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The Narcissian boy blinked, his eyelashes, (one of his favourite aspects of his face) fluttering. A small river of cold sweat ran down his face, and he wiped it away gently with a light aqua hand. The red sunlight of dawn was shining onto his bed through the window, casting light and shadow in frightening patterns on the marble floor. “Must get my beauty sleep,” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore the fear rushing through him like water. He rolled over, his deep green plait had become uncomfortable against his head. But he couldn’t go back to sleep. The nightmare had been too real. The stranger, so different from himself, had seemed almost like a vision. The destruction, so complete, so terrifying, had seemed like an awful apocalyptic future no sane mind could invent. It was as though all the destruction from every war ever fought on Narcissia had been added together and then multiplied a hundred times. And it had all felt so real. Like a memory of the past. Or of the future. The boy didn’t know how right he was. Frieza, the evil tyrant responsible for the deaths of so many races, looked down at the green planet below. He laughed his insane laugh. “Ha ha ha!” he said. “That pathetic planet, spawn a potential great warrior? Only a fool would believe such nonsense!” “Lord Frieza, please pardon me for interrupting, but I think you will find…” The tall, muscular dark blue-haired warrior standing beside her leader stopped abruptly at a look from Frieza. “What will I find, Veda?” Frieza asked silkily. “Nothing, nothing at all,” said the lackey, whose name was apparently Veda. “It was clearly not nothing at all, or you wouldn’t have bothered to speak. Now tell me what you were going to say.” The tone in Frieza’s voice was an unspoken threat. “I was going to say… uh… this planet, its people are technologically inferior, that is true. But one boy, he has untapped power, our newly developed scouters tell us that,” Veda said. She was worried about Frieza’s reaction, he certainly wasn’t an easy boss to work for. His subjects tended to end up dead. “Is that so?” Frieza said quietly, leaving a long pause just so he could enjoy Veda’s panic. “Well, I suppose it might be fun to destroy this place, just for entertainment’s sake. I haven’t blown up a planet for quite a while.” Veda sighed, not even bothering to disguise her relief. She walked towards the door. “Oh, and Veda,” Frieza called after her, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “Yes, my Lord?” “Next time, I may be forced to punish you for insolence. If this child is as powerful as you say he is, he’ll make a perfectly good servant instead of you. You have been warned.” Veda, who was really not normally a coward, shivered involuntarily. Any punishment from Frieza wasn’t likely to be very enjoyable. And if she was replaced as his right hand woman, she knew that she would be killed, if not by Frieza as sport, but by the new lackey instead as a possible threat. Being in Frieza’s army was enough to make anyone a bit paranoid. As the rays of dawn were replaced by orange daylight, the Narcissian boy, still awake from the terror of his nightmare, got up, dressed in his usual lavender and pink clothes and put on his jewellery. It was unthinkable in Narcissian society that anyone could ever go outside without wearing jewellery. The males tended to wear more than the females, however. Jewellery was usually thought of as an indicator of class; the more a Narcissian wore, the higher he or she was considered to be. Narcissian society was very complicated, but there were ten distinct classes, ranging from the lowest of the low, who should not be ever spoken to by any other Narcissian, apart from others of their rank, to highest rank Narcissians, who were bowed to by anyone who encountered them in the street. The high ranks often were related to the ruler of the Narcissians, Narcon. Zarbon, being quite a high up Narcissian, the second cousin four times removed of the High One Narcon, wore a fair bit of jewellery. He had pierced ears, and a very intricate headband. Sometimes he would wear a bracelet or an anklet to a special occasion. Zarbon went down the black stone stairs, and entered the dining room. “Good morning,” he said politely to his parents. It was the usual accepted greeting for a Narcissian. “Good morning,” they said in reply. Zarbon sat down at the cold white marble table, and drank the usual Narcissian breakfast, which was a broth-like soup made from a type of grass. The normally quite edible soup tasted disgusting, Zarbon was still sickened from his