“Wake up, soldier. It’s time.”
Bardock opened his eyes. The dark red of his pod’s interior greeted him.
“ETA to our destination, pod?”
“3 minutes.”
“That’s too long. Engage the VR again.”
“As you wish.”
Bardock was engulfed by overwhelming darkness once again. He executed some mental commands, and now, he was looking at a green sky, soaking in the petrichor smell from the nearby grass.
Kanassa. He always imagined himself here, for better or for worse.
It had been 1479 days since Kanassa. Five Saiyans waged war against a hundred million, for three weeks. Bardock smirked wanly, remembering the sheer thrill of slaughter. Few things satisfied a Saiyan as much as crushing enemies with his bare hands.
Bardock grimaced when he noticed where this train of thought was leading. He was beyond saving. He was the punctuation mark at the end of a violent history that was barely a civilization, let alone a culture. But it was his race, and his history. He was a Saiyan, and he was proud.
Bardock walked to the edge of the coastline and knelt. He rose to the air, before diving headfirst into the ocean. A brown aura erupted around his form, illuminating the depths of the ocean as he covered one hundred leagues in five minutes.
Water flooded into his lungs and ears- but for only a second. He gently pushed his ki outwards, focusing on his nostrils and earholes. His heartbeat calmed, and the brown aura dancing around him contracted.
Slowly, Bardock exhaled, letting his thoughts wander. He had been meditating for a while, but mastery of mindfulness remained as elusive as ever. It was, perhaps, due to his Saiyan genes. Saiyan minds weren’t crafted for reason and tranquility.
Eventually, the quiet storm in his mind subsided, and Bardock knew peace.
He split his mind’s focus into two. One side focused on battle simulations, and the other on his memories, and strategies for the upcoming mission.
Bardock briefly reflected on the elegance of Saiyan technology, and their culture as a whole. A whole civilization dedicated to war, slaughter and glory. Songs, novels, cities were created for that singular purpose. Some scientists had considered increasing aggression levels and ironing out ‘distractions’ such as affection in the genetic matrix. They have been stymied for the time being, but he wondered how long that would stick.
He paced his way through the simulations. City blocks. Megacities. Countries. Continents. He cleared them out, one by one.
He tested different tactics each time. Hand to hand. Aerial bombardment. Guerilla warfare.
The longest it took him to clear a planet was twenty three minutes.
He moved on to more ambitious scenarios. Himself and a small band of Saiyans against the Tuffles Armada. That took a few more hours.
He thought of trying his luck against the Cold Empire’s fleet. But he didn’t dare try, not this close to success. The pod AIs were often screened by overseers, and they were sure to detect such suspicious exercises.
“We are entering the moon’s atmosphere.”
Bardock opened his eyes. The pod was surrounded by atmospheric fire. It shook, and Bardock felt a surge of adrenaline flooding his nerves, empowering his instincts. The pod crashed onto the ground two minutes later. Bardock grunted as his shoulders bruised on impact.
He climbed out once the door opened. He had landed in the middle of a forest, creating a small crater at the point of impact. It was night, and the nearby planet shone like a bright candle. It was a greenish blue gas giant, and there was a huge storm waging near its South Pole.
Bardock turned his scouter on and took to the skies. “Team, status report.”
“I am here,” Nappa’s gruff voice floated through the speaker. “Radditz is too. He’s still dazed. Landed funny.”
“Stupid pod,” Radditz equivocated weakly.
“King Vegeta, what’s your status?”
“I am well,” Vegeta stated, in his usual gruff and regal tone. “Let’s talk less and focus on what’s in front of us.”
“Indeed,” Bardock concurred. “Let’s meet at the base.”
Bardock sped through the skies, soaring past birds and night clouds. He kept his power dampened as he approached the sky elevator for the orbital base.
He spotted the lone lookout near the gates. He swooped down as he neared the guard, picking up a rock and throwing it at his nine-o clock to distract him.
The guard, now alert, moved slowly, turning on the flashlight on his plasma rifle as he moved towards the source of the noise. Bardock surged towards him silently, grabbing hold of the mouth tightly with one hand and striking the head sharply with another.
He removed the guard’s scouter from his temple, and interfaced with through his own. He hacked the secure channels, sending a couple of rogue algorithms through meant to distract and confuse the remaining guards in the elevator.
