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Cautiously she makes her way to the bathroom and goes inside after knocking to make sure she wouldn’t have to relive yesterday’s little bathroom faux pas. The bathing quarters appear empty yet with the other occupants of the household that means very little. It takes well over an hour for her to complete washing herself so that her skin is baby smooth and supple and her hair as sleek and lustrous as if it were a cascading waterfall of amaranthine falling down her gentle shoulders, all this she does not just for her morning ritual but in hope that her splendour will shine through to him.

Her breath rancid from last nights binge, Ryoko rolls out of her bed knocking over the two empty sake bottles by her. The chiming of the glass is like a banshee’s wail scraping through her mind as the room begins to spin and slip out of focus. Throbbing and pounding her mind reminds her what happens when you drink to excess. Quickly she silences the hangover with a rush of ki and phases out of her room and into the bathroom.

The one person she did not want to see, especially so early in the morning, by Sod’s law has to be the one she appears in front of. An awkward silence as they look at each other then silently walk on past one another with the princess leaving the bathroom wrapped in a velvety towel. Reminded of the dreaded thing Vegeta tricked them into doing in front of him Ryoko shudders.

Plunging her head in the cool waters to cleanse and purify her mouth from an ensuing bitter taste – or as close as can be for someone without taste buds. Refreshed she slips the rest of her body into the pool, taking as long as she possibly can cleaning her alluring body. Wishing that the champion of her heart would walk through those doors, get bewitched by just a glimpse of her enchanting, sensuous curves and be the one to scrub the tender skin of her back, maybe even a little bit more.

All traces of last nights boozing washed and sponged away, back in her room she puts on another of her new dresses to see whether this one would, with any luck, entice Vegeta more. A simple blue dyed cotton dress flowing to her feet with yellow stripes adorning her sleeves and below the burgundy cummerbund. Hardly having to think about it, Ryoko finishes off her outfit with her ‘tail’. Beyond any doubt in her mind she is positive that wearing this must in some small way appeal to his Saiyan nature and give her an edge over that damned Juraian.

Going straight through the floorboards Ryoko arrives next to Ayeka in the doorway to the kitchen. Only wanting to grab a light snack for breakfast both women look on at the scene before them bewildered, it wasn’t a T.V that woke Ayeka it turns out. 21 people – including Ryo-ohki – are crammed in the kitchen, some of them strangers they have not met before and so making it even weirder that they are just there in the house.

As expected Vegeta is at the head of the table with his son by his side wolfing down the hearty banquet of breakfast arrayed on the heaving table. Sasami has truly outdone herself managing to cook a fry-up breakfast for such a large amount of guests when some can eat enough food for a large family. Piles of sausages and crispy back bacon, mountains of chips and golden hash browns, steaming bowls of baked beans or fried tomatoes along with many other dishes with other fried food such as bread or eggs. The way a true breakfast should be.

Sasami is still frantically working in the kitchen along with the help of Chichi, who will not admit how amazed she is by this little girl’s cooking skills. For every dish cleared by the hungry Z warriors more are brought forth and laid on the table. Wary of such a large crowd of formidable fighters the women sit down on the two make-shift chairs remaining formed out of stacks of cushions and pillows.

They spot quite a few familiar faces. Chichi did not come alone of course so at the end of the table directly opposite the prince of their race sit Goku, Gohan and Goten – Gohan having also brought Videl with him and not wearing his ridiculous glasses. Father and sons are wearing the gi of the school of Turtle and Kai respectively, being careful in their feeding to snatch any crumbs out of the air and digest them part out of hunger and part to not spoil their bright orange clothing.

The head of the school of Turtle is also there in a black and white martial arts suit and his roving eyes hidden behind his signature green tinted shades. Roshi appears very out of place sat between Yamcha and Tien. The bald triclopsian showing off his sturdy scarred chest with a forest green gi covering only one shoulder and the scar faced bandit with a long unkempt mane and also wearing a gi honouring his tutorage under Roshi. Never to be without his best friend Tien, the incredibly short albino with rosy red cheeks Chiaotzu levitates beside his long time pal.

Krillin, the other fighter here of stunted growth, is with his wife and child along with the nomadic uncle of Marron, 17. A long brown leather duster, torn jeans, orange bandanna and perfectly straight jet black hair are the main differences between these two near identical brother and sister androids, save for their difference in gender. Finally there are the four fighters not eating or by the table. The two Namekians; Dende, now fully grown and only a bit shorter than the other of his species and Piccolo still wearing his cloak and turban as always. As Dende is the guardian of the planet and creator of the current set of dragonballs his faithful servant Mr. Popo is dutifully stood by his side trying not to look uncomfortable by the last guest of similar physique. Majin Buu.

Although purified of all evil from within him, the obese pink blob still is the least accepted member in the party of protectors of the Earth. It doesn’t help that he was separated from his pet dog and only friend Mr. Satan – who apparently has an extremely serious and real stomach ache that impairs his fighting so much he just couldn’t make it – putting the creation of Bibidi in a sullen and grumpy mood. The other Z warriors know how childlike he can be and don’t want to be anywhere near him if he decides to tantrum.

Only the Saiyans or children of Saiyans are the ones still breakfasting. All the humans and other assorted species have had their fill nearly an hour ago and are just catching up with one another, reminiscing over old times and battles fought long ago. Light conversation only just drowning out the sound of the diners fast approaching the final dish of food. One plate left, one last morsel of food left … a lone pork sausage stands alone between Goku and Vegeta. With their offspring pushing themselves away from the table with stomachs full to the point of bursting, the only pure blooded Saiyans lock eyes in a standoff.