nightmare and it somehow felt wrong to be eating. The people in his nightmare hadn’t been eating. He put down his stone bowl after a few sips. He tried to slide his chair out from under the table as quietly as possible. Of course, Murphy’s Law struck, and it screeched loudly against the marble floor. His parents turned round, and then looked at each other, worry evident in their faces. Normally their son would gulp down his soup with enthusiasm. “Zarbon?” his father asked cautiously. “You haven’t eaten your soup.” “Oh… I’m not hungry,” Zarbon said. His parents exchanged another meaningful look. This time, his mother decided to speak. “Zarbon, are you OK?” she asked. “You haven’t brushed your hair, and your headband is on backwards. Your shirt is inside out too.” “I’M FINE!” he yelled, proving that he wasn’t. “NOTHING IS WRONG! I JUST FORGOT TO BRUSH MY HAIR AND WASN’T HUNGRY! SINCE WHEN WAS THAT CONSIDERED A CRIME?” “Ever since you came into being,” his father said dryly. “Zarbon, yesterday, you would have gone berserk if you had one hair out of place. Now you have your shirt on inside out and you don’t think it’s abnormal at all. Please tell us what’s wrong.” “What if I don’t want to?” Zarbon asked. And with that, he jumped out the window, not realising he was flying at all. His parents fainted simultaneously. Zarbon jerked in mid-air as though he had just been given an electric shock. “I’M FLYING!” he yelled. Lucky for him, he was flying over a deserted swampland, one of a large area of swamps on the very wet planet Narcissia. No-one would hear him. “Now this is cool!” he said to himself. “How many other people can fly?” “Many,” a voice said quietly in his ear. He jumped again, this time nearly falling out of the air. There was a woman flying next to him. A woman who most certainly wasn’t a Narcissian. Her orange skin proved that. “Who… what are you?” Zarbon asked. Another shock for the Narcissian in what had been a day full of surprises. “Who and what I am are not your concern. But what I am here for is. Zarbon, I’m a member of an elite army. We have discovered your great power, and wish for you to join us. Come with me, and you’ll be able to do things much more wonderful than flying,” she whispered. “I will?” he asked. “You have the power. You can do anything you want to do. You can even change your form.” “Change… my form?” “Anything and everything is possible.” “OK… I’ll come,” Zarbon said. “But can I say goodbye to my parents?” “No. I’m sorry. There’s no time.” “Ah…” Zarbon said. He was beginning to be a bit suspicious. Surely he should be able to tell his parents where he was going. “I guess I won’t come then.” “You have no choice,” the woman snarled. She grabbed him and dealt a quick, hard blow to his head that knocked him out instantly. A few hours later, Zarbon was on Frieza’s ship, bound and tied, being inspected by the tyrant himself. “Hmm…” Frieza said. “I’m not sure I agree with your decision on this one, Veda. It’s so weak, and fragile. Look at the jewellery.” Zarbon spluttered angrily at this. His jewellery was beautiful, and no ugly purple and white monster was going to tell him otherwise. He spat out his gag angrily. “I AM NOT WEAK, YOU UGLY MONSTER! MY JEWELLERY IS AN INDICATION OF MY CLASS! YOU WEAR NO JEWELLERY, SO AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED, YOU ARE THE LOWEST OF THE LOW!” he screamed. “Ah!” Frieza cried out. “I see now, Veda! Do you feel the power increase! Yes this one will make a perfect little pet.” “PET? I’M NOBODY’S PET!” Zarbon yelled. “Pathetic little creature, aren’t you? No, you’re going to be my new one-man fighting force. And your first assignment…” Frieza smirked evilly and his gaze fell on Veda. “Is to eliminate that space-trash. She annoys me.” “What?” Zarbon asked, all his anger now forgotten, a sense of foreboding overwhelming him. “Eliminate. Kill,” Frieza snapped. Zarbon’s eyes grew. “No… no… I can’t do that! That’s wrong, that’s despicable…” “That’s life,” Frieza interrupted. “Kill or be killed. Make the choice, pet.” “I don’t even know HOW to kill someone.” “Well you’ll just have to learn then,” Frieza snarled. “Veda!” he ordered at the quivering servant. “Y…y…yes, Lord Frieza,” she stammered. “Destroy that child’s planet. NOW!” “Y…y…yes,” she stammered again. She went out onto the bridge and powered up a Death Ball. Frieza liked using this attack himself, the five minutes it took to power up were a perfectly good amount of time to torture members of the race. “NO!” screamed Zarbon. “You can’t do this! Do you not value innocent lives?” “Not really, no,” said Frieza. “I couldn’t care less about your pitiable