“Operation is go,” Bardock relayed to his fellow saboteurs. “We have around five minutes before the elevator closes down for curfew.”
“That’s five minutes too many,” Radditz scowled.
“Let’s see if you can clear it,” Bardock replied, watching the skies. Three dim figures descended from the clouds, silently flying through various entry points.
Bardock went through the main entrance. The minute buzzing of the enmeshed wiring, and the gleam of the metallic walls made Bardock uneasy. These walls had borne witness to much bloodshed. They might do so again tonight.
Bardock flew up to the higher levels, ascending three hundred floors of distance in two minutes. He noticed the others going about their work, picking off any stragglers not yet neutralized by the sonic interference from their scouters. Nappa shoved his large, meaty fist through one guard’s head, which exploded gorily like a flesh-colored pumpkin. Napa rubbed the remains of the guard’s jaw off his hand, waving airily at Bardock as he ascended past the older Saiyan.
Bardock entered the security room once he reached the top level. He checked the feeds, confirming that most of Frieza Planet #422’s population were in various stages of slumber after tonight’s festivities. Frieza was passed out in his private quarters, and King Cold was asleep with two royal concubines.
“You sure you are up for taking Frieza, General?” Vegeta inquired, his boots clacking softly against the metallic floor as he drew closer.
“You sure you are up for King Cold, my liege?”
Vegeta grimaced. “As ready as I will ever be. Five years of training. Your visions better be right, Bardock.”
“I am not sure if they are right. Super Saiyans, Gods, Other Universes. But I do know that Frieza is a maniac, and he sent Dodoria to finish us off at Kanassa. Better to do him in, before he does the same to us.”
“That’s easier said than done. Frieza has a power level of five hundred thousand.”
“Even more. And he’s hardly the strongest bastard out there.”
“Hmmph. More jaws to break, then. Godspeed, General.”
“Likewise, my liege.”
Bardock saw something akin to respect pass over Vegeta’s rugged, aged features. He nodded, before blasting off with urgency, a trail of blue ki illuminating his path.
Bardock took a deep breath, and reached into the wellspring of power within him. He felt ki all around him, emanating from insects, critters and birds. The energy ebbed and flowed, in harmony with nature, humming and buzzing with untold stories of moments unseen and unheard.
And then, Bardock felt two cold, liquid magma-like ki signatures. He focused on the rawer, volatile signature, and exhaled.
“I am coming for you, Frieza.”
Bardock tore through the skies, white energy blazing around his form. He briefly took in the sights of Sky City 21 as he headed towards the palace. The semi-sentient city pulsed with data, metal sinews snaking through the opaque flooring. Once designed as a cooperative learning and residential environment, SC21 had been repurposed as a pleasure hub by the Cold Empire. It fetched a pretty penny for its Overseers, and hosted the most decadent celebrations in the galaxy.
Bardock grimaced as he spotted the domed palace. He increased his speed drastically, and everything around him dissolved into a blur.
Bardock blasted through the dome, aiming to drive his knee through the prone Frieza’s back. Frieza yelped, maneuvering mid-air and side-stepping Bardock as they crashed through the floor.
“Careful,” Frieza said darkly, cracking his neck and slipping into a fighting stance. “You could hurt someone.”
“Hurt you? I am going to kill you.”
Frieza smirked, and his eyes sparkled. “You can try.”
Bardock charged at Frieza, who reacted with a gut punch. Bardock grinned: Frieza was leading with his left, as he knew from his memories of the other world. He swerved slightly, kneeing Frieza in the ribs before driving his elbow onto the base of Frieza’s neck with unbridled ferocity.
If that had been anyone other than Frieza, Bardock would have snapped his opponent’s spine in two. But this was Frieza, and as Bardock increased the distance between him and his opponent, he caught Frieza rebalancing himself, his right cheek straining under the menace of his smirk.
Bardock grinned, his hair now floating, waving to and fro like trees trying to survive a storm. Fists clenched, he spread his arms, curling them into a stance. And then, with a blood curdling yell, Bardock focused on his ki, unfolding it around his body in a brilliant display of white energy.
“Ahh, I see,” Frieza remarked, lazily floating towards Bardock, mischief dancing in his eyes. “This is where the fun begins.”
