone and Vegeta asleep, Gohan stared at his cot and reflected on his premature escape. While he accepted that he couldn’t reach his home again any time soon, he didn’t want to forget it, either. After slipping one of his gloves off, Gohan scratched something into the top of his cot with his fingernails:

1984AT

Earth’s coordinates. He stared at it for a few minutes, images of the lush blue planet pleasantly filling his mind.

After breathing a wistful sigh, Gohan snuck off to visit what had quickly become his favorite hall of the building. This time, he didn’t hear as much noise coming from the room and when he reached the doorway, Lemo and Kiyomi were sitting alone working on scouters.

“Well look who’s finally back,” Lemo said.

“Guess stupid ass Lemo here showed you something you weren’t supposed to know, eh?” Kiyomi said with a snicker while Lemo rolled his eyes. In her mouth was, in Earth terms, a cigarette. It filled the room with a faint haze of smoke. Gohan smiled as he recalled all the times his mom would scold his grandfather for smoking in the house.

Gohan looked down at the scouters they were tinkering with while Kiyomi blew smoke. “So whaddaya wanna learn, now? How to crash the entire scouter network?”

Gohan laughed and observed Lemo’s work on the scouter. “I did kinda want to figure out what other things I can do with a scouter. Nobody really bothered to explain them besides reading power levels and communicating.”

“Well that’s all they’re good for on your end, but there’s a few other advanced features only issued to the higher ups’ scouters,” Lemo explained. “Gives them access to secret intelligence any time needed. Might as well figure out what to do with yours when it’s busted, though.”

Though Gohan didn’t actually need a scouter to detect power levels anymore, the knowledge could come in handy if he ever came across a situation like Zuna again. As Lemo began explaining the dissected scouter in front of him, Kiyomi narrowed her eyes at a figure that stood in the doorway. It was for just a brief second, but her stare was venomous. Lemo and Gohan stopped to ask her a question and trembled at her glare.

“What’s got you looking so nasty, Kiyomi?” Lemo asked. By the time they noticed, the object of her scowl was gone.

“Just a rat.”

Following his scouter lesson, Gohan got a bite to eat. It took him ten minutes to get through the unpleasant meal and he rushed out to the hall to rid himself of the memory. As he walked, he felt those five Ki signatures from earlier nearby. He could overhear boisterous laughter that grew louder the more their ki drew closer. Finally, he looked to his left and found five warriors of varying height and color approaching him. He stopped, waiting for one of them to speak up.

"So this must be the new Saiyan I've heard about," the muscle-man with veiny, purple skin and black horns atop his head remarked. His Ki was the strongest of the five.

"Looks like a little runt to me," said one of the taller ones, a scaly blue-skinned man with a bug-like head and eyes that were completely red.

“Is there a problem?” Gohan asked with a scowl, already losing patience.

The group of five raucously laughed. "I don't think the lil’ dingo knows who we are, mates!" the one with red skin and long, flowing white hair said. Save for the peach-colored, pineapple-headed behemoth, he was the most human-like of the gang. He spoke in a rough, loose accent.

"Well, I think we oughta show him!" the purple one replied.

On the purple man's cue, the five warriors broke into a series of peculiar, choreographed dance moves. They looked like fools in Gohan’s eyes, men far too self-absorbed to realize how silly they behaved. They stopped once they all bunched together in differing poses -

"JEICE!" The red one.

"BURTER!" The blue one.

"GULDO!" The short, lime green one whom Gohan had only just noticed.

"RECOOME!" The big guy.

"CAPTAIN GINYU!" The veiny, horned puprle-skinned leader.

"WE ARE…" they all shouted in unison, "…THE GINYU FORCE!"

Gohan nearly fell on his face. This was the Ginyu Force, the elite squadron of fighters he had heard so much about? They looked less like fearsome warriors and more like Super Sentai rejects.

"Well, whaddaya think?" Captain Ginyu asked with a boastful smile over his absurd dance routine.

"Uh…"

Ginyu growled irritably at the half-Saiyan. "Don't tell me you can't comprehend the grand artistry of the Ginyu Special Poses! Pfft, typical of you uncultured simians!"

Jeice decided to pile on. "Yeah, judgin' from that confused look on ya face, you can't comprehend the grand artistry of our poses!"

"…that's exactly what I said, dumbass."

Jeice slapped his forehead. "Oh, sorry Cap'n!"

Goofy couldn’t even begin to describe them. Everyone else save for Lemo and Kiyomi were stern and stiff at all times, yet here were these guys behaving as freely stupid as possible. The title of Frieza’s most prestigious soldiers belonged to a circus alley?

"Aww, be nice to the kid! He's an adorable little monkey!" said Guldo, the bulbous, green dwarf with an extra eye on each side of his head. Disregarding personal space, Guldo stuck his squalid face in Gohan’s and pinched both of his cheeks as if he were a baby.

"Get off of me, you freak!" Gohan shouted, grabbing Guldo's wrist. However, the lime mutant took in a big gulp of breath, and a split-second later he was standing behind Gohan. He squeezed the tail Gohan had sloppily left uncoiled, seizing him onto his hands and knees. As he fought the pain swelling inside, Gohan cursed himself. He somehow didn’t catch the grubby turd’s movement at all - he didn’t even feel his hand initially take hold of his tail. One second, Guldo was squeezing his cheeks, and the next he had him by the tail. 

To make matters worse, they were all laughing at his helplessness.

"Bet you didn't know I could freeze time, did ya?" Guldo boasted.

"Gets them every time," Burter snickered.

Refusing to let them see him suffer, Gohan clamped down on his teeth hard enough to ache his jaw. If it weren't for his damned tail, he would have been choking Guldo to death.

“Alright, alright, you made your point, Guldo. You can let him go,” Ginyu said, like he was talking to a child.

"Aww, I was having fun!" Guldo pouted, releasing Gohan's tail from his grip. He laughed, looking down with his arms folded in mockery. "I hope you learned your lesson, monkey boy!"

"Groveling on the floor sure does suit your pack!" Recoome joked as they all walked past Gohan and down the hall.

"At any rate, let's hurry up and report to Lord Frieza! I don't want to miss my Soaps!" Burter shouted.

"Ooh, is it As the Universe Cycles ? I hear Chandrika's gettin' out o’ her coma today!" Jeice added, like a gossiping school girl.

"I know, that's why I want to hurry up!"

As soon as their voices were out of reach, Gohan slammed his fist into the floor with feral growl. He’d wanted to get his hands on every last one of those freaks but knew he was powerless to do so. That futile feeling assaulted his mind at every corner in Frieza’s army, and he yearned to conquer it.

And he’d only do it through training.

Deciding to join Nappa and Raditz, Gohan marched to the training room with vigor, but a voice cut through his scouter.

“Gohan! Report to the west end of the planet immediately.” It was Dodoria. Gohan impatiently hissed through his teeth but he knew there was no bargaining with him.

When he left the building, he took off to the sky and followed Dodoria’s Ki. That wasn’t the only one he sensed, either - there was Zarbon, and two week, distressed signatures as well. Gohan wondered whom they belonged to…

...and when he reached the spot, he got his heinous answer.

Dodoria had Lemo seized on the ground with his foot to his back. Zarbon had a tight grip around the hair of Kiyomi - one of his own kind. The two friendly technicians were trembling, covered in hideous bruises. Gohan sped down to them in a furious flash.

“What are you doing to them?!” he shouted. Lemo was teetering on the edge of consciousness while Kiyomi only looked up, her eyes burning with contempt for the man pulling on her scalp.

“I saw you talking to these two fools earlier. Did they show you anything before your little vacation?” Zarbon asked, his face as smug as ever. It was petty, but he despised Gohan for outwitting him to the point of earning a scolding from Frieza. This was his payback.

Gohan was too consumed with anger to respond quickly, so Zarbon drove his knee into Kiyomi’s back to speed him up.

“Answer me, monkey!”

“They didn’t show me anything!” Gohan shouted in a raspy growl.

“Wrong answer.”

A razor-thin beam from Zarbon’s fingertip struck Gohan’s knee, instantly befalling him and forcing him to use his one free leg for support.

“The truth will go badly for these two, but every lie will only hurt you in the end,” Zarbon taunted. “Now, what did they show you?”

“N-nothing!”

“Dammit kid, don’t worry about us!” Kiyomi shouted. Her plea only made Zarbon wrench her hair tighter, enough to make her squeal.

“Nobody called for you to chime in, Kiyomi! Still as feisty as you were back home, huh?”

Though he tried, Gohan couldn’t plant his injured leg back down by his foot. He grew angrier with every passing second, knowing this was all purely out of spite. 

“Now, let me be more specific in case you were confused. Did these two show you how to deactivate the tracking device in your space pod?”

“No!”

He expected a beam to the other knee, but instead it struck straight through his right shoulder. The sleeve of his bodysuit dampened from the blood that quickly left his shoulder, yet his conviction didn’t dampen with it. He wouldn’t let the only two people in the organization who were decent to him suffer for his own misdeed.

“Well, I find your lies to be an admission of guilt all the same,” Zarbon said through his twisted smile. He cocked his head towards Dodoria. “I suppose Lemo’s foot will suffice?”

Fighting against his own body, Gohan tried to thrust himself forward but only fell to the ground. As Dodoria removed his foot from Lemo’s back and focused his energy to his right hand, Kiyomi haplessly reached her hand out. She knew it would do no good, but it was all she could do to stand for her comrade.

Dodoria conjured the energy into a blade submerging his hand, and in one swipe he sliced off Lemo’s foot like a butcher's knife to salami.

The sound of Lemo’s gruesome scream reverberated through Gohan’s ears and flipped a switch that shut off all the nerves signaling pain to his body. Free of rational thought, Gohan flew up and punched Dodoria in the face with every ounce of strength in his body. The force of his fist knocked the scouter off Dodoria’s face and actually sent him to the ground.

“You idiot!” Kiyomi screamed, falling to the ground from the stunned Zarbon’s loosened grip.

Before Gohan could act on his rage any further, Dodoria leveled him with both feet while lying on the ground. Quicker than his body would suggest, Dodoria jumped back up and hammered Gohan with a cascade of punches, making sure with each blow that the half-Saiyan child understood the extent of his foolishness. He capped it off with a headbutt that propelled Gohan dozens of feet ahead. As if that weren’t enough, Dodoria flipped up high until he was about a hundred feet in the air and with the speed of a pebble, came down and crushed the tiny child underneath the weight of his backside. The force of his drop was enough to form a tiny crater.

Unearthly screams escaped Gohan as he felt his bones nearly crumble to dust. Thinking he didn’t get the message, Dodoria made sure to stay there for a few moments and drove himself further until the ground cracked beneath the boy. As soon as he stood back up and relieved Gohan of his weight, he raised his arm over his glazed-over face. 

“Striking an officer is instant death, you little brat!” Dodoria said with a sadistic grin. “Nighty night!”

“Wait,” Zarbon said before Dodoria could fire. “You know how Lord Frieza is with his pet chimps. Leave him be for now.”

Dodoria scornfully looked down at the boy, disappointed but knowing every word Zarbon said was true.

“Besides, I think it’s better that he lived with this memory,” Zarbon snickered, looking down at their three broken subordinates. He gave special attention to Kiyomi, whom he kicked to roll her over on her back so she could look at him.

“What a shame to see such beauty spoiled,” Zarbon taunted.

Though her eyes were only halfway open, they pierced through her male kin’s. “ Fuck you. Your father would’ve spat on you if he saw you now!”

In response, Zarbon hurled a wad of phlegm-coated spit onto her face; it hit her right in the eye and rolled down her cheek. “Instead, I spit on you; like the cheap whore you always were.”

After Dodoria retrieved his discarded scouter and spitefully punted Lemo’s severed foot thousands of feet away, he and Zarbon floated into the sky.

“Recover on your own terms, weaklings,” were Zarbon’s parting words before they both took off.

Though his body felt more like a rubber shell carrying a pile of disheveled bones, Gohan somehow rolled onto his stomach and crawled towards Lemo and Kiyomi. Sheer will fueled his arms as he inched his way closer. Lemo had passed out from the pain as blood continued spilling from where his foot used to be. Much like he’d done for himself on Planet Zuna, Gohan tore off both of his sleeves and wrapped them around his leg to sap the blood loss.

“K-kid, what are you doing?” Kiyomi asked through hoarse coughs. “We can handle ourselves. Don’t worry about us!”

“I-It’s my fault,” Gohan wheezed. 

Having gotten the lighter end of the punishment, Kiyomi sat up and bent down on one knee as she looked down at the headstrong young Saiyan. She swiped the odorous spit from her face.

“Listen,” she began. “I know all about what you Saiyans are really after in this mess. And I know you probably hate how they dragged you into this, but those three are your blood.”

Gohan lifted one of his hazy eyes up at her as she spoke. He could feel his consciousness slipping, but gave Kiyomi his full attention regardless.

With a bitter smile, Kiyomi turned her head to her left and looked straight ahead. “Once upon a time, I used to be able to call Zarbon a decent guy. But he sent our whole planet up the river so he could be the head ass-kisser in charge around here.”

She looked back down at Gohan, her features stern. “Don’t ever turn your back on your people, Gohan. When the chips are down, they’re all you got.”

A weak nod was all Gohan could respond with before he passed out. Kiyomi smirked, both admiring and condemning his foolish earnestness. She picked both Gohan and Lemo up by the collars of their armor and flew back to the base. Her injuries were minor - nothing a few bandages wouldn’t fix - but those two needed a healing tank as soon as possible. When she arrived, she got Lemo attended to first. She wondered if the healing tank would restore his foot, though she doubted it. She found a room for Gohan shortly after, and hooked him to a chamber. As she closed the door and watched the fluid submerge, she folded her arms.

Silently, Kiyomi willed for Gohan to be the one to destroy Frieza - after letting her get a shot at Zarbon first, of course.

When Gohan woke up, he pulled a stunt that Vegeta had made famous over the years - he blasted the rejuvenation chamber’s glass to kingdom come, startling the attendant who’d just dropped off a new set of armor. Gohan yanked his mask off and snatched the new uniform from the table. He needed to shed himself of the battered rags he wore - a shameful stain from his odious encounter. Waves of incoherent thoughts assaulted Gohan’s mind as he changed.

This was what making friends meant in this world? First Mentos, and then Lemo and Kiyomi. His desperate need for companionship only led to suffering for those he took to. Well, no more.

In the middle of tugging on his last glove, he stormed out. A crowd of eyes darted to him as he whipped his head back and forth, searching for Zarbon. When lucid thought returned to him, he exhaled and headed for the sleeping quarters.

Gohna kicked the door open and when he reached his cot, he punched a hole in the wall next to it. The commotion woke up the three Saiyans who slumbered with their armor removed. Nappa and Raditz had found Gohan in the rejuvenation chamber following their training session, so they suspected what had brought on his temper; Vegeta, on the other hand, was lost.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” asked a still half-sleepy Vegeta.

“I’m too weak!” Gohan seethed, banging his fists against the cot.

“Huh?”

“I’ll kill Zarbon!” Gohan spat through clenched teeth, not sounding at all like himself. “I’ll get stronger, and I’ll show him!” He smashed a small dent into his cot. “I’ll show all those guys!”

“Zarbon, huh?” Nappa said, shaking his head. “Figures. Bastard has it out for us worse than Frieza.”

As his mind settled in, Vegeta recognized that frustrated helplessness in Gohan. He’d known far too well, for far too long, what it was like to reckon with that gap that stood between him and his superiors. So dismayed was Gohan, that his eyes spilled boiling tears.

Nappa and Raditz knew it, too. They’d all felt it over the years. Often, they wondered how much longer their patience could last.

“Well if you have time to bitch and moan about it, you have time to train,” Vegeta said. He looked over his shoulder at Nappa. “Hey, you still got any Saibamen left?”

“Yeah, we didn’t go through all of ‘em,” Nappa said, digging through the shelf directly above his cot. He tossed a small, white case across the room that landed perfectly on Gohan’s cot, directly in front of his still simmering crown.

“We already have a box of soil prepared in the room,” Nappa explained. “Just plant the seeds and pour the liquid on it.”

Gohan just stared at the case, his temper still in the process of cooling off. 

“If it helps any, just look at it like this,” Vegeta said with a haughty smirk. “If you still have sour grapes towards Raditz for dragging you into all this, those Saibamen all equal him in power. So in a sense, you’ll be taking it out on him.”

Nappa howled with laughter while Raditz growled. He didn’t rebuke Vegeta’s taunts though, instead silently cursing his futility (though he did little to ever fix it).

As he looked at the case, Gohan thought about Kiyomi’s last words to him before he blacked out, about sticking with his people. Though the Saiyans had put him through hell, Gohan had to admit one thing - it was always to toughen him up. 

For better or worse, they were his allies. 

Moments later, Gohan snatched the case and left the room to train. Raditz folded his arms in thought.

“Looks like the kid’s starting to break.”

Vegeta grunted in acknowledgment. From the beginning, the goal was for Gohan to see the Saiyan way - but he hoped it came more from ordeals like Planet Zuna than from the Frieza Force’s snakes slithering about. The Saiyans were due for another mission today, so ideally, Gohan could get another real fight to cut his teeth on. 

The Saiyan trio put their armor and assorted gear back on and went to the mess hall to get some grub before Zarbon’s inevitable briefing. As they ate, a red fist abruptly smashed against their table. All three looked up irritably at the stocky, red-skinned man sneering down at them.

“The hell do you want, Boysen?” Vegeta asked. 

“So I hear you and the monkey brat wiped out Planet Zuna,” Boysen said, though his frown crept upward. “Sounds like you got something valuable out of it, too.”

“And what’s it to you?” Vegeta asked, furrowing his brows into a challenging gaze. If Frieza’s stupefied reaction were any indication, that rose was a treasure sought after across the universe. But if Boysen wanted a piece of it, he was too late.

“Oh, nothing,” Boysen replied with an arcane gleam in his eye. “I’d just hope for your sake you don’t bump into anybody who valued that planet.”

“Don’t you have a bunch of withered up dustball worlds to survey?” Vegeta testily spat. “As you can see, we’re trying to eat.”

“Oh, I will. Enjoy...” Boysen said, leaving with a puzzling laughter. Vegeta narrowed his eyes, trying to get a gauge of his angle.

“The hell was that about?” Raditz asked.

“I don’t know…” Vegeta replied, absent-minded. It was rare that Boysen, one of Frieza’s intelligence agents, ever interacted with them. He mostly worked in the shadows, one of the trusted few in charge of overseeing new planets.

“Bah, whatever. Screw him,” Vegeta concluded, returning to his food. Moments later, Zarbon’s voice rang through their scouters.

“Saiyans, report to me at the launch room for your next assignment briefing. Time is of the essence,” Zarbon instructed. 

“Huh, that’s weird,” Nappa observed. Vegeta agreed - they typically didn’t board their pods through the launch room. They’d have them already waiting for them outside of the front entrance.

“In any case, we apparently have to hurry,” Vegeta said. The three left their trays unfinished and headed for the hallway. Vegeta didn’t find Gohan joining them, so he went to the training facility first and swung the door open.

“Hey, Ki-”

He, Nappa, and Raditz all gasped at the sight before them - limps, fingers, guts, and pale green blood splattered all across the walls; not even the ceiling was spared. In the center of the room, amongst piles of torsos and displaced limbs, Gohan stood with a manic look in his eyes the likes of which they’d never seen. His boot was pressed against the severed head off a Saibamen, squeezing it like it was a grapefruit. He didn’t seem to notice the stunned trio ahead of him; instead he pressed his foot down harder…

Pop!  

The Saibaman’s head finally burst under the pressure of Gohan’s foot, its blood and brain matter managing to fling over to the three Saiyans.

“Aw, shit!” Nappa groaned, trying to wipe the revolting, gooey substances from his face and armor. Vegeta and Raditz did the same, and it was their vocal displeasure that finally snapped Gohan out of his psychosis.

“Um, what-”

“Nevermind this,” Vegeta said. “Zarbon wants us to report to the launch room. Don’t worry about the mess, let’s just go.”

Gohan tried to shake himself off; it was like he saw red as soon as those Saibamen popped up from the soil. Unlike all the times he blacked out, he was fully conscious of what he’d done - and despite everything telling him he should have been, he wasn’t entirely ashamed of his actions.

“By the way,” Nappa began as they made their way to the room. “Who the hell got you in the healing tank after Zarbon beat you down? He usually makes us clean up after him.”

“It was Kyomi,” Gohan muttered, still sore from the memory and her suffering.

“Who?” both Raditz and Nappa asked.

“The large-breasted female from Zarbon’s planet,” Vegeta replied.

“Ah, of course,” Raditz said, a vulgar smirk spreading across his lips. “I’d sure like to have her help me with a thing or two.” The three elder Saiyans laughed, though Gohan didn’t understand what was so funny. 

As they approached the launch room, Gohan realized it was the same place he’d infiltrated to learn Earth’s coordinates. Zarbon already awaited the three in the open doorway. The mere sight of him made Gohan’s blood boil. As expected, the engineer of his earlier suffering leered at him with a contemptible smile. 

Hearing the low growl that escaped Gohan’s throat, Vegeta subtly nudged him as if to say, “Not now.” Gohan listened.

It was with his focus restored that Gohan noticed someone else with Zarbon - the stocky red man from when he snuck inside. Or, as the Saiyans and Zarbon knew him, Boysen.

While Zarbon began his instructions, Boysen kept disconcertingly grinning at the Saiyans. Vegeta kept his attention halfway between him and Zarbon.

“Alright, Boysen says this is an urgent mission, so we’re sending you all off in our High-Speed Pods,” Zarbon explained. “See to it that they aren’t damaged, as these are among the few we even have.”

The four Saiyans all nodded. Zarbon continued. “You are to carefully purge the Planet Linden. Do not transform into Giant Apes, as we want as much of the planet’s minerals and livestock intact as we can manage. Given the nature of the mission, we’re giving you all a month to finish the job.”

“Got it,” Vegeta said, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the smickering Boysen.

As the four Saiyans approached their space pods, Boysen stopped to address Vegeta. “Looking forward to the report back, if you make it out alive, that is.”

Vegeta stopped to turn, his eyebrow distrustfully raised as he stared hard at Boysen. “I assure you, there will be no if. ”

“You sure about that?” Boysen said, smugly folding his arms.

“Enough, Boysen!” Zarbon scolded. Boysen rolled his eyes.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about either, Zarbon,” Boysen answered with a degree of scorn to which Vegeta took immediate notice. He initially suspected the two might have been up to something, but Zarbon looked incredulous his damn self. Declining to press it any further, Vegeta stepped inside his pod.

Once he took a seat and shut the door, he pressed the intercom to communicate with the other Saiyans. “I don’t know if you all noticed, but Boysen’s behavior was highly suspect. Check all around the inside of your pods and make sure you don’t notice anything unusual.” Vegeta did so as he spoke, and everything at least appeared okay.

Gohan listened and looked around, but nothing caught his eye either. However, his nose did pick up a faint scent. “I don’t see anything, but my pod kinda smells like sulfur.”

“Sulfur? The hell’s that? ” Nappa asked over the intercom.

“Aren’t those the foul-smelling rocks? The brat broke wind and doesn’t want to admit it!” Raditz cut in as he and Nappa cackled. Gohan’s cheeks flushed a crimson red. He did not fart. But, figuring that full-blooded Saiyans possessed a stronger sense of smell than him, he trusted things if they didn’t pick up on any unusual scent.

“Well, anyway, I’m clear,” Gohan said. The other three confirmed for themselves.

“Alright, let’s get out of here ,” Vegeta instructed. Their space pods left the atmosphere. Gohan was still too wound up to welcome sleep, the smell of Saibamen blood still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t enough to squash a few mindless imps; Gohan needed a real opponent to take his frustration out on.

He stayed awake for the entire flight, which was close to a day. His pod began its descent, a blistering trail into the planet’s atmosphere that Gohan had already grown accustomed to.

What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, though? That noxious sulfuric stench from the earlier launch flooding his nostrils like a tsunami.

And then, the space pod exploded.

The shockwave launched Gohan away like a missile, molten pieces of metal and glass colliding with him. Through his cloudy, fading vision, he saw missiles fly past him and blast into the three other space pods. Explosions rattled off soon after, though in Gohan’s clogged, ringing eardrums they sounded like they were underwater.

When he smacked the ground, the last vestiges of his space pod collapsed with him. He could hardly breathe, hardly see, hardly hear, hardly smell, hardly sense ki; in short, he couldn’t do anything to gauge his surroundings or what the hell was even happening. His first instinct was to crawl, going in the direction opposite of where all the smoke blew. As he did, he could make out a muffled, tinny voice. Was it above him? Next to him? To his right or left? He couldn’t tell.

“These are Frieza’s men, alright...just as planned.”

That was all Gohan heard before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Gohan groaned as his eyes drifted open, a cold steel sitting against the back of his head. Realizing he was lying down, Gohan lifted his head and looked down at the floor. His hands were locked in large, metal shackles. For the umpteenth time in recent weeks, his uniform was torn up and his entire body ached.

He pulled his hands apart to break the shackles - an easy job, right?

Wrong. They wouldn’t budge, not even a centimeter.

Figuring they were just made of an abnormally sturdy steel, Gohan tried summoning his Ki. Only problem was, he couldn’t seem to access it at all, no matter how hard he focused.

“Don’t bother.”

That familiar gruff voice belonged to Vegeta, who sat behind him against the wall alongside Raditz and a slumped, unconscious Nappa. A quiet fury colored their expressions. Vegeta looked the worst for wear, chunks of his armor broken off and a face full of cuts framed with bloodshot eyes.

“These shackles sap your energy,” Vegeta muttered.

Gohan nodded in acknowledgement and opted to stand back up. It was then that he noticed the metal bars ahead that caged them. Probingly, he inched his foot towards the bars to see if he could perhaps kick them down.

"Don't even think about it," Vegeta warned, "Unless you want to end up like Nappa over here." He scornfully looked down at the unconscious Saiyan next to him. From the burns at the bottom of his legs and his contorted, unconscious face, Gohan could tell Nappa suffered dearly.

"Big, dumb oaf tried to kick the bars down and got electrocuted," Raditz remarked. "He'll get up eventually."

"Like it matters if he gets up, anyway. He'd deserve to die if he let that kill him.”

The frigidness Vegeta carried in his voice made Gohan stare glumly at him, wary of his callous disregard for an ally. Vegeta scoffed at his discomfort; Gohan had to look away.

Choosing to focus on his surroundings instead, Gohan was taken aback by just how dark their entrapment was - they could hardly see anything amongst the shadows. If there were any nearby cells or some poorly attended-to get-out-of-jail-free card, he couldn’t see it. On top of that, the air was unbearably humid.

Raditz slammed the back of his head against the wall. "God, what a sham! With the way they were rushing us to this planet it seemed like we were finally gonna get ourselves something to sink our teeth in.”

Vegeta snorted and looked straight ahead. Everything about their predicament pointed to a setup. No wonder that rat, Boysen, took so much interest in them, even to Zarbon’s confusion. Whatever this was, Vegeta was sure Boysen’s fingerprints were all over it. The better question, however, was with whom he was working. 

Sure, Frieza was remarkably pleased with he and Gohan’s gift, but maybe that was just it - perhaps the Saiyans finally fulfilled their usefulness by giving him a rare gem, and this was his way of “relieving them of their duties.” Killing soldiers was forbidden under King Cold’s authority with the exception of their admittedly wide definition of treason, but Frieza no doubt had hundreds of these schemes going on in the shadows.

Nonsense , Vegeta resolved after giving it just another moment of thought. When it came to his death, Frieza was going to savor that deed for himself. It was as guaranteed as the rising of the sun. 

The Prince's musings were cut short by a tapping noise his sensitive ears picked up on. As he peered his head out to the side, Raditz and Gohan curiously glanced at him. He tried to see any sign of anybody, but it was too damn dark. The sound grew clearer the closer it got - footsteps. 

Even while trapped, his fingers restlessly trembled; prepared for a fight even under these conditions. Then, he could see it - a body; bodies, rather. Three figures finally emerged from the shadow; when they turned to step in clear view before the cell, Vegeta and Raditz’s jaws sank.

“Kabnet?!” Vegeta gasped.

Even Gohan’s eyes and ears perked up - that was the name Vegeta had mentioned back on Planet Zuna. The man who did what he was unwilling to - escaping Frieza’s army without a trace. The man in the middle behind the bars smirked at the Saiyans’ stunned stares - he must have been Kabnet. His dull, orange skin and pointy ears aside, he looked altogether human. His hair was a messy shade of dark blue that ran down to his shoulder. And much like Gohan, a scar painted his left eye. He and the two men on either side all wore purple armor with gold plates.

“Indeed, Vegeta,” Kabnet answered from his suave, deep voice. “It’s been quite a few years. I’m surprised you even recognized me.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Vegeta snapped, vainly trying to ball up his fists on instinct. “What’s the meaning of all this?! Was this a defense, or a setup?”

Before Kabnet could answer, Gohan yelped when he got a clearer picture of the man to Kabnet’s right - purple skin, pointy ears, and green, bushy hair.

“Wait a minute,” Gohan said, pointing his shackled right hand at him, “You’re from-!”

“Finally noticed, I see,” Kabnet smugly interrupted. “I’d been smoothly operating in the shadows for quite some time now…”

“Before you wastes of oxygen wiped out my planet and pilfered one of our prized resources!” spat the Zunan man.

Kabnet snickered and calmingly waved his hand towards his associate. “Easy, Nalos. You’ll get your payback in due time.’ He turned his focus back to Vegeta. “Y’see, I was sick of answering to a prissy little brat of a tyrant like Frieza; I’m sure you understand.”

Vegeta didn’t respond. His jaw, however, flexed at the thought; more specifically, how on-the-money it was.

“So I began building my own network of planets, planting the seeds of an empire to topple Frieza and his clan. Planet Zuna was but one of my partners. And it was a fruitful alliance,” Kabnet’s grin contorted into a hateful scowl as he clenched his fist. “Until I received a message from a certain insider that it had been purged.”

It all clicked for Vegeta - he took a resolved breath. 

“Boysen.”

Kabnet snickered at Vegeta’s response. “It helps when one of your allies is operating right under the enemy’s nose, doesn’t it?”

Vegeta sucked his teeth in disgust at himself. He should have called Boysen out in front of Zarbon the instant he suspected foul play instead of putting his trust in his own inspection.

“Boysen’s been my mole for years now, taking the resources from the planets he inspects for Frieza and funneling them to me ,” Kabnet boasted. “He leaves just enough scraps for Frieza to not set off his suspicion. Any assignment that came courtesy of Boysen’s surveying was my gain.”

“Well played,” Vegeta admitted with a smirk. His praise was genuine; anybody getting one over on the lizard bastard got his props. Since the intelligence division operated in private, Vegeta didn’t know how many of his assignments were planets Boysen found; but even if it were just one, he’d considered it a satisfying middle finger to Frieza.

“All Frieza has is his power. He’s a lazy emperor who leaves everyone else to do the work while he keeps his lips tucked in a glass of wine,” Kabnet said. “Defrauding his empire is too easy when he allows so many moving parts to go unchecked. He thinks he can just coast on fear alone.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Vegeta replied. “I admire your efforts; honestly. But if you think your cute little ‘empire’ isn’t a doomed operation from the start, you’re the biggest fool in this room.”

" You’re the fool!" Kabnet barked. "My empire may be a mere speck on the map compared to Frieza’s, but we are growing in power every passing day! That is why we had Boysen send you into our grasp - Frieza must have seen to it that Zuna was wiped out himself. If he’s onto us, then we must fight," Kabnet’s face was swelling with ambition as he gazed intently at the four Saiyans behind the cell. "Unless…"

"What?" Vegeta asked.

"Unless we join forces," Kabnet said. Vegeta raised an eyebrow at Kabnet's offer. Raditz, on the other hand, only scoffed while Gohan let the truth of Zuna’s fall go unspoken. As that was going on, Nappa finally woke back up and gasped when he saw the men standing on the other side.

"What the hell-"

"Shut up, idiot!" Vegeta snapped.

Kabnet continued as if he hadn't even been interrupted. "I knew you long enough to figure out your general vibe, Vegeta. You’re a man of enormous pride. It must eat you up inside to have to kneel before that lizard, dirtying up the universe in his name. With us on the same side, Frieza would be sweating.”

Though every word resonated, Vegeta snorted in disgust like it was the silliest idea he had ever heard in his 29 years of life. "You're out of your mind, Kabnet. You could expand to the very corners of the universe and it would still end the same – as soon as Frieza sees you as a threat, he will erase every trace of you and your organization with only his fingertip.”

He wasn't bluffing. Many years prior, Vegeta had witnessed Frieza’s abominable power with his own two eyes. One of the many subjugated planets decided to stage a revolt. When one of them stooged it out, Frieza blew the entire planet to smithereens with nothing but an unholy supernova from his index finger. The sight had left Vegeta shuddering like a displaced fish.

That was the day Vegeta finally comprehended the gap that stood between his power and Frieza’s.

"Wrong answer. Either you join my effort, or die here. Anybody who isn't with me is against me." Kabnet said.

Vegeta laughed. "We’re not different, you and I. I salivate the day I finally defeat Frieza; but that day may not arrive for a long time. You don't have a solitary clue how powerful Frieza is – he goes beyond all comprehension.”

Even with his hands shackled, Vegeta lifted his right arm to boastfully point to his chest as he grinned. “And besides, when that day comes where I finally end that bastard, it will be in my name alone. The universe is mine for the taking - joining you would bring me right back to square one.” Gohan firmly nodded in solidarity, as did Nappa and Raditz. The prince’s smirk grew provocatively wide. “Although admittedly, defeating you is a far more attainable proposition.”

Such a belittling insult made Kabnet snarl with hatred. "How dare you talk to me like that, you ape! I could have all four of you killed right now!"

"Well, he’s not wrong.”

Every eye in the room turned to the pint-sized, shaggy haired, half-Saiyan in the middle of the cell. Vegeta’s rousing speech emboldened him to reveal a few harsh truths. “If Frieza ever figures out what’s going on, you guys are toast.”

"As if a child like you could ever understand! For almost a decade we’ve developed the mechanisms needed to topple Frieza. Machines, poison; you name it, we have it! We don’t rely on raw power like you brutes - we use our brains.” Punctuating his argument, Kabnet tapped his temple. “Those shackles absorbing your energy, for instance: a scientist we siphoned from Cooler’s army created those.”

Like his boastful prince, Gohan smirked at Kabnet and his men. “Well I guess you were holding out on purple dude’s planet, ‘cause those guys had me a million-to-one and still couldn’t take me!”

Though it pleased Vegeta to finally see the boy breaking out of his shy spell, he picked a bad time; especially with the stewing rage on Nalos’ face. He snuck a glance at Gohan and could have sworn he was looking at himself when he saw the confidence brimming in his face.

“What are you talking about?!” Nalos shouted, threateningly advancing to the cell.

“Frieza didn’t send us to that planet. I just kinda wound up there and all those guys started trying to kill me. Now I know why.”

Nalos almost reached out to the electric bars before he managed to calm himself. “So you’re telling me that you sought my planet out like a poacher and killed my people for sport? ”

Gohan frowned, objecting to being labeled a senseless murderer. “Hey, they all came for me first. I did what I had to do.”

Right, Vegeta said firmly in his head. Raditz beamed with pride, too. His kin had already come a long way from the crying brat in the yellow tunic.

An animalistic growl rumbled from Nalos’ prominent teeth as he reached for a button on the cell’s door. “I’ve had it! Kabnet, let me get my hands on this chimp! I will show him the wrath of Zuna!”

“By all means,” Kabnet replied.

Gohan felt like a knot was being tied in his stomach while Nalos pressed a button that sent the bars from off the ground and into the ceiling. Briefly forgetting Gohan’s folly, Vegeta and his two fellow full-bloods all lit up in realization. They all exchanged looks with only their eyeballs. Their ticket out was that close in reach?

However, Vegeta let go of any potential hope when he saw the look on the lime-skinned soldier's face, practically inviting a stunt. Just an instant later, Nalos grabbed a fistful of Gohan’s hair and dragged him away, marching off to the shadows. Though Gohan tried to fight his way out of his grasp, his efforts were useless. Vegeta hung his head in shame; he was powerless to protect someone who was not just his best ally already, but a Saiyan with bottomless potential. 

Gohan had been sent off to his death and all Vegeta and the Saiyans could do was watch.

Then again, if Planet Zuna had proven anything, Gohan was a resourceful kid. Maybe he'd figure a way out, however frivolous the thought was.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Kabnet remarked as Nalos scurried off, "Let's get back to you. Will you join us or rot away, a forgotten speck of dust?" To bolster his threat, Kabnet raised his clenched fist and enveloped it with a yellow surge of Ki.

Vegeta only stared at his glowing hand as his mind raced through options. Though Kabnet was an ant to Frieza’s dinosaur, he hadn’t just been one of his trusted intel - he was a high-ranking soldier, better than even Zarbon and Dodoria. Even with energy, it would take the Great Ape to topple him.

Raditz and Nappa eyed their superior anxiously, as their lives too hinged upon his decision. As Vegeta stared blankly, Kabnet impatiently tapped his foot. The prince’s bloodshot eyes told no tale.

Finally, after about a minute of stewing, Vegeta answered. "I'll think about it."

All those in the room blinked incredulously at Vegeta’s nonplussed response. 

" You’ll think about it ? What do you mean?" Kabnet demanded, a vein throbbing in his temple.

"What do you think? Changing allegiances is a heavy proposition…I'll think about my choices and get back to you." Vegeta said, as if they were exchanging stocks. Nappa and Raditz wanted to laugh – they knew this voice as well as his typical surly husk. A tone carried for occasions such as this.

Kabnet sighed. "Fine. But just make sure it’s the right answer. You," Kabnet directed, looking at his other assistant, "Make sure these Saiyans don't try anything funny, understood?"

"Yes, sir," the man said. Kabnet left the premises, leaving him alone with the three Saiyans.

Vegeta had told only a half-truth. He would think, but certainly not about Kabnet’s alliance. They’d be dead as soon as the ink dried. Instead, his mental energy went towards an escape route. Without his energy, he had only his ingenuity; a hurdle for a brainless oaf like Nappa, but an easy lap for Vegeta and Raditz.

The two smarter Saiyans exchanged glances with each other; they couldn’t risk whispering and they didn’t know telepathy, so they could communicate only with body language. Raditz nodded and directed his head to the posturing guard in front of their cell.

"Hey, green man,” Raditz asked in a greeting tone. “What brings you to Kabnet’s side?”

“What’s it to you, Saiyan?!” The soldier snapped. “I am a loyal soldier and have utmost faith in Kabnet’s ability to dethrone Frieza.”

Raditz responded with only a light-hearted chuckle. “ Loyalty, huh? Might I ask what Kabnet did to earn your loyalty?”

“Your foul ranks wiped out my people and I was lucky to have been out in space when it happened! That’s all I need to explain to you bastards!”

Raditz laughed and raised his shackled arms in defense. “Okay, okay, no need to get your tights all bunched up.” Vegeta and Nappa almost chuckled. Their low-class ally’s gift of gab was well at work. “But I couldn’t help but notice that your skin color and those eyes looked familiar.”

“What are you talking about?!” the guard asked, his golden eyes flickering with curiosity as he stepped closer to the bars.

“In fact, if I’m not going crazy, I think there’s quite a few people like you in Frieza’s ranks, right Vegeta?”

Vegeta briefly cocked a confused eyebrow towards his cohort but figured out his game and rolled with it. “Indeed they are, Raditz. A whole lot of them, in fact.”

“What the hell do you mean?!” the soldier said, angry tears welling in his eyes at the memory of his people.

“What was your planet called, again?” Raditza asked, stroking his chin in thought. “It’s on the tip of my tongue…”

Feeling disarmed, despite the weapon in his hand, the soldier answered in hush, shaky tones. “Planet K-Kaffir.”

Like he’d just hit the jackpot, Raditz yelped and snapped his fingers. “Of course, that’s why some folks kept calling them ‘Kaffy’s!’”

Growing hostile the longer the Saiyans went on, the Kaffir soldier stomped his foot against the floor and aimed his gun closer to Vegeta; Vegeta didn’t even flinch. “Enough! What are you saying, huh?!”

“What we’re saying is, Kabnet’s selling you wolf tickets,” Vegeta explained, elaborating on Raditz’s story.

“Did Kabnet ever tell you what exactly happened? Because he was still in our army when those Kaffy folks started showing up,” Raditz began as the soldier trembled, his face drenched in sweat.

“Wh-What?!” The lime-skinned soldier gasped.

“ Kabnet killed your people,” Raditz said, taking in the Kaffir’s horrified shriek upon hearing his words. “He recruited the strongest of your clan to lead a purge and sold what was left of the planet off.”

“In fact, that coup was how he earned his high rank with Frieza,” Vegeta added.

“N-No…! That can’t be!” the soldier desperately shouted, as his grip on his gun loosened.

“It is . They’ll even tell you themselves,” Raditz said as he twisted the proverbial knife with his cruel smirk. “They bragged about it - the look of horror on their countrymen’s faces when they realized the betrayal. Their last gasps for breath as the life drained from them. Destroying what they called a bunch of ugly, rustic buildings.”

The soldier dropped his gun and staggered back, feverishly shaking his head as he felt his strength leave him. 

“They killed your friends, boy,” Raditz said, his eyes illuminating a grave darkness that crumbled the Kaffir soldier’s resolve into a misshapen ball. “Your family, your loved ones. They did it, and they laughed.”

He forced his eyes shut and squeezed the strands of his hair black hair, wanting to shut out the pain of his words but unable to resist them. All he could envision was the screams of his parents and his brothers and sisters, staring helplessly into the eyes of men he thought were his peers.

“That’s right. They loved the power Kabnet gave them,” Vegeta said. He sat up and stepped forward, looking the anguished guard in the face with his stern, obsidian eyes.

“So I ask you - are you willing to work for the man who wiped out your people and lied about it?”

The Kaffir soldier looked down at his gun, and then back to the three probing Saiyans. He thought deeply about Kabnet, and the information he’d been given. Kabnet pulled him out of despair, yes; but at the end of the day, he was running the same operation as Frieza. They weren’t in the game of liberating planets - they were subjugating them.

Of course Kabnet was capable of an act as cruel as wiping out his people and lying about it to manipulate him.

“Dammit!” he yelled as he collapsed to his knees, despair overtaking him.

“I’m not saying join Frieza or anything like that,” Raditz said, his voice calming in its approach. “But we can help you get your vengeance on Kabnet.”

Never letting his eyes leave the ground, the Kaffir warrior pushed the button and relinquished the cell bars. Nappa and Raditz stood back up and the three Saiyans approached him as he shook. 

“Do you know how to get us out of these cuffs?” Raditz asked. “We don’t have much time.”

Through tear-stained eyes, the Kaffir warrior looked up at Raditz. “Just promise me you’ll let me escape when this is over.”

With a gaze of utmost conviction, Raditz nodded. “You have my word.”

The soldier removed his glove, as the shackles were programmed to read fingerprints. He placed his thumb on the right side of Raditz’s right cufflink, unlocking it. Raditz tossed the cuff away like soggy food, stretching his arms as the Kaffir soldier freed Vegeta and Nappa as well.

“Now how do we get out of here?” Vegeta asked, dusting himself off.

“I’ll lead the way,” Kaffir said. He paced forward, standing in front of the three Saiyan warriors.

And then Vegeta grabbed him by his hair, thrusted him forward and drove his fist through his back and out his chest like a javelin. He removed his hand - ignoring the purple blood running down it - and tossed the naive soldier’s corpse to the floor like a ventriloquist dummy.

“What a rube,” Raditz snickered, watching the lifeless eyes of the lying cadaver.

“I’ve never heard of no Kaffir people, though,” Nappa remarked, hands to his waist as he mulled over the story. “I’ve never seen anybody that looks like him running around, either.”

“That’s because we made up the whole story, nimrod!” Raditz said while Vegeta laughed at the top of his lungs. While Nappa peevishly folded his arms and growled, he didn’t act against the weaker Saiyan’s slight.

Vegeta had to hand it to Raditz - he was a weakling, but could lie on his feet like no other. As soon as he got the gist of what he was angling for, Vegeta hopped on and helped sell it.

"So, what do we do now? These guys have a whole army, and we don't know our way around this place. And without our scouters, we can't reach anyone," Raditz said. There was a hint of anxiety in his voice. "And I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I don't feel all of my power coming back to me yet."

Vegeta deviously smirked at Raditz. "Come on, now; has my intelligence ever failed us before?"

Gohan tried to wiggling himself loose, but it was no use.

The vengeful Nalos decided to hook Gohan’s chains to the ceiling of the bright, padded room he’d dragged him into. It was a position that Gohan had grown distressingly familiar with; Frieza’s grueling punishment poured through his mind. Nalos had left him to hang there, in search of instruments that he could wield to gruesomely torture Gohan for his sadistic pleasure.

So this was the true meaning of karma, Gohan realized. He’d only ravaged Planet Zuna because of the grave hostility they brought him, but violence beget violence. 

He would still fight his way through, however. This wasn’t Frieza, where he knew he would have to face him another day and deal with even worse consequences for his resistance. He would do whatever he could to disrupt what Nalos had in store for him.

Gohan heard footsteps off in the distance and furrowed his brows, bracing himself for a struggle. Soon, he heard...whistling? Just great. This guy was treating the ensuing torture like a leisure activity.

The figure who entered the doorway wasn’t whom he expected, however. She was about his height, if a little taller. She was dressed like an athlete, with puffy black sweats and a grey tank top. In fact, she actually looked like a regular human - pale skin of the same shade as Gohan’s, black hair tied up in a ponytail, and eyes that shined pale-blue like a crystal.

But, frighteningly, she held a long, steel fork in her hand, one that surged with electricity.

“Ah, shit,” she said, wincing at Gohan as he hung from the ceiling. “Nalos ain’t tell me it was just a lil’ guy.”

Ignoring her innocent appearance, Gohan scowled at her; he figured she was sent to assist Nalos on the job. However, her eyes were carrying a peculiar apprehension.

“Sheesh, what’d you do to get on Nalos and Kabnet’s shitlist?” she asked, her accent sounding like a weird blend of his parents' rural vernacular and Jeice’s.

Despite her apparent concern, Gohan averted his eyes from her and didn’t offer an answer. He was honestly too ashamed to say it, even though he’d all but bragged about it in front of the Saiyans. Finding himself face-to-face with the consequences soured his outlook.

As she stared at Gohan, she noticed the furry, brown appendage sticking out from his back; it made her eyes light up in realization. “Look, you don’t gotta tell me nothin’, okay?”

“What?” Gohan finally answered with an inquisitive glance. 

He soon felt Nalos’ ki draw near, and moments later, he entered the room wielding a chainsaw while he glared at the little girl in front of him. Gohan gulped at the sight - his dad had snuck in enough horror movies for Gohan to know what that weapon meant.

“Arepa, what are you doing?!” Nalos yelled, revving up the chainsaw. “Don’t just stand there! Useless brat...”

Rather than listen, Arepa simply stood where she was, mimicking what she assumed his yelling face looked like as his back was turned. Gohan nearly cracked a smile.

“If you’re going to be useless, then stand aside,” Nalos said, almost bumping her as he stalked ahead. Pure madness filled his eyes as he revved up his chainsaw again, his cheeks being pulled all the way back by a grin that exposed all of his sharp teeth. “Now, monkey, you shall suf-”

The girl - Arepa - leaped up, grabbed Nalos’ head, and snapped his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground. On top of that, the chainsaw fell in such a way that it sliced off most of his left arm on the way down, splattering the wall in his blood.

If Gohan weren’t six feet above the ground, his jaw would have sank into it. Ignoring his stupefied gawking, Arepa fired a small blast at the chain holding Gohan in the air, breaking it to pieces. After he landed on his knees, Arepa walked up to him and pressed her thumb against his right cuff, unlocking it. Gohan could only stare blankly, not even thinking to thank this seemingly average girl for helping him.

Arepa plaised her hands on her waist and impatiently glared at Gohan. "Ya just gonna stare at me all day or what? Get up!" She flung her arm upward to punctuate herself.

Gohan nervously laughed as he removed his cuffs and stood back up. "Uh…thanks."

"Don't mention it," she shrugged. "I'm Arepa, by the way."

Gohan nodded. "Why did you save me?"

With a sigh, Arepa said, “I’ve been in that spot before, y’know. It’s one thing when it’s a grown-up, but seein’ another lil’ tyke like me stuck there jus’ got me all wound up.”

Gohan watched her as she stared at the hook in the ceiling. Her eyes twitched with anger as it brought memories similar to what Gohan had experienced in that position. She shook it off and turned to Gohan, who impishly looked away.

“Plus, I could tell from that tail that you’re a Saiyan,” she said to Gohan’s surprise. “My pops tol’ me he met a Saiyan way back when he used to travel through space.” In a gesture, she spread her arms high above her head. “Said his hair stuck out like a palm tree and he had a scar on his face.”

A palm tree, huh?

“He said the guy could pund back like 80 beers and not even feel tipsy! Name was Bur- somethin’.” While she recounted the tale of the Saiyan merrily, her head sunk somberly soon after. “My dad had a lot o’ cool stories, ‘til Kabnet killed him. I flipped it out and revealed my power, and now here I am.” She looked down at her hand and balled it up into a fist.

“Bastard always goes on about the Saiyans bein’ the toughest dudes in Frieza’s army - so I figured if Frieza’s goons are here, that’s my ticket out.”

Gohan just stared at the ground, his eyes full of sorrow. While he definitely felt bad for the girl, he also felt sorry for himself; her plight was a painful reminder of his own.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Arepa asked.

“Son Gohan.”

“Well, Gohan, let’s get the hell outta here!”

Gohan could only blink, wondering how a girl that couldn’t have been much older than he could stay so chipper in similar circumstances to his. He shrugged it off and punched the air, relieved to no longer be bound. His arms moved as free as ever, though his Ki was a different story; it was slow to return. Not only was he nowhere near the peak of his power, but he was still reeling from the explosion and crash.

Arepa tossed a bottle at him, which Gohan easily caught. "Yeah, those shackles are a bitch, huh? Just drink this and you should feel normal.”

Gohan looked down at the bottle and removed the cap. He inspected the fluid floating within the bottle, wondering if this were all her elaborate setup. He looked back up at her - she just gawked at him with bright, glimmering eyes. Did she even notice his suspicions? 

Deciding she seemed too innocent to dupe him, Gohan took a sip of the liquid. Almost instantly, his Ki rushed back to him, though it did nothing to alleviate his injuries.

Just to test his power out, he fired a bright Ki blast right at the shackles. It vaporized them in an instant.

“Perfect!”

"Pretty cool, huh? That drink brings back all of the energy in you," Arepa remarked. "O’ course, I ain’t too shabby myself." Arepa raised her arm up and aimed it at the door across from her. A yellow Ki blast fired from her hand reduced it to space dust.

"Whoa, you really are strong," Gohan observed.

Arepa sighed and looked at Gohan like he was slow. "Well, duh, that’s why I’m in Kabnet’s army." Arepa grabbed Gohan's wrist. "Now, hurry up!"

Chapter Text

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally there was a time where Vegeta found himself at a loss.

As the Saiyan Prince crawled through the vents of the large fortress that trapped him, with Raditz and Nappa on his trail, he tried to devise a plan for dealing with Kabnet. 

They were outnumbered. Scouters gone. Gohan captured, possibly dead. Spaceships destroyed. And Kabnet was a Ginyu-level threat.

Worst of all was Vegeta’s power dilemma. Raditz hadn’t just been speaking for himself when he said his power was slow to return. It had taken Vegeta an alarmingly large effort just to fire a blast that could blow a hole in the ceiling. In his current state, he couldn’t even take a full-throttle Nappa. The flame-haired Saiyan had always prided himself in his cunning, but his doubt crept up on its ability to overcome this pinch as he crawled through the cold vents.

The Great Ape was his only option. But that was burying the lede - how the hell were they going to get off the planet if it worked? Common sense would say the planet was rife with space pods, but the Ape and its destructive power made things dicey. What if they destroyed them all? Just one wayward blast, one outburst from the ill-controlled Raditz, and they’d be stranded. Coercing one of the low-level peons was an option, but that posed its own problem:

I could never show my face on that damn base asking Frieza to clean up my mess , Vegeta thought to himself, a scowl bending his face. The incorrigible humiliation aside, there were few things Frieza hated more than doing actual work, as asinine as it sounded. He and his men would be due a hell of a punishment. 

On top of that, it would be their word vs. Boysen’s. No mole digs around with no outs.

These were the times he cursed his tail. He saw the armor Kabnet and those two others wore - their formal attire, obviously. Another option would have been assuming those outfits himself and destroying the army from the inside, but their tails would give them away.

Feh, no use dwelling on it, now. It's not like luck is ever on my side, anyway…

As he kept crawling, Vegeta could overhear something underneath the vent. He froze in the middle of the cramped space and lowered his head so he could get a clearer listen.

A loud thud. "What do you mean the Saiyans are gone?" a voice shouted. Kabnet’s for sure.

"Sir, I am not mistaken – the shackles were all lying on the floor and the guard overseeing them was dead!" the other man answered, his voice panicked, “On top of all that, there was a hole in the ceiling.”

More thuds. "So you saw a hole in the ceiling and didn’t think, to, I dunno, climb it and follow them ?”

"Well, sir-"

The apparent sound of an energy blast and a fatal scream reached Vegeta’s ears. "Shrewd little monkeys! Peconne; send an alert to all soldiers to meet outside immediately! Those Saiyans aren't getting out of here alive. As soon as they come out, we will blast them to kingdom come!"

“Shit,” Vegeta whispered as sweat dripped down his head.

Nappa and Raditz heard the conversation as well, and anxiously looked ahead to their master. When Vegeta overheard emphatic footsteps drifting further from earshot, he looked over his shoulder at his two subordinates. They were as confused as he.

Feeling all the frustration swelter, Vegeta growled like a rabid wolf, slamming his fist against the bottom of the vent hard enough to leave a dent. 

"Dammit, they're onto us! Well if these bastards want a war, then a war they will get!”

His sanity checking out, Vegeta mustered up as much strength as presently available to blast a hole in the vent and jump into the room beneath. Though Nappa and Raditz exchanged confused glances, they followed their prince’s frenzied lead. 

Not even acknowledging the feathery, beaked avian alien squawking at him following his tumble, Vegeta reached the door at the end of the room in the blink of an eye and slammed it shut.

The frazzled staffer reached out to jam his finger into a button on the large control panel in front of him, but a fuzzy brown tail coiled his neck when his finger was just a centimeter away. He faintly grabbed whatever squeezed his neck as he wheezed for air.

"Don't even scream," warned the chilling voice behind him, almost directly into his ear.

The bird-headed alien, Peconne, drifted his eyes left into the object of his worst nightmares - a snarling, flame-headed Saiyan warrior. Veget’s glare was downright murderous, his eyes harboring an intense bloodlust. He raised his right hand, engulfed in glowing Ki shaped like a blade, until it was just inches from Peconne’s beak.

"You are to do exactly as I say, understand?" Vegeta ordered.

No answer. So Vegeta tightened his tail’s grip around Peconne’s throat.

"UNDERSTAND?"

The bird weakly nodded. Satisfied with his answer but amused by his struggle, Vegeta relinquished his grip around Peconne’s neck with a snicker. 

"Now then, I have some good news for you; you're about to participate in your first battle." He announced it like a wistful afternoon reporter.

“Your answer to the question I am about to ask will determine how many more seconds you draw breath.” Even in the face of Peconne’s panicked shudders, Vegeta’s ironclad gaze wouldn’t yield. “What is your role in Kabnet's army? You don’t look like any fighter to me.”

Peconne didn’t coherently answer, only stuttering while the words failed to reach. Having previously been a scientist from Cooler’s branch, he’d heard stories of Vegeta and the Saiyans even before Kabnet; and quite frankly, they undersold the man. With patience for his hesitance, Vegeta seared his wrist with a small but vicious energy blast. Following an agonized shriek, Peconne finally said, "T-top scientist…please don't kill me…"

Intrigued, Vegeta leaned back and smirked. "Scientist, huh? So how far does your genius go? Did you design those disgraceful shackles that my men and I were locked in?"

"Y-yes, I designed that," Peconne hoarsely answered, tending to his injured wrist, "Blueprinted all of the technology and weaponry…this army employs…"

"Really, now?" Vegeta asked, his voice glowing with curiosity. "So suffice to say - you’re invaluable to his army, aren’t you?"

Peconne nodded, which was all the answer Vegeta needed. He and his two cohorts exchanged looks with each other in silent conversation. Without warning, Vegeta hauled Peconne up by his wounded wrist and audaciously blasted the window across the room to pieces. 

Dragging Peconne helplessly behind him, Vegeta advanced stepped forward to observe the scene out below the orange sky. There were soldiers – hundreds of them. All of them donning armor with a variety of weapons in tow. When that window shattered, all of their heads lifted up, and then all of them scowled when Vegeta revealed himself from the windowsill.

Kabnet stood in front of the swathe of soldiers, the angriest of them all. “So you’ve finally shown yourself, Vegeta! You were a fool not to join me!” With a twisted grin, he turned to face his loyal soldiers. “Now, men?!”

"Not so fast!" Vegeta boomed from above. He swung Peconne out in front of himself, blithely dangling Kabnet’s prized technical genius above the windowsill like a diamond above a raging flame. "It is to my understanding that this rooster in my hands is the architect of all the weapons your men wield! Unless you want to see all of your future progress go straight to hell, I suggest you fall back!"

Circumstances had gone to the left of Kabnet’s expectation. ‘Cunning’ was the last word he thought he’d use for a brutish Saiyan, but that’s what was displayed before him. He’d gathered the soldiers expecting the Saiyans to resort to their loathsome Giant Apes and leave themselves open to wide range missiles. Instead, they were playing the hostage game?

Though he dangled precariously, Peconne quivered in Vegeta’s grip. If he had known he would be used as leverage like this, he would have never even mentioned his scientific prowess. There was not a doubt in his mind that Vegeta would follow through on any threat made.

To Nappa and especially Raditz, Vegeta’s actions warranted admiration. "Yeah, that's more like it, Vegeta! Always a step ahead!" Nappa remarked.

Triumph filled Vegeta’s smug face. Right where he wanted them, with no wild apes needed. "Now, onto my demands. Not only will you show me how to get off of this planet - you will have your little bitch Boysen fess up to his misdeeds and I’ll see to it he mentions not a word about you.” Not that he cared to ensure it, but he was working here. “You attack me, and birdman here dies before you or any of those rodents can reach me.”

On top of his shrewd threats, Vegeta made sure to leave himself inside with Nappa and Raditz watching his six; Kabnet struck him as the sniper type.

Kabnet had to admit it. The Saiyan was more than just smart, he was brilliant. But one problem - there was no way he could trust Vegeta to completely hold out on his end of the bargain. He knew Vegeta to be the spiteful type; in other words, the kind that had no problem leaving his fate in Frieza’s hands.

Finding himself at a standstill, Kabnet realized it was time for the as of yet unfinished nuclear option. He pressed a button in the center of his armor...

As Arepa led Gohan away from the torture room, she killed any solider that came their way. Being a rookie, she was far from the strongest among the ranks; so she relied on stealth and avoided popular hangouts. With her pep it was a challenge, but Gohan kept up with her frenetic pace.

Arepa busted a door open, startling a soldier who sat atop a stool in the far corner of the room it led to. The sight of him stopped the two children dead in their tracks. Even from his seat, his enormous size and missile-like arms instantly captured the eye. 

The soldier narrowed his eyes at Gohan specifically. The tail, the armor…he was…

"One of Frieza's men!"

Gohan assumed a defensive position whilst the soldier leaped from his stool to attack. As the soldier dove, he reached for a gun from his pocket. Noticing before the tunnel-visioned Gohan, Arepa leaped ahead. Both Gohan and the soldier halted in surprise at the girl standing in between them.

"Oh no ya don't! Ya gonna have to go through me first!" she shouted.

With a dismissive scowl, the burly soldier only said, "You turncoat twerp! Get out or get gunned!"

“Gun me, then!”

Not wanting the girl in his sight for another second, the soldier pulled the trigger. To Gohan’s shock, she took the shot head-on; right to her left shoulder. She clutched it as she screamed and sank to her knees, whilst gently Gohan grabbed her and stared dismally at her wound.

The soldier smirked maniacally and fixed his eyes on the little Saiyan. "Your turn, kid…"

"F-forget about me…" Arepa muttered. Pointing his scornful glare at the man behind the gun, Gohan emphatically stepped away from Arepa. His dark eyes sparkled with enough anger to make even the musclebound tank of a soldier wilt before him.

"You'll pay for that!" Gohan spat through his teeth.

A half-second later and Gohan had the soldier spiraling backwards from a punch delivered with free shipping & handling to his jaw. The feeling of that man’s clavicle cracking against his knuckle had been quite welcome. Having been leveled by the pint-sized force, the soldier flew through the wall and didn’t stop until his back smacked the wall at the end of the next room.

"Holy shit," Arepa muttered, her pain giving way to awe while she squinted at the broken man sitting stiffly against the wall with his neck dangling. Though she hadn't seen much in her short life, she sure as hell knew what made a corpse. And that was from one single punch.

Gohan knew it, too; the empty gaze reminded him of the piles of bodies he’d left on Planet Zuna - the bodies that triggered this mess. Those blank eyes, the slumped head, the occasional yelp from gases leaving the body. To his displeasure, Gohan found himself fixated on the blood spilling from the soldier's mouth. Yet another addition to his already millions-high body count.

But he challenged Gohan, and was weaker than him. And thus, he fell.

"Uh, Gohan, I'm a li’l hurt here!" Arepa yelled, snapping Gohan out of his haze.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Gohan sheepishly replied while he turned to Arepa and slung her slumped arm above his to lift her up. Out of odd principle, he refused to tear off his sleeve to cover a bleeding wound for the third damn time; so he looked around. "Is there any medical room or something close by?"

"Hell if I know," Arepa wheezed. "Who cares? Just wrap me up with the guy’s shirt or somethin’.”

"If you say so…" Gohan said with a sigh as he let Arepa go, scurried over to the dead soldier and tactlessly tore his shirt off. Arepa limped towards Gohan and allowed him to wrap the shirt around her arm, pressing down on it to curb any more blood loss.

With the knot tight, Arepa did what any normal person would do with an injured shoulder; she punched air. Her impudence nearly made Gohan stumble on his face. "Shouldn't you give your arm time to rest?"

Arepa just kept punching, snorting in disgust. "Please. I ain’t nowhere near your level but I’m still one tough cookie!"

"If you say so," Gohan said with a shrug. He looked across to the left side of the room at a closed door. "So, what's that door lead to?"

After throwing one last punch, Arepa followed Gohan’s line of sight and ponderously brought her hand to her chin. "Hmm…if I remember this place right…that's the armory. Let's check." 

She brushed past Gohan and kicked the door down, revealing a vast hall with shelves on each side filled top to bottom with tools - guns, helmets, stray parts of armored vehicles, and various other weaponry.

"Well if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck..." Arepa said as she ran inside with Gohan close behind. The various weapons intrigued him; sure, Kabnet's army was every bit the lost cause that Vegeta condemned it to be, but there was no denying the preparation. It was like the armories he’d seen in history books but leagues more advanced. 

Curiosity got the best of Gohan as he watched Arepa sift messily through the shelves. "So, how'd you end up here, anyway?”

Arepa hopped down from the high aisle she’d been scouring and dusted her clothes off. "Well, if you really wanna know, whatever. It happened ‘bout...a year ago, I think?" she began, squinting as she tried to recall the experience. "Anyway, my pops liked to travel through the galaxy– that's how he met that Saiyan – and once I grew outta crawlin' he took me along for the ride. So one day we went to this really cool planet that had all sorts o' gadgets that my pops liked.”

Arepa took a deep breath and blinked. "Only problem was, Kabent was in the middle of takin' it over. My pops managed to keep us hidden ‘til some soldier found us. Asshole broke my fav’rite toy, too, and I wasn’t havin’ that.”

"So what did you do?"

"I killed him, duh," Arepa replied like she’d been asked the sky color. "Only problem with that was, Kabnet saw the whole thing and figured, ‘Well that girl’ll be a sweet pickup, huh?’" Arepa had been unnervingly peppy describing the story, but that soon changed as her eyes wilted from regret. "My pops refused...so he killed him. And that’s when I really lost it.”

Gohan could see her balled up fists trembling as she recounted the story. He wasn’t the only kid in the universe feeling trapped and sorrowful, it appeared.

"And I’ve been here since then, I guess. Kabnet likes to lay low so I take shit out on the weaker folks around here," Arepa said, her enthusiasm returning. "What about you?”

"Kinda similar to yours, except my dad wasn’t killed. But, the guys that took me aren’t that bad to be around. They don’t treat me like garbage, at least,” Gohan said, his own hand curling up. “It’s our boss, Frieza. It’s the same with you and this Kabnet guy. The other Saiyans found me because they’re trying to take him down.”

“Gnarly,” Arepa said with a grin. She playfully slapped Gohan’s shoulder. “You’re alright, kid.”

Gohan looked down at the hand of his shoulder with a smile. Like with Lemo and Kiyomi, he found himself at ease. It lifted his spirits to be around a kid his age who knew what he was going through, especially one who seemingly stayed on the bright side.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go look for the ultimate weapon. Trust me, it's a doozy," Arepa said as she jumped up to another high shelf. "I've only heard about it, though. Kabnet only lets really special people that he trusts in here 'cause it’s so strong, so I've never seen it. It’s his trump card against Frieza."

That strong, huh? Gohan thought. With how much Kabnet had invested in technology, Gohan figured the weapon had to harness large-scale destructive capabilities for Kabnet to only trust a few people with it. 

Arepa shuffled through the shelves, letting other tools fall to the floor. She finally came across a forest-green box branded with a skull and crossbones. She tried to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Shit, no dice on this thing,” she said. Gohan walked over to observe it.

“Hmm, looks like it’s encrypted,” Gohan said, his eyes darting to a glowing stub at the box’s center. He squinted to observe it more studiously. “If it’s anything like those jail cells, I bet only a specific thumbprint can open it.”

Arepa tapped it with her thumb, but it glowed a rejecting red light. “Yup, looks like it. Well, why don’tcha just smash the thing, then?”

“It could be a bomb or something,” Gohan said. “If I make the wrong move, it might blow us up.”

Nevertheless, Gohan took the box out of Arepa’s hands and flipped it around. If the box were encrypted, then obviously it was electronic. He flipped it onto its underside and pried the bottom paneling open to reveal the circuit board. With his focus on figuring out the complexities of the wiring, Gohan flipped the box back to the button, and then back to the board. His eyes were narrowed in laser-like focus, putting some of the lessons he learned from Lemo and Kiyomi to the test.

After one last once-over to the button, Gohan undid one single plug from the board. The box popped open.

“Wha...how?!” Arepa asked, her jaw agape.

“I could kinda pick up the vibrations of the electric signal the button gave off,” Gohan explained. “So I traced it back to the specific wire and gave it a shot.”

“Sheesh…” Arepa said, though Gohan’s technical finesse - while cool - wasn’t the important matter. Instead, that was the weapon lying inside the box that made her and Gohan gasp.

“A grenade!”

After Kabnet pressed down on his armor, it emitted a bright, orange glow that captured the attention of both the troops standing behind him and Vegeta. An abundance of wires exploded from the suit, surrounding Kabnet and ballooning in size.

Though he didn’t let go of Peconne, Vegeta’s body went limp at the sight unfolding. Kabnet looked ahead with a twisted grin as the cables expanded around him and elevated him higher into the air. Not only did the cables grow, they took formation. First, two legs that on their own were half the size of the building in which Vegeta stood. A torso that submerged Kabnet’s body came soon after, along with massive arms.

A head, shaped like a sphinx, topped this gargantuan cybernetic abomination. It released a flash of light that threatened to blind everyone in its vicinity. Still keeping Peconne in his right hand, Vegeta shielded his eyes with the left.

When Vegeta's eyes opened back up, they nearly popped out of his head.

A hundered-foot high mecha stood before him, Nappa and Raditz, in a sparkling orange-coated, blue-accented steel. Even Kabnet’s soldiers were in awe, having heard about this titanic weapon but never seeing it for themselves.

Vegeta couldn’t speak, only horrified breaths escaping his sunken jaw. Defying its immense mass, the robot smoothly bent down until its head was level with the windowsill Vegeta stood on. Through the glass of its head, Vegeta could see Kabnet’s cackling face.

“I’d like my scientist back now, Vegeta,” Kabnet said, his voice booming through the robot’s speakers.

It was his army’s most ambitious project - the KN-Titan. The pinnacle of their cybernetic research, but still incomplete. Kabnet’s arms were hooked up to cables, supplying the machine with his very own energy. The key to its further development was figuring out a way to not only how to power it with outside sources to make it invincible, but to do so without exhausting Kabnet to near death. But with Vegeta having him in a bind, he had to take the risk.

"What the hell is that thing?" Raditz said, his vocal cords feeling they were being tugged.

The mech gently lifted its right arm and extended its hand out to Vegeta. The Saiyan prince found himself stunned by the size of its palm alone - as wide as the craters his space pods left in planets’ surfaces. At the center of its palm, Vegeta could see the true reality of his circumstances grounded. Twenty-five years of subjecting himself to the indignity of being Frieza’s favorite puppet crumbled into its surface. Was this where his agonizingly patient journey lay to waste?

He lifted his eyeballs back up to the massive head before him.

“Well, I’m waiting.” Kabnet said, his smug voice shrouding Vegeta’s eardrums.

Vegeta’s eyebrows curled into a venomous glare.

No!

“WELL YOU BETTER CATCH HIM!”

Past the point of rationality, Vegeta chucked Peconne and his beaked head out of his hand and into the air like he were a spear. Though he was shocked enough to freeze for a moment, Kabnet spun his body around and reached out; the KN-Titan did the same, reaching out to catch its architect.

Vegeta spun around to his two frazzled companions. “NAPPA! RADITZ!” It was all he shouted before he dove out of the window. The two didn’t need any clearer direction for their next action. They followed Vegeta outside, and with what little energy they could gather, all fired immense Ki blasts at the cybernetic Titan.

Even while taking the impact of the explosive blasts, the KN-Titan took little damage. Though he was hard to see, Kabnet found Peconne courtesy of the scouter-like sensors implanted all throughout the Titan that could detect someone’s power level. It caught Peconne at the peak of his flight and used its wiring to absorb him into its hand and funnel him into the head where Kabnet stood.

However, Vegeta wasn’t seeking to deal significant damage; he only sought a significant enough distraction for his trump card. Along with Nappa and Raditz, Vegeta landed on the ground below. While his two subordinates brought the fight to the incoming army, Vegeta stood crouched with his arm raised, pouring out every last ounce of energy within him to form a ball of light from his palm.

When Kabnet finally regained his bearings, his heart skipped a beat at the display transmitted on the screen ahead of him. He knew exactly what Vegeta’s stance meant: the artificial moon to trigger his Great Ape form. 

Recognizing his master’s panic, Peconne spoke into a microphone attached to the collar of his shirt.

"Parmesia, do you hear me? You must prevent the Saiyans' transformation!"

Vegeta could see the ball before him expand in size. Though his ploy worked, he was beyond furious at just how much time the damned ball was taking him. With his handicapped reserves, it took considerably more effort to gather up the sufficient amount of energy to mix with the planet’s atmosphere. Nappa and Raditz urged him on, their focus halfway between the soldiers and Vegeta’s struggle.

After moments that felt like hours, it finished. Vegeta smirked – his chance for victory, at last! Even though he would be at a power disadvantage, there was no way even a giant machine could take three, perhaps four apes. All he had to do was shoot to the ball into the sky, and-

One of the sharpest pains Vegeta had ever felt in his entire life surged through his lower back. 

So badly it stung, that Vegeta relinquished the power ball entirely and sank to his hands and knees while his entire body throbbed. Coughing violently, Vegeta rolled over onto his back to see who or what dealt him such a blow. When the prince saw what lay down on the ground just inches from his face, he lost his ability to form words in his mouth.

My…my tail!

There it was, right in front of him. His tail had been cut off from behind him, a sneak attack courtesy of the woman who stood snickering above him, long hair waving against the wind as she held her sword in hand. When Vegeta made eye contact with the brash soldier, a tornadic rage touched down inside him. Never in his entire life had anyone possessed the unmitigated gall to remove his tail. 

The shame in which he had just been dealt washed away what little remained of Vegeta’s self-control. Releasing a scream that could be harnessed only by the universe’s wildest beasts, Vegeta rose to his feet. The woman took a swing with her instrument of indignity, but Vegeta swatted it out of her hands like it was made of plastic. His calloused hands wrapped around her throat and slammed her into the ground, squeezing so tightly the fabric around his gloves tore apart. Not even the blood she retched onto Vegeta’s face could disrupt his mania.

But the hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers drew while Vegeta raged on, stampeding past Nappa and Raditz. Crashing back into the rational world, Vegeta let go of the woman’s neck and stood up to face the swarm - before he slammed his foot on it to deliver an instant death for her grievous butchering of his Saiyan pride.

Though the planet’s conditions were accommodating, Vegeta’s breath was ragged. The power ball drained nearly all that remained of his power. His body still reeled from the explosively thwarted landing. All he had left? The fists clenched at his sides. Even if they would do him no good, he’d wield them to the end.

Kabnet just laughed amongst the wires connected to him. Sure, he was still pissed off for even having to resort to the KN-Titan, but it had decisively tipped the scales in his favor. He set his eyes to his right-hand man, Peconne.

“Excellent work with those Ki-Absorbing cuffs, Peconne,” Kabnet said. “It’s third to this giant and the grenade in your library of brilliance.”

“Of course, Lord Kabnet,” Peconne said, long forgotten his frightful brush with the Saiyan who was now vainly battling their swarm of soldiers.

With a roar that defied his odds, Vegeta charged into the stampede. He, Nappa, and Raditz focused on the weaker fighters, using their faint energy reserves to subdue them with blasts. While those ones were rendered lifeless, the more formidable just popped right back up. One particular fighter leveled Vegeta’s ribs with a knee that doubled him over while he sucked air. The soldier tried to follow his assault up, but Nappa blasted him away in just the knick of time. Vegeta silently thanked his oldest ally, but cursed that his weakness had gotten so far that he genuinely needed Nappa’s protection.

The Saiyans chugged along, but their massive disadvantage became more apparent with every passing second. Vegeta tried to back several men away with another blast, but it went over like a weak fart in the wind, barely moving them. As more fighters swarmed the Prince, he decided to just rely on his hand-to-hand skills. He elbowed the fighter closest to him in the ribs and kicked another one yards away. Two men knocked him back with just a shockwave, and though Vegeta stood his ground and struck both down with formidable punches, he couldn’t avoid a wayward energy blast to the face.

Vegeta hit the ground on his back. As soon as he even sat up, another indeterminable foot knocked back down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nappa and Raditz’s progress; they weren’t doing much better. Nappa’s size ensured he could barrel through large swarms, but they were taking their toll. And Raditz was getting stomped out by a gang of fighters

Though Vegeta managed to grab a foot that bore down on his head and used it to propel himself back up, a flurry of blasts sent him back down. Much like Raditz, Vegeta found himself getting trampled by a barrage of steel-toed boots. Vegeta’s grunts and hisses through the brigade weren’t just of agony - but anger; he could probably count on his hands how many times he’d felt this close to oblivion.

It was all a nightmare; that was it. He was going to wake up a sweaty heap on his cot any minute now, right?

As Gohan followed Arepa’s wade through the building, he could feel Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz’s Ki dwindling. “We’ve gotta hurry!” he screamed.

When they reached a large window, however, Arepa did just the opposite and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Ho-leeeeeee shit ,” she whispered, her eyes like goose eggs.

Gohan had been running with so much momentum he nearly skidded to a fall when tried to stop. “What are you do-”

Then he saw it, too - the enormous, orange and blue robot that stood before a seemingly endless sea of soldiers. “What in the world is that?!”

“The KN-Titan,” Arepa said, her voice still constrained by awe. “He’d been talkin’ a big game ‘bout it, but I thought it wasn’t s’posed to be finished yet.”

Trying to keep his eyes from wondrously gluing themselves to the gargantuan structure, Gohan stomped his foot and growled. 

“Well if it’s that big, it oughta be slow, so that makes him an easy target for the bomb!” Gohan’s eyes darted to the green grenade Arepa held in her hand.

“Nuh uh,” Arepa said. “I know it’s big but it ain’t no ordinary robot. It’s powered by the energy of whoever’s usin’ it. It’s s’posed to be as fast as they are.”

“What?!”

“I snuck in Pecan or whatever’s control room one day and saw the blueprints,” Arepa explained. “Shit’s got sensors all around, so there ain’t no sneakin’ up on it, neither.”

That hopeless feeling that often shackled Gohan made its ugly presence known again. He’d allowed himself to cross a moral line in the name of survival, but in that cybernetic beast, he could see that survival withering as fast as Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz’s ki signatures.

But it was those falling signals that shot urgency through Gohan’s veins.

“Whatever! My men are dying out there!” Gohan yelled, snapping Arepa out of her awestruck trance. He was about to smash a hole through the window until a light bulb went off in his head.

“Hey Arepa, does this building have, like, a basement?!”

Arepa scrunched her brows in thought. “Oh, right! Yeah, it should be a door waaaaaay at the end of the last floor. Why?”

At the end of the bottom floor? Gohan thought. Of course - the basement was the cellar he and the others had been locked up in. “Just go out there and distract him, alright?!” Gohan ordered.

“Wait, wha-” Before Arepa could finish, Gohan snatched the grenade out of her hand and ran off. She peevishly stomped her foot on the ground.

“Oh yeah, sure, ‘just go out and distract ‘im,” Arepa ranted to nobody in particular. “Ain’t like I’m in the middle of shittin’ my pants right now! Whatever…”

Nonetheless, Arepa blasted a hole in the window and leaped out of it, floating in the air. Getting an up-close view of the centuries high KN-Titan did little to quell her fears, but she was determined to not fail her new friend. She whipped out the only distraction she could think of: blasting the robot’s back.

The KN-Titan turned around and swatted the blast away before it even hit. Yup, that was the sensor, alright. 

Kabnet switched his screen from the action to the figure standing before the mecha. Arepa . What a belligerent little firecracker; always working his nerves, but with valuable potential. What the hell did she think she was doing?

"That better have been a test, little girl!" Kabnet shouted through the KN-Titan’s speakers.

Arepa didn’t give the answer Kabnet wanted, instead grinning and crassly flicking a booger at him. "Nuh uh, sorry! I just came out here to tell you that you suck, and I quit!"

The veins in his forehead swelling and his fists clenched, Kabnet growled ferociously. “You brat! How dare you!”

"Yeah, I said it; I don't want shit to do with you anymore!" Arepa signed off her resignation with a bold middle finger, though the sweat dripping down her head betrayed her true disposition. Any time now, Gohan!

"Fine! Consider this your severance!" Kabnet yelled as he lifted his, and in turn the Titan’s, arms. He was going to reduce that miniature miscreant into ashes with the most powerful blast he could muster. The already hefty toll the Titan had taken of his body made it a lengthy task to gather up the proper energy.

And that’s when Gohan exploded from underground, soaring high in the sky behind the KN-Titan.

The mechanical monster hadn’t moved an inch. Gohan pumped his fist; he’d correctly guessed that the “sensors” were like scouters and detected people though their “power levels.” Good thing he’d taught himself how to control and mask his Ki on Zuna.

He pulled the switch on the super-powered grenade in his hand and threw an All-Universe pitch. After the device that packed all his hopes left his hands, Gohan crossed his fingers…

Direct hit.

Kabnet never saw it coming. As soon as the grenade made contact with the KN-Titan, an astronomical explosion boomed through the atmosphere, filling the span of a mile with white light and smoke. The shockwave alone dispersed everything within its vicinity, forcing Gohan and Arepa down below; and mercifully blowing the soldiers away from their trampling of the Saiyans.

The light soon faded, while the smoke and ashes slipped into the skies. Where the KN-Titan once stood tall, now only a mile-wide pile of scraps lie. Kabnet and his trusted confidant, Peconne, were but ashes burned into the sand.

There was one figure who was the first of the hundreds of fighters to stand - he wore black armor with green plates, with long hair waving in the wind and tail that bristled back and forth. 

That boy, was Gohan.

When his breath returned, and his eyes fully absorbed the vacant scrap heap before them, Gohan swung both arms high.

"I DID IT!"

Though his body felt almost as wrecked as the KN-Titan, Vegeta somehow managed to stand back up, joining the sea of other awestruck warriors that included his partners. His jaw was frozen in place.

“G-Gohan…?!”

It was the first time he’d ever spoken the half-breed’s name. 

For one thing, he was shocked to find him alive. How had he escaped? How did he get the cuffs off? Actually never mind that:

How did he just destroy Kabnet?!

And how could somebody as powerful and resourceful as him have the same blood as Raditz?!

The sea of soldiers was stuck in a stunned silence. Did they really just see, with their own two eyes, Kabnet and his mech destroyed by a bomb thrown from a Saiyan child’s hands? Where did such a thing even come from?

"Gohan, ya cute lil’ son of a bitch!” yelled Arepa from the other side of the wreckage. Though Gohan did blush, there was a far more important matter at hand that his Ki sense had just picked up - 

A drill like beam heading right for Vegeta.

“VEGETA!” Gohan shouted as he took off.

Vegeta swung around. The spiraling beam raced to him faster than his body could allow. I-I can’t…!

However, Vegeta found himself on the dirt before it hit, a pair of diminutive legs kicking him down. He looked up, wondering who or what the hell had bailed him out.

It was Gohan, crouched down with his fists squeezed at his sides. Fortunately, he’d been short enough to both knock Vegeta out of the way and avoid the deadly drill’s path. The only thing it hit was a window on Kabnet’s fortress.

If he hadn’t been quick enough, Vegeta would have been dead.

Leaving no time for the soldiers to stampede, Gohan swung his arms back and unleashed a barrage of Ki blasts upon them. Unlike his allies, he had more than enough in store. 

Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz, who were all exhausted and lying on the ground, could only look on with wide-eyes. They’d never seen that shy, soft half-breed runt ever fight so efficiently, so effectively. They were as proud as they were stunned.

A smirk crept its way to Vegeta’s lips. He owed that whiny little bastard his life.

