Llwchwr

Rising forth from a sleepless and restless night who’s fault lies entirely on the preferences of that whom the bed belongs to. A mattress like bricks tempered with reinforced steel draped with such a flimsy and worn out duvet that it took the sleeper half the night trying to get comfortable before giving up and resigning himself over to the fact that a good night’s rest will not be had by him. His back clicks loudly and uncaring as it tries to recover from what it had to endure.

Brushing back his shaggy thatch of pitch-dark hair out of his face, Yamcha opens his eyes to the second day after Vegeta’s death and such a day that seems wholly fitting for the mood of the other residents. Cracking the calloused knuckles of his gnarled hands he flings back the curtains to survey what the world has in store for him on this dreary day. Thick grey mists have drifted down from the mountains and hills, formed from the transpiration of the many deciduous trees in the forests growing up the foothills of said mountains. The basin of the lake has been altogether veiled by the blanket of moisture hanging heavy this morning, the Sun’s rays bearing down on it doing little to disturb the shrouding fog.

Turning back from the window the reformed bandit rummages through his bag of clothes, living out of a suitcase as unpacking his belongings into this room seems too much of an invasion. Another one of his orange training gis will have to do. Tying the blue belt tight and making sure it’s nice and secure, Yamcha leaves Vegeta’s room down the noiseless corridor. No sounds come from either Ayeka or Ryoko’s rooms, neither door having been opened since it happened. Padding down the stairs, finally he hears some life in this dead house and the tempting aroma of food wafting towards his quivering nostrils.

Humming to herself and in a world of her own Sasami carries on her household activities seemingly oblivious to the affliction of bereavement that has stricken all the other females of the house. Setting up a small little breakfast for her and for any others who have woken up the same time as this early bird. A sincere smile as she turns to see Yamcha leaning in the doorway observing her cook such delicacies that grace his stomach far from as often as he would like. Hungry like the wolf he goes over to the happy child and helps her with the last few steps of preparing food and carries over the dishes onto the table for her.

“Wow, this looks amazing Sasami. I’m sure glad you’re around ‘cos I truly am an awful cook and Puar can testify for that. I wouldn’t want you working yourself too hard though, but it’s a good job Bulma equipped this house with nanobots to do the other chores. I remember her when she was inventing these, that was back in the days when me and her were together and we had no idea what Saiyans were.” Yamcha and Sasami sit down and breakfast together, their moods not affected or dulled by the surrounding bleakness.

Two balls of fluff streak round the corner and dart around the table legs, one blue and the other brown. The two cat-like creatures engaged in the playful antics of a game of chase, with Puar’s ability to fly giving him a slight edge over the land based method of travel that Ryo-ohki is forced to use unless she transforms into a spaceship – which thankfully she hasn’t done yet. Darting back and forth in-between the chairs and legs of Yamcha and Sasami as the human and Juraian finish off their food before the critters tire of their antics and settle down.

“Hey Yamcha.” The blue cat-like transformer hovers up next to his long time pal floating over his shoulder as Ryo-ohki bounds onto the table meowing loudly at a bowl on the table. Yamcha looks over at the bowl of orange root vegetables.

“Hey there Puar, glad to see you’ve made a friend. So … is this what you want Ryo-ohki?” Lifting up one of the carrots from the bowl the desert raider looks at the cabbit. The pleading eyes, pricked up ears and stare fixed on the vegetable dangling from his grasp is enough for him to deduce the will of Ryo-ohki. Dropping the carrot onto the table in front of the overjoyed brown fur ball watching as she pounces on the defenceless taproot viciously. Nothing is left of it, stalk and all has gone down the gullet of the content herbivore.

“I didn’t know you and Trunks’ mom were boyfriend and girlfriend, what went wrong?” Sasami’s childish inquisitiveness is getting the better of her and Yamcha thinks how he has asked himself that same question so many times. Scratching his messy hair he turns casually to look to Puar for a little help to find him gone chasing Ryo-ohki again, taking a deep breath he says the first thing that pops into his head.

“Oh well y’know, it uh … well it was silly adult stuff.” Totally winging it he is so relieved that Sasami actually bought that lame answer.

“ Hmm, Ayeka talks about those quite a lot. Wonder what’s so special about being a grown up.” Sasami leaves him with that as she stands up having finished eating as her busybody self is clearing up and getting ready to wash the pots and pans. Leaning back on his chair Yamcha thinks to himself how he just dodged a bullet when the other child of the house silently steps into the room. Not announcing himself, Trunks sits down at the far end of the table and stares at the food set before him. His Saiyan appetite deserted him the same time his parents did.

“How you doing champ?” Acting as a semi-responsible guardian Yamcha tries to initiate conversation with the withdrawn youth. Simply shrugging Trunks doesn’t acknowledge him. Merely messing with the food on his plate, stirring it in endless circles.

“If you’d like we could pop into the training chamber for a nice little bit of sparring, aye? Come on, I know how much you Saiyans enjoy your fisticuffs so whaddya say?” Without a word Trunks abruptly stands and leaves the room, marching off having not touched any of his breakfast. Shaking his head Yamcha looks over at Sasami with a look on his face saying ‘well I tried’.

“God he just won’t let me in, can you believe he’s still going to school even though I told him I’d let him bunk off? I lost my parents too at a young age … I know what he’s going through. It’s not something someone should have to deal with alone like I did, just me and the wolves of the desert … it was meeting Puar really that got me through.” Watching the anthropomorphic being flying past the doorway Yamcha opens himself up to his locked away past. The long years of sand and the life of a highwayman – simpler times where all he cared about was getting food to make it through to the next day.

“Sasami be honest with me here, how do you think Trunks is doing?”

“Umm well I don’t know. I think he’s managing because he knows that Vegeta will be wished back by the dragonballs and that he’s gone to a better place.” Yamcha can only hazard a weak attempt at a smile at that last statement, he can’t correct her and break this misconception she has that damnation eternal wasn’t the only thing waiting for him beyond the grave.

“Well less than 30 days and then this nightmare will all be over, give me a shout if either Ryoko or Ayeka come out of their rooms … they look as though they’ve been hit harder than Trunks from it.” Sasami nods at him agreeing to the favour he has asked of her as he stands up and ambles his way out of the kitchen. Pausing to check his bearings in the unfamiliar house he finds his way to the living room – embarrassingly only a few feet down the hallway. A sound stops him on his way to the training chamber.

Creaking open by a sliver, long delicate hands pop around the door and gently push it fully open. Turning around to see who it is Yamcha watches as the figure steps from the shadows of her pocket dimension. His jaw drops as this perfect figure of a woman steps forth in front of him. His eyes start at he feet and work their way up, absorbing every facet of her. Long slender legs that go all the way up balancing a gorgeous hourglass figure.

“Why hey there babe, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure …wait … WASHU! Wh-What?! B-but how, have you been in the hyperbolic time chamber or something?” Alarm bells are ringing in Yamcha’s head, he might have just made a move on her accidently and although it would be a good twist of fortune to steal one of Vegeta’s women from him it would also be incredibly dangerous. Panicking and confused as to why her body is now that of a woman in her prime not some scrawny schoolgirl he looks about for an escape route.

“Teehee, oh stop it you. My you know how to make a girl blush. Well since you asked so politely I guess I can tell you, I can alter my age on a whim but pray tell what is a hyperbolic time chamber?” Giggling from the way he was checking her out she unabashed steps closer to him. Feeling very awkward and uncomfortable when the bandit is usually so confident around those of the opposite sex he doesn’t know where to look with her just there.

“It uh was an interdimensional thingy room on Kami’s lookout which we all trained in before the Cell games. A year in the room is only a day in the real world but unfortunately it was lost in the fight with Majin Buu. I was just about to go and have a look around and test out this wonderful training chamber I’ve heard so much about, you made it didn’t you?” His flattery does not go amiss and she finds it so relieving for someone to actually notice her hard work and not threaten her life.

“Time dilation, wouldn’t that cause accelerated aging though?” Somehow Washu managed to say that without a hint of irony.

“Yep, got an added two years onto myself doing that, but what can you do? Maybe sometime I might start to need some of that age control myself but there’s still life in this old dog yet.” Leaving her now and ending the conversation he walks towards the source of Vegeta’s power, the room in which he uses to push his body to the limits. Two doors close as he enters the training room Washu creeps off back into her laboratory switching on a set of monitors. Flicking through the clutter of background programmes she brings up the feeds from the monitoring equipment.

“Looks like I’ve found myself a nice new guinea pig to play with … well so far looks pretty normal but with the company he keeps I bet he’s got a few surprises up his sleeves.” Mumbling to herself she observes his actions as he investigates this most curious room he has found himself in. Twirling one of the red locks of her hair, her mind analyses every single nuance and motion he makes performing such stupendous calculations as she tries to measure his power and strength to that of his predecessor.

“Heh, I bet with this thing I could overtake Krillin. I don’t know much about stuff like this but I’d have to say Washu’s done a pretty good job … nearly as pretty as herself.” Yamcha obliviously says this not realising that Washu can overhear every single word he says whilst he pumps the 10 tonne weights for a few minutes before his eyes get distracted by the buttons on the main console. 50Gs seems a good starting point for a warm up as he punches in the commands and limbers up stretching his arms and legs before continuing with exercising for another strenuous hour and then another.