Bardock grimaced, despite the tug of war being waged between his body and his will. His body was shaking, joints creaking and muscles tearing, as he unleashed the full extent of his power, secretly gained through training and espionage over the last four years.
This was all he had, and with it, he could end Frieza in a heartbeat. But he needed to do it before Frieza could power up: Bardock wouldn’t last two seconds against a fully powered up Frieza.
He remembered those strange memories, and when they came into his mind, he could see his son, and Vegeta’s son fighting side by side, defeating Frieza and many other enemies. He felt the power they generated, as though he was connected to them via phantom limbs.
They had their whole lives ahead of them. The least Bardock could do was to make sure they didn’t suffer under the heel of the Cold clan.
“You are serious about this, aren’t you?” Frieza said, discarding his armor. He descended, eyes keen and trained on Bardock. “You do realize that you signed your death warrant, as well as everyone else you ever knew?”
Bardock waited for Frieza to make the first move. And he knew what move it was, because at this power level, it was the only move left.
“I must admit that I underestimated you monkeys. I should have never let you live. Traitor scum, is what you are.”
Bardock flew, cutting through the air around him like a supersonic javelin. The ground quaked and gave way. At these speeds, he could see the terror seep into Frieza’s eyes, spreading like a plague through his body, racing towards his extremities.
“Frieza. It’s over.”
Frieza yelled, like a spoiled child does when his toys are taken away. He rushed to defend himself, crossing his arms in front of his face as he leapt backwards. His tail rose, curled and alert, waiting for Bardock to come into Frieza’s range.
Bardock focused his energies onto his outstretched fist, his knuckles burning like bony constellations on a white sky. His speed increased exponentially, and the world around him blurred, the colors of the sky and the pulsing floors of SC21 draining into a focal point like a strange kaleidoscope of colors and sounds.
Frieza saw it coming, but it was already two late. It took 0.15 seconds for his brain to process the sight in front of him, and it took three seconds more for the brain to decide on a fight or flight response.
When Bardock closed the gap between them, terror had just began to register on Frieza’s features, like a rising sun peeking from the distant horizon. His mouth laxed, quivering, a battle of emotions swirling within.
He was the heir apparent to the Kold empire. He would not scream or show weakness, even when faced with death. He was Frieza, and that meant he would take this final loss as Frieza is wont to do.
Bardock’s fist connected with Frieza’s torso with explosive finality. The energy around his knuckles morphed, assuming a blade like shape; Bardock twisted his fist like a blender, bursting through Frieza’s exterior and into his innards, the energy blade cutting off all vital connections in his gut. The blade spliced through his spinal column, cutting it in twain.
Bardock gazed at Frieza, whose head was drooping, blood and spit rolling down from his mouth. Frieza quivered, his lips twitching as though he was about to say his last words.
Bardock would offer Frieza no such luxury. He gathered energy on the palm of his hands. the wound on Frieza’s torso glowed. Frieza raised his hands weakly, clutching at Bardock’s arm, too proud to ask for mercy.
“Do you know how long I waited for this?” Bardock asked, using his other hand to grab Frieza’s throat.
Frieza coughed, his bravado retreating to the narrowest corners of his mind. “It doesn’t matter, monkey. Get this over with.”
“With pleasure.”
Bardock opened his palms, and a streak of white ki burst forth, eviscerating Frieza’s innards in an instant. Once Bardock was done, he pulled his hand out of the smoldering piece of flesh that was once Frieza. He resisted the urge to vomit as he inspected his arm, covered in a revolting mixture of purple and blue blood.
Bardock searched for King Cold and Vegeta’s energy signals. He didn’t have to wait for long: he spotted Vegeta a few klicks away from where Bardock was, and the way his energy was fluctuating, Bardock couldn’t help but fear the worst.
Bardock blasted off, urgency infecting his thoughts as he hurried towards Vegeta. When he arrived, he saw Vegeta lying prone atop a pile of wreckage, barely managing to raise his head when he saw Bardock approaching his position.
“Finally,” Vegeta said, propping himself up with his hands. “That took longer than expected.”
Bardock looked around, looking for King Cold. However, there was no trace of him, and this disturbed the Saiyan to no end.
“Listen, Bardock. We have already lost. Take your pod and get out of here. We need to warn the rest of the Saiyans about what awaits them.”