Gohan realized that he couldn’t hold these guys off with a few tiny blasts. An army called for an attack big enough to take them all out at once, and his father had shown him a move that could do it effectively. He ended his shower of blasts and instead focused diligently on all of the latent Ki within his body, power that even he hadn’t fully tapped into. Unleashing a burst of aura, Gohan managed to blow many of the soldiers back. The force of his Ki held them in place.

He crouched down, concentrating all of that Ki he’d worked so hard on mastering into the palms of his hands. He curled his arms back and cuffed them together.

"KA…ME…"

Explosive blue energy radiated around Gohan’s hands. The strange chants had piqued the curiosity of both Arepa and the Saiyans, Vegeta in particular; the stance was identical to his Gallick Gun.

"HA…ME…"

The glowing energy doubled in size. Gohan had summoned up so much power, the planet shook beneath him.

"HAAAAAAAAAAA!"

An enormous wave of Ki that could have rivaled all but Vegeta’s best attacks exploded from Gohan’s outstretched arms, engulfing every loyal Kabnet soldier who dared stand in its way. One by one, they fell. Those that didn’t fall became atoms that toiled away into the atmosphere. 

When the light and smoke faded, only a third of the bodies that had been present remained; and they all lifelessly rested on the ground.

Flabbergasted, Vegeta stood up to one knee, words escaping him.

“K-Kid, how the fuck…? ”

Unfortunately for Gohan, he’d expended so much energy that he couldn’t stand for much longer. He fell to his hands and knees, laughing triumphantly but also wheezing for air. His dad’s signature move was every bit as exhilarating to pull off as he thought it would have, and more .

It was the power he’d always wanted to wield.

Nappa managed to stand back up on both feet. “How strong is this little bastard, really ?”

Vegeta just shook his head incredulously, wondering how much more time he had as the strongest of the remaining Saiyans. A thought he wished to push back, but couldn’t quite seize.

Standing again, but with his hands planted on his knees, Gohan turned to face his older, full-blooded Saiyan allies. “You guys okay?”

“Does it look like it?” Vegeta asked, his typical snide mood having returned now that the worst was behind him.

“My bad,” Gohan replied with a weak laugh.

Raditz was the next to stand back up, dusting off his armor. “How the hell did you even manage to escape from that purple man, anyway? We thought you were a goner for sure.”

Before Gohan could answer, he could already see a bundle of energy storming to him.

“Gohan, you’re the friggin’ man !” Arepa yelled, meeting Gohan and slapping him on the shoulder. The half-Saiyan shrieked in pain, forcing her to stick her hands out with a weak smile. “Whoops, my bad!”

After rubbing his aching shoulder, Gohan pointed his thumb at the animated girl. “She saved me.”

Finally, Vegeta stood all the way back up, eyeing Arepa with his usual disinterest. “Hn. Figures you’d have another brat helping you.”

Arepa scowled, not appreciating the older Saiyan’s flippant dismissal. "Hey, I’ll have you know Kabnet recruited me! I bet I’d be good enough in Frieza’s army too!"

While Gohan shrugged, the other four Saiyans looked at each other and laughed. "Oh, this kid's a good one!" Nappa said. "Save it, brat."

Not letting their amusement towards her bluster her spirit, Arepa swept her finger under her nose with a haughty grin. “Bet ya won’t be laughin’ so much when I tell ya I know where Kabnet’s ship is.”

That earned the Saiyan’s intrigue. “A ship? Where?” Vegeta asked. “And you better be telling the truth, or else your life will end here.” 

The coldness in Vegeta’s black eyes left Arepa little doubt as to whom she was dealing with. Seeking to calm the tension, Arepa stuck her arms out and waved them around.

"Whoa, easy, shorty, easy-"

A vein nearly burst from Vegeta’s temple. Nobody mocked his height. The Prince of all Saiyans menacingly marched forward, murder on his mind. "Why, you little brat-!"

Though Gohan prepared to jump in the middle to thwart him, it was Raditz who wound up grabbing Vegeta’s shoulder to hold him back. His temper boiling, Vegeta glared at his subordinate.

“Easy now,” Raditz said. “I don’t appreciate this little shit’s tone anymore than you do, but think about it. If we bring her with us, she’ll be our witness to get Frieza off our ass.”

Vegeta only closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “Take your common hands off me.” 

Faster than Raditz could move, Vegeta swung around and punched him in the face. He landed on top of a dead soldier. Vegeta turned around to address him.

While he did that, Arepa poked Gohan in the ribs, then raised one hand high above her head and the other a good deal lower to illustrate the difference in height between Vegeta and the other two adults. Gohan lifted his hand to his lips to stifle his giggles.

After Raditz sat back up and rubbed his aching jaw, Vegeta folded his arms. “However, you do raise a good point.” He turned around to face the rowdy girl. “You, girl. How do I know you’re not leading us into a trap, firstly?”

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Arepa scoffed, actually offended by Vegeta’s suspicion. "If I was pullin’ the lid, I wouldn’ta saved Gohan or given him the bomb. Screw Kabnet!"

Vegeta sighed. The brat had a point, however chafingly she’d made it. Given her shrill immaturity, she was probably too dense to even come up with a scheme anyway. Still, he gave her eyes one thorough stare in search for a sign of deception. 

Finally, he relented, "Alright, lead the way.”

“Cool beans!” Arepa spun around to Kabnet’s fortress. “Follow me!”

The Saiyans followed the sprightly child into the sky, Raditz being the last to join as he continued attending to his throbbing jaw. After laughing at the lower-class when he caught up, Nappa raced ahead until he was next to Vegeta.

“So whaddaya think?” Nappa asked. “Sounds like Kabnet has a few planets out there. What should we do about the rest of them?”

“No matter,” Vegeta scoffed. “When word of Kabnet’s demise spreads, his whole army will collapse. Besides, this is Frieza’s mess now. When he figures out one of his own people was helping Kabnet, you know he’ll personally take care of what’s left.”

Nappa laughed. When they weren’t on the receiving end, Frieza’s glacial temper was hilarious to witness.

“And who knows? Maybe we’ll get a hefty reward for taking down one of his most wanted men.”

"Maybe even a promotion,” Nappa mused before snickering dismissively. “Nah, who am I kidding?”

Arepa led the Saiyans to an area behind the fortress they’d been captured in, where a domed purple and gold spaceship stood atop a platform. She floated down below with the Saiyans following soon after.

"Yup, it’s the big one alright," Arepa marveled. She darted to the ship and pushed the button that set off its entrance. A long, steel ramp unveiled itself and stopped just short of the party of five. "Well, come on in!" Arepa directed before hopping on the ramp. The Saiyans nodded and did as directed.

Just as Gohan was about to walk up the deck, however, a voice sprang to his head.

“Son Gohan?”

It was a voice of a deep, imposing timbre. Gohan looked around, wondering if his experience on this planet had driven him mad.

“Who’s there?!” he shouted out loud.

“I am speaking directly into your mind. I am Shenron, the Eternal Dragon of the Earth’s Dragon Balls.”

Gohan froze. His eyes nearly burst from their sockets.

The Earth’s Dragon Balls?

That could only mean…

“Your father, Son Goku, has wished for me to return you to Planet Earth. Such a wish is well within my power, but when it is for a being with no prior known location whose spirit I must search for, I will not do so without their permission.”

All breath escaped Gohan. His fingers twitched restlessly, as if his nerves had ceased to properly function. He couldn’t even see what was going around him anymore - it was as if the entire world was pitch black. Every last word the bass-rich voice spoke embedded itself into Gohan’s pulsing brain. 

This was real. His imagination had no concept of Shenron or the extent of its wish-granting capabilities. The Dragon Balls were just a cool thing his father had told him about and hunted down with him. One of them a prop for his hat. He’d never seen all seven gathered together. He’d never seen the ritual summoning.

This was real .

The escape he’d tried what felt like eons ago was now a split-second away. The consequences seemed fleeting when it was this close. Gohan opened his mouth, but words couldn’t escape it. Instead he clenched his teeth, beads of sweat forming and drizzling from his forehead.

He just stood there.

“Do you wish to return to Earth, Son Gohan?”

Chapter Text

"No."

And suddenly, the weight bearing down on Gohan's shoulders disappeared, but the nervous twitching of his fingers continued.

"Just...just tell him that you can't find me anywhere in the universe," Gohan said telepathically. "Not even in heaven, or whatever. Just say whatever would make him stop looking for me."

He regained enough control of his fingers to curl them into his fists as a vein swelled in his forehead.

"Just don't tell him I refused, okay?" Funny - his internal voice was just strained as his actual vocal passageway. A tear dropped from the corner of his eye. "Please."

"Understood. Farewell."

And with that, the voice left Gohan's head. The blackness his mind created around him ceased, but a second later became physical when Gohan fiercely shut his eyes in a futile effort to well the tears spilling from them. Restless breath escaped his clenched teeth as he shuddered, trying and failing to compose himself.

It had been a far more difficult decision than his one from months earlier. That was out of preservation; for himself, and for Earth. An unwilling, anguished resignation to his fate. This wasn't quite that.

This was a rejection.

Yes, he knew Earth would be the first place they looked. But his purpose was no longer at his home; with his father, his mother, his grandmother, or all the friends he'd been introduced to on that day.

Gohan was the son of Goku and Chi-Chi. But he was also a Saiyan - a Saiyan who would one day defeat Frieza. Earth offered no recourse to what he needed to do, or what he needed to be, to see that goal.

Coming to grips with the truth was tougher than any ordeal Frieza or the Saiyans had dealt him. But it needed to happen, and getting confronted with it directly helped Gohan finally put his foot down and accept his life.

And hopefully, the closure would help his family move on.

After a deep breath, Gohan let his eyes open. His vision became clearer, and not simply because of his tears evaporating. But an impatient, flame-haired figure stood in front of the space ship's entryway.

"Gohan!" Vegeta shouted, his arms folded and his foot tapping the steel deck. Gohan wasn't used to hearing his name spoken from that voice. "The hell are you still standing out there for? Haul ass and get in, unless you're trying to escape again."

Vegeta's remark was far more flippant than probing, but nonetheless more prescient to Gohan's mind than he could ever know. The half-Saiyan looked up at Vegeta with his brows furrowed - not a glare, but a steely gaze.

"No. I'll escape when Frieza's dead."

And with that, Gohan stepped forward.

Gohan had never been as nervous as he was when he stood in that shadowy, pink illuminated room. Accentuating his nerves was the excruciating soreness running through his body, the after effects of the errant landing on Linden settling in. He looked up to his right, where Nappa and Raditz alternated between standing still and doubling over with grimaces over their faces. They'd gotten a far rougher deal in the battle with Kabnet than Gohan, and their bodies were making them pay as they worked overtime to recover. Only Vegeta managed to stand consistently upright, but his glassy, half-lidded eyes were a glimmer of the inflammation smoldering every inch of his body.

On his left, Arepa. She appeared to be prying her eyes away from the baleful lizard ahead of her.

"So what you are telling me, Vegeta," Frieza said through a guarded tone, assessing the report he'd just been given as he stirred his wine back and forth. "Is that the assignment was a trap placed by Boysen in alignment with Kabnet?"

"Yes, sir." Vegeta's voice ran ragged.

"A lofty accusation, my dear prince. And I presume this girl was among his ranks?" Frieza asked as his mercurial eyes settled on the abnormally bashful Arepa. "You've covered your bases well and you four certainly appear to have had a rough time of it; but how do I know you weren't simply overwhelmed and fled here with both your literal and metaphorical tails tucked between your legs?"

Vegeta opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by a stunned gasp from his master.

"Wait a minute - Vegeta, your tail!" If Vegeta didn't know any better, he would have thought the dismay in Frieza's voice was genuine. The emperor leaned back in his chair, setting his wine glass down to place his hand above his mouth like a spectator to a shipwreck. "My apologies - 'rough time' was a grave understatement. Vegeta, you have suffered an incorrigible indignity!"

Frieza's theatrical commiseration, along with the taunting chuckles of Zarbon and Dodoria, curled Vegeta's mouth into a scowl. His bloodshot eyes swelled at the the dagger of shame Frieza methodically drove deeper into him. Though Gohan, Raditz, and Nappa had their tails intact, they deeply resented the snide enjoyment of his pain.

Removing his hand from his mouth and revealing his insufferable grin, Frieza continued. "Your tragically lost limb aside, I need answers. How do I know you didn't just put the girl up to helping you?"

Fighting back every urge to curse at the three for their schoolgirl-like taunts towards him, Vegeta hissed through his teeth. "Sir, we had to retreat from that planet through Kabnet's flagship. Ours were destroyed the instant we broached the atmosphere."

"Not true," Zarbon interrupted. "A regular pod going offline is one thing, but if four of our high-speed pods lost signal at the same time, we would have been informed immediately."

"And who would be the one to inform you, Zarbon?" Vegeta asked, his eyebrow firmly raised. His eyes were intensely probing.

Zarbon paused, knowing the answer but feeling outwitted. "...Boysen."

For once, Frieza's allured gasp was the sound Vegeta wanted to hear. Gohan's breathing steadied in relief.

"Get in touch with Boysen and ask him where our pods are," Vegeta said, his voice overcoming his ragged condition. "And not only that - ask him to speak to me. But be casual; don't let him suspect he's being monitored."

Though Zarbon hated to move in the Saiyans' favor, his needling of them was merely for his petty enjoyment. The operations of the Frieza Force were still his top priority, and he would correct any threat to it even if doing so favored an ape. He pressed a button on his scouter.

"Boysen?" Zarbon asked.

"Yes, Zarbon?" Boysen's voice rang over the scouter.

"Lord Frieza has returned, and has requested his weekly audience with you at once. But before that, I need a favor. The Saiyan unit is behind on their deadline and several scouters seem to be having transmission problems between planets. I need you to check the status and location of the Saiyans' pods."

"They're on Planet Linden, sir."

Zarbon paused. While it confirmed they'd returned on another vessel, it still didn't answer everything. Though he knew the next question was a trap, it was a necessary one.

"Could you get in touch with Vegeta's scouter through your computer and ask him his status? Kiyomi says the computers still have connectivity."

"Yes, sir."

A few moments passed by, which felt like hours from Vegeta's vantage point. As far as he was concerned, Zarbon's tone was relaxed enough but the explanation had been far too detailed; the mark of a contrived story. He could only hope the increasingly lengthy silence wasn't Boysen concocting a contingency.

"It's saying Vegeta's scouter is offline. I'm not picking anything up from the other Saiyans' either. It's possible they were destroyed."

Zarbon looked straight ahead at the Saiyans. Another answer that confirmed nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but then -

"Just great, now I'll have to send the Ginyu Force over there to check things, and I just love doing that," Frieza suddenly cut in, though the apathy in his face defied the annoyance in his voice. Zarbon quirked his brow, but his confusion was answered with a mischievous wink from his commander-in-chief.

"My Lord! Just a moment," Boysen replied over scouter. Zarbon picked up just the slightest bit of trepidation in his voice. "I think I'm getting something. Vegeta, are you there?"

A pause.

"Okay, good. What's the status on Planet Linden so far?"

Frieza's wine glass shattered.

Zarbon's lips pressed firmly against each other and spread into a contemptuous frown. His eyelids moved within a centimeter of each other, leaving his eyes narrow slits. A triumphant smirk met Vegeta's lips. He couldn't hear the scouter transmission, but Frieza's broken glass and Zarbon's glare showed his eyes what his ears didn't need.

"He said everything's going well right now; no issues."

"Very well. You can report to the throne room now, sir."

Zarbon turned his scouter off. He looked ahead with an unreadable gaze, as did Frieza and Dodoria. For once, the tension in the room sizzled not between them and the Saiyans standing across.

The door turned open. That stocky, red double agent stepped inside. That shade of red nearly drained from his face when four Saiyan faces, and a new addition, turned to meet him. The worst face of them all belonged to the smirking prince.

"Nice day outside, eh Boysen?" Vegeta's smug eyes glistened with victory.

Boysen's panicked eyes blew past the Saiyans and onto his three superiors. A subtle disdain tainted their faces, most of all Frieza's. The lizard tyrant's red pupils looked less like vision lenses and more like droplets of blood beckoning him forth.

A mole out of places to dig, Boysen squeaked and shuddered. "Fr-Frieza! Wait, I…!"

"Step forward."

A shiver frosted Gohan's spine. Never had he heard Frieza's voice so deep, even after he'd insulted it. But while he had merely incited the flames of an ultimately childish temper tantrum, Boysen had committed a grievous crime that stabbed at the foundations of Frieza's empire. What Gohan saw now was a free sample of the true sparks of his tyrant's fury.

Trying to save face, Boysen anxiously stopped forward; Vegeta was even courteous enough to clear the way, going as far as spreading his arm out to guide his march. Boysen couldn't even look Frieza in the eye, lest his sanity broke.

"You served my father loyally, but do this to me."

There was not even a shred of Frieza's cordial facade in his voice. It was raspy, measured, and poisonous. It harbored the terror that defined his authority - an authority that Boysen had brazenly defied.

With only self-preservation in mind, Boysen reached his arm out and spoke up. "M-My Lord, if I may-"

"Not a word."

Frieza reached his arm out and with the power of both his mind and his energy, literally forced Boysen's mouth shut. Not even Boysen's pleas and subsequent horrified squawks at the loss of control over his nerves could overcome the force. Frieza didn't just close his mouth - he shut it so tightly his jaw wilted while his teeth cracked against each other. Only after a satisfactory sound of bones breaking did Frieza relinquish his telekinetic grip.

But only for a moment, because Frieza soon took dominion over Boysen's entire body. With a swift upward swing of his hands, Frieza smashed him into the ceiling and slammed him back down a second later. And then he did it again. And again. And again. And into the wall at the other end and back to the spot.

Gohan gulpd as stomach tightened. Boysen's chicanery aside, there was something deeply disturbing about seeing a man moved against his will. That Frieza could do it to him if he felt like it haunted the young Saiyan. He looked at Arepa out of the corner of his eye - she looked like he did when he saw his first monster movie.

Vegeta hadn't even blinked. Been there, felt that.

"How long were you running this game, Boysen?" Frieza asked, though he didn't care to receive an answer. "Months? Years? What gave you the audacity to dig around under my nose?"

Boysen was too busy heaving air with his face in the floor to reply. Feeling Frieza's control relinquished from body, he raggedly lifted himself to his knees. He opened his mouth, to speak.

"Fr-Friescha," he stammered, his words slurred and gargled as teeth and blood spilled from his crown. He faintly lifted his bleeding right arm to point his thumb at the Saiyans standing behind him. "Y-You don'th beliefe thethe monkeyth do you?"

"Watch your mouth!" Vegeta snarled as he, Nappa and Raditz all stepped forward to join in on the assault.

Frieza halted them with his palm (though not by force). "Stay put." His eyes never left Boysen.

With no satisfactory response, Boysen found himself again without control over his body. He'd been fastened into a kneeling position as he felt his body temperature plummet. His limbs constricted on him, his muscles tightening like a screw while his brain felt like a mallet was being squeezed against his head. The veins carrying his gradually cooling blood swelled into blue wires embedding his skin.

The gargled, aberrantly pitched screams that escaped Boysen's mouth as his inner body frosted inflamed Gohan's ears. The sound frequency marked its immovable territory in Gohan's brain and took hold of his nerves. It was aural confirmation of the true horrors Frieza's power wrought.

Somewhat pleased by Boysen's squawks, Frieza ceased his assault - but only to start the escalation. He lifted his right arm back up and focused his fingers on Boysen's left arm, sending a force to it through a cool breeze.

The tip of Boysen's fingers frosted until they were a pale blue. The color spread through his entire left arm, hardening it until it was a frozen shell of ice attached to his body.

With one vile clenching of his fingers, Frieza shattered the chunk of ice that once was Boysen's arm into hundreds of pieces.

Boysen's scream cut across the entire planet.

Though his jaw did flex involuntarily, Vegeta stood still. Raditz had a similar reaction while Nappa whistled high with a grimace. Arepa, on ther hand, closed her eyes, cupped her ears and looked away. Gohan desired to do the same, but couldn't. It was like Frieza's telekinesis had somehow spread to him too, forcing him to completely take in the gruesome sight so he could vividly understand his ruler's capabilities.

Boysen dropped to the floor, still conscious but convulsing just as one would when lifted from arctic waters, releasing his torment through hoarse yells. Ignoring his fading consciousness, Frieza jumped out from his chair and stalked ahead. No flippantly sadistic jokes, no laughs, not even a smile - just a butcher knife of a stare from Frieza as he grabbed Boysen's chin to lift him to eye level.

"You will not die here, Boysen," Frieza spat through his grinding teeth. He clenched a vice grip around Boysen's jaw just to keep him lucid. "You will endure this a hundredfold until I've wrung every goddamn droplet of knowledge about your and Kabnet's actions out of you."

He released his former confidant from his grip and let his head smack the marble floor. His blazing eyes never left him. "Dodoria. Drag this mound of unicorn manure to a rejuvenation chamber."

"Aye."

"Zarbon, go to the intelligence office and address every agent there."

Frieza let his gaze linger as Dodoria hauled what was left of Boysen by the collar of his armor and left the room, Zarbon on his heels. After allowing his rage to stew for just a few more moments, he shifted his attention on the raggedly-dressed girl of the room.

"You."

With absolutely no desire to incite Frieza, Arepa immediately answered. "Uh, yeah?!"

"While I appreciate your cooperation with my soldiers, you are not to leave this organization, do you understand me?" The still-noxious malignance in his voice and his eyes left no mistake of the threat implied. Arepa could only nod. "Be a soldier, a doctor, a technician, a goddamned COOK; I don't care, as long as it's here!"

"10-4!"

Frieza turned his attention to the four Saiyans who still remained. His eyes carried none of the derision he usually regarded them with.

"Know that I say this with complete and utmost sincerity, Saiyans: good work. You are dismissed."

Vegeta nodded. Genuine praise from Frieza was rare. He didn't care either way, but at least it insured a day or two of walking on something other than eggshells. With the other four in tow, Vegeta left the room, snickering as he overheard Frieza practically slam his fingers against his scouter as the door closed behind him.

Zarbon waited in the doorway, holding off on what he'd been instructed while he folded his arms. "Don't let your simian brains think your little fluke changes anything."

Vegeta paused. With the full confidence that he had Frieza's temporary good graces, Vegeta narrowed his eyes at his pompous superior.

"Fuck off, Zarbon."

Ignoring Zarbon's petulant growl and shaking fist, Vegeta walked away with a rejuvenation chamber on his mind. When he saw Arepa walk ahead of him, however, he had to address her.

"You! Little girl," Vegeta called out. Arepa stopped and turned around to face him. "I assume you're going to continue on as a soldier." She nodded. "But don't get any idea that you're joining our crew specifically. You're on your own, so find another unit."

With a smirk, she said, "Yeah I gotcha, shorty!"

"WHAT?!"

She zipped away before he finished the word. While Raditz mouthed something about her being a cocky little shit, Vegeta folded his arms and scowled on ahead. Something was going on out of the corner of his eye that took his attention off of that crass girl.

Gohan hadn't seen Arepa's stunt. In fact, he was a few paces behind the rest, on his hands and knees heaving for air. His tiny chest felt like it was on fire while his heart was seemingly trying to thump its way out. His strength to move had escaped him. All in his mind was the image of Boysen's frozen arm shattering on loop as a sense of hopelessness filled his very core.

How?

How?

How was he ever supposed to compete with that atrocity? And how could he ever hope to keep that sight out of brain at all times?

This was what awaited anybody who dared to defy Frieza?!

Had he really made the right decision with the dragon?

A gloved hand lifted Gohan off the floor and pulled him up to his face. Vegeta. Disapproval filled the prince's features.

"Keep your wits," he gruffly ordered. "If that was enough to spook you even after all you've experienced, then you'd better toughen up."

When Gohan's shudders ceased, Vegeta released him from his grasp. He landed on his feet but still needed to set his hand against the wall to steady himself. With his usual grunt, Vegeta folded his arms.

"Besides, that technique only works on those who are particularly weak. Even Raditz and that girl could resist it," Vegeta said before he turned on his heel and walked away.

As he watched him leave, Gohan's eyes widened while his heartbeat ramped back up. If what Vegeta said was true, and it only worked on weaklings, then why was the ice spreading through his very body while he walked away?

Filled with unyielding terror, Gohan removed his hand from the wall and reached out, desperate to save his de facto mentor or even warn him.

He was too late. Vegeta shattered into hundreds of pieces, just like Boysen's arm.

"VEGETA!"

...

"What now, brat?!"

Gohan blinked and shook his head back and forth. Vegeta hadn't frozen or shattered at all - he was still there, not a trace of blue on him that wasn't fabric from his bodysuit. His arms were folded yet again while he snarled at the boy, just wanting to heal up already.

When Gohan only kept gasping with his delirious eyes opened wide, Vegeta just shook his head in disgust and walked away. He'd thought Gohan had finally manned up and become a guile fighter, but evidently he still had a lot to learn. But enough about him; it was time for Vegeta to get his mind numbingly aching body into a healing tank. It was taking every drop of effort just to move it. If there weren't any tanks left, he was gonna yank somebody out himself...

"Do you wish to return to Earth, Son Gohan?"

"Yes."

One second, Gohan was looking at Kabnet's flagship that held his allies and Arepa; the next he was staring at a pitch black sky. Astounded, he swung his head around and saw an enormous dragon hovering above him - Shenron, as green and monstrous as his dad had described.

"Gohan!"

That voice.

Gohan's head spun back around. There it was. Blue boots, orange pants, orange gi. Black hair that stuck out like a palm tree. And a smile that could cool down even a volcano.

It was real. He was home!

"DADDY!"

The Dragon disappeared. The sky faded back into that vibrant blue hue he'd missed so terribly; as beautiful as ever. Even his outfit disappeared, with the yellow tunic and green pants he'd worn the day Raditz arrived popping up in its place. Everything was as it should have been.

Gohan ran into Goku's arms and hugged him with all his might. "I missed you so much, daddy! It was horrible!"

"Yeah, I'd bet," Goku said with his infectious laugh. "But don't worry, son. It's all over. Frieza and those guys won't hurt ya ever again."

Gohan looked up, his eyes bemusedly fluttering at his dad. "Huh? How do you know about Frieza?"

With a dismissive wave, Goku just said, "Eh, don't worry about it! Let's just get home already! I know your mom's prolly got a TASTY feast ready!" He even eagerly rubbed his belly.

Gohan laughed, yearning for his mother and her delicious home cooking again. Goku called for the Flying Nimbus, and the puffy yellow cloud soon returned. With Gohan still in his arms, Goku hopped on.

Gohan's legs had dipped through the Nimbus' surface, but luckily Goku was still holding him up.

"Oopsy-daisy! Guess you've been up to no good, huh?" Goku said. Like his dad had done so often, Gohan scratched his head and giggled, red flushing his cheeks. "Ah, well! Let's just head on home!"

The Nimbus took off at breakneck speed. Gohan marveled at all of the beautiful scenery down below, a welcome change from the ruins he'd become acquainted with. In almost no time, they were back to the lush forestry of Mount Paozu. Among all of the trees was the Son family household - Gohan's home.

Goku and Gohan hopped off the Nimbus; Gohan's fingers quivered in anticipation. Goku knocked on the door.

"Chi-Chi, I'm home!" Goku yelled. "And I've got a speeeeeecial visitor!"

Gohan could hear the footsteps approaching the door. This was it! He'd missed his mother the most of all. Even with her stern hand, she always dissolved all of his worries. Her warm face was only a few feet away.

Finally, the steps stopped, and the door swung open.

His mom wasn't the one to open the door, however. Instead, the pink skinned, armored lizard-like tyrant stepped out from the doorway. Frieza's eyes carried venom for Gohan, ready to inflict unimaginable punishment.

"F-Frieza…!" Gohan shouted. His tunic faded back into his armor.

"You thought you could escape, didn't you?" Frieza said. "You ungrateful monkey mutt."

From behind Frieza, Gohan could see his mother, Chi-Chi, standing with her jaw hung open in terror - but she wasn't normal. Her body was a frozen, ice scultpure. Frieza stalked towards Gohan with a perpetually twisted scowl, the boy using all of his power just to back away. He looked over his shoulder, and now Goku was frozen solid too. With a scream, Gohan tried to turn back around to free himself of the horrid sight, but now even his house, the trees and all other living things surrounding him were submerged in ice.

All living things besides Frieza.

"I hope you now understand what happens when you act against me, boy" Frieza said with a chipper smile as he poshly clasped his hands behind his back. "Everything you care about crumbles."

Gohan's house, the trees, Goku, and Chi-Chi - they all started to crack. Gohan desperately reached out, trying to ignore Frieza's cacophonic cackling but was unable to do anything about it.

"Blame yourself, boy. Blame yourself for being too weak."

Everything shattered.

Gohan sat straight up from his cot, panting like he'd just run 500 miles. He looked all around his surroundings, just to make sure he was still in the sleeping quarters; Vegeta, Nappa and Raditz lay in cots to his left. He never would have guessed in a million years that he would be relieved to be back in Frieza's grounds instead of Earth, but that dream had given him plenty of good reason.

A typhoon of confusion wreaked havoc on Gohan's brain. It hadn't just been the way Frieza tortured Boysen; the appalling brutality and his screams. It was how easily Frieza could do it. It didn't matter what Vegeta said. He couldn't sense Ki like Gohan. He didn't feel the mind-frosting chill of Frieza's spirit, and couldn't tell that he'd barely even scratched the surface with his technique. Heaven only knew what Frieza was easily capable of doing to someone stronger.

But it was that last thing in his brain's manifestation of Frieza that shook Gohan to his core:

"I hope you now understand what happens when you act against me, boy. Everything you care about crumbles."

Everything he cared about? Frieza had only done that move on Boysen, a man he'd seen three times in his entire life and lured him and the Saiyans into a death trap. He barely even had an opinion about the guy, let alone cared.

Before he could give the dream deeper thought, however, a siren blared all through the base. Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz woke up in an instant. The three scrambled to get their armor on and searched for their scouters.

"Hurry up and put your armor on, brat!" Vegeta yelled, forcing his own over his head while putting his scouter on at the same time. He noticed Gohan was still wearing the tattered rags from Planet Linden, but that would just have to do for now.

Gohan did as directed, though he wondered what in the world was going on. The Saiyans made a beeline, and when they left the room dozens upon dozens of other soldiers were all racing through the halls in the same direction as the siren raged on.

"What's going on?!" Gohan asked Raditz as they rushed.

"That's the assembly alarm," Raditz yelled. "If you're even a second late, you will suffer."

That was all Gohan needed to high-tail it. Just as the Saiyans were about to reach the doorway, a multi-colored alien crew of similar numbers tried to shove them out of the way and beat them to the door. Incensed, the three elders blew them out of the way with shockwaves and barged into the doorway, the siren finally stopping just a second after they stepped in.

It was a large assembly hall, where hundreds of soldiers stood in organized rows. The Saiyans squeezed into the far end of the back row, next to a few chatty soldiers. Many speculated on why they were gathered for an all-hands-on-deck assembly, but they all knew it was nothing good. Only the Saiyans could ascertain the likely subject.

At the end of the room was a stage, where Frieza and his two top officers stood in front of a large video screen. Frieza's sour expression was unchanged from that fateful meeting; when the unit of soldiers who tried to thwart the Saiyans stumbled inside, they met an explosive end only from a flicker of his red eyes.

Gohan and several others grimaced at the sight, although the other Saiyans only offered spiteful laughter. Yet again, Gohan was shown the ease with which Frieza could end somebody if he were short on patience.

After Zarbon pushed a button, the video screen turned on and revealed two faces that surprised every soldier, while Gohan raised an eyebrow. It was a split-screen; the face to the left identical to Frieza's, but older and less gentle, while the other one didn't look like either of them. His face was dark purple, and contained in a white shell bespeckled by a blue jewel - the only thing he had in common with Frieza and this older doppelganger were those sinister red eyes. Above their faces was a header displaying a line of other screens with similarly crowded assembly halls; they confirmed the attendance of the planets Frieza didn't directly supervise.

"Greetings, my loyal soldiers!" said the Frieza-like man on the video screen with a gracious, but off-putting, smile. "For those who are new, I am King Cold, the dear father of your adorable boss."

The soldiers didn't dare laugh while Frieza hissed in irritation.

The purple man on the other side of the screen did not share his smile. In fact, he looked almost bored. He opened his mouth and began speaking, but there no sound came from his mouth.

King Cold laughed haughtily. "Hoho, it would appear that you are on mute!"

With a growl, the surly purple fellow pressed a button and repeated himself. "I'm Cooler." It wasn't just his face that was different from the other two. His voice and intonation were rougher and far more masculine.

"Well don't be curt, Cooler!" King Cold said with a laugh as both Cooler and Frieza scowled. "You are also my elder son!"

Gohan's throat tightened. He might have heard in passing about Frieza's family but didn't pay much attention. But now, actually confirming and seeing them for himself, his growing fear broached into overwhelming territory. It wasn't just Frieza that was his target, apparently; it was his entire family. Three fearsome foes that he would somehow have to work towards defeating. His vigorous heartbeat returned, hastening his breathing enough to catch Vegeta's ears.

"Now, some of you may already be aware, but there has been some unscrupulous activity going on within the shadows of Frieza's division," King Cold began, drawing chirpings from many soldiers in the audience. "Kabnet, the soldier who fled us seven years ago, has been working to construct a rival organization and operated in tandem with a rogue intelligence officer of Frieza's, siphoning the very profits some of you worked so hard to claim on my son's behalf."

Many gasps rang through the audience of soldiers, several connecting the dots to Boysen's scream and Zarbon dragging him to a healing tank.

With a laugh, King Cold added, "Or rather, Kabnet was working. For through a stroke of good fortune, our formidable Saiyan unit uncovered the conspiracy and took care of Kabnet themselves."

All eyes turned to the pale-skinned, spiky black haired (with the exception of one), tail-wielding (again, with the exception of one) quartet in the very back of the room. The Saiyans were indifferent, taking no pride in handling a problem Frieza could have nipped in the bud years ago were it not for his negligence.

King Cold continued speaking, but then other voices cut in above his. "Avo and Cado, were you two saying something?"

In Cooler's place, two round-headed soldiers appeared on the left side of the screen. One red with two antennas, the other blue with only a single antenna at the center of his head. Avo, the blue one spoke. "Oh no, you go ahead, sir."

With a wave and a cordial laugh, Cold said, "No, no, you have the floor!"

Cado, the red one laughed. "Well, I was just gonna say we should all raise a banana in their honor!"

The entire room, and the other streams, erupted into laughter; even Frieza was lifted out of his sour mood. The four Saiyans, Gohan included, directed murderous scowls to all who dared indulge in the mockery. Even when they were the only ones actually getting shit done, they were treated like jokes.

"Well that's not very nice, Cado!" King Cold chided, though he was also giggling. The two jokester soldiers' stream disappeared, bringing Cooler back into the fray. He hadn't laughed even a bit. "But in all seriousness; we are in your debt, Saiyans. What this incident has shed a light on is how we have more active enemies in this universe than we think. Some of them might even be among us."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. When it got down to it, few soldiers wouldn't oppose the organization if they had the means. But he knew what Cold was getting at.

"We need to be prepared. With their leader dead, Kabnet's empire will either collapse or wage an open war with us. Not knowing who or what he had amongst his ranks, we need to prepare for the latter even if the former is more likely," King Cold explained. "Though my little bundle of joy rules with an iron fist, he has perhaps made a few oversights."

A vein in Frieza's temple throbbed, objecting both to the "bundle of joy" description and the criticism.

"Anybody who's ever been to the other side knows that Cooler here runs a very tight ship." Cold gestured to the man on his virtual left. "And now Frieza will be doing the same. If you were used to a life of leisure, that will sadly be coming to an end."

Vegeta snorted in disgust at the absurd notion. "Leisure" only truly applied to the Saiyans, and not out of any altruism on Frieza's part. The other soldiers were given only 36 hours rest before they were sent off to a mission that could have very well been their last. The Saiyans, on the other hand, were basically janitors. They had longer gaps in between weak missions and were given demeaning bullshit labor when they weren't training. The chaos and constant hustle since Gohan's arrival was an anomaly, and a welcome one.

"There will be an increase in surveillance on all planets and a strictly enforced curfew during downtime," King Cold said. "Scouters will be mandatory at all times, even when you're sleeping, and they must be turned on. If our officers see one distributed scouter offline, there will be swift punishment unless we can verify it was damaged by outside forces."

That earned a few nervous, softly-spoken murmurs from many in the crowd, some directing glares at the Saiyans for helping introduce such tighter supervision.

"I see some frowns on the streams, but do not fret; it's not all bad news! In the coming weeks there will be a rollout of new scouters with advanced features that include voice activation, instant access to our databases, universal translation, and video transmission." To demonstrate, King Cold reached out to the screen and swung its perspective around to reveal a bedazzled, heavily decorated room. "For instance, this video is from my scouter!"

"Of course, these scouters have been distributed to all of my men for years now," Cooler boasted. He could see the subtle twitch of Frieza's eye when he brought it up. "So we will assist in the rollout. But that's not the important part. We need all of our reserves stronger than ever as we begin taking out Kabnet's remaining planets and reclaiming my brother's revenue losses. We will reconvene survival missions and rotate different crews to boot camp planets for several weeks of high-intensity training. My men will supervise these training courses."

That last tidbit had been news even to Frieza. Speaking up for the first time, Frieza said, "What? I don't believe that will be necessary."

"Perhaps, my son," King Cold replied. "But Cooler has been doing these procedures for years. His men are highly experienced at them and can run them efficiently. Don't get me wrong, Frieza; you are cool, but your brother is Cooler!"

Silence. Bewildered, uncomfortable silence.

King Cold menacingly cleared his throat.

Stiff and awkwardly forced laughter spread through the entire audience while both Frieza and Cooler pinched the bridge of their noses. Decades of this shit.

"But anyway," Frieza said, trying to take the reigns of the conversation. "Every soldier in my army, save for the Saiyans and the girl they recruited from Kabnet's ranks, will be subject to questioning about their dealings. I must ensure every last one of you have allegiance to the Cold Force and the Cold Force only."

"Indeed," King Cold cut in. "After all, these events have given Frieza good reason not to trust his cabinet."

Frieza puckered his lips with a hysterical, aggrieved smile to avoid screaming while his face reddened. At least King Cold didn't have to imply a threat to receive the forced laughter that time.

"Well, on that note, I suppose that just about covers things, my subjects," King Cold said, removing his scouter so his face was back on screen. "But please, folks; try to understand. Despite the tightening provisions, we still care about every last one of you deeply. Know that every step we take is to ensure only your continued success! Oh, don't give me that look, Cooler!"

The older son had rolled his eyes for all to see. What drivel, he thought.

Seeing that, Vegeta remembered why he would have switched from Frieza to Cooler in a heartbeat. Cooler was infamously cutthroat, but not about any of the bullshit games his father and brother enjoyed so much. He'd still aspire to kill him of course, but he wouldn't be miserable and would find honor in the fight.

"Always a pleasure, Papa," Frieza said, trying to be cordial but his head feeling seconds from explosion. He pushed a button on the projector to end the broadcast. With that over, he lifted his head to address his subordinates with barely restrained venom.

"I had better not see a single one of you sleeping or lollygagging for the next 24 hours. You are dismissed."

The swarm of men turned around and exited the hall. Nappa and Raditz eagerly cracked their knuckles about the news of the training deployments. Gohan, however, carried an inescapable nausea in the pit of his stomach. Days earlier, he'd singlehandedly wiped out Kabnet and one of his units. He was the most confident he'd ever been in his power during his short life. Confident enough to reject Earth in good faith. Now, he wasn't sure if he could survive another second.

"You have a knack for shaking things up, eh Gohan?"

Gohan turned around to face the source of the voice. It was Lemo, walking and standing perfectly fine. Gohan looked down and saw a metallic foot attached to the scientist's left leg.

"Yeah, I built this bad boy myself," Lemo said, knowing exactly what Gohan was looking at. "Now I pack a helluva kick, at least."

Though Gohan was glad to see Lemo back on his (steel) feet, he noticed something off about the enhancement. A speck of light blue appeared at the toe. And then, it spread to his entire foot.

And then, it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Gohan gasped and reached his hand out.

"What?"

Gohan looked back up at Lemo's face. He looked confused, but in no pain. Gohan swung his head back down, and there was Lemo's new metal foot exactly as he'd seen it before. The frazzled half-Saiyan shook his head, having to tell himself this was all just his imagination.

"You okay, kid?" Lemo asked. Gohan didn't answer, instead walking away with his hand in his hair.

Losing his mental faculties, Gohan tried to retreat to somewhere, anywhere, but then another voice called out his name. This time, it was Arepa, who was standing behind him. Gohan turned around and was startled by her new look.

Dark blue pants and dark blue armor with green padding.

In other words, Gohan's chosen uniform.

"Hey, that's mine," Gohan said with a glare.

"Ain't see ya name on it. Everybody here wears damn near the same shit anyway," Arepa said with a shrug. "I just like the colors. You wear 'em well. I'm sure there's more."

She started prattling about everything that had gone down over the last day, but as she spoke, Gohan couldn't help but notice her pupils. They were the same icy shade of blue they always were. The shade of blue that tormented Boysen's arm and shattered it into hundreds of pieces. Cracks started to form in her pupils. This time, Gohan knew it was a mirage and tried to force it away by squeezing his eyes shut.

Arepa literally snapped Gohan out of his spell, snapping her fingers in front of his face to open his eyes. When he opened them back up, there were two gaping holes where her pupils used to be. Blood spilled from them both and she didn't seem to notice at all.

"You okay, Gohan?"

The half-Saiyan shrieked, spun on his heels and scurried away from her.

Arepa's eyes had actually been perfectly fine. But they were full of concern as she watched Gohan's frantic pacing.

Gohan swung open one of the steel doors leading into a closet, walked in and slammed it shut. With nobody around to either see him or turn into ice in his imagination, Gohan groaned and fell back into the wall, staring at the lineup of armor and bodysuits ahead of him. He decided to just focus on things moment by moment, as he did on Planet Zuna. So what was the problem at the moment? Not any of Frieza's powers; just his smelly, torn up uniform. His eyes scanned the assortment of suits, eventually realizing a problem:

Everything in his color was gone.

"Dammit!" Gohan shouted, slamming his fist into the floor enough times to bruise his knuckles. It wasn't until he saw blood spill that he settled down.

What was he doing? It was armor. He didn't even want anything to do with this organization, and now he was throwing a temper tantrum over colors. His grip on himself had fallen precariously loose.

With everything quiet, Gohan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of nothing. It was as his father always did, and what helped him get through Planet Zuna. He didn't allow any reminders of Frieza's punishment to Boysen, the incoming trials, or even his triumph on Linden inside his mind. He breathed in, and he breathed out.

When he opened his eyes back up, he scanned the uniforms again with a clearer mind, just looking for whatever he liked. His eyes found one particular set of armor, hidden amongst the others. The design was the same, but it was the colors that stood out:

A dark purple plate with gold shoulder guards. Almost identical to Frieza's armor, in fact, bur darker.

Purple and Gold. A color combination that had done him well in recent weeks. It wasn't the ice that Frieza dished out on those that betrayed him; it was the color of the rose that had mesmerized him. The preferred color of the army that Gohan helped topple, earning Frieza's genuine praise.

It was a combination of security. A combination of power. Maybe that was why Frieza, the man who imposed his might on all that stood before him, was enthralled by it.

Gohan stared at the plate for minutes on end, mesmerized.

After finding the matching purple bodysuit, Gohan stripped himself of his withered old colors and assumed his mighty new ones. He looked at his arms, then his legs; they snugly fit the fabric. It even carried a fresh smell that his other colors didn't.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, Gohan exited the closet. Arepa had been standing behind the door, having trailed him out of concern. When she saw his new attire, her eyes - the blue icicles that had cracked moments earlier - sparkled with admiration.

"Wicked!"

Chapter Text

The Saiyans were among roughly three dozen soldiers lined up outdoors. They stood atop an odorous, snowy surface while a chilly breeze blew from the black clouded, steel-gray skies. Standing across from them were three men in purple suits sporting a unique lime green armor that contained only a single shoulder guard and a triangular logo against a black plate in the middle. A tall, lanky frog-like man with copper skin stood on the left and a bulky, dark green man with black hair on the right. The shortest of the trio stood in the middle; he was similar to Zarbon, with blue skin and stylish yellow hair. He was the one to speak.

"Greetings, soldiers." As seemed to be the theme in the army, he spoke with a heavy accent. He pointed to the bipedal frog. "To my right, is Neiz. And to my left, is Dore." The blue soldier smirked and pointed to his chest. "And I'm Salza. The three of us together are…"

The three soldiers conducted a series of synchronized poses to the soldiers' bewilderment.

"Cooler's Armored Squadron!" The three said in unison.

Gohan scratched the top of his head with his tail while cocking his eyebrow at the "Squadron." For a band of violent space pirates, the top end sure seemed to be in no shortage of dorks.

"You are in great luck, as you are the first selections for the Cooler Force-sponsored Training Camp," Salza said, valiantly spreading his arms wide. "Those of you who survive will no doubt leave with warnings to pass along to the next crop."

The ominous tone and sinister grin didn't strike even a pang of fear within Vegeta, but he eyed his young protege standing to his left. Something in Gohan's resolve had cracked after Frieza's torture of Boysen. In his estimation, the boy was experiencing hallucinations and panic attacks; an absurd thought to the violence-desensitized Saiyan Prince. Most curious was his change in armor and his withdrawn demeanor since, taking to it almost like a calming mechanism.

The way Vegeta saw it, this camp would either get Gohan's head where it needed to be or reduce him to a mental invalid. He perished the thought of the latter.

"We believe that competition breeds greatness," Salza began. "All of you are part of units, so the members that complete all of their challenges over the next month with the best times and performances will earn points for their crews. Since you all are among Lord Frieza's best soldiers, the unit with the most cumulative points at the end of the course shall earn a rank upgrade."

Nearly every soldier's eyes lit up at Salza's words, most of all the Saiyans. For the other members, they saw new privileges. For the Saiyans, they saw a chance to finally get consistent top-flight missions and finally expedite their power growth. A simple task, in Vegeta's eyes. Nobody was more suited for rigorous training than the Saiyan race.

"Every day, you will all be woken up by an alarm and must report to this site at 0500 hours sharp. You will undergo an obstacle course that spans the entire circumference of the planet; given the small size of this star, it must be completed in six hours and not a second longer. Only upon timely completion will you be granted thirty minutes to hunt down a meal."

Salza observed the lineup, looking hard beyond the bluster for the first bead of sweat to drop. In the Cold Force, any sign of weakness would be immediately snuffed out

"And that ain't all, folks," Dore added with a grin. "You will undergo a series of strength and combat challenges that will vary day-by-day, and only after successful completion will you earn the right to a healing tank and sleep - however long that takes. If it takes you all day, you'll still have to report here by 0500 hours."

"And you'll still have to complete whatever you didn't finish on top of the next day's tasks," Neiz added.

Despite Vegeta's concerns to the contrary, Gohan wasn't spooked. On Planet Zuna, he had to fend for himself on an entire planet of aliens after his life and made it out in one piece.

Constant action?

No comfortable sleep?

Earning your food?

Bring it on, Gohan thought with a glare. His Saiyan comrades, all weary of his rattled disposition since their return from the battle with Kabnet, were pleased with the determination in his eyes.

Salza pointed to the small building at the top of the hill behind the soldiers. "You will all be living in that facility over there. You'll find gear that is to be worn underneath your uniforms. You'll also find your enhanced scouters. The only time you are not permitted to wear them is the obstacle course. Once that's over, they are to be worn for the remainder of the day, even during sleep."

"Yeah, because you might be shocked by the punishment you receive for not having it on," Neiz said with a troubling smirk.

"Now, hurry up and get to the facility!" Dore shouted. "We'll expect to see you all back here in ten minutes to begin the obstacle course!"

The group of soldiers headed for the facility. As the Saiyans approached the doorway, a group stepped in front of them. Vegeta scowled hatefully at them.

"Are you lost, Cui?"

Cui - the purple, frog-like alien that had confronted Gohan and Vegeta during the former's first day on Frieza's base. His insufferable smile hadn't changed. Next to him were a tall, lanky teal-skinned man with a purple mohawk, a muscular man coated in red fur with the face of a bear. And the fourth member of the bunch was a short, pony-tail wearing girl with dark blue and green armor. Wait a second…

"Arepa?" Gohan asked.

The sprightly young girl could almost immediately sense the tension between the two groups and shrugged with a weary smile.

"I know you guys must feel real special with all of the shakeups you triggered, but don't get it twisted. You're still a bunch of worthless apes in my eyes!" Cui snickered.

With a snarl that would have mortified a lesser man, Vegeta clenched his fist and put his foot forward. "Your disgusting, buggy little eyes won't mean anything when they're clawed out!"

"Worthless trash," Raditz spat. "Why don't you get out of our way?"

"You're in no position to be firing orders, weakling," the skinny teal soldier said.

"Easy now, Stroh," Cui said, holding off his comrade with his arm. "That trash bug doesn't even warrant words." He laughed harder as Raditz's veins swelled and turned to the bear on his left. "What do you think we should do, Beari?"

Licking his prominent fangs, Beari grinned at the snarling Saiyan quartet with his arms folded. "Man, these turd faces won't even make it past day one! Who cares?" His child-like high-pitched voice made Gohan nearly fall over.

The other two allies chuckled while Nappa had to physically restrain Vegeta (though he was quite fired up himself). Stroh, Beari, and Cui left the scene. Arepa turned around to make sure they were out of sight and whirled back to Gohan.

"Zarbon assigned me to 'em. If ya ask me, that dude's an ugly ol' toad,'' Gohan, and even Nappa, laughed.

"Hurry your ass up, Arepa!" Cui shouted from the building. Arepa flashed a peace sign at Gohan and sauntered off.

"Gohan!" Vegeta shouted, snatching the boy's attention. He still wasn't used to Vegeta using his actual name. "Don't think for one second that girl is your 'friend.' I have no doubt Zarbon grouped her with them for a reason."

"Yes, sir," Gohan said, though he let his eyes linger on Arepa as she walked away longer than Vegeta cared for.

The Saiyans stepped inside the facility. It was a dank hall, the floor painted with the stains of years' worth of spilled blood from the trainees of past. All that lay in the room were rows of stone cots on each side, all of them holding padding and scouters. Besides that, a fw healing tanks in the back corner. Gohan walked to his cot and checked out the blue scouter, only twirling it around in his grip since he knew there wasn't much time to test its new capabilities. He assumed the padding was the gear they were instructed to wear, confirmed by all of the men applying them with their sleeves and pants (if applicable) rolled up.

The paddings had labels for designated body parts. Gohan pulled the top of his body suit down and first applied padding to his shoulder. His arm immediately buckled from the sheer weight.

"What the…?!" Gohan muttered as he struggled to move his arm around.

"Weighted pads," Vegeta said, all but his legs padded up. He didn't emit the physical reaction Gohan and many of others had, but his hoarse voice and furrowed brows showed that they strained even his body. "Similar to the ones I wore when training as a child." But far heavier, Vegeta noted. A half ton, by his estimation.

As Gohan placed the padding against his shoulders, forearms, chest, and legs, he felt like about ten extra bodies jumped into his own. Even reaching his arm out was a task from hell that tugged at his muscles.

"Let's just hurry the hell up and get over there." Vegeta walked at a deliberate pace. He, Raditz and Nappa grew up on a planet of intense gravity, so they had an easier time adjusting than Gohan and the other hobbling soldiers. Wanting to follow his elders' example, Gohan simply put his head down, gnawed at his own teeth, and marched behind them.

Though it took effort that weighed as much as the padding, Gohan made it to the three other Saiyans' sides. He could feel his body adjusting to the strain with every step, focusing his energy to his feet. As he marched, he looked up at Vegeta.

"What the heck is that Cui guy's deal, anyway?" Gohan asked between winces.

With a strained laugh, Nappa answered. "Ol' fishboy just has sour grapes from when we invaded his planet."

"We didn't even purge the damn place," Raditz said, grinning. "We just roughed up a few buildings until their King agreed to join Frieza. That little turncoat saw the writing on the wall and betrayed them before we even did anything just to suck up. He exposed his spineless ass for his whole homeworld to see and just needs somebody to blame." Vegeta snickered at the memory from his youth, the young Cui cowering before him with his grotesque eyes bugging out and tagging along like a dog searching for an ass to sniff.

Gohan thought back to what Kiyomi told him - never sell out your people. It seemed like few in Frieza's army stood by that mantra.

Cooler's Armored Squadron laughed amongst themselves as they watched the struggle march. "It's like a turtle procession," Salza quipped.

Just a second after most of the soldiers slogged in, an alarm on Salza's scouter went off. "Time's up!"

Sauza looked above the swarm of heads to find four soldiers far behind the rest, struggling to march through the snow. With a bloodthirsty chuckle, Salza lifted both hands and conjured small blades of energy from each of his fingers and flung them to carve up the unlucky lemmings. Many soldiers grimaced as their blood painted the white snow.

"They'll live," Salza said. "But that's the punishment for tardiness."

Gohan winced and nodded. He didn't need any harsher warning than that.

"Now, lemme lay out some ground rules for ya!" Dore yelled, his imposing voice demanding everyone's attention. "There will be NO use of energy for this course. If you're gonna get used to those weights, you just gotta sweat through 'em." Many gasps escaped the crowd, to the amusement of the squadron. "We got cameras set up everywhere that we can watch through our scouters, so we'll know!"

"And you are to run in your full gear, armor and all," Neiz said. "Now, you'll start it off going west." Neiz moved his body and pointed to his left.

Dread filled Gohan as he and the other soldiers turned in the Neiz's direction. He'd been confident at first, but the extra provisions cast doubt on his capabilities. The weakness he'd been trying to escape had snuck back in.

"Now, how you tackle these obstacles is your own choice," Salza said. "You can thwart them at your own peril as long as you don't use energy."

"If you got any complaints about that, then keep 'em - 'cause I doubt you're strong enough to do anything about it." Dore yelled.

Those words tensed Gohan in a good way. That was his drive. That was why he needed to train and overcome this. So he could become strong enough that he, and only he, decided things.

Dore triggered his scouter's timer with the click of a button.

"Alright, weaklings...BEGIN!"

The soldiers took off...to the best of their ability, at least. Just like before, the Saiyans led the way down the trail of snow. Cui was having none of that noise.

"Beari, can you at least jump?" Cui yelled, struggling to speak as he exerted himself.

"Sure thing!" Beari yelled. The pads hadn't been nearly as rough on him.

"You know what to do!"

"Got it."

Defying his size, Beari leapt ahead through a series of flips until he planted his immense feet right behind Gohan. The impact knocked the tiny Saiyan over, allowing Beari to grab his tail. Gohan tried to get up, but all of the strength sapped from his body.

Just as Beari was about to lift Gohan up, however, Vegeta kicked him into a tree dozens of feet away.

"Didn't I tell you to wrap your damn tail, idiot?!" Vegeta rebuked as Gohan tried to pick himself up. The irritable Prince did that job for him, grabbing Gohan by the hair and tossing him as far as both of their bodies allowed. Both out of spite and to get back ahead, Vegeta jumped up and used Cui's spotty, bald cranium as a springboard.

With the dirty tricksters behind him, Vegeta raged ahead. He and the Saiyans kept a brisk pace until one section stopped them dead in their tracks. Two cliffs - and a net of flaming barbed wire raised just inches above the ground in between. The Saiyans weren't the only ones to stop; nearly every soldier wondered what the hell they were going to do.

It was Vegeta who just said screw it and popped down to crawl. The smoldering flames raging inches above his back? Nothing. He was determined to raise the bar for the rest of the wimps. Dreading getting shown up by a "mere monkey," the others followed.

Gohan, however, had a different idea. Sure, there was a no-energy rule, Gohan had one thing these brutes didn't: control over his Ki. He leaped up and the second his foot landed on the scorching, sharp barbs, he unleashed his Ki for a microsecond. Just enough force to both shield his toes and launch himself.

So what if it was "cheating?" These guys cheated for a living.

Vegeta could see Gohan leap ahead and wondered how in the hell he'd pulled it off. Another soldier tried to mimic him, but only earned himself a blazing, impaled foot.

Gohan landed back on the ground and widened his gap from the rest as his limbs loosened up a bit more. The further he ran, however, the more the temperature dropped. The heavy congestion filling his lungs forced him to slow down for his breathing's sake. His jog took him to the edge of a cliff, where he could hear the water raging down below.

When Gohan took another step to see how steep of a drop he would have to take, he froze.

Not because of the height. In fact, he wouldn't have to jump at all. But he would have to go down a slope of ice water. With the massive stream of ice came a stream of memories from the day Frieza punished Boysen for his treason. It wasn't just a brutally cold riverbank in Gohan's eyes - it was a powerful flow of Frieza's everlasting strength. His eyes sought out an alternate path, but there wasn't anything out for miles that wouldn't have just set him back.

Worst of all, he could sense the other soldiers drawing closer.

Gohan brushed one foot over, shutting his eyes to squeeze away his vision of the ice grinding him away. He slid his other foot over as his heart erratically pumped oxygen through his veins.

What was he doing? He could never conquer Frieza if he was scared of a little ice. Oh, how he could hear Vegeta's disembodied voice reprimand him, reminding him that the technique he feared so much only worked on the weak.

"I'm not weak!"

He screamed it aloud before he made the leap into the unbearably cold frosty waters with his eyes clenched shut. Luckily, it was a precipitous slide - not that it made the ride easier to endure. His skin felt like it was going to peel off at any second. When his foot finally hit a ridge of land, he thrust himself forward and fell face-first into the rancid snow.

Gohan survived the ice. Was it awful? Yes. Did his entire body feel numb? Yes. But he got through it. He could do this.

Unfortunately, while he coughed and reeled on the ground, Cui and the recovered Beari not only escaped the stream with flying colors, but took turns kicking him into a nearby tree. Cui was amphibious and could easily adapt to ice water, while Beari had the protection of his fur. They took amusement out of their new lead while running with (relative) ease.

Everyone else who escaped the glacial slide wasn't so lucky. Soon after Cui and Beari left, the bulk of fighters washed up and gasped for air as Gohan had done. Nappa was among the first to get up, his size making providing some insulation against the weather. In a shrewd move, he slung Vegeta and Raditz over his shoulders before he took off, though he hadn't noticed Gohan crawling away from a tree branch that had fallen on top of him.

But though Nappa was only thinking ahead, he should have known better. The instant Vegeta regained his bearings, he viciously elbowed Nappa in the gut and leaped out of his shoulders. When his large partner doubled over, he kicked him for good measure.

"I didn't recall asking for your help, Nappa!" Vegeta snarled, his mind zipping clear past his earlier assistance of Gohan.

Figuring that Nappa would get himself back up eventually, Vegeta and Raditz pushed on ahead. The plant-rich jungle they entered gave them limited visibility. Blowing leaves and insects out of their faces, and adjusting their body to the schizophrenic climate, the two Saiyans swung from tree to tree until they reached another steep precipice. They stopped in their tracks, but when they saw the sight ahead, they nearly fell over the edge - from laughing.

A set of twin vines were the only path from their cliff to the next. Below the vines, a pit of fire. Clinging to the vines? Beari. Clinging to Beari's legs? A whimpering Cui.

By the time Gohan and Nappa finally made it over, Vegeta and Raditz had already squeezed past their two rivals. They had their core strength to thank, as it allowed them to push forward from arm to arm. If he were in a more sadistic mood, Vegeta would have just kicked Beari and Cui over; but he wanted that fish-face bastard's death to come after realizing how hopelessly overpowered he was in battle.

With their small size, Gohan and Arepa had the easiest time jumping around the vines, laughing amongst each other even as some less than fortunate soldiers fell to their fiery deaths.

"Hey, Gohan! I betcha five fish you can't do a double flip to the next vine!" Arepa challenged before doing exactly that.

"Watch me!" Gohan yelled. But he didn't do a regular front flip like Arepa did - he did a forward backflip, launching himself clean past Arpea and still easily grabbing hold of the vine.

"Cripes, Gohan! Remind me to never bet against ya again!"

Gohan laughed, feeling warmer from hearing Arepa's friendly platitudes. Shortly after Vegeta and Raditz made it on land, the two children did the same. And when Nappa kicked a soldier that was in his way for too long down below, so did he. As soon as Nappa got both feet on soil, Vegeta and Raditz bent down and chopped off the ends of the vines. They swung all the way down to the bottom of the other cliff across, anyone not strong enough to keep their grip condemned to a molten end.

"Nice one, guys!" Nappa yelled as they continued running.

Meanwhile, Cooler's Squadron laughed while they watched the madness unfold on their scouters. It never failed - the soldiers always resorted to violence amongst themselves to survive the course.

"And this is why we make a competition outta this!" Dore cheered. "Those idiots are tearing each other apart!"

"I must say, I knew the Saiyans were hardcore - but I didn't realize they were this cutthroat," Salza marveled. "Nobody's ever thought to chop the vines before."

"I guess Lord Cooler wasn't lying when he said his brother was scared of those guys," Neiz observed.

The rest of the course went smoothly - if you were a Saiyan, at least. There were a few hazards from the environment and animals, though it seemed like Gohan could thwart any living thing that snuck up on him no matter where they struck from. Of course, the other Saiyans hadn't figured out that Gohan could sense Ki.

Five hours and 27 minutes later, the Saiyans leaped down a cliff and were right back where they started with Salza, Neiz and Dore waiting for them. With nobody else around to see besides the other Saiyans, Vegeta bent down on one knee to gather himself; he'd rarely felt so much exhaustion beyond direct combat. The other Saiyans weren't in much better shape; Gohan had to lay down, even. He'd taken the most physical punishment of the Saiyans and after three and a half hours of running, it all piled up.

"A little over 30 minutes to spare, Saiyans; somewhat impressive," Salza remarked. With his face obscured, Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Your unit gets a point. Stay put until time is up. I want the rest of them to know who won."

Ten minutes later, Arepa arrived. Being the only one of Cui's crew not to pester the Saiyans worked to her favor, though her armor was notably torn up. She didn't stand still for even two seconds before passing out. Gohan almost laughed until he remembered Vegeta was around; he didn't need another scolding.

A few minutes after Arepa returned, so did her "allies," Stroh, Beari, and Cui. Their scaly purple leader walked with a hole in his boot courtesy of the lava Vegeta's stunt had brought his feet dangerously close to. It left his webbed foot exposed, much to his embarrassment. As Vegeta continued catching his breath with his back turned, Cui stalked towards him with his right arm curled back to deliver his receipt.

Before he could strike, however, Gohan stepped in front of him. As far as he was concerned, Cui was the one due a receipt since it was his nonsense he started the back and forth between the two crews on the trail.

"And just what do you think you're doing, twerp?" Cui said, dismissing the half-Saiyan's blazing glare. "Outta my way, I owe your Alpha Ape for earlier!"

"Is that so?" asked a certain gruff voice.

Vegeta, having cursed himself for not being aware of Cui and needing Gohan to back him up, whirled around to his rival. Though he was short on fuel, his eyes produced flames in abundance. Raditz and Nappa soon joined the fracas.

"Hey!" Salza shouted. "As much as I'd like to see a brawl, calm it down." Dore's groans fell on Salza's deaf ears.

The feisty fighters followed orders, but let their glares linger. Revealing the immature child that still lived beneath his stoic front, Gohan pulled down his eyelid and stuck his tongue out at Cui and his men. Vegeta snarled at Gohan out of embarrassment, but then Cui and Beari went and did it right back; Vegeta looked up to the Gods in the sky with utter bafflement.

Arepa woke back up having missed the whole confrontation. She barely even regained her bearings before Cui barked at her.

"Get over here, Arepa!" Cui shouted. Arepa ignored her aching, weighed down limbs and rushed over to her crew with little certainty about the commotion.

"So is this like, the starin' contest portion of the obstacle course or somethin'?" she asked.

"Quiet!" Cui and Stroh ordered. Arepa folded her arms with a huff. Gohan let the smallest half-smile creep to his lips for a brief second. Just enough for Vegeta not to see, at least.

With Arepa killing the tension, the crews dispersed and took makeshift seats on a few stray logs. As the clock drew closer to six hours, six other soldiers joined the scene. Three of them passed out from exhaustion before they even reached Cooler's men.

Dore's timer went off just after some of the others made it down. "TIME! Sorry, but the rest of you assholes are late!"

Salza scanned over the number of soldiers within their vicinity. "Twelve. Twelve soldiers, out of 48 beat the timer. Three quarters of you can't even make it through the course in time. If this is what his best men can do, no wonder Frieza needs us training them!"

Vegeta snickered; Neiz sure as hell wasn't talking about his crew. He shifted his focus to Gohan, thinking about how the boy took up for him against Cui. In his mind, Vegeta could see the beam from Planet Linden racing to his face while he stood powerless, and Gohan kicking him out of the way at the last second.

Raditz and Nappa only ever stuck their neck out for Vegeta when instructed, and that was only after he exhausted all other options. His harsh rejection of Nappa's help during the course was just a sample of Vegeta's many harsh rejections of his subordinates' unsolicited help. Vegeta put a lot of effort into appearing strong; he had to, in this world.

But there was something different with Gohan. The full-bloods' faulty assistance came from loyalty; it was their duty as Saiyans. Gohan, a half-breed from a far-removed planet, had no concept of that. Supposedly, he didn't even like Vegeta. He helped simply because he could; a conversation he had with a certain technician made it obvious that it was just how he operated.

A symptom of Gohan's compassion that Vegeta sought to weed out. Yet, if the boy didn't act on altruistic impulse, Vegeta wouldn't have been sitting there at the moment.

Whatever, Vegeta mentally scoffed. A tangled thought the heartless Prince of Saiyans didn't feel like unpacking at the moment.

"The twelve of you who actually made it through can go to the forest out north to hunt," Salza instructed, pointing his thumb in that direction. "The rest of you weaklings better go to the facility to get your scouters and only get your scouters. If you linger there for long we'll know you're trying to use a healing tank."

Desperately craving sustenance, the lucky dozen headed for the woods. It was a small patch of land densely populated with trees, layered with an intense mist and an aroma of blood. So strong were they both, that many had a hard time even scoping out signs of animals. Even the Saiyans, whose acute senses made them natural hunters, struggled to make out their surroundings.

Well, every Saiyan except for one. With his Ki sense, Gohan easily scoped out a wolf nearby and struck the back of its neck to bring its life to a painless end. The attack triggered a fearful dispersion from the other concealed animals, exposing themselves to the more privy Saiyan elders. Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz weren't as merciful as Gohan, gruesomely attacking their prey.

Just as Gohan was leaving the trees with the other Saiyans while dragging the wolf carcass behind, he saw Beari closing in on a deer. Feeling spiteful, he put the wolf down, dashed forward and kicked the red bear into a tree.

"That's for grabbing my tail earlier!" Gohan shouted. The deer ran off, but Gohan caught up to it, calmly chopped its neck, and hauled it over his shoulders while dragging the dead wolf with him to his crew.

All three Saiyans sat around a fire with their kills piled up, approving of Gohan's violence. "Now you're starting to get it," Raditz snickered

Most pleased of all was Vegeta. It was about damn time the boy made genuine efforts to assert himself. Dare he say, he was proud. The layers of his mind assumed it was merely the teacher in him speaking and nothing more.

Gohan tossed his two carcasses into the fire and took a seat. Truthfully, he felt embarrassed with himself for acting on a negative impulse, but he needed to make it known that he wasn't to be pushed around. Just as the Saiyans were about to eat, a cacophonic voice robbed their attention with its whining

It was Beari, charging at Gohan. "You're gonna be sorry for that!" he screamed as all four Saiyans stood up with their shoulders squared for a battle with Cui's whole gang. Just as Beari jumped up to attack, however, Cui and Stroh seized him by the arms.

"Easy now!" Cui yelled, tightening grip on Beari's massive arms. "Don't worry, we'll get these monkeys back soon enough."

"Don't make me laugh," Vegeta said. "You just didn't want your teddy bear to end up as our next meal."

Even Gohan smirked when Beari ravenously tried to rip free from Cui and Stroh's restraint. That overgrown bear squirming around like a colicing baby was a sight too funny for words. Stroh and Cui dragged Beari back into the forest, hoping to find something before time expired.

With their animals cooked thoroughly, Nappa wasted no time in tearing a leg off of his kill's head and biting a chunk out of it. "Oh yeah, now this is what I'm talking about! It's been so long since we've eaten real food!"

"At least you waited for the meat to cook this time," Raditz snickered as he tore into his food. "Though I think you learned your lesson from Lifera."

While Nappa growled at Raditz, Vegeta swung his head back and laughed even as some of the chunks of his food spilled from his mouth. Gohan cracked a small smile, rarely ever seeing Vegeta actually enjoy himself. "What happened?" he asked.

"Planet Lifera, miserable old planet we purged," Vegeta said in between carnivorous bites. "The inhabitants were absolutely disgusting to look at but this big oaf was so starved he just ate their corpses raw." Gohan grimaced at such a casually barbaric description.

Happy to pile on, Raditz added, "He didn't realize how many parasites and worms lived in those overgrown bugs. You did a helluva number on those space pods on the way back!'

"My biggest regret in life might be not having a photograph of Zarbon's face when he saw the inside of that pod," Vegeta said, covering his mouth to halt his laughter.

With a peevish scowl, Nappa chucked his food down and folded his arms, incoherently mumbling about how it wasn't even that bad. Even Gohan had to join in on the laughs, having never had a moment with the Saiyans where there wasn't a macabre tension hanging over everything. For once, he saw them all as guys screwing around and joking. It was...comfortable.

Much like they'd done with the obstacle course, the Saiyans outdid their fellow soldiers in the combat training. The 1,000 push-ups, 2,000 situps, 1,500 squats and 500 pull-ups against tree branches were only the beginning. The first round saw every soldier have to line up and deflect a barrage of energy blasts rained down on them by Salza. They had to withstand it for thirty minutes, and anyone hit would have their timers reset immediately; Cooler's squadron had their scouters linked to the soldiers' and could reset their timers with a simple vocal command. Vegeta and Cui, the strongest of the bunch, finished in thirty minutes clean and moved onto completely destroying the heavily fortified giant trees with only their fists and feet.

From there, they had to snap 5,000-pound weights chained to their arms and legs with their energy, withstand 50 energy blasts from Dore without being knocked down, find a white tiger, seize one of its long teeth and keep it driven into their shoulder for ten minutes and find a way to wrap up the wound (those with body suits like Gohan, Vegeta, and Arepa used pieces of their clothes).

The final challenge? Neiz, revealing the mutant nature of his race, split himself into ten bodies that each unit had to knock unconscious. Only a few crews could pull it off in under an hour. Though Neiz's power level was divided amongst the clones, the soldiers were so beaten down that even Vegeta and Cui struggled despite being stronger than them at full-strength.

After a day that had taken the lives of ten soldiers out of the 48 that arrived on the planet turned into night, the Saiyans were the first to stumble into healing tanks. They had snatched up nearly every point there was to take, asserting their dominance over Frieza's top ranks. The healing tanks were a welcome reward for their mighty efforts.

Well, until after only ten paltry minutes, a timer went off that led to the healing solution draining back into a pump and the glass door popping back open.

"Wh-What?" Gohan asked as he ripped off his breathing mask. He looked around, wondering if there was some sort of mistake. However, Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz emerged from their tanks soon after with similar confusion.

"The hell's going on?!" Nappa groaned. "Why's it over already?! I'm still aching like hell!"

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the screen display next to the tanks. In red letters against a black screen, a "0:00" figure blinked on and off. "Now I see. It's locked to a timer."

"Seriously?!" Gohan yelled. His "healing" had effectively been the equivalent to a few bandaids and kisses from mom.

"Figures," Raditz muttered. "No use complaining, I guess."

With his body frankly still thrashed, Gohan limped to his cot. Just as he began his climb up top, a finger tapped his shoulder - Arepa. Beneath the litany of cuts, bruises, and swollen eye was a smile as she raised her fist.

"Those other idiots won't say it, but you guys kicked ass." She extended her fist out to Gohan, who gladly punched it back.

"You didn't do too bad, either."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'mma be tumblin' to a healin' tank," she said as she turned around and walked off with a pronounced limp.

Gohan watched as Arepa stepped into the tank that was doomed to only grant her ten minutes of relief. He laughed thinking of what her ensuing reaction would be, though he planned on being asleep by then. Though Cui and his crew were jerks, at least he had one friend among them. While his scouter limited where he could move his head, Gohan nonetheless fell asleep.

A fist slamming against his cot woke Gohan up after only four hours of sleep. Through his half-lidded eyes, he could see the agitated faces of Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz glaring at him.

"Wake the hell up, boy!" Vegeta yelled. "What the hell happened to your scouter?!"

Vegeta and the others had been woken up by a loud siren that blared directly into their ears from the scouter. Gohan, on the other hand, lifted his hand to his left eye and realized he didn't have his.

"I don't-"

"HEY!"

The Saiyans all turned around to see Neiz scowling from the doorway. "I thought we said you have to wear your scouter even while you sleep, runt!"

"But it was on when I went to bed!"

Gohan's defense meant nothing to Neiz, and before he could press any further Neiz hit him with a bright, pink blast. The energy surrounded Gohan's entire body and unleashed a surge of unceasing electricity on it, reducing Gohan only to ear-piercing screams of blistering agony.

Vegeta advanced towards Neiz out of instinct, but knew it was for naught. The toad-like soldier didn't cease his attack either, keeping Gohan submerged in the supercharge even as it thoroughly tore through his body.

"You might want to get out before 0500, Saiyans!" Neiz warned. There was little they could do but leave Gohan behind. They missed Cui and his crew laughing at Gohan before they joined them outside. Arepa however, wasn't among them. She couldn't get herself to turn away, her eyes glued to Gohan's suffering. A heaviness weighed down on her features as Gohan's screams wreaked havoc on her ears.

"Hurry up and get out of here, brat! The boy hasn't learned, yet!"

With a growl, Arepa marched out with her eyes squeezed shut. When she met Cui, she opened them back up and stared icicles into her boss.

After five minutes, Neiz relinquished his electric grip on Gohan, the bright light fading. Smoke emanated from Gohan's charred skin as his body collapsed, earning callous cackles from Cooler's soldier.

"Hope ya make it on time!" Neiz taunted before he left Gohan to convalesce.

With his body violently convulsing, Gohan was unable to move. He could only linger with his body to the floor, the burning smell of his own flesh invading his nostrils. Through the numbing pain that robbed him of any feeling in his limbs, Gohan could only think about the scouter.

He knew he had it on when he went to sleep. Hell, it had kept him from sleeping comfortably on his left side like he typically preferred. Somebody had to have removed it. That rat Cui or his lackey Beari, no doubt.

After what felt like hours, Gohan could finally feel his fingers twitch. The pads had made it considerably harder for him to get any real sensation back. With the effort it took to fire a full-power Kamehameha, Gohan pointed his arms forward and clawed his fingers to the wooden floor to crawl ahead. He wouldn't let dirty tricks or electricity set him back; if he was going to be strong, he would have to endure it. Above all else, Gohan strove to be a survivor.

By the time he inched passed the doorway, he'd regained enough sensation in his legs to lift himself a few inches off the ground and lunge ahead. It sped up his journey to the waypoint, but in the last way he wanted - with his body tumbling down the hill until he landed face-first into one of the many discarded scouters.

Everybody was gone. They'd all long started the obstacle course. All that remained were Salza, Dore, and of course, Neiz. And they were all smirking at Gohan.

"You're late," Salza said.

With all the strength he had, Gohan pulled himself up - only for Salza to form a blade of Ki and slash his chest, cutting through both his armor and the heavy padding to slice open a wound. Too far gone to worry about his pride and appearing strong, Gohan screamed and clutched his chest while he fell back down. The three officers laughed as he coughed and writhed in the snow.

"Don't waste time suffering, brat!" Dore yelled. "The clock's tickin' and you're damn near an hour behind."

An hour?! Determined not to let the soldiers break him, Gohan sat back up and ignored his nerves screaming out at him. "A-An hour behind, huh…?" He asked, coughing blood as he did. "No...no problem…!"

The trio laughed as Gohan limped away. "Runt's not short in spirit, that's for sure," Dore said.

It didn't matter if his muscles were spasming with every movement, or that his head was aching worse than it ever had in his life, or that blood was dampening his chest padding. It didn't matter that the padding still bore an excruciating weight on his body. Gohan was going to make it through the course just as he'd done the day before. Cui would regret his deception some way or another.

He crawled under the fiery barbed wire. He swam down the river of ice. The vines that Vegeta cut the day before were wrapped haphazardly around a tree stump on the other distant cliff. Though his tingly fingers nearly sent him to the lava down below on a few occasions, he made it across.

Somehow, he powered through every remaining obstacle.

But by the time he skidded down the cliff and collapsed, the rest of the soldiers were already gathered. All he could think about before he collapsed to the ground was his Last Place status.

"And the runt returns…" Salza said, though he was impressed Gohan even survived.

Among the soldiers gathered were Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz, who seethed as they sat atop a log and saw their youngest ally lay on the snow. The worst-case scenario happened: only Cui, Stroh, and Arepa made it through the obstacle course in six hours. Oh, the first two used every dirty trick in the book, but they did it. And that meant the Saiyans were left to starve while their insufferable rivals enjoyed a feast. Although Arepa refused to eat, instead sitting with her arms folded and scowling nastily.

"Ha, I'm surprised that little chimp is alive!" Cui yelled with a mouthful, balefully, of bear meat.

Just the sound of his voice made Gohan whip his head up and ignore the indomitable soreness wreaking havoc on his body. He popped right back up with teeth bared, his steely eyes chained to the purple fish.

"You took my scouter, didn't you?!" Gohan yelled, pointing his finger.

While Arepa's head sank, Cui just laughed and kept gorging on his meal. "Hey, don't blame me for your lack of discipline, kid!"

However, Salza had no horse in the race and just wanted to get to the bottom of it. "You think so, huh? Well, let's see." He pressed a button on his scouter and pulled up a directory listing the serial numbers of every scouter distributed to the planet. "Scouter! Scan," he commanded.

Cui stopped chewing so boldly when Salza floated up to the sky and flew towards the rest facility. He stopped to glare at Arepa, whose eyes were averted from him. When Salza returned from behind the building with a blue scouter coated with snow in his hand, Cui shot up.

"Well, it would appear that a scouter was left behind the premises," Salza said with a smug smile. "Now, let's check the video to see what happened."

Cui prepared to speak, but Arepa beat him to the punch.

"Don't bother. I took it."

All eyes turned to the boiling little girl. More pertinently, Gohan's bewildered eyes darted to her. It...it couldn't have been true, could it? Before he could ask her after reconfiguring his scrambled mind, Arepa stood up and snarled at her boss.

"Stop actin' all shocked, Cui! You made me do it!" Arepa yelled.

"I...have no idea what you're talking about!" Cui laughed nervously, his eyes darting back and forth between Arepa scowl and Vegeta's bloodthirsty gaze.

Gohan's mental grip had checked out long before Arepa and Cui's argument. His thoughts only harkened back to Vegeta's advice the day before:

"Don't think for one second that girl is your 'friend.'"

The sharp knife of betrayal twisted through Gohan's irrational head. Vegeta had been right all along, huh?

"Well, regardless of who ordered whom, I think there's only one appropriate punishment for this," Salza said with a twisted smirk that made Arepa's heart pound. However, he craned his head to Gohan's. "And since you suffered, boy, I'll let you dish it out. Just try not kill her, yes?"

Being forced to do the "honors" brought Gohan's mind back to reality - Arepa had just followed orders. She didn't do it to hurt him, and so he couldn't bring himself to strike her for her misdeed. The same girl that stole his scouter was the same girl that saved his life on Planet Linden. The same one that always managed to lift his spirits when he was around her.

Seeing Gohan's hesitation, however, Salza decided to shake things up. "Well, little one, if you're reluctant to do it then how about this: we'll make it a fight. The winner takes the loser's team's points."

"What?!" Gohan shouted. He looked back at Arepa, who withdrew her eyes to the snow.

With that ruling, Vegeta had no patience for his protege's compassion. He stood up with his eyes narrowed. "Well?! You heard the man."

Sweat trickled down Gohan's head. There was a clear threat resting beneath Vegeta's tone.

Cooler's men and the other soldiers stepped back to form a circle and watch the fight ensue. Only Vegeta, Cui, and the two reluctant children stood in the center. Arepa hadn't moved, feeling like she deserved whatever was going to come to her. Cui slapped her in the back of the head.

"Don't look like that, you tattle-tailing brat!" Cui scolded. "You better beat that little monkey or you'll have hell in store for you!"

Vegeta was far more subdued, however, and folded his arms. "Look at yourself, boy. All that bullshit you've endured today because of her. Because of them. Do not let them win, do you hear me?"

Faintly nodding, Gohan turned to face Arepa, who had warily assumed a fighting stance. Despite all of his growth, Gohan found himself mentally back on Planet Trident, where he, like now, was forced to go against himself to appease Vegeta.

When he killed Mentos. When he was just following orders.

When he was just following orders.

Gohan following orders got Mentos killed. Arepa following orders left Gohan a mess, still barely even able to stand. As he watched her strained stance, he focused on her colors; or rather, his old colors. She looked just as he did back then - when he was weak, whining, and whimpering.

Maybe it was the electric shock scrambling his brain chemistry, but Gohan no longer saw Arepa standing across from himself. He saw what he didn't want to be anymore - his former self, the kid his father expected to see zapped to him when he summoned Shenron.

Gohan's brows furrowed. His fists squeezed so hard the fabric of his gloves tore. That kid was so weak, letting himself be pushed around like a doll. No more of that. Blue ice submerged the body across from him, cracks forming.

With a reserve of power locked deep inside, Gohan burst forward and punched Arepa in the face, sending her straight ahead into a tree. Feeling her face meet his fist brought Gohan back to the normal world; he just hoped that was enough to finish it.

On the other hand, feeling Gohan's fist crack her jaw ignited Arepa's fire. Free of her pensiveness, Arepa leaped from the tree and swung her tiny leg at Gohan's face hoping to pay him back; but even with his body in unimaginable pain, Gohan swung out of the way and batted her into the snow.

"Just stay down, dammit!" Gohan shouted. His pleading tone made Vegeta studiously tilt his head.

"You better get up, Arepa!" Cui shouted.

"SHUT UP!" Arepa wasn't alone. She, Vegeta, and Gohan had all shouted it to him at once.

Brushing her face off, Arepa jumped right back at Gohan and tried to punch him in the face, but only met the palms of his hands. Gohan wrapped them around her wrists and flung her into a mound of snow.