“I suppose there’s only one way to settle this Kakarot …” His voice cuts through the chatter and plunges the room into a deadly silence, the tension building between prince and the one raised on Earth. All eyes focus on the two, knowing that the peaceful meal could at any minute erupt into a deadly brawl, over nothing more than a scrap of food.

“ … this is my house, so this food I claim as my own! If you have any objections you know where the door is and my boot will gladly aid you on your way.” Grabbing his prize from the centre of the table he stands to address the gathering of superpowers with banger in hand.

“We’ve all felt this new presence far off in the margins between our north quadrant of the galaxy and that of the east. It has only been two days, less than 48 hours, since this ‘thing’ has emerged … and already it is well on its way to surpassing all of us in terms of sheer strength, such exponential growth of power and by tomorrow none of us would stand a hope in hell against it. It is still an unknown life form but whatever it is it needs to be dealt with, soon and with extreme prejudice. An hour of training to warm up in the gravity chamber then we embark to exterminate whatever the hell it is. Any questions?” None of the fighters respond and just stand up, heading off for Vegeta’s personal training room. Ayeka and Ryoko on the other hand have a ton of questions whirring around their minds, this being the first time they have heard about this new enemy.

The non combatants also quietly leave the kitchen for the more spacious and comfortable living room, leaving Vegeta alone with the two women. He bites off one half of the piece of meat still in his gloved hand and tears the remainder into two equal pieces. Looking down at the pieces of food he battles against the rising primal Saiyan urge to devour it there and then and steps towards the two seated women offering a piece to each of them.

“Here, take it. You came down late and so didn’t have anything to eat. One should not go without food, today of all days.” He shares his food extremely reluctantly, Ayeka courteously accepts and thanks him for the hand out. Ryoko snatches the quarter that would have been touched by Vegeta’s mouth when he took his bite.

“It’s just like indirectly kissing isn’t it, oh you are such a sly one Vegeta, asking me to nibble on your sausage. What would people say if they knew?” Ryoko’s teasing and flirting luckily goes unnoticed by Ayeka who doesn’t pick up on the euphemism used or what the coy corsair is alluring to. Vegeta groans, he should have seen that coming from a mile off, his mind was elsewhere focusing on the task he faces today.

Choosing rather to ignore Ryoko’s exasperating behaviour than confront her over it he walks off from the two women. Leaving them to eat the small breakfast that was left to them out of the rare charity of Vegeta. A booming rapping on her door brings Washu out of her sanctum of science.

“The battle armour I requested, is it ready yet?” Vegeta’s toned muscles in his crossed arms at eye level for the mademoiselle of knowledge and intellect are a perfect reminder to Washu as to why she accepted to do this little favour for him.

“I finished off the last batch late last night, it’s as light as a feather and a lot more durable than all other previous models. Oh, I also implemented it with your wife’s capsule technology so that … I don’t know, you could carry around spares in your pocket or something.” The magenta haired youth dashes back off into the lab and swiftly returns holding one of the small pill shaped devices with the logo not of Vegeta’s wife’s company but a little caricature of Washu’s face, her ego knows no bounds. Pressing the button and throwing the capsule on the floor a moment later in a puff of smoke a near perfect replica of Vegeta’s favourite attire lays on the ground.

The Saiyan prince stoops to pick it up, inspecting the protection he will have to use for today’s mission. No shoulder guards or skirt armour just like his own – but for the fact Washu also stamped her logo not too inconspicuously on one of the chest plates. He turns it around, balancing it on the tip of one of his fingers then brings one of his gloved fists smashing straight through both sides of the plate armour as if it were cardboard. Dropping the remains to the floor he looks unimpressed at Washu who is just gawking at him.

“What was that? I thought you said you’d improved it. You focused too much on decreasing the weight of the armour and not enough on the protection it offers to its wearers. It’s feather light for you, but you forgot that it’s not you who will be wearing it to potentially save their lives. As long as it’s under a quarter of a ton then it will not encumber my movements or fighting whatsoever … you have less than one hour, get to work or you’ll be coming with us on this mission.” With that ominous threat hanging over her she scurries back into her lab with the ruined piece of armour in her hands.

“Hey, you two, where do you think you’re going?” Vegeta stops Ryoko and Ayeka on their way past him, barring their way past with his body.

“You said an hour of training right? So we’re going to the training room like you said.” Ryoko seems confused by having to answer this question, surely Vegeta remembers what he said a few minutes ago.

“Ha, don’t make me laugh. I meant that only for real fighters, you better sit this one out with the other weaklings. This battle will be hard enough without having to babysit the both of you. Until you can overpower Videl or Chichi you’re not worth the effort of bringing along.” Striding away from them he enters the training room and slams the thick door in their faces. They are fuming, infuriated by his blasé dismissal of their kind offering of aiding him in the sortie.

Only just keeping their emotions in check both women moodily sit down by the other outclassed or passive members of the group. Being put in the same class as the two infant girls playing with Ryo-ohki is just too great an affront to each of their sense of honour and pride they cannot bear it, never mind his blatant rejection of them.

“Grrr. How dare he! Who does he think he is? I’m a space pirate, feared in over ten solar systems for my power and … and he goes and says I’m too weak to help; too frail, that I’d just get in the way. He’ll pay for putting me with this old grandma.” With that Ryoko signs her own death warrant. Being sat next to Chichi, who honestly never likes the topic of her age, this in hindsight was the worst possible thing she could have done or said.

The hellfires raise in the wife of Goku’s eyes. She slowly rises from her seat staring at Ryoko with murderous intent. A small little squeal escapes from the frightened Ryoko as she watches Chichi’s hair loose itself from its bun and begins to rise, a burgundy like flame surrounding the enraged wife and mother. Ayeka can’t help but enjoy watching Ryoko squirm under the extreme discomfort of the situation, a sentiment not shared by the other onlookers – Videl, Dende and Chiaotzu.