The seconds continue to slowly tick by for Washu who believes she now has a 93% accurate estimate of what Yamcha is capable of from his activities. If she had seen strength, speed and stamina the likes of this a fortnight earlier then it would have shocked her but now it’s belittled by the powerhouse that was Vegeta. Still he seems to be outclassing that of the many other warriors she has seen in her years in the final frontiers of space. Swivelling around with her long magenta hair whipping round she goes off to check the progress on one of the hundreds of research projects she has been simultaneously working on.

Rubbing the sheen of sweat dripping from his face on his forearm the wolf warrior has reached his limit and exits the training chamber to rest his exhausted mind and body. Thankfully finding he has the living room to himself he wearily trudges to the sofa before flopping down into its comfortable cushions relieving his feet of his weight. Telekinesis is the lazy man’s greatest tool and with a flick of his hand the T.V bursts into life, the remote flies into his hand and the opening and closing of the fridge door can be heard coming from the kitchen. A cool can of beer gently slides into his second open palm, both hands occupied he opens it with his teeth before chugging down half of its contents in one large gulp.

As the refreshing alcoholic beverage quenches his thirst he begins his quest for a decent channel to watch whilst he relaxes and runs into one of the main problems of being such a high calibre fighter. With reflexes and his mind’s speed honed to such a mind boggling degree he suffers from seeing most things at a slower pace than those of an average Joe, even when not powered up. The constant stream of the screen in front of him becoming just a bunch of images being flashed up one after another not seamlessly blending into motion. Finally something interests him, a sports programme displaying the latest results.

He drains the last dregs of his beer and vaporises the can in his clenching fist. Turning off the T.V in frustration, his baseball team The Taitans have not managed to turn around their long running losing streak and yet again making a mockery of themselves in front of everyone. Vacating his seat with the faint stench of charred metal following him he heads up the stairs to check on Ayeka and Ryoko. Maybe disturbing them is a bad idea, giving them some space and time would seem rational yet with nothing to do in this house with naught but Sasami and two animals for company he takes the risk of proceeding. Stood in-between both of their doors he listens to the all encompassing silence, more haunting then any of the most anguished wails of grief.

Not able to choose which he visits first he decides on the third option, both. He has spent enough time training with his rival Tien to have picked up a few tricks and so a multi-form of Yamcha splits him into two separate beings. Knocking on both doors simultaneously he receives the same echoing response of nothingness, a few minutes drag on and he has long since given up the hope that they will answer his rapping knuckles. Reforming back into a single organism he exhales a long sigh heading back the way he came.

“Spending a month in a house full of beautiful women definitely sounded like my kind of fun. Who knew it could be so much of a hassle and chore and it’s just my luck that as always they have their hearts set on the prince of all Saiyans than Yamcha.” Talking to himself he stirs up the bitter feelings he has always held. The seeds of resentment of how the man responsible for his own death and the loss of so many other lives was the one who stole from him the one most precious to him. He could only stand and watch as his chances for his dream of being a husband were washed down the gutter.

Feeling sorry for himself and in a self loathing kind-of mood he goes back to train, heading over to the control panel he didn’t fully investigate earlier to see a few controls that pique his interest. Intrigued he presses an assortment of buttons labelled under simulation, each button named after something he clearly remembers from the recent past. The machine begins to hum and purr as it warms its cogs and turbines up, the super computers of its core booting up to obey the input commands.

Startled by the room around him fizzing into non existence he hovers in nothingness searching around him for the door leading back into normality that has been replaced by blackness. The world around him begins to fade back but this time it is not what he was expecting, an endless open expanse of water below him stretching on from horizon to horizon. A green ocean of a planet he had never visited has spawned 2 feet below him and it isn’t the only thing his button mashing has, the main console is still next to him floating in mid-air but he wants to see how this will turn out now.

Towering before him is a white devil. Horns, tail and the ability to wipe out planets because he can is Frieza in his second form. A bulk of white and purple staring maliciously down at the ragtag man inspecting what he can only hazard a guess at being a faithful reconstruction – having only seen Mecha-Frieza and King Cold it seems closer to the latter than the tyrannical son. A grin is exchanged as both feel confident before the other as the waters below them boil and froth, forced back away from the power growing and emanating from them in a dazzling light show.

So it begins. After over a decade of waiting Yamcha gets to test his mettle against the dreaded Lord Frieza, well if a little kid could do it so could he. The depths of the ocean open up beneath them as they become blazes of white, flashes of pure light darting this way and that. Fists become meteors tearing through the sky at faces and torsos, kicks slice through the air leaving vacuums in their wake and yet neither opponent has landed a blow past the other’s defences. Block after block and dodge after dodge they continue slogging it out across the miles of open water evaporating in their wake. Yamcha’s building confidence is crushed like his larynx when the flailing tail of the galactic oppressor latches around his throat, rendered defenceless as he struggles to remove the force stopping him from breathing he tastes the force of Frieza first hand.

Pummelling his stomach and midriff area mercilessly Frieza lands innumerable punches into the hardened abs of Yamcha, his muscles may be rock hard but his organs within are still as soft and squishy as when he was born and are not faring as well. Bashed and knocked around his stomach and kidneys rupture inside with a great tearing yielding a howl of agony as the relentless assault continues. The front of his gi has been pulverised into atoms showing the raw wound of his bleeding gut staining his trousers a dark hue. The alien laughs pitifully and manically, delighting in the pain derived from the onslaught.

The tail locked around him won’t budge, every millisecond it stays on him is another one without his precious oxygen. Relinquishing his hold on the caudal appendage he channels his might into an attack that has a higher probability of working then clawing at the thick trunk around his neck. Delivering a high kick to the proud chin wipes the smile clean off the ruler of the known universe, so too does the follow-through Kamehameha he unleashes into the surprised face. The tail quickly withdraws as Frieza grabs at his bleeding face disfigured from the blast, a black horn hanging loosely gives up the ghost and splashes into the tempest waters below.

Not wanting to waste a golden opportunity, with his foe distracted by the unexpected ki blast he returns the favour of the pain bestowed unto him tenfold. Through vision blurred from purple blood flowing into its eyes the despot gets but a glimpse of a shadow, of a rabid wolf pouncing on the frightened rabbit petrified in the spotlights of the burning shards of rubies that are the wolf’s eyes. Inflamed with the fury of retribution, Yamcha exacts his payback with the longest and most complex Wolf Fang Fist he has ever attempted, each blow more reckless and savage than the last. Punches designed to maim and snap bone crash into the thick white chest plates of Frieza cracking the purple segment embedded in the natural armour. More and more vindictive strikes rain down until purple mars most of the previously pristine white plated skin of Frieza.

Slamming the open jaws of the wolf into the stomach of the ruler brings him to his knees and Yamcha dashes backwards to recuperate from the tiring attack. Staggered, stunned and angry at being injured by such a scruffy, low life wretch Frieza growls. Composure frayed from such an affront to his title as most powerful being Frieza quick draws his hand flashing out a barrage of dozens of death beams at Yamcha’s position. Ricocheting them back with his palm except one, that last one was just too much for him to bear. It broke through the ki he had channelled into his hands and struck its mark true. Holding his arms out extended to deflect the fatal lasers only worsens the fact that one of the penetrating beams hit. Boring through the base of his palm and burrowing all the way through his forearm and upper arm before bursting through his incinerated shoulder blade.

Yamcha’s vision dances in front of him as he fights off shock, a smoking hole scorched through his whole right arm. A feeble attempt to move his incapacitated limb nearly pushes him into unconsciousness, the wound having hardened on the inside into a solid cauterised tunnel uncompromising in its rigid state. The three points of articulation rendered useless like the whole limb he squints through the pain as Frieza still recovering from his earlier attack flies up higher and higher into the sky till the monster is a mote against the blue sky.

“You filthy swine! You dare to attack Lord Frieza! I will end you, now time to die!” Frieza summons forth a black and maroon crackling orb of terrible power above his head and one remaining spiked horn.

“Oh yeah! Well two can play at that game. Take this, Spirit ball!” Pitching aloft the curveball in an arcing motion he has practised for many years just in his right not left arm which he is now forced to use instead. Focusing his will into the ki attack he has rarely had the opportunity to use, it tears straight on an intercept course for the planet destroyer rushing towards him. The concussive force as the two globes meet in the sky clears the whole stadium of water, the sea thrown into droplets glistening as the duo of new stars rage to push the other back. The tussle between blasts is not going in Yamcha’s favour but he never planned on winning this by force alone, he has a plan.

Losing ground the spirit ball is being engulfed slowly by the larger more powerful ball of ki, he cannot hold his own against Frieza in this aspect. Cackles of assured victory drift on the gusting winds from the white lord proving to Yamcha only that his foe is assured enough that he is no longer paying full attention to the battle. With that the Z warrior takes the initiative and utilises the main feature of his technique that differs it from most others.

Spiralling off to the side Yamcha waves his left hand sharply to the right and then upwards directing his Spirit ball out of the path of the fireball and into open air. Swerving out of the way of the incoming attack moving in a linear motion, his Spirit ball rockets straight for Frieza in a zigzagging response corresponding to Yamcha’s gesticulating fingers. Flying straight and true in the final sprint the baron of barbarity’s eyes widen as he notices that overconfidence is a crippling weakness and that energy balls may be closer than they appear. Mercilessly Yamcha remotely controls his sui generis past all of the fancy footwork and aerial manoeuvres his foe tries to pull off and in for the kill.