little planet. Anyway, this will make a stunning light show!” He laughed his terrible laugh again. Zarbon had to strain himself so he wouldn’t cry. He prided himself on never crying. It made his face look ugly. Finally, the Death Ball was completely charged. Veda, ever the obedient servant, waited for an order from Frieza. “Well? What are you waiting for?” the tyrant asked impatiently. “Hurry up!” “Yes Lord Frieza,” agreed Veda. She moved her finger, directing the huge orange ball of ki towards Zarbon’s planet. Slowly, agonisingly, it crept downwards towards Planet Narcissia. A terrible anger rushed through Zarbon. His hands balled up into fists, his long nails cutting into his skin and drawing blood. Without even meaning to, he transformed into a reptilian monster, a manifestation of his terrible fury. The transformation snapped the ropes binding him to the table. “Ah!” Zarbon screamed. “I’m hideous!” But he still felt the tremendous power running through him. Then he saw the Death Ball ram into his planet. The destruction from his terrible dream was coming true. There was a huge explosion where the ki impacted, and huge cracks appeared in the planet’s surface, showing molten rock below. All that was over in a few seconds, and the planet disappeared in a flash of light, leaving nothing to indicate it had even been there at all. Something snapped in Zarbon then. All of his ideals about living disappeared, leaving him to his fury. He roared, and shot a huge ki blast at Veda, disintegrating her immediately. He then turned on Frieza, who simply smirked at him, blocked the ki, and hit him over the head. Again, Zarbon was knocked out. Zarbon’s amber eyes blinked open. He was back in his normal form, but he had been dressed in strange clothes. He was wearing armour like Veda’s had been. Its shoulder pads and stomach area were bronzy brown, and the rest of it was an off-white colour. He had also been given a dark blue spandex suit, like a leotard. His thigh-length legwarmers were the same colour. He was also wearing a light blue cape, which he liked. It looked regal. On Narcissia, the High One Narcon wore a lavender cape. He had been allowed to keep his jewellery and the undamaged sleeves of his former clothes. All the rage gone from him, the Narcissian felt drained and empty. “Ah, you’re awake, are you?” a voice above him said. Zarbon blinked again, and a figure swam into view above him. It was a tall, orange creature, with long blue hair. “Yes,” Zarbon replied. He wasn’t sure whether the figure was male or female. He looked at her closely, narrowing his eyes, and decided that she had to be female. She didn’t wear any jewellery. “Look, you had a pretty hard bump on the head. You might want to have a rest before you go to your next planet,” she said kindly. “Next planet? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zarbon said, confused. “Oh! You’re that new recruit! You’re to be Frieza’s right-hand man. Dear me!” she cried, and fell over. “What? I’m to be right hand man of that… that… MONSTER?” Zarbon screamed. “Yes, you are. And take my advice, don’t EVER make him angry. You won’t survive if you do,” the alien nurse whispered, picking herself up from the floor. “But I HATE him! He destroyed my world. He killed all my people! I don’t WANT to work for him!” “You have no choice. He will kill you if you don’t work for him. He has no use for you otherwise, and what Frieza doesn’t need, he disposes of.” Zarbon felt a tear fall down his face. “Dear boy!” said the nurse, wiping away his tears with a hand. “How old are you?” she asked curiously. “I’m twelve,” Zarbon replied sniffily. The nurse sighed. “Another young one,” she said sadly. “You know, Veda was only fifteen when Frieza took her. She was his first ever servant.” Zarbon raised his eyebrows. “Was Veda the tall one who had skin and hair like yours?” he asked. “Oh,” said Zarbon. He was so ashamed of killing the woman now. What had happened hadn’t been her fault. It had all been the fault of Frieza. “I know you killed her,” Veda’s mother said, as though she had read Zarbon’s thoughts. “It’s okay. She destroyed your home, you had a right to be angry. Zarbon sighed. He got up from his hospital-like bed and flipped his plait over his shoulder, they way he liked it. “Look, don’t tell anyone about this,” the woman said. “I’m not supposed to be looking after anyone, I'm a cleaning slave here. But I can’t stand anyone being hurt, and I know Frieza was going to put you in one of those wretched machines. Stupid things, all that ‘DNA’ nonsense…” Zarbon interrupted the motherly alien woman’s rant. “Look, I’ve got to go. I need to find