"You're not strong enough," he said through his teeth. He hadn't just been talking to her.

Whatever Gohan was doing, he didn't realize just how much it infuriated Arepa. He was patronizing her, treating her like a charity case that didn't deserve his time. She hadn't willingly made herself a soldier to be treated that way even by a friend.

"Don't say that again," Arepa warned, her voice low. The pair of icicles that were her pupils sparkled with fury and made Gohan buckle. She ran at Gohan but instead of attacking, she nimbly slid between his legs, popped up behind his back, and grabbed his perpetually-uncoiled tail

"Oh, come on!" Napp yelled from the crowd as Gohan sank to the ground.

"Excellent work," Cui said with a grin. "You'll be a good soldier, yet!"

While she was glad to exploit Gohan's glaring weakness, hearing that slimy fish sing her praises for it made Arepa freeze. Cui's cowardly footsteps were the last thing she wanted to follow. And above all else, she didn't truly want to beat Gohan this way.

So, she let go.

"What are you doing?!" Cui screamed.

Moments later, Gohan stumbled back to his feet and turned around to face Arepa with a venom in his eyes that she couldn't recognize. She'd known Gohan to be the weird, gentle kid, not the feral boy scoping her like prey. Unconsciously, she stepped back.

"Don't ever touch my tail again." Amongst the snow and the windchill, Gohan's low growl of a voice was the coldest thing in the air.

In a split second, he leveled her abdomen with his knee. Not even the half-ton of padding weighing him down could impede his blistering speed. As she flew backwards, Gohan sped ahead of her with both of his fists curled back. When she met him, he viciously slammed both fists into the back of her neck, dropping her down like a stone. He met her at the ground and kicked her like discarded trash. His temper hadn't been satisfied, however, because when he stalked towards her he lifted his boot above her face.

Her unconscious face.

Seeing her mouth hung open and helplessly sucking air snapped Gohan out of his blind rage. Repulsed by his actions, he fell into the snow. It was the grip around his tail that did it - being on the receiving end of another trap had cracked his mental faculties. He struggled to catch his breath while he got a hold of himself.

"Aw, I hoped it was better than that," Dore said. "Whelp, so much for ya points, Cui!"

"Worthless little twerp," Cui spat as he dragged Arepa away and tried to hide himself from Vegeta, who he was sure was snickering at him.

He was wrong to assume such. Vegeta stared at Gohan with an unreadable expression. As the commotion died down and the fighters reconvened amongst themselves, he sat back down on a log. Gohan joined him.

"Talk, kid."

Gohan blinked. "Um, huh?"

"What the hell was that?"

"I guess, I just lost it on her, I-"

"Not that. That was what you should've done from the beginning. She caused you pain, and you made her pay," Vegeta dryly explained. "But not only did you clearly want no part of it, you clearly regret whatever trance snapped you into it."

Gohan frowned and looked at Arepa out of the corner of his eye. She was still out cold. Vegeta hadn't been wrong.

"Kiyomi told me about what happened with Zarbon a few weeks ago," Vegeta said.

"You and Kiyomi talk?"

"Yes, we meet over tea and chat about our days," Vegetea dismissed with a snort. "She's one of the few non-Saiyans that doesn't test my patience, so if she addresses me, I'll answer." With a lascivious grin, he added, "That, and I'd like to see how she looks with her armor off and her legs wrapped around me."

"Huh?"

"Anyway," Vegeta said, remembering he was talking to a five-year-old and not Nappa or Raditz, "She said you let Zarbon and Dodoria attack you over the pod tracker business to protect her and that other guy. What the hell were you thinking?"

With a tense stare, Gohan gave his answer some thought. "They're the only people who were nice to me. I don't rat out friends."

"'Friends.' How ridiculous. Do you know what friendship is, Gohan?" Vegeta turned so he was facing Gohan directly. "A tool that can be used against you. Zarbon couldn't have cared less about those pods, he just went after those two to screw with you. And then he put that girl on the side of my most hated rival hoping we'd be compromised."

Gohan didn't take his eyes off of Vegeta as he mulled over his words. They weren't wrong. It didn't matter if Arepa was just doing what she was told. Cui had the power and the authority, so he could get her to act against him whenever he pleased.

As if he read Gohan's mind, Vegeta stated, "As I keep trying to tell you, boy, power rules all. The only people you need are the ones that won't drag it down."

Gohan stopped to glance at Arepa, who had woken up to a harsh admonishment from Cui. Even after everything, he still couldn't stand to see her get pushed around; but Vegeta was right. His goal wasn't making friends - it was the defeat of Frieza.

In Gohan's vision, that icy blue in Arepa's eyes spread through her body, freezing her in the middle of yelling at Cui. Gohan squeezed his shut to rid himself of the hallucination and turned away from her.

Maybe that was what his dream was all about. Growing too attached to people would not only freeze himself up, but get them hurt. He didn't reject Earth to free himself of that attachment just to grow attached to people in this twisted life, too.

With a chilly breeze blowing against his purple and gold uniform and bristling his hair, Gohan decided he was done with caring. Done with the half-ton of padding weighing him down.

Of course, given his musings from the day before, the deepest corner of Vegeta's mind wondered if he was making a mistake.

Chapter Text

“I’d like to congratulate both of you for finishing at the top of the training camp rankings.”

Frieza sloshed his wine glass as he observed the eight soldiers lined up before him in his throne room. On one side, the Saiyan crew led by Vegeta; on the other side, Cui’s. The rival squads finished Cooler’s camp tied for most cumulative points - Saiyans got there through raw talent, Cui through underhanded tactics. It had been a brutal month-long ordeal, but they’d all come out better for it. 

“Forty-eight soldiers stepped in, and just under half stepped out.” With an insincere sigh, Frieza frowned and placed his hand to his chest. “While the loss of every single one of those lives weighs heavily on my conscience, I’m sure they can rest easy knowing that the collective growth exceeded their worth. I mean, Vegeta - 24,000 now?! Stupendous!”

Even hearing the words from Frieza couldn’t quell Vegeta’s smirk. The cam had given him the exact results he was looking for, granting him a 30% power increase from the constant punishment on his body. And not just him - Raditz in particular had nearly doubled his power; fortunate given that everyone who finished the camp with a power level below 2,000 was slaughtered.

“I suppose it’s quite auspicious I had Zarbon and Dodoria train under the Ginyu Force’s supervision as well; they might have been in trouble!”

That made Vegeta frown, and given the coy smile Frieza wore, that was the ruler’s very intention. Vegeta had hoped he could finally swing his weight around the two ass-kissers, but he should have known Frieza would never give his strength the chance to flourish without ensuring his inner circle stayed ahead.

“And Gohan, the runaway candidate for rookie of the year, you are! But a young pup and just over 8,000.”

Vegeta could hardly believe the number himself when Salza scanned it, and he still couldn’t now. After their talk, Gohan took on a relentless, business-like approach to training. He’d hardly reacted to the number then, and he still wasn’t. The Prince had never seen a Saiyan grow so quickly - not even himself. Yet for the most extraordinary Saian specimen possibly ever, Gohan sure didn’t seem to enjoy it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vegeta looked to his left at Cui’s crew, specifically Arepa. The rift between her and Gohan had undoubtedly been the source of the latter’s sour demeanor, but it had to be done if Gohan ever planned to be cut out to war with the tyrant standing before them.

“That’s not to say your crew hasn’t also been a gleam of light, Cui! In fact, that is why I’ve summoned both of you right now,” Frieza said, taking one final sip of his glass before setting it down. “As you know, both of you are due for promotions, which was a result I didn’t expect. So I gave it some thought…”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. He didn’t like Frieza’s tone one bit.

“I asked myself, ‘Self, what is the value of an A-Ranked Squad if there’s so many of them?’” The eccentric overlord cupped his hand to his chin in a thinking gesture. A bead of sweat swam down Vegeta’s head. “And so, I have decided to instead create a veritable Dream Team A-Squad!”

Cui’s already wide eyes were even wider. And he wasn’t alone.

“That’s right, gentlemen & lady - I am hereby merging your two crews into one squad!”

Though everyone was shocked, the faces of the two leaders paled to sickly shades. Vegeta and Cui had despised each other since childhood. They could hardly even process the words Frieza had just spoken. 

Though Vegeta still had enough sense to know better not to dispute Frieza, Cui was so dumbstruck he couldn’t help but speak up. “F-Frieza, my Lord...is this necessary?”

With treacherously narrowed eyes, Frieza gave his answer. “If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked, Cui.”

The two rival crews looked back and forth. Vegeta and Cui did little to hide their collective disgust, and the same was true for Stroh & Beari and Nappa & Raditz. The two children on the other hand, only exchanged awkward, pensive stares.

His brief warning done, Frieza perked back up. “Turn those frowns upside down, men! This is a tremendous opportunity for growth I’m giving you all! We are only stronger when united. Though you are the strongest of the bunch, Vegeta, I shall grant you and Cui joint authority!”

“WHAT?!” Yeah, now Vegeta had to speak. This went against everything instilled into him; everything he instilled into Gohan. This was yet another incidence in the colossal line of Frieza jerking him around.

Frieza giggled and tapped his pink scouter. “And don’t forget, with these new scouters and their provisions, I can both see and hear what goes on if I so please; so I expect you two to make decisions with civility. You need to learn not to settle everything with your fists, dear Prince. You will be much better for this in the end.”

Vegeta just averted his eyes to the floor with his teeth clenched, the only gestures blocking the obscenities in his head from leaving his mouth. Despite the lack of respect and Nappa’s stupidity, Vegeta’s only solace in his servitude was that he didn’t have to regularly cooperate with anyone not possessing Saiyan blood. But this ? It was an insult and Frieza knew it.

“Well, Dream Team, I hope you use your time wisely before your first joint mission. You are all dismissed!”

The crews - crew, rather - made their strained exit from the room, though Vegeta didn’t join them. He just stood with his jaw hung open, trying to understand why he was stuck with such a nonsensical burden.

Frieza only took humor out of his anguish, however. “After all these years, I still fail to understand you, Vegeta. Finally getting a greater taste of that rulership you were robbed of, yet you’re reacting like you just got the news of your planet’s demise all over again.”

No answer from Vegeta. Frieza’s countenance grew less welcoming.

“You’d do well to appreciate all it is I do for you, Vegeta.” His voice lowered to a haunting drawl. “You don’t have much left to your name, after all. You don’t want to become amongst those that you’ve lost, no?”

Still no answer. So Frieza cleared his throat.

“No, sir,” Vegeta finally heaved. Dread to receive another order, he turned on his heel and left the room; his ears flinched when they picked up Frieza’s fleeting chuckles. As soon as the doors closed, Vegeta punched a dent into the wall across. He didn’t give a damn about the damages.

Vegeta’s outburst alarmed most in the hall, but not the two children who stared at each other in silence. Gohan hadn’t spoken a word to Arepa since his outburst after she grabbed his tail. Since Vegeta told him to disregard friends. He’d heeded the advice well.

“Sorry ‘bout your scouter...and your tail,” Arepa said in a guarded tone. She looked off to the side, almost to avoid Gohan’s hollow gaze.

“Okay.”

That was all Gohan said before he turned around and headed for a training room, basically leaving Arepa hanging. To him, it didn’t matter if they were forced to be on the same side, where Arepa wouldn’t be forced to act against him. He couldn’t allow himself to grow attached to her; he just needed to focus on growing his ever-expanding power.

When he reached one of the training facilities, he groaned when he saw Stroh and Beari standing inside. His scorn was mutual, as the two men sneered at him upon arrival. Wishing to limit his interactions with his new crewmates as much as possible, Gohan turned on his heel to find another room.

“Fine, go! We don’t need a chimp weighing down our training,” said the high voice of Beari.

With a growl, Gohan stopped. He wasn’t about to let a slight from those two weaklings stand. “Watch how you talk to me!”

The teal-skinned man and the red-furred bear exchanged glances and laughed boisterously. “What are you gonna do about it, twerp?!” Beari asked.

“If you two can talk so much, you can take him, right?”

Gohan turned around to the voice - Arepa. She stood with her arms folded and a scowl towards her two partners. The half-Saiyan cocked his eyebrow at her, wondering what brought her to their business.

“Oh, butt out, Arepa!” Stroh said.

Beari laughed in agreement. “Yeah, like you really think your lil’ boyfriend’s gonna pay attention to you again for this!”

While Arepa’s face reddened with anger, Gohan threateningly advanced towards the two. “Hey, shut up!”

“Make us!” Beari challenged, folding his arms with a toothy smirk. “I bet our lunches that you can’t take us in a spar.”

The two children glanced at each other. If there was anything they could agree on, it was their disdain for the pair who stood across. With a nod of agreement, they turned their faces forward.

“Bring it on, then!” Gohan crouched into a fighting stance, as did Arepa. Stroh and Beari did the same, and as soon as they did, Gohan zipped forward and slammed Beari into the wall with only his forearm. Spar over.

Stroh grabbed Arepa by her arm and tossed her into the wall, but the plucky girl leaped off of it from her feet and flew fist first inte his gut. The force brought Stroh to his knees, allowing Arepa to kick him for good measure.

“Looks like we’ll be eatin’ good, then,” Arepa taunted as she dusted her hands off. She didn’t see it with her back to him, but Gohan cracked a smile. He forced it back as quickly as he could, however, and marched past her to the mess hall to cash in on his win. He missed Arepa’s brooding change in expression as he left.

When he reached the mess hall, Vegeta, Nappa and Raditz were already eating their pedestrian meals, while Cui ate separately; nothing said that the new “Dream Team” had to interact beyond missions, after all. Gohan could tell just from how briskly Vegeta grabbed his mash of beans and chewed on them that he hadn’t cooled off a bit from Frieza’s choice. 

“I can’t believe we have that fish freak and his idiots dragging us down, now,” Raditz. “We’ll never get a good fight going if we have to clean up their messes.”

“Not much different from working with you,” Nappa quipped, to Raditz’s displeasure. “Nah, but you’re right. What’s Frieza thinking?”

Gohan looked at Vegeta, waiting for an answer that never came. With the increased surveillance, Gohan knew why his Prince chose to keep it silent - the truth that it was just another measure to restrict the Saiyans’ power. Their substantial leap would not go “unpunished,” Gohan realized. He wondered just how long it would take to finally do something about Frieza - if he wouldn’t see the tyrant’s defeat until he was Vegeta’s age. It was a haunting thought.

Before they could finish eating, Cui approached the four Saiyans at their table. “Hey, shorty!”

Gohan assumed he was talking to him, but didn’t even look up to answer. 

“What’s this I hear about attacking Stroh and Beari, huh?!”

With an eye-roll, Gohan faced him to answer. “What? They called me out and wanted to challenge me and Arepa; bet their food on it. So we answered.”

“I’m not buying that!” Cui approached Gohan with enough hostility to get Vegeta standing in only a split-second. Though Cui inched back from the imposing Saiyan prince, he maintained his hostility towards the half-breed. “I think this calls for a punishment.”

Gohan rose to his feet at the threat, but Vegeta spoke for him. “Punishment, my ass. Don’t blame the boy for your little cronies writing a check their asses couldn’t cash.”

Vegeta’s defiant attitude never ceased to embolden Gohan, who smirked at Cui. “And I better not see those guys eating, ‘cause they owe me and Arepa.”

Cui scoffed. “You dare talk like that to your boss, brat?!”

“Yes, he does ,” Vegeta replied. “And as for those two punks who walk around with their lips on your ass, let them know that their boss says they better pay what they owe.”

While Cui and Vegeta stared daggers into each other, Gohan saw Stroh and Beari limp into the mess hall. They moved around the room, almost like they were trying to elude eyesight. Gohan smirked, content to let them try sneaking around. The two grabbed treys and set them down at the closest table, but not even two seconds later, Arepa came seemingly from nowhere to swipe them away. With a mischievous laugh, she set them down at the Saiyans’ table.

“I didn’t make the rules, boys!” she called out to the two as they protested.

“I better not catch you eating that, Arepa,” Cui warned just as the girl was lifting a withered steak to her mouth.

“Eat it,” Vegeta commanded.

Gohan darted his eyes between both leaders, cursing Frieza for his manipulation. It didn’t matter if he was trying to screw around with the Saiyans or not; giving two diametrically opposed leaders dual authority was just bad business. Small wonder his father had to intervene after Kabnet came to light, and that his brother’s men ran his training camps.

The confrontation captured the attention of the other soldiers sitting in the mess hall. Neither Vegeta nor Cui budged an inch as they stared each other down; with the way their fists were clenched, it sure looked like they were about to come to blows. Gohan wasn’t even focused on the food; he was just ready for whatever would unfold.

“Vegeta’s crew! Report to the launch room at once! It is urgent!”

The voice of Zarbon cut through both the scouters and the tension amongst the “Dream Team.” Vegeta took amusement in the fact that Zarbon addressed only him as the leader.

The divided front left the mess hall with haste, though Arepa grabbed that steak and tossed another one at Gohan. Like he had eyes in the back of his head, he caught it without turning around.

Zarbon waited for them in the launch room with an anxious expression, pressing his scouter like a madman. “One of our crews has been ambushed by Kabnet’s men on Planet Porridge. We need you there, ASAP!”

“Perfect,” Vegeta said with a ravenous grin.

The crew headed for their high-speed pods. Beari, the last in line, had a scouter shoved into his chest by Zarbon.

“Give this to Quincy, their leader. His scouter was destroyed.”

“Uh, okay.” Beari took the scouter and stepped inside his pod.

“Routing to Planet 0297 NO.”

Gohan pressed his fist against his palm in anticipation of a test for his newfound power. He didn’t know what type of warriors awaited on the planet he headed to, but if it was enough to require their immediate attention, he could bet it would be a real battle.

As soon as Gohan stepped out into the copper skies, he could see why his crew’s assistance was needed. Clouds of smoke emanating from toppled cliffs filled the air. Below his boot, a chunk of a Frieza Force armor plate lay.

Vegeta scanned the power levels on his scouter. “Alright, the strongest power levels I detect out west. My crew and I will handle that. Cui, you just make sure you and your fools don’t die.”

“Hogging the fun for yourself, are you Vegeta?!” Cui rebuked as Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. “We need to all attack together and take on whatever comes.”

“Of course a coward like you would like as much help as possible.” Rancid contempt colored every one of Vegeta’s syllables. “No thanks.”

“Oh sure, let’s go with your plan. Great way to get everybody killed!”

“Well don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Irritably planting his hands on his side, Gohan sighed. If anything was going to get everyone killed, it was the petty squabbling. He had to fight his urge to just go rogue and fly off to where he could feel the strong Ki signatures.

“Well there’s only one way to settle this,” Cui said with a foreboding tone, drawing nervous shudders from Cui’s men and Gohan.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Vegeta said, his eyes narrowing.

“Rock-Paper-Scissors!”

Vegeta looked at Cui like he just poofed into a literal fish, while Gohan and Arepa fell on their faces. Even Stroh and Beari shook their heads in embarrassment. From what Gohan could sense, Vegeta and Cui were fairly close in power yet Cui carried on like he was as helpless as the most average earthling.

“What’s wrong, Vegeta? Too chicken to lose to me? ” Cui said with that insidious smile.

Even over something as trivial as Rock-Paper-Scissors, Vegeta seethed over Cui’s challenge with a clenched fist. “Fine! Let’s just get on with it!”

The two leaders threw their fists out. While Vegeta went with scissors, Cui chose rock. 

“Of course I win!” Cui yelled, grinning from ear to ear. Vegeta snarled at his fingers, probably wishing to poke them into Cui’s engorged eyes.

“Latesies!” Gohan yelled. “You went a split-second after Vegeta.”

“Buzz off, twerp,” Cui scoffed. “A win’s a win, so I say we all go together.”

Stroh, Beari, and Cui flew west, and though the Saiyans clenched their teeth, they and Arepa followed. Gohan could feel a few dozen Ki signatures clashing with each otherthe intensity growing the closer they got. When the band of fighters made it within a few miles, a stray Ki blast flew their way.

Vegeta swiped it away, but that was the cue to charge in and fight. On one end, there were fighters wearing the Frieza Force armor, on the other, soldiers wearing the purple & gold uniforms from Kabnet’s organization.

“The Saiyans!” one of Kabnet’s soldiers, a tall, furry man with a face like a fox’s. “The bastards that took Kabnet out! After them, men!”

Of course, it was more like one Saiyan - Gohan - but the warriors would answer nonetheless. Kabnet’s soldiers turned their attention from the Frieza Force fighters they’d been engaged with and fired blasts at the Saiyans. With only a burst of his Ki, Vegeta sent them all away while Gohan, Nappa, and Raditz went on the offensive. They easily thwarted Kabinet’s reserves with only their fists, while Cui and his gang took on the scraps.

In the midst of the action, Beari attended to the wounded Frieza Force soldiers down below. A yellow man with long, green hair was the first one he spoke to. He was the lone fighter without a scouter. “Quincy! What the hell even happened here?!”

“We came here to purge and I think these bastards intercepted our scouters,” Quincy said, spitting out blood. “Speaking of which, didn’t Zarbon say you were bringing me a replacement?”

“Aw, crap, I forgot!” Beari replied, earning a scowl from Quincy. Beari looked up at the fight waging in the sky, a trail of nervous sweats spilling from his furry head. “Eh, these guys are handling it. I’ll go back and get your scouter from my pod.”

Beari took off, to Quincy’s bewilderment. He was going to yell to him that he could just get it when the fight was over, but then…

The fox zipped to Beari and kicked him in the head, snapping his neck. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

“Beari!” Cui yelled, seeing the incident as he fought. “That dumbass couldn’t even last a few minutes?!”

Not that it made much of a difference to Gohan and the Saiyans. In fact, as far as Gohan was concerned, he was more upset he didn’t get to do it himself. He briefly admonished himself for having the thought, allowing himself to get blasted in the face by one of Kabnet’s soldiers in the process. His scouter caught the worst of it, cracking and emitting sparks from the impact. After Gohan smacked against the ground, he rolled onto his hands and knees and pounded the pavement. Despite his resolution to detach himself, his mind still tortured him with doubt.

As Gohan stood back up and tossed his busted scouter away, a brown-skinned Frieza Force soldier dropped down next to him, breathing heavily. “I think your guys are taking care of business now, but a few of Kabnet’s men snuck into the city, too.”

Gohan nodded, knowing exactly what he was implying. He focused his senses out ahead and found a few strong Ki signals northbound. Feeling comfortable with how easily Vegeta and the others were picking apart Kabnet’s men, Gohan flew off to confront the remaining soldiers.

The city looked to already be under siege, with droves of citizens whose skin covered the entire color spectrum fled burning buildings. The Kabnet soldiers in purple & gold armor didn’t appear to be on the attack as much as they were in pursuit, possibly for more Frieza Force soldiers. Temporarily becoming the hero to Porridge’s citizens, Gohan took Kabnet’s men out with a barrage of Ki blasts. He groaned in disappointment, realizing that these guys weren’t a challenge after all.

There was one particularly strong Ki he felt in the direction of a few ruins, however. He flew towards the rubble of stone and bricks, searching for a body that hid itself well. The Ki signal emanated strongest from a slab of bricks leaning against a steel pillar.

Gohan pushed forward to leap, but stopped himself. Fearing a setup, he planted his feet firmly and raised his hand. “Show yourself, whoever you are! Or I’ll have to blast you out!”

No answer. So Gohan did as warned, blasting the slab of brick with just enough force to destroy it. As the smoke faded away, Gohan made a move to attack, but froze when he got a clearer vision of who had been hiding.

It was a boy. Probably a couple of years older than him. Wearing the purple and gold armor of Kabnet’s soldiers, he bore green skin and puffy, dark blue hair. Despite being on the enemy side, there wasn’t any malice in his eyes - in fact, they were twisted into a whimper as he sat with his arms resting above his knees. He spoke as a stunned Gohan withdrew his arm.

“Just do it.”

“What…?”

“I wish you would’ve sent me away with the bricks,” the green-skinned boy said. “I’m not gonna put up a fight, so just do it.”

Mystified, but sensing no ill intent, Gohan lowered his arm completely and stepped forward. The boy didn’t look up at Gohan at all; his eyes were just fixated on his hands, trembling. His lip quivered as he clenched his fingers against his knees. Gohan felt like he was looking at a mirror image of himself from his first night on Frieza’s base.

“But, why?” 

The boy’s brows furrowed while he clenched his teeth. “I just want to be done with this. All of this.”

Gohan froze.

Tears filled his eyes as he finally looked up at Gohan. “I was supposed to be an athlete, not this . I never wanted any of this, and Kabnet’s dead anyway. So just do it.”

I never wanted any of this.

I never wanted any of this.

I never wanted any of this .

Unconsciously, Gohan stepped back. The words spun through his head like a spiral; the very words he’d repeated to himself ad nauseam before he faced the reality of his circumstances. The half-Saiyan couldn’t find the words to say. What could he say? Scold him for not toughening up like he’s doing now? Had he even really embraced his own reality?

After a few moments, Gohan found an empty question. “Why don’t you just leave…?”

“Because it doesn’t matter if Kabnet’s dead. These men have put far too much into this nonsense to quit. They’ll see me as an enemy and go after me.”

Of course Gohan knew his answer. He’d turned down his own escape twice already for the very same reason. Even when given the chance to do it instantaneously.

“So, your home planet is still around, then?” Gohan asked.

The boy only nodded. In his face, Gohan saw the pain he felt within his own self every day he woke up in Frieza’s army. He wondered how long the boy had been stuck, and how he had been plucked away.

But he didn’t ask. He just stared at him until he nearly saw himself sitting there in his place. He thought he had finally cracked the code and learned all of Vegeta’s lessons, but he felt his ice cold resolve cracking like Boysen’s arm all over again.

“Just leave,” he finally said. “Kabnet’s men might be bad, but Frieza’s worse. He has his whole army mobilized against you guys, so they’ll be wiped out soon. Trust me, you don’t want to be on his radar.”

The boy stared at Gohan with confusion. “Why do you care? You’re one of Frieza’s men, too.”

Involuntarily, Gohan hissed through his teeth. The label got to him. Despite all he aspired to be, and all the reassurances he made to himself, this was what he was to the universe - just another one of Frieza’s men. Not Son Gohan, brilliant scholar.

With an anguished glare, he answered. “We’re a lot alike.” He parroted Vegeta’s frequent statements. “Except you can actually escape. So just do it.”

Oh, how Vegeta would have admonished Gohan right then. Try though he might, the half-Saiyan couldn’t part ways with his human side. He shouldn’t have cared one ounce about this green kid’s plight, instead gladly fulfilling his suicidal request. Even the boy himself bemusedly stared at him.

“I don’t understand-!”

“Just go!” Gohan yelled, resentful tears spilling from his eyes. “Don’t waste yourself, okay?! You can get out of this! You’ve got a ship, right?!”

The boy blinked a few times, almost wondering if he was hallucinating before shaking his head. “The other men from your army trashed it.”

Gohan tried to figure out a solution as he brushed his tears away. Beari, that idiot - he’d gotten his neck snapped by the fox, right?

“One of the soldiers I arrived with got killed. You can use his pod.” Gohan was fortunate his scouter had been destroyed, freeing their conversation of surveillance.

Though the green-skinned boy’s despair gradually gave way to intrigue, he wasn’t sold on the idea. “In a Frieza-marked pod? That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

With his first real smile in weeks, Gohan reassured the boy. “I can fix that.”

The boy lifted his head up, staring at Gohan with astonished eyes. Gohan hoped the boy trusted him; trusted him to lead him to what he’d desperately craved for himself. If he could free someone else of the shackles without consequences, then why not?

An explosion went off in the distance, alarming both children. Gohan’s smile twisted into an urgent frown. “Looks like the fight’s spreading over here, so we gotta hurry.”

The green boy turned his head to the source of the sound before whipping it back to Gohan’s. After one momentary staredown, he finally stood up. “I’ll do it. Just lead the way.”

The two stormed out of the city. Gohan ignored the Vegeta voice in his head questioning his actions. He didn’t care about his power at the moment, instead jumping at the chance to do what was right. The image of Mentos’s betrayed eyes before his demise still haunted Gohan’s memories. He needed this to work.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked, speeding up until they were next to each other.

“Gohan.”

“I’m Kobe.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. “Th-Thank you. I don’t really know what to say. You’re different from these others.”

“Not all of them...” Gohan said, his thoughts drifting to Arepa. She, too, had seen herself in Gohan and saved him because of it. But when Gohan saw himself in her, he snapped and lashed out. Despite his attempts to distance himself from her, his loss of control still weighed on his conscience.

They arrived at the plains where the “Dream Team’s” pods had left eight craters. Gohan floated down to the pod Beari had stepped out of earlier, just in case anybody with sharp memories was particular about which one they departed in.

“I’m gonna destroy the tracker in this thing,” Gohan said, sticking his hand inside the pod and firing a blast at the top right corner of the interior. “Alright, it should be good.”

“Thank you, again.” Kobe marched forward and crouched inside the pod. “I won’t forget your kindness, Gohan.”

Before Kobe closed the space pod, Gohan reached his hand out. “Wait, what are the coordinates of your home planet? I might know somebody who can make sure Frieza never sends anybody there.”

“It’s called Planet Mamba, coordinates 0824LA.”

“Got it.” Gohan wouldn’t dare forget those numbers. “Just press that red button on the control panel and tell it to reroute you to those coordinates.”

“Okay,” Kobe answered before looking back up at Gohan. For the first time, he smiled; hope glistened in his eyes. “I’ve done a lot of bad things before reaching this point. Maybe this will be you one day, Gohan. Don’t give up.”

Kobe’s message froze Gohan. Don’t give up . It was easy for this boy to say; Kabnet had ultimately proven himself defeatable, allowing all of those who were forced under his rule to find their own lives. That wasn’t an option under Frieza.

As the door to the space pod closed, that blue ice that had haunted Gohan for so long enveloped around Kobe’s skin. Losing his wits, Gohan reached his hand out, but by the time he could say anything, the door shut. Soon, the entire pod became encased in ice, even as it blasted off into the sky.

It left his sight, but not before his mind pictured it shattering.

His strength leaving him, Gohan fell and sat where the pod once stood. He wondered if he’d truly freed Kobe or just delayed his death by a few years. His hope was that Kiyomi or Lemo would be able to pull the necessary strings to keep his planet safe, but that didn’t answer his most piercing question:

Was anybody really “free” as long as Frieza and his empire lived?

So strong was Frieza’s rule that Gohan’s father ended up on a faraway planet called Earth. So strong was he, that Raditz went to Earth in hopes of finding him so they could have an ally to rid him and the Saiyans of their shackles. Nobody could truly escape a man who could reduce anyone into a distant memory depending on his mood.

Had he done Kobe just like he’d done Mentos?  Easing his conscience, but leading somebody to despair in the process? Despite everything, he couldn’t shed his empathy in a world that thrived off of its absence.

“Hey!”

It was Vegeta’s harsh voice yet again. Gohan looked up.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?! How long have you been sitting here?”

After taking a deep breath, Gohan stood back up and floated to meet Vegeta in the sky. The Prince had a few cuts and patches of dirt on his face and armor, but was otherwise sprightly.

“I uh...took a breather, I guess.” Gohan braced himself for Vegeta to snap at such a notion, but received his piercing gaze instead. 

“Hn. Your human side makes you impossible to read.” Gohan blushed in embarrassment. “Anyway, Kabnet’s men are finished. Zarbon wants us to purge the planet since those other guys are too worn out.”

Purge? Oh, right - that’s what Frieza’s men were originally there for. But still, Gohan blinked from hearing that word. Vegeta immediately took notice.

“What? Don’t tell me you needed a breather because those pests overwhelmed you.”

Gohan averterted his eyes from Vegeta’s lecturing stare. “No, it’s just...forget it, whatever.”

“Oh, come on. ”

Gohan whipped his head back up, caught off guard by Vegeta’s disgusted tone. As Gohan had grown far too accustomed to, Vegeta wore an irritable frown “After everything on Planet Zuna, after everything from fighting Kabnet’s people, after everything I’ve told you, you’re still hung up on killing?!”

“It’s different!” Gohan snapped. This time Vegeta was the one caught off-guard, his perpetually narrowed eyes ballooning. “All of those guys were attacking me. And you made me kill Mentos!”

“Mentos?” Genuine confusion filled Vegeta’s tone.

Of course Vegeta didn’t remember. “The kid from my first mission. I didn’t choose to do that on my own. You made me.”

“And…?”

“So I’m kinda not ready to kill innocent people!” Gohan snarled, eying Vegeta with the type of scorn he’d reserved only for Frieza. The pain from that first purge had hit him in the droves in the wake of his encounter with Kobe. The two Saiyans stared at each other for a few moments, Vegeta’s expression losing its surprise and becoming more studious. He folded his arms.

“You have a point.”

Surprised, Gohan snapped his head back. “Huh?”

“Not that killing is wrong,” Vegeta quickly scoffed. “That I was shortsighted to think killing in self-defense would make you truly understand. I don’t know what kind of rose-tinted bullshit you were raised to believe on Earth, but just remember this: death waits for us all. The question we all have to face is if we have what it takes to keep it waiting.”

Gohan narrowed his eyes, giving another of Vegeta’s lectures his full attention.

“Frankly, I don’t understand why you’re not comfortable with it, and I don’t really care. But know that everyone who falls before us wasn’t able to answer that question.” Vegeta pointed his thumb at the smoky ruins behind him. “This right here? It could be any of us. Frieza can destroy anything he pleases depending on his mood. But he makes us do it for him.”

Vegeta hadn’t realized it, but he echoed Gohan’s earlier musing. They were more alike than Gohan thought, indeed.

“Even if you’re in a peaceful place like your home world, you’re never really safe. But you know that first hand, right?” Vegeta asked with a coy smirk. Gohan stewed over his provocation, but it was the intended reaction.

Vegeta’s lips folded into a frown. “At the end of the day, no matter where you are, this isn’t a just world. It’s the Cold world, and we all just live in it. When one clan can hold another man’s life in their hands and make them do whatever they want, there is no good or evil, or right or wrong. There is only strong or weak. And if you’re weak, you have no place.”

As Gohan pensively hung in the air, Vegeta floated until he was only inches away from him. With his hair, he was almost a flame’s shadow looming over the boy, waiting to burn him into a crisp. A dark smirk painted his face.

“So the question is, are you fit? Or are you still that little wimp I heard on Raditz’s scouter, crying for daddy?”

Vegeta hit the ground so hard, his body left a crater that was just as big as the eight ones the space pod had left. It was so fast, Gohan almost winced at the now aching fist extended in front of his face.

But it wasn’t a lapse of blind rage, like every other time. He knew exactly what he did. That was his answer, with interest.

With his eyes wide, Vegeta just rubbed his jaw as Gohan floated down to meet him. To his disappointment, his scouter had busted from the impact of Gohan’s punch; there was nothing more he’d have liked to see than his power level reading. Outside of thrashings from every top ranking officer up to and including Frieza, Vegeta had never been struck that hard in his life. Every ounce of pride within him was telling him to correct such a grievous slight, but the true Saiyan inside of him couldn’t have been more thrilled. He was even smiling .

Gohan’s feet emphatically hit the floor.

“I am! ” Gohan declared, his voice booming through the sky.

“Very well,” Vegeta said with a hint of a chuckle as rose up from his crater and stood next to the half-Saiyan who had bested him. The boy’s breathing was ragged, withering against the fire burning inside him.

“You don’t have to like it,” Vegeta said, opting for a calmer approach after making his breakthrough. “But the only way you’re going to get stronger while Frieza still exists is staying on his good side. I don’t really care if your Saiyan instincts ever truly overcome your human poisoning, but do what needs to be done. I don’t have to keep saying that anymore, right?”

Gohan nodded.

“And just look at it like this - if anybody was strong enough to stop us from killing them, they’d do it. Fair game, in my book,” Vegeta remarked as he dusted himself off. “That will be our reckoning. Until then, we’ll make sure it isn’t Frieza.”

Unlike Goha, Vegeta knew exactly who he was, and where he stood on the moral end of the spectrum. True, Frieza forced him to conquer planets, but that was the Saiyans’ pastime long before King Cold even came in the picture. He knew that only Hell awaited him in the afterlife, and he didn’t fear it one bit.

“Hell is just another challenge, son.”

Vegeta cracked the closest thing to a smile that his facial muscles allowed. It wasn’t the words of his father, but his mother. She was always the smarter of the two. He looked down at Gohan, who was still distilling his words.

“Just remember who has your back, kid.” 

Vegeta paused. Where the hell did that come from? Not his voice, right? Whatever.

Though Vegeta didn’t completely realize what he’d just said, Gohan did and hummed affirmatively at it. It was just as Kiyomi said - his people were all he had. They were what brought him here, they were what brought his power to the surface, and they were the only ones worthy of defeating Frieza.

As he floated to the sky, Gohan remembered not just what Vegeta had said moments earlier, but what he said in the training room after he’d gotten off Planet Trident. With everything he knew about the Saiyans, he definitely couldn’t say they objected to killing people, but they unquestionably didn’t want this - life under another’s thumb.

Gohan didn’t want this either. Neither did Kobe. But while he gave Kobe a reprieve, as a Saiyan, Gohan was going to take it head on. It was time for him to stop thinking about what he wanted or how he wanted it. When Frieza and his family were taken care of, he could have everything. But until then…

Gohan and Vegeta took off in opposite directions, resolving that splitting up would get the job done faster. Gohan stopped when he reached an island where he sensed an abundance of life.

He stopped in his tracks. He replayed Vegeta’s speech enough times to overpower his own conscience. Everybody down below was weak. Whatever Gohan was about to do, it was on them if they couldn’t survive it.

Gohan looked down at his armor. That brilliant shade of purple and gold - the color Frieza assumed, too. The color of the strongest; the ones who made the decisions while everyone else would simply have to accept it.

His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as his arm slowly lifted. He didn’t have to like it. He shut his eyes, forcing himself not to think of the individual lives going about their business. The ones who had aspirations like Kobe. Gohan could ill-afford to hamper his conscience with them if he wanted to see Frieza’s end.

Kobe was what Gohan wanted to be. He let it go, and safely at that. So now, he accepted what he’d become. This wasn't like Mentos, where he had the fear of Vegeta looming over him. This was his choice alone.

Blue energy formed around his palm. He was going to get them out as quickly as possible. Their punishment for having the audacity to be weak in Frieza’s world would be painless, at least.

He fired.

Chapter Text

“Calzone, right? Pleasure to meet you.”

That orange-skinned man, Calzone, picked a bone from out of his golden teeth and scratched it against the wooden desk at which he sat while gazing contemptuously at the one who stood across from him. He briefly glanced at the ceiling as the armor-clad one across from him took a seat. As if to show his indifference, he yawned theatrically before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

“So this is what Frieza’s come to? He sends a kid to negotiate with me ?” Calzone asked from his nasally voice. “Look at you; did ya balls drop while you were walkin’ inside?”

“They’re hanging a little lower these days, yes.”

“A funny one, I see,” Calzone replied with an insincere chuckle. He looked down at the long-haired boy’s purple chest plate. It bore that insignia of a golden swords’s sheath  he’d become acquainted with. “But neither of us are here for jokes. So just tell me ya sissy little boss’s demands this time so we can both be on our merry way.”

“You might want to make sure Frieza never hears you say that word about him. Trust me,” the boy said, wincing in regards to the “sissy” comment. Calzone scoffed. “But it’s pretty simple. Unless you pay all of the units you’ve shorted on him the last 6 months, Frieza is going to withdraw our protection.”

“Bullshit. That little cocksucker’s been actin’ like he’s gonna play hardball with us for months, now.” Calzone shook his head as he laughed. “What makes him or you think I’m gonna take him seriously this time? I pay him more than enough as it is.”

“You and I both know Frieza’s the chatty type. Word comes out that we’re not backing you up anymore, and the Galactic Patrol touches down on this planet a day later.”

Calzone wildly swung his head back and laughed as if he were told the funniest joke of his life. “The Galactic Patrol? My boys and I have built ourselves up. We can take them.”

“So then why are we both here right now?”

The smile on Calzone’s face vanished in an instant. He curled his lips back, baring those sparkling, gold-plated teeth for the boy to see. He shed his blazer, revealing his veiny, muscular arms that bore a mural of tattoos. But if it was a gesture to intimidate the boy, it didn’t work; his expression remained that blank, piercing stare.

Calzone narrowed his eyes. “Lose the scouter.”

“It’s bugged. Nobody will hear us unless I fix it.”

“Lose it. ”

With a shrug, the boy did as instructed, removing the yellow scouter above his eye and brushing his bangs away from his vision. With a clearer view of his face, Calzone noticed the scar running down the boy’s left eye.

“A scar, huh? How long have ya had it?”

After briefly raising the brow of that scarred eye, the boy answered. “About seven years.”

“I take it ya don’t want more.”

In an instant, the boy dangerously narrowed his eyes, never one to suffer a fool’s threat kindly. Calzone only laughed at the swift change in demeanor.

“Relax. It was merely an observation.” Calzone clasped his colossal, calloused hands together and rested them against the desk as he leaned forward. His eyes bored deeply into the boys. “You’re still a boy. You don’t understand how grown men do business.”

“I first killed a grown man when I was four years old. I know.”

Calzone froze. The boy had said it so flatly, defying his age. Yet even as he spoke on such brutality, his eyes remained vacant. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” he snorted, putting up a front. “You don’t understand that when a man doesn’t like how his end of a deal is going, he withdraws funds unless his demands are met.”

Completely disregarding the imposing man before him, the boy yawned. Calzone snarled at the gesture and slammed his hand against the desk. Pencils, cups, and various pieces of paper flung off the desk from impact. The tightly-fastened wooden structure even wobbled for a few moments afterwards. 

Still no reaction from the boy, however. 

In case he didn’t get the message, Calzone kept his fist pressed against the desk. “I’ll tell ya what—I’ll give you a one-time payment to get the hell out of my face and never show up here again.”

“Sorry, I don’t negotiate with those who are weaker than me.”

Taken aback by the boy’s brash rebuff, Calzone gasped and shook his head. He emphatically stood up, this time slamming both hands on the desk as he rose. “You don’t negotiate with weaklings? Well let’s see you-!”

With one hand, the boy fired a blast at the ceiling. With the other, he blasted the floor. An orange-skinned ogre with blue hair fell from the ceiling and destroyed the desk when he slammed into it; a deathly scream emanated from below the floor. Calzone’s jaw collapsed.

“H-How did you…?!”

“I sensed them around the time you asked me about my scar,” the boy replied with a smirk. “The real reason you made me take off my scouter, right? Too bad.”

With sweat dripping down his forehead, Calzone lifted his arm and gathered energy to his palm, but the boy squeezed it all away with the grip of his gloved hand around his orange wrist. His amused smile twisted the proverbial knife.

“By the way, had Vegeta been sent here instead of me, you would’ve been dead as soon as you demanded he take the scouter off. I guess I just wanted to show off.” The boy lifted his free hand and unleashed a shockwave that slammed Calzone through the wall and into the ground outside. 

After grabbing his scouter from the desk and placing it back over his ear, the boy stepped out from the hole in the building and stalked towards the burly man cowering before him on the ground. Like what was attempted on him seconds ago, he lifted his hand and gathered his Ki .

“Nothing personal.”

In only a blast, Calzone crumbled to dust. The boy hardly even reacted, absent-mindedly clicking his scouter back on as he looked up at the teal-shaded sky. “Zarbon? Calzone kept playing hardball, so I killed him.”

“Good, ” answered Zarbon over the scouter. “Just purge the whole planet. We’ll sell it off.”

“Hn.” The business didn’t particularly matter to him. He was just glad the errand work was almost done with.

“Get it done in three days, Gohan.”

Gohan - the half-Saiyan prodigy that had been forcefully dragged into the Frieza Force, scoffed at the order from his demure supervisor. With the way he worked, three days were more than enough. He examined the metropolis of buildings surrounding the facility he'd smashed Calzone through; it had been surprisingly quiet for daytime. The commotion hadn't even drawn any startled passerby's. A relief, as far as Gohan was concerned. Not because he feared the strength of any of these aliens, but because he didn't need to put a face to anybody.

He flew high into the sky, stopping when he had a good enough vantage point. With the entire perimeter of the city in view, Gohan calculated how big of a blast he would need to wipe it out, all while gathering Ki to his palms. It was a routine that had become paltry, as easy as waking up in the morning. 

His arm extended outward, a blue ball of Ki that was just a droplet from his reserves, but cataclysmic to the people dwelling the buildings and streets hundreds of miles below him. It left his hands and made its bloodthirsty descent, falling until it hit the surface and detonated in an explosion that spanned the entire island, rumbling the waters and the surfaces of even the surrounding land masses that were due to suffer the same fate.

Gohan paid no mind to the smoke filling the air and debris scattering about, emotion devoid from his obsidian eyes. He simply waited for the aftereffects to clear up. The smoke finally ceased after a few minutes, revealing the grisly results of his work. It was perfect - the only trace of any of the beautiful architecture that stood before his blast were small shreds of metal only visible to his acute eyesight. He had put just enough energy to erase the animate and inanimate products urbanization, but spare the land it stood on. The city was no more - it was just a mass of brown soil. Aside from maybe a few organizations, most of the lives that had burned away had nothing to do with Calzone's business. They weren't criminals with bad hearts, just people living their lives.

The half-Saiyan clamped his jaw shut. There was no use in thinking about that. If any of them were strong enough to do something about that blast, they would have. But since he couldn't sense a single trace of Ki from the island anymore, clearly none of them were.

With no enjoyment, and no outward remorse, Gohan moved onto the next island and summoned more Ki, repeating the process.

Gohan yawned when he stepped out of his space pod a week later. The mission had been another in a long line of busywork he and the Saiyans had been tasked with. True to his word, he finished the mission in less than a day. But like all of the ones before it, he was left wondering what the hell was even the point. 

The boy had become a...well, older boy, really. But the half-Saiyan - twelve, possibly thirteen, by his own estimation - had lived a tumultuous enough life under Frieza to damn sure feel like a man. When he stepped inside the base, those that walked about certainly respected him like one. How could they not? He’d long separated himself from the pack. 

He stepped inside a room with a gold sword-like logo above it - identical to the one on the left chest plate of his purple & gold armor. Inside the bright room that featured framed-cots and lockers, the elder Saiyan trio awaited.

“Back already, I see,” Vegeta observed. His armor, too, bore the insignia. He hadn’t aged a bit over the years. Neither did Raditz, though Nappa had grown his mustache into a salt-and-peppered beard. As the Prince had explained to Gohan once, the Saiyan aging process was a snail’s pace that allowed the warrior-race to maintain their primes for as long as possible. Approaching 60, Nappa was finally on the back end but no less fearsome.

Vegeta made a snipping gesture with his fingers, and Gohan nodded. It was to confirm their scouters’ signals were jammed. 

“Anything interesting on your end?” Gohan asked, sitting down on his cot.

“Of course not,” Vegeta answered with a momentary sneer. “We finally knocked off those idiots that were harassing Planet Ziti. That fight was about as difficult as you’d expect.”

“So not difficult,” Gohan replied, reaching for a shelf and grabbing a small, white box.

“You guessed it. The Zitians were grateful.” Vegeta was unable to hide the disgust in his voice. “Though they were disappointed you weren’t there. Said they prefer your politeness.”

Gohan rolled his eyes. His politeness was more apathy, but he supposed an absence of caring kept him from ever building up enough impatience to behave rudely. He opened up the box and pulled a white stick out from it, perching the tip between his lips.

“Mostly because I can fix all of their shitty tech,” Gohan said, keeping the stick tucked.

“That’s why I’m pissed at Frieza and Zarbon for sending you off to do your own thing,” Raditz said. “You always handle all of the business stuff. Without you we’re all standing around with our thumbs up our asses.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if we actually had our regular jobs again,” Nappa said, irritably tugging at his beard. “I don’t know when the hell we went from space pirates to businessmen, but it’s sure as hell getting old.”

“You know how it is,” Vegeta said with bitterness. “Frieza and Zarbon have us by the tail with this job.”

“Like you’d know anything about having a tail,” Gohan quipped.

“Shut the hell up,” Vegeta spat, though he laughed as he did so. The shame of one of his lowest moments in battle had become another distant memory that fueled him. Nappa and Raditz laughed as well, though that didn’t sit as well with him. He whipped his head at the two subordinates. “Hey! I didn’t say you two could laugh, too” Raditz clammed up, though as soon as Vegeta turned around, Nappa snickered.

His frustration swelling, Vegeta slammed his foot against his cot. “We’re going to waste with this nonsense. With every passing day I feel my skills growing rustier like these other asskissers running around.”

“Pulling a Kabnet doesn’t sound so crazy these days,” Nappa said. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

“Hn. But I know what we should really do,” Vegeta said, staring pointedly at Gohan. “Kid, you can knock scouters off the grid, you can disable the tracking in space pods, and you have Kiyomi and the old man to cover your tracks behind the scenes. We could easily find strong planets for ourselves and knock those off.”

“There’s just too many moving parts,” Gohan said, though he’d given it thought himself. “Guys from other planets or in Cooler’s army might notice good planets dying off. At that point, we’d be no different from Kabnet and get blown away.” What he left unspoken was his fear that Earth would be among the first places Frieza would look if the Sayans ever disappeared.

“Whatever,” Vegeta conceded. “I just don’t know how much longer I can keep up with this bullshit.”

“We’ll get our due,” Raditz said. “Giving everyone tough jobs they’re not truly cut out for is gonna blow up in Frieza’s face, and that’s when he’ll need us to clean up after these idiots.”

Gohan nodded in agreement with his uncle, but fixated on the stick in his own mouth. “I’m taking a smoke. Call when you need me.”

Leaving the room, Gohan headed down the hall for one of the backrooms. His ears picked up a loud thud from his right, followed by much barking and insults. When he turned his head to see the commotion, he saw a pair of green and purple lizard-like soldiers he didn’t recognize accosting a pint-sized soldier who sat on the floor and trembled before them. Gohan’s left eye twitched at the scene; he decided to see what was up.

It wasn’t just a small soldier cowering before the two men - it was a child. Salmon-colored skin, black hair, and an innocent face. Gohan could see from the fear in his eyes that he was new. He turned his attention away from the boy and the two men apparent sources of the quarrel.

“Whaddaya want, kid?” asked the green lizard. “This ain’t any of your business.”

“That so?” Gohan asked, the stick in his mouth slurring his speech.

“Unless you want to end up like how this other runt will look in a minute, I’d suggest you move,” the green lizard said, clenching his fist and flicking his sharp tongue at Gohan.

The purple lizard was about to back him up, until he looked closely at the insignia on Gohan’s armor. His eyes trailed further down, stopping at the tail wrapped around his waist. 

“Ah shit, this kid’s one of those AnaBan goons,” he observed. “Let’s just back off.”

The green lizard glanced at his comrade skeptically, but when he looked Gohan in his blank, detached eyes, he complied with a grunt. “Whatever.” They both turned around and went about their business.

With them out of sight, Gohan folded his arms and looked down at the kid who stared at him in awe. “If I were you - and I was you, once - I’d stop looking so scared. Don’t let any of these idiots around here push you around. Got it?”

The boy meekly nodded, studying the older adolescent as he stayed on the floor. His eyes became more confused as Gohan lingered above him.

“Well? Stand up.”

Though he squawked, the child soldier did as commanded and got back to his feet, dusting himself off as well. Gohan’s eye twitched again, but he ignored whatever reaction in his brain triggered it. 

“Good. If you’re not about to go on a mission, then get yourself to a training room.”

Gohan spun around and left before the child could thank him. AnaBan - Frieza’s “clever” title for the special designation he’d given the Saiyans as their exertion-free “promotion.”

There were a lot of rooms in Frieza’s halls that Gohan had gotten to know over the years, and one of them was the library. Granted, the idea of an army of murderous space pirates having any sort of educational wing was patently ridiculous, but he supposed the scientists did need reference material from which to continually expand their minds and improve the gadgets. Gohan had taken to the writings himself, and so he stepped inside the vast hall of shelves filled end-to-end with textbooks the size of Nappa’s head. 

After grabbing one particular purple-covered book, Gohan left and headed outside. As he sat down atop a balcony, he let the chilly breeze brush against his face while he raised his left hand to the stick resting against his lips. With his Ki, he ignited a blue flame from his palm which he used to light the stick - a space cig, as he liked to call it. He inhaled the spicy aroma, allowing it to hit his nostrils and enter his brainwaves, filling him with both smoke and a calm. After he opened the book, he clicked his scouter; he’d configured it to translate space language into English.

Had Kiyomi never informed him of the leaves she frequently smoked, Gohan was sure he would have gone insane long ago. As it turned out, “not caring” was easier said than done. The blue vegetation, Digos , as Kiyomi called it, helped relieve Gohan of his perpetual stress and dulled the protests of his conscience. He liked smoking and reading scientific journals - the combination was the only thing that could redirect his mind from the constant violence.

As he flipped a page, he felt fingernails gently run down the back of his scalp; it sent a shiver down his spine. Not because it was painful, but the opposite—save for the Digos’ smoke, it was the best sensation he’d felt all day. He turned around to see the owner of those magic fingers, though he already had a suspect at the top of his list.

“‘Sup?”

She said it just before she spun around and sat down next to Gohan on the balcony, her back to the sky but her body positioned at an angle so she could face him. Brushing her ponytail, she smiled as Gohan impishly looked away from her.

“What do you want, Arepa?” Gohan tried not to look at her, largely out of embarrassment. Calzone’s crass remarks hadn’t been inaccurate; Gohan was at the age where the opposite sex was finding more real estate in his brain, specifically her. It certainly didn’t help that she was a couple of years older than him and had opted to widdle her uniform down into just an armor and trunks. 

“Once I smelled the smoke ‘round here, I figured that meant Grouchy Gohan was back,” she said with a coy smile. 

Gohan rolled his eyes and directed them to his book. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he could never fight off the warmth that enraptured him whenever Arepa gave him her unsolicited attention. All those years ago, Vegeta had told him to stop caring about others, and so he shunned her. Then, Frieza’s “Dream Team” forced them around each other again.

“My pops said the Saiyan he met back in the day used to smoke too,” Arepa said. “Guess that’s what all the cool ones do, huh?”

Gohan snickered as he flipped to another page. He could detect the sarcasm in her voice, but admittedly part of him did think the act looked cool enough. Of course, as far as substance abuse went, he was by far the tamest. Years of hanging around the premises exposed him to the rampant alcoholism plaguing the Frieza Force. It made sense that a brutal space empire would send people down the path of addiction.

Almost involuntarily, Gohan snuck a glance at Arepa’s legs, but noticed a bandage wrapped around her thigh. “What happened to you?”

“Well, since you guys are takin’ allllll the dirty work, that keeps puttin’ the rest of us in more danger,” Arepa observed, scratching at the uncomfortable tape. “Coulda damn near lost this leg.”

With a sigh, Gohan looked straight ahead. Dirty work. That’s what the “AnaBan” squad was about.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like a tough battle as much as the next space gal, but I wish they’d start givin’ the roughest stuff to you Saiyans,” Arepa grumbled. “Y’all can handle it. I mean, what do you guys even do now?”

“Lot of hits and extortions, pretty much,” Gohan said, frustration rising in his tone. “We ‘protect’ some planets from outside forces, but it’s really just Frieza’s way of robbing them blind. On my planet, we had a name for people like us. The Yakuza; my mom used to worry about me growing up into one.” 

He closed his eyes and laughed a bitter man’s laugh. “So much for that.”

With his eyes closed, he didn’t see Arepa’s pitying frown towards his tone. After puffing blue smoke, he opened them back up to take in the stars, letting his contrition blow away with the wind. “But yeah, that’s pretty much all we do.”

Arepa shrugged. “Don’t make a lick o’ sense to have y’all doin’ the easy stuff if ya ask me.”

“That’s my ‘prize’ for breaking 20,000, I guess,” Gohan said. It was true - not until his and Vegeta’s power levels crossed major thresholds did Frieza suddenly bestow that promotion upon them. Anything to keep them from getting stronger.

Just after Gohan removed his space cig to exhale some more smoke, Arepa snatched it from his hand and took a drag for herself. He gave her the stink eye for it, but upon closer examination of her face, he noticed something sparkling against her lip.

“What’s that?”

Arepa put the cig down and blew smoke while she looked down at the object of Gohan’s curiosity - a ring, pierced into the right corner of her bottom lip. She smiled and ficked it with her fingers. “It’s a lip ring. Ya like it, huh?”

“You have time to do stuff like that?” Gohan scoffed, snatching his cig back. 

Arepa glunched at him for taking her new toy, but shrugged. “Shit happens when ya got a long deadline.” She smirked mischievously. “Somebody got it for me.”

Though he pretended to be indifferent, Gohan still asked. “Who?”

“A certain guy with a name like yours.” She could hardly spit it out while giggling overtook her.

“Gomayn?”

She laughed even louder when Gohan swung around and hopped off the balcony. “C’mon, Gohan, where ya goin’?”

“I’m paying him a visit.” Gohan marched back inside while Arepa giggled behind him. 

Gomayn . What a stupid goddamn name. A kid around Gohan’s age who was recruited from another planet and acted like he was hot shit despite being weak. After enough puns were made regarding their names, Gohan had the guy on his permanent shitlist. Sensing his Ki from the mess hall, Gohan set his sights there. 

Arepa chose to stay in the doorway while Gohan stepped inside. Like a wolf closing in on its prey, Gohan circled around the table until he was facing him. Just the sight of his face made Gohan scowl - yellow skin and purple hair that stood up in spikes. A perpetually expression.

Gomayn scornfully glared at Gohan. “Is there a problem , monkey?”

The half-Saiyan didn’t answer, instead folding his arms and scowling at the soldier. Part of him felt stupid for his behavior; hell, by the time he reached the room he’d already recognized his pettiness. So he was going to wait for Gomayn‘s obnoxiousness to initiate a conflict.

“What are you here to do, huh?” Gomayn said, an insufferable smirk on his face. “Fling shit at me?”

There it goes , Gohan thought as he whipped his tail from his waist and smacked it into Gomayn’s tray; it flung into the wall, alerting the other warriors inside. Gomayn shot up from his seat and snarled at the surly Saiyan. 

“You halfwits really can’t help yourselves, huh?” Gomayn asked. Unlike many of the others in the Frieza Force, Gomayn didn’t cower before the Saiyans - at his own peril.

“Do you really want to try me?” Gohan’s voice was treacherously low.

Gomayn’s smirk widened. “Try you? No, I want to embarass you.” When Gohan squeezed his fists, Gomayn’s eyes glowed with realization. “Ah wait, I see now. You like Arepa’s lip ring, right?”

Gohan didn’t answer, though his deepened scowl said what his voice couldn’t. Gomayn cackled at Gohan’s anger and pointed his thumb at his chest. “Unlike you, I’m a man of class and fists. The fairer sex naturally gravitates towards me.”

Of course, he couldn’t see Arepa standing a few feet behind him, rolling her eyes and lampooning him with chirping motions from her hands.

After taking a deep breath, Gohan brushed his flustered impulse off. “Just remember who’s stronger around here.” As he walked away, he and Gomayn kept their eyes on each other. Arepa inched away from the doorway to remove herself from view when Gomayn whipped his head around; when Gohan returned and Gomayn sat back down, she laughed.

“You’re such a dork, Gohan,” she teased, poking his chest plate as she leaned back against the wall. She laughed even more at the crimson overtaking Gohan’s cheeks while he darted his eyes away from her. “You think you need to prove something to me?”

She leaned away from the wall until her face was only inches from Gohan’s, smirking. “I know you’re stronger than that twit.”

The blue ice in her eyes and her smile bewitched Gohan. Those were the exact words he wanted to hear, and it felt specifically great coming from her voice. Unconsciously, he returned her smile.

“Arepa!”

Gohan and Arepa backed away from each other like they were caught in treasonous activity. It was Cui, scowling with his arms folded. “Stop dawdling around. We've gotta train for our next mission.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Arepa said before walking in his direction, flashing a peace sign at Gohan.

“Gohan,” Cui said, tightening his prominent eyes.

“Cui.”

The terse greeting out of the way, Cui followed Arepa out of the hall. As it had turned out, the “Dream Team'' had actually been more than Frieza’s way of annoying the Saiyans. He’d long grown tired of Cui’s cowardice-first leadership and needed to weed out the weaker elements of his crew. After Beari’s death at the hands of Kabnet’s remnants and a few more incidents, Frieza’s point was made. The crews split back up, and Arepa quickly passed Stroh as Cui’s right-hand. She still wasn’t anywhere close to Gohan, but by non-Saiyan standards she was impressive.

“Gohan, Frieza would like an audience with you in his throne room.”

Zarbon’s message alerted all of Gohan’s senses. He’d had enough meetings with Frieza go wrong over the years to always stay weary of them. His biggest fear was Frieza learning of his scouter trickery - how he built a chip that could mask the frequencies of his own scouter and any other within range. In the four years since its creation, nobody seemed to suspect anything; but he could never be too sure.

It was easier to just get on with the misery, however, and so Gohan made his way to the metallic doors that opened automatically. In that vast hallway, illuminated by pink light, Frieza hovered in his chair alone. Of course he’d tell Zarbon to summon him when he wasn’t even in the room; anything Frieza could pawn off on others, he would. 

As Gohan entered, Frieza studied every step he took until he got down on one knee. “Greetings, Lord Frieza,” he said, his tone masterfully measured. 

“I see you’ve finally disposed of Calzone and his miserable lot,” Frieza began. “I never cared for that fool. Always so crass and ill-mannered...much like your own ilk, now that I think about it.”

Gohan swallowed. Business as usual.

Frieza could see Gohan’s discomfort just from the way his eyes twitched, and laughed. “But in all seriousness young lad, good work. I knew pivoting the Saiyans’ duties would go a long way in relieving me of the day-to-day monotony of running an empire, and I’m glad to see I was correct.”

Bullshit, Gohan thought, though he wisely kept that to himself.

“How long have you been under my wing now, Gohan? Seven, eight years? Never have I seen someone rise so quickly at such a young age. Not only have you become among the most powerful of warriors below the elite ranks, but you display a level of intellectual curiosity that defies your simian heritage.”

Every backhanded compliment from his lordship served to remind Gohan of his purpose. Frieza and just about every member of his army save for Arepa, Lemo and Kiyomi felt an unjust superiority towards his people; even when the lower ranks cowered in their presence, Frieza emboldened them to chirp behind their backs. He salivated the day it would blow up in his face.

Frieza took a customary swig of his wine. “Should you ever go back to frontline combat, you’d be on track to becoming perhaps the greatest warrior in the history of my ranks.”

But I won’t, Gohan thought, his jaw flexing. Frieza tortured his ears by chuckling at his soured demeanor.

“Such dismay, my young lad!” He cackled. “Believe me, I understand what it’s like to constantly chomp at the bit for some action. In fact, that’s why I’ve brought you before me.”

Gohan’s brows raised at the cryptic nature of Frieza’s tone. He lifted his head to face the lizard, trying to decode the enigma that was his countenance.

“Son Gohan, what if you split off from the Saiyans and became captain of your own crew?”

Gohan opened his mouth to speak, but only flummoxed air escaped. He tried to stutter a few words, but Frieza chuckled and cut him off.

“Think about it. You Saiyans aren’t completely absent in common sense; you know why I do the things I do. Though it pains every fiber of my being, I know that my benevolent nature has not been reciprocated by you four.” As if to illustrate his “anguish”, Frieza moaned and raised his hand to his head. “To especially receive such harsh rebuke from Vegeta, whom I see as a son.”

Just as Gohan fought off his urge to roll his eyes, Frieza’s demeanor took a radical shift into darkness as his eyes narrowed.

“But do you know why your prince loathes me so, Gohan? Because at the end of the day, he’s still the same spoiled brat from when I first took him in.” There was no fondness or nostalgia in Frieza’s voice, only a razor-sharp resentment, like the day he addressed Boysen’s betrayal. “Being born into Saiyan royalty poisoned his mind with the vials of entitlement, leaving him loathe to accept any form of authority.”

Gohan didn’t comment, dismissing Frieza’s grumblings for the feeble brainwashing effort they were.

“I have no doubt Vegeta’s filled your head with nonsense about Saiyan pride to keep you on his side. But need I remind you that it is because of the Saiyans that you’re here? ”

Again, Gohan remained silent. But this time, Frieza had his full attention. With gaping eyes, he stared straight ahead as he tried reconciling thoughts he wasn’t comfortable having around his oppressor.

“You’re different from the other Saiyans. I could tell from the first day you were brought here,” Frieza observed as he floated just a few inches closer to Gohan, his inescapable shadow broadening. Gohan winced at the memory; how he whimpered, and more importantly, how Frieza took it upon himself to humiliate him with only his tail. That was the reminder he needed to keep himself on track.

“These full-blooded Saiyans live for wanton destruction; this would be their life even if my father never crossed paths with their race. They love what they do. But you’re not that way, are you Gohan?” A probing smile spread across Frieza’s lips as a vein in Gohan’s forehead throbbed. “I see a hollowness in your young eyes. As if you’ve dulled the sharpest corners of your mind in order to carry out your atrocities and still sleep at night. Small wonder you finish your assignments so quickly.”

Hearing such a painfully accurate assessment of his mental state forced Gohan to glare at the floor and clench his teeth. Fractures formed in the foundations of his resolve.

“Such a bright young mind gone to waste,” Frieza lamented with a smug smile. “Heaven knows what you’d be doing if you were allowed the life you once had in your former home. Instead, Vegeta plucked you away so you can be the perfect puppet to help relieve him of his decades-long temper tantrum.”

Gohan could only shake his head in hopes that the gesture would fling away the darts flying towards him that all said, “He has a point.”

His frazzled gestures gave Frieza plenty to laugh about. “I admit, my two assistants and I have not made things easy for you, though much of that was your own fault. The only reason you carry on is because you cling to the hope of ridding yourself of my presence.” 

Gohan whipped his head up. It wasn’t just the fact that it sure sounded like he knew of his two brushes with escape or why he turned them down; that was improbable. It was seeing him so plainly state his goal. Was Frieza about to kill him where he stood...or worse…?

Gohan looked at his left hand. It was bluer than usual.

After a blink, its normal shade returned.

“Shocked? You’re far from alone, boy. I could count on one hand how many people across my and my brother’s empires work here with a smile on their face. People like Kabnet were just the rare fools to act on their resentment.” For once, Frieza spoke without any of his theatrical pleasantries; straight-shooting, like Cooler, or Vegeta, did.

“Consider this, my young lad,” Friza said, raising his finger. “If you pledged your unyielding loyalty to me and distanced yourself from the Saiyans and their more overt ambitions towards my demise, you’d finally be allowed to grow. To see the true fruits of your tremendous potential. No longer would your mind be anchored by the anguish of futility. Nobody would push you around, least of all Zarbon and Dodoria.”

As flashes of those two sycophants’ transgressions over the years pounded Gohan’s thoughts, he stiffened. His fear of weakness informed every step he took. It was why he threw away his morals, why he allowed himself to take innocent lives.

And Frieza was right. The Saiyans introduced him to that feeling.

Frieza raised his other four fingers in a grand gesture, and then squeezed them shut into a powerful fist. “You would eventually be reawakened as a warrior second only to my clan in power, reaching the very edges of mortal capability and beyond! You don’t have to like me; I don’t even have to like you. But you will be respected. You’re not all monkey, after all!”

You don’t have to like me . More or less the same phrase Vegeta had given before Gohan willingly killed innocents. It was a mantra Gohan held close.

“I understand the weight of this decision. So let’s say I give you 24 hours to think it over?”

Gohan stood there for a few more minutes, shuddering. The only words Frieza had ever spared him over the years were orders, condescension, and admonishment. He’d never been given true advice from the tyrant; never exposed to such salient, disarming wisdom. He recalled Vegeta mentioning how the lizard had served as his twisted mentor during his childhood. 

He stared into the purple and gold that colored Frieza’s armor. They were a more saturated shade than the more muted rendition Gohan bore on his own clothes. The colors of power that Gohan desperately sought; power now being invited towards him openly.

After swallowing heavily in his dry throat, Gohan turned on his heel and walked away, stepping like the heavy padding from Cooler’s boot camp had been applied to his feet.

“And just remember, boy,” Frieza called just as Gohan reached the door. The boy froze and turned around to face him.

Frieza’s face broadened into a smile that dropped Gohan’s body temperature to an absolute zero.

“No pressure.”

Gohan whipped himself back around and stormed out, desperate to escape the range of that frigid gaze as quickly as possible. Once back in the hallway, Gohan stood still, his fists gripped tightly at his sides. 

His mind traveled back to that day seven years prior, when he sent that boy, Kobe, off to live the life he once yearned for himself. And how after that, Vegeta finally managed to talk him into completely crossing over into the dark side. 

Why was he even thinking about Frieza’s offer? He was the enemy. The man had even plainly stated it himself! Then again, he was an enemy that the Saiyans had thrust him towards.

But this was all bigger than him, right? It was just as Vegeta said - no matter where he was, it was the Cold world and he just lived in it. As long as he had Saiyan blood and was the son of one of the few remaining full-bloods alive, his destiny was always going to lead him to Frieza. The bastard’s system was the reason he was even born .

Even so, his progress had long stalled. Was the path to escaping the Cold world really with a group Frieza didn’t trust?

Gohan looked down at his arm. On the purple fabric, a drop of ice blue formed. No, not this again! Gohan said to himself, but his brain’s voice couldn’t stop his brain’s vision from spreading the ice through his entire arm until it looked just like Boysen’s seven years earlier. And then, the cracks.

“Gohan!”

His head whipped up. It was Raditz, standing across from him. Green scouter, long, spiky hair like his own, and a…

...Frightening smirk as he dangled Gohan by the back of his yellow collar and hauled him closer towards him. Gohan dad was supposed to be invincible, the strongest man ever, but this guy just kicked him and left him crying in agony.

What did he want with him?!

Gohan couldn’t stop himself from crying his tiny, four-year-old vocal cords out. He could hear Raditz say something about one hundred bodies and reluctance for killing his own nephew, but none of it was clear over his wails. All he knew was, his invincible father was writing in the grass, the scary Saiyan had him in his grip, and there was nothing his dad’s nice friends could do about it.

“For your son’s sake, you shouldn’t try to fight back,” Raditz warned.

And then he rose into the air. The funny old man, the short guy, the blue-haired woman, and his father all drifted further and further away. Gohan tried to reach out, tried to escape from the iron-tight grip, but was powerless to do so.

“Your power is nothing compared to a real Saiyan’s. And you’re definitely no match for your older brother!”

“DADDY!” Gohan cried out

“I’ll be looking forward to tomorrow, Kakarot! See you then!”

Raditz turned around and took off - the last thing Gohan saw of his father was him helplessly reaching out, screaming his name.

Minutes later, after being carelessly tossed into the space pod and locked inside, Gohan banged against the glass in a feeble attempt to break it. It wouldn’t budge no matter how hard his hands slammed into it. There was no escape.

And then, the man came back - Raditz. But this time, he wasn’t smug and boastful; his face was pale and his eyes were bugged, like he’d just seen a ghost. He stared at Gohan as if he were some kind of gremlin. After he opened the pod, he hauled Gohan up by the collar of his tunic - and the last thing Gohan felt was a chop to the back of his neck before everything went black.

Gohan blinked. He wasn’t on Roshi’s island, or those grasslands, anymore. He was in Frieza’s home base, as he’d usually been since that day. And that same face was looking at him, snickering like he did before he hauled him away from his injured father.

“The hell’s got you all wound up? Figured out how to train in your head or something?”

The sound of his voice tightly furrowed Gohan’s brows. His fingers curled into fists that threatened to tear the fabric of his gloves. His black eyes - hollow, as Frieza described - burned with a corrosive intensity that perplexed his uncle.

“Get the fuck out of my face.”

Gohan turned around and marched off, leaving Raditz to wonder what the hell had gotten into him.

Chapter Text

“Gohan, report to the training quarters in the west wing at once.”

He had barely thought about Frieza’s offer for ten minutes before Zarbon tapped his scouter to bark orders at him. Given his tone and the location, Gohan didn’t suspect it was for anything good. When he reached the room and stepped inside, Zarbon stood arms folded. And he wasn’t alone - Gomayn, the yellow thorn in Gohan’s side, was standing right next to him with that insufferable smile.

“What’s this about?” Gohan asked, shooting a glare at Gomayn.

“Did you accost Gomayn in the mess hall?” Zarbon asked.

“Yes…?” Gohan asked with a scoff. “So what?”

Zarbon snickered at Gohan’s casual dismissal. “And you tossed his food too, right? Well, Gohan, soldiers below elite level aren’t allowed to squabble with ones from other crews.”

While Gomayn’s grin widened, Gohan’s eyes did the same with bewilderment. It was possibly the dumbest statement he’d ever heard in his life. “Are you serious , Zarbon? There’s nothing but ‘squabbles’ around here.”

“We can’t keep track of everything,” Zarbon replied without an ounce of sincerity in his voice while shrugging. “We take these incidents as they come to us.”

“Yeah, Gohan - rules are rules,” Gomayn taunted. 

Gohan scowled at Zarbon. “I can’t tell what would be worse - if you’re just making this up.” He directed his venom to Gomayn. “Or if it’s actually true, and you’re the only one pathetic enough to report it.”

“It matters not , brat!” Zarbon shouted before he phased in front of Gohan and punched him square in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Gohan crumbled onto his knees, clutching at his chest as he coughed and gasped for air. Giving the boy no chance to collect himself, Zarbon slammed the back of his leg into his head to knock him into the wall.

Zarbon strode to the far corner of the room, where he retrieved a whip. “Since you were victimized by the Saiyan, I’ll give you the honor of the first strike.”

Gohan restlessly whipped his head up while he reeled on the floor, dread in his eyes as he saw the ravenous grin on Gomayn’s face when he retrieved the whip. He couldn’t think of a scenario more shameful than this .

The spiky-haired teenager cackled as he repeatedly smacked the whip against his hands, turning to face the addled half-Saiyan. “Hoho, wait ‘till Arepa hears about this…”

Like an imperiled wolf, Gohan bore his teeth at Gomayn; it did nothing to stop his arrogant gait. Gomayn reached his arm out wide to ensure he got a good torque, and then slammed it down with all his might. He didn’t land the satisfying strike, however; with razor-sharp reflexes, Gohan snatched the whip before it could connect. The stare in his eyes perfectly spelled out to Gomayn the gruesome things he wished to do to him. It was enough to make the yellow-shaded soldier buckle like the coward he truly was.

Unfortunately for Gohan, Zarbon blasted his injured chest and brought him back down to the floor. Indignant from being shown up so effortlessly, Gomayn viciously cracked the whip against Gohan’s back not once, but four times in rapid succession until Zarbon had to yank him away.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Zarbon said, chucking the teenager to the floor. “I believe I said you were allowed one strike.”

The humiliation resonated within Gohan far more than the pain against his back. Even as he agonized on the floor, his face sizzled with a fearsome rage. When Zarbon snatched the whip from Gomayn’s hands, Gohan looked him directly in his eyes to let him know that he wouldn’t back down. 

Not that Zarbon was deterred. He rained down on Gohan’s back with a force Gomayn couldn’t hope to wield, forcing Gohan to bite down on his bottom lip while a boiling hot stinging sensation surged through his body. It forced his head to the floor; he shut his eyes in an effort both to block the pain and speed up the punishment.

Zarbon gleefully smacked the whip against Gohan’s back until he felt his point was adequately made. The powerful half-Saiyan had been reduced to a convulsing mess, slamming his fist against the floor out of rage. 

“If you want to walk around lording over everyone in your sight, maybe try becoming a captain,” Zarbon snickered. 

Gohan’s eyes shot open. There it was - the method behind the madness.

“Gomayn, drag this boy to a healing tank. I’ll be monitoring your scouter, so I’ll know if you do anything unscrupulous.” Zarbon exited the room.

Choosing to interpret that warning his own way, Gomayn waited until Zarbon’s footsteps were out of his earshot and walked over to Gohan. He cocked his leg back to get an extra kick in on his ribs, but the only thing his boot came into contact with was the vice grip of a gloved hand.

With a feral growl, Gohan squeezed Gomayn’s foot until he yelped, before tossing him into the wall. He would go to a healing tank on his own volition, regardless of how excruciating it was to even walk. His effort overriding his condition, Gohan stood back up and limped into the hallway.

Gomayn didn’t threaten him one bit - of course Arepa had no interest in that idiot. Not that he cared, of course. But under no circumstances would he let that rodent drag him to a healing tank as if he’d bested him in combat and offered him mercy.

When Gohan finally made it inside one of the medical rooms, a diminutive attendant grimaced at him and rushed to open the healing tank. Before stepping inside, Gohan bent down and rested his hand against the tank’s outer shell, panting heavily. All of the endless poking and prodding from Frieza’s men had long pushed him past its limits; and now Frieza was trying to illustrate that point.

After removing his scouter, he stepped inside and placed the mask against his face himself, closing his eyes to shut the world out while liquid poured around him.

Twenty minutes later, the liquid solution flushed itself into a drain and the door opened back up. When Gohan opened his eyes, he saw the attendant wasn’t alone.

“Kiyomi?” Gohan asked as he stepped out of the tank.

The effortlessly elegant Kiyomi ignored the leering attendant and shrugged. “I was passing by and saw you in there. With your work lately, I know there’s only one reason you’d be in there.”

“Zarbon.”

“Yup.”

Gohan spun around and angrily whipped his tail before he leaned back against the wall. “I’m so sick of that guy! One day, he won’t be smiling when he looks at me.” As Kiyomi snickered, Gohan fixated on a crucial question: when that day would come. That brought him back to Frieza’s offer and its cost.

Staring at the floor to shield his pensive emotions, Gohan pressed Kiyomi with a relevant issue. “What did Zarbon do to sell your people out, anyway?”

Kiyomi sighed and leaned back against a desk, smiling bitterly. “Zarbon was always kind of a dick, but he was a fine warrior. A prodigy, really, since we were kids. He was part of a task force that used to fight battles all around the galaxy. They did a lot of good, actually.”

A bewildered Gohan laughed as he tried to picture the description. It was tough picturing Zarbon do anything in the zip code of “good.”

“But I could tell Zarbon was more of a glory kind of guy. He just liked looking cool and used it as a way to score chicks. It worked on me for a little bit, sadly.” She and Gohan both laughed. “But one day, they ran into a planet that was being attacked by Frieza and his men. Back then, King Cold was still running the show and Frieza was daddy’s little elite.”

Kiyomi clenched her fists. “Frieza liked their moxie and offered to spare the crew if they joined forces. Everyone refused...except for Zarbon.” Gohan winced as she clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the desk. “He turned coat, helped Frieza’s crew take our guys out, and next thing I know a bunch of armored assholes are showing up on our planet to let us know a new boss was in town.”

Gohan raised his thumb and pensively chewed at his glove. A tale too familiar for his liking.

“Every time I see that sellout I want to spit on him,” Kiyomi growled. “Betraying his crew was bad enough but he had to go and tell him about us just so Frieza would like him more. Sometimes I wonder if I’m any better for going along instead of dying with dignity…”

“Because you still hope it’ll be over one day?” Gohan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sounds about right.” Kiyomi lifted herself off the desk and headed for the doorway. “Keep training, and maybe it will be soon.”

As she left, Gohan closed his eyes. Training - that was all he really had anymore. And with how frequently they worked, he didn’t have time to get much in. 

On the other hand, he still had 24 hours to make a decision anchored by his slow progress. If he made better use, then maybe he wouldn’t need to become another Zarbon.  The sheer comparison paled his face to a shade resembling the snide officer’s.

He honed in on Vegeta’s Ki, which was simmering outside. As he left the building and flew to the spot, he mulled over Kiyomi’s story. The common denominator with both he and Zarbon was a desire for power. But Zarbon seemed content to be a bootlicker. That was not Gohan’s path.

Down below, Vegeta stood in front of a mountain, his body glowing. When Gohan floated down to meet him, he turned around.

“Why the hell can’t my scouter ever pick you up, boy?” Vegeta asked. 

Gohan had never told anyone about his Ki control. He never understood why he didn’t divulge such a thing; perhaps he just wanted some advantage over everyone. With as unpredictable as Vegeta was, Gohan never knew if there would come a time where he and the prince could be at odds.

Maybe that time was coming.

“I wanted to spar,” Gohan said.

Vegeta turned around, intrigued by Gohan’s proposal. The Prince of all Saiyans had always bested Gohan in sparring matches, often violently demonstrating his superiority over him. The battles were but another reminder of the hurdles Gohan had yet to clear. Not only that, but they’d strengthened the respect between the two.

“Hn. Well let’s make sure we don’t destroy any of these mountains before Frieza starts bitching.” Vegeta said with a competitive smirk. He took his scouter off and set it down.

Gohan wasn’t sure how to approach the subject of Frieza’s offer with Vegeta; he already knew what his answer would be. But in a spar, he could at least hold it off. Gohan assumed a fighting stance that mimicked his father’s. Vegeta crouched into his signature stance, raising one hand in front of his head and keeping the other one curled back.

“Let’s see where your training’s gotten you, kid.”

Gohan lunged ahead to attack, but Vegeta leaped to the side and drove that fist he’d kept cocked back into Gohan’s stomach. It wasn’t to Gohan’s surprise, however, and he batted it away as he leapt back; although all that accomplished was giving Vegeta an opening to swing his leg to his skull for a kick. Though that, too, was blocked. 

Vegeta leaped back with an approving smirk. “If you could attack as well as you could defend, maybe you’d get somewhere.” He crouched down to gather himself as his smirk widened. “Now here’s how it’s done!”

Of course, Gohan had no problem avoiding the kick that came his way, using his smaller size to slip under Vegeta’s legs while he was in the air and pop up behind him. It was then that he landed the first blow, firing a Ki blast that struck Vegeta’s back and sent him to the floor.

After shaking himself off, Vegeta stood back up with that grin still on his face. “Always so trigger happy with the energy! No wonder your strikes aren’t sharp.”

Gohan winced as he dashed forward and swung his fists, trying to prove Vegeta wrong. The Saiyan Prince batted him away and answered in kind with a strike of his own. When Gohan blocked that , the two Saiyans unleashed a flurry of attacks against each other that all collided in stalemates.

Vegeta’s assessment of Gohan hadn’t been wrong. He was trigger happy with energy. For a reason - it was as Frieza said. He ended missions quickly. How else could he keep himself from putting a face to the people he killed? Blowing them all away kept them from embedding into his mind. A quick death was a faint mercy in Gohan’ eyes.