The orb zips to and fro with each pass clobbering into Frieza’s back, chest, shoulders and forehead detonating with every impact. Angling away for a final descent the Spirit ball propels itself unto the enemy it has finished toying with, careening into Lord Frieza’s ugly mug with the force to pound his highness in a straight cast route into the depths of the high seas. Tsunami sized waves fill up the gaping hole left by Frieza, swallowing him into the deep blue as serenity returns to the ocean. Beads of the fine mist of water drift back down as Yamcha hovers panting, drooping lower and closer to the swell placating back down to a millpond.

Grunting as smoke simmers from the passage running from hand to shoulder Yamcha growls through clenched teeth as he cracks the cauterised inside of his arm. Curling his bicep towards him he watches blood freely gush from his stigmata and trickle down his near hollow arm. Spilling into the waters beneath him his blood leaves a trail of vivid red pooling behind his progress towards the main console. His progress hampered by the large amount of energy drained from him in such a close fight he senses a disturbance and doubles his pace towards the console.

Bubbles rise in great columns turning the ocean once again into a seething mass, flashes of light illuminating a shape in the deep. Yamcha’s ki sensing abilities tell him that he hasn’t seen the last of Frieza and that his power is growing at a rate which surpasses any which the bandit could ever hope to overcome. Dashing the last few feet he turns to see a long, elongated, xenomorphic head break the surface, rotating to face the one trying to escape. A pair of glimmering beams shoot from the dark eyes bursting out of the waves in the direction of Yamcha who’s hand is now slamming down hard on the large red button marked OFF.

“Ok, I think I’m done here.” Turning he watches the lasers dissipate along with Frieza as metal walls and flooring replace the boundless arena, a doorway to the outside world beckons to him. Tearing two strips from the hem of his gi he wraps a very crude bandage around his openly bleeding wounds, the pressure biting into his flesh but ceasing the flow of crimson oozing out. Testing out his damaged limb causing great aggravation within he migrates out of the chamber. Emptiness greets him.

Drips sprinkle the floor following Yamcha, a mixture of both blood, sweat but no tears pursuing his path up the creaking stairs to his temporary room. Along the mute corridor he walks, each step taking more effort then the last. Dragging his feet as he pushes the door open the last dregs of energy spatter onto the floor, his body worn out, his knees turn to jelly and fail at supporting his torso. Tumbling into a face plant his thick skull cracks the floorboards. Passed out on the floor with not a living soul in earshot to hear his fall and no-one to care about him or his well being, darkness takes him.

A feathery pillow beneath his head, snuggly blankets tucked around him and fresh dressing around his treated cavity, Yamcha wakes with a pomegranate hair fluttering down onto his face tickling his nose. Twitching his nose side to side to remove the irritant he resorts to wafting at it with his hand, his right hand. Realising too late he expects bolts of pain to torture him but nothing comes, in the space of the anti-climax he looks at his palm to see freshly knitted flesh not a scorched pit. Siting up Yamcha pushes the blanket off of him and springs to his feet trying to work out how he ended up on the bed when he can clearly see the dent from where he passed out marking the wood. Flexing each finger of his healed hand then the wrist he grins at the miraculous recovery wondering if maybe Vegeta had a stock of Senzu beans around the house someone fed him. The how doesn’t concern him as he stoops to pick up the lone hair from the floor where it drifted down to.

Inspecting it he sniffs the follicle recognising the scent of the owner, nodding to himself he lets it fall and with newfound energy goes for his most prized possession. The whetted blade of his Liuyedao, a weapon he has had with him since his first chance meeting with Goku. Unsheathing to meet the shining silver he runs its edge against his arm in the age old test to find that years of not seeing daylight have left it blunt and unable to leave a mark on his coarse hairs. Not having any tools or grindstone the improviser opens the wide window and jumps out of the house, bending his knees into a roll to perfectly land his graceful descent. Rapping the hilt against the floor as he walks to the water’s edge looking for a good shaped stone. A large flat flint catches his eyes as he picks it out of the lake and grips his sword firmly before setting to work.

Stoning complete with a single pass of the whetstone on each side of the blade he launches the whittled down rock, skimming it the full length of the entire lake in a dozen bounces off of the water’s surface. With a swipe of his sword a branch falls out of a tree, a branch 500 metres away followed by many others unlucky enough to be caught in the path of the random slash. Swordsmanship was always second to him after bare fist fighting and his skills in it have diminished further with it being such an impracticality now with the Liuyedao not being able to hold up if he used his full strength, in a fight it would shatter into fragments in the first cleaving motion he made. Passing the time he hones his long lost abilities in the art of swordplay for fun and to while away the hours as there’s nothing better to do in this wilderness retreat.

His activities outside continue well into the afternoon; stabbing, cutting, slicing and parrying he stands alone as he has gotten used to. Sasami did ask whether he wanted any food but he declined not wanting to interrupt his fencing for his metabolism doesn’t require the mountain of food that Vegeta’s does. Shadows start to lengthen and the one under his aegis returns touching down from his day at school. Trunks doesn’t look at Yamcha, he simply slings the bag off of his shoulders and drags it into the house he is quickly disappearing into.

“Yo, Trunks!” Yamcha again attempts in vain to grasp the son that could have been his’ attention. The bitter mood of Trunks’ melancholy leaves him in no mood for this ragamuffin as his step doesn’t falter in advance through the threshold.

“Hey come on Trunks. I bet you’ve never had a proper swordfight with anyone before. You bring down your sword and we can play, how’s that sound eh? A bit of sparring with Yamcha?”

“… Why? … Why would I want to do that? Give me one reason why? My father’s right about you, you’re weak and the weak aren’t worth anybody’s time. I surpassed you when I was still wearing nappies so what’s the point in training with you?” A response is elicited from Trunks. Not what Yamcha was hoping for, taking offense at the sad but true words reminding him of his place, but it’s progress. With Trunks talking and stopped in the doorway Yamcha tries to coax more out of the grieving child.

“Well what have you got to lose then? If you’re so sure you’re going to win then bring it … or are you chicken?” Several swear words would have followed this challenge if Yamcha had the time to speak but in the time it takes for the instantly enraged Trunks to take up the gauntlet and charge him his mouth simply hangs. Not ready at all for this and completely unprepared for a battle against a Saiyan, Yamcha’s sword is swept from his arm and it is all he can do to try and block the worst of the angry attacks befalling him. Disarmed and badly beaten and bruised he is knocked to the ground again and again. Time after time after time he gets back up not surrendering to the child he should be in control of, all it gets him though is another walloping. Struggling to his feet weakly, Yamcha looks into the cold eyes of the youth stood over him and a sense of foreboding washes over him when he sees the hue of the eyes begin to change.

Anchored in place he is ready to accept defeat as lavender hair turns blonde. Blue eyes staring straight through him, uncaring who he is just that he is there to act as an outlet for all the accumulated emotion built up in the small young body. The earth beneath the grass cracking with each step of his tiny feet. A diminutive fist raises above the stood-on-end hair, a killing blow ready to put down the old dog. At its peak height the clenched hand stops before it falls and stays there.

The only other two humanoids up and about bar Trunks and the defeated man stand fast and firm, blocking Trunks from his victim. Having rushed out of the house as soon as they saw the two begin to duke it out they have arrived just in the knick of time to prevent a second travesty from striking the household. The fight broken up, the juvenile stands there fist still in the air, just staring blankly in the direction of the downed man not seeing him or what could have come to pass. Purple hair falls down around his ears as he turns to continue on his way back into the house forgetting about his little encounter. Sasami follows the powered down other of her age whilst Washu looks down at the battered bandit.

“Quite a sorry state you’ve gotten yourself into, tsk-tsk, what am I to do with you?” Washu offers her fair hand to help up Yamcha who’s meaty hands look grotesque next to her manicured fingers. Gripping tightly she aids him up to his feet, wobbling and staggering she begins to lead him back inside. His heavy weight leaning on her for support bothering her and pulling her down.

“You Ok? I’ve got medical equipment and supplies in my lab so let’s go and get you patched up-”

“Like earlier? … D-don’t think” – cough- “don’t think I didn’t know it was you. Back to your place then?” A wry smile playing across his bleeding and bruised face below his swollen eyes and broken nose. She stops and looks at him playfully.

“Of course I knew you knew that it was me, what kind of genius would I be if I didn’t? Thought you would have learnt your lesson though, twice in one day, I bet you only got in that fight so you could spend some more time with me didn’t you?” They smile at each other as they walk through the doorway into her own private dimension. This being the first time Yamcha has seen the inside of this not so much a room more a world he struggles to comprehend his surroundings through squinted eyes and a possible concussion. Gawping as he looks around this place of technological wonder, seeing such unimaginable marvels on his short tour towards her high tech surgery room.