a way to get out of here,” he said. “You don’t have a chance,” she replied. “If you even tried to escape, Frieza will set his warriors on you. Do you want to know what happens to anyone who leaves this ship?” Zarbon didn’t say anything. “Well, they get caught by Frieza’s personal warriors, he has thousands of them, so it’s not worth it to even try to fight, and then brought to his torture chamber. I have no idea what happens in there, but I’m pretty sure it’s not an enjoyable experience.” Zarbon shivered, but pretended he wasn’t afraid. “They won’t catch me,” he said determinedly. “They will,” said the slave. “They will,” she repeated, so there could be no doubt about her statement. There was a long pause. Zarbon, sick of the tension, left the room, slamming the door behind him. Even as an adult, Zarbon never knew why he had such bad luck as to step straight into Frieza's throne room. Wandering around the ship hadn’t been one of the most fun experiences of his life, every corridor looked the same, and tall as the Narcissian was for his age, everyone he met looked down at him like he was the scum of the universe. He followed a conveyor belt like hallway, and found a door. It was closed. It looked like the one he had exited, so he knocked, hoping Veda’s kind mother would open it. Instead, it opened by itself, and he saw the room he had been in when his planet had been destroyed. He gasped, and turned to leave. “Stay,” a voice said. “What?” Zarbon asked incredulously. “Who are you to order me around? I’m going to do what I want.” Frieza, who was of course the person in the chair, snarled and turned around. His poisonous look made Zarbon shake in his bronze boots. “I am the only one ever orders anyone around here,” he said. “I am Lord Frieza, and you’d better not ever forget it.” The tone in the Changeling’s voice was one of obvious threat. “You!” Zarbon yelled. Frieza ignored him, and spoke into a small speaker. “Hador, I have you a new prodigy,” he said. “Be careful, he’s rather difficult, we had some problems with him before.” “My Lord, I’m sure I will be able to handle him,” a voice replied emotionlessly. “Good.” Frieza pressed a button abruptly, which Zarbon guessed hung up the speaker. “Come on kid!” encouraged Hador. “You can do better than that!” Zarbon clenched his fists even tighter, and powered up more. He enjoyed training, even if Hador could be a harsh teacher. Hador was trying to get him to go to transform, but Zarbon couldn’t find the anger he had felt again. The memory of the destruction of his word was just that now - a memory. It wasn’t fresh in his mind, and that affected his anger about it. Zarbon sighed, and powered down. “What? Why did you do that? You were nearly there!” Hador said. “You know I wasn’t,” Zarbon replied. “I never will be. I give up.” “GIVE UP?” Hador thundered. “You don’t give up! That’s what Veda did, and look where it got her!” This was obviously a touchy subject, because Zarbon flinched. He pretended he wasn’t insulted. He knew Hador didn’t know the truth about what had happened in Frieza’s throne room. He had heard a lot of the stories passed down through the ranks of Frieza’s officers, and these tended to be either ‘enhanced’ or simply a pack of lies. “Well, maybe hell is better than here anyway,” he said. Hador looked stunned. “Zarbon…” he said. “You can’t be serious… This place may not be the most wonderful place in the world, but it’s better than hell!” “Do you know the truth about Veda?” Zarbon asked. He knew the answer, but the question needed to be asked anyway. “Well, the story I heard was that she died in an accident and you were there, and then an asteroid struck your planet, and you changed into your other form in anger,” Hador replied. Throughout this statement, Zarbon’s power level was rising insanely. Hador stared. “Zarbon!” he yelled. “What are you doing?” Zarbon had changed. His other form, Hador observed, was reptilian, and rather ugly. It - no, that was unfair, he was still Zarbon, even if his appearance was different - still had the armour and spandex leotard on, luckily it had been invented for shape-changing races like Changelings and Saiyans. “You’ve changed! Zarbon you did it!” said Hador. “I did,” Zarbon stated calmly. “I despise this form. And do you want to know why?” Hador didn’t say anything, he just nodded. He didn’t notice the angry tone in his student’s voice. “In this form, I killed Veda,” Zarbon stated, remorse attempting to take over the anger in his face. The combination of the two expressions on his already repulsive transformed face was very ugly. “You… killed her?” Hador asked, seeming shocked, which