After trying to deliver a debilitating kick, Gohan found himself crashing face-first into the gravel courtesy of Vegeta’s elbow. Without giving him a chance to collect himself, Vegeta kicked Gohan in the stomach to launch him into the air.

Vegeta released a storm of blasts that forced Gohan to abruptly halt his ascent and swat them away. With his attention so preoccupied, he allowed Vegeta to soar up and drive his elbow into his jaw. As he reeled from the blow, he was hit on the top of his head by both of Vegeta’s fists. Releasing his energy to hold himself in place, Gohan scowled as Vegeta laughed from above him.

“For all of the strength you have, you’re still soft,” Vegeta taunted. “You better sharpen yourself up.”

Not one to be mocked, Gohan sped past Vegeta with a burst of Ki and struck him in the back of his neck. As Vegeta fell, Gohan shot down and kicked him in the ribs for good measure to send him to the ground. After he landed, Vegeta stumbled back up with a laugh.

“Much better,” Vegeta said, dusting off his armor. “But you’ll need more than that!”

Vegeta vanished out of sight and popped back up right in Gohan’s face - but Gohan was ready. He blocked the knee that came his way with his elbow, genuinely catching Vegeta off guard. Taking advantage, Gohan punched Vegeta in the solar plexus, just as Zarbon had done to him earlier, and sent him spiraling into one of the many mountains with a Ki blast. Heeding Vegeta’s advisory, Gohan flew behind him before he could crash into the mountain and get them in hot water with Frieza - and then he knocked him down with both fists.

And he didn’t let up - because he wasn’t soft. He kicked Vegeta while he was still down and blasted him again while he skidded away. It didn’t matter if he was too Ki dependent; as far as he was concerned, it made him more efficient. He didn’t have to like this - he just had to get things done.

With the tables turned, now it was Vegeta who was left flustered. He blasted off into the highest breathable altitudes; Gohan flew up to meet him moments later. That played right into Vegeta’s hands, because with the clouds in his way he’d be blind to his incoming attack. Vegeta fired a blast down at Gohan, but was stunned to find it swatted down. Gohan fired a blast of his own to disperse Vegeta’s Ki before it could hit anything important down below.

After Gohan joined Vegeta above the clouds, he froze. Vegeta didn’t seem prepared for battle, instead stroking his chin in thought.

“ Now I finally get it,” Vegeta said. “You can detect someone’s power without your scouter, huh?”

“Cat’s out the bag, I guess.”

“How long have you known how to do this?”

“Since Planet Zuna, really,” Gohan replied. “How else could I have survived without a scouter?”

“Unbelievable,” Vegeta whispered. “How the hell could I have never figured that out?”

Gohan had expected Vegetea to chide him for keeping it a secret, but instead he’d gotten his astoundment. Over the years, it had perplexed him that somebody as perceptive as Vegeta could never figure it out from the way he went about fights.

“A useful technique to keep to yourself,” Vegeta said. “I guess I was wrong to assume you weren’t sharp enough; always find a way to keep a leg up.”

Gohan chuckled - of course. Of course somebody as strategic as Vegeta wouldn’t really be angry about him hiding something useful even from him.

“But how? It doesn’t make much sense,” Vegeta asked.

“I’m in tune with my Ki. Or energy, like you guys call it,” Gohan explained. “When you can get a good grasp of your Ki, not only can you feel other people’s - you can control it.”

With genuine intrigue in his eyes, Vegeta folded his arms. “Controlling your ‘Ki,’ huh? There’s a lot one could do with that.” After lowering his arms and tightening his fists, Vegeta laughed. “The student becomes the teacher, I see.”

Vegeta had his way of fighting, and Gohan had his. In a world of brute force, Gohan got by with finesse; his psyche was probably better for it. But he knew he would have to dig deeper if he ever planned on competing with Frieza.

“But if a commoner’s son can do it, so can I,” Vegeta resolved. He squared his shoulders. “Since we’re up in the sky, we can go all out.” Gohan did the same.

The two Saiyans flew at each other and met elbow to elbow with a clash that reverberated through the atmosphere. The first strike went to Gohan, as he sent Vegeta backwards with a punch. He burst forward to follow up, but Vegeta leaped out of the way and kicked him in his side with both feet. The hit didn’t rattle Gohan, however, and he came right back with an explosive punch to the face. Another punch was blocked, and soon the two Saiyans were locked in another standoff of strikes.

It was Gohan who broke the chain of attacks, hitting Vegeta in the jaw hard enough to draw blood and kicking him in the same spot. After flying back dozens of feet, Vegeta released a burst of energy to stop himself from falling and frantically wiped the blood off of his chin. Gohan stiffened, expecting the proud Prince to flip out at the sight of a wound.

Instead, Vegeta snickered. “Good work. But you’re still holding back.” Vegeta slowly floated towards Gohan, harboring an intensity in his eyes that contradicted his laughs and praise. “You still hide your power behind your emotions.”

Vegeta froze and pointed at his chin. “Come at me with everything you’ve got, half-breed!”

With a growl, Gohan did just as commanded. Unfortunately, Vegeta didn’t even flinch, instead thwarting him with just his energy. When Gohan buckled, Vegeta delivered a knee to his gut that practically rearranged his stomach. To make matters worse, he sent the boy on a hellish crash landing with a vicious strike to his back. Gohan flew through layers of clouds like a comet until he felt Vegeta’s gloves yank around his hair. After a few feeble attempts to escape the iron-tight grip, he was thrust forward only a few inches from his Prince’s evil smile.

“Where is it, Gohan?! This upsets you, doesn’t it?!”

With a callousness that would make Zarbon look like a nanny, Vegeta repeatedly punched Gohan’s face until he could feel his own knuckles cracking against it. The sheer force of his blows made Gohan’s ears ring sirens in his head while his eyes watered. Soon, Vegeta gave his face a break - and repeatedly slammed his knee into his gut instead.

“I can do this all day unless you do something about it!” Vegeta cackled as he kneeled away. “Do I have to start calling you ‘brat’ again?!”

With a fierce growl, Gohan grabbed Vegeta’s knee with both hands before it could cave his stomach again and slammed his head into his with enough strength to draw his own blood. Vegeta’s head flopped back like a bullet hit it, but he kept his grip on Gohan’s hair. With a grin, he ignored the blood trickling down into his eye and lowered his head.

“Nice try,” Vegeta drawled. “But it’s still not enough.”

Mercifully, Vegeta let Gohan but go. But a second later, he hit him with a fearsome blast. The half-Saiyan torpedoed all the way back down, but just barely thwarted a crash-landing by swinging his body down and planting his feet hard enough to shake the ground beneath it. With his teeth clenched and his fists squeezed tight, Gohan looked up to the sky with resentment burning in his eyes. As easier as the Saiyans were to be around, they were perhaps the ultimate symbol of his weakness - they punished him and his father for not being strong enough.

Vegeta floated down from the skies with his arms folded. “Now that’s how I know you’re holding back. A few years ago, that would’ve taken you out.”

Gohan hung his head while Vegeta landed on the ground. Vegeta hissed through his teeth and dusted himself off.

“Of course, a few years ago I would have gone at you worse than that,” Vegeta grumbled, to Gohan’s puzzlement. “I keep harping on you, but I, too, have been losing my edge. Frieza and his bullshit have dulled it considerably.”

Upon hearing that, Gohan closed his eyes and sighed. Now was as good of a time as any to bring it up. “That’s actually why I came here.”

“Hn?”

Gohan didn’t lift his head, finding it easier to say if he didn’t have to actually look at Vegeta. “About an hour ago, Frieza made me an offer.”

“About what?” Vegeta asked with suspicion.

“To split from you guys and form my own crew.” Gohan muttered. “I’d finally get frequent work on my level again.”

Gohan didn’t hear the reaction from Vegeta he was expecting. In fact, Vegeta simply laughed. “As if that rat’s word meant anything.”

He wasn’t wrong. Over the years, Frieza had given Gohan little reason to trust him. But it was Frieza’s uncharacteristic directness that had Gohan thinking differently. He finally looked up to face Vegeta. The Prince’s expression was guarded, skeptical.

“I know, but…” Gohan froze and directed his pupils to the right corners of his eyes in search of the right words. “What’s left of us here? Frieza’s going to keep spinning our wheels as long as he can.”

The quiet calm in Vegeta’s expression burned away. His eyes alone belittled Gohan. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this, boy.”

“I'm torn, but-”

“But what? ” Vegeta sharply interrupted, marching a step closer to Gohan. “He’s offering better work only if you leave us. Anyone with a brain can see that he’s trying to divide us.”

“ Of course I know that,” Gohan said with a scowl. “But we’re not gonna get anywhere playing the game as we are now.”

“I just offered alternatives earlier and you shot them down.”

“And they were dumb alternatives.” When Vegeta’s eyes flexed in warning, Gohan buckled back. He knew better, but he had to make his point firmly. “Look - all I’d be doing is finding another path to defeating him.”

With a sardonic laugh, Vegeta closed his eyes and shook his head, regarding Gohan like a psych patient. “So let’s say that Frieza is good on his word and gives you strong planets to conquer. He’s just going to kill you even if you make it through without me to hold your hand.”

“Excuse me?” Gohan asked with an indignant glare.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Vegeta defiantly narrowed his eyes.

Weary of the disagreement taking an explosive turn, Gohan, too, shook his head. “Vegeta, it wouldn’t be any different from what you’ve been doing for years already.”

“And you see where that’s gotten me.” Gohan conceded his point by lowering his eyes. “But sure, let’s say he doesn’t just kill you before you’re too much of a problem? Why else do you think Frieza would just let you get as strong as you can without me?”

Gohan didn’t answer.

“Because he’d turn you into a docile lapdog, like the rest of the bootlickers he keeps around,” Vegeta said, swinging his arm back to point towards the miles-away base housing dozens upon dozens of aimless soldiers. “Do you want to be another Zarbon or Dodoria? He’ll keep going until you’re nothing more than his strongest puppet .”

“Instead, Vegeta plucked you away to be the perfect puppet to help relieve him of his decades-long temper tantrum.”

Gohan briefly closed his eyes; not to blink, but to fully process his thoughts after being triggered to Frieza’s scathing assessment of the man he was arguing with. They opened back up, but only narrowly. Vegeta’s face took a quizzical turn.

“As opposed to your puppet?”

“What?”

Vegeta heard the question loud and clear, but he needed to buy a few moments to properly articulate a response.

Gohan wouldn’t give him a chance, snarling. “You heard me. What am I doing here? Am I just another Saiyan to help you take care of Frieza and fall in line after?”

Vegeta scowled. So did Gohan.

“Answer me!”

At being ordered, Vegeta’s eyes darkened even more than the sky. “I don’t have to tell you shit, boy. You ought to watch how you speak to the man to whom you owe your strength. Try doing this alone and see where that gets you.”

“I’m only a third your age and I’m stronger than you were when Raditz first dragged me here.” Gohan measured his words with a spitefulness that made even the steely Saiyan Prince shudder. “So you tell me how far I can go.”

Vegeta had no response, only a growl. Gohan advanced another footstep.

“You know what I really think, Vegeta? You’re scared I’ll be the one to get Frieza. And then I just might be a bigger problem for you than he ever was.”

Vegeta’s eyes billowed at Gohan as if he’d grown a second tail. Such an audacious spiel sounded foreign coming from the boy. But whatever shock had overcome him, he soon laughed off. 

“You pompous little brat. Grow a few public hairs and think you’re hot shit, huh?” Vegeta raised his tightly squeezed fist towards Gohan. “No son of a third-class will ever be a threat to me.”

“Are you sure?” Gohan focused his eyes as if they were X-Rays. Vegeta paused, but a single bead of sweat swam his answer down to his chin.

Gohan released years of pent up scorn with just one razor-sharp glare. “If you were so worried about me surpassing you, then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Vegeta blinked, but took a deep breath of realization. “I see. So that’s what this is really about. After all these years, you still miss Earth, huh?”

Gohan turned his body slightly and looked away. Vegeta had snatched the magic wand of probing away and effortlessly revealed the layer of angst and regret within him. He shook with resentment.

Vegeta eyed Gohan up and down like he was a repulsive specimen. “Hn. Go ahead, then. Start your hapless crew and end up a speck of dust on some worthless planet when you’re too strong for your own good. The honor of Frieza’s defeat should go to a full-blooded Saiyan, not some half-breed freak who was never weaned off his worthless human mother’s tit.”

A microsecond later, Vegeta’s deliberately callous message of spite earned him the feeling of every breath leaving his body. Gohan delivered a punch to his gut that broke him to his core, leaving him less a Saiyan Prince and more a writhing baboon coughing on his knees.

The santy and humanity that made Gohan who he was had vacated his eyes. He glowered at Vegeta like he was prey. With even more unholy force, Gohan kicked Vegeta square in the face with the sole of his boot, propelling him into a mountain. But that didn’t satiate his righteous anger. Gohan stalked towards him while he sat motionlessly against the remains of the mountain. He raised his palm towards his unconscious face and imbued it with the type of infernal Ki that he couldn’t muster under cooler emotions.

The sight of his energy simmering against his palm took Gohan back to that day years prior, when the same man lying before him forced him into a similar position with Mentos. His first kill, a betrayal that spiraled into his premature escape that led him to Planet Zuna.

Where Vegeta had saved his life with a blast much like he was prepared to fire.

“When the chips are down, they’re all you got.”

Hearing Kiyomi’s words from years prior snapped Gohan back to reality. At the end of the day, he was still a Saiyan. He would not start his path as Zarbon had.

He relinquished the energy and slung the still-unconscious Vegeta’s arm over his shoulder to hold him up. He flew back to Frieza’s base and stepped inside, dragging Vegeta through the halls and into a healing tank after besting him in combat and offering mercy.

After getting him properly set up and turning on the solution, Gohan stared at Vegeta for a long time as he contemplated his impending decision. Frieza and Vegeta agreed on one thing - he still harbored eons of pent up aggression towards the Saiyans for everything they’d thrown him into.

A startled hiss interrupted Gohan’s musings. It was Nappa, grimacing at Vegeta as he floated in the healing tank.

“Sheesh, kid, are you trying to take all of us out now?” he asked, jovially. “Raditz was bitching about you flipping out on him, now Vegeta? Hope I ain’t next.”

“It’s nothing. Training got out of hand.”

Nappa snickered as he shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Vegeta used to be the one leaving you in the tanks.” He folded his arms and sat down on the table nearby. “Where the hell does all the time go?”

Gohan stood still, looking back and forth between his two Saiyan seniors.

“I used to be the one dragging this little shit back to healing tanks when we were still training him,” Nappa said, smirking at the old memories. “He passes me, now it looks like you’re passin’ him.”

Gohan blinked in shock. No, he couldn’t have been stronger, right? It was just a brief flash of rage Vegeta hadn’t been prepared for, right?

Nappa scratched his greying beard and sighed. “I’ve put a lot of friggin’ years into this, kid. A lot . At the rate you’re going, we might be deadweight by the time you’re Vegeta’s age. If Frieza doesn’t keep holdin’ us back, at least. You’ll probably be draggin’ us geezers around in wheelchairs ‘til we croak.”

As Nappa looked on at Vegeta, Gohan kept his eyes on the beard that told the tale of his age. He didn’t want to be Nappa, left languishing under Frieza’s rule for his entire lifetime. Hell, he didn’t want to be Vegeta, an embittered man left to swallow his pride at every given moment. Frieza had this mistaken idea that Gohan’s humanity would make him easier to manipulate - if he was going to get where he needed to be, maybe it was time to play along as his own man and forge his own path to victory.

He turned around and left the room.

“The boy is too powerful to go to waste. Just hope he makes the right decision.”

“I know this. Don’t misunderstand; just because you proposed this idea doesn’t mean I hadn't given it plenty of thought myself.”

“All I’m saying is that the Saiyans are assets. The sooner you see them as weapons and not as threats, the sooner your sector will flourish.”

“I assure you, I’ll see them as whatever I assess is necessary, Cooler. I can run my empire just fine.”

“If you say so, little brother.”

“Always a pleasure,” Frieza said with a twinge of resentment before turning his scouter off. His older brother was always the nosy, overbearing type, constantly trying to tell him how to run his own empire. Why was it his business how he approached the Saiyans, anyway? He had his own plans with them, and Cooler stood nowhere in the notes.

Before he could brood over his brother any further, the doors of his throne room opened. He didn’t need to turn around to know who stepped inside. Instead, he spread his purple lips into a smile while he waited to hear his guest’s voice.

“I’ll do it.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Vegeta woke up from the healing chamber, he blasted the glass away. The startled attendant yelped as the liquid solution splashed onto him while Vegeta marched out of the room. He had left the healing tank from far worse incidents in his lifetime, but very few had wounded his pride so deeply .

Knocked out by the half-breed son of a low-class soldier. The nephew of Raditz , for God’s sake. As the Prince of the Saiyan race, Vegeta couldn’t allow it to stand. Yet - he knew this day would come sooner than later, ever since he surpassed Nappa. But what he didn’t count on was Frieza bringing it about.

When he arrived in the Saiyan chambers, Raditz and Nappa immediately noticed his intense glare.

“What the hell happened?” Raditz asked.

Vegeta stared a thousand yards ahead. After a twitch of his eye, he walked up to Raditz and punched him in the stomach with no provocation. He was related to Gohan and vaguely resembled him; an adequate enough venting target, Vegeta concluded. After Raditz hacked up spit and stumbled back up to his feet, Vegeta kicked his cot.

“Frieza happened,” Vegeta spat. “If my suspicions are correct, Gohan will no longer be part of us.”

“What?!” Raditz shouted. “What do you mean...did Frieza…?”

“No,” Vegeta replied, figuring Raditz assumed the worst. “He’s playing him against us; offering him to conquer strong planets as his own man while we’re stuck here.”

“Ridiculous. I know he’s just a kid but he’s smart enough to see through that nonsense,” Raditz said.

Vegeta closed his eyes to regulate the foreign emotions overcoming him. “Perhaps; but the boy made it abundantly clear he still harbors resentment for us. No doubt Frieza planted some bullshit into his head.”

“Well that would explain him freaking out on me earlier…” Raditz said.

“But if Frieza isn’t bullshitting him, then where does that leave us?” Nappa asked. “It’s pretty damn obvious Frieza is gonna leave us as janitors as long as he sees fit.”

Vegeta tried to remain still, but found his fists clenching in and out of an iron grip. His mind grappled with Nappa’s observation and his own restless thoughts, wondering what he was even doing with his life anymore. With a ferocious growl, he slammed one of his fists against his cot, cracking it and caving it into the ground.

“Dammit!” he shouted. “How much longer, huh?! This isn’t working anymore!”

And worst of all, Gohan knew it. Long ago, Vegeta wondered if trying to weed out Gohan’s humanity was a mistake; instead Frieza exploited it. But if Gohan found his traitorous path to growth, then Vegeta would figure out his own.

Or die trying.

Gohan leaned against a wall in a bright room with his arms folded, scowling. Though he’d only done what he felt was the best option for defeating Frieza, he couldn’t fight the jeers of “sellout” in his head. Not only did he go right along with Frieza’s desires, but he lashed out against Vegeta and Raditz. 

He felt like the man standing a few feet away who was talking with Dodoria; Zarbon.

“Alright, kid, as a captain you’re allowed to pick one person to start out with,” Dodoria called. “No Saiyans.”

Gohan rolled his eyes. That much was obvious.

“Make it good, brat.”

Gohan spoke up without a second thought.

“Arepa.”

Zarbon and Dodoria exchanged confused glances before looking back at Gohan. “The crass girl from Cui’s crew?” Zarbon asked. “They were your rivals, correct?”

Gohan simply nodded. He didn’t owe them an explanation.

Dodoria shrugged. “Well, even if she has no objections to it, I’m pretty sure she’s Cui’s second in command. If Cui’s got a problem with it, then you’ll have to fight him for her.”

That earned a smirk from the half-Saiyan. “That’s it? Easy.”

The two officers just looked at each other and laughed, their money on Cui getting the better of that scuffle. Gohan’s quiet calm remained unfettered, however. Cui had allowed himself to stagnate over the years while Gohan, even before Frieza’s restrictive provisions, had grown considerably.

“Well, if you really think so, then let’s send them on over,” Zarbon snickered, clicking his scouter on. “Cui, Arepa! Report to assembly room four at once.”

Moments later, the two arrived with inquisitive expressions when they found Gohan sitting against the wall. After a brief glance at Arepa, Gohan stood up, cracked his neck, and shook his wrists a few times. Cui awkwardly buckled.

“Gohan has ascended to Captain’s rank and will be splitting from the Saiyans,” Zarbon informed, eliciting gasps from Arepa and Cui. “And he’s picked you, Arepa, to be the first member of his crew.”

While Cui scowled indignantly, Arepa blinked in surprise, bringing her puzzled eyes to Gohan’s. She swung her head back and forth between her current boss and her teenage peer.

“As if !” Cui yelled. “You’re not seriously gonna let that little chimp poach my crew, are you?!”

With an imposing threat in his gait, Gohan marched forward to give Cui a receipt for his insult but was halted by Zarbon’s hand. “I realize this is a problem for you, Cui,” Zarbon said. “And so I will allow you to make your argument through combat.”

“A fight over lil’ ol’ me?” Arepa asked with a theatrical smile, to the eyerolls of the grown men in the room. Gohan, on the other hand, snickered. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Cui scoffed, to Arepa’s annoyance. “But I’ll be damned if I let this brat get one over on me. You’re on!”

“We’ll settle this in one of the training quarters. Follow me.”

Among the party of five leaving the room to head down the hall, Cui stared daggers at Gohan while Arepa giggled behind them. Gohan didn’t even acknowledge him, looking straight ahead. When everyone arrived in the dark training room, Zarbon and Dodoria perched against a wall. Arepa did the same in the wall opposite to them. In the center of the room, the two combatants stood across from each other.

“First guy to go unconscious loses,” Dodoria said. “Now let’s get this shit over and done with.”

For his own amusement, Cui clicked his scouter to run Gohan’s power level. “15,000?” He laughed out of that cacophonic voice. “15,000 and you think you can take me! This’ll be over in 15 seconds .”

Ah, Gohan’s favorite part of suppressing his Ki. Merely smirking at Cui’s taunts, he crouched into a fighting stance. He looked over Cui’s shoulders at Arepa, who eyed him with a spellbinding smile that he couldn’t quite place. 

He lunged at Cui, figuring he would patronize him with the opportunity for first strike. Though he swung a lethal punch, Cui blocked it with his forearm...and screamed in pain while it flared into a bright blue shade.

“Wh-what the hell?!”

It was all he could spit out before Gohan launched him into the wall with a knee to the gut. Arepa moved out of the way, letting her boss smack into the fortified stone and crumble to the marble floor. 

“I don’t get it!” Cui spat out a wad of blue blood. “That was way stronger than 15,000!”

In a move that would have made his former boss proud, Gohan folded his arms and tilted his head back as he leered boastfully at Cui, inciting his fury. He even uncurled his tail to show just how unfettered he was.

“Whatever! You can’t take me!”

With a primal scream, Cui charged at Gohan and wildly swung his fists at his face. Despite his speed and ferocity, not one punch landed; Gohan effortlessly read and evaded his movements. He tried jumping in the air and bringing the hammer down with his fists, but Gohan blocked the ensuing blow with both arms - and unlike Cui, he felt no pain. After his jaw dejectedly sank, Cui leaped away from Gohan.

“It’s been longer than 15 seconds, by the way,” Gohan pointed out.

“SHUT UP!” Cui yelled while Arepa laughed. He flew at Gohan, but the boy jumped back and sprung off the wall with one leg. Cui was ready, however, and lunged backwards. He even knocked Gohan down with an elbow to his back. When Gohan got up on one knee, Cui’s prominent eyes widened in sweet realization.

“Gotcha!”

In a split-second, Cui reached out and grabbed Gohan’s uncurled tail, the Saiyans’ achilles heel. It was his trump card on Vegeta during their childhood quarrels, and it would work just as well on Gohan. The half-Saiyan shrieked and collapsed, Cui cackling while Arepa scowled contemptfully at him. 

“Ha! Y’see, it’s just in you monkeys’ biology to lose to me! All I gotta do is gra-”

Flabbergasting all in the room, Gohan swung back up and with his tail, pulled Cui’s grotesque face into the sharpest point of his elbow. As soon as Cui hit the wall behind them, he was knocked out.

“You were saying?”

While Zarbon took a few moments to contain his shock, Dodoria chuckled. “Well it doesn’t take a genius to figure out ol’ tadpole is out of it. The monkey wins.”

Gohan restrained his scorn for the quip while he dusted his armor off, only regarding Dodoria and his smug grin with a snarl. He was too satisfied from finally knocking Cui on his ass to spoil it with a thrashing from the ogre whose temper was as hot as the pink of his prickly skin.

Zarbon awkwardly cleared his throat. “Alright, the matter is settled. Arepa, you are with Gohan now. Lord Frieza will brief you two on your first mission tomorrow.” His voice carried just enough unease for Gohan to take notice. Good .

When the two officers left, Arepa strolled towards Gohan with a goofy smile on her face. “A true gentleman, fighting for my honor!”

“Oh, shut up,” Gohan said, woe to her sarcasm. As soon as he took a step, Arepa grabbed him and locked her arm in his, snarkily clinging to him like a smitten maiden. Gohan couldn’t bat her away fast enough, blushing as he did so while she laughed him off. 

While Gohan walked away, Arepa snuck a pat on his shoulder. “Good shit, though. I was gettin’ sick of that guy.” As Cui awoke from his daze mumbling incoherently, she flashed him a peace sign and strutted away with her new leader.

“You must’ve worked on your tail after that shit I pulled back then, huh?” Arepa asked.

Gohan winced, recalling his violent outburst against her. It was a miracle things got back on track with her, but he could sense the slightest twinge of fear in her voice as she recalled it. 

“Why me, though? Like, for real?”

Goan had a million reasons why, but voiced none of them. “Doesn’t matter why. I felt like it.”

“Sure…”

After shrugging off her disbelieving tone, Gohan kept his aimless stroll until he realized a problem. “Wait. Where are we gonna sleep?”

Arepa shrugged. “We’ll just find a room and if whoever was there has a problem with it, tough shit.” 

Gohan smiled in agreement. They took up the first vacant room they could find. It was no different from any of the other sleeping quarters around, a drab room with a few stone cots and shelves. 

Just before they sat down, Arepa froze. “Ah wait, I gotta get somethin’. Gimme a sec.”

While Arepa left, Gohan took a deep breath and sat down on a cot. It was just like old times again, only now without the Saiyans. He couldn’t believe he’d ever be thinking about them with a nostalgic lens, but there he was. Despite everything, their pride and resolve rubbed off on him; Vegeta wasn’t just being arrogant when he said Gohan owed something to them.

Arepa returned wielding a black, circular device. She placed it at cot’s front edge. “Check this out.” She pressed a button on the device, releasing a field of light that enshrouded the entire cot.

“What’s that?” Gohan asked.

“Give it a touch,” Arepa replied with a mischievous smile that Gohan regarded distrustfully. Concluding that he didn’t fear whatever nonsense she had planned, he obliged. He reached out his finger to touch the light--and was rewarded with an electric shock that launched him across the room.

While Arepa laughed, Gohan peevishly growled after recovering from the jolt. “What the hell was that for?!”

“It’s a forcefield. The lady-Zarbon made it for me. It’s so none of these weirdos can break in and try anything while I sleep.”

“What do you mean?” Gohan asked as he stood back up. “We Saiyans are public enemy number one around here and we never had to deal with break-in attacks.”

“Not attacks, dummy.” Arepa folded her arms uncomfortably with a resentful sneer. When Gohan gave her a perplexed eyebrow-raise, she irritably placed her hands on her waist and glared sideways with narrowed eyes. With her refusal to elaborate, Gohan was in the dark on what she was alluding to. 

Well, until she stuck out her more, erm, prominent chest.

“Oh…”

When Arepa frowned and stared at the floor, Gohan felt a twinge of guilt. With how lewdly Raditz and Nappa often spoke of women, he should have figured females would have a rougher time around a bunch of vile space pirates.

Quickly leaving the ugliness behind, however, Arepa smirked at Gohan. “Don’t tell me I gotta use it for you too, Gohan.”

Grimacing, Gohan turned away from her. “Gross!”

Not letting up, she leaned in close to Gohan with a presumptuous smile. “I mean that is the real reason you picked me, right? Eh? Eh?”

“Shut up.”

She backed away and switched the force-field off before sitting down on the cot. “No but seriously, if I can think of anybody I’d actually like to work for around here, it’d be you.”

Gohan didn’t reply, instead looking down and scratching the back of his head like his father often did. Frankly, she’d answered the question of why he chose her on her own, whether she figured it out or not.

Arepa kicked her boots off and leaned back against the wall. “Now let’s kick ass out there.”

“Of course.”

When Vegeta happened to walk down the hallway with Raditz and Nappa the next day and saw whom Gohan had left the room with, he couldn’t hide his disgust. 

“Unbelievable,” he said. Gohan and Arepa stopped dead in their tracks; in particular, Gohan’s posture stiffened with a deep breath. The half-breed looked like he would have rather done anything but look Vegeta in his face.

“Don’t tell me this was what it was really about, half-breed,” he scolded. “A hormonal brat trying to get his dick wet?”

While Arepa unsettlingly gasped, Gohan growled and whipped around with a resentful snarl. “Save it, Vegeta.”

“Or what ?”

Despite Gohan’s tough demeanor, Vegeta could see the droplets of sweat coating his forehead. Clearly, the boy still knew where he really stood. “We don’t need to do this. We’re not enemies here.”

“Hmph. Well we’re certainly not on the same side. I still owe you a beating.” Despite having gotten the better of their scuffle, Gohan hung his head in shame. “Now clear the way, half-breed, before I hand you your receipt.”

Like he was still under his authority, Gohan moved aside for his Prince. Vegeta walked away with his two subordinates, leering at Arepa disdainfully as he did. Nappa groaned in disgust when Gohan was away from earshot.

“What use does that mouthy little bitch even have for Gohan?” he asked. “He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t slow him down.”

“He’s still soft, that’s all there is to it,” Vegeta replied, disappointment weighing down his voice. “He needs to have a ‘friend’ around.”

“Absurd,” Raditz replied.

Then again, as Vegeta had always noticed, that “softness” might have been the source of Gohan’s power. Hell, he’d just experienced it for himself.

Outwardly, though, he disapproved. “But the boy’s no longer our concern.” For now. “Now let’s shift our fortunes our own way.” He led Nappa and Raditz down the hall into the repair room, currently occupied by a slew of overworked technicians. He scanned the room until he found Lemo and Kiyomi working on a space pod and joined them.

“You,” Vegeta said to Kiyomi, getting her and Lemo’s attention. He made a cutting motion with his finger. Kiyomi nodded, clicked her scouter, and scrolled the glass until she found a command and tapped it. The Saiyan scouter signals were jammed. 

“The same chip you made for the boy, you will make for us,” Vegeta stated. 

“Why?” Kiyomi asked. “Gohan’s already got you covered. Hell, he can make one himself.”

“Well he’s no longer on our crew.”

“What?!” Kiyomi couldn’t contain her shock. 

Of course, Vegeta was still processing the surprise himself. “But that’s not important. Make one for us. And I assume you know how to tamper with the planet directory?”

While Lemo gawked in shock, Kiyomi scoffed. “Are you asking what I think you are?”

Vegeta raised his eyebrow.

“Look, I can hand out a few signal jammers; but I don’t think you realize what I’d be doing if I started manipulating interplanetary activity.”

“Humor me.” Vegeta remained stone-faced.

“It’s treason, Vegeta. Hell, you guys uncovered the last case of that and saw what happened to Boysen.”

“You say that as if I care what happens to you,” Vegeta dismissed. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you take a planet off the books as a favor to the half-breed?”

Though Kiyomi sputtered at its mention, she remained firm. “ One planet to protect somebody with no known connection to this organization. Zarbon already knows of our association, so if you guys go into hiding-”

His forehead pulsing, Vegeta made an imposing advance. “Who said anything about hiding? We want you to find strong worlds for us to conquer.”

Gawking at Vegeta like he’d spoken a foreign language, Kiyomi chuckled incredulously. “ Wow , okay. I hadn’t realized I was underestimating the insanity you’re asking of me. Not a chance in hell.”

Vegeta shoved her directly into his face by the collar of her armor. Every scientist in the room dropped what they were doing to gawk perilously at the confrontation. He could see the fear in her eyes as she tried to turn away from his intense gaze. Over the years, he’d built a violent reputation for himself; she’d seen some of the incidents in person. She knew precisely what type of danger awaited her.

“I could kill you and everyone here and they’d find some worthless drones to replace you,” Vegeta said through his teeth, his nose almost touching hers. “Now, you’re one of the few people here I actually respect a little , so I’ll grant you the courtesy of a few extra moments to find compliance. Use them wisely.”

He released her from his grip by tossing her to the floor, letting her check smack into the marble. While she sat up and wiped blood from her cheek, Vegeta folded his arms. “Any time now, woman.”

With how grimly she glared at Vegeta, Kiyomi looked more like her male counterpart. “Fine.” Satisfied by her answer, Vegeta stepped away and gave her room to stand back up; who said he wasn’t a gentleman? “But listen to me, because it is every bit as much for your sake as it is for mine - you can not be sloppy in any of this. Whatever you do, Frieza’s assignments had better be accounted for first, because I know he’s not giving you guys traditional work. I can finagle your deadlines but that is as far as I’ll go.”

Kiyomi didn’t realize that the urgency with which she spoke only excited the thrillseeking Saiyan even more. “All you need to do is make sure those planets we strike go unnoticed. You can do it for that brat’s soft-hearted desires, can’t you?” Vegeta asked.

“Fine. No loose ends, got it?” Kiyomi exhaled through her nose after Vegeta confidently nodded. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on with the kid? Why’d he leave?”

“I do mind, actually,” Vegeta replied before he and the other two Saiyans turned and walked away.

Lemo laughed sardonically and muttered a few foreign expressions. “Those Saiyans keep getting our legs deeper and deeper into shit, huh?”

Kiyomi absent-mindedly shrugged, focusing on Gohan. Whatever brought about his change in scenery, she hoped it had nothing to do with their conversation about Zarbon.

When Gohan kneeled with Arepa in Frieza’s throne room, he was still shaken from his standoff with Vegeta. He’d long grown numb to Vegeta’s usual harsh rebukes. Disappointment, on the other hand? Nearly every waking second for the last eight years, meeting the Prince of all Saiyan’s expectations was among his greatest priorities; he’d thrown it away with interest.

“Ah, so I see our new crew is a reservoir of youth,” Frieza observed. “I do hope this is the beginning of you pair’s grandiose ascenst. I think it will take some time before I get used to seeing you without your Saiyan elders by your side, Gohan.”

Just keep kneeling respectfully, Gohan said to himself. Without Vegeta, he would need to stand on his own two feet. 

“Now, onto your first assignment together. Recently one of our supply planets was ransacked by an unscrupulous gang of ruffians. Our intelligence finally intercepted their communications and discovered their location, and they’ve retreated to a planet by the name of Peroni. It’s a formidable world that no nearby soldier can hope to compete with. That’s where you two come in.”

That’s what Gohan wanted to hear - soldiers too much for the regular folks to handle.

“You are to kill them all - every last species that lives on the planet. Find as much equipment as you can and preserve their conditions. Let us know of anything useful that you find as well.” Frieza sounded a touch irritated over the thievery - but of course, couldn’t be bothered to handle it himself. “The average recorded power level of the planet is around 1,000, meaning the race is filled up and down with formidable soldiers. Be prepared for combat.”

A competitive smirk painted Gohan’s features. If even the average was at 1,000, that boded well for the upper level soldiers. At the end of the day, that was the reason for his decision.

“Given the fortitude of the mission and the scale of the planet, I’m giving you a three week deadline. Don’t let my expectation for you be in error, now!”

“Yes, Lord Frieza.”

Gohan and Arepa left Frieza’s throne room and went outside, where two space pods were ready for them. As she got closer to the pod, Arepa excitedly pounded her hands together.

“Our first mission as a squad! This is actually kinda cool!”

“I guess…”

Arepa rolled her eyes. “Good ol’ Gohan, always staying on the bright side.”

As he stepped inside his pod, Gohan snickered at Arepa’s unrelenting pep. He wondered if a few weeks around her would drive him mad.

The fighting had started from the moment Gohan and Arepa arrived on the purple-skied world. The thieves - gangs of furry, dog-like men - had been prepared for a Frieza Force retaliation; just not from anybody as strong as Gohan. Having learned from his experience on planet Zuna, he and Arepa cleared away everyone within the immediate vicinity of their space pods with well-aimed Ki blasts. 

From there, it was war. Gohan and Arepa decided to split up, expeditiously taking on the droves of soldiers that came their way. Gohan drifted towards the stronger clusters, taking them out as efficiently as he could. With the sheer numbers, however, the fights had been as lengthy as they were exhausting. He found Vegeta chastising him for his reliance on Ki during their fateful spar odd, considering he’d learned it from him - it was the easiest way to handle numerous foes. It saw heavy use in his assault.

By the end of week two, Gohan found himself sitting atop a scrapyard in battered armor, chewing on a roasted arm from one of his victims. Since they were effectively a bunch of overgrown canines, Gohan found it far easier to partake in the barbaric consumption of corpses that his former Saiyan comrades enjoyed. Seeing them that way certainly made it easier to bury his feelings about killing them, at least.

He clicked his scouter. “Dead yet, Arepa?”

“YEOW! Shit, Gohan, you threw me off!” Gohan laughed. “I’m handlin’ myself…” A blast and a scream went off in the background. “...fine!”

“Good,” Gohan said before clicking his scouter off. The strongest Ki Gohan could sense on the planet kept moving all over the place; clearly, the mystery fighter’s plan was to bombard Gohan and Arepa with as many reinforcements as possible to save himself the effort. Since Gohan had plenty of time, he decided to wait. Picking off his tenacious redshirts was more than sufficient training.

After finishing off the last of that arm, Gohan tapped his scouter to record the scrapyard’s location. Standard procedure saw one of Frieza’s survey crews collect all of the tech and resources following the purge’s completion; records made their job easier and more importantly spared the soldiers a petty thrashing. His hunt for the strongest Ki signature continued in the skies.

Mid-flight, Gohan leaped when he saw a torpedo heading his way. Catching it with both hands took nothing, however, and then he swung around and tossed it at the other fighter he sensed flying at him. The missile impaled the pink wolf and left him a distant memory high in the sky. Turning his attention to the three Ki signatures heading directly for him, Gohan squared his shoulders and powered up.

Two armored coyotes, one red and the other blue, and an orange fox stopped in front of him, all with vengeful scowls on their faces. “We ain't gonna let you Frieza Force scumbags wreck our planet and escape,” sneered the orange fox.

“I think it's a little too late for that.”

“You'll pay for what you've done to us! When we’re done with ya, you’se gonna wish ya ran off before ya go nighty-night!” the red coyote yelled. Gohan sighed, knowing they had good reason to be angry. But a job was a job.

“LET’S GO!” The orange fox yelled before they all took off. 

Gohan flew away from their pursuit, building a distance before he rattled several Ki blasts off. While they evaded and deflected the blasts, Gohan zeroed in on the fox and drove his knee into his stomach. As soon as their ally fell, though, the red and blue coyotes struck him from behind. All of the nonstop fighting had exhausted Gohan’s reflexes, leaving him more vulnerable to numbers. 

Stopping his descent to the ground with a Ki wave, Gohan propelled to the complementary dogs and drilled elbows into both their faces. When the orange fox chased after him, he kicked him, too. The dogs regained their bearings and surrounded Gohan on all sides. After darting his eyes back and forth between all three of their growling faces, Gohan flew back to the dirt. After they took the bait and lunged down, Gohan unleashed a fierce Kiai shout that dispersed them with shockwaves. 

Gohan fired a blast with killing intent, but the nimble blue coyote phased behind him. He drove his knee into Gohan’s lower back, unknowingly getting his vulnerable tailbone and devastating him. Though he trained his tail to withstand someone’s grip, the bone itself was still a major weak spot for Gohan. The impact flung him ahead, right into two blasts from the coyote and the fox.

“Don't feel too good when it's you sufferin', eh?!” The orange fox growled.

Gohan stumbled back up, batting away the clouds of dust in the wake of his crash landing. On their own, these guys weren’t much - but combined, they frustrated him. He powered up again, but the quick fox had already snuck behind and locked his arms - with Gohan’s size disadvantage, it was all too easy.

“Now's our chance, fellas!”

The two coyotes took off like spears and collided headfirst into Gohan’s chest. He screamed at the top of his lungs as they drove him and the fox into an enormous cliff; the fox let go with a few seconds to spare so he could crash into it.

His body caved into the rock, Gohan coughed hoarsely. Arepa’s voice yelled for his attention on the scouter.

“Uh, Gohan, I got a lil’ problem here,” she said, sounding distressed. “A guy with a 20,000 power level’s heading right for me!”

“Shit,” Gohan wheezed. “Gimme a sec. Hold him off for as long as you can.”

“Don’t try nothin’ funny with my corpse.” Even through all the pain and frustration, he still laughed at her off-color wit. 

The three dogs cackled and launched Ki from their palms to try finishing Gohan off. His urgency at its heights, Gohan reduced the cliff to a pile of rocks with a burst of Ki that he channeled to his quivering hands. He fired a Ki wave of his own that put the three blasts heading his way to shame, vaporizing them. The three furry men only had a few moments to breathe petrified gasps before the blast collided with them and put an end to their lives.

Panting heavily, Gohan rubbed his sore back and fled the scene. He flew as fast as his Ki allowed, as he could feel Arepa struggling against the mighty force that had eluded him for the entirety of his mission. Perhaps splitting up wasn’t a great idea—he shouldn’t have ruled out the stronger people pursuing the weaker opponent first. Few in the universe were wired like the Saiyans.

Nightfall hit by the time he made it to the city where the fight ensued. A grey wolf the size of Nappa had Arepa seized against his red suit in a formidable grip. His protective nature flaring, Gohan dove with ferocity and ended the assault with a dropkick to the skull. He caught Arepa before she hit the ground.

“The hell are you doing?!” Arepa yelled. “Fight that g-”

Arepa couldn’t get the whole sentence out before the musclebound wolfman slammed his entire arm into Gohan’s collarbone, flipping the boy over a few times like a crash-test dummy. 

“You dare hit Narimara?!” the incensed wolf yelled, baring his sword-like, saliva-coated fangs.

Arepa jumped over to Gohan as he shuddered on the ground. “Yeah, he’s got a third-person thing goin’ on.” Rubbing her inflamed hip, she chided Gohan with a glare as he got up to a knee. “And I appreciate the help ‘n all, but you gotta keep your eyes on the prize!”

As if to illustrate her Vegeta-like argument, the wolf - Narimara, apparently - rushed at Gohan like his more feral counterparts. The deadly chop intended for Gohan’s head only hit his forearm. And to Narimara’s shock, Gohan didn’t budge.

“Ah, I see, so ya must be the boss, then. NO MATTER!”

With his fist equaled the boy’s skull in size, he went for another punch only to see it caught in the young Saiyan’s palm. Gohan swung Narimara over his shoulder like he were a mere pup and flung him into a building that collapsed on collision. 

“Now that’s more like it!” Arepa cheered. Since she was behind him, she couldn’t see the twinge of satisfaction her praise brought Gohan. 

Narimara emerged from the ruins with a snarl spread across his muzzle. “You Frieza rats just can’t let a guy live, eh? Narimara tries to make bank and you pricks gotta ruin everything like ya run the goddamn universe.”

Gohan offered no comment, mostly because he agreed. But he had a job to do, and Narimara’s aspirations stood in the way. 

“Narimara’s gonna be shittin’ you two out by the time he’s done with ya!”

While Arepa squirmed at his grotesque imagery, Narimara jumped into the sky and fired a blast at Gohan. It was evaded, as Gohan jumped into the sky - but another blast came his way. With no other choice, Gohan had to lift his arms up to absorb the force. He fell into a nearby light pole but wrapped his tail around it and spun rapidly into a clean, steady landing.

Narimara took a bewildered step back. “Shit, Narimara knew you was the big guns, but it looks he’ll hafta get serious.”

Before he could actually get serious, though, Gohan warped in front of him and drilled him with a punch right onto his muzzle. Narimara flew back, but shook himself off and hopped off from the ground, using his hands as forelimbs to leap forward and swing them down at Gohan’s head with lethal force. Once again, he only hit air; but he knew Gohan had tumbled behind him. He stuck his leg out, leveling him with a kick from the sole of his boot.

Though Gohan’s chest still burned from all of the punishment, he landed on his feet and came right back with a kick just as hard from his exponentially smaller leg. To keep him down, he unleashed a succession of strikes and finished it off with another kick. Narimara hit the ground in a heap, while Gohan stared at him emotionlessly.

“Get up!” Gohan commanded. “I know that’s not all.”

Narimara obliged, standing back up with a toothy smirk. “Alrighty, then. If ya hungry for a beatin’, then I’ll serve ya right up.”

With speed beyond his mass, Narimara jumped behind Gohan and smacked his entire body with just his forearm. He didn’t let up, either, grabbing him by his hair to smash his face into his knee and fling him into a building with a machine’s precision. 

Assuming Gohan defeated, Narimara set his sights back on the cowering Arepa. “Now, where was we?”

In a matter of seconds, Arepa’s worry gave way to triumph. With his back turned, Narimara didn’t see the huge, blue Ki wave coming for him - the one that hit him and detonated on impact. Arepa planted her feet and lifted her arms to shield herself from the shockwaves as light and dust crowded her vision. 

Gohan flew away from the building he’d been launched into, landing next to Arepa. As the dust faded away, he could see Narimara rolling around on the ground, coughing with frustration. He banged his fist against the pavement and jumped back up.

“You two ain’t nothin’ but Frieza’s bitches. We're tryin' to make an honest living while you folks only wanna destroy.” Narimara boastfully pointed to his chest. “But Narimara’s his own man, and he’s gonna wipe you two out and get an even bigger haul from ya boss!”

Despite his crude accent and childish third-person speech, Narimara’s statement rattled Gohan just enough to leave himself open. Neither he nor Arepa were spared when Narimara slammed into them with both arms swinging. While Arepa fell with a thud, Gohan just barely managed to spring off the ground with his hands and answered Narimara with a kick.

Like heavyweight boxers, the two powerful warriors exchanged mighty attacks while Arepa marveled, sitting up from the ground and staying out of a fight beyond her level. While Narimara was tough, Gohan’s blows had a little more power to them; it left him slower to strike back. The war-mongering Saiyan blood within Gohan boiled with thrills, reveling in the war that had long eluded him. Even the pain was exciting.

Sensing where the tide was turning, Narimara leaped into the sky and fired a massive blast at Gohan. It came down fast enough to warrant Gohan jumping out of the way, triggering another explosion when it hit the ground. 

However, it was exactly what Narimara wanted, because during the commotion he grabbed Arepa by her hair and lifted her up. It was the first thing Gohan saw when the smoke cleared.

“What's it gonna be, kid?!” Arepa feebly tried to escape his hand. “You attack, and ya gonna hafta fight without ya girlfriend.”

“Coward!” Gohan seethed.

"Don't get mad at Narimara, kid," the beast scoffed. "You two thugs took it here, and now Narimara's sinkin' down to ya level."

As right as he may have been, his tactic still lit a fire in Gohan. It was already low enough, but seeing Arepa in such a position left the half-Saiyan fuming. He contemplated using his speed, but doubted it would work.

But then, Arepa took matters into her own hands - literally. While Narimara laughed at Gohan’s predicament, Arepa reached up and squeezed one of his prominent fangs. With all of her reserve strength, she pulled until she yanked the entire bloody tooth out. Screaming a good two octaves higher than his regular voice, Narimara let go of her to rub his flaring mouth. For good measure, she stabbed the tooth into his foot to pin him to the ground, giving Gohan his opening. Thrusting ahead with all his might, Gohan drove his fist right through Narimara’s stomach, freeing him of the misery from his severed fang.

When Narimara spat out a gallon of blood and fell onto his stomach, Gohan discarded his guts-soaked glove, rolled up his sleeves, and wiped his forehead off. He felt like he’d been in a shipwreck, but that was perfectly fine. 

“I owe you one, Arepa,” Gohan said as he crouched down to ease his sore muscles. 

“No sweat,” Arepa said, looking down at the giant, furry corpse. “That just about covers most of ‘em, right?”

“Yeah,” Gohan said. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Already way ahead of ya,” Arepa said. She blasted down a light pole, then jumped up and chopped it in half. After planting the two pieces into the ground, she tore Narimara’s clothes off (thankful he was already on his stomach) and with a few well-aimed cuts and Ki-assistance, she cleanly skinned him and lifted his legs. She glared at Gohan.

“A lil’ help here?”

Gohan rolled his eyes, but grabbed Narimara’s arms to help lift his immense weight off the ground and set him atop the poles, crudely impaling his face and stomach into them to fasten the body. Gohan found the few trees around the city, chopped them up, and dumped them into a pile below Narimara’s body, lighting them on fire with his Ki.

While Narimara roasted, Gohan and Arepa sat down beside each other, gazing at the starry night sky.

“‘Bout time we finished these guys off,” Arepa said with a sigh. “I was gettin’ sick o’ their accents.”

“Now that’s rich coming from you,” Gohan snorted.

“Shut up.” Gohan shook his head and laughed at her. “Y’know you love it.”

Though he rolled his eyes, he supposed she wasn’t entirely wrong. He kept his eyes on the sky while the flames warmed him up. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks, so he was going to enjoy a moment of rest.

“This is why I like missions,” Arepa said. “When it’s all over, I can just chill out without needin’ to look over my shoulder.” She undid her ponytail and waved her lengthy mane of hair around before leaning back on her hands. Gohan quickly looked away, his entire face flushing red as his chest tightened in ways he couldn’t explain. The sight of Arepa with her hair down overwhelmed him.

To his chagrin, Arepa noticed his nervous change in demeanor and laughed. “You’re friggin’ weird, Gohan.”

“What are you talking about?” Gohan asked, glaring.

“It’s okay,” she said, laughing. “We’re a coupla teenagers, here. I get it.”

Embarrassed, Gohan exhaled through his nose and stared at the flames. He couldn’t help his attraction to Arepa, but sought to stifle it as much as he could. In the life he lived, he couldn’t allow any distractions from his goal.

“Can’t say I ain’t the same way around you sometimes.”

Gohan whipped his head to Arepa with wide eyes. She laughed at his befuddlement. “I mean, cripes, Gohan, have you seen your hair?! That shit is straight out of a majestic painting, man.”

Like he found himself doing frequently around her, Gohan scratched his “majestic” hair, unable to process the feelings she brought him. Deciding it was best to just speak instead of bottling things up, he looked up and tried not to shrink from her smile. “Um, I guess, we both have that in common…”

When she snorted out a laugh, Gohan cringed and cursed to himself; that was why he kept quiet in the first damn place. 

“I’ll take the compliment,” she said. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching Narimara’s remains darken above the fire. Deeming him sufficiently cooked, Gohan blew away the flame, yanked off a piece of his leg and opened his mouth to chew, only to be interrupted.

“Sheesh, Gohan, ya just gonna eat it like that?” Arepa asked. “Throw some seasonin’ on there!”

Arepa jumped away and gathered a branch of orange leaves from the trees Gohan had chopped down. When she returned, she shredded the leaves up, burned them and sprinkled them atop the roasted leg. 

“Try it now.”

When Gohan took a bite, the spicy kick immediately enticed his tastebuds. He devoured the leg that was larger than his own body in only a few seconds.

“See what I mean? It ain’t nothin’ without some spice.”

“You sound like my mother.” Gohan groaned, realizing he couldn’t hide the sadness in his voice when he said it. Some days, he was surprised he even remembered what she looked like.

“She musta cooked a helluva meal then,” she said, remorse evident in her as well. She looked up at the sky and sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, this job is thrillin’ and all...but I’d kill to just be normal again. How ‘bout you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gohan replied, robotically. “You don’t have to like it” was his mantra, after all.

“Bullshit, it doesn’t,” Arepa said, startling Gohan. “Vegeta ‘n those guys are nasty, but you’re different.”

Gohan closed his eyes. It seemed like everybody had made that observation lately.

“You’re... sweeter ,” she said with affection sparkling her eyes. “A total mama’s boy.”

The mood took a harsh turn when Gohan whipped his eyes open and glared at her. Whatever sweetness she saw in him disappeared, leaving only the darkness that was capable of laying waste to civilizations. 

“S-Sorry,” she said, grabbing a chunk of Narimara to distract herself.

A few painful moments of silence later, Gohan sighed. 

“My mom wanted me to be a scholar.”

Arepa blinked, putting the leg down; it had almost come out involuntarily. 

“She kept me away from fighting, said that wouldn’t get me anywhere in life. I kept my nose in the books to keep her happy. My dad didn’t like it, ‘cause he was all about fighting. Not like we are, though.” Gohan smiled weakly, remembering all of those rides on the flying nimbus. “I heard he was a hero back then. Didn’t even know he was a Saiyan...until that day…”

He hung his head in his right hand, realizing he was dwelling too much on the past.

“Well no wonder you’re so good with gadgets,” Arepa said, trying to ease his mood. “We need more nerd fighters.”

“I’d probably be in school right about now,” he said with a bitter snort. “Mashing at a calculator...”

“...Tryin’ to keep the girls off of you.”

With a perplexed eyebrow raised, Gohan looked back at Arepa. She stared at him with a flirtatious smile, and he stared back. They stayed that way, awkward tension filling the cold air as Gohan tried decoding her increasingly puzzling behavior towards him.

"What was your home planet like?"

Arepa looked up at Gohan quizzically. In search of a quick way to break the uncomfortable staring contest, he'd blurted it out. Nonetheless, Arepa shrugged and looked down at the leg she'd been biting.

"Just...a planet, I guess. Panera, it was called." She sighed, stroking her chin as her eyes drifted. "I don't really remember much about it, to be honest. Can't miss what ya don't know, right?"

Gohan looked up at the sky, his eyes focused on the stars. He wished he could say the same.

Noticing the wistful look in Gohan's eyes, Arepa took another bite out of the leg. “I noticed you got a lil’ weird when this guy was callin’ you out before.” When she saw Gohan tense up, she waved her arms at him. “You don’t gotta answer if ya don’t wanna.”

Gohan looked back at her, mystified more at himself for being so guarded around her. He’d picked her for a reason - it wasn’t his increasing attraction to her, but his trust. The Saiyans may have been reliable, but she was the only person that accepted every part of him.

“It’s...fine…” he said. “It’s just...you know what’s the endgame in all of this, right?”

“You guys wanna kill Frieza?” Gohan blinked in shock. “Well I mean, duh. I don’t know if you noticed, but Vegeta is an angry bastard. When our crew was still workin’ with y’all, I could practically see Vegeta tryin’ to murder that guy with his eyes. All of four of ya, really. Cui and everybody else around here are just scared of him, but y’all don’t give a shit.”

Gohan snickered, realizing how poorly they disguised their hatred. “I just wonder...what am I doing, really? Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz don’t have any problem with this job, they just hate doing it for Frieza since he’s an asshole who looks down on them for being Saiyans.”

He looked down at his hands. They were clear, but he could see eight years worth of blood from countless races splattered across them. “I just deal with it until I can finally knock Frieza off. But I’m no better than anybody. To the universe, I’m just another one of Frieza’s scum. I could never show my face back home again.”

Arepa opened her mouth to speak, but Gohan kept going. “And I know, as long as my father’s a Saiyan, Frieza would be inevitable and I’m way more prepared thanks to them. But I...I hate this. All of it. I’m just some fucking attack dog!” He punched the ground as fuming tears welled up in his eyes. Though he didn’t notice, Arepa slid closer to him. “It’s the only thing Frieza’s ever been right about.” 

Gohan reached out and ripped Narimara’s roasted arm out of its socket. “But he’s wrong about everything else - he thinks he’s played me against the Saiyans and made me his attack dog instead.” He squeezed the arm until it snapped in half, bone marrow spilling onto his fingers. “But I will defeat him, and I’ll do it for myself !”

Noticing how intensely he was shuddering, Arepa placed her hand on Gohan’s shoulder. Genuine surprise filled him at the gesture, though the warmth of her palm calmed him down.

“I shouldn’t have told you all this,” Gohan grumbled. “I shouldn’t have had you join me. You’re in the middle of it all now, too.”

Arepa lifted her hand and brushed it against one of the many bangs covering his face. “What if I want to be?”

Gohan’s heart skipped a beat. Nervously, he backed away as his eyes fluttered. Arepa kept her hand on his hair, brushing the spikes. 

“When you’re ready to fight him - say the word, and I’ll be there.”

The intense conviction in her gaze made Gohan buckle. Her eyes told no lies; for once, she was dead serious. Only then had it dawned on him how much she actually cared, going all the way back to the day she saw him suspended from a ceiling on Kabnet’s base. 

Arepa’s fingers gently trailed to the scar across Gohan’s left eye. Her thumb bristled against the tissue; it didn’t feel too bad, actually.

“Then we can be normal again…” Her voice was nearly a whisper as she ran her fingers along the scar, Gohan even blinking to make it easier. “And do normal stuff…” 

Her thumb ran circles against Gohan’s cheeks. Given all the physical punishment he’d endured, Gohan hated when anything touched his face - but this felt different; pleasant, even. Before he could process what was happening, Arepa’s face leaned closer to his, her lips hanging open. The half-Saiyan didn’t know what to do, focusing on her fluttering eyes and letting her pull his head closer to her’s. They mesmerized him, those ice-cold blue orbs…

...That began to chip and crack.

Panicked, he backed away with the speed of a hare. Arepa nearly fell on her face with her lips puckered. She picked herself back up with a pout, huffing and puffing as she folded her arms.

“God dammit , Gohan, seriously?!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Everything you care about crumbles…”

That dream that still haunted Gohan even eight years later, one he’d done a poor job of heeding. A kiss would have signified an even stronger bond for Frieza to twist.

“Well okay then, you’re still Mr. Shy Guy, I guess,” Arepa said with childish disappointment. Nonetheless, she reached her hand up to Gohan’s head. “But the hair’s still mine.” Against his better judgement, Gohan allowed Arepa run her hands through his hair; after two weeks of punches, he welcomed a gentler touch. Soon, he closed his eyes.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, staring at the sky. Arepa watched the stars with her own home world filling her thoughts. What felt like a rock hit her right shoulder; the bump belonged to Gohan’s snoring head. She smiled; when he slept, all of the burdens he carried were nowhere to be found.

Taking her chances, she planted a kiss on his forehead.

Chapter Text

“You...you people won’t be terrorizing the universe forever...I-I guarantee it!”

The bald, grey-skinned man, wearing a white armor plate with a lightning bolt insignia above a black bodysuit, lay battered and broken on the ground, glaring ferociously through his one open eye. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, on the worse end of an explosive battle. Unfortunately for him, the equally ravaged but still upright, flame-haired warrior didn’t believe in mercy. He stood above him, hand raised with a sadistic smirk on his face.

“Well even if that day comes, you won’t be alive to see it.”

An energy blast escaped his hand, reducing the man to a speck of dust.

With the threat gone, Vegeta allowed himself to collapse on one knee and suck enough air for an entire population’s worth of people. He knew the planet Kiyomi had sent him to was a strong one, but he hadn’t expected a Galactic Patrolman to show up. The ensuing battle had been brutal, going on for nearly a day until Vegeta came out on top. His new ability to control his power level, or Ki, had come in handy, leaving him with the reserve power he needed to come out on top.

A technique he owed to Gohan, he begrudgingly admitted.

But all of that was irrelevant. He got the fight he had been starved of for years and loved every minute of it. Raditz and Nappa, who were worse for wear themselves, limped over to him with satisfied grins.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, Vegeta!” Nappa said. “Been too long since we’ve seen you at it!”

Though Raditz had been thrilled about the end result of their unauthorized purge, he was not without worry. “The fact that he was a Galactic Patrol dork could be a problem for us, though.”

“No matter,” Vegeta replied through a cough. “They probably let all their food go bad, the way they react to the mere mention of Frieza’s name. They’ll try to catch us on another planet but they won’t even broach the atmosphere of any world Frieza occupies. It won’t creep up on us.”

“Yeah, Vegeta’s right,” Nappa said. “Now let’s just hurry the hell up and get out of here. No time to waste.”

Vegeta nodded in agreement and led the flight to their space pods. They stopped once they reached the craters their pods left and floated above them. “You still have those gold coins, right Nappa?” he asked.

“Yup, dropped, ‘em off in a bag in my pod while the madness was still going on.”

“Good. We’re going to Planet Frieza #78 to heal,” Vegeta said.

“Ah, good plan,” Raditz observed.

Vegeta nodded before floating down to his space pod and sitting inside. After inputting a special instruction, he sat back and let the pod fly to the edge of the planet’s atmosphere before it came to a sudden stop. He opened the space pods’ door and stood up, standing on top of it as he looked down at the enormous planet down below. In his estimation, he had just enough reserve power to destroy the planet’s core and produce a delayed explosion.

He focused a chaotic amount of Ki that radiated around his palm. While it was always a rush knowing he had the power to destroy a planet, he could only think about the day he saw Frieza obliterate one with just his fingertip; meanwhile, Vegeta had to unleash all his power to pull it off.

Nonetheless, he fired an enormous Ki blast down below and sat back down in the pod, closing the door and flying off before it even detonated on the surface. Destroying the planet was the best way to ensure it would never get on Frieza’s radar in case of an oversight from Kiyomi. Nobody would suspect anything, anyway - planets were destroyed incidentally all the time. There was a God who literally had it in his job description (though he only showed his face every few decades). 

And even his mighty Saiyan race fell to a mere comet.

But that was ancient history. Content with a job well done, Vegeta activated the gas to give himself a much-needed sleep. One interstellar flight later, they arrived on the recovery planet. 

When Vegeta got out of his pod and watched the large building before him, he grunted with annoyance. He hadn’t been on the planet since after Planet Zuna eight years prior, the ordeal that marked the turning point in Gohan’s journey with them. It was another reminder of what he deemed a betrayal.

As soon as Vegeta stepped inside the building, he clicked his scouter and scrolled to a few inputs to jam the signals of all of the nearby scouters. Kiyomi had enhanced his chip with extra range when necessary, which came in handy for situations just like this.

The Saiyans arrived at a medical room with a few healing tanks lined up. A small, slug-like scientist with brown skin and a robe had been attending the room; he blinked in surprise at the Saiyans.

Nappa tossed a lumpy, black bag at the scientist that was just barely caught.

“Tell anybody you saw us here, and I’ll make sure you know what your entrails look like before I kill you” Vegeta said, his eyes so fierce with warning that the meek scientist needed to back away. “If that’s not reason enough to shut up, I assume the gold in that bag will also ensure your trust?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

With an insincere smile, Vegeta nodded. “Much obliged.”

After healing up following the return from their assigned mission, Gohan and Arepa sat across from each other in the mess hall, eating the unappetizing steak and vegetables from their trays. They’d spent the remaining few days of their assignment training, Gohan showing Arepa how to control her Ki. They hadn’t said much about their almost-kiss, focusing only on power - as it should have been, Gohan concluded. There was one moment, however, that had been bothering him...

Gohan walked back to the camp he and Arepa had set up, a tiger the size of an entire boat bearing down on his shoulders. Unlike the other felines and canines on the planet, it was a wild animal, devoid of the anthropomorphism of the opponents he had taken down. Thanks to the pressure it brought to his body, Gohan could only walk gingerly, his head facing down and forcing him only to look at the ground below him. But while he couldn't see ahead, he could hear something vividly the caught his ears.

If there was any sound Gohan had become acquainted with over the years, it was the sound of whimpers. Though he had largely buried his emotions, they occasionally came out in his most private moments. But there was only one other person on the planet with him, and that person never showed any emotion other than excitement.

Gohan moved a few paces diagonally, straightening his posture and causing the tiger to slump to the ground. What he saw was what he didn't think he would ever see. Arepa sat on a log, her arms resting on her knees, quivering with sobs. With his vision, he could see her face clearly - a stream of tears was spilling from her eyes, running down a face twisted in agony. In all the battles he had fought alongside her, he had never seen her in so much pain. 

"Arepa...?" he asked, his own voice shuddering with concern.

Upon hearing him, Arepa lifted her head and surprise and rattled it around a few times, blushing with embarrassment as she wiped her eyes as nonchalantly as she could.

"Sheesh, Gohan!" she yelled, whatever grief she had been expressing a distant memory. "You're like one o' these fuckin' foxes around here!"

There was something different in her voice, and even just her expression. Her default feisty attitude didn't feel as natural as usual.

"Were you crying, just now?"

Arepa jerked her head back, scoffing with an almost cartoonish smirk of dismissal. "Ya bump ya head tryin' to catch that tiger or somethin'? Like you'd ever see me doin' that."

Of course, she said that while her eyes were still moist. Perhaps noticing as much herself, she whipped her head away to put herself out of view. Gohan stepped a few paces forward, breathing deep breaths.

"It's alright..." Gohan reassured. "I was honest with you, so you can be with-"

"Well, there's nothing for me to be fucking honest about, okay?!" Arepa screamed, snapping her head back towards Gohan and revealing a crimson-tinted glare of an expression. "Just push the damn tiger over so we can eat."

Gohan sighed. With how unusually clear her diction had been for that moment, the issue wasn't up for debate. And Gohan had expressed that same type of hostility plenty enough himself to know it was best to simply fall back. He turned around and lifted the tiger back up whilst dropping the issue.

As Gohan gnawed at his drab food, he looked up at Arepa. She ate with as much vigor as ever, leaving Gohan to wonder what was going on in her head. Despite his best efforts, his emotions were always in plain sight. He thought that was the case with Arepa, but evidently not as much as he thought. But he didn't want to set her off again.

After clearing his tray, he decided to get up and take a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m gonna take a smoke.”

As he walked away, the object of his perpetual annoyance came into his view - the green skin and spiky, purple hair of Gomayn. The typically smug boy was none too happy to see Gohan, and the feeling was certainly mutual. Gohan turned around when he brushed past him. When Gomayn stopped at his table where Arepa sat, his suspicions were confirmed.

“So that’s it, huh?” Gomayn seethed. Arepa hardly even looked up to acknowledge him. “ I’m the one who gives you gifts but you partner up with that ass-scratching dolt? I thought you had a brain.”

“Nobody told you to get me shit,” Arepa said, rolling her eyes as she stood up. “I don’t need to explain anything to you.” 

She turned around to find a place where she could toss her tray, but Gomayn squeezed her by her ponytail. The tray fell from her hands while Gohan growled and slid back to rev himself for an attack. He didn’t get a chance to make his move, however - Arepa slammed her elbow into Gomayn’s face, getting his hand off of her hair, his back against the wall a few feet away, and his ass on the floor.

Defiantly whipping her hair while dozens of stunned soldiers gawked at her, Arepa strutted to Gomayn and placed her boot on his neck. “Touch me again, and I promise you the only way I won’t kill you,” she pointed her finger at Gohan, “Is if he beats me to it.”

A shiver ran down Gohan’s spine as she dug her foot deeper to punctuate her threat. He didn’t think it was possible for him to be more attracted to her than he was at that moment; Saiyan blood, probably. More than that, however, it was respect. She marched away from him and looked at Gohan with a scowl.

“Let’s train.”

“Uh, sure,” Gohan replied. Wasn’t he the one who gave orders? Nonetheless, he followed her to a room. 

After they shut the doors, Gohan stood in the center of the room with his arms folded. Arepa paced back and forth like a lunatic. 

“ Shit , I wish I coulda killed that douche right then and there,” she yelled, mashing her fists together.

“Well, then picture me as him,” Gohan offered, a coy smile on his face. Arepa stopped and stared at him, squinting as if that were exactly what she was trying to do. She snapped out of her furious haze to laugh uproariously.

“Yeah sorry, Gohan, but it’s hard to picture you like that little prick.”

Gohan ran his hands through his hair, and with the aid of spit, raised the top end until it stood up like Gomayn’s, even leaving a single bang in front of his face. He pointed his thumb at his chest.

“This help?”

Arepa squared her shoulders and smirked. “Actually, now that you’re styled up like that, I’ve finally realized you two look a lot alike.”

Gohan’s expression turned 180 degrees. “Take that back.”

“Too late...and it’s working.”

Arepa dove at Gohan, throwing as many punches as she possibly could in the span of a few seconds. None of them connected. Luckily, the gusts of air from her thrusts brought Gohan’s hair back to it’s normal style so he didn’t have to entertain the idea of his and Gomayn’s resemblance any further. The fact that he thought more about that and not the assault being unleashed upon him spoke volumes about the ease with which he dodged her.

“You’re just swinging wildly,” Gohan chided, grabbing her hands to hold her in place. “Where’s your technique?!”

Arepa tried to shove her knee into Gohan’s chest, but he flung her into a wall before she could. While she hopped off the wall with her feet and dove back at him, Gohan simply moved away from the kick she swung.

“You have the spirit, but not the finesse,” Gohan said.

With a few frustrated heaves for air, Arepa shook her head. “Finesse is the last word I’d use for the Saiyans.”

“That applies to Nappa, maybe, but definitely not me or Vegeta,” Gohan said. “Raditz, too, but he’s irrelevant.”

Gohan moved a few steps closer to Arepa. “It’s the difference between your punches…”

Faster than her eyesight could process, Gohan viciously punched her in the jaw, knocking her into the wall.

“And that . Not a wasted movement to be found.”

Arepa spat out a wad of blood and rubbed her pulsing jaw, though she had a crooked grin on her lips. “Okie dokes, I see it a lil’ bit. Cool to have a real trainer vs. whatever the hell Cui would do.”

She crouched down, gathering herself. “So something like…”

With cat-like quickness, she phased in front of Gohan and connected a punch to his jaw, whipping his head back.

“That?” Her voice boomed with satisfaction.

Effortlessly, Gohan turned his head back around with a smirk on his face, a trickle of blood the only sign of pain. “You still need to put power into it.”

“Son of a bitch…” Arepa said, grinding her teeth.

About a half-hour later, Gohan and Arepa both sat against the wall in the training facility, sharing one of Gohan’s trusty cigs and blowing smoke. While Gohan was without a scratch, Arepa had a few bruises and cracks in her armor. 

“You weren’t lying when you said this shit calms you down,” Arepa said, passing it back to Gohan. “Ain’t even thinkin’ ‘bout that idiot no more.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Gohan asked, taking a drag. “I know he’s not very strong, so what the hell is he even doing around Frieza’s army?”

“You don’t know?”

Gohan squinted his eyes at Arepa, confused. “What?”

“Frieza has him as a mole in the Galactic Patrol,” Arepa explained. “Part-time intern or some shit. Gets some extra eyes on the useful planets lyin’ around, plus he steals a buncha the contraband they pick up and gets it here. Gets ‘em off the backs of our redshirts, too.”

“No wonder he’s such a nosy little dork, then.”

“And a snitch.”

Gohan laughed, having experienced that firsthand. As he sat in a brief moment of peace, he glanced at Arepa as she took the cig from his hands again.

"Is there anything you want to talk about, maybe?" Gohan gingerly asked, harkening back to the incident on their mission.

Arepa blew a stream of smoke, as her relaxed expression stiffened. She passed the cig back to Gohan with a rigid frown. "Nope."

"You don't even know what I meant," he whined while snatching it back.

"Yeah, well you suck at hidin' your intentions."

You're clearly better at it than I am, Gohan wisely kept to himself.

Arepa stood up, seemingly about to storm out. Gohan prepared to lift his body up, but noticed she stopped and bent down to retrieve something instead. His mind conjured her tearful expression back up; but if she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to think about it. So he forced his brain to focus on the only thing that mattered within these walls - power. Specifically, hers, and how much it could grow under his training. She wasn’t a Saiyan, so she couldn’t make the huge gains from recovery that the Saiyans were prone to, but keeping up with one and taking a few lumps from him was bound to work wonders.

“Hey, check this out.”

Gohan looked up, and his eyebrows quizzically folded when saw how Arepa styled her hair. Evidently finding another string lying around, Arepa opted for the double ponytail look, tying her hair up on her left and right sides. He believed they called them “pigtails” back on Earth.

“Pretty cute, eh?” she asked with a goofy smile.

“You look stupid,” Gohan snickered. 

Rolling her eyes, Arepa undid her hair and went back to the regular ponytail, tossing the other string back down. “Well, whatever. I bet it was cute.”

Of course, Gohan lied. If anything, he might have liked that style on her even more than anything else. But that wasn’t important, at the end of the day. He stood up and tossed his cig to the ground, stomping on it a few times to put it out. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she had made that silly diversion intentionally. Preferring not to harp on it, he took one last puff of smoke, and led the way out of the training room.

“I’m gonna read for a little bit,” he said in the hallway. “Try not to kill Gomayn; that’ll be my job.”

“Cool. Let’s kiss on it.”

He could overhear her laughter as he paced away with a beet-red face. Eager to get his mind elsewhere, Gohan slid the library doors open and searched through the shelves for a book on nanotechnology, wondering if there were any more ways to manipulate his scouter. When he reached a specific section he’d been seeking, a familiar face was standing there.

“Hey,” Kiyomi said, grabbing a book.

Gohan nodded, peering over to see what she was reading until he noticed a bruise on her right cheek. “What happened there? Chip pop out at you or something?”

Realizing his eyes were tracking to the bruise, Kiyomi rubbed it in and turned away, shaking her head. “No,” she began, until she stopped herself. “It’s nothing.”

Gohan thought to set it aside, until he noticed the growing tension in her features and how quickly she began to move away.

“Who did it?” Gohan asked, his voice darkening.

“It was nobody, just-”

“Zarbon?”

“Yeah, sure.”

There wasn’t any assurance in the way she spoke, leading Gohan to suspect it wasn’t Zarbon. Though it was a galaxy-long shot, Gohan decided to throw out a possible answer, the one most likely to make her act so suspiciously.

“ Vegeta? ”

She hesitated, caught by surprise. That was all the answer Gohan needed. He walked briskly away from the facility, seeking out Vegeta’s Ki. 

Kiyomi started to chase after him, but realized she was hopeless to either change his mind or stop him. Really, she just wanted to talk to him about his decision.

Gohan could pinpoint Vegeta’s Ki, but it was faint. It could have meant he was in recovery, but he honestly didn’t care. He’d wait for him to get out if that were the case. His young emotions were hot and demanded addressing. 

After a few moments of marching, he found Vegeta alone in the Saiyans’ sleeping quarters. He was perfectly fine, and in the middle of fitting his gloves on when Gohan marched in.

“Vegeta!”

“The hell do you want from me, half-breed?” Vegeta’s already-sour face immediately intensified upon hearing Gohan’s voice.

Attempting to rein in his temper, Gohan inhaled and exhaled. “Look - I get why you’re pissed off at me. I probably deserve it - ”

“Hn.”

“But that’s no reason to start taking it out on Kiyomi-”

Vegeta laughed with a mentor’s shame to interrupt Gohan, shaking his head. “Look at you, boy. You waste so much energy caring about people. How many times did I tell you where that would get you? How many times have you learned where that would get you?”

Gohan looked away. It didn’t matter if he was no longer under Vegeta’s wing. He always felt like his rook.

“First Kiyomi because she’s nice to you, now you’re dragging around that loudmouth because she makes you laugh and stain your trousers. I thought you were finally figuring things out, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Your human half is poison.”

In no mood for a scolding he was no longer under any obligation to heed, Gohan began to turn away.

“And for your information, I didn’t attack her,” Vegeta said. Gohan stopped and turned back around. Mischief overtook Vegeta’s countenance. “I may have handled her a little roughly and thrown in some threats, yes, but I didn’t hit her.”

“What?!” Gohan asked with a repulsed scowl.

Laughing with malice, Vegeta folded his arms. “Not that , you hormonal fool.” Though Vegeta had phrased it that way deliberately to mess with his mind. “I’m forging my own path to getting stronger and needed her to do her part in aiding that. In my request I may have shoved her a little harshly. Don’t blame me for her fragile skin.”

His focus skipping over those last sentences, Gohan puzzlingly raised his eyebrow. “You don’t mean what I think you do, Vegeta...” 

The Prince dismissively grunted. Gohan stomped his foot out of frustration.

“Are you trying to get us all killed?! I TOLD you how risky that was and you’re still doing it?!”

“A true, full-blooded Saiyan fears nothing,” Vegeta sneered. “Unlike you, I’m actually taking a chance and doing things my way instead of letting Frieza drag me around on a leash.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who’s done nothing but be Frieza’s slave his entire life.” 

Vegeta snapped, overcome with righteous fury as he curled his fist back with violent intent. “You dare speak that way to your Prince, boy?”

Gohan stepped forward with fire in his black eyes, but not to fight. “Just admit it. I’m playing the same game you are but making sure I actually see the end of it. If you want to get yourself killed, find somebody else to help you.”

Still incensed, but humored, Vegeta relaxed his fist and goadingly snorted. “I don’t know what it is with your little mother complex, but it’s going to get you killed long before death catches up to me.”

It took all of Gohan’s discipline to stay firm. He couldn’t believe Vegeta would push that button even after knowing where that got him last time. Then again...it was the boldness he had aspired to for years.

“ Don’t do this.”

“And that’s the biggest farce of them all,” Vegeta said with a dark chuckle. “I could be worse to you than Frieza and you’d probably cry at the thought of killing me. You know damn well who I am.”

Gohan broke a sweat. Vegeta was right. It pained him to admit it, but he was still right. Even after being forced away from his home and thrown into the fire of unimaginable trauma to fight Vegeta’s battle, he felt loyal to him.

With a psychosis that could put even Frieza’s to shame, Vegeta grinned at Gohan with bared teeth and pierced, nay stabbed his obsidian eyes into him.

“What’s stopping me from going to Earth and paying your parents a visit now, huh?” All of the color left Gohan’s face. “You wouldn’t still hesitate to kill me if your home was in danger, would you?”

Gohan knew what Vegeta was doing. The Prince was just as frustrated over their situation as he was. He was sinking as low as possible to get under his skin.

But that was okay, because Gohan could, too. After all, he learned from the best.

“At least I have a fucking home.”

He was crashing out the doorway and through the hallway’s wall in an instant, thanks to a punch that nearly knocked out a tooth courtesy of Vegeta’s fist. And though he’d expected it, Gohan was nonetheless enraged when he got back up and chased after Vegeta. The Prince had been in pursuit himself, but couldn’t move out of the way fast enough to dodge the punch that sent him into a doorway and reduced it to a pile of debris. 

Every warrior present stumbled away from their duties to rubberneck as the two explosively powerful Saiyans went after each with blistering flurries of strikes all over the base, wrecking any structure that came their way. Every punch, every kick, every swipe was delivered with the express intent to kill the other; collective sense had been replaced with Saiyan instincts.

Arepa was one of the many in the crowd watching, but in contrast to the boisterous, bloodthirsty cheers was her horrified gasp. “Gohan, what the hell are you doing?!”

Kiyomi rushed in next to her. “Son of a bitch, I didn’t think it would come to this!”

Dozens of feet away, Nappa and Raditz shared their bewilderment. The attacks became increasingly vicious. Gohan intended to finish Vegeta off with a violent kick, but the more experienced fighter moved out the way and blasted him through the building’s roof in one seamless motion. He flew through the hole after him, and much like he’d done during their fateful spar, grabbed the boy by his shaggy mane.

“What are you gonna do now, mongrel?!”

With every bit of the edge he’d lamented losing back then, Vegeta savagely laid into Gohan with punches that spilled blood and cracked bones with every landing. Gohan tried to claw Vegeta’s hands off of him but could do nothing; his nose was spilling blood at the speed of a busted pipe, hampering his breathing. At one point, Vegeta punched Gohan’s scouter, spilling glass into his eye on top of that. As if he weren’t in enough agony, Vegeta slammed his skull into the sharpest point of his knee and kept on punching, until...

“ENOUGH!”

That shrill, raspy siren of a screech was at the same frequency of a record-scratch, frosting the spines of every single soldier in the base - the fuming Vegeta included. He let go of Gohan like he was doused in gasoline, short-of-breath at the mere sound of that voice. Gohan only kept himself in the sky from the punch-drunk idea that falling down may have incited the voice further.

Frieza wasn’t sitting in his chair. He was floating above the wreckage of Gohan and Vegeta’s squabble, his fists quivering with a furor that was restrained by the tightest of leashes. The red in his eyes was almost volcanic, melting even Vegeta’s resolve.

“You pebble-brained simian troglodytes dare ravage my building?!”

Even through literal glassy eyes, Gohan could see that look on Frieza’s face as clearly as any macabre painting. Though it had been years since the last time he’d been graced by its presence, it felt like just a day ago. Spit flung from the lizard’s mouth as he frantically surveyed the damage done to his precious base.

“Zarbon! Dodoria! Cuff these varmints up until I figure out an appropriate punishment,” Frieza ordered as he floated back inside, his head whipping back and forth between the debris and the two Saiyans responsible.

Knowing better than to resist, Gohan and Vegeta both floated down inside the base and stood silently in wait until Zarbon and Dodoria arrived with shackles. The very same Energy-Absorbing Cuffs Kabnet had used to subdue them - one of the many things they pilfered from his army after his defeat. Zarbon and Dodoria applied the shackles to them both and escorted them to separate rooms.

Gohan sat in the corner of the same room he and Arepa had just sat in moments earlier, picking shards of glass from his face. There was nothing more he wanted to do than run back over and tear into Vegeta. He was done trying to please him. Done with looking up to him.

“What the hell’s going on?” Kiyomi stood in the doorway, arms folded and a disappointment overwhelming her face.

“It’s...it’s nothing,” Gohan mumbled. “We got in a fight, that’s all.”

“I’m not just talking about the fight. What’s this about you leaving the Saiyans? Did Frieza make you do it?”

“No,” Gohan replied, avoiding her scolding face. “He gave me a choice, and I took it. This is the best way for me to get stronger.”

“You realize what’s going on, right?” Kiyomi said, harshly. “You know this fight is exactly what Frieza wants, right ?”

Sick of being treated like a naive child by Vegeta and now Kiyomi, Gohan sneered. “You don’t think I know that?! Of course I know Frieza’s trying to use me. Whether I’m answering Vegeta or answering to Frieza, nothing’s going to change.”

“If it was so easy for you to stay who you are, Frieza wouldn’t have given you the offer.”

“I won’t sellout to him.”