Arriving at their destination she props Yamcha up against one of her desks as she busies herself setting up the room; flicking on monitors, gathering equipment, turning on machines and pressing a button that rotates one of the large vertical slabs in the middle of the room around its central axis so it lays horizontally at waist level. Directing him towards it he anxiously looks at the bulky rings of an unknown metal that apparently is where he has to place his limbs and head. Carefully easing himself down onto the slab he shuffles his limbs into the correct position still eyeing the restraints by his neck uneasily as Washu sets to work repairing his punished body once again. Meticulously tinkering and healing each contusion and laceration, setting and fusing broken bones and regenerating damaged tissue the scientist deals with her patient quickly and in under a minute he’s as good as new.

“Now if you’d just like to stay there for a few more minutes I’d like to run some harmless routine tests on you, you’re the first human I’ve had a chance to experi- study.” Grinning she gives him no time to argue as she attaches electrodes and multitudes of other probes and measuring devices to his exposed skin.

“Uh Ok? Umm what kind of tests?”

“Oh nothing special so stop worrying: basic biomedical profiling, brain mapping, interdimensional energy mapping, blood analysis and of course I’ll be comparing all of these results with those I gathered from Vegeta. You don’t mind if I use you to compare differences between that of your species and Saiyans?”

“Oh great I’ve always wanted someone to prove beyond any doubt how much stronger and better he is than me”

“Lighten up, you’re still the best specimen of your species for my research. You are in the top elite when it comes to raw power and don’t have any mutations like a third eye or anything to skew my results. Why so serious all of a sudden? Whilst I splice these DNA samples tell me how you got those scars, none of my databanks have any information on them.” Yamcha frowns confused at the mention of her already having a large collection of data around his person and mulls it over in his mind. He has only told one other person the origin of these things disfiguring his face but he can’t see the harm in opening up to her, it’s no great secret.

“Promise you won’t laugh, I didn’t get these from any heroic battle or massive fight. I … I… well you see, you know Puar … well he really hates it when you try and give him a bath. As you can see it didn’t go too well for me and after that I left him to manage his own personal hygiene.” Serious and deadpan he relates to her the tale that he normally litters with lies of bravado when picking up girls but she hears the truth. She hears the truth and bursts into a guffaw of giggles betraying her promise not to laugh to him though he knew this was going to happen for the exact same thing happened when he revealed the story of his face to Bulma. He raises an eyebrow and questions her for a change, she is learning everything about him so it only seems fair.

“Yeah you laugh it up at least its good to see someone here smiling except Sasami. Now I suppose you know why I never tell anyone stuff about my past, just because I’m a warrior doesn’t mean every single aspect of my life will be sung from atop high walls y’know. Just why aren’t you moping around like Ryoko and Ayeka though? On the day you seemed pretty downbeat and I didn’t see you at all yesterday so what’s the deal?”

“I might be a scientist but I still have a heart, of course I was upset that he died, he didn’t deserve that and I didn’t get to finish collating data on his anatomy. More importantly though unlike those miserable saps I don’t see the light shining out of his derriere, he’s just another challenging test subject. A month without him, that time will blink past in an instant. Compared to how long I’ve lived that’s next to nothing.”

“I’m not gonna fall for that trap, I have a bit of experience under my belt and I know full well never to ask a beautiful young lady her age.”

“Young? Ha you truly have no idea do you, I suppose with a body like this you would never know that in terms of your Earth years I have passed well over my 20,000th year. ” She savours the look on his face. The sheer shock of such an astoundingly high number being her true age, she makes Roshi look like a new-born tot – surpassing all of Earth’s recorded history with a twenty millennia past. Holding a scalpel in one hand she leans in close over the incredulous prone figure at her mercy.

“T-T-twenty thousand?! Wow that’s a lo-” The cutting instrument lowers till it is pressed against his chest, glinting in the dim lighting maliciously. A bead of sweat forms and rolls down Yamcha’s cheek as he stops what he is saying.

“W-what I, uh, really meant to say was … t-that you look very good, no extremely beautiful for a woman of your age. Wait! No, nonono I-I didn’t mean it like that just … in general you are good looking, I mean I thought you were young enough to be my daughter or something y’know.” Washu’s eyes soften and she smiles at him as if she were only messing around. Standing back up she walks towards another of her desks full of equipment hidden from Yamcha’s obscured view who is currently counting his blessings and not paying attention to what she is doing. Snap! She stretches on the latex gloves and releases them so they spring back against her flesh making a loud sound.

“ I have one teensy little favour to ask of you. You see there was one sample that I couldn’t obtain from Vegeta and I was just wondering if you’d help me out in that respect.” Puzzled he slowly nods at her not too sure what he’s getting himself into now.

“Well sure Ok I’ll help ya. What is it that you need me to do?”

“Oh nothing, just stay still and leave the rest to me … I’m the one qualified to perform this, hehe” Her emerald eyes gleaming as they dart across his body and then to a control panel materialising out of the ether, grinning wickedly she presses the lone button as an inanimate object springs to life. The restraints hanging loosely around Yamcha’s prone form begin to shrink and stiffen causing a visage of abject horror to play across his face. Laughing manically at her cunningly laid trap springing into action she wrings her hands together, flexing her magic fingers as she cackles at the ceiling like the true mad scientist she is.

“Hahahahahaha, you’re all mine now and there isn’t anything you can …. Where the hell did you go?!” Returning her gaze to the now empty obsidian slab alarm bells ring in her head, yet another has escaped from her fool proof shackles. She only took her eyes off of him for a split second and the restraints are still there and in one piece so …

“Hey what do you think you’re playing at. The hell is with the bondage all of a sudden.” He is stood right behind her, his reflexes saving him as he is now fully healed she is cursing the way that she gave him the means to escape. Slowly turning around she meekly looks at him, the smile gone from her face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t do that, can’t we just pretend this never happened?”

“How about no? Why were you trying to restrain me? I gave you my consent to get this sample you wanted so you could have just taken it. Go ahead get it over and done with, retrieve this sample of yours.” Hounding her and not dropping the subject her cheeks begin to blush and her eyes drop to her ruby coloured shoes.

“Umm well I was after a very … particular sample and I thought you might refuse so I thought that what I did would be the best way to be certain I got it.”

“Hell I don’t care what the sample is. Come on is it blood, hair, skin … memories? I won’t put up a fight over it, I gave you my word so spit it out already.” Pestering her with further questions her skin turns a deeper shade than her hair as she timidly shakes her head trying to raise her eyes to look him in the face.

“No it’s none of those things. It’s …i-it’s a sperm sample I was trying to collect.” She looks him in the eye deeply embarrassed and feeling very uncomfortable. Shifting under his gaze he doesn’t break eye contact or bat an eyelid at what she says, just folds his arms.

“I’ve given samples like that before but never have I been forcibly tied down for it. I don’t want to know if that’s how they did it on your planet but things are different here, I’ll be checking back later. See ya.” Vanishing from sight he disappears from Washu’s realm leaving her still stood there. Disappointed by the turn of events she slumps her shoulders and trudges off to clear away what she had gotten out in preparation.

The onset of dusk encroaches on the land, plummeting the household into the limbo state of twilight before falling into the black of night. Not a sound can be heard, Sasami has gone to sleep as it is approaching her bed time. Ayeka barely noticed her sister entering the room, the pleas of her sister to move away from the window she has been staring out of all day fall on deaf ears. From her viewpoint the princess can see Ryo-uh her ship beside the lake, it is gathering moss now but all that is hidden from her now it is night-time and the world is shadow. Her hairs hangs unadorned and loose, her royal head crest laying abandoned by her bedside cabinet and a simple black kimono reflects her mood. An unblinking stare devoid of happiness or joy, her heart a Pandora’s box of joylessness for amidst all the despair and dejection lies a faint sparkle of hope. That one hope that death for him is not permanent and that all she has to do is wait and wait for him she shall.

Ryoko’s mood hasn’t lifted either despite her best efforts to drown them away, drinking herself into a stupor by consuming every last drop of alcohol she bought with his money. No joy is to be found by her at the bottom of any of the many empty bottles scattered haphazardly across her room. The effects of the drinks is nothing to her, she can purify the toxins within her bloodstream with a thought, trying to reach a cold oblivion of numbness she fails as every time she hears his last words echoing in her mind. Why couldn’t he hang on for just a little bit longer, not knowing the last word is torturing her as is the guilt she has settled upon her shoulders. Ryoko blames herself for his death, her actions caused him to act rashly and led to Grah pinning him down. But then Vegeta thanked her for it. Awash with confliction she balances on the brink of madness, holding on desperately for his return to her open arms.

Walking down the hallway from the room of the one that Ryoko and Ayeka’s hearts painfully yearn for Yamcha carries a small sealed opaque container. Jogging down the stairs with the item clutched in his hands he knocks on Washu’s door tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for it to swing open of its own accord allowing him to enter her domain. Glancing around as he steps inside for the fair maiden of intellect he spots her in a far off corner with her fingers whizzing over multiple keyboards. Traversing the distance at a speed which negates travel time he patiently waits behind Washu for her to finish what she is typing. Rotating round in her chair to face the vagabond she is startled when a small object bounces onto her lap. Curious she picks up the jar and holds it up to her face inspecting it, shaking it gently she hears a faint sloshing sound coming from inside which only exaggerates her inquisitiveness.

“What have you brought me ? Is it a gift of some sort?” Washu is still trying to deduce the contents of the container based on the audio clues from the sound it makes when agitated and is about to resort to opening the lid when Yamcha speaks up.