was surprising to Zarbon, as he should have understood the atmosphere of murder and mayhem on Frieza’s ship. “Why?” “It wasn’t my fault,” Zarbon said. “She destroyed my planet, not an asteroid. She used this enormous attack, and destroyed it. I… I got angry. Just like now. I lost control, and I attacked her. I attacked Frieza as well.” He powered down. “That form is so ugly,” he sighed. “Frieza? Why him?” Hador asked. His brain was still back on the other statement. “He told her to destroy my planet. He told her because he knew it would make me angry… make me lose control.” “Oh.. I see,” said Hador. “Look, Zarbon… Frieza… never, ever try to get revenge on him…” he paused, allowing these important words to register to Zarbon. “He will kill you if he wants to, you know that.” Zarbon nodded, then frowned. “You’re telling me to just obey him?” he asked incredulously. “Yes,” Hador said. “Look, life is better than death, which is what you’ll get if you disobey Frieza. Almost any life. Like you said, it’s off to hell for you if you die, and I’m pretty sure hell is going to be a hundred times worse than this ship.” “I don’t know…” Zarbon said. “I mean, what about a life where you have no choice in what you do? That’s a living death, isn’t it?” “Yes, but there’s still hope that you’ll escape. Hope that one day your life will be better. Death is eternal and irreversible, imprisonment and slavery aren’t.” This was probably the smartest thing Hador had ever said. He wasn’t renowned for his incredible intelligence. Later, Zarbon sometimes wondered whether somehow someone else was speaking through him at that moment. Frieza laughed. The boy Zarbon had made a friend in Hador. The Changeling realised that friendship could be used to break the child who was so strong-willed, and so far had refused to be the killer Frieza wished him to be. The tyrant had formulated a plan. It was announced that there would be a tournament between all the best warriors in Frieza’s army. Zarbon, with his high power level, had been picked to go, as had Hador. “Did you hear the rumour?” Zarbon asked Hador. “Which one?” his alien friend asked in reply. “Honestly, I’ve heard hundreds. The way rumours spread on this ship…” “The one about Frieza getting a new recruit. A powerful one.” “That narrows it down,” Hador said sarcastically. “Is this the recruit who has a power level of one million?” “No,” Zarbon said, confused. “That’s impossible, isn’t it?” “I don’t know…” said Hador thoughtfully. “Before I got here, I always thought it was impossible to fly, but I can, can’t I?” “Yes. I thought the same thing… But anyway, this recruit is supposed to be called Dodoria, from some far-off planet in the West Quadrant.” “Oh, him,” Hador said, a fair amount of dislike in his voice. “I’ve heard of him. He’s apparently a bit stupid.” “Stupider than you, you mean?” Zarbon asked good-naturedly. “Ha ha,” Hador replied in a sarcastic tone. “He’s stupider than me alright. He’s supposed to have botched up a fair few missions while working for King Cold. According to my rumour sources, King Cold got so sick of him that he sent him as a gift to Frieza on his hundredth planet destroyed.” Zarbon snorted at this. To him, it was ridiculous. “You mean Cold sent his son a pre-used slave as a present for killing his hundredth planet full of people?” he asked. “I suppose so,” Hador replied. Hador couldn’t see what was so funny about this. It must have shown in his face, because Zarbon explained why he was laughing. “On my planet,” he said. “We send each other gifts on the day we learnt to speak. It’s a tradition. This reminds me of that.” “Well, often people would send you stuff you didn’t want, like clothes that didn’t fit or jewellery that was below your rank. It was tradition to send them to someone else on their speakday, to get rid of them. It’s like King Cold has been sent a useless slave, and is getting rid of him by sending him to Frieza.” “Right,” said Hador. It was clear from his expression that he hadn’t understood a word of what Zarbon had said. Zarbon sighed. Hador may have been a genius at fighting, but he was a bit dim in other areas of life. “Don’t worry about it Hador,” he said. “Was it that obvious I didn’t understand?” asked Hador. “Let me put it this way, friend, you need to learn how to disguise your reactions to things.” Hador laughed. “You’re not so good at that yourself, Zarbon.” Zarbon pretended to be insulted. He grinned at Hador’s sorry face. “See. I’m good at it,” Zarbon said smugly. Hador rolled his eyes. Zarbon would do anything to prove a point. It was part of the in-built arrogance the Narcissian seemed to