“WHAT!DID!YOU!CALL!ME!?!” The acid dripping words seethe out of her clenched teeth. Her face hardening into a dark visage of maddening outrage, the Kaioken-like aura intensifying around Chichi like her blinding rage. Ryoko phases up on top of one of the wooden beams, peeping her head tentatively over the edge to peer down on the bride of Goku.

“Y-you must have misheard me I-I called you … umm a-a nice p-pretty young lady who doesn’t look a-a day over 70.” The meek excuse Ryoko hopes will atone her for her loose tongue dangerously backfires, a slight discrepancy between her concept of how long a year is and that of an Earth year seals her fate.

Like a rabid cat Chichi leaps into the air with a flying kick aimed straight at Ryoko’s hiding spot, the wood splinters and groans as her foot lands on it and instantly she rebounds to where Ryoko is quickly flying off to. Hard pressed to defend herself from such an onslaught of lightning fast kicks and jabs, Chichi’s claws are out in this cat fight. Forced to phase away from Chichi Ryoko appears outside the house a safe 50ft off the floor. Chichi rushes outside to continue her assault against the flying woman but her inability to fly leaves her unable to hit Ryoko, even though she can easily jump to the same height as that of which Ryoko is hovering at.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Is this how earthlings react when I give them a compliment, sheesh!”

“A compliment! As if, I don’t care what part of space you’re from but if you think calling me an old 70 year old is a compliment you’re out of your mind. I’ll have you know I’m still in my thirties!” With all her unbridled fury Chichi shouts this last statement, still itching to get her own back on the one flying tauntingly above her head. Ryoko looks confused, her concepts of time differing greatly from that of the woman below her.

“You lie. There’s no way that you’re only 30, you’d still look like Sasami if you were. We’re both women here so you can tell the truth, I myself am in my second century of being alive.” Chichi is silenced, too shocked by the announcement that Ryoko is closer in age to Roshi than her.

“Hahahahahaha, oh now isn’t this a pleasant little surprise. So there is a very good explanation as to why you always behave like an old hag … and for the sagging.” Ayeka chuckles to herself from her spot in the shadows of the doorway, unable to contain the ecstatic glee from overhearing this conversation and finding out Ryoko’s true age.

“MY BODY IS NOT SAGGING! I’ll show you who’s an old hag you fat, inbred bitch!” Now it’s Ryoko’s turn to be on the offensive concerning the delicate issue of age. With a battle cry she dives towards the princess with balls of flickering red gathering in her fists. Ayeka spawns her miniature guardians which begin to crackle with growing energy as the space pirate swoops down ready to blast her.

With Ryoko but feet away from her Ayeka lifts off from the ground preparing to engage her when a pale faced child sized man steps into the fray. The air shimmers around them, their bodies trapped as if they were set in stone. Paralyzed by the telekinetic powers of Chiaotzu he stops their fight. He keeps them in that frozen state for half an hour until he thinks they have calmed down enough to be released – this he judges as that is the time when they stop exchanging insults.

In control of their own bodies again the women see the consequences of continuing their grudge match, Ryoko phases back into the house with Ayeka and Chiatzou walking back in after her. With peace, in the loosest form of the word, enforced the four women, two girls, Namekian and Chiaotzu watch the television screen to see how the sparring matches are going.

7 intense battles are raging simultaneously, each fighter paired up with the most appropriate other of a similar power level – although for some this still leaves them seriously outclassed and outmatched. The old martial arts master is trying to land blows on the genie of the lookout, his old body still muscular but not as fast as it once was. Wrinkles and age have eroded some of his former strength but he still has enough left in him and the wisdom and battle experience of his great age still makes him a valuable asset to the warriors. Mr. Popo doesn’t seem to be having too much trouble deflecting the elderly fists shooting towards him but the stamina of Roshi eventually begins to tire the servant of Dende.

The dynamic duo, Goten and Trunks, obviously paired themselves up together for the pretend fight. Neither taking it too seriously as the rules enforced by the others of no transformations, blasts or planet destroying techniques to be used to protect the more vulnerable of the Z warriors from the destructive capabilities of the might of Saiyans. Only one year in difference between the lads yet at such a young age this gives Trunks a good advantage over Goten in muscle growth and reach.

Tall and slim battles short and stocky as Krillin has the misfortune of having his wife attacking him. The she-cyborg being able to over power super Saiyans with relative efficiency and the strongest human being alive – how Krillin wishes that his power and years of training would count for anything as his Mrs bears down upon him. 18 would never kill her beloved husband but the amount she has to restrain her formidable strength by just to make the training non fatal for Krillin is testing her self control.

For old time’s sake Piccolo squares up against the first being to witness his power after re-joining bodies with Kami. The calm and confident 17 prepares for a rematch after this duel was interrupted by a most unwelcome guest last time. Coal black hair and pea green antenna flail about as they finally try and settle the score. Not the only pair to be recreating a historic scene the firstborn Human-Saiyan hybrid is left with the only other close to approaching his prowess, even though it having rapidly dipped off after Old Kai’s supreme bolstering of his unbridled hybrid potency. Him and Buu seem on even ground with each other mainly as Buu has no technique or grace when it comes to fighting and has not fought for well over two years now.

It’s not all fun and games though, for the two final match ups are those between crusaders with grudges. Vegeta and Goku, Yamcha and Tien. Neither Vegeta or Yamcha having ever truly forgiven their sparring partner for their humiliation, their disgrace and injuries. Yamcha suffered a broken leg last time he truly fought against Tien and that injury left him in no shape to defend his friends from the evil of King Piccolo, Vegeta will never surrender his pride or rightful place of strongest Saiyan to the ragtag low-class scum and for that the training starts to get interesting.