“It’s what you asked for earlier, you know the sample of my-”

“What?! You are actually freely giving this to me just like that?” Her hand has frozen in place on top of the lid not wanting to open it now she has knowledge on its contents, her face reddening by the slapdash and carefree way in which he handed this ‘gift’ to her. Hesitantly placing the jar down on a nearby workbench she turns to see Yamcha turned around and back on his way out again.

“Wait Yamcha!” She calls out to him and rushes off of her hovering cushion towards him before he can disappear. He stops when he hears her shout his name and looks back to find her stood beside him holding her hands behind her back.

“Where do you think you’re off to, I- I’ve got one little experiment I’d like to try out now.” Washu smiles slightly as she sees the confusion rise up in his eyes again.

“Experiment? What kind ‘cos it’s getting late and I just gave you the-” She embraces him and kisses him gently on the lips stopping him speaking. He looks down at her, a look of timid hope on her face and smiles before returning the favour as they sink into one another with Washu getting a conclusive positive result from her experiment.

As Yamcha and Washu cure each others loneliness something else occurs at the exact same time. A white booted man in a blue sleeveless jumpsuit stands with his arms crossed impatiently waiting in this oversized reception. Streams of fire and desecration litter the long walkway leading up to the check-in station and a mountainous red ogre looks disapprovingly at the man stood before him. King Yemma proceeds to begin the judgement of Vegeta’s soul.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up her like that, this isn’t the check-in station for your place of death and … well you certainly made an entrance. It’s as if you want to be punished, you’re only making it worse for yourself.” The thundering tones of the bearded judge boom out, his normal routine of intimidation having no effect on the deceased Saiyan.

“Shut up fool, your threats are meaningless. How is it possibly to have a fate worse than eternal damnation in hell? Now before I do to you as I did to all those pathetic souls outside tell me the way to where Bulma is.” Raising an outstretched palm emanating a brilliant yellow light of pent up energy he shows these aren’t idle threats.

“You killed millions of innocent souls on the way here, blasted your way to the front of the queue, threaten my life and expect me to help you find paradise? Be off with you, I don’t need to show you the way to the infernal realm.” Yemma’s answer greatly displeases Vegeta, a harsh snarl escaping from his clenched teeth as the ball of energy in his grasp grows in time with his anger.

“I will not be so close and have this taken from me, let me see her NOW! Pray to your impotent managers you see sense or I’ll tear this whole afterlife to pieces.”

“Goodbye Vegeta, I had hoped you would change but you are too set in your ways. I condemn you to hell.” Yemma slams down his hammer sentencing Vegeta. Enraged beyond belief the prince releases the blast only to have it dissipate in the air. Like a wisp of smoke his hands and arms begin to vanish before his eyes, eyes that join the rest of his body taken from him. Left as a soul, blind and deaf to all, he is sent unto his fate. The pain of a thousand sons without fathers, parents forced to bury their own children, lovers separated by death all their hurt caused by his actions finally has its retribution as he languishes in the Stygian abyss alone. The torture of his very soul begins.

“Do I have to do everything myself around here?” His patience tested to the limit by his son failing him in such a paltry task assigned to him Vegeta slowly begins to walk towards the group of 5, away from Goku. Halfway there the last of the savages bursts through solid rock, not two feet from Ayeka. He doesn’t miss a stride, having expected and predicted this he carries on his way whilst his son and the son of Goku only now realise their grave mistake in presuming all had been dealt with.

Ryoko summons her blade of orange energy and charges bringing it down hard on the shoulder of the beast before somersaulting backwards and blasting it from the air. One of its arms seems to be unable to move now and dislocated from whatever kind of shoulder it has, otherwise her assault on it is fruitless. Eyes as green as jade fix on the princess quickly summoning her shield as it springs forth; its one working arm stretching wide, its ravenous maw opening and all in a split second it is over.

Tail grabbed, all movement stopped and splattered into a fine haze as its body detonates on impact with the ground. Vegeta stands looking disapprovingly at Trunks who is still fiddling with his sword that has managed to get stuck in its leather sheathe due to the adhesive blood of the animals encrusting its blade.

“Kakarot there is no sport to be had here, not with these things whatever they are. I say we blow this planet to pieces from orbit and take up our fight again.” Disinterested Vegeta turns from the women who now owe him their lives. Ayeka looking at him in adulation as she savours the moment the brave prince saved the princess from the monster just like in all the ballads and bard’s tales she heard on Jurai in her youth.

“Come on Vegeta, you know as well as I do that this isn’t over yet. We might have defeated all of these multiforms but somehow I can still sense that same single tremendous power I felt when we first came here.”

“Hmm, you’re right there Kakarot. The damned thing’s been toying with us, testing us to see our strengths and weaknesses. Maybe there might be some fun to be had here after all.” Wiping the fine dust of what was left of the creature that made an attempt on Ayeka’s life off of his white gloves Vegeta surveys the few, the brave and the strong returning back towards him and Goku. The ward of Ryoko and Ayeka steps forward, feeling a bit uneasy from the carnage he witnessed being a Namekian of peace not war. Dende extends his powers to those who participated in the battle, rejuvenating the very minimal amount of energy lost in the skirmish and healing the few minor scratches sustained by Roshi.

“Hey you two, you don’t happen to know where Mr. Popo and Majin Buu are do you?” He doesn’t need the additional eye he has to make this observation, Tien seems to be not the only one who has noticed the apparent disappearance of the two portly companions of the party. Alerted to the fact that the caretaker of his gardens is missing in action seems to make Dende alert and apprehensive, eyes darting about and scanning for a sign of the black genie he has grown to depend on.

“They both seem to be nearby and in the same position. The fight must have dragged them further afield, never seen Popo fight must have been quite something.” Piccolo reassures the other member of his race who has taken residency on Earth, thinking back on Kami’s memories of the perpetual watcher from the lookout who’s memories are now his since they re-joined bodies to become one Namekian.

CRASH! Two large objects strike the ground at Gohan’s feet. Inside the first crater is the one who Dende was fretting over, crumpled in a heap unconscious. Buu is splattered all over the second crater. His form not being as solid as that of the others, more amorphous, soon begins to wriggle as each separate piece and pool of him flows into one mass before reforming into his preferred shape.

“What the hell is that thing?” Gohan helps Mr. Popo out of the ground and places him carefully beside him as he sees the figure just stood there. Ryoko and Ayeka are petrified looking at this thing, pure malevolence dripping from it. No compassion and no soul, it scans those who have come to challenge it and killed its spawn. Being well over 10 feet tall it dwarfs those expendable sprog it sent against them, its musculature rippling and expansive over its great limbs nearly bursting through the inch think armour plating of its bark.

“I believe that is the foe we came to face, the foe who’s head shall be mounted on my wall.” Not turning his head the Prince of all Saiyans is the only one not looking at the great monstrosity as it stretches to its full height, tails cutting through the air and the abyss of its snout unhinging.

“GRRRRAAAAAEEEURGHHHG!” The booming roar rips through its alien throat as green light pulses outwards through its thickened hide turning the very air around it into searing plasma before it bursts through it. Pounding across the distance on all fours, the massive bulk builds up great speed and will soon be upon them.

“This is a job for Saiyan’s, you weaklings stay out of our way.” Vegeta steps forward, quickly followed by Goku and Gohan. A flash of light later and Gotenks stands beside his other Saiyan brethren prepared for the juggernaut tearing towards them. They exchange a very slight nod between each other as the four extraordinary beings stand their ground bracing their legs as ‘Grah’ is almost upon them. His ravenous mouth glistening like the deadest night, its eyes showing predatory greed lusting for the taste of their tender flesh.

“KAaaaa …” Goku’s hands dart to his side as he charges the first ki attack he ever learnt.

“MEEeeee. ..” Gohan follows his father’s example as blue light bursts into existence in his palms.

“HAAaaaa …” The fusion warrior child already has a colossal amount of energy charged up for the attack and still Gotenks draws on more staring at the talons of the beast.

“MEEeeee …” For the first time ever the Saiyan not related to Goku through blood joins him for the turtle wave, showing the low class warrior how to properly use this attack.

“HAAAAAA!” As one all four release their Kamehamehas point blank at the tank-like chest of the ravenous alien. An azure sun lights the arena as it is engulfed in a bright blaze of dazzling energy, all four blasts converging and conjoining hitting it dead centre.

The blast has barely struck it before it lunges out of the explosion like a shadow and hovers high in the night sky, it’s dark exterior being the perfect camouflage save for its verdant luminescence. Having leaped clean out of the way of the Kamehameha taking only a slight burn to one of its scales it watches as the unified wave of energy tears across the landscape before shooting off high into space. The planet loses on of its satellites in that instant. The full force of the Kamehameha’s brought unto it, a small reddish moon becomes naught but cinders drifting in the vacuum of space.

With the dust on the ground still clearing from their attack the four Saiyans look up at their enemy as they motion for the others to retreat and find cover knowing what the next move of the brute will be. Hailing down lightning bolts ‘Grah’ smites the four below him with the very rudimentary and primitive ki blasts that it can conjure from all four of its skull crushing paws. Fire and brimstone meteors crash into the erect barrier of Vegeta. Bouncing and ricocheting off it like harmless pebbles they continue on their altered trajectory blasting away the rock and ground encompassing the tetrad of omnipotent Saiyans. Apparently the women that have barged into his life might be of some use with the barrier technique of Jurai holding strong against all these ravaging blasts. Taking the brunt of it all and draining a miniscule amount of energy to cast.