posses. “Anyway,” Zarbon continued. “I have to go to my quarters. Even I can’t act my way out of lack of sleep.” The weeks leading up to the tournament seemed to go by very slowly. Frieza’s ship was a horribly boring place without the atmosphere of terror, and as all of the fighters were busy training, and even Lord Frieza himself was away, the fear seemed to have been leeched out of the place. Zarbon sparred against Hador most of the time, usually winning easily. Hador was now much weaker than Zarbon. Veda had been right in saying the Narcissian had potential. After an exasperating month of training and clearly getting nowhere, the day of the tournament finally came for Zarbon and Hador. Their training had been unsuccessful because each now knew the other’s fighting style so well they could always anticipate the other’s move and block it. The only thing they had managed to enhance at all was their endurance. For his first fight, Zarbon was put against a warrior from the East Quadrant of the galaxy. Luckily, Zarbon had done some research on different races and planets, and found that the eastern area of space was one with mostly speedy fighters. He, his planet formerly having been in the South Quadrant, was supposed to be from a peaceful area. It was good, he thought, because people would underestimate him. “Fight seven,” a speaker called. “Zarbon vs. Fasia.” Fasia was exactly as Zarbon has suspected. She sped around the arena at an incredible pace, unable to be seen. At first, Zarbon was quite confused by this, it was a bit difficult to hit an enemy you couldn’t see. After a little while of Fasia constantly appearing behind him and basically beating him up, he had an idea. He stood in the middle of the stadium. “What is he doing?” was the cry from most of the crowd. Zarbon ignored them. He charged up a small ki blast, ready. Fasia, just as he had expected, came behind him. He let go the blast, hitting her at point-blank range. It knocked her out of the ring. The audience gasped. They realised that, from the South Quadrant or not, Zarbon wasn’t to be underestimated. The voice on the loudspeaker yelled again. “The winner seems to be Zarbon,” he said, amazed. The tournament went on the same way until the semi-finals. Hador and Zarbon advanced quickly. The rumoured new fighter was nowhere to be seen. According to the Hador’s “sources”, (Zarbon had since discovered these were less than reliable, after they told him of a rumour that Frieza was actually female) he was with the tyrant on the mission Frieza had left the ship to pursue. In the semis, Zarbon and Hador had been assigned to fight each other. Zarbon had been looking forward to this, Hador was the only warrior who, in his opinion, had any chance of beating him at all. As they flew down to the arena, a huge gasp came from the audience. Zarbon frowned, it wasn’t an awed gasp, more like… fear. He turned around slowly. Hador wasn’t smart enough to plan anything like that. Frieza was back on his ship. The tyrant smirked at the shocked faces of everyone on the ship. He paused for a while, relishing the tension of all his mercenaries. Then he spoke. “I’m afraid this tournament is over,” he announced in his usual quiet but undeniably dangerous voice. There was another gasp, this time of surprise. Frieza frowned. His words weren’t having quite the effect he had expected. It was as though the entire audience had been frozen solid. “Well?” he asked. “What are you waiting for? GET OUT!” There was a stampede to the exit. No sane person would have voluntarily hung around an angry Frieza. However, Zarbon, who liked to keep his dignity at all times, had not run. He had begun to walk, of course, he wasn’t an idiot, but he hadn’t bolted like most of the others. Hador had been crashed into by a large group of warriors, and was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head. Zarbon fought an urge to laugh. The mirth disappeared as he heard Frieza’s whispered statement. “You,” the Changeling said. “Stay.” Zarbon, not sure whether it was him or Hador being spoken to, stopped. Hador immediately got up from the hard white floor, and stood to attention. Frieza seemed to find this funny. He laughed loudly. Zarbon shivered. There was a horrible, insane confidence in that laugh. “Yes, stand up, ah ha ha!” Frieza said. Zarbon stared. He got the strong impression that however powerful and frightening, Frieza wasn’t quite all there. “Lord Frieza, I salute you,” Hador said. Frieza laughed even harder. Zarbon wondered whether he could fly away while Frieza was distracted. He knew that if he had to fight he had no chance at defeating Frieza, transformed