With a sigh, Kiyomi turned to the hallway. “That’s usually how it starts…”

As she walked away, Gohan slammed the back of his head against the wall with the intent to knock himself out. It didn’t work.

Zarbon and Dodoria joined Frieza in his throne room. It had been lightly damaged, but far better off than much of the base. The incensed lizard paced back and forth with frantic energy for a half-dozen minutes until he exhaled to compose himself.

“I say we do away with both of those idiots,” Dodoria said. “We have plenty of strong folks on other planets to bring around without those guys tearing the place up.”

Frieza raised a hand to silence Dodoria. “No, I’ve got it. I will punish Vegeta for this, and only Vegeta.”

“Sir, what…?” Zarbon asked, blinking quizzically.

The flames of his temper having subdued, Frieza smiled. “If they both are punished for brawling, they’d have a common grievance. Nothing breeds jealousy and resentment quite like unequal consequences, don’t you think?”

“But sir, don’t you think that will just lead to an even more destructive fight in the future?” Zarbon asked.

“They’ll fall in line, for now.” Frieza’s wicked smile spread further. “And if the dam breaks again, by that point I’d bet our half-breed project will be able to handle himself splendidly.”

Zarbon and Dodoria gasped with pleased realization, marveling at their lordship’s intelligence.

“Bring them both here.”

They nodded and walked into the hallway, Zarbon grimacing at the extent of the damage the two Saiyans dealt. The ceiling was decorated with holes spanning from the size of a small ball to a crater. Walls were broken and all sorts of fluids were flooding the floors as crews of redshirts scrambled to clean it up. Repairs were going to be extensive, possibly necessitating a temporary move. He opened the doors of one of the training facilities, where a seething Gohan had sat while rubbing his bloody nose.

“Get up, now .”

Gohan didn’t say a word, just doing as instructed. His ire was only focused on one person; for once, the aristocratic officer had nothing to do with it. 

“Now follow me.”

Zarbon led the way down to Frieza’s throne room. Gohan had experienced plenty of punishments over the years, but never had he dreaded one this much. Damaging the property that the eccentrically narcissistic Frieza held dearly? Regardless of the favorable position recently bestowed upon him, he suspected a grizzly penance.

Which was why, when Gohan stepped inside and stood next to Vegeta (who avoided looking at him), he was flabbergasted when Zarbon removed his cuffs. He turned to Vegeta, who remained shackled but glared at Dodoria with impatient expectation.

“Oh no, Vegeta, your cuffs stay on,” said the icy voice of Frieza across from them.

Both Saiyans’ jaws sank in alarm. They looked at each other and then back at Frieza, trying to figure out his angle. While Zarbon and Dodoria giggled like school children, Vegeta growled at Gohan and stepped to Frieza.

“What the hell’s the meaning of this?!”

With a finger he only faintly lifted from the hand perched on the edge of his floating chair, Frieza drilled a pink laser into Vegeta’s right knee, forcing him to kneel on the opposite leg while he excruciatingly mashed his teeth together. Gohan couldn’t help but watch, but he wanted to look away more than anything else.

“Come now, Vegeta, how long have I known you?” Frieza said with that casual drawl that infuriated both Saiyans. “You don’t think I know you would be the one to incite a fight if our even-keeled halfling here were involved?”

Knowing what really happened, Gohan shook his head. Sure, Vegeta had played his part in provoking it, but Gohan initiated everything right down to the cold-blooded insult. As he watched Vegeta struggle to remain on even one foot, he started putting the pieces together.

“L-Lord Frieza,” Gohan said, trying not to sound desperate. “ I started it.”

For several moments, the room fell silent. As Gohan looked straight ahead at Frieza, he missed Vegeta gawking at him with incredulity and shame. Frieza inquisitively stared at Gohan with narrowed eyes, sipping a wine glass from one hand and tapping his chair with the other. 

Finally, he breathed a theatrical sigh.

“Alas, still trying to protect your prince, young lad.” He clicked his teeth while shaking his head. “If only we had a mirror so you could see the extent to which he’s mauled your face.”

Doing his best impersonation of a petrified mother, Frieza clutched his chair and batted his whimpering eyes. “When I see that nose, swollen to the size of a hearty mushroom and an already-scarred eye just barely staying open, I weep. I truly do. How could I, with clear conscience, punish such a face?”

What the hell? Had Vegeta’s punches hurt Gohan worse than he thought? Was he just hallucinating all of this? A sadistic freak like Frieza had gladly kicked Gohan while he was down more times than he could count. Why was he extolling sympathy for him now?

And if it wasn’t all a hallucination, why the hell was he trying to change his mind?

“It’s okay, Gohan. I forgive you. ”

Gohan had to shut his eyes to avoid seeing Frieza’s smug face. His mind repeated a single word: resist . 

“It’s not your fault that this flame-haired blaggard manipulated you into blind loyalty, and when no longer able to boss you around violently lashes out and forces you to sink to his level.” Gohan clenched his teeth, shutting his eyes more fiercely. “As someone relentlessly bullied by his big brother during his youth, I understand. I, too, am a casualty of the vicious cycle of abuse!”

Gohan’s eyes whipped open with tenuously-shackled fury. The corrosive joy in Frieza’s voice as he belittled his - and Vegeta’s - suffering made Gohan want to lunge forward and attack. And judging from Frieza’s wicked smile, he knew it.

“Rise above it, young lad! You are no longer beholden to this man.” He momentously raised his arms into the air. “You are free , Gohan!”

Free.

The word nearly broke Gohan right then and there. He growled through his teeth, physically forcing himself to not scream his rejection of the word. Out of the corner of his eyes, he looked at Vegeta. Never had he seen such disgust and emotional pain in the bullheaded prince’s face. Had it not been for the Ki-absorbing cuffs, he might have done even more damage to the base.

Frieza’s eyes flickered as an idea sparked in his brain. “In fact, since you were the one to suffer from Vegeta’s treachery today, I’ll have you carry out his punishment.”

Gohan’s stomach collapsed.

“Frieza, I do-”

“I insist.” His smile, with his lips almost touching the bottom edges of his eyes, plainly denoted that Gohan didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Gohan’s entire body shook with dread as Frieza spun his chair around. “Follow me, boys.”

He led them to the backroom. Though Vegeta could walk for his damn self, Dodoria grabbed his arm and shoved him along. While they walked, Gohan stood exactly where he was, his brain stuck in a torrent of torment. Kiyomi questioned his ability to stay on the right side - and both Vegeta and Frieza were testing that notion.

But standing there would accomplish nothing, and so he swallowed heavily and followed them into the chamber.

The hook on the ceiling. The mantle of whips on the wall. It was the same damn room where his personal motivation finally molded itself. He could still smell the blood from that day eight years prior, and some of the other days he ended up back in there from petty slights.

It took all of Gohan’s effort not to look away when Dodoria slid off Vegeta’s armor and ripped up the top half of his suit. Dodoria grabbed him by his wrist, roughly hauled him up, and fastened his shackles against the hook to suspend him from the ceiling. That was when Gohan had to look away - suddenly he felt like an anvil had been placed on his chest. He panted harder than he had during any of the battles throughout his short life. Even standing still drained his energy.

When he chanced another glance at Vegeta hanging helplessly against the chains, as he had been long before, he vomited.

“Oh my!” Frieza yelped. “You can’t even contain your excitement, can you?! Dodoria, if you please?”

While Dodoria crudely spat a ball of saliva on the floor and spread it against the puddle of bile, the pallid Gohan rested his hands against his knees and dry heaved. Nausea had overcome him, robbing him of his ability to stand straight.

“Focus, my young lad,” Frieza advised. “Here, I’ll help.”

Frieza floated to the mantle and grabbed a whip. He smacked it against his own hand and cackled with glee when it sparked and gave him a jolt. He floated to Gohan and practically forced the handle into his palm.

“Make him suffer, boy.”

Gohan forced his head to Vegeta, memories flooding him. How the tables had turned - the man hanging across from him had forced him in the same position against Mentos on the fateful day that killed his innocence. 

Or when Salza made him fight Arepa, and Vegeta ordered him to suffer her painfully. 

Only he wasn’t whimpering like Mentos, or sulking like Arepa. Even under duress, Vegeta’s eyes were defiant, practically daring Gohan to unleash that whip on him. Without a doubt, Vegeta only saw it as fuel. He had the type of steadfast will Gohan could never hope to attain.

When Gohan lifted his hand, it immediately sagged. His breathing grew even more labored. His mouth elicited incoherent stammers. Never in his life had lifting his arm been more difficult. Memories assaulted him with the image of his four-year old self in that position. The aftermath, when he was stuck in his own filth for three days. How Vegeta had actually taken it upon himself to pull him out of the void.

More quivering, more heaving. It was hard to even see, really.

“We’re waiting, Gohan.”

Who said that? Frieza? Or was the voice closer to Zarbon’s? He could hardly hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat and gasps for air. 

When a single tear welled up in his eyes, it opened up the floodgates. Trying to gather himself and appear strong, Gohan finally thrust his arm to strike; only he just limply jutted it out and crumbled onto his knees. He bent down and pressed his hands against the gravelly floor, miserably sobbing like he had on the night it all began. The shel with which he’d protected himself had been whipped to pieces.

While Frieza, Zarbon, and Dodoria laughed in the background, something in Vegeta broke. As powerful as both his physical ability and his mental resolve was, keeping his eyes on the crying half-Saiyan child was among the toughest tasks of his life. Gohan was banging his fists against the ground as if he were cursing his own helplessness, much like he himself had done for countless nights at that same age.

He looked back at Frieza, who purported himself as a mentor but was all too happy to laugh at Gohan’s despair. That scourge wasn’t going to rest until Gohan was every bit the miserable bastard that Vegeta was.

When Gohan’s whimpers became too much for Vegeta to take, he released a growl of frustration and anguish.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?!”

The unrecognizable pain in Vegeta’s voice stunned everyone in the room, even putting a stop to Gohan’s tailspin. He gave the shackle-bound Vegeta his full attention.

“Raditz, Nappa, myself...we’re the ones who put you up to this shit. We are to blame for all of your suffering. What the fuck does it matter to you what happens to me?!”

Gohan stood there on his knees, stunned. Even Frieza appeared lost for words.

“Half the shit you’re probably crying about are things we did. I’m no better than those three jackasses back there.”

While Dodoria angrily advanced towards Vegeta, Zarbon simply laughed and took it in stride. Frieza on the other hand, kept his eyes studiously narrowed.

Vegeta sucked his teeth in revulsion. “Are you scared? Is that it? Is that what your real problem is?” Gohan stood back up, wiping off his damp eyes as he sought to contest Vegeta’s assessment. But he couldn’t speak.

“All this time I thought it was your stupid little attachments, but those are the only things that make you act like a real Saiyan. You’ve been all too willing to hit me like an enemy when I bring up your precious mother.”

When he saw Gohan’s fists tighten up, he laughed at seeing his point proven. “You’re scared of me. You’re scared of them. And you’re scared of your own goddamn self. You have no pride whatsoever.”

Vegeta could tell from Frieza’s urgent expression that he wanted to put a stop to all of this, so he smirked and got to the point.

“I did a helluva number on your face back there. I can promise you - you’ll never have a better chance at getting your payback.” Vegeta’s dark eyes were filled with the fire that often inspired Gohan to act bolder than he really was. “You’re sitting on a power I can’t even comprehend and you let me beat you around like a punching bag.”

With his nose still swelling, and some of the glass shards of the scouter Vegeta smashed still bothering his eyesight, Gohan stewed with a quiet anger. 

“I’ll say nothing about your mother. I’ll say nothing about your father. I won’t even say anything about the loud female.” The Prince’s face took a provocative, performative twist. “This is only about you, the spineless little crybaby that you are.”

With an animalistic growl, Gohan swung his arm back with the intent to unleash hell - but the amused Vegeta had one last thing to say.

“The whip?! That’s the coward’s tool.”

“You don’t get to decide how you’re punished, fool!” Frieza snapped. His patience had reached the very edge of its limits.

Vegeta snickered. “The boy’s fists will dish out more damage than your little sex toy could ever.” He ignored Frieza’s growl and looked back at Gohan. “Am I wrong?”

Gohan obliged, dropping the whip. He cocked back his fist, centering his eyes on his target. With the wicked, goading smile Vegeta used to taunt him, he gave Gohan no ability to see him as anything other than the heartless warrior that turned him into a killing machine at the cost of his mental health. 

And that made it easier for him to punch Vegeta squarely in his nose and crack it.

Then again, after snorting out some blood, Vegeta laughed and lifted his head right back up.

“C’mon now. I trained you. There’s more in you than that , half-breed. You had more gusto for that brat from Trident.”

Point made. With all the raw physical power he was capable of, Gohan smashed his fist into Vegeta’s eye, and he didn’t stop there. He punched him again. And again. And again. Not until he’d drawn as much blood as Vegeta got from him during their scuffle did he let up. And even then, he started attacking his body, unleashing all of the years of pent-up frustration on the Prince in the only way a Saiyan could. Strike after strike after strike rocked Vegeta’s ribs and abdomen until even the shackles loosened.

“Enough, boy!”

Gohan stopped, and looked at the source of the voice. Frieza had a twinge of satisfaction in his expression, but didn’t want to see the end of the flame-haired Saiyan who had a special place in the empty void of blackness that swirled where a normal man’s heart would.

Gohan cringed at the quivering, dangling hunk of flesh that used to be Vegeta...until, with his keen eyesight, he saw a hint of that same old smirk curl onto his bloody lips.

“I didn’t care for Vegeta’s dramatics, but it’s clear that you’re coming along nicely,” Frieza said, sipping from his wine yet again. “Now that your ‘prince’ is no longer a threat to you, I expect you to behave yourself from here on out.”

“Kid did somethin’ useful for once,” Dodoria snickered.

Zarbon looked back at Vegeta and cackled. “Personally, I wish you would’ve just let him finish the bastard off.”

No . Gohan was never going to be the guy to receive and accept glowing praises from the bastard triumvirate. He would prove Kiyomi and Vegeta wrong.

So he casually walked up to Zarbon. 

Then, he punched him directly in his crotch. 

The typically graceful, elegant Zarbon howled at an ear-splittingly high pitch, collapsed to his knees and fell on his delicate and meticulously maintained face into the puddle of vomit Dodoria had made little effort to clean.

Frieza, well, froze.

Before Dodoria could shout obscenities, Gohan kicked him in his crotch without even turning around. When his foot hit the floor, Gohan looked up at Frieza and his gobsmacked face, daring him to respond with just his fiercely furrowed brows.

Frieza’s response was swift. He thrust his arm out and incinerated Gohan with a pink flash of light, letting it envelop his small frame and send jolts through his body for as long as he pleased. By the time his point was thoroughly made and he relinquished the light, Gohan’s skin and purple uniform that mirrored his own were about two shades darker and charring with smoke. 

Gohan collapsed onto his face, his entire body convulsing.

“Don’t you dare move, boy!” Frieza’s voice boomed with madness. “I will decide what I do with you later!” He cantankerously snapped his fingers towards his two aides. “Zarbon! Dodoria! Pick your miserable selves up and follow me!”

They both groggily stood back up, hands on their aching privates and seething at Gohan as they followed Frieza out of the chamber. 

When they left, Vegeta opened only a single eye. His body felt like gelatin, even worse than it did after the fight with the Galactic Patrolman. Coughing hoarsely, he gazed at the writhing boy responsible for it all. Though it hurt his ribs to do so, he laughed with pride.

“Looks like there’s still hope for you yet, Gohan.”

It was faint, but Gohan smiled back.

“Ahhh….I gotta tell ya, I don’t know what we’d do without your supreme Coffee making skills!”

“My pleasure.”

Of course, the response had been made through gritted teeth. Though it was a reprieve from the vessel of misery that was Frieza’s base, Gomayn hated this part of his job the most. Under Frieza, he split time between intelligence work and assisted on low-level purges in a mask to stay out of the patrol’s crosshairs. It was a job of many perks. At the Galactic Patrol HQ, he was an intern at the bottom of the totem pole, forced to tolerate the presence of a bunch of eccentric dorks so Frieza could steal more resources without a mess.

That small, purple man with a blue face and golden shells for eyes, marveling at his coffee cup, was the biggest dork of them all. Jaco.

“If ya keep at it with the delicious drinks, you’ll rise up from intern to elite officer in no time,” Jaco said, enjoying a frothy sip from the cup. “I mean, not as elite as me of course, but that’s a high bar to clear!”

Gomayn shook his head and looked away from Jaco. Luckily, the events at his real job had kept his spirits brighter. Seeing Gohan, whom he deemed as a soft pretty-boy pitifully masquerading as a badass, get punched around by the savage he aspired to be was too satisfying for words. With the base as damaged as it was, he could hear his and Vegeta’s screams from their punishments. Gomayn just wished he hadn’t been sent to the office before he could see Gohan get dragged into a healing tank.

“What happened to your eye?” Jaco asked as he took a sip.

Gomayn scowled, the bruise from Arepa’s elbow still fresh on his face. He would personally get his revenge on those two, somehow. “Got hit by a rock. It’s nothing.”

“You better watch out for those space pebbles, I remember I got hit by one and not even my mom’s sweetest kisses could take the pain away,” Jaco said without a hint of irony.

“I’ll be fine,” Gomayn hissed.

Grabbing the large cup holder lined up with a dozen steaming mugs, Gomayn walked away from Jaco and into to the break room, where he was met with cheers from the caffeine-deprived patrolmen.

“Ah yeah, here comes the coffee boy!”

“My day’s about to get better!”

“Nobody steal my flavor!”

He sighed with boredom as the officers of wildly varying shapes, sizes, and colors snatched mugs off of the tray. Only the last officer to walk up to him actually filled him with a sense of respect - a pale purple-skinned fellow that appeared around his age, sporting grey hair.

“Thanks. You make this job a lot easier,” he said with a gracious smile as he picked up his mug.

That was Merus, the hypercompetent top ranking Patrolman. Essentially, who Jaco saw when he looked in the mirror.

After he set down the tray, he overheard an orange-skinned officer call for him. “Hey, Gomayn, we need you to file the Blue Aurum we picked up from an arrest. It’s in the room to your left. Don’t forget your filing tablet.”

When the man turned around, Gomayn smirked. Oh, he wouldn’t forget that, alright. It was an important part of his scheme. After walking to the table and picking up a small, white device, he opened the door...where an assortment of blow-up dolls collapsed on top of him.

Droves of laughter erupted through the room while Gomayn shoved the dolls off of him.

“Sorry, a little intern humor!” the orange officer said. “We had to introduce ya to Jaco’s harem!”

The laughter exploded to volcanic levels, although Jaco certainly didn’t share their sentiments. “C-C’mon, guys, that wasn’t that funny.”

Angrily, Gomayn stomped on one of the blow-up dolls heads to pop all of the air out of it. It was during these moments that he wanted to blow up the whole HQ, but he was outnumbered and often outclassed.

“Nah, but in all seriousness, it’s all in the big room down the hall,” the orange officer instructed.

Gomayn sighed and walked where directed. When he was within a few feet, however, somebody came barging through the break room.

“GUYS!”

Gomayn stopped and turned around. It was Irico, a short man with black eyes and a round head, bearing a skin color identical to his own. His face was panicked, bearing a heavy sadness. 

“Maguro...Maguro is dead!”

Everyone, including Gomayn, gasped in shock. Maguro was among the very best officers in the patrol, right up there with Merus. In Frieza’s army, he would have been among the best below elite level. 

The Patrolmen, previously laughing and enjoying themselves, had to sit down, each overcome with grief and confusion.

“I don’t get it...what happened?” Jaco asked.

“We’re not entirely sure, but Maguro got an Emergency call from Planet Wagyu about an attack from Frieza’s men,” Irico said.

Gomayn gasped. An attack?! He had ensured that planets connected with elite Patrol officers were off the books unless Frieza, Avo & Cado, or the Ginyu Force were involved. Nobody had been assigned to Planet Wagyu as far as he knew.

“Did they say who it was?!” Jaco asked.

“All the guy said in the call was...a guy with long, spiky hair and a tail attacked him.”

“A Saiyan!” one of the officers said. “Those savages are still kicking around, huh? You would think they'd desert Frieza after he wiped them all out.”

Gomayn shook his head, wondering if he'd heard that right. Frieza wiped out the Saiyans?

“His Receiver went offline earlier today and the entire Planet was destroyed!

More aghast breaths. Gomayn walked away from the room of Blue Aurum and joined the officers back in the break room. In contrast to all of the sorrowful frowns and whimpers, Gomayn’s expression was one of mystery and intrigue.

A Saiyan with long hair, huh?

Chapter Text

Gohan woke up, his back against the wall as he sat on the floor. Dozens of other soldiers sat across from him, slumbering as well; some snored like pigs. He looked to his left, wincing at Arepa as she slept with her head on his shoulder and snored every bit as loudly as the grown men.

Thanks to the extensive repairs the aftermath of Gohan and Vegeta’s fight required, the unit on Planet Frieza #79 divided themselves among three other planets in Frieza’s network and caused overcrowding. Besides numerous brawls over food rations, it also meant soldiers sleeping on floors.

After rubbing the crust out of his eyes, Gohan remained seated. A couple of soldiers passed by, leering down at the slumbering Arepa with grins on their face. Gohan sternly glared at the pair with folded arms as a nonverbal warning. They both flinched, wary of inciting a half-Saiyan’s wrath. 

Even as soldiers started to get up and go about their usual duties, Gohan stayed where he was. It wasn’t until Arepa finally yawned and groggily backed off of him to stretch did Gohan stand up. 

“Helluva couple of days, eh?” Arepa said, following Gohan down the hall.

“Hn.”

“At least they got Vegeta’s crew on another planet,” she observed. “ I’d be needing to protect you while you slept.”

“Yeah, right,” Gohan snickered. Arepa playfully shoved his shoulder.

Gohan hadn’t just been dismissing the joke. He couldn’t definitively tell because of Vegeta’s sour-by-default disposition, but everything that went down in Frieza’s chamber seemed to clear the air between the two. Which Gohan suspected was the real reason Frieza put them on a different planet.

“Gohan, Arepa, report to assembly room 2 for your briefing.”

Zarbon’s voice over the scouter. Arepa laughed at the sound of it.

“Boy, I wish I coulda been there to see Zarbon get hit in his jewels,” Arepa said, trying to smother her laughter. “Bugger probably sang some high notes after that.”

“You probably wouldn’t have wanted to see where it got me,” Gohan said. He didn’t want to say it out loud or he’d have to relive it. Electrical cables hooked to his crotch - that was as far as his brain got before he instinctively flinched. Though the healing tank had taken away the physical pain, his foul mood persisted. He couldn’t wait to unleash it on whatever hopeless planet he was headed for next.

Or, on the smiling lime-green teen standing in his and Arepa’s way.

“Move or be moved,” Gohan ordered Gomayn through a menacing squint. He met deaf ears.

“I think pretty boy wants another black eye,” Arepa said, cracking her knuckles.

Ignoring Arepa, Gomayn widened his grin at Gohan. “Up to no good, Gohan?”

“Move.” Gohan’s hand flickered with Ki. “Or be moved.”

“By all means,” Gomayn finally said, moving to the side. 

After one last threatening once-over, he left with Arepa. There was an assurance in Gomayn’s face that unsettled him.

“You’d think he would learn by now,” Arepa said.

Figuring it was best to move on, Gohan directed his focus to the incoming mission. When he and Arepa moved past the sliding door and into the room, Zarbon and Dodoria greeted them with scorn. Frieza kept his vexing neutrality.

As Gohan and Arepa took knees, Frieza stroked his chin with scrutiny towards the former. Every second of his silence made the half-Saiyan sweat anxiously. The laser pointers that were his eyes scanned his appearance, like they were marking Gohan for death.

“I hope the past few days have been a time of learning for you, Son Gohan,” Frieza began. “Though I still find your combination of power and intelligence highly valuable, you are not without fault and are no more subject to the rules than anyone else. What I saw in you was a boy who could act in line , and I expect that at all times going forward.”

Unconsciously, Gohan flexed his jaw. He brooded over the nature of his new arrangement. Over Vegeta. How much longer could Gohan keep a hold of himself and remain on the quickest path to the strength he needed?

“Do I make myself clear?” Frieza’s stare probed Gohan with the sharpness of a surgeon’s scalpel. Gohan had no choice but to clear his throat.

“Yes, Lord.”

“And Arepa, my lovely lady. I understand that you, too, are young - but I expect the same from you.” Arepa nodded. “Even in the hopefully doubtful event that your superior acts recklessly out of turn, know that you still answer to me at the end of the day. Clear?”

“Yes, Lord Frieza.”

As if a light switch flipped, Frieza puffed up into a cheery smile. “But now that the ugliness is past us, let’s get onto a mission that I’m absolutely sure will be thrilling. ”

The odious shift in Frieza’s tone on that last word made Gohan flinch. The lizard wasn’t short in methods of crawling Gohan’s skin.

“There’s a planet in the south sector that I need you to purge of all its population. A beautiful, fruitful planet. It’s name is...” Frieza clasped his hands with a wicked smile. “Planet Mamba.”

Despite the effort he placed on all of his facial muscles, Gohan’s eyes sprang open with shock. No... no. How? That couldn’t have been right, could it?

Frieza laughed haughtily into the air. “My child, I know fear when I see it! Don’t tell me you’ve heard of this planet before?!”

“No, sir,” Gohan said, like it was an automated response.

“But you’re right to tense up...it is a most powerful planet indeed. But I’m sure you can handle yourself.”

Gohan practically forced his sweat glands not to leak his nervousness as he agonized over his dilemma. How had the planet slipped through the cracks of Kiyomi’s meddling? His mind produced a few dozen possibilities, and they all led to suspicion.

“So let’s say I give you about...three days, trip length included? It’s a small planet, so I’m sure that will be plentiful.” Frieza flapped his wrist, shooing the teens away. “Now go on, you are dismissed. No time to waste!”

As they both stood up, Goha moved with more trepidation than typical. He exhaled as he turned around, walking - nay, marching - from the room.

“Don’t disappoint me, now!” Frieza said in the harmony of a nursery rhyme. As if Gohan needed more anxiety.

Gohan darted for the door faster than Arepa could keep up. Neither could see Gomayn smiling wickedly at them from afar.

“Sheesh Gohan, I’m here, too!” Arepa said when they got outside, where two pods awaited them. “You must be rarin’ to go for this one!”

Gohan didn’t answer her, plopping down inside his pod with heavy breaths. As soon as the door closed, he pressed a button on the pod’s control deck. “What are the landing coordinates?” 

Silently, he prayed for any answer besides the one he expected.

“0824LA.”

“Shit!” he yelled in response to the automated voice. Indeed, it was the very same planet he allowed Kobe, the remorseful green-skinned boy, to refuge in eight years prior. Gohan may have allowed himself to become a lot of things, but unlike what some were starting to think of him, he was not a traitor. He smashed the space pod’s intercom.

“Arepa, listen to me,” Gohan said.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t go with me on this mission.” His voice ran ragged, like his throat was filled with sand. “Stop at a Frieza planet and tell them that your pod malfunctioned.”

“What the hell, Gohan?!” Arepa yelled, sounding disappointed. “Don’t tell me you’re tryin’ to protect me or some dumb bullshit. I can handle myself just fine.”

Gohan hissed through his teeth; he was trying to protect her - just not from anybody on that planet. “It’s not that. Just - this is something I have to do alone. Whatever decisions I make there, you shouldn’t be held responsible for. Okay?”

“ Umm...okay, if you’re plannin’ on doin’ some stupid shit, I should proably be looped in on it.”

Tightly closing his eyes and shaking his head, Gohan growled sternly. “I’m the boss here! Just do it, okay?”

“Fine,” she answered with a frustrated grunt.  

“Just...be careful, okay?”

It happened again - Gohan’s chest fluttering. Her tone wasn't that of a comrade, but of someone who genuinely cared expressing her concern.

“I will.” It was a promise.

As his pod took off, Gohan sorted through his scouter until he found a link he had bookmarked.

“Hey, Kiyomi?”

“Yeah, Gohan?”

“Remember Planet Mamba, the planet I told you to hide? Frieza just sent me there.”

“What the hell? I’ve made sure that the planet wouldn’t show up in any directories.”

Gohan breathed a sigh of relief. In his anxiety and paranoia, he feared Kiyomi had written him off as a lost cause and stopped protecting him.

“But with all of the chaos from you and Vegeta’s fight, I can’t stay on top of everything like I could. I’m not even on the same planet as the folks I’m usually in contact with anymore. I’m sorry, Gohan.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gohan assured, smiling at the knowledge that he still allies. “But I’m not going to purge it. Do whatever you can to make sure Frieza’s surveyors go nowhere near it.”

“You Saiyans are sure as shit running me thin.” Gohan could practically see her eyes rolling. “But since it’s you...I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

“You are one polite intergalactic terrorist, kid.”

With bitter laughter, Gohan cut his scouter off. The planet he was heading for would hopefully prove he was worth more than that.

When Gohan stepped out of the space pod, the pretty golden sky and purple clouds immediately struck him. An increasingly frequent dilemma hit him again, reminding him of every beautiful planet the wondrous part of his mind marveled at...and then eradicated in pursuit of a goal. But they were weak and didn’t deserve to live, right? 

No matter. Gohan floated high into the clouds and did a scan of strong Ki signatures in the hopes that he’d find Kobe. When several formidable forces came about, Gohan growled. Those would certainly hamper his hunt. He could weed out the few evil presences he felt, sure, but that was as far as he could go.

He instead ventured for a city rich in life in search of a lead. The first island of buildings he came upon was a beauty, loaded with skillfully crafted architecture. Luckily, he would do them no harm.

After blasting down to the sky, Gohan landed in the middle of the street to the alarm of hundreds of multi-colored aliens. Many cowered from him, pointing to his uniform and scattering. Gohan frowned deeply - why did he even agonize over how he was perceived when his uniform and tail were an immediate mark of death?

Sighing, Gohan went to a stand occupied by a few warily side-eying patrons. An older spectacled man, pink-skinned with grey hair and wearing an apron, stepped behind the booth.

“The hell do you want? I know that armor anywhere,” he asked with a stern glare.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Gohan replied. “I’m looking for a...friend I guess.”

“A ‘friend,’ or just somebody to kill?” The man to his right asked. Like Kobe, his skin was green; unlike Kobe, he was tall and muscular. Like Doore from Cooler’s crew. “We ain’t about to be another transaction for that Frieza guy, ya hear me?”

Instinctively, Gohan sized him up - him, and the thin, yellow-skinned man to his left. Neither had any power of note, meaning an easy win. When they both stood up, Gohan followed with squared shoulders and a defensive stance. 

Until he remembered his real mission. Before either of them could strike, he hopped away.

“Look, it’s like I said - I’m not here for trouble, alright?!” Gohan reached his arms out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Who says you’ll hurt me?” the bulky green man challenged. He stomped on the ground, sending a vibration that Gohan could feel in his boots. His eyes twitched, dreading an escalating battle. Rubberneckers creeped into his peripheral vision, gawking at the confrontation; others fled.

“Hold on, boys,” called the geezer from behind the stand. His withered eyes squinted at Gohan. “I think this kid is alright. I sense a darkness within him, but no malice.”

Gohan hung his head. Darkness - of course. But he clenched his fists, trying to heed Vegeta’s urge to take more pride in himself. The man hobbled his way from the stands, placing his hands on the two younger brutes to calm them. He stepped just inches from Gohan, his hands clasped behind him in a gesture Frieza often assumed.

“People come with hearts of all shades courtesy of their lived experience, but their intentions vary.” The salmon-colored man adjusted his glasses. “Your intentions are good, aren’t they?”

Gohan only nodded.

The man stuck his wrinkled hand out.

“So, you’re alright with me.”

So this was what positive assessments from somebody outside of Frieza’s army felt like. Nothing pertaining to his power, only his heart and intentions. Though he took a few moments to stare at his hand, he accepted the handshake.

Though the two younger men behind him shook their heads in frustration and walked away, the old man smiled. “Name’s Boa. What’s the real reason you’re here?”

“I won’t lie to you. I wasn’t sent here for anything good.” Gohan turned to the golden skies. “But there’s a guy here that I saved years ago. I made him a promise no harm would come to him or this planet, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Boa stroked his chin in thought. “I do remember hearing of an attack on one of our space units years ago by some guys. They weren’t Frieza’s goons, but they were nasty in their own right.”

Of course - Kabnet’s men. 

“One of them was taken away. A kid, like yourself,” Boa lamented. “I could only imagine what his family went through.”

Gohan grimaced. He could certainly imagine himself. “We must be talking about the same guy, then. His name was Kobe. Ring a bell?”

“Sadly, no. I’d need more than one name!” he replied with a laugh.

“Well do you at least know anything about this space unit?” Gohan asked. “That could lead me to him.”

“They’ve got bases all over the planet. We call them the Vipers.” Boa looked into the sky. “I believe the closest one around here is over in Arboc city, a few miles south.” He pointed in the proper direction.

“Alright, I’ll head there.” The universe’s most polite intergalactic terrorist nodded towards Boa. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Safe travels, kid.”

Letting the wind burst around him, Gohan flew into the sky in pursuit of Arboc City. Hopefully, there would be another kind old man to cool off the harsh response his presence brought. Another advanced city came into Gohan’s view; figuring it was Arboc city, Gohan flew down below. Learning from the last city, Gohan kept his landing inconspicuous and dropped down to a quiet alley. As he observed his surroundings, he overheard some shouting from around the corner.

“I don’t know how much more I can make myself clear.”

“I know, I know, but leave my son out of this, please!”

BANG! 

A gunshot. Curious, Gohan peeked his head behind the wall and saw a blue-skinned man in a grey shirt and sweatpants sitting against the wall, wincing in pain as he clutched his bleeding foot. To his left?

“You’re lucky I only went for your foot!”

Another blue man with long hair dressed in all black. In one hand, a smoking gun and in the other? A frightened small boy, helplessly writhing in grip. As he yelled for his father, the thug in black laughed and made a run for a silver hovering vehicle.

“It’s quite simple - no money, no son!”

He tossed the kind into the backseat and hopped into the passenger’s. In the front seat was a purple man who hit the gas and sped the car off.

Hissing through his teeth, Gohan popped out from the corner, observing the injured victim. Though initially startled by Gohan’s outfit, he reached out.

“Please, that’s my son! They’re gonna kill him!”

Simmering with quiet rage, Gohan nodded. In no time at all, he flew ahead of the speeding vehicle and spun around to face the drivers. They screeched to a halt and tried to swerve out of his way, but the half-Saiyan only needed to dig his foot into the hood and kill the engine to stop them. As he held the car in place, Gohan bent down and smashed his arm through the windshield to grab the driver by his neck. Treating him like a lawn dart, he chucked the driver thousands of feet away.

While Gohan methodically approached the driver’s seat, blue kidnapper cowered away and tried to spill out from the opposite door. Though he stumbled out and hit the pavement, Gohan’s boot was an inch from his face. The half-Saiyan picked him up, tossed him into the building behind them, handheld him in place with his forceful fist. In a gesture more fitting of his full-blooded ex-comrades, Gohan grabbed the collar of the thug’s shirt and thrust his head into his. He even dug his knee into his stomach out of pure spite. As soon as the man fell to his knees, Gohan smacked him in the face with the back of his hand.

It was only after his head cracked on the pavement that Gohan remembered why he’d gone after him - the boy whimpering in the backseat of the car. Gohan ripped one of the doors from its hinges and beckoned the kid to run away. He listened, stumbling out of the door with bewildered sniffles.

His father, the shooting victim, limped away from the alley. “G-Garter! You’re safe!”

“Dad!”

The boy rushed to his father, gleefully ignoring his injured foot as he tackled him. Somberly, Gohan looked away and turned around to leave the scene as quickly as he could, but the father called out for him.

“Hey, you…!” Gohan turned back around. Though weak, the father wore a gracious smile. “You saved my son! I don’t have any money but there’s got to be some way I can show my gratitude!”

“No, it’s fine,” Gohan replied.

“It’s not every day a Cold Force soldier does good,” he said, sitting down on a bench while he tended to his foot. “Hopefully that’s all you’re here for.”

“It is.” Gohan looked ahead. “Actually, I guess there is something I need. I’m looking for a friend I made a long time ago, named Kobe.”

Though the father scrunched his face in confusion, Garter, the kid, lit up with excitement. “Ooh, do you mean Kobe Bean?! You know him?!”

“Huh? Well, what does he look like?”

“He’s tall, green, and has an afro!” Garter said, spreading his arms above his head to demonstrate.

“Oh yeah, the basketball phenom,” the father remarked.

“Yeah, that’s him!” Gohan said with a smile. 

“He lives around here! I’ve met him a buncha times,” the kid cheered.

“Cool. That’s all I need.” Gohan turned on his heel, focusing his Ki on strong presences within the vicinity. One particular Ki stood out from the other, to the east. “There he is.”

“Thanks, mister!” the boy said before Gohan flew off.

Gohan reflected on that encounter as he sped towards that Ki signature. Everything pertaining to the planet felt like a constant reminder of what Gohan could have had; a salvation he’d twice rejected. 

The Ki signature rested in the neighborhood down below. As Gohan observed the various brick houses lining the streets, he asked himself one question: 

How many? 

How many neighborhoods just like this had he set ablaze over the years? How many people just like Kobe, or that kid and his father, or the friendly old man, had he laid waste to for committing the grievous crime of being weak? Sure, he executed his purges as quickly as possible, blindly destroying buildings en masse so he wouldn’t have to reckon with the catastrophe he wrought in Frieza’s name - but putting faces to his victims brought nothing but questions.

Preferring not to brood over it, Gohan approached the home where the Ki signature was the strongest - a small, red building. He knocked on the door so he wouldn’t make a scene.

The door swung open, revealing a tall woman with golden skin that practically glistened, and luscious black hair. Her beauty immediately struck Gohan; he looked away with a blushing face.

“Um, hello,” Gohan squeaked out.

The woman studied him for a few moments. “Long hair...a tail. Ah, wait! You must be the Saiyan that brought my son back to me!”

Gohan shook his head in disbelief. Kobe’s mother ?

“Y-Yes, that’s me,” he meekly answered. 

With a wide smile, the woman stepped back. “Please, by all means come in! I’m Ana, by the way!”

Gohan followed her inside, looking around at the house interior. It took him back to before Raditz, where couches, pictures, kitchens and televisions decorated Gohan’s living experience; not drab slabs of stone. And the smell - Gohan nearly salivated at the delicious aroma of food emanating from the kitchen.

“Oh, Kobe’s gonna flip when he sees you,” Ana said, leading Gohan to a door in the back. She pushed it open. “Hey, Kobe! You have a visitor!”

Outside was a plane of black pavement lined with white markings and circular formations. Faraway stood a pole topped with a white board and a basket. A boy in black shorts and a shirt stood across from it, his back to them. His puffy hair made him easy to find.

When he turned around, he put the orange ball in his hand down and smiled.

“So it was you who I sensed, Gohan.”

Relief hit Gohan at Kobe’s face. It was just the same as back then, only he’d gained two feet and shed the grief he’d carried. After taking a sip of water, he joined the two and extended his hand to Gohan. His handshake was gladly reciprocated.

“Ooh, I don’t want to be the embarrassing mother,” Ana said. “I’ll leave you boys alone!” She went back inside, closing the doors behind her.

“It’s been too long, Gohan,” Kobe said. “What brings you here? Actually, don’t answer.”

“I was sent here...mistakenly,” Gohan said, measuring his words. “Coincidence or something else...I’m still working that out. But I’m not here to cause any problems.”

“Still dealing with Frieza, I see.”

Gohan didn’t reply. There wasn’t any judgment in Kobe’s tone; but there was nothing to say, really.

“So I see you’re kinda popular around here,” Gohan observed, looking at the pole dozens of feet across from them. 

“Yup,” Kobe snickered as he walked towards his orange ball and picked it up. “Basketball. You heard of it?”

“Actually, I think I heard that word once or twice on my old planet,” Gohan replied. “Never actually saw it, though.”

Kobe picked up the ball, bounced it against the ground a few times, and threw it precisely at the basket attached to the board across from them. It fell through the basket, flapping the strings of its net with a clean whipping noise.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at it, I guess,” Kobe said, modestly. “I’m not 18 yet, but a lot of people around our country are saying I can make our big league right out of school. I got an advantage with my power and all.”

Gohan did recall Kobe mentioning he wanted to be an athlete instead of a soldier -  and it looked like that had come to fruition. 

As if to demonstrate it, Kobe picked up the ball, zipped back, and sprinted towards the basket while bouncing the ball the entire time, and then slammed into it with brute force.

“Of course, there’s plenty of folks even stronger than me who do it. But I love it,” Kobe said, bouncing the ball a few times. “Thanks for giving me the chance to try it out.”

Gohan smiled forlornly as he nodded at him. When would he get such a chance? While Kobe had flourished into what he wanted to be, Gohan had simply become what was necessary, because he didn’t have to like it.

Before he could muse any further, the basketball was thrown at him. 

“You give it a shot,” Kobe said. “Just get the ball in the hoop.”

Gohan picked up the ball and bounced it like Kobe had done. “Seems simple enough.” He didn’t see Kobe’s cocky smirk while he rolled the ball around. Haphazardly, Gohan tossed the ball at the basket.

It violently hit the rim and ricocheted back to Gohan’s face.

After catching the ball, he irritably bounced it on the ground while Kobe laughed.

“Ain’t that simple, huh?” Kobe said. He slapped the ball out of Gohan’s hand and bounced it some more. “It’s a finesse game. There’s an art to it, instead of just brute force like I did working for Kabnet.”

“Funny thing is, I have to tell people the same thing in Frieza’s army,” Gohan replied. “Finesse over brute force, I mean.”

“Now here’s how you do it,” Kobe said. “You right-handed or left-handed?”

“Right-handed.”

Kobe spread the fingers of his right hand wide and picked the ball up. “Place the ball in your right hand using only your fingers. Try to keep your palm off of it.” He placed his left hand on the side of the ball. “Then you just use your left hand to hold it in place. When you shoot it, you’re only using your right hand.”

Kobe raised his arms, focusing intensely on the basket.

“And then, it’s just a little hop and a flick of the wrist.”

Indeed, Kobe jumped, flicked his wrist, and the ball flew to the rim with the arch of a rainbow, cleanly falling through the basket.

“Now that’s how you shoot.”

Kobe tossed the ball back at Gohan, who caught it effortlessly. “Try to shoot it the proper way, now.”

Gohan nodded, keeping a tight grip around the ball with his fingers but struggling to keep his palm away; he couldn’t help it, really. He wanted to just grab the ball like he would normally, but evidently that wasn’t the proper shooting form. It took mental discipline to restrict the grip to only his fingers.

With his left hand, he guided the ball. He jumped, lifted his arm, and flicked his wrist. After it left his hand, he grimaced; unconsciously, he put some of his left hand into it. And the arc wasn’t anywhere near as graceful as Kobe’s. When it reached the basket, it bounced against the rim a little bit...but it went through.

Just throwing it certainly seemed to make sense. That’s what it seemed like was the obvious way to do it. But there was way more that went into shooting a ball, apparently.

Kobe laughed as he picked the ball up. “There ya go! Good first proper shot. Just gotta get the timing with your jump right.”

After spinning it around in his hands, Kobe bounced the ball against the pavement a few times. “But the game’s not just shooting. It’s the most free-range sport there is. You run up and down the court but you can’t just run around with it in your hands. Every step you take, you have to dribble,” he bounced the ball against the ground to demonstrate. Much like he did when he slammed the ball through the basket, he ran around while bouncing the ball with his steps.

“Lot of rules for something that’s free-range,” Gohan scoffed. 

“That’s the point,” Kobe snickered. “It ain’t supposed to be easy!”

Kobe dribbled around Gohan until he was standing with his face towards the basket again. “Here, let me show you the type of skill you need to really get good at this. Just crouch in front of me like you’re defending yourself in a fight and try to stop me from getting to the basket. No hitting, though.”

Gohan did as directed, and what happened next scrambled his brain. Sure, Kobe’s movements were easy to see , but then he started dribbling the ball between his legs and busting out an assortment of coordinated footwork. The next thing Gohan knew, Kobe had zipped past him and slammed the ball into the basket.

“W-What the…?!” Gohan yelled as he stood there, stunned. “I could see your movements, but I couldn’t follow them at all!”

“That’s good ol’ footwork,” Kobe snickered as he put the ball down and sat on top of it. “The skills I learned in Kabnet’s army went to a lot of bad things, but now I’ve managed something positive out of it.”

With a sigh, Gohan sat down across from Kobe. Science was just about the only productive thing Gohan had gotten out of Frieza’s army besides fighting.

“How are you holding up?” Kobe asked.

“I’m alive, and that’s all that really matters,” Gohan replied from the confines of his defense mechanisms.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Kobe said, though his expression grew somber. “But I mean...are you, like, okay?”

With folded arms, Gohan looked away. “There’s not much to be okay about. I do what I have to do, knowing one day I’ll either get rid of my problem or drop dead.”

“You want to overthrow Frieza, then?”

Gohan raised an eyebrow. “Of course I do. That’s the whole reason I was dragged into this mess in the first place. Frieza won’t be satisfied until everyone in the universe with spiky hair and a tail is his slave, so we have to stop him.”

“So you guys are stopping him...by being his slave?”

It was the same thing Gohan had thrown in Vegeta’s face, only he had just been going for a victory in a verbal joust. Hearing it plainly spelled out by somebody else threw Gohan off his game.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

No answer. 

“Look, Frieza can kill anybody in the blink of an eye if he thinks they’re an enemy. The only way you can try to stop him and live to tell about it is if you make him think you’re on his side.” Gohan’s tail had uncoiled and waved restlessly behind him, betraying his anxiety.

“Makes sense,” Kobe conceded. “But the toll it takes...the actions you have to resort to. Do you truly think it’s worth it?”

Gohan turned to look Kobe in his eyes. On his face was that same expression from their fateful first meeting, one ridden of guilt and shame.

“I mean, things are okay for me now, but I still have nightmares,” Kobe said, resting his shoulders on his knees and sitting with his chin on his hands. “When I see kids run up to me and cheer, I think about the kids on planets we struck that ran away screaming before I blasted them away.”

It looked like Gohan wasn’t alone in that regard.

“I was just like you, playing the game because it’s survival of the fittest. But really, I just robbed a bunch of people like me of their lives to spare myself.” As he lifted one of his hands to dig through his messy hair, Kobe looked up at the gold & purple sky. “I thought I was being strong, but at the end of the day I was too scared to fight my masters the hard way.”

In a flash, Gohan shot right to his feet.

“What the hell are you trying to say, then? That I’m some coward ?”

“Of course I’m not.” Though startled by Gohan’s sudden hostility, he remained outwardly calm. “But I was just like you-”

“You’re right, you were just like me,” Gohan sharply interrupted, baring his teeth like his savage Ape transformation. “Crying and feeling sorry for yourself. But I don’t have anybody who’s gonna save me. The only one who gave enough of a shit about me was too weak to do anything about it!”

“But you saved me ,” Kobe said. “And unless you get any madder, you’re not killing me right now. The good guy’s still there.”

Bewildered by Kobe’s disarming quip and smile even in the face of a pissed off murderous Saiyan, Gohan calmed down. With a few steady breaths, he sat back down on the pavement in concession of Kobe’s point.

“I get it,” Gohan said with an exasperated sigh. “I’ve pretty much punched my ticket to hell after everything I’ve done, but it’s the only way. And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill me anyway.”

“Is that really the case, though? You can get strong without ever having to step foot on a Frieza or a Kabnet base.”

“Bullshit. My father’s a Saiyan, just like his brother that kidnapped me. Only, he didn’t grow up like he did.” Gohan didn’t realize it, but his eyes dampened. “He grew up on a weak, carefree planet where he was stronger than everybody, and when a real Saiyan came around and snatched up his son, he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.”

Kobe didn’t answer immediately, instead nodding along and allowing Gohan a few moments to grieve and cool off.

“It sucks knowing that you’re not good enough,” Kobe finally said, “But that’s why you push even harder. I’d bet anything your father would wreck everyone’s shit if he’s ever able to find you.”

“He’s a low-class Saiyan who doesn’t have anybody worth a damn pushing him,” Gohan scoffed, rattling it off like a rehearsed statement programmed into his brain. “My uncle’s from his stock, and even with Frieza’s system and three other Saiyans to keep up with, he sucks . I’m only as strong as I am because my mom’s an earthling and that causes some weird genetic mutation, I guess.

“So the same planet you dismiss as weak is the source of your power, then?” Kobe asked with a smirk. Gohan blinked, genuinely stumped.

“Look, we all take losses. I didn’t just wake up this good at basketball,” Kobe said, sliding back until he fell onto the pavement so he could scornfully squeeze the basketball like a grapefruit. “A few years ago my team got demolished in a championship game. Like, I mean, it had me questioning if I even knew how to play. And it was awful seeing another team celebrate with the trophy I thought should’ve been mine . But all that did was fuel me to work like a demon, and I didn’t have to compromise myself.”

“That sounds good and all, but the trophy wasn’t a four-year old who was forced to play for the winning team or die.”

Kobe chuckled. “Maybe so. But the point is, you don’t have to give in to the other side. This planet’s not that strong either, but I’m way better now than I was the day you saved me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Gohan scoffed.

His competitive fire lit, Kobe smirked. “Is that a challenge? I ain’t just good at the ol’ shootyhoops, y’know.”

“Try me.” Gohan returned his splendor.

They both stood up - shoulders squared, fists clenched, and ready for battle.

“I’ll give you one free shot,” Gohan arrogantly offered.

“Really now? So you’ll have no right to complain.”

“Do your w-”

All the wind escaped Gohan’s mouth when Kobe punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen as if he were trying to prevent his scant lunch from spilling out. Eventually, enough strength left him that he had to kneel. 

“Oh...okay…” he finally spat, grinding his teeth.

Kobe reached his hand out to help Gohan up, but the fiery half-Saiyan swatted it away. Kobe laughed, as if he’d expected such a reply. Gohan stumbled back up, still clutching his stomach and letting out the occasional cough.

“Now I doubt I’m as strong as you. The Saiyans are no joke, from what I’ve heard,” Kobe said, kicking the basketball up and catching it. “But you see what I mean?”

Kobe took another shot, with his graceful form. “You mentioned how basketball seems restrictive but free at the same time. But that’s the whole thing. You can’t just take what looks like the conventional route and just run to the hoop. You gotta be creative.”

He tossed the ball back at Gohan. “Drive to the hoop, like I was doing. Just remember to dribble with every step.”

After staring at the ball in his hands for a few moments, Gohan bounced it on the ground. With Kobe’s earlier basketball wizardry in mind, Gohan bounced it between his legs a few times - and in fact, he did it easily. A few dribble-aided strides later, and he was slamming the ball in the hoop like Kobe, too.

“See? You pulled your first dunk, and you looked like a damn pro out there,” Kobe said. Gohan bounced the ball back to him, but not before having some fun and dribbling it between his legs a few more times with the smile of a kid to a new toy. “Look, I’d never say you were a coward. In your world, you can’t be.”

“You’d be surprised,” Gohan replied, thinking of Cui and his dumb face.

“Good point,” Kobe snickered. “But you never gave yourself a chance to try a different way. Sure, you won’t see the shot bounce off the rim like a brick if you don’t take it...but you’re damn sure not gonna see that ball fall through the hoop, either.”

The longer Gohan looked at the orange basketball, the more it resembled a planet itself. A pretty, blue planet actually.

“And you said if you don’t follow Frieza’s orders, you’ll die, right?” Kobe said. “But you’re not killing us right now. You’re sitting here playing basketball. You’re already taking the risk. Unless you change your mind,” he added, laughing morbidly.

Gohan squinted his eyes at Kobe - not as a warning but in deep thought. Kobe’s logic was free of any holes.

“Slaving for someone is a dead end. That’s part of why I wanted you to kill me when you first found me,” Kobe said. “You can get as strong as you possibly can, or you can stay on Frieza’s good side. But you can’t do both.”

But you can’t do both.

Gohan didn’t visibly react. But hearing it defined so flatly made his heart pound. It was that dark shadow of doubt that followed not only him, but Vegeta. It was the reason Vegeta had been behaving so recklessly - he was trying to be more creative, but at the same time going through extra hoops to make sure Frieza still saw him as a loyal soldier. Was Vegeta, the bold, stubborn, fearless, Saiyan Prince, afraid to take the shot, too?

No, he couldn’t be. A true Saiyan feared nothing.

He stayed silent for a few moments, unable to conjure up the proper response. Was he just going to agree with Kobe, after all he’d put himself through to play the game in the assumed smart way? Was he going to be defiant and insist on doing things the bad way? Figuring out what to make of such a message was perhaps a tougher challenge than any of the life-threatening battles Gohan faced.

“This got a little heavy,” Kobe said, cringing. “Shit ain’t easy where you live, so I get it. So let’s just not think about it for a minute.”

Could Gohan afford not to think about, though?

“Now, I know you have nostrils, so you had to smell what my mom was cooking up.” Kobe gestured towards his house. “Wanna come inside and enjoy a meal before you get out of here?”

A home-cooked meal? When was the last time Gohan had ever been treated to such a thing? Between all of the purges, hunts, and pathetic excuses for lunch served at Frieza’s bases, Gohan’s acquaintance with food had been difficult at best. He forgot what real cooking even tasted like. 

And when he got a chance to get it again, straight from his mom on Earth, he turned it down.

Gohan hung his head, trying to mask his eyes. “No, I’m fine. I don’t…” Don’t want to impose? Don’t want to hog the food? “I don’t...deserve it, right now.”

With a faint smile, Kobe nodded. “I understand. I guess you’ll be leaving, then?”

“Yeah,” Gohan replied. “I have...a lot to think about on the ride back.”

Kobe put the ball down and extended his hand. “Well, wherever your mind takes you, good luck. I hope you figure out all the answers.”

Gohan extended his hand, only to be caught off guard when Kobe scoffed.

“Man, none of the handshake shit, Gohan,” Kobe said, chuckling at the awkward Saiyan boy. “Just slap it.”

With a smirk, Gohan obliged. It was far less formal, and far more enjoyable.

“Maybe next time we see each other, you won’t be in that armor,” Kobe said. He turned around, heading back inside. Before he stepped through the door, he raised his arm and flashed the peace sign.

After a nod packed with respect, Gohan flew off. As he raced for his space pod, his mind went back to Planet Trident all those years ago. Back then, he had allowed himself to find a friend in Mentos, and cowardly strung him along knowing the grisly fate that awaited him. Worse yet, he had been forced to do it himself. That wouldn’t be what happened to Kobe. As long as Gohan was around and had an inside connection through Kiyomi, Planet Mamba would remain safe.

When he finally reached his space pod and floated down to the crater, he gave Planet Mamba’s majestic skies one last, hopeful look before he sat back in the pod. A day without fighting, training, or coping - just having fun and playing basketball with a friend. How long would it be before he could have a day like that again?

Gohan stepped inside his pod, and clicked his scouter on as the door closed.

“I’m done, Arepa.”

Several days later, Kiyomi shuffled through her scouter, searching for the entry for Planet 0824LA, a.k.a Planet Mamba. Fiddling with the books was a precise process - she couldn’t do things too early and set off suspicion. Keeping the deadlines and travel length in mind was the key, and thus she waited until Gohan’s probable return date and report to finally finagle with the planet’s status.

After a few more swipes, she finally found it. She clicked.

And froze.

“Purged” in red letters under its name?

Drone shots of destroyed buildings and corpses?

No, that couldn’t have been right. Gohan wouldn’t have made her go to the trouble of changing its status and blocking off inspection avenues if he was planning on wiping it out, anyway.

And it was just something that the boy, loyal and principled to a fault, wouldn’t do.

Right?

When Gohan arrived back at the base, Arepa was the first person waiting for him. 

“So, what happened, exactly?” she asked.

After a drawn-out sigh, Gohan sat on his space pod, a pensive gaze painting his face. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Arepa scrunched her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Just...I dunno.” He looked up at Arepa, taking in the inquisitive worry in her eyes. “Do you ever really think about what we do? All the people we kill?”

With an exasperated breath, Arepa took a seat next to Gohan on the pod. “I mean, sometimes? But, I’m a little different from you. I come from a long line of gangsters and scumbags. Pulled my first armed robbery in diapers. I was a hopeless little shit from the word ‘go.’”

Picturing a baby Arepa cursing and pushing people around made Gohan snort a laugh.

Arepa tapped her hands against the pod’s steel surface. “But I can’t stop myself from thinkin’ about the girls like me. Just livin’ their life until I come in and kill ‘em all because of orders.” Her fingers gripped the steel tightly, leaving small dents. “Or what happens when some of the pigs around here get their hands on ‘em.”

Even imagining that made Gohan’s skin crawl. 

“But...this is what we do. There’s no such thing as a peaceful planet ‘round here. They’re just places these guys ain’t gotten to yet. It’s Frieza’s universe, and we just live in it.” She didn’t realize it, but she had more or less quoted Vegeta. “Better to be on the side that lives, for now.”

“I thought I was seeing it that way,” Gohan confessed. “But I don't know what to think now. Why should I keep doing something so awful when Frieza can kill me the minute he thinks I’m a threat?”

Gohan sat up from his pod, curling and uncurling his tail. “You were part of Kabnet’s resistance before all this. Maybe he was braver than any of us.”

Arepa pounded the space pod and swiftly stood up. “Kabnet was a rotten bastard who just wanted to cosplay Frieza” Her icicle eyes lit with a resentful flame. “I don’t have a father or a home because of him, so don’t you dare prop him up!”

Out of shame, Gohan averted his eyes from her. She was just as fired up as she was following that private moment he should have never seen.

Arepa shook her head, embarrassed. "Fuck..."

Gohan reached his arm out, apologetically. Arepa looked down at his gloved hand with a bitter laugh.

"Ya fuckin' caught me, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"On Peroni...I was cryin'," she confessed, scratching at her cheek. Gohan let his body relax, lingering tension leaving his muscles. "It happens, sometimes. I just think about him, my ol' family, my planet, my life here...I mean you didn't think I was actually happy in this shithole, didja?"

"No, of course not," Gohan said, looking into her eyes. He had never seen her more clearly than he had at that moment, and the sight warmed him to his core.

"But somebody's gotta be the jester, y'know?" A single drop of liquid fell from her eye after she squeezed a smile onto her face.

“No. You shouldn't have to be. And I shouldn't just be putting up with this," Gohan said, passion igniting in his voice.

"No, no," Arepa whimpered. "I should be stronger than this. I shouldn't have you worryin' about me like I'm some baby."

"You are strong."

When the words left Gohan's mouth with total conviction, Arepa gasped in surprise. Her eyes were wide as she gazed at Gohan, quivers overtaking her bottom lip.

"That day you saw me all chained up, you took a risk and fought against him without a second thought.” Gohan swiped his hand out of frustration. “I haven't been willing to take a risk and fight like you have! I didn’t fight against Raditz, I didn’t fight against Vegeta when he forced me to kill, and I’m doing nothing against Frieza. Me, Vegeta, the other Saiyans...maybe we really are cowards.”

He was so absorbed in thought, he didn’t realize he was really answering what he had inferred from Kobe. 

“Stay right where you are, Gohan.”

Gohan blinked in confusion. 

His eyes flew wide open when Arepa wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. He tensed up, shuddering with confusion while she rested her head against his neck.

"We both could fuckin' use this right about now..." she said with a giggle, burying her head against his shoulder. Gohan could feel the fabric of his body suit dampening around where she rested.

“And you are no coward,” she whispered, pulling her head towards his neck. The breath of her words breezing against his skin gave Gohan goosebumps. “Out of all the apples ‘round here, you’re the least rotten.”

In his entire time in Frieza’s army, Gohan had never received a hug that wasn’t really an iron-tight assault from one of the many people that dwarfed him. Feeling one now, and especially from Arepa, incited a wave of emotions inside him.

But he couldn’t accept her platitudes. He would be lying to himself.

So, he backed away, ignoring Arepa’s peevish huffs and puffs. 

“Sheesh, can’t even hug you either, huh?”

“It’s...fine,” Gohan replied, awkwardly wiping his hair. “Let’s just go. Frieza knows you had ‘technical difficulties,’ right?”

“Yeah. I was runnin’ out of problems to find with the damn pod towards the end.”

“Fine. Just leave everything else to me.” He turned around and led the way inside the base. 

“What happened there, anyway? Why did you need me to stay back?”

“While you were in Kabnet’s army, did you ever meet a guy named Kobe?”

Arepa’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, the green cutie with the puffy hair?!” When Gohan glared at her, she giggled and backed away. “Heh, sorry.”

Gohan rolled his eyes. Why was he even jealous, anyway?

Just before they reached the entrance, he stopped. A couple of soldiers from the other side swung the door open and stepped out, rolling their eyes at the two teenagers. It wasn’t until they were out of earshot that Gohan resumed speaking. “Well, Mamba is his home planet. He’s there, and I didn’t attack it. But as far as everyone else is concerned, it was purged. Okay?”

Though Arepa nodded, a very real and very justifiable level of concern captured her eyes. They walked through the doors and into Frieza’s makeshift throne room soon after. Zarbon and Frieza were present, though Dodoria was missing.

“Ah, Gohan and Arepa; back so soon,” Frieza glowed as they both got down onto one knee. “I take it you had no problem purging Planet Mamba?”

“Yes, Lord Frieza,” Gohan replied automatically.

“See, this is why I favor you,” Frieza said. “Even with Arepa unable to participate, you got the job done. But your efficiency is in dire need at the moment.”

“Huh?”

“Conspicuous in his absence is Dodoria. I sent him to purge a planet named Fugu but evidently underestimated its fortitude. His life is hanging on by a thread.”

Really, Gohan was happy to hear the pink blob was about to kick the bucket; but that didn’t make him any less shocked. Dodoria was a fearsome warrior who always handled himself fine in any setting.

“With the disorganization rampant in the wake of your, shall we say, kerfluffle with Vegeta, I need Zarbon to stay here,” Frieza explained. “I’ve sent some of my top reinforcements, but I think this mission will require a Saiyan’s touch. Your plesiomorphic Great Ape form will put an end to the struggle in an instant.”

“Yes, sir,” Gohan replied, though he really wanted to test his normal might against this threat.

“Given the scale of this fight, I will need you to stay put until Gohan has returned, Arepa,” Frieza instructed. “This is a job for the very strongest in my ranks.”

“Yes, sir,” Arepa replied.

“Head to the launch room, and briskly. A high-speed pod will get you there in a matter of hours. It goes without saying, but don’t damage it, as it’s among the few we have.”

“Got it,” Gohan said, standing up and bowing respectfully before he left the room. Though his mind was a mess of conflicting questions, his Saiyan blood always stewed at the prospect of a fight. 

“Arepa, you are dismissed, though I expect you to train,” Frieza directed. 

When Arepa replied affirmatively and left the room, Frieza turned to Zarbon and opened his mouth to speak. However, a voice from his scouter interrupted him.

“Frieza?”

The lizard sighed. “ What, Cooler?”

“We require your presence, and fast.”

“Ugh, seriously? The fun was just about to begin,” Frieza whined. “Fine, whatever. I will be there as quickly as time allows.”

Frieza clicked his scouter off, annoyed but following his brother’s orders. Cooler and his stupid extra transformation. Whatever. He turned to Zarbon with a tense, scrutinizing gaze. “I trust you’ll be able to take care of everything yourself, Zarbon?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Zarbon replied, suddenly sweating with excitement. He couldn’t fight the eager smile that curled his lip upward.

After Frieza and his chair floated out of the room, Zarbon clicked his scouter and scrolled through a few names.

“Kiyomi. Report here to Planet Frieza #81 at once.”

When Gohan stepped out of the crater left in his landing on Planet Fugu, his eyes fluttered in confusion. Evidently, he had been late for the party, because all he could see for miles were piles of corpses. Smoke filled the pink skies. And he could only sense Dodoria’s Ki, actually.

Gohan hadn't taken even five steps when an explosion went off behind him. The force of the shockwave rocked him face-first into the ground. When he sprang back up and turned around to find the source of that blast, his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach.

"My space pod!"

It was Planet Zuna all over again. His space pod was destroyed. All that remained were scraps of metal and electricity sparking from the wrecked control panel. The half-Siayn clenched his fist in contempt. Who the hell had the gall to do such a thing?

An obnoxious fit of laughter from up above interrupted Gohan’s thoughts. When he looked up to the sky, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head – floating several feet above him was a certain snickering alien-

"Dodoria?!”

The rotund, pink hunk of spikes only laughed more rambunctiously. He jumped down, flipping in mid-air before landing on the ground in front of the stunned half-Saiyan. If he had been knocking on death’s door like Frieza described, he sure as hell didn’t look it. Instead, he methodically stalked towards Gohan, his malicious grin growing with each step he took.

Sweat swam down Gohan's head as he stepped back. What was going on? It didn't take a rocket scientist to see Dodoria’s face and not tell he was looking for a fight. But why? Had Dodoria decided to rebel against Frieza? Or was he-

Before Gohan could even complete his thought, Dodoria phased right in front of him and rocked his jaw with an explosive punch. He flew back and hit the ground so hard it cracked beneath him, clouds of dust building around his body.

Gohan sat up, muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed at his jaw furiously. Though he couldn’t quite place what was going on, he sure as hell knew he despised Dodoria. He sneered hatefully at him as he made his approach.

"W-what the hell are you doing?!"

Dodoria just ignored him, walking until only a few feet separated them. He raised his arm and opened his palm, enshrouding it with deadly Ki. It was only as the light grew in size did Gohan start piecing everything together.

This couldn’t have been about Planet Mamba, could it?

The chuckle that left Dodoria’s lips chilled Gohan to his bones. That glow of light kept growing until it was the size of Dodoria’s own head.

"I'm afraid you've been… excommunicated."

He then fired.

Chapter Text

Gohan narrowly avoided Dodoria’s blast. Sweat raced down his cheeks as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Dodoria, giving him no chance to collect his thoughts, made a beeline for him and aimed a vicious punch at his jaw. The half-Saiyan blocked it with his forearms, but even that took an enormous toll. Without hesitation, Dodoria swung his leg up for a kick that would have torn Gohan's head off had he not ducked down to dodge it. 

With a brief opening, Gohan exploded his Ki and blasted off into the sky.

"What do you mean, excommunicated?" Gohan demanded, his voice shaky.

Dodoria cackled from down below. "Frieza knew all along about Planet Mamba!”

All of the color left Gohan's face. “H-How?!”

“You remember that stupid bear from Cui’s squad, right?”

Beari , Gohan recalled. Big, red bear with a child’s voice. “What about him?!”

“That mission you all went on where he was killed. Bet you didn’t know he was supposed to deliver a scouter, did you?”

Gohan’s brows arched in confusion. “So what?!”

“Never got a chance to deliver it.” Dodoria slowly floated up, laughing a predator’s laugh. “He left it in a certain pod.”

Gohan’s breath ran short. His eyes jolted open.

“No…”

“One of our intel traced a scouter on Planet Mamba, and we probed its data,” Dodoria explained while Gohan felt himself getting sick. “Picked up the whole conversation between you and that brat before he took off. Frieza didn’t see him as a threat and since he likes you monkeys for God knows why, he let it slide. But he kept it in his back pocket.”

No...no! Was all Gohan said in his head. How could he have failed so horribly? All he could think about was Kobe, how reluctant he’d been to escape at first because he thought either Kabnet’s men would know, or Frieza. As it turned out, Gohan really did put him on Frieza’s radar.

“W-Why…?!” Gohan squeaked. “Why now?!”

“Because you destroyed Planet Wagyu and killed a Galactic Patrolman behind his back. The news spilled from there,” Dodoria said. “Guess a promotion just wasn’t enough for your little caveman ass, huh?”

“ What?!”

As Arepa wiped herself off following a nice, long brawl with a few Saibamen in the training quarters, she headed for the mess hall to get some much-needed sustenance. Unfortunately, as soon as she filled her tray and sat down at a table, everybody’s “favorite” lime-skinned menace approached the table and swiped her tray to the floor.

Arepa sat there for a second, attempting to properly process her anger. She breathed. Sang a quick tune from her home planet. Both useless. She pounded her fist into the table, popped up, and squeezed a handful of Gomayn’s neck.

“Guess you want me to finish what I started, huh?” Arepa said, so close in his face that their noses touched.

Though had gone red, Gomayn somehow managed to grin right in Arepa’s fuming face. “You can try, but it’ll all come back to you. Gohan’s not gonna be around to protect you much longer!”

Roughly tossing Gomayn out of her grip, Arepa planted her hands on her waist. “The hell is your goofy ass going on about now? What, ya gonna tattle on him for makin’ mean eyes at you?”

After letting out a few hoarse coughs, Gomayn rubbed his neck and laughed at her. “I don’t need to talk to a walking dead man’s piss rag.”

Like the weasel he was, Gomayn stumbled up and scurried away. However, Arepa followed him, shoved him into a training room, and pushed him against the wall. Like she’d done when he grabbed her hair, she planted her foot on his neck.

“Talk!” Arepa demanded. “You obviously know something. If you don’t talk, I’ll kill you right now.”

Still wheezing, and still laughing, Gomayn leered at Arepa. “Blow me first.”

Arepa removed her foot from Gomayn’s neck and ruthlessly stomped it on his groin instead. There were no more laughs after that, only high-pitched squeals. So this was the satisfaction Gohan felt, huh?

She kept her foot pressed there too, forcing herself to resist killing him. “Speak the fuck up!”

“F-Frieza knows…” Gomayn finally wheezed as Arepa slowly removed her foot with wide eyes. “About Gohan’s little stunt on Planet Wagyu!”

“Planet what ?!” Arepa asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t play dumb! I...I heard in the Galactic Patrol about Gohan staging an unauthorized attack on Wagyu,” Gomayn wheezed, to Arepa’s bewilderment. “He killed a Galactic Patrolman and destroyed the planet!”

“What?! When was this?!” Arepa demanded, wondering if Gohan possibly attacked it in lieu of Planet Mamba.

“Before his little zoo fight with Vegeta. I told Frieza, so he looked into it!” 

“Bullshit!”

“Bullshit!”

Planet Wagyu?! Gohan had never heard of that planet in his life. And killing a Galactic Patrolman? He’d only even seen one in his entire time with Frieza. Nothing added up.

“Don’t play dumb,” Dodoria said, his repugnant smile growing in width. “A little birdy told us about a Saiyan attacking it. Description fit your profile.”

A Saiyan…?

Gohan gasped when he realized it. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud. Vegeta…

“Once Frieza heard about that, he thought a test of your loyalty was necessary just to confirm the story.” Dodoria licked his lips as he cracked his knuckles. “A test that you failed!”

Faster than Gohan’s eyes could track, Dodoria’s fist cracked his jaw. He just barely managed to blast the ground to avoid crashing into it. His mind was an incoherent torrent, his focus divided amongst the fight, the bombshell dropped, and his rage towards Vegeta; this was exactly why he was adamantly against the full-blooded Saiyan’s plan.

Then again - Gohan effectively pulled the same shit with Mamba, motive be damned. But if Vegeta hadn’t gone rogue, Frieza would never have had a need to send him there.

With an indignant growl, Gohan chucked his scouter to the ground. Whether he lived or died, he had no use for it anymore. In a way, he felt liberated; no longer was he bound by Frieza. He was going to give everything he had as his own man.

A smoldering blue flame of aura exploded around Gohan as he pushed his Ki as high as he could. The entire planet beneath him shook, the pile of corpses flailing about as his power unchained itself. The gusts of wind even blew Dodoria back and forced him to shield his eyes. 

When Gohan was done powering up, he directed a glare of murder up at Dodoria. This was it: freedom or death.

He rocketed up and delivered a punch to Doodria’s bulbous jaw that caught the elite officer off guard. As Dodoria flew hundreds of feet back, Gohan blasted straight ahead of him at twice the speed. After spinning around, Gohan smashed both of his fists into the top of his head, feeling his spikes squish underneath them.

Before Dodoria could even finish his quick descent to the sandy surface, Gohan met him with a staggering knee right to the center of his stomach. Just a second before Dodoria could land, Gohan caught right back up to him. With all of the strength he could summon, he grabbed his pudgy arm and tossed him and all his weight into a cliff hundreds of feet away. It exploded into a cluster of rocks on impact.

Refusing to let up for even a microsecond, Gohan frantically charged his Ki and fired streams of blasts with a machine gun’s frequency. Hundreds upon hundreds of explosions leveled the planet to hell and back, filling the atmosphere with immense clouds of smoke.

Gohan’s outpouring of energy soon caught up to him, so relented to catch his breath. As he wiped his throbbing forehead and sucked wind, he carefully observed the smoke as it traveled through the sky. He betrayed a small chuckle; no way in hell was it enough, but damned if that hadn’t felt good.

As the smoke settled, Gohan could make out that familiar, round figure. He used his acute vision to focus harder, studying Dodoria's state. 

Once he got that clear look, his breath ran thin.

There was Dodoria, floating amongst the wreckage with his fists squeezed and his unsightly face twisted into an even uglier scowl. His armor was banged up and missing a few shoulder pads, sure; otherwise, though? He didn’t even appear phased.

"D-Dammit…" Gohan hissed through his teeth.

Dodoria released a horrific growl, clearly not expecting such power from the boy. Steam practically shot out of his nose. “Filthy brat! I’LL KILL YOU!”

He met Gohan in a flash. Too frazzled to move, Gohan took a prickly elbow to his nose. Even as he flew back, however, the half-Saiyan tenaciously brushed off his throbbing nose and came right back. He tried punching Dodoria right in his ugly face to get back at him—but he was blocked. A kick met the same result.

The two warriors traded blows at thunderous pace. Even while unsuccessful, the sheer force of Gohan's attacks shook the planet with shockwaves. But Dodoria cut the exchange short simply by swinging his leg up and kicking Gohan’s jaw. The half-Saiyan didn’t even have time to spit out blood from the inside of his cheek before Dodoria took pursuit.

Relying on his speed, Gohan flew back and led Dodoria into a wild chase. An enormous cliff forced him to stop; Dodoria met him moments later and thrust his prominent pink ball of knuckles into his face. By the skin of his teeth, Gohan jumped out of the way and let Dodoria’s fist smash the entire rocky fortress to pieces. A cold sweat broke from Gohan’s temple at the sight of such a display of power. Hell only knew what would have become of him had it landed.

But there was no rest for the weary. After another skyward ascent, Gohan fired a lethal Ki wave; Dodoria vanished from its trajectory. The boy could only growl irritably while observing the victimless detonation. In his frustration, he didn't even notice Dodoria phase in right behind him; only his gravelly laughter alerted Gohan of his presence. And by then, he had no time to avoid the forearm that smashed the back of his head.

After a crash that submerged him in dust. Gohan sprang right back up for more even as his ears rang like an alert of his futility. Contempt filled him as he focused on Dodoria and rocketed to the sky. He landed a kick to his disfigured face with nearly all his might, jolting him backwards. When he caught up, Gohan rained down with debilitating hit after debilitating hit, giving his large opponent not even an inch. But Dodoria simply turned himself into a spear and dove his spiky cranium into Gohan’s to end it all. 

Though Gohan bounced back and went for another punch, Dodoria leaped to the side with figure-defying grace and grabbed his arm. He hooked it behind the half-breed's back and wrapped his large arm around his neck, locking him in a chokehold. Gohan tried to squirm out of Dodoria's iron grip while gasping for air, but it was no use.

In complete control, Dodoria flipped upside down with a grin of malice while Gohan shook in his grip, spiraling down to the ground with a laser’s speed. Moments before they hit the surface, Dodoria let Gohan go and flew out the way; the pre-teen crashed head-first into the ground like a Saiyan meteor — he even left a small crater in his wake. 

Almost as if it feared his presence, the smoke settled once Dodoria landed. The rotund demon approached Gohan at a snail’s pace, stopping just short of the small crater he was stuck in. With triumphantly folded arms, he observed his fine work; the only thing on Gohan moving was his shaggy mane against the wind.

"I guess that's all you had in ya, monkey boy. Time to finish the job." Dodoria raised his glowing hand above Gohan’s body. "Now, burn in he-"

Before he could even get his last word out, Gohan sat up from the rigid surface and blasted Dodoria right in his smug face to send him away. With ragged breaths, he got up on one knee and ignored the blood pouring down his face from that open wound on his head. The fight had left him feeling like he’d been in multiple pod crashes;, his body more a mess of bones than anything of use. After shielding his eyes from the explosion triggered by Dodoria's collision with a faraway mountain, Gohan staggered up to both feet.

To Gohan’s horror, Dodoria returned in record time. A hideous burn simmered between his unhinged eyes. "You impudent little monkey…I am going to beat you until you're unrecognizable!" Punctuating his threat, a burst of explosive aura.

Swallowing heavy, Gohan shakily stepped back. Dammit…Dodoria's a tank…I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

But even as Dodoria powered up, Gohan just shook off his bleak thoughts and assumed a fighting stance. Who cared if he was outmached? If Vegeta had taught him anything, it was to fight until the very end.

As he prepared another attack, he lamented Arepa and Kiyomi’s fates. If he died there, Arepa would be thrown to the wolves, an enemy of Cui and that creepy little bastard Gomayn.

And Kiyomi? She enabled his and Vegeta’s deception. Zarbon would point the finger of blame at her without hesitation.

But that was why he had to fight.

Even overcome with pain, Gomayn kept laughing. “You’re lucky Frieza sees you as innocent or else he’d be sending you off with him to get killed by Dodoria,” he hatefully spat, rubbing his sore privates. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but screw it.”

A smoldering wave of horror hit Arepa as she backed away from Gomayn. Sure, Frieza may have been mistaken about Planet Wagyu - but Gomayn had just informed her that he knew Gohan had lied about Planet Mamba. But she didn’t want to believe the sky falling in front of her.

 “N-no, you’re lying! Frieza won’t kill Gohan! He needs the Saiyans around!”

“D-don’t make me laugh,” Gomayn spat. “It wouldn’t be the first time Frieza’s killed a Saiyan or two million.”

“What?!”

“Y-You find out a few things in the Galactic Patrol,” Gomayn snickered. “Frieza blew all those monkeys up and kept Vegeta around to be his little Jolly Chimp!”

Though Arepa wasn’t a Saiyan herself, she understood from being around them how much shit they went through. Hearing the truth left her disgusted . All she could think about was Gohan, a boy plucked away to help fight the battle of a man who had been fed a lie.

“N-No...you’re still lying,” Arepa said, refusing to believe Gohan’s head was in the guillotine.

“Don’t believe me? Just wait ‘til Kiyomi gets here,” Gomayn said. “Zarbon figures she’s been in on you and Gohan’s bullshit.”

Arepa just stood there, quivering anxiously. Her strength left her knees as she stammered, trying to find words but coming up empty. Gomayn slowly got back up, placing his hand against the wall to assist himself.

“So go ahead, try and stop things and get yourself killed. I’ll miss that body of yours, but I’ll live,” Gomayn taunted. “Or you can sit down and shut up like all of these other losers here and do your job. Hell, maybe one day I’ll let you in bed with me.”

Forgetting all of her fears and focusing only on the slithery, spiky-haired snake in front of her, Arepa punched Gomayn in the face; after he fell, she stomped on his neck. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it finally shut him the hell up.

Arepa rushed away from the room and into she and Gohan’s sleeping quarters, shutting the door and frantically pushing her scouter.

“Gohan! Gohan!”

No answer.

She tried another contact next.

“Kiyomi! Are you there?!”

Again, no answer. That left only one other person. She just hoped she had the right scouter info. Her breathing intensified as she scrolled through. Even reading the damn thing was a chore thanks to tears moistening her vision.

“Vegeta?!”

A delay.

“Who the hell’s this? Gohan’s girlfriend?”

“No, I-” Why the hell did she care to clarify that? “Whatever. I need your help. Gohan…” She could hardly even say it. “Gohan’s about to be killed.”

“How’s that my problem? If he can’t handle whatever planet you two are on, that’s his own damn fault.”

“You don’t get it! Frieza’s having him killed!”

A pause.

“That’s...ridiculous. As twisted as it is, that bastard favors us. We get away with plenty.” Arepa shut her eyes and shook her head while her eyes spilled waterfalls. “At worst, that boy’s got a helluva punishment waiting for him.”

“It’s not that simple, Vegeta. Frieza doesn’t give a shit about any of you.” Arepa wiped off her eyes. “I...I don’t want to tell you, but…”

“But what , girl?! I’m about to cut you off!”

“Frieza…”

“...destroyed your home planet. It wasn’t his bullshit story about a meteor. He did it, and he’s gonna kill Gohan next.”

When the girl’s words reached Vegeta’s ears, his jaw sank. The entire world around him spun into a swirl. Raditz and Nappa stood across from him, moving their mouths with puzzled looks on their faces. But he couldn’t hear anything they were saying. Hell, Arepa had called his name a few times and it just rang like empty static.

Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta?

Not a meteor, but Frieza?

And Prince Vegeta IV, heir to the Saiyan throne and thought to be the second coming of the legendary Super Saiyan, had fallen for the story, hook, line, and sinker? Swallowed his pride, put his head down, and slaved on his hands and feet for the very man who destroyed his race?

Prince Vegeta... a complete and utter disgrace.

“VEGETA!” Arepa finally shouted, her voice cracking from how loud she’d gotten.

“Yes?” Vegeta replied, stuck on autopilot.

“Listen...they know everything about Kiyomi and how she was coverin’ up planets. I know about Planet Mamba but they mentioned some Planet Whack-Off or whatever,” Arepa explained. Vegeta’s perpetually slanted eyes bursted out.

“Gohan told me she was helping you guys out. Was that a planet you hit?”

“W-Wagyu,” Vegeta corrected, still speaking mechanically. “Yes.”

“S-so you guys are in it, too. That little bitch Gomayn pinned it on Gohan but it can get back to you too.” Vegeta could hear her whimpers and dry heaves over the transmission. “ Look, I don’t know what the hell to do. Gohan’s gonna be killed, Kiyomi’s heading over here right now and she’s probably gonna die too...I just…”

“Gohan…” Vegeta weakly interrupted.

The boy, once the whining little crybaby Raditz had dragged into their crew. Vegeta had personally taken the boy's survival into his hands, whipping him into a warrior worthy of the Saiyan race and even marveling at his potential. The boy had grown bold enough to even defy and possibly surpass him in power. As a Saiyan, it infuriated him. But as the man who trained Gohan and took him in as the closest thing he had to a son...he couldn't help but admire it.