Naught but a smouldering hole is left beneath them, the shield protecting them but not blocking out gravity so as the rock beneath them disintegrated and was taken by flame so too were they forced to fly. Hands glowing from the heat of its blasts the beast levitates in the air still, its animalistic mind still trying to work out these most mysterious creatures that have wandered into its territory. Unprepared for aggression against it, it is surprised when the shield coalesces and shoots towards Grah and instinct kicks in as its sickle clawed foot kicks and deflects the energy attack into the stars above.

A Frisbee of death, a guided infernal ball and two beams split the sky as Piccolo, Tien, Yamcha and Krillin charge forward to blindside the enemy who’s sole focus was on the Saiyans. Their improvised ambush worked better than the trap laid by the hell spawn in the air but still they are left looking at their most powerful techniques hitting it square in the back and it hardly flinching. One lone spine is loosened from its back and falls off of the creature’s otherwise intact carapace. The faint thud of its carbonised spine hitting the singed earth snaps something within the creature’s mind. It has been injured, it has been hurt and for the first time in its life it has felt pain … and does not like it.

Three humans and a Namekian seem to regret drawing the attention of Grah and evoking its wrath. Hissing, its elongated head turns to look at those who dare attack it with its teeth bared. Blood turning to ice under its dreadful stare, the Z warriors born on Earth slowly start to back away not taking their eyes off of the airborne menace. As soon as its body begins to move towards its frozen prey a foot slams into its jaw sending it spiralling down to the boulders below.

Acting to protect his friends from when he was a toddler, Gohan’s sturdy leg is firmly outstretched, his poise perfect. In the blink of an eye a talon lashes at his face, having recovered before it hit the ground Grah has rebounded back to take vengeance. Saved by the motion he saw out of the corner of his eye the razor fails to bisect his head yet draws blood all the same. Still recoiling from the speed of the attack Gohan clutches his face with one arm whilst he quickly descends and lands by his father and brother. Dende acts immediately and heals the curved slash marring Gohan’s face from his little hidey-hole leaving him with a smooth scar starting from his forehead and curving around the left side of his face and terminating at his chin.

Slowly Grah descends too, its blood starting to yearn for that of a true challenge in the field of battle like that of Saiyans. Snarling and licking its jagged fangs the exterminator of all this planet’s life lands on all fours in the middle of all four Saiyans. Such a powerful beast but a mere metre from them, its arms capable of easily lashing out at them. The Saiyans just stand and watch their foe. A maelstrom of sparks and lightning fly from the four as they all ascend to super Saiyan 2 form, their brilliance illuminating the dark and dreary landscape and their blue eyes coldly looking at the green eyes of the monster.

Although an intelligent sentient being, Grah is still a very young mutant beast and like all animals acts violently when both startled and surrounded. SMACK! An elephantine shin appears cracking Goku in the back of the head with enough force that it was a miracle that decapitation did not occur. The lights in his eyes dim and his hair darkens as the hero of so many battles crumples to the floor. Grah’s hulking form moving with such agility that no-one was prepared for such a savage attack, the pure shock that Goku has been taken down in a single blow is still slowly seeping into their skulls as it charges them.

Flabbergasted by the ease in which their father was taken down so easily in his super Saiyan form, Gohan and Gotenks meet the charge of Grah and begin hand to hand combat with it. Whilst their fists fly and meet the bone like defence as the barbarous monstrosity blocks every one of their moves against it, its bestial mind slowly analysing their moves and fighting style with its four optical orbs. Walking past the raging battle and sidestepping the wildly swinging barbed tails of Grah, Vegeta kneels by his fallen brother in arms looking at the sorry state he’s in.

“I expected more from you Kakarot, if that’s all I had to do to defeat you then you would have died years ago … why did you not dodge it you fool. Looks like this is one fight you’ll just have to miss then.” Vegeta stands up with Goku’s prone form over his shoulder looking on at the way in which Gotenks is fighting, wondering if what he is seeing reflects his son’s true power or not. Vegeta vanishes.

Grah has no fear, no notion of what the concept of this emotion is but even if it did the feeling would not be troubling it at all. Struggle as they will to get through its speed and defences, neither Gohan or Gotenks appear to be posing any real threat to it. Any hit they land is by pure chance and damages their hands on the rough exoskeleton more than the beast. Flailing tails whip past both of their heads drawing their attention as it sends out a wall of ki to both of them, repulsing them down to the ground. Whirlwinds of shimmering gold gust around both Saiyans, charging up to their maximum power before continuing this fight any further. Squinting its beady eyes from such blinding light Grah is taken unaware from the next combo of blows that hit it from super Saiyan 3 Gotenks.

Over a million miles away Goku’s body falls like a ragdoll onto the floorboards, deposited there by Vegeta to make sure his rival won’t go and get himself killed by the battle -for that is a pleasure only he will partake in. Job done he Instant Transmissions back to Grah’s planet to re-join the fight. His vanishing form still fading from the house as Chichi rushes to her collapsed husband scared to death she might lose him yet again.

Two versus one and for that Grah has lost the upper hand. Even using his tails and jaws the duo still outmatch him, their speed on par with his but one advantage they have that which Grah could never hope to replicate; experience. Savage claws rip at the air and kicks designed to eviscerate hapless foes are its specialty yet for all this Grah is in its first battle against things that can match it in terms of power and speed. In a trial by fire Grah learns which attacks leave it open, the strengths of its opponents and its own limitations but at the cost of a few more cracked and dented scales. Dicing with death Gotenks’ overconfidence nearly ends him on several occasions, dancing away from the attacks flying at him only at the last possible second. Grah is outmatched and being beaten back, injured but most importantly enraged.

Krillin and the rest can only be spectators to the match taking place above their heads, none of them capable of aiding the effort but more likely hindering the half blood Saiyans if they tried. Eyes barely able to follow the fast flying limbs of the trio locked in a fight to the death. Vegeta has no thoughts of joining Goku’s sprogs, when he fights he fights alone, the only thing left to him is to wait for Grah to best them so his turn can come around. Until then he might as well make himself useful so evacuating the useless plebs staring slack jawed at a level of fighting none of them could ever dream to achieve seems a good a place to start as any.

“You’ve had your fun so come now, time for you lot to leave before I have to scrape bits of you off the floor.” They don’t need to be told twice and hurry towards the only man capable of getting them away from certain doom, all but two. Android 17 stops halfway to Vegeta and points into the sky behind him yelling a warning of dire urgency.

Grah has knocked back both of his opponents and in the time it took for them to recover it has rocketed off away from them to finish off the easier prey it noticed earlier and never paid back for the hurt caused to it. Blackened claws glisten in the starlight, their keen edges hungry for man flesh and the ever ravenous eyes of Grah lock onto its chosen victim. Unluckily for Grah it chose Vegeta as its starting point, a mistake it won’t make again.

Four flashes of light hit Grah as it crashes down into the ground face first, smashing through the rock and eating dirt it lets out a tremendous thundering bellow. Each of its four limbs are locked in place, rings of yellow ki encircling its chunky wrists and shackling it to the very earth it is laid immobilised on. All of the momentum of the beast stopped at the feet of Vegeta. Never missing an opportunity to humiliate his foes he delivers a swift boot to Grah’s face knocking out a few knife like teeth before beckoning for the others to hurry to him.

“Look you two, now is not the time for this! Come to me at once! … Fine have it your way then, see if I care.” Ryoko and Ayeka don’t budge towards him, their minds set to stay with him to whatever end whether he wants them there by his side or not. Vegeta snarls at their stubbornness and is gone taking with him the outclassed warriors. Drop off complete he doesn’t stay on Earth any longer than it takes to break physical contact with those he brought with him in transit and returns to war.

Grah’s constraints though powerful suffer from a fatal flaw that Vegeta has never managed to work out and that being they are as strong as their weakest link, that being the gritty floor they are bolted to. A faint trickle of orange sap spills from the monster’s mouth as it rises up to its full height no longer hindered from its manacles and sees two tasty morsels kindly left unattended before it. The two brothers failed to notice that Vegeta did not take with him all of the others off of this desolate rock and have to quickly break off their recuperation as they see a flash of obsidian darting towards a pair of women.

The jaws of death open up before Ryoko and Ayeka, the stench of millions dead festering from the black gullet ready to devour them. Their screams are cut off as abruptly as they rose from their throats as teeth slam down and oversized canines grate against each other.

“Now do you see what I mean?!” Vegeta’s arms are tensed and are firmly gripping the two barbed tails of Grah, holding firm and stopping the fiend half a metre from its quarry. Rancid breath pours onto the two frightened maidens as they live to see another day, Grah’s attention turned from the pitifully weak stood in front of him to the irritant grabbing onto him. The two thick trunks of the tails wrap around the proud Saiyan like boa constrictors enveloping a helpless antelope, their abrasive coating peeling off his skin in chunks. Swinging its bulk around Grah propels itself off the ground and backwards to Vegeta, a wry grin plays across his face.