The audience intently watching the screen cheers on their respective warrior; Chiaotzu for Tien, Dende for Piccolo and Mr. Popo, Videl for Gohan, Chichi for Goku and of course Ryoko and Ayeka keenly observing Vegeta’s battle. Brash and bold as ever Ryoko isn’t as shy as Ayeka when it comes to letting people know where her allegiance lies. Sasami and Marron couldn’t care less about the tournament occurring but 10 metres from where they amuse themselves with the mountain of toys Vegeta generously bought for his small personal chef.

The hour is almost up, the training comes to a crashing halt as one by one a winner is decided in each match. Getting tired of being on the receiving end Popo dispatches Roshi, the frailty of his elder age once again catching up with him. The turtle hermit’s defeat almost makes Krillin’s look like a close match for as soon as his wife quickly bores of the relative weakness of her husband he is down and out eating dirt. Android 17 and Buu both taste defeat once again at the hands of Piccolo and his first and only student Gohan. Goten and Trunks’ contest though is won by a hair’s breadth as the older lad triumphantly stands over his thwarted buddy.

Not allowing themselves to be outdone in anyway, Yamcha and Tien struggle on against each other through the onset of fatigue and injury. Never conceding ground to the other, not backing down the humans continue their fight whilst the only others left make them look as though they were helpless new born babies. No-one watching could honestly have described in the slightest what the fight Goku and Vegeta had consisted of. As soon as both of them had set foot in the training room they had vanished from sight, with not a single trace of their whereabouts or fight detectable.

Tien and Yamcha at the last second break off from one another and fly out of the training room as the whole holographic earth erupts in a mountain of bedrock and debris. None of the fighters or non-combatants are paying any attention to the television but staring through the open doorway where the two scarred humans stand panting and exhausted. Behind them in a crater that would rival that of one caused by a large moon impacting the simulated world two Saiyans interlock in an epic struggle.

Braced against each other, hands locked, feet dug a foot into the solid rock the prince and the pauper push with all their strength against each other. The world beneath them continues to crack and fracture, the hill sized boulders unearthed by them vibrating into the air and a thunderous groan shudders the virtual globe. A smile of understanding flickers between the destined pair. The roars of the trembling planet are drowned out by the yells of the most powerful beings in existence as they both ascend in synch with the other to super Saiyan 3.

The aura radiated out from them envelopes the entire battlefield, bolts of lightning zap and dart across the open doorway. Everyone just stands and stares, unable to do anything else at this incomprehensible power displayed before them. Only Dende seems to not care about the ensuing battle as he tunes it out and sets to his job of healing all of the combatants with his mystical unique Namekian powers. Not a single person, including Gohan, can follow or tell what is taking place behind the wall of shining luminescence barring the portal to the battleground. Then a deafening silence deadens the house.

Emerging from their own blinding light Vegeta and Goku walk towards the rest of the group, their clothes tattered and torn like their bodies. Not waiting for Dende, Vegeta carries on slamming open Washu’s door, obliterating it again. His coarse blonde hair disappearing through the door, the floor beneath him cracking, the air around him sizzling and boiling from his immense amount of energy constantly being given off by his body. Like a flare he lights his own way into the endless system of rooms and corridors of Washu’s den, following the faint humming and buzzing of her busily working machines and computers.

The rumble shaking her lab deepens and escalates, by now she has no need to guess who is stomping towards her. Her hands a blur over the keyboard she enters the last command to her robotic inventions as she rushes to finalise the assignment she was given not too long ago. 13 capsules quickly tumble out of a large dispenser, grabbing them Washu turns to face the growing source of light encroaching on her position.

The light suddenly cuts off plunging her lab back into murky gloom, lit only by the ghostly light emitted from the numerous screens and monitors. Her genius mind estimates his position correctly. Slowly swivelling round on her floating chair she comes face to face with a slightly worn out and bruised Vegeta.

“You’re just in time. Right this moment I have done the impossible and redesigned, remodelled and recreated this whole batch of my armour-”

“TO HELL WITH THE ARMOUR! If you don’t tell me right this second why the training room simulation and gravity cut off when I was in the midst of prevailing over that damned Kakarot you will beg for the sweet release of death before I’m done with you!” His barrel chest sharply rising and falling as his laboured breathing continues to try and counteract the large oxygen debt his body built up in the last few minutes, his ki slowly disposing of the lactic acid and other signs of fatigue. His eyes like daggers he waits for an explanation, a good one or she would be smeared across the floor and decorating the walls of this godforsaken place.

“It shut down? Hmmm interesting, lets take a look … I wonder …” Her life on the line she pivots to face her semi-translucent computer flicking through the flood of information continually flowing into her archives and databases. In no time at all she has found the relevant window and opened it to reveal why her upgrades to the training room ceased functioning.

“Seems like you two actually managed to overload its circuitry; every fuse is blown, every wire burnt out and most of the components charred to a crisp. You broke every failsafe I installed, every last one of them … and I designed it to be able to take as much energy as that emitted from a dozen star systems combined. You Saiyans really don’t interact well with your environment when powered up do you?” She might have pushed her luck too far with that last remark. Wincing she shies and prepares her pretty young face to be malformed by his fists … opening her eyes she carefully checks around her lab. Still on guard, she goes back to work on the armour to find all the capsules missing. In the distance she hears another of her mass produced doors that automatically replaces its unfortunate predecessor being slammed and broken as Vegeta leaves her be.