Was he really about to let him get killed?

For his crime? One Gohan himself had warned him about - and he responded by trying to beat him within an inch of his life?

No.

“Vegeta, please,” Arepa said, her voice wrought with desperation. 

Vegeta squeezed his fist. His brows arched into the most hateful glare of his entire life.

“I will handle this.”

Vegeta didn’t just shut his scouter off. He yanked it from his ear and crushed it into pieces, startling Nappa and Raditz.

“What the hell’s going on, Vegeta?” Raditz asked.

It was in a moment of molten anger that Vegeta was truly able to focus. Outwardly, he actually appeared calm; unsettlingly so. But Nappa and Raditz shivered at the black shadow that overtook Vegeta’s already dark eyes.

“Raditz. Nappa. Use your signal jammers to disable every scouter on this base.”

“Uh, sure,” Nappa stammered. He and Raditz were still lost on what Vegeta had heard over his scouter. All they knew was that when Vegeta got that look, bad things followed. With his foot, the Prince of a murdered warrior race swiped away what was left of his scouter.

“We’re gonna burn this place to the fucking ground.”

Arepa paced back and forth at the base’s docks, ignoring all of the passerby soldiers who looked at her like a mental patient. The more arrivals that weren’t Kiyomi came by, the more anxious she grew. Her eyes were red, her hair was a mess, and her face was drenched in sweat.

Another pod arrived, and when a blue beauty with green hair emerged from its door, Arepa froze. It was Kiyomi, and by the time she made it to the door, Arepa jumped in front of her.

“Kiyomi! I’ve been trying to reach you!” Arepa said, panting. “You can’t go in there!”

“Because Zarbon suspects what I’ve been up to with the Saiyans and plans to torture the information out of me?” Kiyomi replied, to Arepa’s surprise. “You don’t think I came prepared?”

“Then why the hell aren’t you escaping?!”

“I don’t run from anything,” Kiyomi replied with a thousand-yard stare. “I made my bed, so I’m either gonna fix it or let it smother me. If I fled, they’d immediately know the Saiyans were up to something and go after them.”

“They already know,” Arepa said, choking on her words.

“What do you mean?”

“They sent Gohan off to be killed and he doesn’t even know it!”

“ What? ” Kiyomi shouted, her typically smooth demeanor shaken. “How do they…?! Does Vegeta…?!”

Having an idea of everything Kiyomi incoherently attempted to ask, Arepa nodded. “I told Vegeta. He said he’d handle it. He seemed...off.”

Feeling assured, Kiyomi cracked her knuckles and smirked. “So then we’ll leave all of that to them. I guess it’s good Lemo made a weapon for me, huh?”

“And Frieza left a couple hours ago, too.”

“Even better.”

As Kiyomi stormed past her and swung the door open, Arepa couldn’t help but swoon at her bravery. She clumsily ran after her to join her march to fate, feeling an injection of valor. 

“Don’t do anything rash,” Kiyomi advised. She clicked her scouter. “Scouter! Stream video to the scouter assigned to Soldier Arepa!”

Arepa blinked in surprise. She almost never used that voice function, nor the video.

Kiyomi turned her face to Arepa’s. “I’m going alone. Lay low. You’ll know if shit goes south.” 

On that message, Kiyomi walked away, prepared to face a man she once admired and now despised. She thought back to that first day, when that wide-eyed half-Saiyan first stumbled into the lab while she and Lemo worked on a space pod. Why had she been so nice to Gohan? Was it the innocence in his face? Or did she always hope the Saiyans would be the ones to lead an uprising? It sure would explain why ever since that day, she played the increasingly dangerous game of helping Gohan and the Saiyans bend the rules—even if it started off with Lemo clumsily revealing a secret.

Now, that toddler was a teenager carrying a lifetime’s worth of pain. She wouldn’t let him down.

She pulled out a smoke, lit it with a flame from her finger, and took a drag like she’d never enjoy one again. With it still in her mouth, she opened the doors to the room where her scouter traced Zarbon. The smug officer had been standing in the center expectantly, his arms folded while his face sported that smile she’d grown to loathe.

“Greetings, Kiyomi.”

Kiyomi replied with a smooth flow of blue smoke and a scowl. 

“How long have I known that beautiful face of yours?” Zarbon cupped his chin. “A couple of decades, right? Seems like just yesterday when we were sneaking around together behind military bases.”

More smoke. And a long eye-roll.

“The things we did with nobody around.” His crass grin defied his demure facade. “You miss those days, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“As cold as ever,” Zarbon snickered. “But all that’s in the past, where it should be. Do you know why you’re here right now?”

With her teeth pressed firmly against her cig, Arepa heaved a hazy sigh. “Please, educate me.”

Zarbon laughed, knowing her well enough to suspect she was gaming with him. “What do you know of Planet Wagyu and Planet Mamba?”

“They’re planets with names?”

Laughter rising, Zarbon methodically approached Kiyomi. He snatched the cig from her mouth and placed it in his own, enjoying the drag too much for her liking.

“I know it’s difficult for you, but don’t play cute with me,” Zarbon said through cluttered clouds of smoke. “Why was an unassigned world marked as a Galactic Patrol hotspot destroyed, and why did Gohan so boldly spare Planet Mamba and assume it would go unnoticed? Could his actions on the former have informed the latter?”

Genuinely surprised, Kiomi breathed a light gasp that devolved into sardonic chuckles. So they thought Gohan purged Planet Wagyu, huh? And a Galactic Patrolman was on the planet? She knew Vegeta’s shady operations would blow up so soon, but she didn’t think it would happen so quickly or that she’d have made such a glaring oversight.

Or that Gohan would be the one taking the fall.

“Why are you laughing, Kiyomi? Does all this info ring a bell?”

“No. I’m laughing at how stupid you look trying to smoke.”

With a petulant scowl, Zarbon swiped the cig from his mouth and tossed it to the floor. He stomped his foot on it, rubbing away until all of its ashy remains were scrubbed. Kiyomi’s eye twitched; what a waste of a smoke.

“I know how much that pet monkey clings to you,” Zarbon sneered. “I never could prove that you helped him flee to that planet all those years ago, but I know. I know you taught him a few tricks, too. Always did wonder why I had trouble eavesdropping on his and Vegeta’s scouters.”

“So is this what it is then? Tossing my name in the conspiracy hat because you don’t know how to fix your shitty scouter?”

Zarbon slapped her across the face, whipping her head to the side. The sound reverberated through the room, as sharp on the ear drums as the smack was to Kiyomi’s cheek. He squeezed her chin and forced her to face him—she met him with a fierce glare, unfettered from the slap.

“You know, and you’ll talk until I know everything.” Zarbon clenched her jaw harder.

“Not...yet…” Kiyomi hissed through her teeth. She hadn’t just been speaking to Zarbon.

Annoyed, Zarbon shoved her to the floor. “You’re lucky Frieza’s gone, because he wouldn’t be as kind. And he’d employ far more gruesome methods than I to make you talk. Only a gentleman like myself is fit to handle you.”

When she saw the twisted smile that spread across Zarbon’s lips while he brushed his hand through his hair, Kiyomi briefly lost her ability to move.

“So let’s say I give you a little refresher of our old favorite pastime together? I’m sure it will jog your memory.”

Going on instinct, Kiyomi kicked her foot out and tripped Zarbon. With well-honed speed, Kiyomi jumped up and retrieved a gun from her breastplate. She fired.

By the time the blast left the gun, Zarbon’s hand was engraved through her armor, through her flesh, and into her stomach.

Zarbon cackled as he stood on one knee, having expertly evaded her last-ditch attack. Blue blood spilled onto his hand; some of it even got on his face courtesy of Kiyomi’s gargled coughs.

“Stay with me, my dear,” Zarbon said as he withdrew his hand. When she fell, he grabbed her hair while she desperately gasped for air. “If Gohan’s not dead already, he will be. Frieza may see it differently, but I want his whole pack dead with him. And you know enough to make that happen. So you better start talking.”

Through her hazy vision, Kiyomi saw Zarbon’s wicked face twice over. She cursed her resilience; it sure would have been great if she had just keeled over and died at that very moment. When Zarbon got back up on both feet, he dragged her towards a door in the back of the room. He lifted his hand to open it…

When Dodoria returned from another attack, he was even angrier than before; Gohan didn’t think that was even possible. He blasted the boy in his arm, tearing the fabric of his suit and burning his skin raw. Wrapping both of his hands around Gohan’s ears, Dodoria repeatedly smashed his face into his skull. Rage faded into to sadistic glee when Dodoria caught the sight of Gohan’s blood trickling down his head.

He pulled Gohan's head back and studied his face. His eyes were glazed over, distant. His mouth desperately sucked for air. Cuts, bruises, and swelling painted the canvas of his young face.

"Any last words, kid?”

Gohan lifted his hand up and used Dodoria’s own arm to prop it up to his eye level. He did have a last word, actually - his middle finger, delivered with a toothy, broken smile.

Dodoria hissed spit into Gohan’s face and squeezed his cranium like a grapefruit. Utterly fed up with his defiance, Dodoria doubled Gohan’s entire body over to smash his face into his knee, and slammed him out of his grip and into the ground with his fists.

Gohan's landing was his hardest yet. Before he even had a chance to crawl, what felt like a half-ton slammed into his back and crushed him so horrible his eyes nearly popped out of his head. A blood-curdling scream escaped his lips as he desperately clung to consciousness.

A replay of a day eight years earlier flooded Gohan’s brainwaves. When Zarbon suspected Kiyomi and Lemo were behind his empty escape attempt and brought Gohan out to watch them pay with their blood. Lemo had lost his foot that day, and Gohan struck Dodoria for it. Dodoria responded just as he was now, knocking Gohan down and crushing him with his weight.

And here he was again, suffering for the same thing on a far larger scale. And Kiyomi was sure to get even worse. What the hell was wrong with him? Was this what Vegeta had been talking about? Was this where caring about people got him?

 It didn’t matter to him what colors he wore; whether it was navy blue & green, or Frieza’s purple & gold, Gohan truly was soft. And that softness wrought about the collapse of everything.

Just like in the past, Dodoria leaped into the sky and slammed down on Gohan with twice as much force, cackling with joy at the sound of Gohan’s feeble bones breaking.

And he jumped right back up and did it again. Gohan couldn’t even feel the lower half of his body anymore. As Dodoria finally relented and stood above him, he bit down on his bottom lip; his body begged to shut down and relieve itself from the agony; yet he wouldn’t allow it.

Dodoria kicked Gohan's arm; to his amusement, it had no give whatsoever. "Y’know, I never did pay you back for that little stunt of yours." 

Dodoria kicked Gohan in the stomach to roll him over onto his back, laughing at the blood and spit that stained his mouth from screaming. Even better, he could see the wheels spinning in Gohan’s head as he realized what he meant.

“Frieza might’ve lit ‘em up, but I want my receipt!”

Though he tried, Gohan couldn’t get his body to move while Dodoria circled around him like a shark. Anything but this. Dodoria stopped when he was standing in front of Gohan’s feet.

He lifted one foot and raised it up. He lifted the other.

With force that could be summoned only by a savage with the combination of size and power he possessed, Dodoria cocked his foot back and gruesomely slammed it into Gohan’s groin. Gohan screamed louder than he ever had in his entire life, a high voltage of agony surging even through parts of his body he couldn’t feel anymore. Tears of pain filled his eyes.

Gohan’s body flopped around like a fish. He wanted to die. 

He wouldn’t. Even still, he didn’t even pass out.

"Much better,” Dodoria said, letting go of Gohan’s feet and dusting off his hands like he’d just finished a productive double shift. “Well, brat, I don’t see much use for your life anymore. It’s just a shame you had to put up such an annoying ass fight.”

In Gohan’s vision, Dodoria was only a pink blob moving to his arm. 

The blob lifted his foot again. "This would have been…"

When Dodoria slammed his foot down on Gohan’s forearm and shattered all of its bones, the half-Saiyan didn’t even have enough strength in his vocal cords to scream. He just gasped.

"… SO MUCH easier ," he continued, removing his foot, "If you just would have surrendered and let me blast you to dust after I destroyed your space pod. Just quick and painless. You know how much I hold grudges.”

As his arm twitched, Gohan’s vision faded in and out. The stream of tears leaving his black eyes were no longer merely of agony, but anguish. He couldn’t believe this was how it was all going to end.

What a waste his life had been. Eight years of willingly going along with servitude forced upon him in the name of an unreachable goal. Eight years of blood, sweat, and tears. Eight years of commiting unspeakable atrocities because he was too much of a fucking coward to walk away and train on his own even with the shadow of danger casting down on him.

Dodoria crushed his other arm. By that point, he hardly even felt it.

He should’ve just let the Dragon zap him back to Earth when he had the chance. He and his dad would’ve figured out the rest. That was when his only kills were out of self-defense.

Instead, he was dying like this, as Son Gohan, just another of Frieza’s many monsters who got exactly what he deserved, then discarded like common filth. Worse yet, he was going to get Kiyomi and probably Arepa killed. And Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz? They were either going to rot or get got, too.

Eight years for nothing. He’d never even see his mother, his father, or his former planet ever again. What a joke.

Before Zarbon got his hand on the door handle as he dragged Kiyomi, his scouter went off rapidly. As soon as he reacted, a succession of blasts assaulted his back.

As Zarbon fell, Kiyomi found the strength to turn around. Even though she had expected something to go down, she couldn’t contain her shock.

It was Arepa, alright. And she wasn’t alone. A slew of armored Frieza Force soldiers were behind her and hungry for blood.

“What the…?”

With her feisty smile, Arepa shrugged. “A girl can’t spread some doomsday stories and sprinkle in some nasty promises she definitely won’t follow through on?”

“Hey, wait-!”

Arepa squeezed the mouth of the protesting squid-like alien standing to her right. “Nope, too late!” 

She lifted the other finger and pointed at Zarbon.

“GET ‘IM, BOYS!”

A stampede of angry soldiers, with Arepa in front, stormed at Zarbon and attacked. Blasts, fists, feet - nothing was off the table. While Zarbon fought them off, Arepa grabbed Kiyomi and got her away from the fracas. When she saw the wound from her stomach, she removed her armor and gasped.

“Cripes!”

“Th-That bad, huh?” Kiyomi stammered.

“Not just the wound, that rack!” Arepa replied, marveling at Kiyomi’s body beneath her tank top. “You’re givin’ me major tits envy, here.”

Despite the blood loss fading her consciousness, Kioymi’s eyes were wide open. “Are...are you just always like this?!”

Arepa yanked off both of Kiyomi’s black stockings, ignoring her incredulous stare. After tearing them open, she wrapped them around Kiyomi’s waist to cover her wound and stop her bleeding.

“But seriously...how did you pull this off?!” Kiyomi asked.

“You reminded me of the video function, so I just spread some footage of Gomayn sayin’ Gohan was on the plank and said it’s gonna happen to a bunch of us,” Arepa explained.

“S-Smart move.”

Zarbon blasted the dozens of soldiers away with his energy, collapsing the room’s walls in the process. His sights remained set on Kiyomi, but all of the scabs kept thwarting him. The chaos caught the attention of other soldiers; they flooded the halls to see what was going on. With Gohan and Vegeta’s brawl still fresh on their minds, they wondered what the hell was going on next.

When Zarbon glared at all of the rubberneckers in warning, they buckled. They could read his command just from his eyes: “End this, or die.”

They complied, attacking some of the revolting  soldiers. Brawls ensued through every hall, some wanting to be on Frieza’s side and others deciding to hell with everything. Walls were ripped apart. Healing tanks and other technology were toppled over. Blasts ripped through the ceiling and lit up even the darkest of corridors. Years of pent up anger among Frieza’s soldiers poured out.

While Zarbon observed the chaos, Arepa sneaked up and violently kicked the bag of his leg. His scouter had been knocked off when he was jumped, leaving him vulnerable to a sneak attack. As Zarbon howled in pain, Arepa blasted him through a wall; he landed in the mess hall and crashed into the freezer. Pounds of gooey, rotting remains from livestock spilled on his body, assaulting his nose with a rancid stench and his skin with cold bile. 

As he shook off the gunk, Zarbon arose with indescribable rage towards the smiling girl floating away from him. Arepa put her dukes up, knowing she was fighting a losing battle but not caring.

Zarbon met her in a flash, grabbed her by her collar, and slammed his head into her’s. He blasted her away like yesterday’s garbage, uninterested in maintaining Frieza’s base; she collided with a wall that fell on top of her. After she tossed it away, she limped back up and tried to blast Zarbon—it hit, but did little to hurt him. 

In a panic, she flew away, but by the time she looked up, Zarbon had already been ahead of her.

In her luck, a yellow-skinned soldier sneaked up on Zarbon and fisted a handful of his prized green mane. With him distracted, she threw all of her weight at his damaged leg and seized him to the floor. As he rolled around, Arepa kicked him up into the air and blasted him with all of her might. Zarbon flew across the hall and collided with one of the scurrying soldiers.

“THAT’S IT! ” Zarbon shouted as he stood up and kicked the soldier away. “ Everyone here is dead!”

Zarbon cleared the hallway with a fearsome blast. The other casualties were immaterial; its target was Arepa. The fiery teen raised her forearms to block it, but the sheer force singed her forearms. By the time she regained her bearings, Zarbon phased in front of her. A smile devoid of sanity etched across his face, Zarbon punched her in the stomach enough times with both hands to pay her back for her madness with interest.

Every last punch made Arepa feel like her ribs were going to collapse; a bone broke here, a bone broke there. When Zarbon lifted her by her hair, it was the only way she could stand up. She looked down at his cocked-back fist; a bright blue energy burst around it.

“D-Dammit,” Arepa spat through her teeth.

“So long, brat!”

Arepa shut her eyes, bracing for the final blow.

Zarbon thrust his fist, but doubled over with a harsh scream before he could land it. Arepa opened her eyes when she fell to the floor and looked to her left—Kiyomi stood, one hand clutching her waist and the other holding a smoking laser gun. When Arepa saw Zarbon clutching the same leg she’d assaulted, she put two and two together.

Injured, incensed, and insane, Zarbon limped back up, heavily favoring that leg. But even as he struggled to stand, Kiyomi quivered in fear at his eyes. She’d seen that look when he fought on their home planet; nobody had ever survived that manic stare.

The point of his good knee slammed into Kiyomi’s wounded abdomen before she could react. Blood spilled from her mouth and onto Zarbon’s armor. All of her strength gone, she crumbled to the floor.

“Foolish bitch,” Zarbon sneered. He stomped on her wrist, smirking at her loud shrieks. “I will savor every last second of killing you! It’s been a long time coming!”

Zarbon settled his eyes on Arepa. “And you , you meddlesome little pest.”

Letting Kiyomi off the hook for the moment, Zarbon blasted a few soldiers away and kicked Arepa in her nose, instantly breaking it. Feebly, she tried sitting up; with the blood spilling from her nostrils, she couldn’t grasp her surroundings. She shuddered as Zarbon made his slow march towards her.

“The real tragedy in all this is I won’t be able to kill Gohan myself,” Zarbon said, undoing his hair and stretching his wrists. “How about I picture you as him? You’re wearing his old colors, after all.”

With every step Zarbon took, Arepa’s breathing ran heavier. It was the grim reaper approaching her, if the grim reaper prioritized beauty sleep and hair cair. In her last moments, she didn’t see her life flash before her eyes. She could only think of the reason for this all: Gohan. What was he going through? Had he been killed? Was she going to see him again in the after life? Every question led her to unyielding sadness. 

She resolved to just think of nothing. Just let it happen. It would all be over soon. So she just focused on Zarbon’s rising hand.

And the violent tremor that just shook the foundation of the entire base.

And the boom sound.

And the other tremor. That one knocked Zarbon over. He, Kiyomi, Arepa, and everyone else in the anarchic battleground that used to be the base stopped what they were doing to look around. A few scouters exploded.

Suddenly, the entire roof of the facility was yanked off like a trashcan’s lid. Looking through the hole where it used to be?

Two apes about 50 feet tall, clad in the same armor as everyone below, looming down with snarling teeth and blood red eyes.

And a tail-less, flame-haired Saiyan who flew down and landed in the middle of the chaos.

“Greetings, Zarbon.”

Chapter Text

Zarbon shook with terror at Vegeta's stoic gaze. Though the Saiyan's prince's eyes were calm, his fingers twitched in bloodthirsty anticipation. He, Nappa, and Raditz had torn apart the last planet they were on, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he took out one of the main enforcers of the lie he'd been fed for most of his life.

"V-Vegeta!" Zarbon yelled.

"So this is what happens when you don't have Frieza holding your hand, huh?"

Vegeta quickly took note of the wounded leg Zarbon heavily favored. Behind him, he saw Arepa sitting up with her jaw sunken and snorted a laugh. If she was the one behind all of the madness, then it looked like he was wrong to deem her as Gohan's deadweight.

"Fool!" Zarbon spat. "I was just about to finish things off before you and your monkey pack showed up. All you've done is give me a few more corpses to clean up!"

Vegeta swung his head back and laughed, as did the two gigantic Apes that were Nappa and Raditz. "I'm still new to this energy sensing thing, but even Raditz is probably stronger than you as a Great Ape."

With the way Zarbon sweat and grimaced at the two apes, he knew it, too.

"Hell, I'd bet I've closed the gap between us," Vegeta boasted, folding his arms. "That Galactic Patrolman gave me a hell of a scare and I'm even better for it."

Zarbon raised a confused eyebrow. "Galactic Patrolman?"

It hit him a second later.

"Wait a minute, that was you?!"

"Correct." Vegeta smirk curled into a frown. "I've always known Frieza was holding us back with those lousy missions he assigned. I've tried getting stronger in the shadows to work my way towards freedom."

A vein in Vegeta's forehead swelled as he lowered his fists. Abject hate painted his face. "But now that I know he wiped out my planet, I have no reason to keep playing his game!"

Before Zarbon could express his surprise, Vegeta launched him into the sky with a kick to his chin. He took off after him, fist glowing with a raging Ki.

"You knew, didn't you?!"

When Vegeta took a powerful swing, Zarbon just barely got his hands up to block it. The sheer heat singed his palms, however, leaving him grimacing with harsh sweats. Even still, he toothily smirked at Vegeta and his righteous fury.

"N-not only did I know, I had a front row seat!" With a burst of energy, he blew Vegeta away from him. "You should've been one of the many fireworks that day!"

With a ferocious growl, Vegeta pulled his arms back and unleashed a massive Ki wave, ready to finish Zarbon off right then and there for rubbing in his loss. Though Zarbon dove out of the way, he was soon smacked down by Nappa's large, furry hand.

Vegeta met Zarbon back on the ground, breathing raggedly under the flame of his wrath. Zarbon had fallen on that same injured knee, so Vegeta targeted it like a predator. Swiftly, he slammed it with his elbow and punched Zarbon in the face.

When Zarbon got back up, he wiped away blood and laughed. "So this is what it's come down to? The proud Prince needs to rely on his pet gorillas?"

Though he cocked his arm back to deliver another attack, Vegeta stopped himself; a nerve had been successfully struck. In his lapse, he didn't see a loyal bird-like soldier make a dash for him and took a blow to the face for his trouble. It didn't knock him down, however, and when he regained his bearings he cut the man clean in half with a mere swipe. Ignoring the blood that spewed onto his attire, Vegeta looked up at his gargantuan subordinates.

"Nappa! Raditz! Stand down and focus on these other idiots! Spare the pods and the two females if you can help it!" Vegeta lowered his head towards his primary target. "Zarbon's mine."

Granted, Nappa in his ape form was stronger than both him and Zarbon, but Vegeta was never one to turn down a challenge. Zarbon laughed as he removed one of his arm bands.

"You're nothing if not predictable, Saiyan," he taunted as he assumed a fighting stance. "Always forgoing the smarter route so you can swing your fists around."

As Nappa and Raditz stomped around and smashed everything in sight, Vegeta narrowed his eyes at Zarbon. "Because I'm a real warrior, unlike you."

Before Zarbon lunged forward, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, it looks like you'll have an audience for your demise."

Vegeta turned his head and saw Arepa limping towards them with Kiyomi's arm slung around her neck. In all his time in the Frieza force, he'd never seen the older of the two in such rough shape. Her eyes were glazed over while her free arm clung to her bandaged waist.

"Don't even think about jumping in," Vegeta warned. Arepa looked at him like he'd gone mad - not because she balked at him going solo, but because why would she ever jump in a fight like that?

Zarbon dashed ahead, throwing a punch at Vegeta that only met air. The flame-haired warrior was focused, applying the sharpened senses he'd tuned from Gohan's advice and evading all of the many attacks Zarbon swung at him. With a piercing elbow, he knocked him into a mountain and met him seconds later. Salivating like a rabid dog, Vegeta drove his knee into his stomach and punched him again for good measure. After years of working like a slave and toeing the line around Zarbon, beating him around was true catharsis.

When Zarbon leapt away from another brutal kick, Vegeta just kept going. Not even the attacks Zarbon landed could deter him; he just came back and struck him even harder every time. Zarbon tried to fly away after Vegeta landed another hard kick to his ribs, but was grabbed by his leg and slung into the wreckage. In a move he usually saved for large crowds, Vegeta fired a flurry of Ki blasts down at him, killing any stray soldiers in the way.

When enough smoke from the explosions filled his lungs enough to tax his already rough breathing, Vegeta finally let up. Still, he laughed, satisfied with the destruction. Zarbon soon emerged from the dust and rubble sporting bruises all over his body. And yet, he laughed.

"Been beaten so badly you've gone insane?" Vegeta taunted.

"No, I'm just laughing at your impending death. This isn't the full extent of my power."

"Is that so? Don't make me laugh."

"It's no joke," Zarbon replied, running his hand through his hair. "I've kept my power hidden because I need a hideous transformation to unleash it. Unlike you brutish Saiyans, I don't take pride in such barbaric monstrosities."

"So you can transform like we do, huh?" Vegeta swung his head back and howled with laughter. "Well c'mon, then! Show us this supposed big bad form!"

"Is that true, Kiyomi?" Arepa asked.

"Y-Yeah," Kiyomi hoarsely replied. "It's our race's secret weapon. I don't know if Vegeta can handle it."

"You'd be wise to tremble in fear," Zarbon warned as he pulled his arms back. Vegeta kept smiling, observing him with his arms folded.

Suddenly, Zarbon's body nearly doubled in bulk, his smooth skin becoming scaly like a lizard's while the angelic face he smugly paraded around took a hideous turn. The elegant alien Vegeta had known all his life was now a hulking, reptilian ogre. Even he buckled in fear at him.

"What the hell?!" Vegeta shouted before the beast that was once Zarbon grabbed his head and smashed it with his own. Like a true brute, he laughed at the bruise he left and chucked him in the sky like trash. Even when Vegeta sped back at him, Zarbon just rammed his immense body weight into his diminutive frame. The Prince backed away coughing, his rib cage cracking on impact.

"Is that too much, Vegeta?" Zarbon asked from his unrecognizably gravelly voice."You were a fool to stage your little uprising!"

With a scowl, Vegeta wiped blood off of his forehead, still trying to process Zarbon's transformation and the frightening Ki it produced.

Zarbon flashed the fangs that now filled his mouth with a grin. "And take this with you when you rot in hell - Frieza can transform, too!"

"What?!"

Zarbon cackled at Vegeta's ghastly reaction. "Your dream of taking him down was always a piss in the wind! Congrats on wasting away your entire miserable life!"

Giving Vegeta no time to process his shock, Zarbon fired a massive blast. Though Vegeta jumped out of the way, Zarbon grabbed him by the black flames of his hair and tossed him into the ground, leaving a quake on impact. As soon as he landed, Zarbon stormed down with his knee into his gut; had it not been for his armor, the force might have impaled Vegeta.

With blood filling his esophagus, Vegeta reflected on his life. All the years he'd spent working on such a far-reaching goal and falling for a lie; working for the very people that destroyed his race. Was it all for naught?

Zarbon rubbed Vegeta's despair in, picking him by the collar of his armor and knocking the wind out of him with a punch to the sternum. When he let Vegeta go, he blasted him away before his feet could hit the ground.

Vegeta dug his fingers in the pavement, wincing as his body burned and tremored. Zarbon's monster form was more formidable than he'd ever imagined. If even he had been too much for Vegeta all along, how stupd was he to ever think he could go toe to toe with Frieza in his lifetime?

When Zarbon leered down at him with his newly hideous smile, Vegeta hissed hatefully through his teeth. In his head, he simply shouted No. He was the Prince of all Saiyans - no matter how large the obstacle, he would scale it.

At warp speed, Vegeta lifted his arm and blasted Zarbon in the face. Nimbly, he leaped up and blasted the bulbous leg that the beast still favored. And he kept firing, hoping the flurry would overwhelm him.

"Any time now!" Vegeta shouted at Nappa and Raditz.

Nappa was the first to answer the call, and with Zarbon fighting off the blasts, he took two giant steps and lowered his colossal boot onto him. By the skin of his teeth, he lifted his hands to stop Nappa's foot from crushing him. The weight was an immense strain on his muscles, however; he looked ready to burst at any moment.

Vegeta scowled - not because Zarbon still wasn't dead, but because he had to rely on Nappa and Raditz after previously turning them away. But years of putting up with Zarbon, Dodoria, and Frieza's nonsense had taught him that survival came before pride.

Giving Zarbon no chance to potentially overpower Nappa, Vegeta blasted his leg again. He slipped, falling on his back and allowing Nappa's foot to crush that same damaged limb. His screams of pain echoed through the entire planet.

"Serves you right!" Nappa yelled from his booming voice. He lifted his foot up and hovered it above Zarbon's quivering body to finish the job, but Vegeta waved him off.

"That'll do, Nappa!" Vegeta called. "He's beatable, now."

With most of Frieza's troops either dead or heading there, and the base all but destroyed, Nappa deemed his and Raditz's work done. He raised his palm to the ball of light in the sky and squeezed it into a fist. The light exploded, forcing everyone below to shield their eyes.

When the light faded, Nappa and Raditz were back to their normal selves, taking on the role of onlookers while Vegeta stalked towards his scaly, blue prey.

"Well now, looks like that leg of yours is all but useless," Vegeta said. Zarbon's left leg was bloody and withered, a mere chunk of meat attached to his waist. He tried standing, but could only stay on one foot.

"I...I can still fly!" Zarbon spat.

"Nonsense."

Vegeta phased in front of Zarbon and launched him back with a punch. He followed up with a fearsome blast and smashed his knee into that mangled leg as soon as he landed.

As Zarbon screamed his lungs out, his body shrunk back into his normal form. Vegeta laughed at a job well done.

"Guess you couldn't hold that transformation anymore," he observed, walking over to his pulsing figure. "Too bad an overgrown iguana can't hold a candle to a Great Ape."

"S-Simian trash…!" Zarbon scornfully spat. "Couldn't beat me without help!"

The harsh truth infuriating him, Vegeta growled and stomped his foot on Zarbon's leg. "As if you don't cling to Frieza like a child! You scum have held us Saiyans down too long for us to not fight back by any means necessary!"

Humoring Zarbon no longer, Vegeta raised his palm. "This was what Frieza was afraid of all along, wasn't he? The true power of the Saiyans?!"

As a bright glow overtook the Saiyan's hand, Zarbon quivered and reached his hand out. "Wait!"

Vegeta lowered his arm. "What, fool?"

"I...I've only been following orders..." From afar, Kiyomi snorted with disgust. "S-Spare me!"

Vegeta's eyes twitched manically while he stomped on the ground. "After you worked me like a slave and spat on us for years?!"

"If we joined forces, we can take Frieza down!"

After laughing at such an absurd notion, Vegeta raised his arm once more, ready to deliver the killing blow.

"Wait!"

That time it wasn't Zarbon, but his feminine counterpart. Kiyomi limped away from Arepa to join the two. Vegeta inquisitive gazed at her; he knew that she hated Zarbon more than even he could understand. She couldn't have been taking pity on one of her own, could she?

Actually, she didn't. She spat in Zarbon's face.

"Now you can kill him."

With an approving nod, Vegeta lowered his arm. Screw a blast - Kiyomi clearly wanted blood, and he would grant her that. He lifted his foot above the face Zarbon held so dearly and squashed it like a piece of pomelo. Kiyomi didn't look away.

With Zarbon taken care of, Vegeta took a deep breath and dusted himself off. Nappa and Raditz flew over and stretched their limbs.

"Good riddance to that prick," Nappa said.

Still reeling from her stab wound, Kiyomi crouched down to one knee. Vegeta approached her while she observed what was left of her former peer.

"Did you know?"

Kiyomi looked up. Vegeta's face was guarded, but she knew what subject he'd been asking of.

"Zarbon...implied it once, but I thought he was just talking shit," Kiyomi said. "I wasn't gonna open pandora's box on a hunch. How'd you find out, anyway?"

Vegeta motioned his head towards Arepa, who nodded. Confused, Kiyomi squinted at her.

"How did you find out?"

Arepa joined the crew, shaking her leg to restore some feeling. "That rat, Gomayn. Heard about it from the Galactic Patrol."

"What?!" Vegeta shouted.

Nappa rubbed his chin. "Who the hell's Gomayn, again?"

Raditz snapped his fingers. "Is he that brat that kinda looks like Gohan if he were green and had purple hair?"

Arepa had a good laugh at the observation. "Yeah. He's been infiltrating the Galactic Patrol for Frieza."

"So that's it, then," Vegeta said, as Nappa and Raditz gasped in realization. "Where the hell is that pest?"

"I didn't see him around anywhere," Nappa said.

Not even Kiyomi had been aware of Gomayn's connection with the Patrol. Even if a planet was marked as a Galactic Patrol hotspot, she wouldn't have paid it much mind since they steered clear of Frieza. But when one of Frieza's own was part of the crew? No wonder it blew up. As she reflected on her miscalculations, Vegeta grunted and walked past her.

"You were right."

Bemused, Kiyomi blinked. She assumed Vegeta had been talking to her; if that were the case, she didn't need to ask him what he was talking about. She nodded, acknowledging what she interpreted as a stoic apology.

"Why us?" Kiyomi asked. "You could've helped Gohan first."

Vegeta gazed at the sky for a few moments. "That kid is stronger than any of us can really understand. He can keep Dodoria busy for a while, at least."

Feeling more winded than he'd expected, Vegeta bent down and caught his breath. He glanced at the scouter still above his eye. "For whatever reason, someone on Cooler's side told me Frieza was off-world, so I headed here."

"Really?" Kiyomi asked, dumbfounded by such an occurrence.

Vegeta had been just as confused. But there was no use figuring it out. He stood back up and glanced back and forth between Kiyomi and Arepa, lingering on the younger girl in particular.

"Gohan's heart is fragile enough already; I don't need it broken going forward."

Both girls gawked confoundedly at the typically cold Saiyan Prince. Nobody could have even dared picture Vegeta as the paternalistic type. He looked away from them, clenching a single fist restlessly.

"Raditz, see if any high speed pods are still around," Vegeta said. Raditz nodded and flew towards the launch base, one of the few areas he and Nappa had spared in their rampage.

"Where are you going?" Kiyomi asked.

"Where do you think?" Vegeta dryly replied. He walked over to the corpse of that idiot who jumped in, picked up his green scouter, and slipped it on. "Whatever planet Gohan's on. I can track where his scouter was last located and go from there. And whether he's alive or dead, don't bother joining me unless you want to get in the way."

"Bullshit!" Arepa barked, earning a stern glare from Vegeta. She yelped and covered her mouth, exhaling to calm herself. "Look, I promised Gohan that if the time came to fight Frieza, I'd be there to help."

"And you can help him by staying alive," Vegeta replied. "This is a Saiyan's battle."

Arepa scoffed and opened her mouth to argue, but Kiyomi shooed her away.

"Vegeta's right," Kiyomi said. "And besides, this is Frieza we're dealing with. When Gohan defeats Dodoria, we'll be playing the long game if we plan on staying alive. You're best off training in the shadows."

Folding her arms with a huff, Arepa conceded her point. Kiyomi laughed and smiled at her.

"I know a few places. We can go together."

Arepa's eyes lit up. "Sweet! We'll be like big sis and li'l sis."

While Kiyomi winced, Vegeta rolled his eyes. Raditz called him through his scouter.

"Looks like there's still three high-speed pods," he said.

"Good." Vegeta turned to Kiyomi and Arepa. "The pods we arrived in are somewhere west. Tracking's already disabled. Take them and get out of here."

They both nodded. Arepa pulled Kiyomi up by her arm and slung it around her neck.

"One more thing," Vegeta said.

Kiyomi and Arepa stopped and turned towards him. He bore a smirk on his face, one more casual than typical of him.

"Can you turn into that hideous creature, too?"

Kiyomi snickered. "It comes in handy when I don't want ugly men flirting with me."

After an amused snort, Vegeta flew off, agonizing over their game plan moving forward. Maybe it was time to consider the validity of a story he'd once heard about a certain alien race…

After Arepa and Kiomi left, and after a few space pods flew off the planet, someone emerged from underneath a pile of concrete and wood. It was Gomayn, finally safe to retreat from his makeshift hideout. Still suffering from Arepa's assault to his throat, it hurt to even cough while he scoured through the trail of dead soldiers in search for a scouter that hadn't been damaged.

After nearly tripping over a blue one, he picked it up and pressed a few buttons. He opened his mouth, seeking strength for his vocal cords.

"Fr-Frieza…!"

Neither able to move his limbs or even feel them, Gohan just lay helplessly on the ground in wait for Dodoria's finishing blow. Deeming himself a failure who deserved his fate, he just wanted the pain to finally end.

Just as Dodoria lifted his arms, something caught his attention. He kicked Gohan again to roll him back over onto his stomach and placed his foot on his back.

"I suppose I oughta keep a souvenir to commemorate this occasion!"

Gohan groaned when he felt Dodoria grab his tail. He squeezed his eyes and mouth shut, forcing away his impulse to plead for mercy like a pathetic wimp. Getting beaten to a pulp was enough; getting humiliated and debased in his final moments left Gohan a disgrace.

With a simple tug of his arm, Dodoria ripped Gohan's tail from his back. Even though he couldn't feel his legs, Gohan certainly felt his most vulnerable limb torn away and squealed from the sharp stinging sensation. He kept his eyes closed, trying to force his consciousness. Without a tail, he wouldn't just die as a loser, he wouldn't even truly die as a Saiyan - only a weak Earthling.

"A real beauty, this thing is," Dodoria snickered, dangling it in his grip. "Might even use it as a whip for punishment. Lemme test it out!"

Placing the torturous cherry on top, Dodoria smacked Gohan's own tail across his back, taking what little was left of the boy's dignity. Fitting - a whipping started his thirst for revenge, and it would cut it short, too.

After chucking Gohan's furry appendage aside, Dodoria sighed. "Whelp, I'm bored. 'Bout time I really wrapped this sucker up."

He flipped Gohan around and hauled him up by his shaggy, frazzled hair. The teenage half-Saiyan was damn near a corpse already, his body nothing but limp dead weight. As he lifted his hand, Dodoria laughed and gathered his energy.

"Give your green buddy and the rest of Planet Mamba my regards in hell."

Gohan's bloodshot eyes whipped open.

"Wh-What?"

Dodoria laughed heartily at Gohan's mortified expression. "What did you think we did after you left, boy? We had a grunt stationed on the planet laying low and keeping track of you. When you left, he told us you deserted the mission. So I came in and cleaned up after you."

Time ceased. Gohan's jaw sank with despair; he hadn't just failed himself with his actions. He failed Kobe. A guy like him, who just wanted to escape - and did. Flipped his negatively acquired power into a positive and became everything Gohan had wanted to be, but couldn't.

"I've done a lot of bad things before reaching this point. Maybe this will be you one day, Gohan. Don't give up."

Gohan could see the bright light around Dodoria's palm expand in size, but he didn't actually notice it. His mind only showed him Kobe's gracious smile in the cursed space pod he had condemned him to eight years earlier.

"Don't give up."

"That green boy put up a helluva fight. 'Kobe,' I think his mom screamed. Real shame!"

"Don't give up."

Whatever grasp Gohan had on his energy and his conscience slipped away. A propulsive flame ignited in his veins as his face twisted into a beast's snarl, pleading for the blood of the monster holding his body and his fate. He didn't notice Dodoria's appalled gasp; instead, he lifted the same arm that had been shattered moments earlier.

A newfound power and instinct burst to the surface. The savage beast within that Gohan had both fostered and feared overtook him entirely, desiring nothing but the destruction of all in his way. He squeezed the arm Dodoria extended towards him hard enough to zap away his energy.

And without a shred of mercy, Gohan ripped Dodoria's arm from his socket.

He offered no reaction to his howls of suffering whilst blood erupted from his socket like a geyser. When the once powerful pink soldier released him from his grip as he crumbled, Gohan deftly landed with his feet to the ground after having been unable to feel them earlier.

Drained of remorse, Gohan nonchalantly dropped Dodoria's arm and methodically approached his quivering figure. With just a swift swing of his leg, Gohan launched him thousands of feet into the sky with a thunderous kick to his jaw. Like lightning, he appeared right above Dodoria a split-second later and punched him with all of the wrath he'd kept pent up in his servitude. He didn't even give Dodoria a chance to smack the ground before he slammed both of his knees into his neck.

After a crash landing, Dodoria desperately tried to get up as his socket squirted blood like a durian fruit being squeezed for juice. When Gohan landed, he crouched down, pulled his hands back and cuffed them together. An almost nuclear Ki burned around his palms while his power soared.

"KA...ME…"

Dodoria limped up.

"HA...ME…"

He tried to jump into the air, but the severe blood loss was sapping his energy.

"HAAAAAAAA!"

A tsunami of Ki capable of destroying the entire planet twice over exploded from Gohan's hands, pursuing only a bulbous, pink target. It slammed Dodoria and eradicated every trace of him along with every rock and structure that stood in its hundred-mile pathway.

Even in the blast's aftermath, Gohan remained frozen in a firing position with a lifeless stare. The power that had come from seemingly nowhere left him just as quickly as it had arrived; all of the pain and exhaustion prior to Dodoria's moratorium returned with a vengeance.

He collapsed onto his face, as relieved as he was distraught while everything around him went black.

Frieza sat in his floating chair inside his flagship, enjoying a particularly exquisite glass of wine. He sighed with content, both over the taste and the ensuing events. Sure, it saddened him knowing that despite the grand opportunity he had been given, Gohan turned out to be a deceptive lout unworthy of the special attention. Such a combination of power and youth was a terrible thing to waste.

But hey - it meant one less Saiyan in the universe.

Expecting a report from Dodoria of Gohan's demise at any minute, Frieza floated over to the window to observe the vast blackness of space. So many delightful planets in view, some under his wing and others just waiting for his touch. Knowing any planet could be his just by making his presence known never failed to fill Frieza with glee. His business had proven quite fruitful over the years.

As Frieza enjoyed the view, a door swung open behind him. A purple alien covered in yellow spots entered the room with a pitcher full of red fluid.

"Another pitcher of wine, my liege?"

"Just leave it on the table," Frieza said, keeping his back to him. "Much obliged, Appule."

Appule respectfully bowed. "As always, Lord Frieza."

As Appule backed away, Frieza's scouter went off - but it hadn't been who he expected. A hoarse, raspy voice distressingly called his name.

"Who's this?"

"I-It's Gomayn…"

"And for what are you calling me?" Frieza's tone was one of boredom. As much as he appreciated Gomayn's ingenuity, he found his almost desperate sycophantic behavior tiring.

"Everything's falling apart!" Gomayn whined in between gargled coughs. "The Saiyans, they destroyed the whole base!"

Frieza froze mid-sip. His jaw stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"They killed Zarbon and everyone else! And then Kiyomi and Arepa escaped!"

Wine spewed onto the window.

"WHAT?!"

The ear-splitting pitch of Frieza's exclamation stopped Appule dead in his tracks. When Frieza spun around, the incensed expression in his eyes made the lowly subordinate quiver.

"I...I think they know what's happening!"

The sound of Frieza's nails digging and scratching at his seat were somehow less shrill than his growls. He clicked his scouter and scrolled away until he found Dodoria's designation.

"Dodoria! Report! Answer me right now!"

No signal.

Another growl. Frieza directed his eyes at the cowering Appule.

"Get in touch with the intelligence on Planet #72 and see what they're tracking from Planet Fugu!"

"Y-yes sir!"

While Appule shuffled through his scouter, Frieza got in touch with his brother. "Cooler! Something's come up. I'm afraid I won't be able to make it."

His brother's sly laughter on the other end only further stoked the flames of Frieza's temper. "I've heard a few things. By all means, it can wait."

Frieza's eyes ballooned to comical proportions. "It can wait? That's it?! This was apparently so important it required me going out of my way on short notice to provide my physical presence, and now you're just letting me out of it at the drop of a hat?!" Frieza was fuming, digging his own fingernails into his palm. "An insurrection I could have easily nipped in the bud has erupted because of your bullshit!"

"Oh no, is baby Frieza having another temper tantrum?"

With a petulant, cacophonic screech, Frieza pulled his scouter from his ear and crushed it to pieces. Ignoring the electricity pulsing his hand, Frieza gazed furiously at Appule just for being there.

"Get me another scouter!"

"O-Okay!" Appule said, though his indigo face had stricken a lighter shade. "But, sir-!"

"But WHAT?!"

"Dodoria has been killed!"

For the grievous crime of breaking the news, Appule was incinerated on the spot. It only took a twitch of Frieza's eyes.

Frieza breathed inward, calming himself with the pleasant aroma of Appule's charring corpse. He was far too powerful to get upset — this was nothing more than another inconvenience. Sure, evidently Gohan and Vegeta were far more powerful than he had estimated, but they were still only ants to him. They and the Saiyans banding together just made it easier for him to kill them all at once.

With a sadistic smile, Frieza floated to one of the supply rooms in his ship and retrieved a new red scouter, quickly activating it.

"Hello, Ginyu?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I have a job for you," Frieza began as he strolled to the control room, where a few dozen technicians hustle back and forth. "It would appear that the band of monkeys have finally revolted. Zarbon and Dodoria are dead."

"Whoa, seriously?!"

The workers who overheard Frieza all stopped what they were doing, some almost falling over. A stern tightening of his brows redirected their focus back to their jobs.

"Indeed. I need you to put a pin in this problem," Frieza said as he stared at the giant window in the center of the room. "Gohan will give you the most trouble, so do not underestimate him."

"Aye-aye. What about the rest of 'em?"

"Oh, you can kill Nappa and Raditz, too," Frieza nonchalantly replied. "But bring Vegeta to me. It would be most cruel on my part to not be there for my favorite pet as he's being put down, you see."

"Yeah, I gotcha," Captain Ginyu replied with a laugh. "Unlike Zarbon and Dodoria, we won't disappoint you."

"Of course you won't. I'll let you know when to strike as soon as I have a firm grasp of their location."

"Sounds good."

The transmission over, Frieza floated to the front of the room, hovering above the two pilots at the control deck.

"Stop the ship, will you?" The two pilots looked up to him with confusion. "And lower the glass. You all might want to find something to latch onto."

Though they frightfully gawked, they knew better not to question their ruler. After a couple of button pushes, the ship came to a stop and the center window slid open, bringing a powerful gust of wind from the void of space it invited. Loose papers and devices were sucked into the wind; even a few workers who weren't strong enough to hold on fell victim. Not that it mattered to Frieza - he was more concerned with the large, red planet ahead.

Frieza floated up and out of the ship, easily withstanding the vacuum of space. He marveled at the sphere, taking in its vast beauty. After a pleasant inhale of celestial fumes, Frieza lifted his hand.

"L-Lord Frieza, why have we stopped?!" one of the desperately clinging pilots asked.

An electric energy sparked to Frieza's index finger as he joyously giggled.

"Because, my loyal subject...viewing a fireworks display is fantastic therapy."

After arriving on Planet Fugu, the trio of full-blooded Saiyans searched around for any signs of Gohan. Nappa and Raditz frantically ran their scouters, but didn't pick anything up. Could they have been too late?

Not even Vegeta with his Ki sensing ability could pick up a sign. His mind was too frazzled, dwelling on their grave situation. He knew damn well they were operating on borrowed time, [correctly] assuming Frieza's men were working around the clock to find them.

A faint signal finally reached him, whipping his head up. It was Gohan's without a doubt - but it was faint and distressed, practically nothing. On the other hand, he felt no trace of Dodoria. Whether it was a sign of relief or warning, he didn't know.

Vegeta pointed his arm southward. "Over there!" The urgency in his tone made Nappa and Raditz flinch. "About a thousand miles away. I can barely feel it, but it's him!"

"Good. I'll go get him," Raditz said before blasting off.

Once Raditz was off in the distance, Vegeta impatiently crossed his arms over his chest. He observed the terrain around him. The planet looked like a warzone, its surface littered with bodies and clouds of smoke. Rocks were scattered all over the place, the remnants of imposing cliffs.

With an impatient growl, Vegeta kicked at the ground. Sure, the planet's vastness guaranteed a lengthy round trip for Raditz, but he wished he would hurry. There was no telling what Frieza had in store, or who he'd sent after them. Hell - for all he knew, Dodoria would come bursting out any second to destroy him. Unconsciously, he chewed at the fabric over his thumb while Nappa approached him.

"What the hell are we going to do now?" Nappa asked. Vegeta didn't answer. He just bit down harder on his glove.

It wasn't until ten minutes later that Vegeta finally spoke up.

"No clue, Nappa. We're all dead men."

Vegeta finally stopped biting his glove and spat at the ground below. Him and his damn luck. Despite his earlier bluster that pushed him past Zarbon, the ever-ticking clock made apparent the ominous black cloud hanging above him. It was eerie, knowing every passing second brought him closer to fate.

Once Raditz was sure he had flown enough miles, he slowed down so he could thoroughly inspect the ground below him. The further he drew, the messier the landscape became. Smoke and craters everywhere. If any battle went down between Gohan and Dodoria, it was definitely within the general vicinity. Still no sign of a body, though.

Something finally caught his attention. Much of the ground down below was caved in, though not enough for him to classify it as a crater. But that's not what stood out - it was long, spanning seemingly for infinite miles. The aftermath of a fierce blast, without a doubt. But who the hell had the power to generate something like that?

Raditz floated down, lowering to give himself a better view. In fact, a little blip became more apparent. A figure, sitting against a cliff...

"Gohan!"

Raditz torpedoed to the ground, though was alarmed by whatever squishy thing his foot landed on. When he stepped away, he found what appeared to be an arm. A pink arm, to be exact, scaly and littered with spikes.

Raditz's jaw sank.

"No way…"

Awestruck, he whipped his head towards the half-Saiyan lying unconscious against the cliff a few feet away.

He really won!

After stepping closer, he studied Gohan's appearance closely. He was utterly thrashed. His purple bodysuit was tear after tear from neck to toe, his armor was missing several chunks, and his face. Never had the boy been in worse shape, with all of the bruises and discoloration.

Raditz bent down and placed his hand on Gohan's neck, checking for a pulse. It was faint, but sure enough, it was there. Just like Vegeta said. That little shit was a survivor.

Raditz could only shake his head in admiration of his nephew. The severed pink arm left no mistake: Gohan had defeated Dodoria in battle. Narrowly, sure, but he won.

He didn't know how the hell he did it, and frankly he didn't care. All he knew was that Gohan was alive and well, and had proven for the umpteenth time that he was one tough son of a bitch. The first picture in Raditz's head was the kid across from him, but smaller, and crying in that yellow tunic behind his father on that day he arrived. That day had been an eternity ago. Sure, he went about it in a nasty way, but he was right about Gohan all along.

The next image to pop into his head? Bardock, his father. In the short time he knew him, Raditz had desperately sought his approval. But the stoic warrior who had overcome the stock he'd been born from to rival even King Vegeta himself had written both he and Kakarot off. Though his sons may have been disappointments in his eyes, at least his grandson had done him proud.

Gingerly, Raditz lifted Gohan up and slung his entire body onto his burly shoulder. Another crater came into view as he headed for Vegeta and Nappa in the sky. After floating down to get a tighter look, he found a space pod.

With his unoccupied hand, Raditz pressed a button on his scouter. "Vegeta, Nappa! Come here, quick! I found another space pod!"

"Did you find Gohan?" Vegeta asked.

"Yeah. Knocked out, but alive."

Raditz overheard a deep sigh of relief. "Good. We'll be there shortly."

After floating down to the crater, Raditz set Gohan down and waited patiently. Soon enough, Vegeta and Nappa arrived and looked closely at the boy laying down just to confirm he was alive.

"Any sign of Dodoria?" Vegeta inquired.

"Well, if you count a severed arm, then yeah," Raditz replied with a snicker

While Nappa's jaw sank, Vegeta gawked at Raditz like he'd just told him Frieza was in love with him. "Seriously…?"

"That little brat," Vegeta said with proud laughter as he observed the boy. Though he soon frowned when he noticed something else about his body.

"Shit. Looks like he lost his tail in the fight, though."

"Rats," Nappa said. "That would've come in handy. Kid could clear the whole Ginyu Force as an ape."

"Where are we going now?" Raditz asked.

Vegeta's face grew solemn as he focused. "Before we do anything, we have to get Gohan healed. We'll go to Planet Frieza #86 and kill everyone there."

"And from there…?"

A muscle in Vegeta's jaw flexed. "…I don't know."

Raditz frowned, having expected such a response. They really were completely screwed.

Vegeta pulled out a remote from his armor and pressed a few buttons. Minutes later, all three of the Saiyans' space pods arrived and landed gingerly onto the ground.

"Nappa," Vegeta instructed, turning to his longtime ally, "Get Gohan in Dodoria's pod and input the coordinates for #86. And make sure you turn on the life support system."

Nappa nodded. "Got it."

"Alright, get a move on…" Vegeta ordered as got inside his space pod. As he situated himself in the cramped space with his arms folded, he restlessly drummed his fingers against his forearm. Once he saw Nappa leaving Gohan's pod, he shut his door and input the proper coordinates. While the pod blasted away into space, Vegeta mulled over his options, in search of signs.

All of them pointed to a fight to the death.

Ruins. Giant footprints. Smoke. Piles of corpses all bearing the Cold Force armor.

The whole sight made Frieza want to vomit.

While his crew went about surveying the damage, Frieza walked around, the rage from earlier boiling back to the surface. It was bad enough seeing one of the many planets he'd proudly conquered and fortified left into ruins - but at the Saiyans' hands. After everything he'd done to pamper them?

Making matters worse, Frieza tripped over a body. This was why he used the goddamn floating chair most of the time.

When he turned around to incinerate it just for existing, he did a double take. The pale blue skin and green hair clearly belonged to Zarbon. But that mashed-in face? With the open wound on his skull oozing blood and brain matter? In the end, no matter how much his elegant officer valued beauty, that revolting site was all he was truly worth.

Gomayn stumbled over to Frieza. As soon he saw the boy and his spiky hair, Frieza drilled a beam into his left foot. As Gomayn hopped around and caressed it in his hands, Frieza irritably whipped his tail into the ground.

"How the hell did the Saiyans find everything out, huh? You blathered your big mouth, didn't you?!"

Gomayn opened his eyes and mouth to answer, but just the sight of his Lordship's fearsome anger made him stumble on his ass.

"N-No, Lord Frieza! I swear, my lips were sealed!" As he coughed through the pain of speaking, Gomayn looked down to his left. "It...it must've been Kiyomi! She's always snooping around."

Clenching his teeth, Frieza whipped his tail once more. "You're lucky my mind is too frazzled to adequately assess your honesty. Get your skinny hide into my ship and don't let me see you for at least the next three hours!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" Gomayn got up and woefully hopped to Frieza's circular flagship. As he wondered why he put up with that suck-up, Frieza received a transmission from a nearby subordinate.

"Lord Frieza, we've hacked into Dodoria's space pod. It would appear one of the Saiyans is occupying it. The tracking input says Planet Frieza #86."

A wicked smile met Frieza's lips. "Excellent work, kind sir!" He flipped his scouter's transmission over to Ginyu.

"Ginyu?"

"Yes, sir?"

"It's set. Go to Planet #86."

When Gohan finally opened his eyes, he was delirious. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? Had he briefly dozed off while Dodoria had him in his grasp? It wasn't until he felt the ice cold solution he'd been acquainted with for years submerging his body that he finally grasped where he was.

But how?

How was he even breathing, and how was he even in a healing tank? Had everything been a dream? The last thing he remembered was Dodoria holding him like a piece of rye ripped from the ground. And then -

"Give your green buddy and the rest of Planet Mamba my regards in hell."

Kobe.

Like he'd just heard it all over again, Gohan ripped his breathing mask off and blasted a hole through the glass, letting the solution spill. He marched from the tank ready to kill until reason took over - if that all happened and he was here, the fighting was over.

He observed his body. Save for the scars permanently engraved into his skin, he was free of every cut, wound and bruise from his battle with Dodoria. And it wasn't just that. As he stared at his palms, he felt an enormous new reservoir of power swimming through his veins.

After drying himself off with his Ki, Gohan looked to his right and found a fresh purple & gold uniform waiting for him. Still unsure of how he was back at a Frieza base if he were a marked man but figuring he was short on time, Gohan quickly hauled his clothes on. Wisely, he forgoed putting on a nearby scouter. He did a Ki scan as he did so, relieved when he felt nothing but his three Saiyan elders.

When he stepped out into the hallway, he recoiled in shock. No wonder he hadn't sensed anyone else - because dozens of armored corpses lined the floor. At the end of the trail lay a pile of scouters.

"You're awake."

Gohan turned around. It was Raditz.

"You guys came back for me?" Gohan asked.

"Yeah, we found everything out," Raditz said. His expression grew solemn. "Everything. Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta all along."

Gohan's jaw nearly sank to the floor. "You can't be serious…!"

He looked down somberly, realizing that the Saiyans had been lied to the entire time; tricked into forced loyalty. This battle wasn't simply a personal grudge anymore - it was vengeance for an entire race.

"He is."

The gruff voice of Vegeta joined them. Gohan looked up - he was as agitated as ever, with Nappa close behind him. Gohan shifted awkwardly in his presence, their ugly falling out still fresh in his mind.

"Stop looking stupid, boy," Vegeta gruffly ordered, like old times. "Thought I told you to stop being scared all the time."

In a weird way, Gohan relished the return to normalcy. Vegeta had been right about Frieza and his "offer" all along. After shaking his head, he looked around. "What's going on, exactly?"

"Zarbon's dead. Kiyomi and your girlfriend are safe."

Every word of those sentences threw Gohan through a loop. "What?! Zarbon's dead? How...and girlfriend? You mean Arepa?"

"Obviously."

"When…?"

"While you were fighting Dodoria."

Gohan stared at Vegeta with disbelief. Even as the Saiyan Prince, as stoic as ever, scoffed at his puzzled expression, he had to ask.

"You saved them?"

With a roll of his eyes and a snort, Vegeta shrugged. His disposition was more defensive than annoyed. "I had a golden opportunity to finally kill the stupid prettyboy and took it. In the process they were saved, yes."

Gohan looked away with a faint smile. Whether Vegeta had sincerely helped them or not, he was truly grateful. He didn't know if he could live with himself if Kiyomi and Arepa were killed for his actions.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"In Dreamland? How the hell should I know?" Vegeta snorted. "Somewhere off the grid, I guess. But that's not important. We've got to get the hell out here, too. We're all marked for death."

"Not like it matters where," Raditz said. "Frieza will send men to the ends of the universe to find us. Face it, we're screwed."

Gohan frowned. Not even Vegeta, who was always quick to rebuke Raditz, contested that. There really was nothing out there that could help them, realistically. As long as Frieza ran the universe, they were doomed, left with no adequate amount of time to prepare for a figure as odious as Frieza.

"You can get strong without ever setting foot on a Frieza or a Kabnet base?"

Gohan blinked rapidly. Why were the words of Kobe replaying for him? His advice sounded nice in theory, but all it got him was death at the hands of Dodoria.

Before Gohan could swelter at the harsh reminder, Vegeta came forward with a thought. "Nappa, you remember that story that guy Kanabis told way back on Vegeta, about the 'Namekians?'"

"Yeah," Nappa said, scrunching his eyes as he tried to remember. "Buncha wizards. Green slug lookin' dudes with pointy ears who could cook up some wish granting orbs or somethin'."

Gohan and Raditz looked at each other at the same time, their eyes almost spilling from their sockets.

"So the same planet you dismiss as weak is the source of your power then, huh?"

More words from Kobe. Of course!

"But that was just some dumb ol' legend," Nappa said. "I bet those guys are extinct, too."

"No, wait!" Raditz interjected, "There was a green slug man-"

"-On Earth."

All the grown Saiyans turned to the teenage half-Saiyan who had just completed Raditz's sentence.

"It wasn't just a story. Those wish granting orbs are called Dragon Balls, and they exist on Earth."

All three Saiyans nearly stumbled in shock, though Vegeta expressed some agitation. "Were you sitting on that information all this time?!"

Gohan hung his head in shame. "Yes…"

"Fool!" Vegeta barked. "Why the hell would you…?!" He stopped himself, seeing the answer written in Gohan's sour expression. It wasn't the time to chastise the boy - who had just singlehandedly eradicated Dodoria - for being soft or protecting his home planet.

"Whatever," Vegeta said with a sigh. "It doesn't matter. But do you know for sure it's real?"

"I was wearing one on top of my hat when Raditz took me," Gohan said. His uncle grimaced. "There's seven of them, and they can grant any wish once they're gathered."

What was left unspoken, was how their power nearly sent him back home.

The full-bloods looked amongst each other, their minds racing over the possibilities. A wish put anything on the table that could seal their victory against Frieza. For the first time in ages, Vegeta felt momentum swinging his way.

Any wish I desire, Vegeta said to himself, still picking up the pieces of his mind after such a discovery. He practically salivated over it. After finally resolving his options, Vegeta stepped forward with his fist ambitiously raised.

"Immortality!"

While Nappa grinned and cracked his knuckles, Gohan and Raditz stared at their prince wondrously. It sure as hell sounded like a great idea.

Vegeta couldn't help but chuckle. "Just think about it - with immortality, Frieza could chase us around all he'd want and we'd never die! Our strength would keep growing until the inevitable finally happens!"

Every Saiyan, even Gohan, grinned. At last, a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Too bad Kakarot won't be accommodating," Raditz said with a cold sweat.

"Like it matters," Vegeta dismissed.

Reminded of why he never bothered bringing it up, Gohan looked away from the joyous Saiyans. He had no doubt in his mind that his father hated Raditz and everything the Saiyans represented. Even if his own son were in the picture, he wouldn't just hand them over.

But then again, it was like Vegeta said. It didn't matter. His father wasn't strong enough. Point blank. Hopefully, he'd realize that and fall in line.

And then, it hit him. Vegeta, too. Nappa and Raditz stood dumbfounded while the two shorter of the four took on horrified faces.

Why now?! Gohan thought to himself.

"The hell's going on?!" Nappa asked.

Gohan and Vegeta said it at the same time.

"The Ginyu Force."

Nappa and Raditz's faces went pale. Gohan and Vegeta's hearts were nearly pumping out of their chest; such was the curse of Ki sensing. But why hadn't Gohan picked it up sooner? The day he first encountered them, he sensed them a good hour before their arrival. Had he been too rattled from everything?

Quickly drenched with profuse sweats, Vegeta spun around. "Gohan, how strong are you now?!"

"I could take like...Jeice and Burter, probably. But no way can I fight Recoome or Ginyu!"

"Shit!"

Gohan wished he could go back in time and kill Dodoria again for ripping off his tail. He could practically hear him laughing from beyond the grave.

Five tremors rocked the planet within seconds of each other. The impact knocked all four Saiyans over.

"Quick, Gohan! Mask your power level!" Vegeta screamed as he hopped back up. Gohan nodded, already way ahead of him. But he looked back at Nappa and Raditz, neither of whom knew how. He was about to speak, until he overheard a few voices far off in the distance.

"Awright guys, let's get rid o' these wankers fast! I'm streamin' in an hour and you know I can't disappoint my followers!" An accent vaguely reminiscent of Arepa's - Jeice.

"How about you stream this? Your clout'll go through the friggin' roof!"

"Aw yeah! Great idea, Burter!"

Vegeta and the rest of the Saiyans dove into the closest room. He beckoned them to the other side and stood with his back to the wall, head peering out the doorway. Though none of the Ginyus stood in his line of sight, he felt their approach. Time was running short.

With no other adequate ideas, Vegeta fired a blast down the right side of the hallway. It hit a door at the end and left a loud explosion in its wake. As smoke rapidly filled the halls, Vegeta fired another blast in the opposite direction to the same results. The sounds of angry cursing let him know it worked. He spun around to the other three.

"They're distracted, but that's not enough!"

While Gohan crouched, Nappa and Raditz stared straight ahead, then at each other. Their thoughts on the same wavelength, they nodded.

"Don't worry about it, Vegeta...Raditz and I will hold them off." Nappa gave his Prince a crooked smirk as sweat filled down his bald head.

Vegeta balked at the soldier he'd known for virtually his entire life, utterly baffled. "Are you insane?! You'll be torn apart. Only Gohan and I even stand a chance!"

Raditz shook his head with the same somber expression as Nappa. "Yeah, yeah, we know. But you and Gohan here are the only ones that can hide your power level. And your tails are gone. Nappa and I, we could never hope to beat Frieza in a million lifetimes. But you two...I know one of you will do it, so you better get the hell out of here alive."

"For once, Raditz is right," Nappa snickered. Even Raditz, the perennial butt of all jokes, had to laugh. "You two are the avengers. So let's say we give the Great Apes one last go 'round, eh, Raditz?"

For the first time, Vegeta took their orders instead. With the closest thing to a lopsided smile, Vegeta nodded.

"You stupid bastards…"

Nappa bowed. "Been an honor servin' ya, Prince."

"Likewise, Vegeta," Raditz added with a bow of his own. He turned towards Gohan, who'd been gazing apprehensively at him.

"And Gohan…for what it's worth, I'm sorry for throwing you into all this shit. You're too good for any of us."

Though he tried, Gohan couldn't fight the bitter smile that made its way to his face. Raditz: the uncle he once saw as a monster, and then as a loser, and now the man throwing his life away for his. He had every reason to hate his guts for stripping him from his home; but in that moment, he couldn't.

He gave them both a nod of deep respect. After raising his hand in salutation, he followed Vegeta's mad dash out of the hall, shielding his eyes from the smoke. As he waded through the halls, he overheard a few crashes - one in the distance, and another straight ahead. When he looked up, he found a hole in the wall and Vegeta sprinting on the other side. With just enough power not set off scouters, Gohan took a long dive through the hole and somersaulted his way back up to dart for the line of Space Pods. They were so close…

"Gohan!" Vegeta shouted, just feet from a pod.

"Yeah?!"

"What are Earth's coordinates?!"

Gohan didn't even need to think about it.

"1984AT!"

"Got it!" Vegeta practically rammed into the first space pod before he hopped inside.

When Gohan finally got his hands on one, he heard a loud crash behind him. After opening the pod, turning around, and leaping inside, he saw two armored Apes roaring from what was left of the base. It was the last thing he saw before the doors closed.

Secure, but not safe, Gohan practically smashed his pod's control deck. He tapped his foot impatiently - even the single second it took for the voice to queue up felt like an eternity.

"Landing coordinates?"

Gohan took one last look at Raditz in his ape transformation.

"1984AT."

And the pod took off. Gohan took the deepest breath of his life, a rush of adrenaline pounding his body. There would be no rerouting this time, no fear of the danger he would be bringing on the planet. He could no longer afford to let fear dictate his actions - Kobe hadn't, after all. He may have died, but he died standing for himself and his people only.

Just as he was about to turn on the sleeping gas, a transmission came through on the intercom.

"Gohan?!"

That voice!

"Arepa?! How?"

"Kiyomi and I've been eavesdropping every damn scouter we can guess. Figured out how to reach space pods, too!"

Gohan chuckled. Of course they had.

"When we saw space pods leave the planet the Ginyu Force showed up on, we figured it was you. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that nasally li'l voice of yours."

"Shut up," Gohan mumbled. But he could only feel the same about her and her stupid, adorable accent.

"Where ya headed?"

"Where else?"

Arepa's infectious giggle on the other end forced a genuine smile out of Gohan. "Shoulda figured. Well, give us a holler when you're ready to fight. I'll be ready, too."

"Of course."

"Alrighty, then. See you whenever. Love ya!"

Gohan blinked.

Of everything that had hit him that day, perhaps nothing stunned him more than that last message. On that note, it sure seemed like a perfect time to finally turn on the sleeping gas. There were more important things waiting for him, anyway. When he woke up, he would be back home.

For better or worse.

Chapter Text

"I am handling it, papa."

"Several servant planets revolting doesn't sound like 'handling' it, son."

"It is nothing," Frieza said, his tail waving restlessly while his chair floated back and forth in an isolated room within his flagship. The floor was a canvas of spilled wine, clumps of shattered glass, and cup stems. A beleaguered servant with a round, yellow head stood idly in the back, trembling next to a glass pitcher.

"A few clumps of weaklings were emboldened by the Saiyans' attack, staged their own pitiful uprisings, and my officers are handling it. That's it."

"I don't want to know what your officers are doing about it," King Cold sternly replied over the scouter, "I want to know what you're doing about it."

Frieza bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes swelling with an unbefitting restlessness. He took a few moments to find his words. "Papa, you already see what I'm doing. The worst is already over and the Ginyu Force will be handing Vegeta over any min-"

A dramatic sigh from Cold cut Frieza off. "My child, my dear, precious child. How many times over the years have we had to have this conversation?"

With a resigned impatience, Frieza rubbed the shell encasing his head, regarding the incoming lecture with acrimony.

"After what happened with Kabnet, you had finally become more proactive like Cooler." Frieza closed his eyes. The deep breath he took couldn't stop him from pounding his fist on the edge of his chair. "But in the relative quiet since then, you've slipped back into your old habits. Expecting everything to be done for you. Alas, I can only blame myself for spoiling you so much in your youth!"

"I am not spoiled," Frieza growled. "I am operating the force exactly as you intended. What's the point of accumulating all of these resources if I don't utilize them?"

"A fair point. That being said, the resources aren't to be abused - sound judgment must also be applied. For instance; if you had just killed Gohan on the spot, none of this would have happened."

"If your other son hadn't pulled me away, none of this would have happened!" Frieza snapped. "Besides, that girl is attached to Gohan. She would have stirred up trouble herself."

"So? Just kill her, too."

Frieza buried his chin in his hand.

"See, that's your problem. You want every last useful person you come across to like you and serve you loyally. I mean, people like me, but that's just my natural charm and sense of humor!"

Fuck. Off, Frieza said in his thoughts.

"You try to turn on the charm like I do, but people see through it. It breeds uncertainty that threatens the very loyalty you lean on like a crutch. And that is why you're best off handling serious issues yourself."

"I have no problem keeping my subjects loyal save for the remains of those obstreperous apes that you brought into the fold and aligned with."

"And under me, it was a quite peaceful alliance, wasn't it?"

When Cold laughed at his ensuing silence, Frieza seriously contemplated blasting the window ahead of him to pieces.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' But since that's over and done with, I expect it to be taken care of before it becomes a serious problem." The charm that Cold wore like a badge of honor faded from his voice, eliciting a brief twitch of the younger tyrant's right eye. "I don't like problems."

"I understand, Papa."

"But of course, son!" Cold replied with his usual mirth. "Ooh, before you go, turn on your video! It's been so long since the Frost Council has seen you!"

With decades' worth of frustration, Frieza groaned as he viewed his scouter's lens, where King Cold maneuvered his own scouter to show his face and a few dozen reptilian aliens of various age, color, and shapes behind him. Several of them waved with wide smiles.

Frieza removed his scouter, clicked a button, and held it up to his exasperated face.

"Oh, don't give me that sourpuss, Frieza; say hi to everybody!"

"Greetings," Frieza replied with a wave and an uncomfortably mechanical smile.

Cold panned his scouter over the various aliens, stopping when he reached a short, ederly man who resembled Frieza. "Say hi to Grandpa Chilled, too!"

"Nobody wants to see that little brat," the old lizard grumbled.

"Likewise," Frieza said through mashed teeth. He hated the sight of that crippled old coot.

"Always so COLD, father! That's my job!" King Cold remarked, to laughter in the background and a cringe from Frieza.

The scouter view switched perspectives, indicating Cold placed his back over his eye. "Well, that'll do. I do hope you heed my advice. Ciao!"

Frieza tightened his grip around the scouter the second his father's transmission ended. Before sparks could fly, another transmission came through.

"Lord Frieza!"

Recognizing the voice and unnerved by the anxiety coating it, Frieza loosened his hand and placed the scouter back over his eye. "Yes, Captain Ginyu?"

"A bit of bad news…"

This time, Frieza bit the inside of his cheek. He could practically hear his father's disparaging laughter in his head. "And just what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

On the other line, Ginyu gathered himself with a deep breath. "Well, you see, we made it to Planet #86 and everything, and the Saiyans really were there. But, well…"

"Well what?!" Frieza snarled. Droplets of spit flung from his mouth. "Speak, Ginyu."

"They started blowing things up to distract us. Then Nappa and Raditz turned into apes. Now don't get me wrong, we handled those two eventually, but, well...Gohan and Vegeta…"

Every muscle in Frieza's face tightened. No...

"...They escaped, sir."

Frieza spun his chair around to face the loyal attendant with the type of scowl that made him want to be anywhere else in the universe. With a flick of his telekinetic powers, and a clench of his fist, Frieza popped his head like a yellow balloon. His colorful mixture of blood and brains made adequate confetti.

"How?" Frieza asked, stepping out of his chair. His foot stepped on a few chips of glass he'd left, but he didn't even notice.

"Well, sir-"

"HOW?!"

Frieza whipped his tail into the floor hard enough to dent it.

"We could detect Nappa and Raditz, but Gohan and Vegeta's power levels blipped off our scouters as soon as we landed. By the time we'd taken care of Nappa and Raditz, they were gone. I'm pretty sure they both know how to conceal their power levels, and that's how they escaped us."

With a vigorous swing of his foot, Frieza kicked the headless corpse into the door so hard, it fell from its frame. All he wanted to do was have Gohan killed for his disloyalty in a clean, inconspicuous manner. Arepa would stay in line, thinking Gohan had merely met his demise in a battle beyond his capability. The brat would have sulked for a bit and moved on. And the Saiyans wouldn't suspect a thing; if anything, Vegeta would have been vindicated. But no, it had to all turn into a spectacular mess. He'd told his father there was no sense in having resources if he couldn't use them - apparently, his resources were no good.

"Fine, whatever," Frieza said, looking down at that throbbing body and ignoring the frightened stares of passerby workers. "What has been done cannot be undone."

"What should we do next?"

"Nothing. I will figure out another way. Your crew will no longer be needed for this case."

"Understood, Lord Frieza."

After clicking his scouter off, Frieza looked up and pointed at the first worker he laid eyes on. "You."

"Yes, sir?" asked a frazzled long-haired man with pink skin.

"Figure out what pods left Planet Frieza #86 and find out where they're headed."

"Will do!" the worker said before rushing into a control room, fearful of the manic look in his ruler's eyes.

Deciding to take a more forthright approach, Frieza followed him into the room and gave every worker his watchful, wrathful eye. They worked with renewed vigor in his presence while he stewed over the cluster of failures on his plate.

"Lord Frieza, we've got a lead!" shouted the pink worker.

"Where?"

"They're headed for a planet far off in the north sector. Coordinates are 1984AT," he explained.

The north sector? As far as Frieza had remembered, the north sector had been a far-removed quadrant full of nothing but paltry frontier planets; nothing of any great value, really. But then, he did know Gohan came from a weak and peaceful world. Of course - they were running to Gohan's father for help.

"Very well," Frieza said, a voracious smirk on his face. "Reroute the ship-"

Before he could finish his instructions, the ship rocked back and forth. While Frieza just barely kept his balance, several of the workers fell over. He shrugged it off, figuring it for turbulence typical of interstellar flight.

That was, until an explosion went off down the hall.

Frieza sped out of the control room to find the source. He stepped inside a ravaged room and was greeted to a hole on the other side sucking away any and every soldier too weak to resist the vacuum of space. In the distance, he could see bodies - several, dressed in aqua-colored space suits and attached to cords.

With a fierce glare, Frieza effortlessly floated out of the same hole his less fortunate subjects flew from like litter. The attackers greeted him with blasts as soon he showed up, though they were mere toys that he swatted away. As he defended himself, he narrowed his vision onto the attackers. Beneath their helmets, he could make out their faces - humanoids, skin colored in light shades across the blue green spectrum with colorful hairstyles.

Before he could draw any conclusions on the familiar faces, another missile struck the flagship.

Though the ship withstood the blow, it was not without damage. Frieza backed away from the half-dozen space warriors but fired fatal beams through their glass helmets as he did so. A stream of foreign curses left his mouth as he raced back to the control room, where panicked workers ran back and forth.

"We're being assaulted!" Frieza shouted.

"I know, sir!" shouted that pink worker from before. "I just received word that the people of Planet Cytrus are waging assaults on several of our planets, too. They may be the attackers!"

"Planet Cytrus?" Frieza echoed. "That's Zarbon's home planet!" No wonder he recognized those faces. With a swing of his fist, Frieza shrieked loud enough to crack his workers' eardrums. That cunning witch, Kiyomi, must have been behind this.

Frieza looked out the window, but the source of that missile seemingly disappeared from view. Clearly, they were prepared.

"Find the nearest planet and retreat!" Frieza ordered. The workers frantically nodded. While the ship violently changed course, Frieza paced around the room with righteous fury. It pained him to admit it, but his father was right - it was high time he handled these problems himself.

But the Planet Cytrus uprising jumped in front of the Saiyans' escape. The immediate problems needed addressing. Besides, he had a set of backup running the northernmost planets that could help take care of his simian problem, anyway...

Rocked by a thunderous crash he'd grown far too accustomed to over the years, Gohan awoke from his slumber. Gauging his internal clock, he estimated the trip had taken a couple of months thanks to the high-speed pods; not for the first time, Gohan wondered how long the original trip must have been. As he yawned, he stretched his limbs as much as his body would allow in the cramped space.

And then the door opened, letting in the bright light of the sun that hovered amongst a blue sky that Gohan recognized like he'd been there just the day before. He stepped outside, and hovered into the high atmosphere, feeling the breeze brush against his face; the same gust that waved the green blades of grass in the valley down below.

This was it: his home, as pristine as he'd remembered.

How was Gohan supposed to feel?

Happy?

Nostalgic?

Hopeful?

Regretful?

Relieved?

He couldn't put a pin in what he felt in the moment. Not helping matters was the field below. It was the spitting image of the valley Raditz had taken him to on that day. Amongst the grass, he could almost see a crying child clad in yellow, helpless in a taller, stronger man's grip.

Disgusted, Gohan curled his lips back. A vast field of his former inadequacy staring him in the face. A truly revolting sight.

"So this is Earth, huh?"

Gohan looked to his left, where Vegeta floated a few yards away.

"At least it looks nice enough," he observed with a snort. "Now, let's see where we can get a lead on those Dragon Balls. Do you know the Namekian who created them?"

Gohan didn't answer, still fixated on the field down below. In his head, the only thing he could hear were the obnoxious sounds of his four-year-old cries for help. He had been nothing but a useless brat unable to harness the power he sat on.

"Gohan."

But he was better now. He had been forced to do horrible things, been dealt immeasurable trauma, and came out of it all a true warrior. A Saiyan. A survivor. Few could push him around, and even those who could would have hell to pay.

"Gohan!"

He whipped his head back to Vegeta, who bemusedly gazed at him. With a sigh, he looked away in discomfort.

"Now's not the time for you to deal with your home sickness," Vegeta said. "We have a job to do."

"I'm fine," Gohan replied with a gruff inflection. Vegeta squinted, observing him greater scrutiny for a few moments before grunting and looking away. Taking his mind off of him, Gohan looked straight ahead and focused his senses, looking for a presence that felt both familiar and strong…

"I've found two big power levels."

...and evidently, Vegeta had been way ahead of him.

"They're both far away. One of them feels like you and Raditz."

Gohan's heart skipped a beat.

"That could only be Kakarot. The other feels strange, but strong. The Namekian, I presume."

Scanning his memories, Gohan struggled to recall the Namekian's name. It was some non-threatening absurdity that he vividly remembered giggling over, at least. Flute? Clarinet? Tony Soprano? Piano? Picasso, maybe? Actually, that one sounded right.

"Let's...split up," Gohan said with trepidation. "I'll go check out the closest one."

His father was the farther one.

"Since when did you call the shots?" Vegeta asked with a smirk.

Gohan looked up, blinking a few times before he found a smirk of his own.

"Since I became the stronger one."

Both of the Saiyans stared at each other for a few moments, competitive fire burning in both of their obsidian eyes. Even under their grave circumstances, their Saiyan nature remained as strong as ever. Their standoff lacked most of the animosity of that day on Frieza's base, however.

Vegeta broke the staring contest with a grunt, taking off into the high skies soon after. Gohan did the same.

A puffy, yellow cloud ripped through the Earth's blue skies at speeds that exceeded even the finest jets. It zipped past every startled bird or dinosaur that came its way in pursuit of a specific place; one that wasn't too far away anymore.

On top of the cloud? A simple man, sporting an orange gi and spiky, black hair that stood out like a palm tree. Most people knew him as Son Goku. As was typical of him, he wore a bright, goofy smile on his face while he rode his tried-and-true Flying Nimbus on route to Capsule Corporation. Sure, he could've flown there easily, but he found the Nimbus far more fun.

The last eight years had been a time of hardship, healing, and even death. But Goku had pushed through it all with his head held high. He was on the way to his oldest friend's house to celebrate another friend's great fortune.

When that big yellow dome came into clear view amongst the clouds, Goku laughed and hopped off the cloud, gleefully letting gravity do its job and briskly guide him down below. He hit the grass hard with his feet, startling many of the folks that had been standing around.

"Goku! Ya made it after all!"

It was Krillin, Goku's bald rival-turned-best-friend, clad in a spiffy black tuxedo and wearing a cologne that assaulted his sensitive nostrils. Behind him were rows of white chairs divided by a trail white flower pedals running down the middle. In front of the chairs, an altar surrounded by white pillars decorated with wreaths.

"Of course, buddy! I wouldn't miss this day for nothin'." Goku beamed. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Aww, it's nothing!" Krillin waved him off, laughing.

"Sure came dressed for the occasion," quipped Oolong and his gravelly voice. He, too, wore a tuxedo. Yamcha, Puar, and Roshi also stood among them, all laughing in similar attire.