His well used teeth chomp down and sever one of the tips of the tails encasing him, the gloop that is its blood spilling freely and sending sharp nerve impulses of pain to the former owner of two tails. The loss of a segment of a tail will not do much to deter such a power as Grah but all Vegeta needed was a distraction, something to completely take over the mind of his enemy and that came in the form of sharp pain. Grah is still hurtling towards him over the short distance that is its own body length but now not paying attention to the movements of the Saiyan.

Collapsing onto his back Vegeta coils his legs and slams them into the hulking mass above him. Both mighty kicks connecting Grah in each broad shoulder. Such a devastating blow would be enough to fell an entire solar system but Vegeta knows its all or nothing against an adversary the likes he has never before had to face. Amethyst light shines from his dusty boots, a split second later the sky is split by two massive beams. Gallick guns, two of them, one fired from each of his feet tear into Grah. Forcing the horror above him up into the heavens at speed, taken with the blasts the hostile creature shoots off unable to escape the ki blasts propulsing it. Whiplash exerts itself on the laid down Saiyan as tails hooked around him are wrenched forth with the rest of the unfortunate Grah, yanked back to his feet Vegeta watches as his perfectly executed plan reaches its finale.

Gohan and Gotenks land by his side watching the pretty fireworks as a moon is drilled clean through and the final explosion disintegrates another three of the planets now scarce satellites. Nothing but embers and shards of dense minerals drifting in the abyss of space can be seen by the three Saiyans in the aftermath of the Double Gallick Impact. Thankful no large chunks are left as meteors stream into the thin atmosphere of the unnamed and unknown planet far from anywhere anyone has ever mapped or charted in the galaxy.

Ryoko and Ayeka look at their prince, over a third of the skin on his body has been flayed off. The Saiyan jumpsuit around his arms and legs offering no protection to the jagged scales and the armour scratched with deep grooves. A sharp and sudden roar erupts forth from Vegeta as he increases his power level, ki surging around his body. The raw unbridled power of his heating up his flesh and cauterising his openly bleeding skin. With his wounds dealt with he turns to face the reasons why he had to resort to such desperate measures.

“Woo! Yeah, alright! We sure showed him, that’s what happens when you mess with the mighty Gotenks, hahaha.”

“Don’t let overconfidence blind you, youth is no excuse for that behaviour. Can you not still feel it? That thing out there is still alive and I’d wager it’s not going to go so easy on us anymore. Thanks to Vegeta we might have a little time to prepare before it comes back.” Gohan and Gotenks pay no attention to the lone adult Saiyan striding towards his women, they continue to look at the stars and the black night sky waiting for a flash of green to indicate the return of Grah. Charging up their power to the highest levels they have ever attained Gohan and Gotenks stand in their billowing fire vortexes of golden light.

“No more of your nonsense now, you are leaving this planet and getting out of my way.” Vegeta marches up to them in his battered state not in the mood for any arguments or ridiculous behaviour that these two women seem so fond of when he is around.

“No, I won’t go. I’m not going to leave you alone against that. What if you need me?” Ryoko seems absolute in her decision as does Ayeka who says words to a similar effect.

“This is not open for debate, it was an order not a request! Go, save yourselves.” Snapping at them his form disappears from in front of them. A swift karate chop to the base of their necks yields their minds into the blackness of unconsciousness, unable to argue or put up a fight he grabs them and Instant Transmission back to his home they have taken over. Dumping their prone forms by the feet of the other Z warriors he heads back not wanting to miss an opportunity to finish his fight with someone worthy of his time and skill.

Out of all the flaming debris of the moons burning up through the pitch black atmosphere one green speck among the red and oranges can be made out. Having survived Vegeta with not much damage done to its shoulders or arms Grah rockets back down to his home planet, hurtling like a bat out of hell to repay the one who dare stand up and defy its will. A green speck soon becomes a green comet, exponentially growing as it approaches closer and closer to where it was blasted out of orbit. One more long sustained roar tears through Vegeta’s throat as he pushes his body beyond all mortal limits into the final and most powerful form known in the universe. Standing beside his half son Vegeta joins him in the super Saiyan three form.

Plummeting towards the ground Grah’s small eyes pick up this large conflagration and light show, quick thinking on its part Grah decides to attack well before it can make out the humanoid bodies stood ready to take it down. Lighting the fires in its throat, it gathers energy in its expansive mouth in a ball designed for one thing. Spitting the blazing globe toward the planet below the ki attack soon takes on shape and starts enlarging more and more. For the Saiyans below it is as if daytime had come early but this is no Sun they want to come near them, if that Supernova like sphere impacts then they can wave goodbye to the planet they are on and all hope they have of beating the monstrosity bearing down on them.

Taking the initiative Vegeta flies off heading on an intercept course to try and stop the planet destroyer before it is too late as Gohan and Gotenks go to put down the bothersome animal once and for all. Muscular arms spread wide Vegeta grips onto the fiery ball of death in mid-air pushing with all his might against its tremendous power and momentum. Straining against its might he continues to push with every muscle in his body the gloves on his hands spontaneously combusting and his palms charring he fights on through the pain yelling. The orb is slowing down, steadily decreasing its speed towards its intended target but it is too little too late as Vegeta has already been pushed onto the ground itself.

Double teaming Grah, Gohan and Gotenks fight for all their worth in the upper atmosphere. Fist flying and feet impacting against the rock hard stomach of the beast. No longer having to contend with the tails of Grah both hanging limply they can easily breach its defences and start to inflict damage on Grah. This bout is not as one sided as they like however, for every other punch, kick or slam they deal unto Grah they suffer a vicious injury themselves from claws or coarse scales.

The air around him shimmering and ablaze from the great output of power, the prince of all Saiyans continues wrestling to save a planet from destruction for once. Such a powerful attack could never have been deflected away, this was the only course open – that or die with this godforsaken rock. His aura burning around him lighting up the horizons as it outshines the supernova blast in its intensity. He will not lose to this, he will stand his ground to the bitter end – if only the ground thought the same. Giving away and crumbling into gravel, Vegeta’s feet break through the floor beneath him. The very rock itself betraying him, every inch he falls into the planet’s crust is another inch closer to certain, inevitable doom.

A sudden yell and he expels a large amount of built up ki to destroy the plains he is sinking further into. The wasteland torn asunder, he hovers at the centre of a crater, a crater that still is not big enough for the attack he is trying to stop which has a slightly larger radius than that of the depression he has made. No time to make amends to his misjudged hole he plunges deeper as the earth swallows him, his only escape blocked by that of the unstoppable and unmovable force.

Grah is certainly not going to just lay down and die, despite the insurmountable odds of tackling two super Saiyans at once it is pushing them back. After but only a few moments of being engaged with them its observant mind has adapted to their fighting styles and is now capable of predicting their attacks no longer just reacting to them. They might still have better tactics and fighting abilities but most of their attacks he can’t even feel through his thickened hide, protected from any real damage Grah pushes the attack. Gohan and Gotenks have no protection from the death dealing scythes arcing cruelly through the air, Washu’s armour being like putting a wet sheet of paper up to stop a bullet.

Scars and blood begin to riddle both Gohan and Gotenks, neither able to back down or retreat due to their Saiyan heritage and for all their trouble most of the damage Grah has sustained is mainly self inflicted. Losing a claw when it stabbed Gohan’s bicep with it and Gohan rotating in the air rapidly to dislocate and dislodge the claw from the beast’s hand before tearing it from his flesh. Gohan and Gotenks take any opportunity they see to deflect the remaining claws of the beast back towards it, piercing it with the only thing that can seemingly injure it. Maybe a few more of its back spines and its left head crest is the sum of harm dealt by the two sons of Goku, nothing that is in the slightest bit of being life threatening or even a minor inconvenience.

Creating an inconceivable loud bellow out of the sheer frustration that it still hasn’t felled the pesky insects troubling it Grah elbows Gohan, the slower moving of the two, into his younger brother. Spiralling down they slam into the floor but as Gohan gets back to his feet he feels something is terribly wrong. His intuition was right. Behind him instead of one single entity, two people crawl out of the pit him and Gotenks made. The sands of time have conspired against the fused warrior and back to their original bodies they have gone, Goten and Trunks look at each other understanding the messy situation they are now in.

In their young age it is remarkable that they have attained the super Saiyan transformation but even that level of super power is dwarfed by that which they have lost in an instant. Drained and exhausted from the fight both children stumble about barely able to put one foot in front of the other. What appears to be a grin on the lipless face of the crocodilian snout of Grah stretches its sinister muzzle in disfiguring mirth, only one stands left to oppose it and that being the previously weaker one.

Bright green pulses faster and faster under the plates coating Grah, burning like currents of magma. Each throb of its building power echoed in the convulsing planet, Grah’s green colouring projecting outwards in a shimmering flame encapsulating all of its vast form. Emerald bonfires igniting from its very core light in a dazzling exhibition of the true power Grah has kept concealed, not in a secret ploy but for it did not know it could tap into such a wealth and bounty of strength.