He is seriously pissed that his duel with Goku was disrupted like it was when Buu was first spawned, yet there are bigger fish to fry and the fool can wait for another day. Back with his companions and compatriots, Vegeta awaits for Dende to restore him to full health. All the others are applauding his and Goku’s spectacular show, the women proud of their men as are their sons. Goku’s and Vegeta’s eyes linger on the other for a while, both itching to finish what they started and their hunger for battle still roaring within them.

Now with every fighting member of the Z warriors back at their maximum Vegeta throws down all the armour capsules he took from Washu’s lab, activating their automatic release system. 13 perfect sets of Saiyan battle garments lay on the floor between Vegeta and the rest, he stifles his anger at the way in which Washu took the liberty of customising each chest plate with her little icon. He also is curious as to why she decided that making different versions and colourations of the armour was necessary, he will never understands the machinations her astute yet twisted mind concocts.

His current armour he is wearing is in shreds, as is most of the clothing worn by all the other participants from the harsh hour of training they were subjected to. Washu must have foreseen this and so included with each set of armour a blue or black jumpsuit out of the kindness of her heart. Bending down on one sturdy knee the prince of Saiyans picks up the nearest suit of armour, gratified to find it has some weight to it this time and seems more durable.

One minute he is wearing clothes on the brink of falling off of him the next he is perfectly dressed in the armour that was in his hands, blue jumpsuit and Saiyan armour complete with pauldrons and crotch and hip guards. It feels good to be back in the old uniform he wore before Earth and his downfall, decades have passed since he last wore any armour such as this. Ryoko however is disheartened that Vegeta has changed before her very eyes yet not even a glimpse of his body was offered for her. With Vegeta now ready and stretching his elasticated gloves and boots on the others begin to choose their own raiment.

Black and green, no shoulder or hip guards – the armour of a Saiyan elite force member. If it only had no sleeves or torso part of the black jumpsuit Goku would look in every sense like the father he never knew. The only others to have tried on armour before, Gohan and Krillin, both decide on the ones closest to resembling those they wore back on Namek when they fought against Freiza. Full sleeved, blue jumpsuit and with the prominent pauldrons attached to the breastplate Gohan joins the other Saiyans whilst Krillin struggles with the boots on his armour.

The women seem to not know where to look with men apparently undressing right before them yet they don’t see anything. Washu did not make any of the jumpsuits sleeveless or without trousers like Nappa or Raditz wore. Despite this though there is still a considerable variation in the armours available such as colour schemes or additional protection such as Haidate. The geminate androids disregard the armour and decide to go without it, on aesthetical grounds mainly for 18 as she feels that it would be a crime against fashion for one such as her to wear this crude clothing.

The reformed desert raider and turncoat student of the Crane martial arts school don the black and brown shoulder padded armour alike to what Goku’s brother wore before Piccolo drilled through his and Goku’s stomach. Goten and Trunks are not left with any choice, the armour might stretch to any size but it does not decrease past a certain limit so the two pint sized whippersnappers don the junior sized armour. The last warrior to dress for battle is the Namekian who lives in solitude, already having shoulder pads he drapes his cape over the navy blue armour he grudgingly wears. Roshi and Popo would wear the remaining suits if it were not too cumbersome for them, they do not have such levels of strength for even lifting the hardened armour off of the ground never mind being able to move with any degree of speed in it.

“Everyone ready? Ok then all of us join hands together and I’ll instant transmission us to the planet this thing is currently on-” Goku takes charge for he doesn’t yet know that in his training Vegeta has also mastered the art of teleportation and so assumes he is the only one who can instigate their little adventure.

“Hey wait a minute Goku. I got to say goodbye to Marron first Ok, be just a minute.” The long term friend of Goku goes to his daughter along with his wife. Deciding to leave his precious Marron in the capable hands of the woman in the room with the strongest maternal instincts of all, Chichi. Promising he and 18 will be back safe and soon Krillin and his wife re-join with the assembled soldiers of unrivalled might. Standing in a circle the men, woman and Namekian join hands with each other – most of them feeling very awkward and self aware in this embarrassing stance.

“Hey wait! Don’t leave without me! Wait!” Two feminine voices chime in unison. Vegeta curses not too quietly under his breath when he sees the two women who have plagued his last week sprinting into the room at full speed. He takes his eyes off of the them for less than a few minutes whilst he waits for the others to get ready and they must have snuck off and changed into their own battle gear. Ryoko back in her tight fitting crimson and black one piece. Ayeka’s suit is radically different from all the other garbs and garments she has worn around the house, although Vegeta didn’t expect her to have a set of clothing for war anyhow. Long leather boots, salmon coloured tights and sleeves, a brown and black hardened waistcoat with a baby blue ribbon wrapped tightly around her slim waist but most shocking of all is the grey hue her skin has taken on as well as the two black slashes along each of her cheeks.

“Kakarot go now, we don’t need their help. Go!” A wry smile plays across Goku’s face as he hesitates for one second before all of the Z warriors fizz out of existence and view, along with Ayeka and Ryoko who at the last instant had managed to brush their fingertips along Vegeta’s back. With nothing left to do the women and Chiaotzu sit down patiently waiting for the safe return of the ones who had just left. Ryo-ohki meows loudly as she watches her owner desert her, quickly forgetting about it as she hops back towards the merry young girls.

“You lot just gonna sit there and wait aren’t you. Well lucky for you the smartest and most beautiful scientist is here to help. You’ll all be glad to know that I secreted in microscopic high definition cameras cunningly hidden within my logo on the armour that they are wearing that should be transmitting live feed right now to this T.V screen right now.” Popping out of her lab now she knows the coast is clear and her life is no longer being threatened by Vegeta, the girl like prober of the unknown and unknowable Washu takes a seat by the other women. Plopping herself down in-between Chichi and Videl she switches on the T.V and turns it over to channel -1, her own special channel for her own frequency of broadcasts, as the screen loads and projects all 9 data feeds.

