She should have killed Radditz while she'd had the chance. Now he'd gained his second wind, and the other Saiya-jin---Nappa the butcher, she recalled, commander of the Prince's troops---had joined him, both of their auras blending into one great blaze as they faced her. Even with both of them attacking, she might have been able to stand against them if they'd fought as individuals . . . but it was obvious that they had experience in working together during a fight before. Probably during whatever training Vejiita had put them through, she reflected angrily. It made no difference; the bottom line was that they were beating the hell out of her, and there wasn't much that she could do about it.
She would have swayed had she been standing. They'd been attacking her in unison now for a while, and she hurt all over her body from their blows. Distantly she worried about Trunks; his ki was getting weaker and weaker, and he probably needed some sort of medical attention, but she knew that these two would never allow her to take him back to the Capsule Corporation. The regeneration tank might be his only hope at this point. Although she wasn't ready to admit it to herself, she was afraid, both for Trunks and for herself. Things were not looking good.
They knew they had her. Grinning, they came at her again; she engaged Radditz while trying to keep a measure of her attention on Nappa, who was circling around behind her---there! He was attacking--- She smashed her fist into Radditz's face to incapacitate him for a moment, and turned to catch Nappa's fist, sending him one of her own in retaliation. But Radditz recovered, and as they'd done about fifty times at this point, he slammed his fists into her from the back while Nappa laid into her front, between the two of them buffetting her helplessly and painfully back and forth. She fought for breath after Nappa hit her in the midriff, then lost it again after Radditz smashed her in the back, and then couldn't do anything but gasp as Nappa hooked her in the face. They paused for a moment, backing off to let her breathe---the bastards, they were playing with her---and then they attacked her again. After a few more moments of this they let her fall to the ground, smashing through a piece of concrete as she landed in a sprawling heap.
Above her, Nappa and Radditz smiled down at her as one, and nodded to each other. Then they joined hands like children jumping on a trampoline, and dropped down onto Shiatar's unprotected body feet-first.
She'd been half-dazed, trying to clear her head, when the shadow fell over her---she looked up just in time to scream as they landed on her. Radditz's feet drove into her chest and face, cutting off her scream; Nappa's pounded squarely into her belly. She coughed in agony as they were gone, bouncing up to the same height again, and could only watch and brace herself as they came down again. And again.
And again.
Trunks leaned forward and nearly fainted from the pain, as he struggled to see what was happening to Shiatar. When his head cleared---reluctantly---he gasped in shock; Radditz and Nappa had turned killing her into a game. He tried to cry out to her as they came down again, warn her to get out of the way, but she was beyond hearing at this point. He could see blood gouting from between her lips with each terrible blow, but her eyes were shut---and to his utter horror, her hair was its normal jet-black. She had lost the power of the Super Saiya-jin---and the protection that that power gave her, with its defensive boost. Another few blows, and she would be dead.
He started forward, and actually managed to move up a few inches on the metal pipes that transfixed his body before the pain overwhelmed him; he felt a sudden desire to retch and tasted blood in his mouth before the sensation passed, and he clutched weakly at one of the pipes. He could do nothing. Shiatar would die before his very eyes. And there was not one damned thing he could do about it.
Despairing, he slumped on the pipes, sending fresh pain throughout his body, but that was nothing compared to the pain inside him. He couldn't let her die---he'd seen too much death in his years, looked into too many sightless, staring eyes. The sight of Gohan's corpse flashed through his mind again, and he gasped against the fury that accompanied that vision. The Cyborgs had taken his best friend from him; now these two bastards were about take someone else that he'd fought alongside, someone else he . . . loved.
He shuddered as two kinds of pain and a hot, bitter anger surged through him. This would not happen. He would not allow it. Not again; he'd been too young and too weak to help Gohan, but he was not a boy any longer . . . and he was not weak . . .