“I am not leaving without you, liege,” Bardock insisted, grabbing Vegeta’s hands and trying to lift him up to his feet.
“You fool! There’s nothing you can do to help me. Cold is far more powerful than you thought. I am done for. Gather the rest of us and leave!”
Bardock nodded, but then in a move that surprised even himself, he struck Vegeta’s neck with a chop. Vegeta groaned, his eyes becoming unfocused as he faded towards unconsciousness.
“You heard the man,” Bardock said, turning on his scouter’s comms channel. “Let’s try and get out of here in one piece.”
Bardock flew, grunting as he carried Vegeta towards the forest. When he reached the edge of the forest, however, he saw two columns of fire rising from within the forest. Screams echoed, and as Bardock passed by, he realized that it was Raditz and Nappa, completely at the mercy of whatever foe had cornered them.
Bardock increased his speed, trying his best to stay off the radar of his enemies’ scouters. He prayed that his pod hadn’t yet been discovered. When he reached his pod’s location, he saw that it was still well hidden. Opening the door, he placed Vegeta gingerly onto the pod’s seat, rapidly entering a series of codes to set the pod’s next destination.
The pod shot off, and Bardock felt relieved. At least the King was now safe. He could now focus on saving the rest of his squad.
Before he could do that, however, two things happened.
A streak of dark red energy hit the pod, which exploded upon impact. Bardock craned his neck to see King Cold standing, hands raised towards the pod. King Cold noticed Bardock too, and he scoffed, the way one scoffs at a particularly persistent insect.
“You didn’t think it would be this easy, did you?”
A force of untold magnitude crashed into Bardock, who went flying off his feet. He was experiencing a level of pain that he thought was impossible. And then a barrage of punches and kicks rained down on him, battering his flesh with hundreds of blows.
It took King Cold and his forces two hours to finally subdue Bardock, only after he had completely exhausted his energy reserves. Bardock fought beyond what was humanly possible, clinging on to dear life, as though he was waiting for something to happen. Whatever that was, it never came. When the last dregs of hope had been beaten out of him, Bardock finally let go, drifting into the darkness of unconsciousness.
~*~
A restless King Cold retired to his chambers, a slew of thoughts circling inside his head, too fast to acknowledge and act upon. He accessed his camera feeds, pausing to look at his doctors and scientists doing their best to save Frieza’s life.
Cold scoffed. It was Frieza’s fault that he had been beaten so badly by an unknown Saiyan peasant. The boy had never trained a day in his life, and that was costing him.
“What do you propose we do to the Saiyans, sire?” Zarbon, one of Frieza’s most trusted lieutenants, asked via another screen.
Cold glared at Zarbon, for his chain of thoughts had been interupted, and Cold wasn’t fond of that happening to himself. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and when he thought about what the Cold Empire should do in response to this display of unprovoked aggression, Cold realized that there was only one right answer.
“Take preparations, Zarbon. Instruct your fleet to stand by. See if the Ginyu Force is still around.”
Zarbon nodded, frightful, for there was no mirth in Cold’s words. He knew what was being asked of him, but he still felt as though he needed further clarification.
“When are we expected to launch the counter offensive, sire?”
“By tomorrow.”
Zarbon recoiled. The Frieza force took two weeks, minimum, to muster at full strength. But this was King Cold, and what he demanded, he received, in one way or another.
“By tomorrow, sire?”
King Cold pursed his lips, carefully removing his armor and cape. “Yes, by tomorrow. Tomorrow, Vegeta dies.”
Zarbon nodded, leaving his station to relay the new information to his fleet. Cold returned his gaze back to Frieza, who was hovering in a vat of healing gel.
“You could have been here, my child, but you aren’t. I suppose I will have to make do with what I got.”
Cold sighed, and turned off the lights before going to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a busy, busy day. He needed his beauty sleep.
King Cold sang to himself, trying to remember what the words were. It didn’t matter, of course. King Cold chuckled. He hadn’t been this excited about something since, well, forever.
“Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow…”
He couldn’t wait for the day to arrive. It had been three hundred years since Cold had personally taken part in genocide. He was looking forward to outdoing himself.
This is a Shared Universe, multi-chapter story that will be updated periodically.