"Actually, I'm kinda glad you came dressed like that," Krillin said. In one swift motion, he ripped off the entire suit, pants included, and revealed his own orange & blue Turtle uniform. Naturally, Yamcha did the same.

"That thing was so uncomfortable, anyway," Yamcha said, undoing his ponytail and letting his wild hair run free as well.

"Gettin' married in ya fightin' gear. What the hell did I expect?" Oolong said, guzzling a can of beer. "Hell, I'm surprised Goku here didn't try to invite Piccolo and make it a battle royale."

The circle of longtime friends laughed boisterously, Goku rubbing his spiky hair. "C'mon now, I'm not that crazy!"

"Well, we kinda have to thank Piccolo for this day, anyway," Yamcha said. "If he hadn't killed that kooky Dr. Whatzit, he would've finished turning Lazuli and her brother into literal killing machines."

"You say that like she can't kill everybody here not named Goku, anyway!" Oolong whined as he pointed the same hand holding his beer at Krillin. "I'm tellin' ya, you better not screw this thing up. Hell hath no fury!"

Krillin laughed him off, though his shiny head moistened. "Yeah, I know, I know!"

"And here I thought I would stand out for ignoring the dress code."

All eyes turned to the man wearing boots, jeans, and a tan sweatshirt with green sleeves. His black hair was cropped just above his shoulders while his eyes were the same shade as a crystal.

"'Sup, Lapis!" Yamcha greeted.

Lapis nodded with a polite smile. With his minor enhancements, his Ki had always been hard to keep track of. He smirked and turned towards Krillin. "Don't go pissing off my sister, now."

"Trust me, I won't screw this one up," Krillin assured.

Goku laughed and looked around, scanning the line of people being fielded by security and an usher in front of Capsule Corp's enormous backyard. The majority of guests were folks from the bride's rowdy family and miscreant friends. Many of them wore tattoos from head to toe with bizarre piercings patterning their ears and faces.

Heavily acquanting themselves at the punch table were two old female friends with different shades of long and decorated blue hair, but identical purple dresses. Goku hopped over, startling them both.

"Bulma, Launch! What's up?"

While Bulma scowled after spilling the wine from her glass onto her frilled, purple dress, Launch smiled. "Heya, Goku!"

Bulma wasn't as friendly. "Wearing your gi, really?" Her speech was slightly slurred.

"You okay, Bulma?" Goku asked, eyeing his old friend with concern.

Forcing a smile, Bulma shrugged him off. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm only three years from 40 with no shot at getting married any time soon. But what is time but an indefinite countdown to our inevitable, lonely deaths, right?"

"Um, right," Goku replied with a puzzled brow.

"She's been at it all afternoon," Launch said, keeping her voice low.

"I haven't been at anything," Bulma cut in, though her face was flush red. "And anyway, where's Chi-Chi? She was looking forward to this."

Goku shrugged. "Goten's got a fever. She didn't wanna leave his side, but she told me to go out and have fun."

"Aww, I hope the little guy's okay," Bulma said with a concerned smile.

"Nah, it's nothin'. He's a toughie!"

"Well, he should be, considering he's practically your clone," Bulma replied.

Goten - Goku's two-year-old, second son. After trying and failing for over a year to find Gohan in space, Goku had turned to the Dragon Balls as a last resort. When Shenron delivered the harsh news that Gohan couldn't be found anywhere in the universe, or even be wished back to life, Goku's spirit had shattered. He'd deemed himself a failure who couldn't protect his son, forced to accept the fact that he would most likely never see him again...whether he was alive or not.

But eventually, he picked up the pieces and had reached a stage of power that assured him he could handle any threat to his family. Eventually, he became comfortable with the idea of bringing another child into the world;. Though he could never truly fill the void his first son had left, he delivered joy to Goku and Chi-Chi in his own way.

It took a while, but Goku and Chi-Chi had learned how to live their lives again. Or second life, in Goku's case.

Goku looked back at Krillin, hoping nothing would disrupt his incoming happiness, either.

After everyone got in their seats, the ceremony commenced. Goku took a seat in the back, while Master Roshi stood in front of the altar. Puar and a short, blonde child stood (or floated, in Puar's case) across from him.

"Dammit, Goku, get over here!" Yamcha, the best man, yelled from the side of the altar. Lapis stood behind him. "You're one of the groomsmen, too!"

"Is he really a groomsman if he doesn't show up for a single rehearsal?" Master Roshi asked while the guests laughed.

Slapping himself for not remembering, Goku jumped up and joined Yamcha and Lapis. They marched to the altar to join Master Roshi, and Krillin soon followed. Goku laughed as his diminutive friend stood there with shudders. Goku himself hadn't had a real wedding; he just told Chi-Chi they oughta get married at the tournament, and that was that. But he doubted he would have ever been the jittering mess Krillin was; hell, he didn't even fully understand what the dang thing was back then.

Bulma, Launch, and a red-haired woman with tattoos all over her arms walked down the aisle and joined the men at the altar, taking the opposite side. With a mischievous smirk, Bulma removed the flower from the strap of her dress and waved it beneath Launch's nostrils.

She sneezed. Her hair flickered to blonde and her eyes heated up into a glare. Seemingly defying physics, the new blonde Launch pulled a machine gun from her dress, raised it in the air, and let off a few rounds of bullets to the alarm, and humor, of the guests.

"Awright, who wants to see my girl get married?!" Launch yelled. After a roar of cheers, she pointed her gun to the seats. Those cheers became murmurs. "And who has the most expensive jewelry?!"

When Krillin and Yamcha scowled at Bulma, she just shrugged. "What? Lazuli prefers this version of her."

After Bulma shooed Lanch's guns away, her blonde, unaging mother played the keys for "Here Comes the Bride" on an organ. Krillin anxiously bit down on his bottom lip, his face growing redder and redder as his bride made her way down the aisle with her father, a modestly-dressed man with short black hair namd Onyx. With her blonde hair cut like her brother's, and similarly enrapturing blue eyes, she was stunning in her white dress. She smiled nervously as her father let her go.

As Lazuli stood across from Krillin, Roshi cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this monk and this pseudo-cyborg in holy matrimony." Everyone, Lazuli and Krillin included, laughed at Roshi's spiel. "Now, Krillin, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live in Kame House in holy matrimony; to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and health, forsaking all others, and drilling a peephole in your bedroom, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I...hey, wait a minute!"

Roshi and the guests chuckled uproariously, though Lazuli looked about five seconds away from murdering the old lecher in cold blood.

"Do you vow to do everything but the last part?"

Krillin looked Lazuli in her eyes, the most assured expression of his life on his face.

"I do."

"And Lazuli, do you vow to...uh, all that stuff?"

Lazuli rolled her eyes at Roshi, and then looked back at Krillin.

"I…"

Goku yelled, startling everyone. A second later, all those in the ceremony who could sense Ki felt it as well, including Krillin. The same eyes that were glued to his bride-to-be had darted to the sky. Lazuli glared at him, but more out of frustration with the circumstances; she knew something was happening.

"Y'all feel that?!" Goku asked, his fingers trembling as he stared solemnly into the clouds. "I...I've never felt a power this strong!"

"Is it Piccolo again?" Lapis asked.

Goku shook his head; there was something about the Ki signature that unnerved all of his senses. His heart thumped at a drummer boy's pace. "No, it's not him. I don't like how this feels at all."

With narrowed eyes, Goku could make out a figure rapidly approaching. A seventh sense told him that whatever it was, he was its target.

The figure finally stopped just a few feet away from the ceremony, hovering above the befuddled spectators with his arms folded. The mysterious warrior's appearance made Goku's eyes disproportionately bubble up. The armor - it was white & gold instead of black & brown, but he would never forget that design for as long as he lived. His hair, the darkest shade of brown, stood up like a flame; his eyes were somehow even more molten.

Krillin had nearly fallen over while his more powerful wife urgently stepped marched ahead. Her brother did the same. Yamcha darted over to Bulma and the girls to shield them from the clear threat.

For the second time in Goku's life, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Every single aspect of the man above reminded him too much of Raditz. The only thing missing was a tail.

"Greetings, Kakarot."

All eyes fell on Goku, who could only watch the warrior with his jaw agape. "K-Kakarot…?!"

"Raditz wasn't lying when he said you looked like your father," he said, almost admirably. When Goku buckled away, he laughed. "Oh, where are my manners? I am Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans."

Saiyan.

Roshi, Krillin, and Bulma all shuddered at the word, remembering that day vividly. But their reactions paled in comparison to Goku's, whose outrage overpowered his shock.

"What the hell are you doin' here for, huh?" Goku asked. Behind him, his friends all exchanged unnerved looks amongst each other; never had they heard such disdain in Goku's voice before, not even towards Piccolo.

Vegeta just laughed, dismissing him just like Raditz had eight year prior. "That's no way to greet your prince."

"Enough!" Goku screamed, his voice nearly cracking. "Why are you here, and what happened to my son?!"

Seemingly recognizing Goku's righteous fury, Vegeta frowned. "I didn't come here for a fight, if that's what you think." He menacingly lowered his arms, and curled them back. "But if you've got a problem with me, I can certainly solve it for you."

Though Goku matched Vegeta's intensity, he stopped to observe his friends and the guests. Only the twins had been composed, and even that was slight; for everyone else, fear plagued their expressions. Even the hotheaded blond version of Launch trembled under the Saiyan's storm cloud.

Knowing his rage would do nothing but put all of them in danger, Goku shifted his attention back to Vegeta. "Let's do this somewhere else."

"By all means. Be a good usher and lead the way."

Though he could have certainly done without the comment, Goku was relieved that the barbarian at least leveled with him on that front. He blasted off into the sky and Vegeta followed. Whatever was going to happen, Goku knew it would end with somebody shedding blood.

As the rocks crumbled away into dust, a green being with antennae like a slug, dressed in a purple martial arts uniform, grinned with satisfaction over the destruction his blast had wrought. That man? Piccolo, the last bastion of the Demon Clan.

After agonizing for the past three years to figure out Son Goku's bizarre, mystical techniques, Piccolo had finally turned the corner. It was only a matter of time until he legitimately defeated him at full strength.

He had little time to appreciate his progress, however. Just as he picked up his white & purple turban, a Ki signature from miles away struck his mind with the force of a lightning bolt. Every inch of his skin down to the pink patches on his arms sprouted goosebumps as he looked up at the dot drawing closer into his vision.

It was weird - the Ki approaching felt like Goku, but it wasn't. It didn't quite feel evil, but it possessed a darkness absent from his lifelong enemy.

He swallowed heavily when the source of the Ki finally dropped down from the sky. It was just a boy, yet he wielded the strongest Ki Piccolo had ever felt in his life. The Ki wasn't the only thing that stood out, either; his hair resembled both that Saiyan from eight years ago, and Goku's. Same type of armor, too, though he wore the same shade of purple as his own uniform. Even his face felt familiar.

"Who the hell are you?" Piccolo demanded when the boy landed. He stared him down through his vacuous eyes, one of which possessed a scar.

The boy tilted his head to the side, as if he were studying Piccolo. "You're Picasso, aren't you?"

"Picasso?" Piccolo scoffed, humored by the misnomer. "It's Piccolo, brat. And how do you know about me? Did that other Saiyan tell you?"

When the boy smirked, he almost looked like Goku with paler skin.

"Yeah, you could say that. But in this case, that 'other Saiyan' is my father."

Piccolo's throat ran dry. "Wait a minute…"

The face, the hair, even those strangely shaped eyes. Of course!

"You're Son Goku's son, aren't you?!"

The half-Saiyan nodded.

But how? He knew he'd been kidnapped by Goku's brother, and that he briefly joined forces with Goku to help get him back. But by the time they arrived at wherever the Dragon Ball on his hat was located, he was gone. He still remembered that day vividly…

"He's down there!" Goku shouted from atop his flying Nimbus as it spiraled down to grass.

Though Piccolo nodded and followed him down, he felt a strange suspicion. Something wasn't right about this. He could sense neither that Saiyan's outrageous Ki, nor Goku's son's. But the Dragon Radar at least indicated that the ball atop the boy's hat was still around.

Piccolo grunted when he stepped onto the grass. Just as he suspected, nobody was there besides a few animals.

Goku hectically ran back and forth in search of any sign. "Gohan, daddy's here! Where are you?"

Piccolo looked around as well, though not out of concern for Gohan; he was eager to make that Saiyan pay for his taunts. Nobody looked down on him like that and lived. But he couldn't sense his Ki anywhere; not in the vicinity, and not in the distance, either.

The wind blew two peculiar things into Piccolo's face - a red hat, and a Dragon Ball with four stars on it. In other words, pieces of Gohan's outfit.

Piccolo picked the hat up from the ground. "This is your boy's hat, isn't it?"

Goku met him with speed Piccolo didn't even know he was capable of. His eyes glued themselves to the red hat. "Y-Yeah, it is…"

"But I don't sense him or Raditz anywhere." Piccolo scanned the area once more until he found a large crater off in the distance - the Saiyan's landing spot, perhaps? After dropping the hat, he flew a few feet in the air to get a closer look. Whatever hit the ground, it left an enormous crater that was still charring with smoke.

But there was nothing in the middle. Not a crater, not a ship, not anything.

Piccolo flew back down to the grass, his features indifferent as he came to the most logical conclusion. "Goku…I think the Saiyan might have taken your son and high-tailed it off the planet."

Goku finally turned himself away from the hat and the Dragon Balls to blankly stare at Piccolo. His eyes were as vacant as a corpse's. Though he stood still and arrived on a cloud, his chest heaved in and out like he'd blown all of his energy on flight. As grief overtook his features, his body shuddered.

While his son had swiftly and suddenly gone away, reality was slowly and painfully closing in on Goku.

The typically headstrong fighter collapsed onto his knees and tore at the fabric of his orange pants. A scream that hardly sounded human left his mouth as slammed his fists into the grass. With every second, his body convulsed. When Piccolo leaned in closer, he could even see tears welling up in his eyes.

He had to look away. Never had he seen Goku look so defeated. There was no getting around it; his son was gone and there was no telling when, or even if, he would ever return. Of course, the brat meant nothing to Piccolo, but the sight of Goku's grief actually unnerved him.

At the same time, though? Opportunity knocked. His fingers twitched once it dawned on him how vulnerable Goku was. Though the attack he had been working on for the last few years was still far from mastered, it would have been a cinch to unleash it on Goku in his anguished state. All he had to do was charge the attack and fire, and the son of a bitch would be out of his antennae forever. The world would be his for the taking.

And yet, the proud Demon Clansmen irritably shook his head.

Not now.

That fight at the World Martial Arts Tournament five years prior still burned Piccolo's pride. His goal, above all else, was to prove he could best Goku in battle at his very best. It didn't take a genius to tell that he was in no shape to fight at the moment. Killing him now? Too easy.

Instead, he grinned malignantly at his sworn enemy.

"So pitiful, Son Goku! Can't even protect your own flesh & blood, huh?" Goku didn't even react. He just stared bleakly at the ground. Not that it could deter Piccolo's verbal lambasting, of course. "But don't worry, I won't kill you - yet. You're so pathetic right now I can hardly look at you, much less lay hands on you."

Piccolo unleashed his Ki and turned around. He offered Goku one last glance over his shoulder.

"In due time…"

"So you're him...Son Gohan."

Piccolo had gotten a look at the kid back when he eavesdropped on Goku and Raditz's confrontation on Roshi's island. Aside from his height and the scar above his left eye, he looked more or less the same as he did back then - but carried an edge in his expression that rivaled his own. Clearly, the Saiyans had successfully taken him in. The irony made him snicker.

Gohan took on an uncomfortable frown, which Piccolo found peculiar. Of course, that didn't matter; if he was aligned with the Saiyans, then he'd obviously arrived for trouble.

"Out with it. What the hell have you crawled back here for? Trying to join forces with your father?"

"Nonsense," Gohan answered, returning Piccolo's hostility with a scowl of his own. "I'm here for the Dragon Balls."

Intrigued, Piccolo leaned back. "Dragon Balls? What for?"

"That's not important. I need them, and I have a feeling you know more about them than anybody else. I'm not here to fight - unless you have other ideas."

Piccolo dismissed him with a smirk. "Sorry; I have no clue where those blasted things are. So how about you get out of my face before I get angry?"

His fingers curling up into tight fists, a cold intensity foreign to his father's family overtook Gohan's features. "Is that a threat?"

Piccolo let his turban fall to the ground. "I prefer to call it a warning. Your fool of a father once felt what it was like to die by my hand - and if you piss me off enough, I'll extend that same courtesy to you."

The stoic half-Saiyan's dumbstruck reaction gave Piccolo his best laugh in months. "Surprised? You may have heard about me in stories, but you have no idea who I am." His devilish smirk spread wide across his lips. "But then, I don't expect some mindless, lobotomized slave to know much of anything."

That struck a nerve, because all of the shock that illuminated Gohan's face flickered to pitch black. The razor-sharp spike in his Ki made Piccolo clam up. Power the likes of which he hadn't even felt from Goku assaulted all of his senses, leaving him too flustered to properly assume a battle stance. As he watched rocks levitate around Gohan's feet, Piccolo started to understand why Raditz hauled him to space instead of risk a fight.

And an even greater comprehension arrived less than a second later in the form of a kick delivered to the center of his gut.

With no opportunity to brace himself, Piccolo sailed into one of the few cliffs he hadn't already destroyed - and toppled it with his own body. The pile of rocks that crumbled onto him might as well have been plush compared to the pain that single kick rained down onto his entire body. When he finally swatted away the clutter and cut his vision through all of the dust, Gohan was hovering above him.

The corrosive, loathsome glare on his face made even the offspring of the Demon King himself wonder who was the real devil among the two.

"That was your first and last warning," Gohan said with a sinister calm. "If you won't help me, then I'll figure it out myself. Stay out of my way."

Gohan flew away. A few moments later, Piccolo collapsed; even standing up had taken every ounce of effort after that kick. Never in either his predecessor's or his reincarnated lifetime had he been hit so hard. He dug his claws into the gravel, consumed with resentment.

Yet another defeat at the hands of Goku's family. Same shit, different Saiyan.

As Vegeta flew, he could see Goku's head subtly tilt towards him almost every 5 seconds or so. Without a doubt, he was wrestling with a chaotic mix of emotions and struggling to keep his grip. Though Vegeta certainly understood why he'd be so angry in his presence, he still found it funny. The loss of his son was his own damn fault for being weak. The true Saiyan warriors raised Gohan the proper way - it was a matter Goku's poisoned mind could never grasp.

Then again, Vegeta may have had to retract his "weak" assessment. He felt a formidable Ki from Goku; though he had no numerical reference, it utterly dwarfed the miserable 334 reading Raditz had gotten from him.

But it had only been eight years since that day – how in the hell could he, a low-class fighter, have gotten that much stronger on a backwater planet? And if Gohan had used him as a reference for controlling his power, then Vegeta suspected he was hiding far more under wraps.

Goku finally stopped at a chilly area far removed from where they'd met. Mountains and cliffs filled the outer reaches of the barren, stone terrain. They landed on low ground, where the surface wasn't as cluttered. A good few feet of space stood between the two Saiyans.

Wind as heavy as the tension whirred through the air as Goku and Vegeta stared each other down. Raditz's younger brother stood firm even in the face of Vegeta's cold stare. The prince smirked; had he not been born from low-class stock, Goku might have made a respectable warrior. But regardless of his powerful son, or admittedly improved strength, Vegeta had no reason to see him for anything other than what he was - a commoner.

At the same time, though? Vegeta's subconscious assaulted him again for spending all of those years settling for Frieza's way. Goku's exponential improvement just staying on Earth slapped him across the face.

"Are we just gonna stare at each other all day?" Goku snapped, breaking the silence. "What're you here for? Better yet, what happened to my son? I've been on the other side and I know he's not dead."

The last time Vegeta saw a look like Goku's glare, it was when Gohan reacted to his cruel commentary of his mother; or, Goku's mate, he realized.

The surrealness of his circumstances made Vegeta shake his head. Nevertheless, he remained steadfast. "Your son is of no concern. I'm here for another purpose."

"Such as?" Seemingly on instinct, Goku walked on a circular path and sized Vegeta up with his eyes.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow; Raditz had certainly called the lack of accomodation. "Itching for a fight, are we?"

"You got a lotta nerve showin' your face here after what your people did to Gohan," Goku seethed.

"OUR people," Vegeta indignantly corrected, "Would vomit at the traitor you've turned out to be, Kakarot."

"Don't you ever call me by that name! I'm Son Goku, not Kakarot." Venom dripped from every last syllable of Goku's words. "I said it to my brother and I'll say the same thing to you: I am no Saiyan. I'm not a rotten bastard that would take another man's son away from him."

"You dare spit on your heritage, third class?" Vegeta asked, his veins swelling with disgust.

"What do you think?"

Vegeta humorlessly chuckled. "I see now, Kakarot. A stupid part of me actually hoped you would be there to witness me avenge our fallen race. Clearly, that won't be happening. Every breath a turncoat like you takes is an assault to my honor as your prince."

Reining in his temper, Vegeta froze and folded his arms. "But I'll finish you only after I've beaten the information I need out of you."

"Information? What are you talking about?"

Vegeta pointed his finger in Goku's face. "The Dragon Balls. How can I find them?"

Alarmed, Goku stepped back. "Dragon Balls?"

Vegeta smashed his boot into the gravel. "Did I stutter? Tell me how to find them!"

"Hold on - how do you know about the Dragon Balls?" Goku lightly gasped and lifted his head up at the sky, but quickly returned his focus to Vegeta. "Who could have possibly told you about that?"

"Me."

Chapter Text

Vegeta’s ally dropped down from the sky and stared intently at Goku. The earth-raised Saiyan had sensed his approach in the middle of his shouting match with Vegeta but almost thought he had hallucinated the absurd Ki he sensed from him. Little did he know, actually seeing him would dwarf the anxiety his power brought.

It was a boy, nearly equaling Vegeta in height. Granted, Vegeta wasn’t exactly the tallest guy Goku had ever met and only a fool would mistake him for a kid; but the new fighter possessed the softer face and thinner frame of a pubescent child, not a grown man. He wore the same gold-plated outfit as Vegeta, though both his body suit and armor were purple like Piccolo’s uniform as opposed to the elder’s royal blue and white garbs.

That wasn’t what thinned Goku’s breath, though. It was the long, spiky hair that vaguely resembled his own at the top. The pale skin, like his wife’s. The way he tersely stared at Goku through eyes that were both soft like his own, and calloused like Vegeta’s. All he could see was the face of a boy that for the last eight years, he could only find in his memories and old pictures around his home.

The wheels spun in his head and cranked his jaw open. No...no. He couldn’t be. Right?

“Who...who are you?” Goku heaved through a constricted throat. It came out as both a statement and a question; one side of his brain didn’t want to acknowledge what the other was slowly concluding.

The younger warrior curled his lips back with disgust. 

“You know exactly who I am... father. ”

The blood in Goku’s veins ran cold. All that came from his mouth were incoherent babbles and gasps; he was utterly speechless. This wasn’t just any typical Saiyan in front of him - it was his half-Saiyan son, the boy he’d lost eight years ago, at last back in his sight. 

Son Gohan.

A cyclone of emotions rampaged through Goku’s brain, leaving him a gawking and sputtering mess. Gohan had grown, yet in many ways he looked the same. The hair was every bit the shaggy mess Chi-Chi often complained about. But it was his eyes and outfit that told the real story. It wasn’t just the scar over his left eye that plainly denoted the violence he had been subjected to. It was the below-freezing gust of emptiness inside both of them, bereft of all the wondrous joy Goku once adored.

He had become one of them . The very monster he hated more than anything in his life.

With the way Gohan’s features apprehensively tightened, emotions were clearly overtaking him just as much. Goku doubted his son had any reference material from which to see his face again; this was his first time actually seeing him in any form since that day . Yet, more than anything else, he seemed resentful.

“Are we just going to stare at each other all day?” Vegeta asked with a devious smirk, lampooning Goku from earlier.

“Gohan…!” Goku finally spoke. “How...why? I thought you were...then I thought…”

Goku closed his eyes and bit his lip, trying to properly articulate the mess in his head. After a deep breath, he opened them back up.

“I thought I’d never see you again. I can’t even tell you how relieved I am right now. ”

Like many of his enemies had done towards him, Gohan narrowed his eyes. “I guess one of us has to be.”

For the first time in years, anguish overwhelmed Goku. Gohan’s voice, unusually deep and raspy even as a toddler thanks to an explosive case of colic, had barely changed. But he didn’t expect the words he’d hear from them again to be so harsh.

“What do you mean?” When he darted his eyes back and forth between Gohan’s sneer and Vegeta’s goading smirk, he got his answer.

“Please...don’t tell me you let someone like him,” Goku pointed his finger at the elder Saiyan prince, “Turn you into a-”

“A what?” Gohan pointedly interrupted. “A savage? A killer? A monster? ”

Goku hung his head and looked away from his son.

Gohan approached him with bluster. “I didn’t come here for your judgment. Call me whatever the hell you want; I really don’t care.”

More perceptive than most gave him credit for, Goku flinched at the pang of distress in Gohan’s tone. The shakiness of his voice and the way his Ki flickered gave it away. His judgment, that he didn’t even have to finish communicating, had hurt him.

Gohan forcefully pointed his thumb at his own chest, aiming at Goku the stern glare of a man far beyond his years. “I’m a survivor . That’s all you need to know, dad. ”

The razor-sharp icicle accompanying that last word hit Goku harder than Raditz’s knee to his stomach.

“I did what I had to do to survive in the real world, not a hopeless backwater planet like this .” Gohan lowered his boastful, pointing hand, and tightened it into a shaky fist. “I’m a true Saiyan warrior now, not some low-class filth who couldn’t even protect his own goddamn son.”

The language, the callousness, the misery. It all forced Goku to shake his head.

“Gohan, I did everything I could to find you. I went all through space until my fuel ran out.” Just like his son, Goku’s hands balled up into fists. “I even tried to use the Dragon Balls, and not even the Dragon-”

“I know.”

Flabbergasted, Goku’s eyes jumped up. “What?”

“The Dragon contacted me when you made that wish. I refused.”

Goku’s heart twisted in his chest like a damp shirt being wrung out. Even Vegeta blinked with confusion.

“What do you mean?” Goku heaved.

“I told him to tell you whatever would get you to stop looking for me,” Gohan harshly replied.

“Why?” Goku asked, feeling like sand was in his throat. Learning that his search had been cut short not by outside forces, but rejected by the very son he was searching for took all of the air out of him. “I, I…”

“I’d just got done wiping out an entire army single-handedly,” Gohan boasted. While Vegeta approvingly smirked at the story, Goku felt his strength leaving his feet. This couldn’t have been his bright, sometimes worrisome little boy, boasting about wide scale destruction like he was King Piccolo. 

When Gohan smirked at him and looked more like a shorter, stronger version of Raditz, Goku’s mangled heart crumbled.

“After realizing how much power I’d gained, how stupid would I have been to leave that for you? ”

Just as Goku was about to lose his resolve entirely, Gohan clenched his teeth and looked away, his left eye pulsing. His eyes were planted to the ground as his entire body quivered, as if grief had been ripping away at him. It was then that Goku noticed the sweat that had been drenching Gohan's forehead since he began his boasts.

Vegeta seemed to notice, too, voicing an uneasy grunt and stepping in front of him. He let his eyes pensively linger on Gohan just enough for Goku to take note before taking control of the conversation.

“Enough,” Vegeta growled. “We didn’t come here for a father-son therapy session. We’re here for one reason, and one reason only: the Dragon Balls. Tell me how to find them before things get ugly.”

Goku snuck at glance at Gohan. His son wearily side-eyed Vegeta.

Shaking away his shock, Goku circled back to the subject preceding his son’s arrival. “Okay. Okay. First of all, what do you two even need the Dragon Balls for?”

“It’s simple, really: immortality,” Vegeta replied. “Gohan learned about them from you, and apparently you’ve used them before. So I know you know how to find them. Point us in the right direction and this will be simple.”

“Immortality? What do you take me for?” Goku sneered. “Why would I ever let someone like you get your hands on that?”

Gohan prepared to speak, but Vegeta cut him off.

“Someone like me ?” Vegeta echoed. “I’ve just about had it up to here with the tone you take towards me, third-class. I will-”

This time, Gohan was the one doing the interruptions, growling both at Goku and Vegeta. “We don’t have time for this! We need those Dragon Balls!”

“Just what would you do with immortality, huh?” Goku asked, pointing more towards Vegeta than his son.

“You tell me,” Vegeta said with a grim smile that sent a shiver down Goku’s smile.

“Goddammit!” Gohan shouted with a stomp, alarming both full-blooded Saiyans. “ Enough, Vegeta!”

Vegeta recoiled with a resentful growl, but didn’t say or do anything to contest him. In fact, he relented and stepped back; though he certainly didn’t look happy about it. Gohan looked into his father again, with the same painful expression that had been the last thing Goku had seen of him before today.

“Our lives are in danger, father,” Gohan said, every syllable delivered with a tremble. That edge frostbiting his speech had vanished. “People I…!”

Gohan cut himself off, staring at his right hand before squeezing it into a fist. He closed his eyes and only opened them back up after a soothing exhale.

“Look, someone way more powerful than anything you can imagine wants us dead. A low-class fighter like you can’t help us.” Goku flinched at his son’s dismissive assessment. “And that’s why we need immortality to handle it.”

“Is it Frieza?”

Gohan and Vegeta’s eyes nearly jumped out of their skulls.

“What the…?” Vegeta shouted. “How do you know?”

Goku shrugged. “Long story short, I got killed a couple years ago. I kept my body and trained under a deity in Other World and asked him ‘bout the Saiyans. He said y’all worked for a guy named Frieza but refused to tell me anything else. What he looked like, where he was; anything.”

He gestured his head to Gohan. “Said the same thing you did - ‘more powerful than I can imagine.’”

With a spirited smirk that made both Saiyan soldiers share quizzical glances, Goku scoffed. “Like that would ever stop me. Ever since I got wished back, I’ve been trainin’ to fight him. As much as I can, at least. Whether you were alive or not, Gohan, I knew I had to get a crack at him.”

Dumbfounded, Gohan stepped back while Vegeta focused his eyes like were trying to X-Ray Goku’s head. He spoke with complete conviction, even while grappling with his emotions.

Finally, Vegeta scoffed. “Well you can train all you want. I’ve been ‘training’ my entire damn life for him, fighting people who could wipe the floor with you ten times over. It’s gotten me nowhere. If even the Gods themselves fear Frieza, then clearly you see why we need the Dragon Balls. So what’s it going to be?”

Goku studied his son and Vegeta, searching for the valor that they either lacked or had snuffed out by years of servitude.

“Look, Gohan. At the end of the day, you’re still my son.” Again, Gohan looked away. Goku focused on Vegeta with his best effort to stifle his general resentment for his ilk. “ I can help. But not with the Dragon Balls. You two havin’ immortality is dangerous.”

Gohan fiercely whipped his head back up and scowled with deep bitterness. “Is that so, dad ?”

Goku cursed his choice of words. Before he could explain himself, Gohan took the footstep of an imperiled wolf towards him.

“What? Do you think I’m gonna kill you, is that it?”

He took another step.

“Kill my mother, my grandfather?”

Another step. His eyes watered.

“Your friends from the island?”

Another step. Aura ignited around his body.

“Every living thing? Like every other planet I’ve been on?! Is that it?!”

Even Vegeta’s throat knotted up and down. Despair anchored every word Gohan spoke, retching his voice when they left his mouth. After all of the years of undoubtable baggage and violence, Gohan in that moment sounded exactly as he did when he cried over food or when he took a boo-boo in their outdoor excursions. When he cried for Goku in the clutches of his uncle’s arms.

With a pleading, sorrowful whimper of his own, Goku reached his hand out. “Gohan, please-”

It took the instincts Goku spent his entire life honing to block the wild fist that blitzed into his face. But his palm only barely withstand the force of Gohan’s intense Ki and strength; his knees buckled under the weight

“What’s wrong, huh?!” Gohan shrieked while blood vessels lined his unhinged eyes. “You can’t tell me how fucking evil I am anymore?!”

“J-Just listen!”

His son was giving him no choice. He’d have to use that technique.

“Kaio-”

But before he got a chance, Gohan kicked him in the chest so hard he shot across the landscape, his body heading for the largest of the cliffs. Of course, the colossal rock was a pebble compared to the force of manic energy storming after him.

After gathering himself and halting his flight, Goku concentrated on all of the energy in his body. Again, however, his attempt at unleashing his special move was cut short - but not at all how he expected. Vegeta had chased after Gohan and roughly swiped him away. Goku froze, dumbstruck.

“Get a hold of yourself, kid!” Vegeta shouted after Gohan crashed into the rocks. Either Goku was going crazy, or Vegeta’s tone almost carried some protective compassion.

Vegeta turned around and flew towards Goku, stopping a few feet away from him. “Your son’s the volatile type. Teenagers, right?” he said with a snicker. “I did you a favor. Now let’s fight over the Dragon Balls like civilized Saiyans, shall we?”

Goku didn’t appreciate Vegeta trivializing the fragile mindstate he assuredly bore some responsibility for. He flew down, ready to finally take out his frustration on the Saiyan race - his own people - for what they did to him and his son. In just that brief moment, he could see all of the pain Gohan carried; a crushing reminder of his worst failure.

Vegeta landed on a canyon high above the ground, his arms folded and that wide, arrogant smile ever-present on his face. “You should be thrilled, Kakarot! It’s not every day a low-class fighter such as yourself earns the privilege of a super elite smacking them around.”

Goku rolled his eyes. These Saiyans seemed stuck on “class” this, and “class” that.

“We Saiyans have our power levels inspected when we’re born. The weak filth with low readings get sent off to harmless planets with nobody strong,” Vegeta continued. “So in other words, you were cast out like a dog. Your only worth was knocking up an Earthling woman and producing a powerful hybrid.”

“Guess Earth ain’t as weak as you think it is, then,” Goku said with a snort. “And besides, even a low-class outcast can defeat an elite if he tried hard enough.”

“Don’t make me laugh. Now, let me show you a wall you can’t scale through effort alone.”

Vegeta crouched into a fighting stance, raising one arm above his head and tucking the other one back. Goku did the same, bending down at an angle with his left arm raised. He didn’t miss Vegeta’s curious blinks at his stance. Though he couldn’t gauge the full extent of Vegeta’s power, he was no less determined to fight him. Thrilled, even. With a primal scream, he leapt into the sky to cast the first strike.

Gohan pushed the pile of rocks off of his body, hissing both in pain and agitation while he stumbled back up. What the hell was Vegeta doing, attacking him like that? Even when he was now the weaker of the two, he evidently still presumed himself as the boss.

He’d calmed down considerably, however. In that brief moment earlier, he truly desired to tear his father apart for condemning him so bluntly. Such a rebuke had been one of the many reasons he dreaded returning home until backed into a corner. What the hell did his father know, anyway? If he hadn’t bumped his head like an idiot, he would have been no better. Would have done Gohan a hell of a favor and prevented his birth, too.

A sellout. That was what his father was. The very thing Kiyomi always tried to steer him away from. Even if he was against Frieza, Goku had rejected who he truly was. And when his son was assimilated into the Saiyan way, he rejected him too.

And after everything Gohan had been through, after all of the years of sabotaging himself to protect Earth, after triggering the entire situation to protect another planet, being considered a danger struck his deepest nerve. His fear had been finally confirmed - to the rest of the universe, to even his own father, he really was just another one of Frieza’s loathsome goons.

And the worst part was, lashing out so explosively on his own father proved it. If Vegeta hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him. His grasp of his power during those fits was too tenuous.

After cracking away the tightness in his neck from that cheapshot, Gohan flew over to where he sensed his father and Vegeta fighting. What he saw, and what he felt , had left him floored. The prince and the pauper were fighting toe to toe - Vegeta would throw an attack, and Goku would strike back.

And even though his Ki didn’t quite measure up to Vegeta’s, Goku’s was damn close.

“I’d bet anything your father would wreck everyone’s shit if he’s ever able to find you.”

He could almost see Kobe’s ghost floating across from, smug satisfaction on his face while he ran back their last conversation. With how often Vegeta and Nappa brought it up, and how woeful Raditz had always been, Gohan thought his father would never amount to anything in the grand scheme of the universe. He had thought it was impossible to become powerful without one throwing away their morals. 

If that were true, then how did Goku go from lying helplessly while Raditz took his son away, to keeping up with Saiyan royalty in a matter of eight years?

The two Saiyans met in a clash and threw a hurricane of attacks with each other - Vegeta was a step faster, but Goku’s instincts were perhaps the sharpest Gohan had ever seen, holding the warrior off even when outmatched. Despite rejecting everything his father stood for, Gohan had applied his father’s fighting philosophy in contrast to the brute force the Frieza Force favored; he couldn’t help but admire his skill.

But skill was just one component of battle - and soon, Vegeta’s raw power started to prevail. He slammed Goku away from him with a vicious elbow to the center of his face, and though Goku thwarted a crash landing with a deft backflip, Vegeta was right behind him. He dodged another elbow from the flame-haired Saiyan by the strand of his spiky palm tree-like mane, but couldn’t land a kick. 

As they traded more unsuccessful strikes, Vegeta goaded Goku, clearly in his element. “What’s wrong, Kakarot?! Where’s your power?! ”

He drove his foot into Goku’s gut, laughing as he did. And though Goku had the presence of mind to block a follow-up kick, the two clubbed Saiyan prince arms struck him back down.

But like an expert gymnast, Goku flipped into another clean landing. Unconsciously, incredulously, Gohan shook his head and laughed. It was all the little things. Forget what the more savage Saiyans had said about his father - the man was a fighting genius.

Cracking a sweat, Goku laughed. “Whelp, looks like I’ll have to do it, then.”

His acute hearing picking Goku up, Gohan quizzically arched his eyebrow. As Goku crouched down and roared into the skies, even Vegeta froze with intrigue. 

“KAIO-KEN!”

A blazing red aura exploded around Earth’s greatest Saiyan, shaking every rock in the vicinity. Gohan flinched; his father’s Ki hadn’t just been producing strong wind currents, but a smoldering heat that turned the wasteland into an outdoor furnace. 

When Goku’s Ki literally doubled , both Vegeta and Gohan turned into squawking statues.

At supersonic speed, Goku met Vegeta and ravaged him with a punch of such ferocity, even the shockwave knocked Gohan over. Even when the boy stood back up, his jaw remained on the ground. The prince was without a paddle; a split-second after that first rib-shattering strike, Goku blasted his elbow into his face, reducing him to a flame-haired missile spiraling into the terrain.

The crash never came - because Goku zipped down and caught Vegeta with just a single hand to his spine. Never had Gohan heard a scream from Vegeta so agonized. And in a move that likely dealt worse to his pride than the hand had to his spine, Goku tossed Vegeta away like a mattress with one piss stain too many.

Gohan couldn’t even find the words. In all of his years with Vegeta, he had only seen Zarbon and Dodoria rough him up so easily. Where the hell had that burst of strength come from? His father’s Ki had felt peculiar in Gohan’s mind; it didn’t rise so much as it intensified , as if it had been injected with a stimulant.

Like a candle’s flame dying off, Goku’s red aura zapped away. His Ki collapsed back to normal as he wiped his forehead off and breathed wearily. Vegeta, meanwhile, convulsed and coughed.

“I’d bet anything your father would wreck everyone’s shit if he’s ever able to find you.”

“I’d bet anything your father would wreck everyone’s shit if he’s ever able to find you.”

“I’d bet anything your father would wreck everyone’s shit if he’s ever able to find you.”

It just kept replaying like a loop. Kobe had been right. Painfully, brutally right. Gohan, Vegeta, all the Saiyans truly had been cowards all along. Not just cowards - foolish cowards. Stay on Frieza’s good side, destroy planets, and take your beatings like a man - that was the code they all lived by to survive and one day be free. Even when Frieza did everything they could to obstruct the process, they kept chugging along. 

And Gohan’s father - the low-class Saiyan from Earth - standing tall, while Vegeta - the super-elite Saiyan Prince and one of Frieza’s finest soldiers - laying shattered on the ground decisively showed where that got them.

Having only just noticed Gohan’s presence, Goku turned to face him. Though firm, his eyes lost the fierceness dished towards Vegeta. 

“That’s a technique I learned in Other World. I can already tell you’re stronger than this guy, but I can take it even higher than that in short bursts.”

Gohan’s jaw flexed. That wasn’t some benevolent educational break - his stern body language, tone, and expression plainly exposed it as a warning. Just fine, as far as Gohan was concerned - burst or no burst, not even the Kaio-Ken could measure up to his power.

After floating closer to Goku, Gohan looked down at Vegeta to examine him more closely. Though he was in immense agony, his fury tore through every cough and gasp for air. Repeatedly, he tried sitting back up but jerked down every time. 

“Son of a bitch!” Vegeta spat. “I’ll...I’ll kill you! I swear it!”

Despite how ardently Goku rebuked his Saiyan heritage, his domineering gaze over Vegeta’s nearly crippled body told a tale of satisfaction. And even though Vegeta had given him a lifetime’s worth of shit to be bitter about, Gohan bristled at seeing him reduced to such a state.

“Do you really want to do this, father?”

“Nope.”

Gohan clenched his fingers in and out. His father was more clever than he remembered. 

“Then just tell us how to find the Dragon Balls. You’re not even half as strong as I am without your trick.”

Instead of backing away in fear, Goku smirked. “You’re really that strong, now? Guess I shouldn’ta listened to your mother about the whole scholar thing.”

Gohan almost chopped off the tip of his tongue from biting it so hard. Even the mention of his mother made him tense. And not just that - what the hell was his father’s angle? If he was trying to win Gohan over with humor, it wasn’t going to work.

“If you train like I do, you won’t even need the Dragon Balls.” Goku frowned thoughtfully. “I meant it when I said it: you’re still my son. Even if you’re...different now, I still want to help.”

Gohan snarled. “Want to help?! You don’t even trust me with the Dragon Balls, so don’t act for one second like you’re okay with me.”

When Goku hung his head, it was the only reply Gohan needed. From the moment he landed on Earth, Gohan’s already thin grasp of his emotions had loosened even further; his grief and fury that nearly led him to killing the man below him heated back up. 

“I can guarantee you Frieza knows where we are,” Gohan said through cracks of his voice. “It’s too late for your little training plan. We don’t have time anymore!”

When Gohan brought up the danger facing his and Vegeta’s lives earlier, he thought of Arepa and Kiyomi. Their faces returned to his mind like a curse. He hadn’t spoken to them since he left. He had no idea where they were, or if they were even alive. Every second he agonized over them withered his heart.

“Just have faith, Gohan!”

“In what? You? ”

The toxins that laced Gohan’s voice made Goku recoil like he really had been poisoned.

“The last time I had faith in you, all you could do was lie on your back and yell for me like a fucking dog .” An ugly shadow cast over Gohan’s features. “And it only took…”

Gohan warped in front of him.

“A kick!”

Gohan swung his leg to kick his father exactly as Raditz did.

With a burst of crimson aura, Goku lifted his forearm and blocked it.

“I’m sorry, Gohan,” Goku said, straining both to handle the Kaio-Ken and his son’s leg. “I failed you.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.”

Gohan lowered his leg and batted Goku away with only a shockwave. Instead of flying at him again like Gohan typically expected in a fight, Goku went backwards to flee him. With a growl, Gohan lunged in rabid pursuit.

“Fight me!”

Even with the Kaio-Ken, Goku’s speed still lagged behind Gohan’s. His son was on him in seconds to drop a hammer of a punch; Goku had no choice but to bat his fist away at the cost of a few bones in his hands. 

“I’m dangerous, aren’t I?” Gohan seethed. He swung at him again. “Or is your planet just another thing you can’t protect?”

As Goku held off another punch, Gohan examined his eyes. He could see it - he was getting under his skin. The next punch he threw finally knocked Goku down, though his father yet again broke his own fall. But all of his finesse couldn’t save him from the devastating kick Gohan mashed into his jaw a microsecond later. He finally crashed into the ground, leaving a small crater underneath himself. His aura dispersed, reducing his power to normal while he heaved for air.

“If I’m so bad, I could kill you right now,” Gohan said, hardly recognizing his own voice. “And then what?!”

Offering no answer, Goku stood back up. He gripped one hand against the fabric of his orange gi and blue undershirt with his head to the ground. Against his son’s scathing diatribes, his Ki flickered wildly.

“So stop being soft and fight !” Desperation flooded Gohan’s voice. He had heard those same words yelled at himself more times than he could ever count.

In a swift motion, Goku tore off half of his gi and looked up at his son. Gohan recognized the fire in his father’s eyes from the three other Saiyans he’d known for most of his life. His fists tightened, his shoulders squared, Goku finally looked prime for battle.

“Fine!”

Instinctively, Gohan smirked.

“Kaio-Ken, times three!”

And then, Gohan frowned.

Times three ?

It wasn’t just Goku’s Ki that expanded - his muscles pumped up like balloons as his power literally filled him out. The entire wasteland shook, from the pebbles, to the rocks, to the formidable cliffs; even Vegeta’s limp body finally regained movement. With the clouds of dust that built up around Goku and his blazing aura, he quite literally looked like a one-man wildfire.

As Goku’s roars filled the air and amplifying Ki rocked the air, sweat streamed down Gohan’s cheeks. In his rage, he refused to acknowledge his father’s worth; the radical shift in tides forced him to face the cold, harsh reality. Just as he had feared, his father’s Ki tripled .

In more pertinent terms: Goku’s strength had pushed past his own.

Goku propelled from the rocks like gunpowder coated the bottom of his soles and smashed Gohan’s face with his supercharged fist. Gohan fell with only a blurry view of the clouds above him, because Goku instantly escaped his eyesight. The next thing he knew, his still-developing spine bent from the crushing force of his father’s blue boots. Not even his quick recovery could help him, because Goku came right back and kicked all of the saliva out of his mouth. 

After crashing into the ground, Gohan kipped up and fired a blast. It amounted to one of the many rattles Goku would swat away during the temper tantrums of his terrible twos. With his mind too frazzled, and Goku frankly too fast for his eyes to keep up, Gohan was left defenseless. Goku creeped back up on him again and drove his knee into that same spine. By sheer luck, Gohan flipped himself up after the tip of his boot brushed against the ground; but his last gasp of a punch only met air before Goku showed him how a man delivered one, wrenching his gut with his fist.

Clutching his stomach, spitting up blood, Gohan crumbled onto his knees. Whether it was mercy, or his power finally burning out, Goku relinquished his energy and hopped back. Despite the excruciating level of pain electrifying Gohan’s body, and despite Vegeta’s perpetual struggle to find his feet, Goku looked the most hurt out of anyone in the wasteland.

The following emotions hit Gohan in succession: shock, over the beating. Shame, not just over the beating, but the paradoxical whirlwind of thoughts that made him foolishly doubt his father as much as he sought his approval. And wrath , over the beating.

 “I can keep pushing at that level without wrecking my body,” Goku said through ragged breaths. “We don’t have to do this anymore, son.”

Another warning.

“Shut up,” Gohan said beneath a wad of his half-Saiyan, half-human blood. When Goku yelped in surprise, Gohan rose back on both feet.

 “Shut. Up! ”

Goku went on neither offense nor defense, just staring down his son and his erratically fluctuating Ki in awe.

“I ran once!” In contrast to Goku’s red Kaio-Ken aura, a blue aura exploded around Gohan. “Nappa and Raditz didn’t die for nothing!”

Goku blinked and staggered back like he lost his ability to think. “What?!”

“I can’t be weak!” The ground shook beneath the force of his energy. His eyes even glowed. “I’ll be as good as dead!”

Even under the pressure of Gohan’s power, Goku stayed firm against the ground. His stance possessed no malice, however.

“You’re not the only one with people to protect,” Gohan said, his body shivering as he pictured Arepa and her ice-blue eyes. “You’re not the only who’s failed!”

Gohan crouched down, his right arm lowered and his left arm raised. Goku blinked a few times, but nodded as if in recognition.

“I won’t fail again!”

Before Goku could mount a defense, Gohan sent him sailing with an elbow to his face. Pushing his Ki past his own limits, he let out a ferocious scream while his aura toppled dozens of cliffs surrounding him. He crouched down, cupping his hands together and channeling his latent power.

“KA...ME…”

Goku sprang back up with the last thing Gohan expected - a smile. A smile as competitive as it was genuine. In fact, he powered up and assumed the same stance.

“KA...ME…”

Energy burned around both father and son’s hands. 

“HA...ME…”

Even the sky darkened from the force of energy in the air.

“HA...ME…

Gohan fired.

“HA!!!!”

Goku fired.

“HA!!!!”

Blue typhon met red inferno in an explosive clash of Ki. What was left of the mountains reduced to dust while whatever small objects and animals lurking about sucked into the pull of Saiyan energy. Neither father nor son would budge, even as their feet sank deep into the gravel beneath them. Reserve power that Gohan didn’t know he had pushed him through, leaving him at a dead heat with Goku and his Kaio-Ken-fueled Kamehameha. It was a surreal feeling, putting the signature attack he’d adopted against the very man he picked it up from. For eight years, it was his lone piece of home.

Hidden within the confines of Gohan’s mind was a jewel of happiness.

But, his father gave him no time to savor it.

“KAIO-KEN….TIMES FOUR!”

No amount of hidden power could stop the propulsion of Ki that quickly overtook Gohan’s blast. Times four?! How many levels could Goku take that technique up to? And how had he learned it? Gohan yelled in horror as his blast withered against his father’s. Haplessly, he kept pushing, even if it would give him no way of escaping the incoming pain. Though he was sure he would survive it, he knew it wouldn’t bode well for his chance at victory.

But then, both blasts detonated just moments before Goku’s hit. 

After an eruption of light and smoke, Gohan shielded both his eyes and body with his arms but fell down against the propulsive shockwaves. As he coughed away the dust filling his lungs, he wondered what miracle had saved him from the destructive wave.

When he turned around after the chaos dissipated, he realized it hadn't been a miracle - it had been Vegeta.

Like eight years prior on Zuna, the planet Gohan ended up on when he tried escaping to the very planet they were on now, the flame-haired prince stood dozens of feet away with his hand raised. But he wasn’t the robust, dignified monument of unattainable power he had been to Gohan on that day; instead he stood hunched over, gasping for air with a litany of bruises plastering his face.

Saved yet again by the prince.

Vegeta fell onto one knee, in search of his breath. He wasn’t the only one worse for wear - Goku’s muscles throbbed, having been pushed too far by that last burst of power. His Ki had dropped noticeably, and not just from the loss of his Kaio-Ken boost.

When Gohan turned around, he fixed Vegeta with a half-scowl. Though he somewhat appreciated the help, there was always a silent understanding among Saiyans not to jump in each other’s fights unless asked. Gohan had given Vegeta the same courtesy even after he literally knocked him out of the way. If he were the cruel type, he could have struck him down for that; that was Vegeta’s preferred way of correcting his subordinates.

Seemingly recognizing Gohan’s annoyance, Vegeta scoffed. “This is my fight, now! Nobody’s going anywhere until I’ve destroyed this miserable peasant!”

“Been there, done that, runt .”

All three Saiyans looked up at the sky. An odd sense of relief came over Goku when he saw the shades of green and purple.

“Piccolo!”

His arch-nemesis snorted in disgust as he jumped down and stood by his side. The scowl on his green face gave him a laugh. “Y’know, I shoulda been countin’ on you showin’ up all along.”

“Nonsense,” Piccolo replied. “When these two are through with, I’ll be killing you next. Again .”

With a smirk, Goku clutched the left side of his chest and obnoxiously groaned while Piccolo’s antennae twitched. “Aww man, I think my heart’s goin’ bad again. Guess that means you got a chance!”

“Shut the hell up.”

As Goku snickered, Vegeta and Gohan drew closer. Vegeta gazed at Piccolo studiously. 

“I’ve got a bone to pick with your son, actually,” Piccolo said as he winced and placed a hand over his stomach. “I’m here to finish what we started.”

“Cat’s out the bag then, huh?”

“Yeah.” Though annoyed, Piccolo turned to his rival with a callous smile. “Pretty ironic your son went and embraced the genoicde business. Not too shabby of a career move, if I’m being honest. Least he’s got my approval.”

A low blow. Though Goku had long grown numb to Piccolo’s provocations.

“So you’re the Namekian, then,” Vegeta said. Both Goku and Piccolo shook with surprise.

“Namekian?” Piccolo repeated, uncharacteristically aghast.

“You didn’t know? You fit the description - green skin, pointy ears, and antennae.”

“Whoa, so you’re an alien like me?” Goku asked. “Heh, guess that’s another thing we got in common.”

Piccolo didn’t respond with even so much as a growl as he stood frozen with an empty gaze. Rarely had the demonic reincarnation been lost for words; though Goku understood exactly what was going through his mind. Piccolo’s face was no different from his when he discovered his own origin.

“They say besides abnormally high power levels, Namekians wield magic techniques, too,” Vegeta explained, though Piccolo didn’t appear to be listening. “ And they were said to possess mystical items that could grant wishes.”

Goku blinked. That didn’t sound exactly like Piccolo, but it sure as hell sounded like his good half.

Folding his arms, Vegeta smirked. “From that dumb look on your face, I presume that rings a bell? Then that means you created the Dragon Balls.”

He was half-right, at least.

“So either you can tell us how to find them or you can perish with Kakarot.” Vegeta dropped his arms and balled up his fists. “Your move, slugger .”

Instead of giving Vegeta the answer he wanted, Piccolo laughed with a renewed resolve. “I actually have to thank you. I know a little bit about my heritage, now. But you’re wrong - I didn’t make the Dragon Balls. I’m more of the fighting type, you see.”

The Namekian warrior crouched down and stuck one of his clawed hands out. “So let’s see how much of a slug I am, you little marmoset !”

Beneath all the tension, something happened: Gohan cracked a brief, humorous smile that an eye even a sliver less keen than Goku’s would have missed. Neither he nor Vegeta knew what Piccolo had just called the latter, but it evidently uncovered just a glimmer of the boy Goku once knew.

A little more relaxed, Goku cracked his neck. “Teaming up again, huh Piccolo? Saiyans sure do have a way of bringin’ us together.”

“And you have a way of making me want to cave in your skull.”

While Goku laughed, the two Saiyans crouched down into fighting stances.

“I’ll take Picasso ,” Gohan said with a snicker that made the Namekian’s veins nearly burst from his head. “I guess he wasn’t happy with one beating.”

For the second time, warmth filled Goku’s chest. Goten, still learning how to speak, frequently called Piccolo by that misnomer, too. It was no time for happy thoughts, though - with the way Vegeta leered at him like a T-Rex to his triceratops, Goku had a feeling the prince couldn’t wait to crush him.

As soon as Goku even moved an inch, Vegeta pounced on him with his elbow out. It stung his aching bones, but Goku blocked it with his forearm. Though he’d mastered the Kaio-Ken up to five-fold, going quadruple for a full-throttle Kamehameha had thrown his body through the ringer. But Vegeta’s own power had diminished a great deal as he still reeled from his back injury. They threw flurries of attacks towards each other, fighting at a dead heat.

The same couldn’t be said for Gohan and Piccolo. Even a Gohan struck down by his supercharged father’s most crushing attacks was still the strongest of the four by a good margin. He made the more experienced Namekian warrior look like an amateur with how easily he evaded his attacks. At the same time, though, Piccolo was every bit as polished as Goku; perhaps even more.

With his wits alone, Piccolo blocked an incoming kick to his back after Gohan phased behind him; he didn’t even need to turn around. As soon as Gohan lowered his leg, Piccolo slammed the back of his shiny, prominent skull into Gohan’s forehead. The point-blank hit propelled Gohan backwards and left a good deal of distance between the two lavender-clad fighters. Gohan powered up, ready to take flight, but then Piccolo stretched the length of his arm to cover the entire distance and wrapped his hand around his throat.

Gohan cursed as he gasped for air and grasped Piccolo's green hand with his two white-gloved hands. Was this bastard a slug or a lizard? Before he could figure it out, Piccolo speedily retracted his arm to reel him in and punched the fresh bruise on his forehead. With the extra velocity, that hit smarted every bit as much as it would have if delivered from a more capable fighter.

Piccolo didn’t relinquish his grip on Gohan’s neck, either. In fact, he squeezed even tighter and drove his knee into his stomach. Gohan’s anger flared more than the pain to his core could ever, though. Even through thinning breath, Gohan squeezed Piccolo’s wrist hard enough to crush bones and slammed his free forearm into his. Piccolo immediately relinquished his grip as he let out a piercing scream and clutched his gruesomely-bent limb. Giving him no chance to recover, Gohan bombarded him with a flurry of blasts.

Amazingly, Piccolo still batted some away with only one arm, but eventually fell victim to a few. Only after firing a blast of his own was he able to retreat. Not that it did much to hurt Gohan, though.

“That arm‘s worthless,” Gohan said as Piccolo slumped heavily in favor of that spasming arm. “You might as well call it quits.”

For some reason, Piccolo smiled.

“Is that so?”

In a move more bizarre than anything Gohan had seen even on Frieza’s base, Piccolo tore his own arm off. Even as desensitized as he was to violence, he flinched on instinct at seeing a man inflict such an atrocity on himself . Purple blood erupted from the stub where his arm used to be; and then he chucked that arm away like a defective tool and not the crucial limb he was born with! Gohan’s eyes turned into a pair of goose eggs.

“What the fuck?! ”

Quite amused by Gohan’s bemusement, Piccolo cackled before letting out another sharp scream. And then, it happened: another arm ruptured through the stub of his shoulder with a shower of bilious, yellow fluids

Gohan clenched his teeth while the acids of vomit stung his throat. Again, he asked: was Piccolo a slug or a lizard?! His new arm had been a perfect replica of the injured one he’d discarded, and it curled and uncurled smoothly.

“Now watch closely,” Piccolo said with a ghoulish grin while he shook the bodily fluids off of his new arm. “I’m about to make your face even paler .”

Squaring his shoulders and clenching his fists, Piccolo screamed while an electric, violet-shaded aura jolted around his body. His Ki underwent the same metamorphosis as Goku’s when he used the Kaioken, densifying within his scaly, green body. Even the two full-blooded Saiyans stopped their battle when they felt Piccolo’s Ki change.

“MAO-KEN!”

And just like Goku, Piccolo’s Ki doubled. With an extra boost, the Namekian Demon whirred in front of Gohan and leveled him with a flurry of punches. To finish it off, he put both fists together and brought them down on Gohan’s skull like a hammer. He blasted off and tried to kick his head off, but the formidable child blocked his leg. Not that it could stop, Piccolo though - he just phased out of sight, popped out on the opposite side, and knocked him down again.

Vegeta and Goku stood frozen in awe as Piccolo gathered his pulsating energy into bright, sparking orbs around his hands. Even with Piccolo in the air, the ground vibrated against the force of his new power. When Gohan stumbled back up, Piccolo unleashed a massive, spiraling cannon of a blast from his hands. 

Fed up with being bested by the Earth warriors’ Ki wizardry, Gohan dared to challenge it head-on. He caught the blast with his hands and immediately buckled into the ground. It felt like a blade made of lightning had been stabbing his hands, burning away the fabric of his gloves and forcing his palms to bear the sheering brunt of the attack.

After an extra push, the blast exploded, forcing Piccolo and the two Saiyans to shield their eyes from the ensuing rush of smoke and light.

When everything cleared away, Piccolo stood on the ground with his limbs spasming far more violently than Goku’s had in the aftermath of even his quadruple Kaio-Ken. Eventually, he had to bend down to one knee and rest one of his hands against the surface to steady himself.

“Stealin’ my moves now, are we?” Goku called while Vegeta stood flabbergasted. “So that’s what you’ve been workin’ on in whatever hole you live in!”

“Pipe down, Son!” Piccolo hoarsely yelled. “Your demon seed’s far from beaten.”

Indeed, behind the dispersing smoke was one disheveled, angry half-Saiyan, snarling manically while his charring hands remained extended. Hell fire blazed in his eyes while his Ki jolted. Aside from the cracks to his armor and tears in his purple bodysuit, he’d been hardly damaged.

“That’s IT! I’m sick of this bullshit!”

Though he was on the same side, Vegeta trembled anxiously while the true depths of Gohan’s mutated, hybrid Ki boiled to the surface. With the energy he felt, he wondered if Gohan actually could have at least taken Recoome back on Frieza’s base.

"You might wanna hold off on that!" Goku yelled, catching the attention of the other three.

“Oh, really?” Vegeta asked, brow raised.

"If Piccolo dies, then good luck ever findin' the Dragon Balls!"

While Gohan and Vegeta gasped, Piccolo growled at his rival-turned-ally. "The last thing I need is you bargaining for my life, fool!"

However, he turned towards Gohan with a smirk. “That being said, your father's not blowing smoke. The marmoset was right about one thing -" Vegeta growled from the deepest tissues of his calloused vocal chords. He recalled Frieza using that insult towards him once during his childhood and he was going to figure out what the hell it meant. “I did create the Dragon Balls - or rather, my other half did. You kill me, and that old bastard dies. And if that happens, the Dragon Balls disappear.”

“What?!” Gohan and Vegeta screamed simultaneously.

“You lie!” Gohan said after a few moments.

“People say the damndest things when they see their life flashing before their eyes,” Vegeta growled. He cocked his head towards the teen. “End this bastard, Gohan.”

Goku shrugged. “I'm tellin' the truth. Piccolo and I ain’t exactly best buddies. I mean, he literally killed me two years ago. Had more to do with my heart shortin’ on me, but still.”

“Get to the goddamned point!” Piccolo snapped.

After a mischievous chuckle, Goku continued. “But that’s to say, he’s really pushed me and this entire planet a few times over the years. But I know if I finish him off, then God dies and the Dragon Balls go away. So I gotta let him off the hook.”

Vegeta folded his arms, scrutinizing Goku’s black eyes for any sign of dishonesty. The Saiyan formerly known as Kakarot possessed a sickeningly high moral character; Piccolo’s Ki on the other hand, felt exactly like his own. Not pure evil like Frieza and most of the filth in his army, but mostly rotten. It seemed unlikely that Goku would take up for a guy like him.

“Fine. The Namekian stays. But as for you, Kakarot - you had better start talking.” Vegeta looked at Gohan out of the corner of his eye. Not for the first time, he bristled apprehensively at the prospect of his father’s death; only in those brief lapses of mania did he seem willing to finish him. The brutal, full-blooded Saiyan prince struggled to wrap his head around the attachment.

With an indignant growl, Goku’s arms flexed. “Sure, I’ll talk: No Dragon Balls! That good for ya?!”

Vegeta’s face flared as red as Goku’s Kaio-Ken aura. He marched over and grabbed him by the collar of his blue shirt, leaning his head in so close the younger Saiyan grimaced at the heat of his breath.

“I have tolerated the sass from your traitorous, peasant mouth for charitably long.” Vegeta’s clenched teeth hadn’t moved a centimeter from each other as he spoke. He took the same approach towards Goku as he often did towards his brother for even looking at him wrong. But if not for the spit flinging into face and eyes, Goku wouldn’t have shown even a shred of discomfort. 

“If you don’t cooperate with me, I will knock every last tooth from your mouth and force them down your throat.”

Goku’s lips spread into the smile Vegeta would see from Raditz in his rare moments of superiority over an opponent. 

“Hope they taste better than your spit.”

Vegeta jerked Goku’s collar and split his head open with his skull. After Goku fell on his backside but nonetheless maintained his firm countenance, Vegeta’s temper reached nuclear levels.

“Your moronic fucking insolence is going to get me, you, your son, and your entire worthless mudball annhiliated!” He raised his palm and hastily radiated his unstable Ki around it. “Lead us to the fucking Dragon Balls, or-”

A Ki rang inside Vegeta’s head like the universe’s loudest siren being blasted directly into his ears. The energy sparking his hand died as he lowered his arm and lifted his head to the clouds. He tried to speak, but all that came from his mouth were incoherent stutters.

Frieza sent them after us?!

Goku, Piccolo, and Gohan felt it too. All four powerful, valiant warriors looked up into the sky with the faces of toddlers experiencing their first thunderstorm.

“What the hell is that?!” Goku asked Vegeta, their quarrel from only seconds ago a distant memory.

“It’s...Avo and Cado.”

Chapter Text

Bulma, Blonde Launch, and the disappointed bride that was Lazuli leaned against the catering table, a cigarette in each of their hands. Lazuli even wielded a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Yamcha had once nicknamed the trio the Smoking Section, and they were certainly living up to the title so they could ease a whirlwind of a day. Most of the guests had left following a host of apologies from Bulma and her parents.

"Some wedding, huh Laz?" Bulma asked, envious of Lazuli's drinking ability.

Lazuli slammed the bottle down on the table behind her and huffed her cigarette with extra bluster. "I knew we should've just gotten a goddamn certificate and called it a day."

With a shrug, Bulma chuckled. As the heiress to the world's wealthiest corporation, she just wouldn't allow two of her friends to not have an extravagant wedding.

"Who even was that creep, anyway?" Launch asked. "Looked like a samurai troll doll."

Bulma snorted a laugh, but frowned pensively. "You remember what I told you about Goku's first son, right? Well I think this guy is in league with his scumbag brother that took the kid into space."

Launch scowled, grinding her teeth against the end of her cigarette and stomping against the grass. "Holdin' a kid for ransom is the one line I won't cross." She let her fury out with a punch to the breeze. "Goku better knock that sumbitch flat!"

"Let's hope so," Bulma said. She let a nicotine-laced haze of smoke escape her mouth as she sorrowfully sighed. Not for the rest of her life would she forget the pain wrenching Goku's face when she arrived with Krillin and Roshi at those grasslands. Even when she first encountered Goku in the woods all those years back, she had never seen him as alone.

Krillin sullenly joined the "Smoking Section," stopping short of his would-be wife with a sad smile. "I can't help but feel like this is my fault. With all of the craziness in our lives, I should've counted on something like this."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lazuli said with a warm smile atypical of her. "I mean, yeah, we shouldn't have done all this, but you did it for me."

While Krillin modestly rubbed his bald head, Lazuli shrugged with a chuckle and directed her coy eyes to the lady with blue hair. "And it ain't like we're paying for it, anyway."

"Must be nice," Bulma said through clenched teeth, though she still smiled.

Fired up, Krillin whipped his fists down. "Man, I'm just more upset that one of those Saiyan creeps showed up and we can only stand around!"

"I hear ya," Yamcha said, joining Krillin along with Roshi. Bulma instinctively, bitingly, winced in the presence of the scarfaced ex-bandit. "But man, did you feel that guy's Ki? I thought my head was about to explode."

"Focus on it harder and do us all a favor then," Bulma seethed with a drag of her cigarette to the annoyance of Krillin and Lazuli. The long-haired object of her scorn, on the other hand, took the least exception and sheepishly laughed.

"Piccolo's there, too," Roshi observed.

"You don't think they're both ganging up on Goku, do you?!" Yamcha said. "We should hurry and get there too, then!"

"Nahh, Piccolo wasn't too fond of Goku's brother back then. He's probably on our side for now," Krillin replied. "What I'm really worried about is the other new guy there. Whoever he is, he makes everyone else look like wimps!"

"Another Saiyan? Could he be Goku's brother?" Yamcha asked.

Bulma's face twisted into an ugly scowl. If that were the case, she wanted to head over there and watch him get torn apart.

"I don't think so," Krillin said, tilting his head to the clouds. "It's funny. This guy's Ki doesn't feel all the way like the other one. Hell, I might be crazy...but he actually feels similar to Goten!"

Bulma's head whipped up, as did Roshi's. Her cigarette even fell from her mouth.

A Ki that feels similar to Goku's infant son?

"You don't think…" Roshi stammered.

Krillin and Yamcha's eyes both sputtered when they realized it, too.

"No…" Krillin muttered, incredulous.

"Well damn, now we definitely oughta go," Yamcha said, stretching his arms out. "I want to get a look at this myself."

"I'm with you," Krillin said with a firm nod. And if Krillin was going, so was Lazuli. She leaped away from the table, ripped her expensive wedding dress off and tossed it to the grass like common trash, revealing a denim vest, skirt, and black leggings.

Bulma rolled her eyes. Was everyone wearing their casual clothes under their formal attire? Nevertheless, she pulled a capsule out from under her dress. Just as she was about to toss it to the ground, Krillin, Yamcha and Roshi all yelped in horror.

"What the hell is that?!" Yamcha shrieked.

"What now?" Bulma asked, gripping her capsule tightly.

"The two hugest Ki's I've ever felt just showed up out of nowhere!" Krillin said, sweat glistening his shiny head. "They're way worse than even the um, other Saiyan."

"It's like we're getting a full-scale invasion here!" Yamcha said.

"So we better hurry up and get the hell over there."

Everyone turned to Lazuli's twin brother, Lapis, who rolled up his sleeves and tightened his ranger's gloves with a confident, unfazed smile. With a nod, Bulma tossed her capsule to the ground, triggering its small explosion into a large, yellow, box-shaped aircraft. The fighters of the group all rushed inside while Launch strapped her largest guns to her shoulders. Hell, she even grabbed Oolong.

"Get your fat ass in there, piggy!" Launch yelled, marching inside while Oolong squealed and wrestled from her grip.

"What could I possibly contribute to this?!"

"Emergency food!"

While the shape-shifting pig protested, Bulma laughed while following them inside. It was a much needed moment of humor, she figured, as she assumed the pilot's seat in the cockpit. She had a strong feeling everything was about to get ugly.

Gohan's eyes stayed fixated on the clouds, sweat dripping down his pallid face. He had only seen Avo and Cado once, during the video conference following the destruction of Kabnet and his army. Though Vegeta had spoken of them a few times, he had no idea they were this strong.

"Avo and Cado?" Goku asked. "Do they work for Frieza?"

"Yeah," Vegeta replied, short of breath. "Two of his top ranking men. Even stronger than Captain Ginyu!"

"What?!" Gohan shouted as his heart stuttered. He could never fully grasp Ginyu's power - he had suspected the veiny, purple elite could also control his Ki, because he occasionally felt even weaker than his subordinates. But he had heard his power level was in the low six figures - a nigh unreachable standard.

"I dunno who Captain Ginyu is, but if he's got you two sweatin'..." Goku remarked. In what little Gohan remembered of his father, nothing could really shake his confidence - but even he shuddered nervously. "And there's two of 'em? Talk about overkill!"

Vegeta marched towards the other full-blood. "Now do you see?! This is why we need the Dragon Balls!"

"Well we can save that for if we make it out of this alive," Goku said with a snide glare. "You feel how fast they're getting here? Even if I wanted to give you the Dragon Balls, we wouldn't find them in time."

Though he growled, Vegeta looked away from Goku and back at the sky, his hands running through his hair. Piccolo and Goku glanced at the Saiyan prince uncomfortably, as did Gohan. Only in rare moments did he see Vegeta so rattled.

Vegeta turned back around to Goku. "Kakarot! How far can you push that power-up of yours?"

"I can do a fiver without jackin' myself up too bad,'' Goku replied. "But it'll have to be fast."

"What about you?" Vegeta asked, motioning his head to Piccolo.

The Namekian hadn't stopped panting and occasionally experiencing spasms from his limbs. "It's still a work in progress. That pathetic excuse for a double is the best I can do. Can't do it again for another few hours unless I have a death wish."

"Tch. You'll just have to do for now," Vegeta resolved. "If we all hit them with our best attacks at once, we should be able to defeat them easily. But we have to be precise. We'll probably only get one shot at this."

Two trails of smoke ripped through the skies. With his sharp eyesight, Gohan could see two orbs blazing down like extinction-level asteroids.

"They're here!" he shouted.

"Then let's go!" Vegeta screamed before blasting off into the sky.

The other three warriors sped after him, flying as quickly as their Ki allowed in order to get the drop on the duo. Gohan flexed his Ki, trying to tap into the force that allowed him to go toe-to-toe with even his father's triple Kaio-Ken fueled power.

"I have an attack I've been working on that can trap them!" Piccolo shouted. "Just give me the word and I'll use it!"

"Got it!" Vegeta replied.

The closer they flew, the worse Avo and Cado's Ki assaulted Gohan's senses. How the hell was he supposed to contend with a pair of Frieza's elites? The tyrant had clearly spared no expense in exterminating the Saiyans. Not for the first time, he agonized over Arepa's status.

"Ah, no!" Goku yelled, catching everyone's attention.

"What is it?!" Piccolo asked.

"They landed in the city!"

Gohan squinted his eyes, and indeed, found an immense cluster of buildings miles away. He could already see smoke rising from the metropolis, either from their landing, or worse.

The first city that Gohan ever destroyed on his own volition flashed in his mind. When he tried shaking his head to wrestle it away, thousands of other cities that met the grisly hand of his power stabbed his brain at once, finally settling on the two cities from Planet Mamba.

"What the hell are you doing, Gohan?!"

Gohan's eyes fluttered in response to Vegeta's gruff voice, unsteadily escaping his mental collage. Vegeta, Piccolo, and Goku had already been miles ahead of him waging their aerial assault on two rotund aliens with circular, horned heads dressed in typical Frieza Force uniforms. Goku kicked the red one into the sky away from all of the buildings below, and Vegeta did the same to the blue-but-otherwise identical alien. Loathe to lag behind, Gohan propelled his Ki to meet them in a matter of seconds.

Gohan blasted the red warrior even higher into the air while Goku and Vegeta pounced on the blue one. With a Kaio-Ken powered punch, Goku knocked him up high while Vegeta frantically spun around.

"NOW, NAMEKIAN!"

After flying ahead of Gohan and the two full-blooded Saiyans, Piccolo curled both of his arms back with considerable Ki charging to his hands. Though he fired a rapid volley of blasts, the left the trio perplexed. The Namekian warrior was seemingly aiming at everyone but the red & blue targets.

"Are you trying to miss?!" Vegeta shouted.

"Just shut the hell up and start charging your attacks!" Piccolo snapped, continuing his imprecise attack like a machine gun.

Vegeta petulantly growled but listened to Piccolo's demand and curled his hands back, charging electric pink energy to his palms.

"Kaio-Ken, times five!"

A sweltering crimson aura surrounded Goku's engorging body, bringing his Ki to a level comparable to the powerful pair. Moving like his body was machine-operated, he assumed the same pose as Vegeta.

Only Gohan eventually noticed what was really going on. As he summoned all of the Ki in his body to his hands, he realized the blasts flinging towards Avo and Cado would stop mid-flight. They formed a colony of bright, yellow orbs surrounding the confused duo-chromatic twins.

Piccolo finally ceased his onslaught and raised his arms. He turned his head towards the Saiyan trio and gave a nod. They responded in kind.

"KA...ME...HA...ME…" shouted the father and son.

"GALLICK…!"

Piccolo folded his arms above his head.

"GUN!"

"HAAAA!"

As the three Saiyan's energy waves exploded from their palms, Piccolo's infantry of blasts sped at Avo & Cado like little Ki-powered Kamikaze pilots. The triple monsoon of waves and storm of blasts collided at the same time, producing an atomic detonation of energy that propelled the four warriors into the city streets.

As the light above faded, Gohan found himself trying to make out his surroundings among a seemingly endless stampede of fleeing humans and speeding hover-vehicles. It was a scene his presence had produced countless times, now occurring on his home planet. Shoving as many out of the way as he could, he tried to find Vegeta and his other temporary allies.

Eventually, he looked up and found them all floating a couple of feet above ground, gawking with terror at what floated up above. When Gohan joined them and looked, he took on the same horrified expression.

Up in the sky, a massive force field of purple energy illuminated the city. In the center, Avo and Cado floated without a scratch to be found on either their red & blue skin or their armor.

"But how?!" Gohan shouted.

Goku clutched his aching arms with a delirious smile. "You've gotta be friggin' kiddin' me!"

The twins cackled at the dumbstruck fighters. "That's what we call twin magic!" the blue one with one horn on his head, Avo, said.

"Yup! Good ol' forcefield with our combined, synchronized energy!" Cado, the red one with two horns, added. "So you guys never really had a chance, anyway!"

The seething Saiyan prince turned towards the exhausted Namekian demon prince. "Any more ideas?"

Piccolo only answered with a ragged, sardonic snicker. "Ya got me, Saiyan."

After the force field vanished, Avo & Cado flew down until they were level with the three Saiyans and Namekian.

"Now feast your eyes on some more twin magic!" Cado boasted, glancing at his brother. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"Oh, I think I'm thinkin' what you think I think you're thinkin'!"

"What the hell's going on?" Vegeta asked, already crouched defensively.

"Just sit back and watch, banana boys!" Avo snickered. "Y'see, four on two is a pretty unfair advantage against us."

"So we're about to tip the scales!" Cado added.

As Avo and Cado removed their scouters and gently dropped them onto the pavement, Gohan agonized over what they meant by tipping the scales. Was Frieza himself about to appear from thin air to destroy them all?

He could practically see every building surrounding him turning into ice sculptures.

The twins laughed and spun around each other in a synchronized rhythm, moving at a gradually quickening pace until they resembled a purple cyclone. A flash of violet light enshrouded the cyclone and forced the quartet to shield their eyes.

The sight ahead following the light's fading made all four of them wish they had just chanced it and gone blind instead.

Purple skin. A gigantic, portly, but musclebound frame seemingly carved from impervious stone. Spikes protruding everywhere from its arms to its bulbous jaw. And the type of smiling face even the mother would grimace at. He made Dodoria look like a teddy bear.

The blue Avo and the red Cado were nowhere to be found; this violet monstrosity stood in their place.

"Four on one...now it's fair."

Gohan couldn't comprehend what had just happened, and judging from the bugged-eyed, slack-jawed gazes of the grown warriors, neither could they. Not only had Avo and Cado somehow merged, but the purple powerhouse they produced possessed a Ki that exceeded even their combined strength.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Vegeta yelled.

The sound of the beast's laughter pummelled all four warriors' eardrums.

"I am neither Avo," he raised one fist, "Nor Cado!" He lifted the other and fastened himself.

"I am…"

He leaped into the air and flipped forward like a prickly cannonball, landing on the pavement with thunderous force. Like a proud showman, he squatted down and triumphantly flexed his brawny, up-curled arms.

"AVOCADO!"

Arching a puzzled brow, Goku scratched the top of his head as if he were deep in thought. "But all you did was combine their names."

Gohan could only incredulously stare at his father, unable to comprehend how the man could fixate on such silliness even in the face of hopelessness. Vegeta and Piccolo shared similar sentiments.

"Well you can call me Guacamole for all I care," Avocado snickered, bearing his sharp fangs. "You guys are still toast all the same! We came here for rice & veggies but I'll gladly overindulge!"

With a resigned breath, Goku cracked his neck. "Whelp, guess we just gotta fight this guy and see what happens."

Both Gohan and Vegeta blinked at the Saiyan formerly known as Kakarot. Even though Gohan had been raised to view his father as soft, he clearly possessed the fighting spirit worthy of a Saiyan.

"I got a special attack reserved for a situation like this, but who knows if he'll even give me a chance to use it," Goku said.

"Well, out with it!" Vegeta snapped. "What do we-"

Avocado slammed his immense bodyweight into all three fighters at once, rendering them dummies in a freight train's path. Vegeta flung into a light pole, snapping it clean in half. To make matters worse, he flew into one of the many speeding cars and totalled it in an instant. Shards of glass from the windshield drizzled onto his face and chest. When he sat back up, Avocado slammed his sizeable boot onto the entire span of his chest, pressing him into the vehicle's hood and crushing the sparking, leaking machinery underneath.

"Just call it a day from here, alright Veggie? Frieza wants me to bring you back to him personally. Wouldn't want to accidentally kill ya or nothing."

Instead of heeding the purple behemoth's warning, Vegeta popped up and dug two fingers into his eye, allowing Gohan, Goku, and Piccolo to blast him from behind. They might as well have fired them from water guns, however, because they simply bounced off of Avocado's back.

Avocado turned around with a wide, unsightly smile on his face. "I'm terribly sorry. Were you guys trying to say something to me?"

"Crap," Goku muttered. "Well, if we can do anything, let's get him outta the city."

"Are you kidding me?!" Piccolo yelled. "To hell with the city! We have to take this bastard down!"

Piccolo charged straight ahead, but rather than attack directly, blasted the ground in front of Avocado. With a cloud of smoke obscuring his vision, Piccolo phased behind him and tried hooking his arms. His shoulders far too broad, Piccolo could only get as far as his hands before being flung into an abandoned bus from a mere thrust.

"Hey, ugly fruit guy!" Goku yelled before flying backwards. That got Avocado's attention - and ire. The hulking merged soldier chased after him but met a trail of energy blasts as Goku flew away with red aura surrounding him.

With Avocado distracted, Gohan got into position for another Kamehameha.

"Wait, Gohan!" Goku yelled as he continued leading Avocado away.

Exasperated by his father's self-defeating virtue, Gohan growled but remained in place. Vegeta had no such conflict over Goku's plan - he just ignored it and made a mad dash for Avocado. He phased to his left and kicked him with all his might, launching him towards a building with nothing but the brute force Gohan had watched him fortify for years.

"Now!" Vegeta shouted at him.

As Gohan crouched down and gathered his Ki, he looked closely at the skyscraper Avocado rapidly approached. An overflow of people were still scurrying out from the front and rear entrances, some even jumping out of the windows…

...desperate to escape the wide-scale destruction the Saiyans had unleashed. Even though they ran into a city of burning buildings, car pileups, and piles upon piles of corpses, they still tried to escape. Gohan had wished he had gotten them all in one shot, but alas; his aim still needed work.

But Frieza's orders were to clear the planet of every single shred of life. And thus, Gohan had to be thorough. He had to look at the innocent people, some of them children just like him, and strike them down.

As he frequently did in tough situations, Gohan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened, he fired an enormous blast that consumed all in its path.

When he saw the people trying to escape the building Avocado was about to topple, Gohan relinquished his Ki and phased in front of it in a split second. That split-second was one passage of time too many, because when Gohan lifted his hand to try punching Avocado away from the danger zone, the beast had recovered and effortlessly kicked him in the face with a force that Gohan figured to rival the universe's hardest steel.

He flew into the very same building he had sabotaged his attack to protect. A brief lapse of guilt accomplished all of nothing. As the incalculable tons of metal, concrete and glass crumbled onto him, Gohan could hear hundreds of dying screams - people of his planet being punished for not being strong enough to withstand a building falling onto them.

"Stupid boy!" Vegeta yelled before launching a blast that Avocado swatted like any ordinary dodge ball.