Trunks closed his eyes, lowering his head. He knew the barrier; it had been there, closed and barred in the back of his mind, since he'd learned the true nature of power after Gohan's death. Then, as a boy, it had frightened him, the great, awful surging presence he sensed behind that door, and justifiably; the power had been far too much for him to control at the time. But he was older now, and much stronger, and he knew the ways of power. The key to the door was anger. He had plenty of that; in fact, he'd never truly tapped the core of emotion within himself, not completely. That core had disturbed him on a fundamental level; he'd never liked the inhuman, black fury that hid there, rearing its ugly head whenever he lowered his guard. The anger he tapped to become a Super Saiya-jin was cleaner, somehow. But clean anger was not what he needed. He needed hate. He needed savagery. He needed all that was darkest and most dangerous within himself. He needed . . . his father.
He opened his eyes, and smiled a small, deadly smile beneath the curtain of his hair as understanding came. He'd always been uncomfortable with the idea of his father, from the stories he'd managed to coax out of his mother of Vejiita's first days on Earth to the time he'd met the man. Everything he'd heard and observed about the prince had made him wonder if he had the same potential for evil. But he simply hadn't understood: Vejiita wasn't evil; his power and strength---both physical and spiritual--- came from the darkness inside himself. The same darkness existed within Trunks---it existed within everyone, and the only evil in such darkness lay in how an individual used it. It had taken him years to understand that; he'd always feared that the darkness would consume him, overwhelm him and transform him into some power-mad monster. But his father had conquered that threat long ago, and had shown him the way: Vejiita controlled his darkness. The ability to hate, bloodlust, sheer unthinking rage . . . his father had often embraced those emotions completely, but used them, manipulated them for his own purposes. Now . . . now Trunks had need of his own darkness. And at last, he knew exactly what to do with it.
The cry started softly, all that his tortured lungs could produce at first, but the power had a voice of its own. The voice rose from the pit of his belly and touched his heart, igniting it to a hot, furnace-like fury; it surged into his limbs, and gave him strength; it swelled in his throat and turned his soft cry into an insane, howling roar. It touched his mind, and blew the doorway wide open.
Radditz halted Nappa on the upswing of another devastating jump, and they drifted to a landing to the side of Shiatar's body this time. Nappa curled his tail fastidiously around his waist, looking down at the wide, cracked depression in the earth and its occupant. Her ki was still present, but fluctuating wildly. Radditz smiled, and reached into the crater to pull Shiatar out; the woman dangled limply from his grasp. He turned her about, and curled his lip; she'd vomited blood all over herself at some point and it covered her face and stained her black tank a darker black.
"She looks like she's dead already," Radditz complained.
"She's still alive. Have you had enough, Radditz? I'd really like to get back now."
Radditz smirked, and eyed his companion. "You have no sense of fun, Nappa. No," and he tossed Shiatar onto a concrete slab nearby; she rolled a few feet before stopping, "I haven't quite had enough yet. There's the little matter of the eye she took from me, and the arm, and the leg. I plan to take them back, my dear Commander of the Army. An eye for an eye, and all that. Care to watch?" Radditz cracked his knuckles.
"The Prince said he wanted her alive, Radditz."
Radditz turned and walked toward Shiatar. The demi-Saiyin woman had revived somewhat; she was tossing her head, moaning softly, and Radditz glanced back over his shoulder at his companion. "She'll live," he said, with an edged smile.
But at that moment, they both started, as their senses detected the presence of a large and rapidly growing energy-signature, its aura laced with pure violence; in the same moment the earth around them began to shake. Buildings already made unstable by the battle shifted in response, settling to the ground and raising great clouds of dust. And suddenly they both heard it: a human voice rising in a cry of mingled rage and insanity, curiously doubled with a deeper, deadlier voice that was anything but human.
Nappa stepped up to stand beside Radditz; the lion-maned warrior had taken a step back in surprise. "What the hell is that?" Radditz asked, his eyes widening.