Not boding well for Gohan he swallows down his feeling of foreboding and makes one last valiant effort against Grah, throwing everything he has into one punch. Channelling his might and fortitude into those four knuckles of his right hand his battle cry reaches Grah long after the resounding impact. Gohan manages to land the punishing blow dead centre on Grah’s expansive chest yet the agonised scream does not originate from his foe. Coughing up red onto the black and green of Grah Gohan looks down at the open wound in his stomach. Timed to perfection, Grah allowed itself to be hit so that for a split-second Gohan would be stopped perfectly still when his punch collides and rendered unable to move away.

Slamming its knee into the young Saiyan’s stomach the large prong fixed onto Grah’s patella slides straight through the stomach and tickles the spine of Gohan. A growl more akin to a laugh is the last sound Gohan hears when the fangs of Grah crush down on his shoulder, splintering bone and muscle alike before flinging him away like a ragdoll. The violent nature of the throw splits Gohan’s abdomen in two, laying eviscerated on the floor barely able to keep his vital organs within himself the light in his eyes lose focus and have trouble focusing on the demon prowling closer to finish off the one not long for this world.

His hands blackened and carbonised, the jumpsuit he was wearing melting and fusing to his skin Vegeta continues to ward off the supernova. His boots scraping through the base of the crater, millimetres from extinction Vegeta gives up playing games and gets serious. Quaking the world with shouts of rage as he summons to him all available ki to counteract the supernova of Grah’s attack it has long since forgotten about and for the first time the ball of death stops dead in its tracks.

“BIG BANG ATTAACCKK!” A massive blue bolt of energy collides against the many hued supernova. Vegeta is a master when it comes to ki or energy based attacks and not some amateur like this Grah, his blasts packs a hell of a punch as demonstrated by the supernova being one second about to detonate the planet and the next about to detonate another planet in another far off leg of the galaxy. Vegeta flickers out of the dimple on the face of the planet he is the saviour of and gathers up his fallen comrades, careful with the delicate state in which Gohan is verging on.

“You’ve fought well, there is no shame in this defeat. Your part is done now leave it to someone who knows what he’s doing.” Feeling like a taxi service as he lays down three more on his second home planet, waiting this time to make sure Gohan receives the immediate medical care of Dende and maybe a Senzu bean. It’s getting all too much for Chichi, her husband and two beloved sons all fallen in battle and clinging on grimly to their last vestiges of life. Before he leaves Tien throws a Senzu bean his way and god does he need it, he snaps it in two between his crispy fingers and discards it returning to Grah with no others to obstruct his fight. Only a coward with no honour would accept such aid mid battle, an affront to his sense of self he would prefer to perish than accept such aid.

The only two beings still left on this heavenly body face each other. A standoff, neither making a move towards the other. Both just watching the other, watching and waiting … waiting for the right moment. Baring their gritted teeth, bracing their legs and tensing their muscles Vegeta and Grah annihilate a hundred hectares in a heartbeat. Their voices joined in choir, auras radiating off of them to block out the starlight above them and in perfect synchronisation the two fated destroyers raise their power to the max. No floating rocks or crumbling mountains just complete ionisation of all surroundings before as one they vanish from all perception.

Islands of rock millions of years in the making shatter, mountains collapse and tumble down and fissures wide enough to engulf nations mar the surface of the whole planet. Such a catastrophic catastrophe as blasts and punches from the two fighters inflict such devastation to the surroundings, whole continents set ablaze – swallowed whole in infernos. Nuclear warheads would seem like bringing a dull knife to a high calibre rifle duel compared to the mighty explosions dotting the landscape, scarring it to such a degree that even if this planet were to survive for several aeons it would never heal these deep wounds gouging it. Global temperatures rise 10 degrees centigrade over one second which goes unnoticed by the duo of living things left battling it out.

Moving in the hyper-time of faster than light speeds, Vegeta implements every battle technique, strategy or combo of moves he has ever thought of as he exhausts his arsenal against the horror that hardly flinches from each attack landed. Blows traded between the two produce huge earthquake causing shockwaves. Mile long tunnels in the planet appear as one fighter then the next is thrown through the ground. Fighting on a different plane all together than anything alive it goes on for hours, dragging on with neither giving into the wounds they receive.

The fighters appear back in view clashing two almighty beams of raw ki, one a brilliant shining gold the other a dark and twisted jade connecting in a blaze of which the universe hasn’t witnessed since it first began. Directing such power through his incinerated palms is no mean feat for Vegeta, each molecule of power singes more and more of his ravaged hands but not in a way in which his nerve endings are toasted to the point so that pain is not transmitted. A beam clash is always a difficult position to be in, especially with tremendous pain screaming at you from trying to stop yourself being disintegrated by Grah.

Instant Transmission is Vegeta’s only bet to escape Grah’s blast, both weakened by the previous fighting but only the Saiyan appears to be handicapped by it. Now suddenly behind the creature a rapid volley of shots fire off into the flanks of Grah, two knobbly scales smash onto the floor below revealing more of the horror’s vibrant pulsing core. Grah dives completely unfazed through the barrage and into the waiting trap laid cunningly for it. The mindless beast charged headlong without thinking through the soot and smoke of the blasts that hit it not suspecting Vegeta would have instant transmissioned again. In the time it takes for the raging Grah’s eyes to clear the obscuring vapours it is far too late for it.

Landing on its back and scrabbling over its scaly hide like a rock face as he uses his smaller size against the beast, Vegeta works his way towards the one chink in Grah’s armour – the missing scales only just shattering on the cold hard floor. Being grappled from behind Grah goes berserk, bucking and shaking to rid itself of Vegeta. Only when it feels something touching the gaping hole in its side does its actions become frantic, great arms lashing at its back and luckily for Vegeta he took out the use of its tails long ago or he would have a hard time dodging now. One of Vegeta’s arms is now by its target and a swift punch takes it into the beast.

“GRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” One of Grah’s arms explodes off at the shoulders as Vegeta ejects himself from the rabid monster. The Saiyan did plan on sawing off the limb with a blade made of ki but the other oversized arm of his foe was getting dangerously close to ripping his back into shreds, forced to act on impulse has cost the Saiyan. Not a whole limb so it was still worth it but Vegeta’s right hand is a bloody mess, most of the blood not his but the crimson life juice of his is spilling freely from where the explosion he set off cleanly detached three of his fingers. A finger and thumb is no good for making a fist, the arm might as well be useless to him.

An aftermath of feral rage brought on from the searing pain at its shoulder drives Grah into a frenzied rage of unrelenting fury. Reckless slashes and swipes allow Vegeta some room to attack Grah but such an assault is leaving him hard pressed just to keep his head attached. Tapering claws rake his chest and legs where the fatigue of sustaining the super Saiyan 3 transformations gets the better of the prince and soon it is hard to make out either fighter for the gore spattered everywhere. Covering them in a thick coat. Blood loss and extreme exhaustion slow down Vegeta and Grah in their epic duel. Punches become sluggish and legs leaden in their movements. Such a battle should have been over in a matter of minutes but it is now entering its fourth hour and neither can retain the pace for much longer.

Their battle dragging both down to the ground the prince and the fiend wrestle. Vegeta’s good arm holding back the gnashing mandibles from mauling his face whilst his wounded hand is left with the Herculean task of keeping back the one healthy arm Grah has at its disposal. Muscles taught and feet digging into the ground Vegeta head-butts Grah’s neck hoping that maybe there is a slim chance it has a vital organ there or something to be destroyed. Pounding away as they both stand unmoving Vegeta’s sight blurs and he immediately discontinues his futile attack which had a higher likelihood of concussion than success, blood drips from his ruined forehead into his grim eyes focused on one thing alone.

Such an annoyance as the one person it can’t overpower has to be dealt with, Grah utilises one lone foot and turns the tide of battle in its favour. Vegeta’s calf was not ready for a foot long spike to be rammed into it, the foot claw of Grah severing tendons and muscles as it rips its way clean through the flesh of his leg. Clean as a butcher’s slice Vegeta’s calf hangs on by a whisper of a thread, copious amounts of sanguine flowing out of him. Precious drops he cannot afford to lose soiling the floor. A fit of blind rage engulfs Vegeta, still interlocked with Grah he once again turns the air into explosive plasma. Searing both injured parties flesh and wounds but consequently wiping out a humongous chunk of the dying world.

A simple lesson in geography for Vegeta arrives at the wrong time – massive hole created in a planet usually leads to a volcanic eruption. Lava spurts and spews forth from beneath the wrestling pair, that is until one of them suffers a severe misfortune. Burning magma splashes onto the Saiyan’s mutilated back, boiling the flesh from his bones, giving off a smell that only seems to arouse Grah’s hunger to beat Vegeta more. Slowly being roasted alive, unable to rid himself of the lava for if he were to let go Grah would be upon him and it would be game over. Such pain, pain of which he has dealt with before but not all at once; lost digits on his hand, innumerable scratches, scars and deep lacerations, his calf severed from his tibia, hands burned and flayed to the point which they don’t even work and to top it all off lava melting its way onto his spine.

It all becomes too much for a single man to bear and for just a fraction of a second his mind forgets the battle and all it knows is the world of pain it has been dunked head first into. Screaming in the throes of his tormented and tortured body he fails to retain a hold on the opening jaws of death. A sweet deliverance awaiting him at the end of the tunnel that is its mouth, a light. A bright glowing crimson light growing as it comes to greet him. The second supernova blast of Grah this time does not fail in hitting its target and in that moment the battle is decided.