or not. He decided to take a step backwards, to test Frieza. His foot tapped lightly against the floor. Frieza whirled around. He may have been small, but it didn’t change his terrible aura of power at all. Zarbon felt terrible fear rush through him. The tyrant said nothing. Zarbon tried not to blink under Frieza’s red-eyed glare. Frieza muttered something that Zarbon couldn’t hear. Hador spoke, hoping to distract Frieza’s attention from Zarbon. “Lord Frieza, you haven’t told…” He trailed off at another glare from Frieza. “Well? I’m not patient, you know,” Frieza said sharply. Zarbon wondered whether Frieza enjoyed seeing other people frightened. It was likely. “What Hador meant to say was you haven’t told us what you asked us to stay for,” Zarbon said for his friend. “I’m sure Hador could have said that himself,” Frieza replied. “However, I suppose I shall tell you.” Frieza paused, in his characteristic way. “I wish to challenge the one called Zarbon.” Zarbon gulped, but walked forward. “I accept,” he said. “No!” Hador cried, shocked. “You can’t, he’ll kill you.” Zarbon gave him a short look through completely determined amber eyes. He let power flow through him, strengthening him. The air in the room seemed to shake. Finally, he stopped. Frieza smirked. “Not bad,” the tyrant sneered. “But I can do better.” Frieza powered up to a level just before his second form. He didn’t want to waste his real power on Zarbon. Zarbon started the fight by shooting a ki blast a Frieza. The tyrant blocked it easily with his arm, letting it burn a large hole in the floor. He disappeared, his speed making him a blur. But this time, Zarbon knew what to expect. He stopped dead, just like he had before. Frieza appeared behind Zarbon, and without even looking, the Narcissian landed a hard punch to his face with all his strength. Frieza lurched back, but didn’t seem to be harmed very much. The Changeling snorted. “Was that the best you can do?” he asked. Zarbon ignored him, and took the chance to fire another ki blast. This time, Frieza dodged it. A whole row of seats was disintegrated. Hador watched, transfixed by the terrible battle before him. Frieza smirked, and shot a blast of his own at Zarbon. The Narcissian tried to block it, but didn’t succeed. It hit him, and he was knocked backwards into a wall. A small trickle of purple blood flowed down his cheek from his mouth. Hador gasped. Frieza walked towards Zarbon. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” the tyrant laughed. “Weak, aren’t you?” Zarbon groaned. He was alive, but only just. Frieza looked at him with contempt. “Well, I was going to make you my head fighter,” he said. “But you seem to be too weak.” He laughed again. “I suppose I’ll have to kill you now.” “I… don’t… think… so,” Zarbon stammered. More blood sprayed from his mouth, gathering on what was left of his armour. He gathered all the energy he could, and shot a blast a Frieza. It hit the tyrant, and there was a cloud of smoke. Zarbon smiled, Frieza would never take another life, and the galaxy was safe. He closed his eyes. He knew he was near death. As though through a misty haze, he heard Hador’s shout. “ZARBON! WATCH OUT!” Zarbon opened his eyes abruptly. There was a blast flying straight for his chest. He tried to move his arm to block it, but found he couldn’t. He gave up hope, and slumped against the wall, the small impact causing him to cough up more blood. Hador leapt into the air. All he could think about was getting in between the blast and Zarbon. He flew at top speed, and just as the blast was about to hit, he crashed into it. Hador was disintegrated, his body completely destroyed and the remains of his armour scattering into the air. Zarbon, now even closer to death, powered up insanely. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed. He transformed, all of his pain gone. His anger had taken over, and his injuries, however great, were nothing compared to his anger. He stood up. Frieza stepped out of the smoke. Zarbon stared at him, pure hatred evident in his expression. Frieza was unfazed by this. “Impressive,” he said. For the second time, he knocked Zarbon out. Zarbon woke up in a watery environment, his terrible injuries all gone. His anger came back at the memory of what had happened. Then he remembered something Hador had said. “Life is better than death.” The importance of Hador’s words may not have affected Zarbon at the time, but it hit him full on now. He hated Frieza, but he had no choice. There was no possible choice but life as a mercenary. He’d have to accept it, and hope that someday, somehow, things would change for the better. |