Nappa shook his head, focusing on his Scouter; the eyepiece was reacting to something and it disturbed him deeply. The device had been reconfigured for Super Saiya-jin power levels, and yet the numbers were going off the scale . . . "I have no idea," he replied to his companion. "But I can feel a ki strong enough to destroy the whole galaxy---"
The dust-clouds faded at last, and both Nappa and Radditz took a step back in shock.
Shiatar had never known pain like this in her life. Floating in a miasma of it, she struggled toward consciousness, swimming toward the surface of her own mind. She tried to open her eyes, and found them crusted with blood. It took her a few moments to get them open, and she almost cried when she did; the sight of the sky helped her reach full awareness, and the awareness of the extent of her injuries hit her all at once. It was a wonder that she wasn't dead already.
And she could hear the voices of her executioners nearby. Damn them---here she lay dying and they sounded as if they were discussing the latest arena contest results. She struggled to sit up and gritted her teeth, feeling fresh pain; her senses were so confused that it felt as if the ground was shaking. She could hear a ringing, or perhaps more accurately a roaring, in her ears; it sounded as if an angry chorus was shouting at the top of its lungs. She didn't blame them. As badly as she hurt right now, she'd like to join them.
But as she managed to climb to her hands and knees and crouched there, gasping for air around the terrible grating sensation in her chest, she slowly realized that the roaring and the shaking weren't hallucinations; as her head cleared she suddenly became aware of a ki of volcanic proportions, great enough to dwarf the energy of the sun---and still climbing. And the signature of that ki was shockingly familiar . . .
With a start, she looked up, and saw then what Radditz and Nappa had seen.
Trunks was still impaled on the pipes, but as she watched his body was drifting forward slowly, pulling him off of the cruel spikes; that wasn't what made her mouth open in awe. What shocked her was the immense, blazing aura that had flared around him, far greater than anything she'd ever seen from him before; its energy was so great that it crackled around him like lightning, and the energy had so charged his body that he had grown again, both his jacket and his tank in tatters on the ground at his feet. Every inch of his body was outlined in light, from the chiselled lines of his torso to the planes of his face, and in spite of his injuries he was screaming, his back arching and fists clenching with the power that flowed through him and from him. He straightened abruptly, and she saw that he'd become a Super Saiya-jin, his eyes blazing sapphire and his long hair turned gold with the power. How can that be? she wondered, her mind almost numb. The collar . . . and this is too much power for even a Super Saiya-jin . . .
Trunks stopped screaming, but his expression was utterly frightening still; his lips had drawn back from his teeth in a silent snarl, and his brows were drawn together over murderous eyes. Through his teeth, he growled, and with a sudden, echoing "clink," the restraining collar around his neck snapped open, and disintegrated into nothingness. To Shiatar's shock, she realized that his hair had changed from its usual Super Saiya-jin pattern; it stood completely erect on his head, in a flaring pattern that reminded her, suddenly, of Prince Vejiita. If Trunks had had a widow's peak, she wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between father and son.
His feet touched the ground gently, and he stood with arms apart, facing Radditz and Nappa. His power still scintillated around him, occasionally thowing up little lightning bolts; the anger faded from his face, but he did not smile. "Shiatar," he said suddenly, startling her; she staggered to her feet.
His head turned to focus on her, completely ignoring the two Saiya-jin, and his eyes were flat and hard. She gasped. It was as if a stranger looked out at her through his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, in a voice completely without emotion.
Shiatar swallowed. "I've seen better days. And . . . you?"
His head swiveled back mechanically; and his eyes fixed on Radditz and Nappa. "I'm fine, Ko-san. Just fine."
If she hadn't heard it, she might not have believed it, but the moment he turned away from her, he changed subtly; to her he had been almost emotionless, like an automaton, but as he focused on Radditz and Nappa, she heard a note of pure malevolence enter his voice, and although his face never changed, his eyes as he looked at them were dark with a frightening anticipation.