BAMF! 15 humanoids appear out of thin air on a far away planet. A faint breeze whistles past them, stirring up the grey dust and ash covering the whole landscape. A barren and desolate wasteland of grey and brown, not a hint of greenery or life to be seen. Five great moons of differing size light the night sky along with a host of celestial bodies unviewable from the Earth they just left. Their feet sink slightly into the cinders coating the floor of this desert, this featureless plain devoid of all topography or undulations just a flat landscape of sombre ash from horizon to bleak horizon.

Ryoko and Ayeka start to cough and wheeze from the low concentration of oxygen on the arid uninhabited world. The spluttering of the women breaks the eternal silence of the wasted world, the only noise made on the planet as the rest is silence. Vegeta shrugs off the two arms of the women grasped firmly to his back as he takes in his surroundings, noting that there will be no geographical features to give an advantage to anyone. No high ground or mountains to smash someone into, not nearby at least. The other warriors seem to also be analysing the area that will soon become a battleground, testing how much give the ground has, the effect the only slightly stronger gravity has on their bodies and what the change in oxygen concentration might have on their stamina.

“Darn it, we’re too late. I hoped we could save this world from this monster … yet everything is gone, it’s already killed them all.” Goku’s compassion for all living things shines through, even though he did not know who or what lived here the fact that every species of the planet bar one is extinct exasperates the kind soul.

“There’s nothing we can do ‘bout it now. Hey at least it didn’t absorb them to make itself stronger.” Trying to lighten the mood the person most accustomed to climates like this, Yamcha, cheers up his long time pal.

“You’re right there Yamcha. I just pray that this one doesn’t have regeneration powers or else we’ll be in trouble.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with regeneration? I can do it.” The men all turn at this unexpected announcement from Ryoko, annoyed at this slander of what she deems to be a very important part of her fighting ability.

“I agree with you Ryoko. Regeneration is an incredibly useful technique to have under your belt, yet when every enemy you fight can reconstruct its whole body from just a single cell that’s when it starts to get real annoying.” With his green and pink arms crossed, his striped muscles pronounced, Piccolo doesn’t bother looking at who he is addressing just off into the distance where an energy level can be sensed. All of them but Ayeka can sense it and it is growing, swelling, nearing and doing all of these fast.

“I explicitly forbade you from accompanying us, you could endanger us all and jeopardise this mission. Damn you both! Don’t you realise how much danger you are in here? This isn’t a game you fools, you could die here. Do you want that? Ayeka I expected as much from you, you’ve never been in a battle in your life but you Ryoko, I expected you to at least have some slight common sense and stay the hell away. Damn you both to hell!” Still taking great umbrage from his cut short fight he snarls this out a bit too harshly, but only a tad more than he meant to.

“But lord Vegeta w-we just wanted to help, I didn’t mean to cause any upset.” Poor Ayeka seems nearly heartbroken by him yelling at her, she went through all that trouble of fishing out this ceremonial battle garment and once again through the pain of teleportation just to be shouted at like a misbehaved child.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, I know I’ve been down that road far too many times than I would like. Now shut up and I’ll take you back to my house where you will be safe from harm.” This little domestic scene has caught everyone’s attention, it is the only think going on in the landscape though, so as Vegeta marches towards them a gnarled hand stops him.

“Hey dude just chill out for a sec ok? Let those two babes stay for a little while, you don’t have to worry about them just yet and if it gets a little too dangerous then Goku can Instant Transmission them back to your gaff and hey presto everything’s fine. Who knows they might be a bit weaker then us but every little helps, you know what I’m saying. ” Although Ayeka is not too fond of him calling her by such a derogatory term she firmly agrees with what he is saying as does Ryoko, who once again has taken to staring achingly at Vegeta with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Humph. You may have a point Yamcha. So be it, you two may be of some use after all. So for the time being you can stay but at any sign of trouble you’re gone. Protect Dende, I’m sure that should be something the both of you can manage, if he falls then we lose our medical support so don’t mess up.” With that final comment he leaves them to look at the same spot on the horizon that Piccolo is watching with eagle eyes. Content with his decision to let them stay they move over next to the Namekian who is towering head and shoulders above them yet is the weakest fighter out of all of them.

“Hey Dad do I get a super special important mission like them, do I?” Giddy with the prospect of the forthcoming battle due to the diluted Saiyan blood coursing through his veins Trunks eagerly runs up to his father’s side. Vegeta looks down on his only child, the last remnant he has remaining of Bulma, and mulls it over in his mind. He doesn’t want to needlessly risk his son’s life, having witnessed the death of Trunks before he does not want to go through that again, but his son is still a Saiyan and so by default has to be on the frontlines.

“Trunks, your assignment is the most important of all, you and Goten have the big task of … ensuring the safety of those three people over there. There lives are in your hands, go now and do your duty my son.” Totally enraptured by the enthusiasm and authority with which his father spoke with, Trunks and Goten hurry off to lay down their lives if need be for the people under their protection. Ryoko and Ayeka are not too thrilled however that Vegeta seems to think that children are needed to keep them safe from harm, no matter if they can turn super Saiyan or not.

“You guys better get ready, it’s here … and it looks like it brought friends with it.” Scratching his pitch black goatee Gohan looks at the spot that has grabbed everyone’s attention now stood next to his oldest friend and mentor. But a speck in the distance. A plume of dust ever growing and increasing in size, vast amounts of the ashes and dust scattering the floor thrown into the air in a massive plume behind the things approaching the steadfast warriors. The trail blazing behind the beasts begins to brew into a vicious sandstorm, raging towards them as are the small figures that can barely be made out on the floor.