Goku tried to do his part with another flurry of Ki blasts, but the abuse of Kaio-Ken had hampered him. His blasts weren't as sharply aimed, nor were they as strong as they should have been. All they accomplished were delaying their deaths for a few moments.

With both Goku and Vegeta's attacks coming at him, Avocado couldn't avoid the punch from Piccolo's outstretched arm that sent him into a car.

But rather than capitalise, Vegeta turned around to chastise Goku.

"Why the hell are you wasting your effort protecting all these weaklings?!" Vegeta shouted. "They'll either live, or they'll die!"

"If I can help keepin' 'em out of it, I'll do it!" Goku fiercely contested.

The Saiyan prince clicked his teeth and shook his head. "Unbelievable! And even after everything I've taught your son, he still hasn't overcome your soft, bullshit mentality!"

Everything he taught him. Just thinking about that Saiyan corrupting Gohan and twisting him into that ticking time bomb filled every fiber of Goku's being with disgust.

"That's my son that you 'taught' and you're not even ashamed of the mess you piled up on him!" Goku's Ki spiked with a reserve of power he didn't even realize he had, making his hair rise on end.

It was only the brief but somber look on Vegeta's face that prevented a full-blown confrontation.

Well, that and the blast the size of a Capsule Corp. spaceship flying at them.

The two bickering Saiyans only barely managed to escape its radius, but the ensuing explosion slammed them both into the ground all the same. As they lay on their stomachs coughing up dust and smoke, they surveyed the damage.

"Y-You see that, Kakarot?" Vegeta wheezed. "If this son of a bitch wins, all of these people and the entire damn population will die anyway."

As Goku stumbled to his feet, he could see Piccolo getting knocked around like a toy for the big, purple, child. At one point, Avocado grabbed him and casually tore his arm off.

"And Frieza is even stronger than that. This is what we're up against, Kakarot."

Vegeta's voice lacked the arrogance Goku had already grown to despise.

"I'm not saying you have to be a rotten scumbag like me." The blunt self-awareness made Goku pause. "But you have to go all out. To beat these guys you have to be willing to sacrifice everything."

Vegeta lifted his fist and raised it towards his face. It shook with fury.

"Everything."

Recognizing the pain that raptured Vegeta's voice, Goku stared a thousand yards ahead. If there was anything he had in common with the other Saiyan, it was that feeling of inadequacy. He watched the remains of the building that his son was somewhere lying beneath. Regardless of what the Saiyans had twisted him into, that bright was still in there.

And he wouldn't fail him again.

As Goku focused his Ki, he calculated just what level he'd need to reach just to even put a dent in Avocado and create enough separation. While he was the absolute furthest thing from a mathematician, he had a PhD in fighting.

The power would shred his body up - but if Avocado killed him, he would have to die knowing he didn't pull out every stop.

"Kaio-Ken...TIMES TEN!"

The threshold of power Goku unleashed literally blew Vegeta away, uprooting even the most fortified structures. Goku's muscles ballooned so dramatically, a few holes tore in his already tattered clothes. His erratic Ki boiled inside his veins, his body turning into the universe's most potent pressure cooker to push him even further past his own limits. Every nerve in his brain electrified while his muscles twisted in and out until his power reached the painfully necessary threshold.

The red rocket of power struck in the knick of time. Avocado had his foot raised above Piccolo's head, seconds from squashing it like a literal slug. Goku kicked Avocado directly in his face and sent him into a building thousands of feet away. Half-a-second later, he collapsed while his heart beat at the rhythm of a busted motor. If he had been hoping to buy time for his trump card, he had been sorely mistaken - but at least he got a clean shot in.

Vegeta joined them soon after while Piccolo stood up on one knee. Just like earlier, he grotesquely sprouted another arm where his other one used to be, but his Ki plummeted this time.

Their break was brief, because Avocado emerged from the building with a bloodthirsty glare. The three adult warriors readied themselves as best as they could to withstand whatever potential fatal attack was coming for them - but it was the child who saved them with a Ki wave that sent Avocado into another abandoned building. Gohan joined battered warriors and bent down with his hands on his knees.

"That attack of yours...father," Gohan wheezed, "What do we need to do?"

Still bent down on the ground, Goku feebly laughed. "Let's talk about that when I can actually feel my legs."

"Well start feeling them fast so I can break them once we've killed this guy," Piccolo said with a smirk. "I'm gonna destroy every last one of you Saiyans for leading him to this planet before I can take it over."

"And I'll destroy Namek while I'm at it," Vegeta threatened, though he too had an atypically casual grin for his unfriendly features.

Goku tried standing back up but immediately crumbled. The building in the distance exploded into thousands of pieces and Avocado emerged with some bruises. His unsightly face twisted with rage while he ignited his bone-chilling energy.

"That's it! I'm done playing around!"

Earth didn't get the memo.

A swarm of green planes ripped through the clouds raining bullets and missiles. With a painful groan, Goku tried to stand back up.

"Ah, shit!'" he yelled as the jets closed in. "You'd think these guys would learn from dealing with you by now, Piccolo!"

"Idiots!" Piccolo sneered.

One of the large rockets landed firmly in Avocado's hands and promptly turned to dust - and then another hit him in the face and exploded. While it dealt absolutely no physical damage, it certainly pissed him off, because he flung an energy blast wide enough to take out most of the approaching jets in one shot.

"Dammit!" Goku yelled as he watched the men waste away in explosions.

"Pathetic excuse for military," Vegeta grumbled before shooting his fiery eyes at Goku. "Hey! Forget those suicide victims and start working on that damn attack!"

"Right…!" Goku replied, pushing his hand onto his knee as he made yet another attempt to stand up. And yet again, he fell - but a gloved hand steadied him before he could hit the pavement. When he looked to his right, he couldn't contain his surprise.

"Gohan?"

His son looked at him firmly and nodded, then lifted his arm over his shoulder and floated away until they reached the back of a plaza where they were hidden from view. Gohan let Goku go, but kept a hand to his shoulder to hold him steady while he regained his balance.

"If he's like any of Frieza's other goons, he can't sense us," Gohan said while Avocado blew away another few planes while tanking blasts from Vegeta and Piccolo, too. "Unless he decides to just blow the entire place away."

"Hope is all we got for now," Goku said as he took a relaxing breath. While he wanted to clear his head for the attack, he also sought to savor a small moment of peace with his first son.

"What's this attack?"

Goku didn't immediately answer, instead shutting his eyes and lifting his hands into the sky. He flexed his Ki, channeling it almost like a signal to all of the beings in the Earth's environment that carried life.

"The Spirit Bomb."

Gohan stood mystified as a white glow overtook his father's body.

"The Earth...the trees...the animals...even the oceans...I'm asking a lot of ya, but I'mma need about as much energy as you can spare!"

"Huh?" Gohan whispered.

With a weak, but confident smile, Goku turned towards his son. "I'm gonna need a few minutes. Think y'all can last?"

Gohan peered his head behind the plaza in just enough time to witness a jet crash into the parking lot. With the military reinforcements just about decimated, Avocado closed in on Piccolo and Vegeta.

"That bastard could kill us all in one hit if he felt like it," Gohan said, his fingers trembling. "I don't…"

"C'mon, son," Goku said, as the calming stream of spirit energy flowed inside of him. "I can't even begin to understand what you've been through, but it had to have been a nightmare. But you're still standing, stronger than anyone I've ever met before this guy came along. You can do this."

Gohan turned around, probing his father with his heavy gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but then an energy blast sounded off behind them. Gohan turned around and gasped in surprise. Without moving his body, Goku spun his head around and found two similar-bodied fighters storming into the makeshift battlefield.

"The twins!"

"Twins?" Gohan asked. "That thing didn't split back up."

"Not them!" Goku yelled. "Lapis and Lazuli!"

"Who?"

"They're sorta...cyborgs, I guess?" Goku said, multitasking between the spirit energy and the conversation. "It's all secondhand but apparently some mad scientist from an army I took down back in the day kidnapped 'em and did some experiments on their bodies so he could turn 'em into super-powered cyborgs that could kill me. He offered to turn Piccolo into one too but he said 'eff that,' and killed him. The doc wasn't even close to finished with his experiments but he enhanced 'em pretty good by the time Piccolo busted 'em out. And then he thought he had a couple loyal robo-minions to sic on me, but they had other plans."

While Goku expected a response, Gohan looked down at the ground with a contemplative stare instead. Goku wished he could read his son's mind, though he figured that probably would leave him with even more questions.

After a few moments, Gohan finally spoke up. "How strong are they?" he asked as he watched them battle from behind the building.

"Not quite my and Piccolo's level, but their bodies are basically tanks," Goku explained. "And they've got unlimited energy. I bet they can wear that guy out."

"Well one of 'em wears Krillin out plenty, am I right?"

Goku turned his head back around and smiled when he found his old buddies, Yamcha and Krillin stepping up by his side. Though Gohan intensely stared at Krillin for a few moments, he quickly looked away.

"Uh...hey," Krillin anxiously began, clearing his throat. "Long time, no-"

Gohan flew away and into the battlefield.

"Nice work, Krillin," the perpetually meek monk said to himself.

"Oh trust me, compared to me, that was friendly," Goku snickered. "But we've got bigger fish to fry."

"You're telling me," Krillin replied. "What the hell is that monster?"

"Some guy from Gohan and that Saiyan's army," Goku explained. "It's a loooong story."

"So that kid is your son, then," Yamcha said, with a hint of sympathy.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna need some help if we wanna beat this monster. Can you guys help clear any pedestrians out if they ain't escaped yet?"

"Yup, we're on it!" Yamcha said as he jumped away.

Krillin ducked down to follow, but not before turning towards his oldest friend. "Some way to reunite with your son, huh? Still looks the same but he's dressed like those creeps, now."

"Yuuuuup," Goku winced. "But he's back, and that's all that matters."

"I guess so."

As Gohan jumped into the city, he saw two tall, lanky fighters leading Avocado on a wild goose chase. Much like the two soldiers who merged into the purple beast, they were all but identical but contained some differences in color. One, a guy with tan skin and black hair, the other a girl with pale skin and blonde hair. But their eyes shared that same shade of blue as Arepa, like two chips of ice. They kept firing blasts at him while spinning in synchronized circles, easily evading his attacks.

With Avocado distracted, Gohan raised his power as high as he could presently go. Vegeta jumped to his side, raising his power as well.

"Where the hell did these two come from and how are they fighting this bastard so effectively?" Vegeta asked. "I can hardly sense any power from them."

"They're cybernetically enhanced humans, apparently," Gohan answered. "Their energy's unlimited."

"Seriously?!" Vegeta clicked his teeth with both disbelief and disgust. "What the hell is going on with this planet? Godly techniques, Dragon Balls, now super-powered machines? How foolish were we to do things Frieza's way?"

Gohan laughed as he charged his energy. What the hell was with this planet indeed. His planet.

Both he and Vegeta fired blasts that hit Avocado dead-on, successfully knocking him down. Chasing those twins around had worn him down just a little bit. Though he popped back up, Piccolo phased to his right and kicked him back down. The twins jumped back into the fray.

"Just like old times, huh Piccolo?" Lapis yelled with a mischievous smile.

"Just shut the hell up and keep fighting this thing," Piccolo scoffed. He spun around and launched another Ki blast that was merely swatted right back at him. Moving too fast for him to keep up with, Piccolo's very own attack detonated into him and launched him away.

Avocado jumped into the sky and created a ball of green energy in his palms. Gohan braced himself for perhaps the fatal blow, but rather than fire the blasts, Avocado suspended it a few inches away from his face, hovering his mouth over it like it was a, well, avocado.

"WAHAHA-HA!"

Was that a maniacal laugh, or an attack name? Both? Whatever the case, Avocado released an orange stream of magma-like energy from his mouth. When it collided with the green energy, a shower of orange blasts streamed from it like a murderous sprinkler. Buildings, humans, the fighters - all fell victim to the attack. Gohan and Vegeta did their best to duck the blasts, but even they were struck down and collided with debris.

"Dammit!" Gohan spat as he shoved a row of bricks off his body. Every inch of skin felt like it had been smacked with fire. But he could only think of his father and his attack, wondering if he had been hit in the crossfire, too.

"Gohan! I'm speakin' directly into your mind!"

His father's voice. Guess that answered that question.

"I hear you," Gohan mentally responded, reminded of when Shenron probed him to answer the wish of the very same man he was speaking to now.

"The Spirit Bomb's done. Well, the energy part, anyway. But I've gotta get him in place for a few seconds so he can take the hit. Think you and Vegeta can help?"

Gohan fiercely opened his eyes. "Yes!" He had to say it out loud just to convince himself.

"Good! I'm countin' on ya, son."

With a firm nod as if Goku were directly in front of him, Gohan stood up and found Vegeta staggering to his feet a few yards across.

"Yo, Vegeta!"

Faintly, the Saiyan prince moved in Gohan's direction.

"We gotta find a way to keep this guy down for a few seconds so my father can throw his attack at him!"

Vegeta didn't need to vocalize his answer; he just took off and sped right into the purple menace's line of fire.

Like his body didn't feel like it had been run through a meat grinder, Gohan blasted off into the sky right alongside Vegeta. Not only was his father counting on him - Vegeta was too. More than anybody, this was the Prince of all Saiyans' fight, too. A hasty Kamehameha escaped his hands and hit Avocado in the face.

Having a timely blast from Yamcha to thank for escaping Avocado's crossfire, Goku stood atop a building with his right arm raised and fist glowing with the Earth's fighting spirit. His eyes followed where Avocado was going instead of where he was at...but that was easier said than done.

Vegeta flew at Avocado with the type of kick that would have crippled a normal man, but Avocado just laughed it off and grappled Vegeta's leg. Treating the Saiyan warrior like a stuffed, plush monkey, Avocado slammed him into the pavement with a single arm. When Lapis, Lazuli, and Gohan flew at him to protect Vegeta, he blasted them away with the other hand.

Goku flinched. Gohan and the twins were out of range. Piccolo was recovering in the distance. Only Vegeta was in the monster's grip. If he fired the Spirit Bomb, both of them would be taken out. It was only Vegeta though, right? Nobody would miss that bastard.

Nobody except for Gohan, perhaps.

His jaw flexing, Goku stood in place. No. Even Gohan notwithstanding, it wouldn't have been right. Even if he was 99.9% certain Vegeta wouldn't have granted him the same courtesy if the shoe were on the other foot.

Turning Vegeta into a flame-haired lasso, Avocado spun his body back and forth and flung him into a bus shelter, cackling as glass and steel shattered onto him.

Right after Vegeta's crash, Gohan dove at Avocado in a hapless try at seizing his burly, lavender arms. Avocado merely shoved him and wrapped his arm around his tiny head, seizing him in a front face-lock.

Goku bit his lip hard enough to cut it open. Once again, Avocado was static, only now it was his son that would've been a casualty. Not only that, but he was tempted to just throw the spirit energy away and save Gohan from Avocado's clutches.

"One of my favorite pastimes when I'm split is watching pro wrestling!" Avocado snickered while Gohan screamed for air. "Lemme show you the suplex!"

With otherworldly strength, Avocado lifted Gohan up so he hung upside-down while remaining in his chokehold. Like a frog, he sprung dozens of feet into the air, but then flopped backwards at a whip's velocity, slamming Gohan onto his back into the street's pavement. The teenaged half-Saiyan shuddered while he lay helpless in the caved-in gravel; with a single hand, Avocado grabbed his hair and lifted him onto his knees.

"And this is the powerbomb!"

With both hands, Avocado folded Gohan's body and shoved his head between his bloated thighs. He flipped Gohan up into a seated position on his shoulders, but the boy slammed his fists into his skull to free himself. And then, in a move he clearly could have only picked up around a bunch of thugs, kicked Avocado below the belt - right in the plums.

With a high-pitched shriek, Avocado fell onto his knees while holding his crotch. Gohan whipped his head to his father and nodded; Goku nodded back with feebly-contained laughter. But then, as soon as Gohan sprung away, Avocado reached out and grabbed his foot with one hand while the other tended to his privates. What the hell was this bastard made of?

Before Avocado could fling him around like Vegeta, Gohan launched him away with a blast to his face. As the beast flew for a building, Gohan cupped his hands and gathered all of his Ki.

"Ka...Me...Ha...Me...HA!"

A blue wave of destruction erupted from Gohan's hands. Goku tensely shrugged; though he was sure Gohan had employed that move for gruesome purposes in that wretched army, the father in him still brimmed with pride that his son had picked up his move. He had always wanted to teach it to him.

The blast connected, exploding on collision and taking another building with it. Goku kept his feet steady, withstanding the shockwave so he wouldn't risk losing the spirit energy pulsing around his hand. Once all of the commotion died down, Goku tried honing in on Avocado's Ki; he preferred getting a clear look at the beast before firing. That way, he would hit him, and only him. No buildings or structures to dilute the impact.

The blast had done little to harm Avocado, however, because he emerged from the rubble like a purple rocket and leveled Gohan's entire body with his knee.

"Foolish chimp!" Avocado yelled as he dropped down and stalked towards Gohan like a bear. Without even turning around, he lifted his arms and punched Lapis and Lazuli away when they charged him from behind. "You are gonna take this powerbomb and like it!"

He picked Gohan up, folded his limp body, and hooked his arms around his waist before flipping him back onto his shoulders. There was no strike back that time; instead, Avocado turned himself to the right and viciously slammed Gohan's body onto a red van that snapped clean in half like a little plastic toy.

The incorrigible sound of his son's ear-splitting cries of pain forced Goku's eyes shut. It was just like the day eight years prior, Goku standing helplessly while Gohan suffered. With his resolve shaking, Goku felt his grip on the spirit energy loosen.

"HEY!"

The sound of a gravelly, familiar voice forced Goku to open his eyes back up. What he saw nearly shut his brain down for good - a second Avocado, standing a few yards across from the first.

No...it couldn't have been, right? This day was getting even worse?

"What the fuck?!" Avocado shouted, as dumbstruck as anybody else nearby. "Where did you come from?!"

"Oh, don't curse at me like that!" the second Avocado yelled, though his entire body quaked like he was stricken with fear. "That's no way to talk to ya long-lost twin brother!"

Goku blinked in surprise. That accent…

"What are you talking about?" Avocado #1 shouted. "I don't have a twin - I'm made of twins!"

The second Avocado subtly motioned his head towards Goku before addressing his apparent twin. Atypical of a murderous space monster, he giggled nonchalantly. "D-Didn't mom and dad ever tell ya? We were separated at birth, ya know!"

Avocado stomped his foot and incredulously swung his hands. "No! We weren't! And our race reproduces asexually, anyway!"

"Oh, damn, look at me bein' all silly!" Avocado #2 said with a nervous laugh...and a snort. "Ain't been on the planet in so long, I forgot!"

A light bulb flickered on in Goku's head. The accent, the fear, and more importantly, the lack of any noteworthy Ki from this second incarnation of the monster...That crazy ol' son of a bitch!

With Avocado standing frozen in complete befuddlement, Goku finally cocked his hand back and swung for the fences, releasing all of the Earth's spirit energy with as much strength as his body allowed. Avocado was so caught up trying to figure out this new "twin," he didn't see the Spirit Bomb coming until it was right in his face.

Direct hit.

When the blast struck, it overtook Avocado's entire body and captured it within a colossal, blindingly bright ball of concentrated energy. His gargantuan, fortuitous body gruesomely wrenched back and forth under the force of the Earth's spirit as it propelled into the sky.

And, living up to its title, the bomb exploded.

Luckily, the Spirit Bomb had lifted itself high enough that its eruption didn't bring anybody harm, but it still wreaked havoc on Goku's eyes. Once the light dissipated, Goku looked down at the city's ruins. Unless a few fruit spilled out of a deli, there wasn't an Avocado to be found. One had been blasted to God knows where while the other one was now a simple pig in a tuxedo wiping his forehead and chanting prayers.

Goku dropped down, stopping to catch his breath while he giggled.

"I sure picked the right time to grow some balls, eh Goku?" Oolong said with a relieved chuckle.

"Ya came through when it mattered, so that's all I need," Goku said. "Thanks, ol' buddy."

Willingly doing it for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Goku sat down. He looked at the broken van, where his son still lay in agony. Running solely on willpower, Gohan sat back up, though he kept one elbow to the ground and the other on a leather car seat.

"I-Is he dead?" Gohan faintly asked.

"Can't sense him," Goku replied. For a few moments, he stared at Gohan as he coughed and gasped for air. And then, he smiled. "Thank you, son."

Gohan stopped coughing and simply gazed at his father, either too weak or too rattled to answer him. Goku nodded, not interested in pressuring him for a proper reciprocation. With a smirk, Goku turned around.

"You too, Vegeta."

The dark Saiyan prince merely grunted, his already injured back forcing him to hunch over on one knee. Expecting Vegeta to go right back to pressing him about the Dragon Balls, Goku hummed with surprise when he languished with a contemplative expression instead.

"I'm gonna start charging you fees for helping you out, Goku" Lazuli said, joining the broken down warriors with her brother.

Goku laughed, but only briefly. Feeling a pressure ripping against the wind, he looked up. High up in the skies, a blip fell from the sky. As it fell further, he could make out the purple skin and spikes, and then the armor.

The shattered, pulverized body of Avocado splatted onto the ground.

Alerted and ignoring his injuries, Gohan leaped from the broken van and assumed a battle stance. Vegeta, Piccolo, and the twins stood on guard too, though Oolong squealed and fled in a matter of seconds. Goku, on the other hand, stayed right where he was.

"He ain't movin' is he?" Goku reasoned. The plates on Avocado's armor had been completely broken off, among the other abrasions to his outfit. Cuts, bruises, and gruesome burns coated his violet skin, leaving him a broken shadow of the horror that had stricken the planet. "It's fine."

"IS IT, THOUGH?"

All of the breath left Goku's body. Not even taking a spirit bomb could stop Avocado from standing back up. Oh, he moved with a lot more fatigue in his step, and when got back on both feet his previously robus posture had become hunched and withered, but he was still standing with that ugly smile on his face. Every warrior backed away in terror.

"I'm baaaaaaaaack," the purple abomination cackled.

With only a burst of his still nightmarish Ki, Avocado blew every warrior standing out of his vicinity and rushed into the sky. A molten, red aura enshrouded his massive frame, darkening the sky with the havoc it wreaked on Earth's atmosphere.

"I came here just to do a job and figured, why not have some fun? It wasn't personal," Avocado said as steam emanated from his mouth. Gohan, Vegeta, and Piccolo gathered their Ki, but were tapping diminished reservoirs.

"But I'll tell you now: what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet...I'm going to enjoy it. Very, very much."

Goku squared his shoulders, a fire brimming within him. Avocado was right about one thing - it was his planet. And he wasn't about to watch it burn down.

"Kaio-Ken, Times Ten!"

While red magma ignited around Goku's body, an orange supernova as potent as the sun itself flew from Avocado's mouth, painting the entire planet red. As it blazed towards Earth, Goku ignored the protests of his body and cuffed his hands together, focusing every last ounce of his dangerously amplified power.

"KA...ME…!"

Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, and the twins stood down, all realizing their power didn't hold a candle to Goku's at the present moment.

"HA...ME…!"

Goku's arms shook like they were seconds from self destruction. Still, he didn't care. With one last thrust of his arms, he let it all out.

"HAAAAAAAA!"

The two red calamities met in an explosion that forced the other fighters to retreat. Neither blast would give, even as Avocado kept pushing. The Spirit Bomb hadn't been for nothing - the beast's power had diminished significantly. Now, Goku's tenfold Kaio-Ken leveled the playing field.

"Leveled" wasn't enough.

With his body hanging by a thread, Goku couldn't afford to struggle any longer. He needed his power to reach a threshold that would not only topple Avocado, but wipe out every last trace of him. Better to put himself on the line to win than let everyone else fall with him.

Gohan hadn't fled those monsters in space just to die in his home.

Goku had to risk it. He wasn't going out like he did against one kick from Raditz.

"KAIO-KEN….!"

His heart rumbled like it had moments before Piccolo had finally killed him those couple of years prior.

"TIMES TWENTY!"

Like the volcanic flames of his Ki, Goku's signature attack doubled in size and swallowed up Avocado's supernova like a beach ball in the tides. The powerful, purple abomination's last gasp was a scream before the Saiyan energy slammed into him and shot out to space.

By the time the blast dissipated, "Avocado" was no different from any of the trillion stars.

Gohan wasn't sure if it was the heat, his anxiety, his exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but he found himself desperately heaving for air while the entire Earth rumbled. He couldn't sense Avocado's Ki anymore; he was gone. The worst was over. But that was burying the lede:

In that brief moment, maybe only a second, Goku's Ki was higher than Frieza's!

Why the fuck were he and Vegeta so pressed about immortality?!

But, an answer came when all of the rumbling and blinding lights finally ceased. Everything had settled but one. In the center of the metropolis battlefield, Goku lay flat on his back, his orange gi and blue undershirt reduced to a few tattered rags. His chest wasn't moving up or down, like a live body was supposed to.

Lapis was the first one to reach him, crouching down and placing a finger to his neck.

"He's not breathing and I'm only barely getting a pulse."

Even without the vital signs, Gohan could feel it from the way his Ki plummeted. He just stood there, watching his father wither away in the aftermath of doing what he had failed to eight year prior. Before that day, he could never imagine him in such a state…

The best part about living in the mountains? The family could take a camping trip on any whim.

While Chi-Chi - dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt for the first time in ages - laid out a hefty array of plates and utensils on a blanket, Gohan played amongst the bushes, greeting whatever wildlife came into his sight. He was only four, but possessed the curiosity of the world's greatest professors. When a rabbit hopped out of the bushes, he stumbled in surprise but quickly giggled.

"Don't go venturin' out too far now, sweetie!" Chi-Chi called from afar. "Some o' them critters ain't friendly!"

He turned and nodded, but spun back around and laughed. "Don't mind mommy, Mr. Rabbit. She's just worried, that's all."

While he watched the rabbit hop around, Gohan heard a few thuds and the sound of branches snapping in the distance. That only meant one thing - his daddy going to work! When he turned around, he saw a pile of severed branches behind Chi-Chi. One branch was stuck upright into the ground, and standing on top of it with inhumanly perfect balance? Goku.

"Check me out, Gohan!"

Goku expertly juggled pieces of pine in his hands. Giggling and clapping, Gohan marveled at the display of nigh-impossible precision that Goku made normal. Though Chi-Chi also smiled, she wasn't quite as enthused.

"Uhh, darlin'? You're fixin' to lose your balance!" Chi-Chi yelled. The branch Goku stood upon was just a few feet from the edge of the cliff they stood on.

"Aw stop worryin', Chi-Chi, this is easy!" Goku said as he tossed the pine cones back and forth. "Ain't that right, Gohan?"

"Yeah!" Gohan cheered with his fist raised.

"Oh, who am I kiddin'?" Chi-Chi said, waving him off and resuming the plate-setting.

Goku started mixing it up, juggling the pine cones in the opposite direction. But then, he lost track of his hands, causing one of the prickly cones to smack him in the face. Startled, Goku stumbled a little while Gohan held his breath. Goku steadied himself, bur the branch had other plans.

It tipped over. And Goku fell off and over the edge.

"DADDY!"

In a panic, Gohan rushed to the edge of the cliff, only being stopped by his mother's tight grip around his hand. While she reeled him into the blanket, Gohan cried hysterically.

"Daddy fell! He FELL, mommy!" he wailed while Chi-Chi held him tightly to her chest, running her hand through his hair to try calming him. "He...he's gone!"

"Whaddaya mean, gone?"

That voice!

Gohan looked up and sucked in the snot spilling from his nose. His father was back, laughing with not a scratch on him.

"D-Daddy?"

"Oh, c'mon, Gohan! I've fallen down from WAY worse than that!"

While Gohan dashed to his father's legs Chi-Chi rolled her eyes. "How many times have I toldja not to scare Gohan with your lil' stunts, Goku? You're gonna give the boy a heart attack before he's grown."

"You know I'm tougher than that, don't ya Gohan?" Goku asked. The child nodded. "I woulda been fine even if I fell all the way down. Ain't nothin' in the world not named Piccolo that can hurt me!"

Vigorously, Gohan nodded again. What was he thinking? Nothing could shake him!

Goku crouched down in front of him, tapping his jaw. "C'mon, see for yourself! Gimme your best shot!"

Even despite Goku's ever-present smile, Gohan felt his throat tighten. He still feared all things physical and even touching his dad made his heart quake. Behind him, Chi-Chi breathed the most exhausted sigh.

"There ya go again, Goku! Just give it a rest!"

"Nah, it's okay, hun!" Goku said with a wave. He locked his bright, black eyes into Gohan's, offering his reassurance with a big smile. "You won't get hurt; I won't get hurt!"

With that smile, Gohan knew he had no reason to fear anything. With a nod, he cocked his tiny little fist back, and swung. When his knuckles collided with Goku's face, the big guy stumbled. Whimpering, Gohan pulled back.

"Ah man, on second thought you pack a wallop, kiddo!" Goku said, rubbing his red cheek. "Nice shot! Keep at it and you'll be knockin' me flat in no time!"

Moving beyond Gohan's eyesight, Goku slid over to Chi-Chi with a sheepish grin. "Riiiiiiiight, Chi-Chi?"

"Nice try, Goku."

Gohan just shook his head. Like that would ever happen. Nothing could hurt that man - his daddy was invincible!

Before the memory even left his head, Gohan rushed to Goku's breathless body. He didn't even notice Lapis kneeling on the other side while he gave his father his full, mortified attention. Goku's face was nearly as blue as the fabric of Vegeta's bodysuit, oxygen fading fast. With his own breath hastening, Gohan did the only thing that made sense in the moment and slammed his fists into his father's chest to force his heart back online.

"WAKE UP!"

He kept pounding, to no response from his father but flops. A gold-tipped white boot slid beside him.

"Kid, what are you doing?!" Vegeta asked.

With a desperate, ferocious growl, Gohan looked up and snarled.

"Either help me or shut the fuck up!"

Seeing them as a nuisance, Gohan ripped both of his gloves from his hands and kept pounding away with the flesh of his knuckles. As his vision dampened, he had a harder time hitting his target.

"WAKE UP!"

Vegeta had to look away. Gohan kept at it.

"Please," Gohan whimpered. A tear fell from his eye and onto his father's face.

"Please...dad…"

Chapter Text

“Ow…”

Gohan lifted his head, his tear-soaked eyes blinking rapidly at the sound of that voice. When he looked down, he gasped in astonishment when his father’s eyes weakly opened. His face had regained some of its color while he coughed hoarsely.

“Heh...thought I was seein’ King Yama’s office for a second there,” Goku said, his voice hampered to a near whisper. Despite everything, he was smiling . “Then I wake up ‘n you’re tryin’ to send me back…”

“Da-” Gohan bit his tongue, rebuilding his mental shield. “Father…?”

A few scattered voices from behind called out Goku’s name as well, but Gohan noticed neither their voice nor their presence when they surrounded him. His dumbstruck eyes remained fixated on the man he once deemed a miserable failure, only to revert to the hero-worshipping clinging of his childhood. He didn’t know what emotion was the strongest - relief, or embarrassment.

Wishing not to continue groveling like an idiot, Gohan wiped off his eyes and backed away. He found Vegeta, who bore unusually enlarged eyes of disbelief.

Both Gohan and Vegeta had written Goku off as a low-class Saiyan who couldn’t handle even the weakest Frieza had to offer and now he’d just killed his strongest underling. And somehow survived the rigors of power even greater than Frieza’s nearly destroying his body.

Gohan’s father really was invincible, it seemed.

“Remind me...to never do that again,” Goku snickered, towards nobody in particular.

“Yeah, I’ll say. It’s like you were trying to give us the heart attack this time.”

Gohan turned around and winced anxiously at the woman who had just spoken. It was the same beautiful, aqua-haired woman on the island when Raditz first arrived. Between her, the short bald one, and the more elderly bald man whom he also saw amongst the group, he found himself assaulted by flashbacks of his first low in a series of escalating lows.

“Sure hosted one helluva wedding, huh Bulma?” Goku said with a laugh that hurt more than anything.

“Shoulda counted on something,” Bulma absent-mindedly replied as she shifted towards Gohan. Rather than clumsily attempt conversation, she nodded with a cordial, but somber, smile and mumbled a “Hi” while averting her eyes.

“Man, this is surreal,” said the scarfaced warrior whom Gohan awkwardly shrank from. Had somebody put himself and Raditz in a blender and popped this guy out? “You look just like him.”

While Gohan scowled, Bulma scolded the man even more harshly. “A little tact , Yamcha? Kid just met his father for the first time in eight years and watched him almost croak. He’s in no mood to chat.”

“Alright, alright, sheesh,” Yamcha said, though Gohan heard him mumble under his breath, “Not like he needed you to remind him or anything…”

He was right on that front - though she thought she was being tactful, Bulma’s remarks made Gohan bristle bitterly. He flickered his Ki to initiate a hasty flight away until Vegeta’s familiar grunt caught his attention.

“Enough pleasantries,” Vegeta said, eyes on Goku. “Kakarot!”

Though addressed gruffly, Goku still lightly chuckled. “Lemme guess? Dragon Balls, right? Ain’t like I can stop ya now…”

“Nonsense.”

While Goku gasped in surprise, Gohan raised an intrigued eyebrow as he suspected Vegeta may have been on his wavelength. As he always did, the Saiyan prince folded his arms above his chest while he scrutinized the Earth-raised Saiyan.

“Immortality may not be necessary against Frieza...if you tell me how a low-class Saiyan can go from weaker than even his pathetic excuse for a brother, to...to...” 

Vegeta cut himself short, an indignant growl rumbling from his teeth while every muscle in his face tightened towards his brows. 

“Wait, immortality? Freezer?” Bulma cut in. “What’s going on, exactly?”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, wench ,” Vegeta snapped. 

Rather than cower, Bulma scoffed and folded her arms just as firmly as Vegeta. “Well, excuse me . ”

Vegeta darkly tilted his head towards her and stepped forward - and then Gohan stepped towards him . His expression wasn’t confrontational, but urgent and disarming. Behind Gohan, Yamcha stepped in front of Bulma with a defensive glare, though Vegeta clearly hadn’t acknowledged him. He respected Gohan’s power, however, and let it slide.

When Vegeta turned back around to Goku, Gohan briefly smirked as he thought of Kiyomi.

“Whatever,” Vegeta grumbled. “How do you train? What’s the secret to that strange Kai-whatever technique of yours?”

Whether he was just loopy or finding humor in everything, Goku grinned again. “Well, you’d have to die to learn it, but I doubt there’s a King Kai where you’d be goin’.”

Vegeta growled and lowered his tightly squeezed fists, ready to threaten him like Bulma, but glanced at Gohan and stopped himself. Beleaguered, he bit his bottom lip while looking to the skies with frustration. Gohan eyed him studiously; clearly, Vegeta was trying to acquiesce to his still-present attachment to his father.

“What exactly do you mean?” Vegeta asked in the type of measured tones he used towards Frieza. “We don’t have time for you to bullshit me - Frieza will be coming for us, now.”

“I know, but that’s what I’m saying,” Goku said, frowning in thought. “I learned it in Other World after I died. And you have to really toughen up your body. I had to get used to ten times this planet’s gravity before I even started.”

“We were born on a planet with a stronger gravitational pull than here,” Vegeta boasted. “That’s a simple matter. There’s clearly more to it than that .”

With his back facing him, Vegeta pointed his thumb at a certain alien still lurking away from Goku’s group of friends. “If that green slug back there could muster up a bargain-basement version on his own, then I can push it even further.”

“Mind repeating that, dwarf?” Piccolo asked, quickly jumping into the fray with a scowl that spelled murder.

“Gladly,” Vegeta replied evenly.

While the non-fighters all backed away in fear of the potentially explosive confrontation, Goku took on the role of peacemaker with his labored laughter. 

“Aw, c’mon guys, let’s just hold hands and play nice,” he quipped, drawing glares from both his long-term rival and the Saiyan who was growing to resent him with every passing second. “Look, I’m not even sure how reliable the Kaio-Ken is anymore. Just look at me. If the Senzu beans went and stopped growin’ right now I might not ever walk again.”

“That may be true for a peasant like you, but not me."

“Then be my guest and burn yourself out ‘fore Frieza does.”

Vegeta’s face flushed shade crimson as he snarled. “A cast-off traitor like you has no right to invoke that man’s name to me!”

In his rage, he seemed less interested in honoring Gohan’s wishes and menacingly closed in on his defenseless father. It was Lapis that stood up and got in his face before Gohan could restrain him.

Surprised, but unbothered, Vegeta sucked at his teeth. “Am I supposed to be afraid of a walking mannequin, now?”

For his part, Lapis was equally unfazed. He bore into Vegeta with his almost emotionless, icy stare. “Maybe.”

Gohan, on the other hand, reached the limits of patience and stomped his foot on the ground. Shaking his head, he turned back to his father. “Whatever! Technique or no technique, you’re still stronger than anyone short of Frieza’s officers. It doesn’t really make any sense.”

“Thank gravity,” Goku replied.

“Stop being clever and just tell us, dammit!” Vegeta snapped.

“Well, somebody else here could explain it better, but I think you’re gonna have to give her permission to speak, first,” Goku joked, gesturing his head to his group of friends.

An annoyed sense of dread overcame Vegeta’s face as he and Gohan turned around, eyes already directed at the scowling blue-haired woman without even needing her name mentioned.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because I’m just RARING to help this guy out.”

“You speak as if you have a death wish,” Vegeta said as Gohan winced. He stared at Bulma with his head tilted, like he was sizing her up as prey; Gohan had seen that look a million times, and it never ended well.

Yamcha recognized it, too, because he stepped forward even though he trembled in the Saiyan’s dangerous presence. “Is that so?”

“Stand down, Earth Raditz.”

Yamcha squinted in confusion. “ Earth Radi-”

“Will everybody just shut the fuck up?”

Gohan had seen enough nonsense. Nearly everyone, including Vegeta, cautiously backed away from him. Gohan suspected it wasn’t just the vulgarity; even with his injuries, his strength still eclipsed anyone else’s on the planet. And he had failed at tucking the volatile emotions under his sleeve.

Bulma, on the other hand, offered Gohan a snarkily polite smile. “Thank you, Gohan; I very much agree. But as far as Goku’s training goes, I built him a room where he can manipulate the gravity level as much as he pleases. Pretty reckless if you ask me, but that’s how he toughens himself up.”

Gohan and Vegeta’s jaws dropped; something so brilliant, and yet obvious at the same time. And someone on Earth created it?

Vegeta whipped back around to Goku. “You may be clueless to our ways, but surely you know one of the secrets to a Saiyan’s power, right?”

Groggily, Goku nodded. “Talkin’ about how my power jumps up when I recover from almost dyin’, right?”

Vegeta nodded.

“Yup. That’s pretty much been my M.O in the gravity room. And I oughta get a big ol’ boost from this, huh?”

While Vegeta rolled his eyes, a petulant grunt left Piccolo’s prominent teeth. “So that’s what it is, then? Tch. You Saiyans and your shortcuts.”

Vegeta smirked. “Envious, are we?”

As Vegeta and Piccolo locked into another staredown, it was Krillin that defused all of the tension with a laugh. “Well sheesh, if humans worked that way I’d be a friggin’ God by now.”

“Anyway,” Vegeta cut in. “We’d better start training with your methods, then. If we push ourselves to the limit under higher gravity and recover, there’s no telling how powerful we could become. But before I do anything, I need to figure out what Frieza’s next move will be.” He peered his head around the others to scan the area. “I know those two fools dropped their scouters somewhere around here…”

Vegeta flew away from the group and wandered the streets in search of those scouters. With what could have only been the magic Vegeta said the Namekian race possessed, Piccolo produced a white cape and turban snugly over himself out of thin air.

“Well, whatever the hell this Frieza character does, I’m sure I’ll find out through the ether,” Piccolo said as he cracked his neck. “I’m leaving. Any more time around you fools and I’ll vomit.”

“Always fun hangin’ with ya too, Piccolo,” Goku said.

Of course, Piccolo didn’t return Goku’s sarcasm, only grunting with annoyance. “Whatever. This doesn’t change anything.” He looked up and narrowed his eyes intently at Gohan. “And this isn’t over. ”

Gohan merely smirked at Piccolo before he flew off. He actually didn’t mind the no-nonsense Namekian. Their issue was a simple case of mutual dislike, free of any underlying psychological or moral dilemmas.

While various earthlings scowled at Piccolo as he took flight, Gohan pensively observed. Goku dropped his goofy, delirious smile and stared back. In his mind, Gohan couldn’t find anything right to say. What could he say? In no uncertain terms, he had rejected his father; then, plainly revealed in the darkest moment that he still cried for him. A bothersome thought.

“Y’know the Dragon Balls can’t grant the same wish twice, right?” Goku asked. Gohan intensified his stare, inquisitive. “If I’d have died there, it would’ve been for keeps. Thanks.”

Instead of a “You’re welcome” or “No problem,” Gohan looked away, dwelling harder on his father’s close call. An immense guilt overcame him, as he blamed himself and all of his decisions for dragging such a monster to Earth. When he looked back, a patch of ice formed on Goku’s chest and quickly spread through his body; recognizing the image too well, Gohan squeezed his eyes shut to push it away.

He opened them back up, and Goku’s entire crippled body was an ice sculpture. Yet, he still spoke.

“Gohan?”

His breath heightening, Gohan backed away.

“Are you-?”

“Hey!”

It was Vegeta’s harsh voice behind him that snapped Gohan out of his hallucination. Goku was back to normal; still broken, now confused, but normal. Gohan turned around to find Vegeta holding a red and blue scouter in each hand. Both of them were cracked, the red one sparking.

“They’re both broken,” Vegeta said. “See if you can fix them.”

Gohan took the blue one and examined it, then opened up the white receiver. The cords were out of place; nimbly using his fingers, Gohan rearranged them and held them down as a temporary fix, then closed the receiver shut. When he placed it over his ear and pushed the red button, it flickered back on.

“Whoa, a warrior and a tech guy, huh?” Bulma remarked. “Guess that you ending up there wasn’t a total tragedy.”

When Gohan scornfully side-eyed her, Bulma stepped back and nearly slapped her own mouth, dismay overtaking her features. “I’m so sorry; I get too quippy sometimes and-”

“Shut up.”

Gohan scrolled against the glass with that thousand-yard stare of his while Bulma backed away in shame. When he reached the insignia he was looking for, he squeezed his fist.

“Frieza!” he yelled, fired up from Bulma’s remark. Everyone’s attention locked onto him.

“This can’t be who I think it is…”

That slimy voice was the same as it always had been, making every inch of Gohan’s skin crawl. But that air of anger beneath it calmed him.

“They’re dead.”

“No...no! You lie, Saiyan!”

Boastful and confident, Gohan smirked. “Whose scouter do you think I’m speaking from?”

A beat of silence. Across from him, Vegeta laughed. He didn’t even need to hear the conversation to know.

“Disorderly...mutinous...simian SLIME!!!!”

Gohan didn’t even mind the ear-splitting pitch of his screech.

“I have handled you monkeys with kid gloves for far too long. I am DONE! I’m rebuilding my reserves thanks to the mess your pack and those girls made, but when I’m done, we are ALL coming down on you! I know for certain you and your Alpha Ape fled to your home planet...so I hope you enjoy watching me and every last one of my men light it in flames!”

“Can’t wait.”

Vegeta eagerly mouthed for Gohan to put him on. He obliged and tossed it at him. After placing it over his ear, Vegeta cackled like a mischievous child.

“Greetings, Lord Frieza . I know all about the lies you’ve fed me about Planet Vegeta. But I hope you enjoy what little bit of time you have left, because it’s all coming to an end.”

After a pause, Vegeta snickered and tossed the scouter back at Gohan. “Daddy's little tyrant shut it off.”

Gohan rotated the scouter in his hands a few times, contemplating clicking it back on before he looked back up at everyone else. “Frieza’s coming here. And he’s bringing his entire army with him.”

A mix of surprise and fear overcame Goku's friends and allies. Goku himself held firm (as firm as he could, anyway) with a stern nod.

“So in other words...a bunch of guys like that monster?!” Krillin shouted.

“Not quite, but stronger than any of you vermin,” Vegeta said, to the chagrin of Krillin and Yamcha. Towards Gohan, he asked, “Did he say how long?”

“Nope. But he said he’s busy putting his army back together, so I guess he’s got his own mess to take care of first.”

Vegeta snickered. “Of course. Your girlfriend staged an uprising, so I’m sure it spread across a few reckless planets. But regardless, we’ve got to hurry and train like our lives depend on it - because they do.”

Being reminded of Arepa made Gohan stare at the blue scouter intensely, his thumb again inching towards the red button. A pang of fear hit him before his finger could press down, however, so he just let it rest in his palm.

“I got a gravity chamber set up in the mountains near my house,” Goku said. “You guys could use that. ‘Course, I’m out of commission ‘til a new batch of Senzu beans grow, so you’ll get a head start on me.”

While Vegeta didn’t offer much reaction, Gohan gazed at Goku deep in thought. He’d be training with his father near his home, where his mother was close by and would likely make an appearance from time to time. His eye twitched as he gripped the scouter tightly.

“Absolutely not,” Gohan said, catching Vegeta and the others by surprise. When he saw the flash of grief on Goku’s face, he briskly turned around. He hadn’t meant to say it so harshly, but his feelings on the matter were too strong.

Bulma awkwardly glanced back and forth between father and estranged son before clearing her throat. “I’ve...got a prototype of the gravity room at my place, so if I just fine tune it, it’ll be just as good as Goku’s.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the better, actually. Mine would get a little cluttered with three Saiyans, anyway,” Goku said. 

Gohan flinched; he could pick up dishonesty in his sleep, and his father’s optimism came off more restrained and performative. He stared at the grass, telling himself he made the right choice.

“In any case, we can ill afford to lollygag and waste time,” Vegeta said. He turned to Bulma. “This gravity room’s at your place, correct?”

Bulma nodded, and before she could even finish saying “Yes,” Vegeta squeezed her arm and flew away with her dangling and screaming in his grip. Even Gohan was startled, though it was Yamcha who took the most issue and prepared to fly after him.

Master Roshi held him back. “Easy. That guy’s rotten but we’re on the same side for now. He won’t hurt her.”

“Besides, with her gone you’re the only one who knows how to fly the plane,” Krillin joked. “At any rate, let’s just get Goku to a hospital; we’ll follow them back to West City. Anybody seen Launch, by the way?”

“She’s looting,” Lazuli snickered. “I’ll get her.”

While Krillin and Lapis lifted Goku’s arms and legs, Gohan crouched down as he prepared to follow Vegeta’s flight. Just as he lifted off, however, a thought hit him. He turned around and directed his troublingly stern eyes towards the crew.

“If my mother shows up at the hospital, don’t any of you even think about mentioning me.”

After a few jittery nods of compliance from the humans, Goku’s glum, aimless stare was the last thing Gohan saw before he turned around and flew off.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you crazy idiot?!” Bulma shouted in Vegeta’s precarious hand.

Vegeta didn’t answer, just growling. Her screeches already had him contemplating “accidentally” dropping her to a grisly death. He sensed Gohan closing in and slowed down a bit for him to catch up.

“Just tell me where your house is located,” Vegeta ordered.

“I-It’s the same place where you first showed your stupid face!”

“Reckless way to talk to the man holding you thousands of feet in the air, don’t you think?!”

At her wit’s end, Bulma growled. To the fortune of Vegeta’s ear drums, she remained silent for the rest of the flight while he retraced his directions. The beating had done a number to his head among other things, but decades of flying around planets made navigation second nature.

Once they reached that large, yellow dome, Vegeta flew down towards the backyard and carelessly dumped Bulma onto the grass. Her loud shriek of pain made Gohan and Vegeta flinch.

“You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve handling a delicate lady like that, jackass!” she yelled as she dusted off her purple dress.

“And you have some nerve talking to me like I can't snap your neck!” Vegeta barked. He tried reigning in his temper, having never met a powerless being who so freely disrespected him; or at least, one that lived more than a few seconds afterwards. “Hurry up and lead me to this room if you know what’s good for you.”

“Your wish is my command,” Bulma said with the kind of flippancy that flared Vegeta’s blood. “I have to find the capsule first, so stay here and try not to tear this city up while I’m gone, ‘kay?”

Vegeta’s eyes ballooned in hysterical disbelief when the aqua-haired firecracker spun on her heel and marched inside the building. Really, he should’ve taken her up on that and saw how she’d like it. Instead, he turned to Gohan, who had somehow remained calm.

“Have you met this bitch before?”

“Once.”

The terse nature of Gohan’s reply alone told Vegeta all the additional details, too. As the boy’s head moved back and forth between the blue scouter and the Capsule Corporation building straight ahead, Vegeta gazed studiously at him. Between his trance-like state after they first landed and the emotions towards his father that ranged from angry enough to kill him to crying desperately in the face of his potential death, the return home was taking the toll on Gohan’s fragile mind that Vegeta feared.

Bulma returned from the building with a remote in one hand and miniature, blue vial in the other. After clicking the switch at the top of the vial, she tossed it to the floor in an eruption of smoke. Reflexively, Vegeta crouched and raised his arms in defense, thinking it might have been a flash grenade delivered out of spite from the blue-haired shrew.

What actually resulted from the explosion dropped his and Gohan’s jaws.

A massive white pod, dome-shaped like the building and with “CAPSULE CORPORATION 0” written in black on the front. It wasn’t the apparent spaceship that astounded Vegeta as much as the outlandish technology. Ignoring the north sector was a massive blunder on the entire Cold Force’s part.

After Bulma clicked her remote, the door at the front of the ship opened and gave way to a steel ramp. “Follow me,” she directed while she jogged towards it.

Gohan and Vegeta followed her up the ramp and onto the burgundy, tiled floor inside. Vegeta looked around the expansive interior, his vision circling around the white walls before settling on the pillar in the center that held a control pane with a black screen.

Bulma walked over to the pillar. “It’s actually a spaceship. Goku used it to…” She froze, and sighed. “Let’s just say he used it in the past and I went and tested the gravity device on here in case he’d need it again.”

Judging from the way both she and Gohan flinched, Vegeta didn’t need to figure out why she stopped herself.

“The gravity level goes up to 20 times this planet’s gravity, though Goku’s room let’s him take it up to 100,” Bulma explained. Vegeta nodded in acknowledgement while joining her at the control panel. It wasn’t just to get a closer look, though - his spine still on fire, amongst the various other injuries and abrasions racking his body, Vegeta needed some support. He pressed his hands on the deck and hunched over.

While he wouldn’t say it,  Bulma’s intelligence impressed him. Judging from this simple device and the nature of the vast building she called home, she was clearly a technological mastermind. Like Kiyomi, but even smarter - and considerably more annoying. And somehow even more attractive, he begrudgingly conceded.

“I’ve read theories about gravity devices but never actually saw them in use,” Gohan observed.

“Yeah!” Bulma said, her voice lighting up. “I knew a space cop or whatever who had a ship with an anti-gravity device. My father and I figured out how to replicate it.”

“Space cop?” Vegeta asked. “You wouldn’t mean a Galactic Patrolman, would you?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Bulma replied. When both Vegeta and Gohan’s expressions darkened, she grew anxious. “I only met the guy once, if that’s a problem or something. I guess it’d make sense if your, um, job put you two at odds.”

“Please,” Vegeta scoffed. “They’re terrified of us. But an entanglement with one of them set this whole madness off.” He almost chuckled at Gohan’s venomous scowl when he glanced at him; he was no doubt thinking of that Gomayn brat whom he disproportionately hated.

“It wouldn’t happen to have been a dweeby purple guy, would it?”

“No.”

Bulma sighed in relief before pointing at two black arrow keys. “Well anyway, these buttons control the gravity levels.” She moved her finger down to the red button underneath. “And this is its power button.”

“I see,” Vegeta said with a nod. “Now get out.”

“ Excuse me?”

“Get out,” Vegeta repeated, as if she should have already known why.

Bulma leaned her hateful scowl to the side of Vegeta’s flame-like hair. “Now let’s get one thing straight, guy, because you’ve been nothing but nasty to me from the word ‘go,’ and-”

“You want to have your fragile bones crushed by 20 times this planet’s gravity, then be my guest,” Vegeta said, feigning innocence. “It’s your funeral.”

Her face going pale, Bulma backed away. “Oh. Yeah. IIIIIIII’ll be going now.” Bulma raced for the door, but stopped short and turned around. “Wait, are you sure? Not that I care, but the way you’ve been limping and hunching over-”

“Get out! ”

“‘Kay!”

Bulma zipped away like a blue blur and shut the door with the push of a button on the way out.

Granted, she hadn’t been lying, as Vegeta himself stared at the buttons wondering if it was truly wise to test the machine’s capabilities in his condition. But he concluded that if a rise in gravity were enough to kill him, he’d deserve to die a disgrace.

“Brace yourself,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Gohan. When Gohan planted his feet and squared his shoulders, Vegeta pushed the red button. A figure of 1G showed up on the monitor, which Vegeta assumed was the gravity level. He held the top red arrow until the number flipped to 20 and stepped back, steadying himself just like Gohan.

“Gravity set to: 20,” said an automated voice.

In a matter of seconds, a grueling pressure slammed down on Gohan and Vegeta like an invisible anvil onto their shoulders. The scouters they both held dropped like stones while their bodies crumbled to the floor, Vegeta feeling his bones crunch underneath his skin from the simple act of kneeling. He could practically feel the organs in his body shifting, too; his blood boiled through his veins while his heart thumped as if trying to escape his chest to free itself.

“I...I’d say...it works,” Gohan grit out through his teeth.

Vegeta nodded and immediately regretted it when his neck cranked. The pressure on his spine finally forced him onto his stomach, giving him no choice but to crawl for the control panel. And even that brought his muscles and ligaments inches from tearing. I should’ve started lower…

After what felt like an eternity, Vegeta flung his arm onto the control panel without even looking up. He moved his hand around until he felt the biggest button on the board and pressed it as hard as 20 times Earth’s gravity would allow. As soon as he let go, it felt like his own body left itself with how freely he could move. He rolled onto his back, panting as if he’d been in a battle even worse than the war he’d just survived against Avocado.

And he laughed .

Visions of the strength he always dreamed of flooded him. He could finally see it: the long fabled Super Saiyan transformation. In that flash of power Goku used to vanquish Avocado, Vegeta thought maybe he had achieved it in that moment. But a low-class could never; he couldn’t handle the power of his foreign technique and nearly died. Vegeta, fourth in the royal lineage, was destined for it.

Finally, Vegeta would stake his claim as the strongest...

Gohan got back up relatively easily while Vegeta still groveled on his back.

...If the boy doesn’t beat me to it…

When Bulm saw the door open, the ramp lower, and Vegeta and Gohan limp down, she nodded with approval; she wouldn’t have missed Vegeta, but at least they hadn’t died. 

“So I take it the gravity worked?” Bulma asked, though Vegeta’s ragged breathing and slumped shoulders gave her an answer. She just wanted the abrasive bastard to acknowledge it.

“Yes, it worked,” Vegeta heaved, grasping his knees.

“Well, of course it did,” Bulma boasted with an arrogant bluster that matched the man across. “I’ll take your dry heaves as a thank you. To which I say, you’re welcome.”

She turned around without seeing Vegeta’s snarl towards her and eyed the rows of tables in the backyard that were covered in sealed bins of food.

“There was supposed to be a wedding and I ordered catering for the reception. But for reasons I’ll leave unspoken- ” Vegeta haughtily grunted. “-That won’t be happening. Now if my theories all these years are correct, I assume Goku’s black hole of a stomach has to do with him being a Saiyan. Metabolism, y’know? So as little as you deserve any hospitality, my family didn’t accumulate morally dubious wealth by wasting money; so have at it.”

On cue, Gohan and Vegeta’s stomachs rumbled. Like Goku, if Goku was a grizzled spice pirate.

Five minutes later, the two Saiyans were laying waste to the food bins like they either never enjoyed a decent meal in their entire lives or had actually lit up a joint in the spaceship. No plates, no forks, just grabbing food at random and stuffing them into their mouths. In a matter of minutes, Bulma watched a table’s worth of the food she’d ordered reduced to a pile of trays. While they ate, Bulma enjoyed her more toxic craving through a cigarette.

In the middle of their glutinous display, Bulma’s yellow aircraft descended back onto the lawn. Yamcha, Krillin, the innocent blue-haired Launch, and all of the others stepped out, sans Goku. As they joined the three by the tables, they too grimaced at Gohan and Vegeta’s two man rampage over the catering.

“I guess Goku’s appetite is a Saiyan thing,” Yamcha remarked, echoing Bulma’s earlier sentiment while he approached her. “At least you’re in one piece.”

“Like you could do anything if I weren’t,” Bulma said with an eye roll as she put out her cigarette in the ashtray resting on the table, right next to her pack of replacements.

Slumping his shoulders, Yamcha groaned. “C’mon Bulma, you gotta let me off the hook some time . You SAID we were on a break!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Bulma looked away and shut her eyes.

“Can we at least be friends again?”

She opened her eyes back up with a smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

Taking that as a yes, Yamcha laughed and went to the catering tables, though Gohan and Vegeta still maintained their stranglehold over the food. Not even bothering to compete with them, Krillin waved them off.

“Goku’s resting up at West City Hospital,” Krillin announced, finally getting Gohan and Vegeta’s sauce-stained faces away from the food. “Doc said he’ll be out for a month but the Senzu beans should be back sooner than later. I’m sure Korin knows what’s going on.”

“That’s the second or third time I’ve heard about this Senzu bean business,” Vegeta said. “What the hell is it?”

“They’re beans that replenish your health and energy,” Krillin replied. “They heal even the worst injuries in an instant.”

Gohan and Vegeta’s flabbergasted reactions were worthy of a picture. “What doesn’t this stupid planet have?!” Vegeta asked, peevishly folding his arms. “Shortcut after damn shortcut over here…”

“Well that’s Earth for ya,” Bulma said. “But anyway, what’s in store for you guys now? It’ll be easier for me to just tune up the ship, meaning you’ll be training here. And Gohan, you made it pretty clear you’re not staying with your parents.”

When Gohan grimaced, Bulma bit her tongue yet again. Whether it was the alcohol still in her system or her usual snarkiness, she had clearly not endeared herself to a child whom she was sure didn’t need any more prodding.

“...Sorry,” she said with a twiddle of her thumbs. “But what will you two be doing until I tune up the ship?”

They both looked back and forth between each other and Bulma, evidently having as much of a clue as she did. While Bulma couldn’t get a clear read on Gohan, she suspected he would have no trouble behaving himself when left to his own devices. The same could not be said for Vegeta. Going off of Krillin and Yamcha’s assessment of their Ki, Gohan was strong enough to stand against him if it really came down to it; but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

What she was about to offer reviled every fiber of her being, but she was never the type to fear anything. She took a deep breath.

“Matter of fact, how about this? You two could…” Even saying it was a physical struggle. “Live here? Would save a lot of trouble logistically, y’know?”

As Bulma expected, everyone including the Saiyans looked at her as if she’d had one drink too many. And, as she also expected, Yamcha was the first dissenter; not that she could blame him this time.

“You can’t tell me you’re okay with sharing a roof with these guys, are you?” Yamcha asked.

“ Excuse me?”

Vegeta’s indignant growl froze Yamcha with fear; instant regret scrawled itself all over his face. He didn’t dare turn around, instead lowering his head and bracing himself for whatever hell was about to rain down on him.

“‘ These guys?’ You speak awfully disrespectful for such a weakling,” Vegeta dangerously drawled. “Shall I correct you?”

Bulma haplessly advanced to try anything that could thwart Vegeta, but it was Gohan who held him at bay. “Enough, Vegeta; I’ll handle this.” Though Vegeta rolled his eyes with an aggrieved scowl, he stepped back.

Bulma’s eyes widened in disbelief at how a child, around the same age as his father when she first met him, could hold so much command over a man as frightening as Vegeta. Was it simple power, or something more?

“What the hell do you think we’re here for?” Gohan asked, his voice scalding hot. “We’re not worried about your Dragon Balls anymore and have far bigger things on our plate than stirring up problems on my own fucking home.”

Though Bulma tried chiming in, she felt her heart wrench in her chest from the way Gohan’s voice cracked. She looked up at Yamcha; as much as she threw petty shots at him, she hated how guilty he looked when he was just looking out for her, too. Both sides were justified in their hostility.

Gohan pointed his glare at Vegeta. “Decide for yourself. I don’t give a shit.” 

He flew away to the spaceship while Yamcha feebly reached out for an apology. 

Vegeta looked over his shoulder at Gohan and the ship before turning back around to Bulma. With his practically unyielding scowl, Bulma couldn’t tell if he was about to unload on her yet again or just thinking about the weather.

“Whatever,” he finally said. “It makes sense, as you said; and despite your insufferable personality, your intellect will be of use.”

“Wow, this sounds like the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Bulma said with a crooked smile that at least inspired an (unamused) snort from the Saiyan prince. “Just one rule, though.”

When Bulma smirked, Vegeta raised a curious eyebrow.

“I know you’re gonna be sharing a roof with all this,” she said, sliding her hands down her dress to accentuate her curvaceous figure and even lowering her voice to a breathy husk. “But look and don’t touch. Cool?”

While Yamcha and Krillin rolled their eyes, Vegeta balked in abject disgust, his flustered brows and bugged out eyes making Bulma cackle. 

“Are you out of your mind?! ” Vegeta scoffed. “Vulgar little minx…”

Bulma only laughed even louder, delighted to know even someone as prickly as Vegeta could be made uncomfortable. If she were really going to live with someone like him, eking out an advantage would be crucial. She turned around, to the backdoor.

“Follow me inside. Don’t forget the rule, now!”

She halfway braced herself for a blast that would end her life while she led him inside. Though he growled at her, he civilly followed her into the vast blue walls of Capsule Corporation. She looked over her shoulder, considering it a win when she saw his observing stare at the various gadgets through the halls. His limp, even more pronounced after his gravity room test, was still a cause for concern, however.

“Before you get situated, you’ve gotta get those injuries taken care of.”

“This is nothing ,” Vegeta scoffed. “I’ve walked through far worse.”

“Well that was over there. You’re on Earth, now.” Vegeta actually hummed in surprise, as if had genuinely considered her point. “If you’re gonna beat some all-powerful space dictator, then you can’t have spinal complications, y’know, complicating shit.”

“Whatever.”

She translated that as “You’re right.” Just as she was about to lead him upstairs, however, her mother and her head of puffy blonde hair headed towards her. If she wasn’t sure he would kill her for it, she would’ve grabbed Vegeta and shoved him in the opposite direction to escape her.

“Hi, dear! The wedding’s got you randy, I see!” her mother said.

Bulma’s face turned bright red. “ Oh my God.”

Before Bulma could stop her, she jumped right in between her and Vegeta and leaned close enough into his face to unsteady his balance. “Ooh, you’re the dashing rogue who flew in from the sky, aren't you?

“ D-Dashing?! ” Vegeta stuttered, his face as red and overwhelmed as Bulma’s.

Feigning shock, she turned back around to Bulma with her hand over her mouth. “Hooking up with a bad boy to get over Yamcha, huh? Well-played! You could use some raw passion and you’re not getting any younger!”

Bulma closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose while Vegeta incoherently babbled.

“I know you gave everyone the weekend off, but just be mindful and don’t get too loud. Have fun!” And like a tornado, she twirled off after throwing everything out of sorts.

As soon as her mother was out of earshot, Bulma opened her eyes and thanked the heavens Vegeta was just completely gobsmacked and not rampaging through everything in sight. She motioned him towards the elevator.

“I am so sorry about all that. Mothers, right?” She quickly slapped her own mouth, remembering Raditz’s tidbit about the entire Saiyan race getting wiped out by a comet. Luckily, Vegeta just grunted and followed her into the elevator. 

“We’ll go this way instead. The awkward-free route,” she said as she clicked a few buttons.

Of course, with her idle whistling and side-eye glances, the ride to the top floor was anything but awkward-free. But she needed something to endure the silent, brooding presence of Vegeta, who was almost like a caricature of a kung-fu movie antagonist. He just stared at the door with that razor blade of an expression.

When the elevator bell ringed and the doors mercifully slid open, Bulma led Vegeta into the peach-colored hallway. “It’s a whole medical wing. Medicinal research, workplace safety and all that. Like my mom said, everybody’s off, so I’m afraid you’ll be in the hands of me and my semesters of Physiology and Sports Medicine.”

She doubted Vegeta either knew or cared what she was talking about, but she could never stand dead air, especially when tension polluted it. When they stepped inside an infirmary, Vegeta took a seat on one of the medical tables while Bulma pushed a cart to the shelf and shuffled through a few rows. After placing all of the necessary items on the cart, she pushed it over to the table, where Vegeta was haggardly slumped over with his forearms on his knees.

She stood in front of him expectantly for a few moments, until confusion came over his eyes.

“Well?” she asked.

“What?”

“Your armor!”

Vegeta heaved a raspy sigh but nonetheless tugged his armor over his head. She didn’t miss the way he winced, or how his muscles twitched. After he tossed it to the floor - instead of just shoving it to the end of the table - he pulled down the top of his body suit. Bulma gasped.

No, it wasn’t that his upper body looked like it had been carved by history’s greatest sculptors - it certainly did, but still. It wasn’t even the extent of the bruises and abrasions sustained from the battle with that purple monster. She’d seen Goku with worse. But the sheer number of scars all over his skin made his torso look less like a body and more like her cat’s scratching post.

“What did you expect? A mural?”

Vegeta’s gibe and accompanying scowl made Bulma reach for the cart out of embarrassment without even knowing where to start. He had read her face perfectly. Seeing the violence of his past scrawled so plainly on his skin brought her chills - not just on instinct, but at the thought of what Gohan had been subjected to.

She’d wound up grabbing a pin and a rag, so she supposed stitching his cuts would be a good way to start. Though Vegeta sucked at his teeth to belittle her.

“If you’re just going to apply stitches, I could very well do that myself.”

Bulma rolled her eyes and placed the pin back on the cart. “Well okay, Dr. V, let’s see you fix that back then, too.”

When Vegeta grunted and looked to the side, Bulma silently pumped her fist in victory. A typical insecure manly man, this one was.

“Now please don’t bark at me, but could you lay on your stomach for me?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes but offered no protest, laying down flat as asked and giving Bulma even worse cringes. This time, it wasn’t just the scars on his back, but the incredibly visible curve of his spine. She couldn’t even call it an s-curve so much as a snake -curve. 

“Sheesh, how bad was that monster?!”

“This is actually the work of your friend ,” Vegeta spat bitterly.

“Goku?” Bulma asked as she put on a pair of thick gloves. “Or uh, Carrot, or whatever it is you guys call him?”

“ Kakarot ,” Vegeta corrected as Bulma lightly pressed against his back. “And yes, the low-class sellout did it with the power he had handed to him by a God.”

“I wouldn’t call having his heart fail and getting a hole blasted through it five minutes later ‘handed to him,’ but hey, who’s writing the rulebook?”

“So what-” Before Vegeta could contest her assessment, she slammed her elbow down on his back with all of the strength she could muster; in his ravaged state he actually grunted and bent in response. Hearing his reaction made her smirk with satisfaction.

After hacking up spit to gather himself, Vegeta resumed his diatribe. “Where exactly does training in the afterlife and cheating death fall in this rulebook?”

Rolling her eyes, Bulma swapped gloves, reached for her cart, and grabbed a needle. She giggled; if Vegeta were the man they were talking about, he would’ve leaped off the table and flown clean through the roof right about now.

“Well, Vegeta,” Bulma began as she dipped the needle in a vial with a careful, measuring eye. “That’s what we call being a good person and actually being allowed in the nice part of Other Wold. Y’know, after living a life that doesn’t include little things like genocide as a day job and kidnapping toddlers.”

A little more fired up and ignoring Vegeta’s venomous gaze, Bulma pressed a cloth down on Vegeta’s back and injected the needle without a single warning. She enjoyed his little squeak of pain. “It’s cortisone, so you won’t have to walk like Frankenstein; not that you’d even know who that is.”

“But anyway,” Bulma said as she discarded the needle, “Then, because you’re a good person, you have friends who will jump at the chance to bring you back to life when given the opportunity. Hashtag #mindblowing, ain’t it?”

“What the hell is it to you, female?” Vegeta spat as he rolled around and sat back up. “I’m not here for your bullshit lecture.”

Fire igniting in her chest, Bulma tore off her gloves. “What’s it to me? I see my best friend for the first time in five years, meet his adorable little son and then I have to watch your buddy show up and snatch him away. We didn’t know if he was alive or dead, but we had to watch Goku lose every last bit of soul in him. Piccolo despises him and even he could barely stand to see him so miserable, for fuck’s sake.”

She was hovering directly over him, face red enough to make her blue hair stand out even more. Vegeta just looked back at her with a quiet fury.

“You don’t even care, do you?” Bulma spat through her clenched teeth. “You don’t give a shit about what you put two people and all of their friends through.”

“Because things were so damn tough for Kakarot, huh?” Vegeta growled, his black eyes matching Bulma’s in intensity. “He got to lounge on this peaceful little pile of dirt while I had my dignity castrated over and over again by a man who enslaved and destroyed my people! Abused and spat on worse than the lowest creatures, and getting beaten around from civilization to civilization in my time away from that.”

In a terrifyingly swift motion, Vegeta hopped off the table and kicked his armor across the room, the loud smack against the wall nearly scaring Bulma out of her shoes. “I watched my royal father get pushed around by Frieza and his men. My mother, murdered in front of me by his constituents. Lived over three decades of torture under that bastard with no end in sight!”

“So, what?!” Bulma yelled, her anger overriding her trepidation in his imposing presence. “You had to drag Gohan in there to go through all that just like you? So he could be your little meat shield against that monster?”

Vegeta backed away, his face twisting like a needle sharper than the cortisone shot had stabbed him.

“He was four!” Bulma screeched. “Four years old, Vegeta! What the fuck kind of use did a pre-school kid have for you?!”

“I...we... all Saiyans start fighting at that age,” Vegeta said with his eyes to the floor, his voice pathetically limp. “We turned him into a true warrior...”

Bulma leaned away from Vegeta and methodically clapped her hands in sardonic honor. “Oh, wow, great job you guys did with him, huh? Just really fulfilled his potential. He doesn’t look at all like a zombie that’s one nudge away from a nervous breakdown. Move over, Kakarot , ‘cause we’ve got the real Father of the Year right here.”

Instead of delivering the gruesome death Bulma expected after all that, or even one of his already numerous streams of vitriol, Vegeta just stood there. Feeling bold and irrational, Bulma shoved the cart down to the floor and let all of the medical equipment spill with it before she spun on her heel towards the doorway.

“Stitch yourself, since you’re so fucking good at it.”

She stormed out, forgoing the elevator and taking step after aggressive step down Capsule Corp’s long, winding staircase. When she finally reached the bottom floor, she kicked the backdoor open. In the backyard against the blue & orange evening sky, her longtime circle of friends were engaged in an impromptu, intoxicated wedding reception for Krillin and Lapis, with Master Roshi on the microphone crooning doubtlessly crass rtunes.

Ignoring the festivities and in desperate need of a smoke after likely signing off her death warrant in the infirmary, Bulma marched to the table she’d last stood by. While the ashtray was there, the box of cigarettes that had been next to them were gone. She looked up, assuming Launch had swiped them - but she was still in her blue-haired form. Unless her allergies had been acting up, she doubted it was her doing. She looked back and forth around the area, until her eyes faintly found a trail of smoke by the spaceship of all places; she was enviously sensitive to it.

The closer she walked, the stronger the smell of tobacco grew in her nostrils, and the clearer the image became. A boy with long, black hair in battered purple & gold armor, sitting at the end of the ship’s ramp and smoking a cigarette like a man three times his age that was sick of everything. His other hand held a cracked, blue scouter that his eyes were staring a hole into.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised,” Bulma said with a sigh.

Gohan grunted, only acknowledging her with an upward motion of his black pupils. She looked down at him for a few moments, overwhelmed with pity at the sight of his eyes. They weren’t unsettlingly cold and lifeless, nor were they terrifyingly hot and fiery. They were just sad , in the plainest definition of the word.

“Hey,” Bulma began, no expectation of a response. “I’ve been pretty rude and shitty to you today.”

“Hn.”

“I’m horribly tactless sometimes...well, most of the time, actually. But I can’t even imagine everything you’ve been through, and I have no right to trivialize it for some pithy quips. I’m sorry, I really mean it. Whatever it is you’ve done - whatever they made you do - you’ll get no judgment from me.”

Gohan didn’t take his eyes off the scouter, instead removing the cigarette from his mouth and releasing a stream of smoke. He didn’t offer a response, but slid her box of cigarettes back towards her with his boot. With a warm smile, she picked it back up, accepting the gesture. She turned around to join her friends.

“Bulma, right?”

Surprised, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Gohan was still staring at the scouter.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“Ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine…”

Vegeta pushed up and down, his bloody knuckles pressed against the burgundy floor. He ignored the protests of his body that had received only a paltry few hours of rest, miniscule treatment from that blue-haired loudmouth and now bore the pressure of twenty times Earth’s gravity. The first twenty or so push-ups had left him wondering if he would spend the remainder of the day sprawled out on the floor, but now he kept pushing against all good sense.

He should have killed that woman before she finished her tirade on him. He certainly wanted to. His only purpose for even abusing his body right then was redirecting the bloodthirsty aggression.

“One hundred…”

Everything about Earth was pissing him off. Bulma, Goku and his power shortcuts, all of the advantages that he had never been familiar with - Gods above, the sheer amount of time he’d wasted on Frieza’s base. 

“One-oh-one, one-oh-two, one-oh-three…”

And then there was his growing subservience to Gohan. Here he was, the Prince of all Saiyans, walking on eggshells around a low-class warrior’s half-breed son that was only a third his age. All because of the sentimental attachments he failed to snuff out of him.

“One-oh-eight, one-oh-nine, one-ten…”

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe she was right...no, ridiculous. Okay, sure, he’d taken full responsibility when he saw Gohan have that panic attack in Frieza’s torture chamber. She had been right in that regard. But he certainly said nothing about regretting what he had done. Shit, it wasn’t even his damn idea to kidnap Gohan in the first place!

“One-eighteen, one-nighteen…”

His dense blood boiling, Vegeta pushed against the floor with greater frequency, working up a thunderstorm of sweat throughout his entire body. The number of pushups rose like an overclocked scouter, until finally the wrong muscle in Vegeta’s arms snapped and crumbled him to the floor. Even worse, his head bounced against crimson marble on the way down. With his chest heaving, and his muscles twitching, Vegeta laid down in a heap of unfathomable pain.

“Vegeta!”

He flinched and groaned at the sound of Bulma’s shrill voice blaring through the intercom. When he looked up, a video screen descended from the ceiling and displayed her scolding face. 

“I’m not even going to touch on how reckless it is to start pushing your body so rigorously a day after suffering some pretty traumatic injuries,” Bulma said, “But you are aware that I can’t even improve the ship if you’re occupying it, right?”

“Get out,” Vegeta spat through his teeth.

“Oh good, you have concussion symptoms, too. I’m not actually there,” Bulma dryly replied with a maddeningly smug smile. 

Vegeta raised his shaky arm up with his palm spread, ready to blast the screen to pieces but unable to find the energy. In fact, it took most of his power just to even lift his arm at all and keep it up.

With an obnoxious smile, Bulma raised her own hand and waved at him. “Hey! I’m glad to see you too! Nice to see you’re finally warming up to me.” She lowered her arm and rolled her eyes with a sarcastic snort. “Trying to blast me away and can’t even do that . Which proves my point.”

Vegeta lowered his head and stared at the floor. It finally happened. He met somebody in the universe as infuriating as Frieza. Before he could curse his eternal humiliation, he blinked in surprise as the staggering weight left his body. A whistling noise reverberated through the white walls of the spaceship, indicating a shift in pressure.

“I turned off the gravity simulator. I’d rather not get crushed when I go in there.”

Mercifully, the screen went black and retracted into the ceiling. Using more strength than he cared to admit, Vegeta rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It looked just like the zillion other ships he had been in all of his life, a reminder of the inescapable rigors of his past. But unlike the endless despair those vessels filled him with, these circular walls actually contained hope .

They also welcomed dread, because the door opened and the aqua-haired devil soon strolled in, bearing an oversized white coat and jeans, and a toolbox in her hands. The scowl he greeted her with had struck fear in great warriors in and out of Frieza’s army but was dismissed by her while she marched dutifully to the pillar. Laboriously, he sat up, observing like he was trying to decode her brain.

After she put on a pair of large safety goggles and black gloves, Bulma tossed her lab coat to the side, leaving her in a skin-bearing black tank top. Vegeta looked at her for just a few seconds too long for his own liking and jerked his head away. The base thoughts that sparked in his mind were more befitting of Nappa and Raditz; the woman in front of him was an undeniable beauty with a long, flowing mane of blue hair that reminded him of the soothing regeneration fluids, but that was the furthest thing from his priorities. Not to mention she was absolutely insufferable.

As she applied a screwdriver to the control deck, Bulma looked over her shoulder. “As much as I adore your presence, you really don’t need to stick around. This is gonna take a bit.”

“You should be in a rush to escape my presence after your little speech yesterday.” 

Instead of replying, Bulma disassembled the control panel and reached into her toolbox. Vegeta cocked an eyebrow, wishing he could see her face just to confirm that her silence was out of the fear she damn well ought to have regarded him with. 

“Yeah, I thought about our ‘talk’ last night - y’know, while I was up all night with a laser-gun in my hand. Like that would have worked, right?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Her mouth was essentially a sewer of sarcasm.

“Well, I realized you did have a point buried beneath all of the bullshit.” At her remarks, Vegeta’s muscles tensed, ready to physically correct her but unable to. “I was so wound up about Goku and Gohan that I didn’t think about what you’ve been through, either. Not that it erases what you’ve done, but I’m sure this Frieza guy has put you up to a lot of nastiness.”

With a huff, Vegeta folded his aching arms over his chest. But rather than retort, he stared at her puzzlingly. Was this her way of trying to escape the upper tier of his kill list?

“As if I’m just begging for you pity, wench,” he finally scoffed.

“Y’know, after the subtle sexism I get in the boardrooms, the more in-your-face style is rather refreshing.”

Fed up, Vegeta finally found some strength to get up onto his knee. “Do you not realize who the hell I am? Are you so flippant towards me because you think I have a conscience lurking within?”

Bulma put down her screwdriver and turned to face Vegeta with that fearless gleam in her eyes. “No. I just say how I feel until the inevitable happens. But hey, since it hasn’t, I’ll give you some credit. Maybe there is a conscience in you.”

“How absurd,” Vegeta said with a smirk. “Is that why you pity me? You think I’m some innocent mind led astray like Gohan?”

“Maybe?”

“Well there is no maybe, only no. We Saiyans are exactly as Raditz told you back then. Our names were written in the blood of species all across the universe. Frieza’s family just came along, offered to make our favorite pastime more lucrative, and we accepted it like fools.” Fired up from just the thought of Frieza, Vegeta finally arose on both feet. “It’s our nature . If Kakarot hadn’t bumped his head like the court jester he is, you wouldn't know him as a dear friend - you’d only know him as the last face you saw before you woke up in the afterlife.”

Bulma stared at him for a few moments, but soon perplexed him with a smirk. “Well if all it took was a catastrophic brain injury to turn ‘Kakarot’ into a friendly neighborhood Goku, I’ll butt out of your training and pray you hit your head wrong. What shall I rename you when you wake up, though?” She looked up at the ceiling with her hand to her chin as if she was deep in thought. “How about ‘Trunks?’ That sounds nice.”

“You must have hit your head too; would explain your reckless attitude behind your meager power. The only reason you’re alive is because of your technical skill - and even then, I’m sure Gohan could get himself up to speed in the event of your demise.”

And still, Bulma didn’t waver. She mimicked him, folding her arms above her chest. “Gohan’s the elephant in the room here, isn’t he? You say he’s the reason you could kill me, but I think he’s the reason you won’t. ”

Vegeta thought his blood pressure was going to skyrocket, incredulous at her audacity...and her accuracy. With no desire to entertain her further, he spun on his heel. “That’s enough out of you. Hurry up on that gravity device, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Your wish is my command, your majesty,” Bulma chortled. Vegeta shook his head and headed for the door. “BT-dubs, Goku actually did try to kill me when we first met. I talked him out of it, though.”

“All the more reason for me to despise him, then.”

When he heard Bulma giggle before he limped down the ramp, Vegeta cringed in disgust. Dare he said, part of him actually enjoyed his verbal spar with her; she spoke to him like Frieza would, only he didn’t need to watch his tongue. And Frieza damn sure didn’t look like that .

When Vegeta stepped inside, he did a ki scan so he could avoid Bulma’s lascivious mother; while the breakfast she made that morning was certainly welcome, just about everything else about her wasn’t. When he turned to head upstairs, his eyes darted back and forth between the staircase and the elevator. The simple act of moving his legs set Vegeta’s entire body on fire; the elevator would spare him an excruciating trek to the guest rooms upstairs.

On the other hand, using it would be an admission that Bulma was right. Even if she didn’t see it, he would not give her the satisfaction.

And thus, after a deep breath, he walked up the stars, his hand never leaving the rail. Not even a third of the way up the staircase, he stumbled knee-first into the edge of one the steps. Though he grit his teeth through the pain, he internally cursed at himself; what the fuck did he even have to prove to that woman, anyway? In any case, he had made it too far up and turning around would just be more pain, anyway. With his Ki, he floated a couple of inches off the ground and made sure to memorize the building’s design as he drifted up the stairs so he could know what windows to fly towards next time he left the spaceship.

When he finally made it to the top floor, Vegeta pressed his hand against the wall just inches from a doorway to catch his breath. Screw it, Bulma was right - it would be wise to spend the next few days recovering. When he tried pushing his foot forward to move, he could actually feel his bones creaking like rusty tools. He hunched over with an agonizing groan.

“Vegeta?”

Lifting himself back up, Vegeta peered his head through the doorway and found Gohan looking at him from the end of the room, in front of the wide window. Unlike Vegeta, he no longer wore his tattered uniform, instead wearing a gold shirt with the Capsule Corp. logo and baggy, purple sweatpants. What was with him and those colors?

Wishing not to look weak in front of him, Vegeta stood upright and ignored the fire that ignited in his spine when he did so; he was going to fucking kill that kid’s father when all of this business with Frieza was over. Gohan grunted and turned around, staring at the window and watching the rapidly-moving city outside.