"This is another lesson for you, Shiatar, although I am no longer your teacher," Trunks said softly, still looking at them. "I have moved beyond Super Saiya-jin. Watch carefully." He focused on one of the pair before him. "I am my father's son, Nappa."
Shiatar didn't see Trunks begin his movement. She only saw him suddenly in front of Nappa, and the unnatural bulge that suddenly grew in the giant warrior's back as Trunks' fist drove into the middle of his abdomen. The big Saiya-jin didn't even have time to cry out. He doubled over, his eyes widening as the bulge in his back grew larger, impossibly large, until it seemed that Trunks' fist would soon come ravening out of his back---
The massive ki that enveloped Trunks suddenly flexed, and Nappa exploded.
Shiatar flinched, leaping back in shock, as Radditz was blown backward to her feet by the force of the explosion. It had happened in an instant; for one moment Nappa had been there, his body outlined in the same light that surrounded Trunks' form, and then that light had flared . . . now only a rapidly dissipating smoke was testament to the warrior's demise. She stared, awed.
Trunks stood in the same position, his hand still upraised. His expression, her dazed mind noted, had not changed.
Radditz stumbled backward, kicking dust in his effort to back away from this nightmare that had killed the mighty Nappa in the blink of an eye. He bumped into Shiatar's legs, and startled her from her trance.
She jumped away from him, falling instinctively into a combat crouch, and he got to his feet, doing the same and glaring at her. But both of them froze, turning, as Trunks moved, straightening. He looked down at the place where Nappa had been---there were only a few ashes there, now---and although his face was frighteningly blank, Shiatar thought she saw a look of satisfaction in his eyes. He turned his head, flat eyes focusing on Radditz.
Shiatar tensed. As amazing as Trunks' transformation had been, she couldn't let him fight her battles for her. And she had a score to settle; without Nappa around to help him double-team her, she had a fighting chance. "No, Trunks. He's mine."
The pale eyes focused on her. "You're injured."
"No, I said! I can take him. I could take him if I was missing an arm, a leg, and an eye." Radditz glared at her; she smiled cruelly. "He's mine."
The shimmering head nodded once, regally; the sinewed arms folded, calmly; and Trunks did not move.
Radditz bared his teeth as he focused on her. "You should have let him finish it," he said, tail lashing like an angry cat's. "You'd live longer."
Shiatar clenched her fists and crouched lower. "I owe you a debt of vengeance, Radditz, and I pay my debts myself." Exerting her will, she shifted back to Super Saiya-jin, glad that the power boost made her injuries seem to hurt less. For all her bravado, she would have to win this one quickly; her energy would last only so long before her body betrayed her. Radditz wasn't nearly as bad off as she was.
Radditz nodded. As one, they leaped into the sky, and began.
He pressed the attack immediately, clearly aware that she had been weakened and seeking to take advantage of that. She exchanged blows with him, both of them darting from place to place, their respective auras crackling where they met, but the battle was even from the very start. For all his strength, Radditz could not land a blow on her; nor could she on him, for all her speed. They fought on, and on, neither one gaining an advantage over the other.
And now she was tiring, as at last her reserves began to run out. Radditz smiled at her, sensing it, and disengaged from her. "You're growing weak," he spat at her. "Have you finally realized that you cannot defeat a true warrior?"
Shiatar bared her teeth, trying not to notice how out of breath she was, or how the ache in her belly had grown into a spreading, fiery throb. "I notice that you've had some trouble yourself," she snapped at him. "I seem to recall that you were afraid that killing me would be too quick."
Radditz snarled. "I've already had my fun with you, remember?" He smiled, wickedly.
Fury surged through her, lending her a momentary increase in strength, and she brought her hands together. "Never again, you bastard, never again!"
Her rage shaped her ki, and she fired a tremendous blast at him. Shouting incoherently, Radditz fired one of his own, and the energies met in mid-air, forming a huge, rippling ball of power. Stalemate. Gritting her teeth, Shiatar concentrated, straining with the effort of maintaining her power level; Radditz laughed. "You're tired, Ko Shiatar!" he shouted. "You've barely got the strength to keep aloft---what makes you think you can beat me?"