“You young whippersnappers stand back, just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself. Let’s see if I’ve still got it.” Roshi hands his precious shades to Tien, the guy he trusts the most not to put them on for the fact they would be rendered useless by the additional eye in the triclops’ forehead. Bracing his legs apart he stands before all the younger and stronger warriors facing the adversaries and takes a deep breath.

His shirt erupts and flutters down to the floor in shreds. The muscles of the aged man doubling then tripling in size till he stands about a foot taller than Piccolo. Ayeka and Ryoko look amazed at this three hundred year old with the body of a giant, his back muscles rippling with raw power and ham sized fists coming together at his right hand side. His body swivels into the motion of the technique that took him 50 long years to develop and was widely acclaimed as the most powerful on Earth – but that was a long time ago, back when it was his name they shouted not Mr. Satan’s.

“KAaaaa…MEEeeee…HAAaaaa…MEeeeeee …” A glowing blue globe bursts into his hands. Dazzling azure light dances in his mighty fists, continually enlarging until his hands cannot hold the sphere anymore. Thrusting his tree sized arms forward and opening his palms at the onrushing horde.

“Huuurgghhheuaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” The turtle wave like a bolt of lightning from the gods of old shoots from his wrinkled hands tearing a cleft in the ground beneath were it travels, leaving a furrow 20m wide. The sapphire beam contacts with the animals beneath the sandstorm ploughing straight through and obliterating them all in a cerulean explosion that engulfs them all. Dispersing the mountainous sandstorm. Silence once again takes over the planet, no movement can be heard, no signs of life can be seen just a good sized divot still smoking.

That one attack used up roughly all of Roshi’s power, he cannot hope to add more to their effort then that attack as his wheezing lungs pant from the exertion. Planting his dinner plate sized palms on his thighs he calmly exhales slowly reversing his transformation to 100% power to a form much less cumbersome for fighting. His bushy white eyebrows and beard are plastered to his face and neck from sweat as he stands, more like David than the Goliath he was before.

“Woo wee I’m pooped, you guys can take it from here though I don’t know what you got so worked up about if I can kill it.” The topless old man retrieves his shades from the other chest baring man which he left in his possession, fluently putting them back on in a century long practised motion before parking himself down on the gritty floor to rest. Thinking it’s all over Ryoko and Ayeka leave their post at Dende’s side to celebrate the anticlimactic victory with Vegeta. Their merry cheering is met by silence as the warriors pay no heed to their joyfulness, instead the men fan out into a wide circle with the women, children and Dende at its centre.

Having only been able to recuperate himself for less then a minute Roshi flips onto his tired old feet, stretching and limbering up he takes his position at the gap between Piccolo and Buu. Ayeka looks around puzzled not sure why the men are still readying for battle when all the enemies lies incinerated in a crater a mile away, totally oblivious to the ki that Ryoko can detect surrounding them. Ryoko’s eyes widen in fear as her newfound sense is overloaded by such a large amount of ki signature’s so close and so powerful, encompassing them.

The shifting sands start to vibrate, a clever ruse by the enemy to send in a headlong charge to all but blind them from the swarm burrowing beneath the loose ground to box in the new prey that it has found. Limbs and heads crawl from the ground in their thousands and the fighters finally get a good look at what they came to put down and wipe from the galaxy. Such a massive host now stands before them waiting for some unseen signal to begin the besiegement of the universe’s finest.

“These skinny runts are what we came for, pathetic. I’ve seen more meat on a twig and houseplants that are tougher than these.” Vegeta scoffs thoroughly unimpressed by the small and skeletal state of what he had hoped would be a chance to show his strength, or at least a slight workout.

“HEY! Your houseplants aren’t that weak, they killed me once.” How could Yamcha forget his encounter with the Saibamen, a year of training down the drain due to a kamikaze attack and the grasping clutches of death. Night terrors still disturb him: the pasty green face with glowing red eyes cawing incomprehensibly before light engulfs them both and his body fried.

These small monstrosities aren’t too dissimilar from those home grown little green men from space. Long spindly limbs attached to a torso that has not an ounce of fat or muscle on it and so emphasising the large ribcage and broad bony shoulders of the critters. Two long whip like tails ceaselessly flicker behind their spined and ridged backs. A verdant green tongue lashes from the obsidian maw lined with many small and pointy fanged canines. The head of the beastie is an elongated crocodilian like snout, two nostrils at the end, no ears or hair but 4 phosphorescent dark emeralds glitter as they stare intently at their quarry with unblinking reptilian focus.

The gorilla like arms of the quadruped end in a two thumbed and two fingered hand, with one sickle like claw maliciously curving back towards its palms when it walks on its knuckles. As one the mass rises off of its forearms and stands semi upright like a primitive biped, its long legs featuring a wicked prong jutting from each knee and a massively oversized serrated claw impatiently tapping on the floor, cutting through the ground beneath it like a hot knife through butter. A shiver courses over the thick carapace of all the monsters, the coarse overlapping scales coating it more like the rough bark of a tree then that of any animal with verdant green pulsating through the sliver thin gaps between the plating.

Quickly deducing that they are dealing with a hive mind from the perfect synchronicity displayed between each individual animal the humanoid combatants prepare themselves for the coming storm. Right then left then right again, in complete harmony with all those around them arms thrust into the air letting loose fireballs hurtling into the sky. Blotting out the sun and the entire sky the heroes brace themselves in the shade as the flames reach the peak of their ark and accelerate down. Tien and Krillin break formation and spring into the air wafting their hands around them as ki shoots out to intercept all the weak missiles aimed at them. A successful flak laid down by the two humans easily halts the attack of the enemies. The fireballs themselves incinerated into ashes by pure energy. The two diversiform humans land back in their fighting positions around the defensive ring waiting for the next attack.