His ki increased as he gloated, and the huge ball inched closer to her. She felt a surge of fear; the power of this ball was so great that if it touched her, it would destroy her. But she couldn't lose this contest, she couldn't be defeated by him again.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated, and felt rather than saw the massive ball inch toward him. Radditz stopped laughing, and redoubled his efforts; suddenly Shiatar felt herself giving way. She was so tired; her body hurt all over from the pounding she'd taken. It would be so easy, whispered a part of her mind, to just let go, to just drop her arms and give up . . .
No way in hell, she thought furiously at herself. This man hurt you, he humiliated you, he's trying to do the same thing again and you want to give up?
She opened her eyes, feeling hatred flare and surge within her. Channeling it out and into her hands, she watched the great crackling ball of power stop---it was only a few meters away from her---then begin moving again, in his direction. As it got closer, Radditz snarled and fought back, sending everything he had into his counterattack; the ball slowed to a halt, a few meters in front of him.
But Shiatar would not be thwarted. "Not---this---time, Radditz!" she hissed between clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a surge of energy. The Saiya-jin's eyes widened as the ball inched closer. "I'll---be---DAMNED---if---you---come---back---to haunt me---THIS TIME!!"
The power surged wildly within her, and she sent it at him with all her might. Radditz screamed---and the ball blasted into him, overwhelming him in a titanic concussion that momentarily dwarfed the sun in brilliance. And then, Radditz the Minister of Intelligence, also known as the master of the Inquisitors, the Torturer, the Elite warrior, and Shiatar's very own private demon . . . was gone.
Trunks watched Shiatar descend to the ground slowly, her back to him; she'd powered down now, and her black hair blew in the wind. She did not move for a long time.
"So you've rid yourself of your nightmares," he said softly.
"Yes." She took a deep breath; Trunks noted that she flinched visibly when her body reminded her of its injuries. "I thought it would feel different. I thought I would feel some kind of happiness."
He folded his arms, and began to step his power down; his hair dropped a bit as he returned to the first level of power. "What do you feel?"
She shook her head. "Just . . . resignation. Some relief. That's all. I . . . expected more."
Trunks' hair dropped completely, falling into its customary curtain around his head, and he stepped forward, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. "You used to feel nothing at all, when you killed opponents in the arena," he reminded her. "I'd say that's an improvement." She chuckled bitterly, and he smiled, although she couldn't see it. "I know how it feels, Shiatar-san. To win something and feel like you haven't won anything at all. It means that you still have a soul."
She frowned, turning to look at him. "It's true," he said. "What kind of person would you be to take pleasure in killing? You would be no better than your enemies."
Her emerald eyes blinked, and he was pleased to see that something, at least had changed---there had been a shadow in her eyes that was no longer there. She smiled, lowering her eyes in a way that was almost shy. "Maybe not," she said softly, "but I won't lie; I'm glad the bastard's dead. Maybe I'm a bad person because of it, but it's true."
Trunks laughed, and almost fainted as the pain of the holes in his body returned with a vengeance. Shiatar gasped, and caught him, supporting him with her shoulder as he almost fell, and he nodded gratefully to her. "You . . . you're not a bad person," he gasped. "If you didn't feel that, at least, you'd be stupid. Or dead."
She chuckled herself, and winced as pain rippled through her. "Let's . . . get back," she stammered. "We'll have to flip . . . to see who gets to go into the regeneration tank first."
Wearily, leaning on each other, they made their way back to the Capsule Corporation.
Trunks and Shiatar have defeated their enemies, and each has found a new inner strength as a result. Now Shiatar must return to her world---will Trunks accompany her? Or will Shiatar make another decision? In the next episode, PEACE AT LAST; BUT FOR THE LAST WARRIOR?