“It’s odd, I only detected one life force on this planet when I Instant Transmissioned us here. Can these things cloak their life force ‘cos I still can’t detect them and they certainly aren’t androids.” Goku was never the sharpest knife in the draw but his observation is one that all the others have been pondering on. A single extremely large energy is all they can sense yet their eyes tell them that there might be a few more than that. The question is how.

“Hmm, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I have no idea why it’s skewing with our ability to sense it … maybe it just reproduced itself asexually en masse creating a host of clones to battle us.” His white cloak now dirtied from the dust blowing in the breeze Piccolo voices his thoughts on this troublesome matter with the only thing he can think of – asexual reproduction being the way that Namekians breed.

Meanwhile back at a comfortable sofa on Sol 3 the brightest mind in the galaxy thinks over this problem before her. The hypothesis of Piccolo is greatly flawed if what Goku says is true. Replication on such a scale, even if exponential, would take a lot more time than the apparent amount of time by which the large reptilians were spawned. Though a sample of one or a month long study would greatly aid her research into this new species all she has to go on is the audio and video feed coming in at a 10 second delay – which saying they are well over 27,000 light years away is an accomplishment she wished the others would praise her for. Only one virus had she heard of that could replicate at that speed but scaling up to a complex organism such as this and she decides that reproduction cannot be the reason for the army facing these 15.

“Don’t be deceived Piccolo. These are all the same being, I’m sure of it. That faint trace in their ki signature, can’t you feel it … these are legion for they are many. Tien, looks like your not the only one to invent the multi form technique and this one seems to have a mastery of it I didn’t think was possible.” The scientist on the scene proclaims to his Namekian mentor and the others around him.

“Ha! Seems like we’re dealing with a bigger fool than Kakarot then. Dividing itself this many times and each individual is not even worth the effort … this is a slaughter, no not even that, this is target practise. Even the women here might be able to take them down and I was so looking forward to testing my mettle against something worthy.” Vegeta drops his guard and leaves the ring walking towards the centre as does Goku, neither wanting to be part of a battle so beneath them in terms of power.

In spite of the man of their dreams being stood a lot closer to them, it doesn’t ease the growing sense of trepidation that Ayeka and Ryoko feel. Looking around them all they see is the multitude of green and black, the glinting claws and glowing eyes. Roshi shares their apprehension knowing himself to be the weakest link in the chain and that being emphasised after the Kamehameha wave he cast that sapped most of his strength.

“Come on guys, what you waiting for? I say we stick it too them and show these things what we’re capable of.” With that the husband of 18 launches off into the fray, glancing back at his wife as he does so. Not wanting to be outdone all the others, save the two Saiyans, rush the clawed horrors for their chance of blood or glory against the insurmountable odds. Vegeta’s prediction proves to be 100% correct.

The five foot tall father is the first to land a hit on the unlucky individual of the army before him he singled out, this one punch smashes its whole chest cavity and whatever organs were inside into a amber mush slowly seeping out of its scales. Krillin’s other hand raises to the dark sky and traces a quick circle before flinging his Destructo-Disk. It leaves a truly horrific wake behind it of bisected or decapitated abnormalities and a score more of badly mutilated creatures struggling to survive the horrendous amputations the razor sharp ki attack dealt them.

The sounds of battle bring life to the silent planet; cries of the dead and dying grotesques, squeals of pain and from those of Earth only the shouts of their signature moves they are utilising to devastating effect against such insubstantial foes. Gooey orange sap sticks to Tien’s fists as he splays his fingers in front of his third eye for his Solar Flare needlessly handicapping the already doomed foes he is facing before they meet their quick end. More and more of the amber gloop coats the dust of the battleground. Lucky for Yamcha that his gi is already orange or else the bloodshed he has caused with his wolf fang fists would have dyed any other garment to that colour. His mind not caring about the life juices of those he crushes in his might or how none of them seem to be putting up any attempts of notable resistance bar trying in a futile attempt to block the savage kicks and strikes he lays down on them.

Gohan and Piccolo stand back to back in the midst of the host they came to this barren rock in space to cleanse from existence. Two of Piccolo’s fingers are brought down from his head as he shoots out his arm. It stops mere inches from the petrified quadruped before he elongates his arm as if it were made of rubber, his clawed fingers impaling that of the one before him and skewering a dozen more unfortunates. Now his limb resembles more a kebab then an arm before he unleashes the Special Beam Cannon he charged up prior, disintegrating still more of the greatly decreasing numbers of the enemies. Gohan sees this and cricks his neck to the side, not looking at the fiends he calmly raises his left palm and over a hundred beings suddenly erupt in flame. The burning remains of them rain down like embers by a bonfire on the few surviving enemies left.

Not wanting to dirty themselves in the bloodbath ensuing below them the sibling cyborgs rain hellfire down, ki blasts homing and seeking the stragglers out. An extra layer of ashes falls over the sap / blood pooling on the dry ground. Craters, body parts, ruts in the ground and unrecognisable burning fragments is all that is left of the mighty host.

The battle, if it can be called that for it was so one sided, is over. The last body has fallen to the ground, ready for the shifting sands of the desert to take it back from whence it came. It lasted a minute at maximum and proved little challenge to all except for Roshi who unlike the others had to duel one on one with each gorilla armed adversary to be assured victory against it. All the fighters are now spread out far and wide across the desolate and battered plains, covered in the unusual gluey gore as a reminder of the massacre they partook in. Separated from one another in their own personal melees and brawls.