Post by Son Goten on Dec 13, 2011 23:50:32 GMT -5
{ Quest link: Long Drop From the Gallows }
A small groan escaped from between his lips, as he received yet another ping on his scouter. More and more civilian reports were coming in because of lenient guardsmen patrolling the streets. On a regular day, these reports would go through his PR wing. However, there were so many reports that they had a tendency to roll over. A batch of young justice "enthusiasts" had gotten a hold of his personal frequency, and were distributing it throughout the Imperial City. They would have to be dealt with sooner or later, on his own time. Perhaps now, would be the best? Perhaps. For now, he'd need to see what all the commotion was.
Directing his hover chair down the marble-esque steps that lead out of the Main Hall, one hand leisurely moving to remove his scouter. He couldn't bare having that infernal device hanging off of his head any longer. Too many communications were blasting through his hearing piece, piercing his ears with the shrill cries of his 'people'. They were a whiny bunch, all things considered. If he had to choose between an ice cold glass of water, and a dozen of them; his choice wouldn't be too difficult. His people were almost overly disposable, in comparison to the other resources he held in his name.
As the main doors swung open, Cooler was met with what appeared to be a local riot. Men and women of all ages were coming together to overwhelm his Castle guards, having gotten to the entrance of the castle. Quirking his brow, the lord pulled to a stop just behind the perimeter of his guards. The citizens grew even more determined as they caught sight of their lord and master. Eyes following the line of men and women, he couldn't help but wonder what about this guard problem had put them in such an uproar.
Raising a hand up from his hover chair in an almost careless fashion, he couldn't help but question whether or not they knew what was to come next. As energy began coming together just beneath his finger tips, he found delight in their widening eyes. The front line of civilians caught sight of the purple flash, and was temporarily distracted by the light. Guards began pushing them back, not that they needed any help in retreating, as they had no hope. The line behind them had no visual on Cooler's energy, and like the others at the riot, were confused.
Why would they retreat? They were already at the gates! Lord Cooler was just a few feet away, if only they could get there! The lines behind the first surged forward, shoving the guards out of the way just in time. Cooler's energy blast was almost fully formed, his palm holding steady right next to a deadly smirk, that seemed to decorate his face. This was his slaughter smirk; one he saved for those beautiful times where he was setting up to slaughter some civilians. If only they knew what was in store for them.
Cooler allowed their screams to begin before he even contemplated releasing his attack. He wanted the terror to set in, to soak his targets with it's unique stench. The only thing better than a dead target, was a target who was dead and scared. His eyes lit up with a certain fire, a fire that released every detail of his ill intent. It wasn't a fire fueled by rage, but a fire fed by his joy and utmost pleasure. It was clear to them, to anyone observing the situation, that he was finding no displeasure in his current task.
The energy released from his hand with a loud roar, almost like a cannon firing on full auto, releasing a constant stream of blasts that arced out into the crowd. They flew over the heads of Cooler's soon to be deceased crowd, exploding deeply into their ranks. Large and stunning blasts of purple heat rocked the entirety of the main gate, scattering the bodies of multiple species, while blasting others into the air. Body parts and limbs were shot through the crowd, knocking over any not instantly killed by the blasts Cooler had released.
Even louder screaming came over the air, reaching what may have been called the changeling's ears, racking his body with pangs of pleasure. They were terrified and confused, scared and worried. Their master was destroying them without so much of a second thought. Grinning wildly, Cooler continued releasing arcing blasts of energy into his quickly disappearing crowd. Less and less rioters were making noise as explosions continued to decimate their ranks, leaving behind blackened spots of blood and gore, coupled with the occasional organ.
Guards who had been quelling the riot retreated back to surround their lord, almost as if they were protecting him. That was a highly ridiculous notion; as if he needed protection. They were just his dirty workers, doing whatever he required of them, so that he didn't have to do it himself. They were little more than pawns on his chess board, taking out all the pieces he didn't enjoy seeing on his playing field.
Right now, they didn't appear to be doing too great of a job.
Almost immediately, a squad parted through the line of guardsmen. The lead man looked somewhat official, at least by the standards of Cooler's army. He had a single shoulder guard, which was ripped off at the tip. The armor was clearly a war trophy of one of the changeling's more brutal campaigns, one that he had called in reinforcements from the Home Base for. In short, this man was a loyal servant to his family, one that could be relied upon in most circumstances.
Now, Cooler was going to murder him in cold blood. He'd murder the man's entire unit if it got the message across. Civilians were supposed to have zero access to his palace, no exceptions. These men and women had made it to his front door; that was not to be accepted. It was overly clear to him that he'd have to send a message, and a strong one at that. He searched the man up and down as he approached. He had no obvious weapons on him, not that it would matter.
Cautiously, the changeling floated free of his hover-chair, lifting himself up into the air, and then landing down just in front of the device. His piercing purplish red eyes were narrowed, focused on the man and his escort. He wasn't well shaven; sporting a white goatee that fit his face somewhat well. His face appeared calm, collected, but his lord and master knew much better. He was probably scared and confused as to why Cooler would call for him. Nothing good ever came from a meeting with Cooler.
Cooler's arms were at his sides when the man reached him, his fists clenched. He was somewhat aware of the motion his tail was making, sliding along the smooth flooring behind him. It was a tick of his, one that signified annoyance and irritation. Neither one was a good sign for the unit's commander, or his escort. No doubt they would make a move to protect him, try to keep him alive for a moment longer. It was unfortunate that none of his four man escort would survive his assault. They looked like good men.
His words were hurried, fast. He clearly suspected that he was in some kind of trouble. Cooler's silence was intended to say it all, and yet the lord still had some words left to express to this man. The changeling's tail smacked hard upon the floor, sending cracks rippling throughout. His expression had shifted from one of pleasure and sadistic glee, into one of utter disgust and distaste. He certainly hoped that he was putting on a show, enough of one to hint at what this fellow was in for.
There was a solid difference between the tones of each man. Cooler's low, yet fluctuating tones insinuated something sinister. Meanwhile, the Commander appeared calm and collected, appearing loyal in the face of what must have surely been his end. There was no shaking, no signs of fear. He was going out like only one of Cooler's officers could have; like a man with nothing to lose. He knew the risks of being a commanding officer, and one of them just happened to be death.
Cooler's eyes locked upon his commander's, staring through the thin lens of the scouter that shielded his right eye. For what must have felt like an eon to the commander, felt like mere seconds to the lord. Cooler was used to awkward terminations, and had begun to find them rather enjoyable after one got past the whole, 'Get rid of the bodies~' thing. It really wasn't all that unpleasant, once everything was considered. It was also the easiest way to clear up mistakes. If everyone was dead, there was no one else left to blame but the guilty, and likely dead, party.
His tail sprung forward, blasting around his body to encircle the Commander's throat. His tail behaved much like a boa constrictor, constricting around his throat, while lifting him into the air. Cold eyes narrowed, Cooler spoke to his commander in a tone suggesting fierce anger, but in honesty he could have cared less what the infraction was. He simply had to make it look serious in front of his men, so that the same mistake was not made. His escort was already showing signs of distress, their arms thrown back in shock.
Cooler's arm lashed out at the Commander's body, which was filled with tension. He was reaching for his neck when the Lord's punch impacted his chest, releasing the remaining breath from his lungs. The air exploded from his lungs without any semblance of difficulty, leaving the man to suffocate beneath the pressure of his lord's tail. His men glanced back at each other, questioning themselves morally. Were they to help the man that helped keep them alive for several years, or their lord and master, who was suffocating him?
It appeared their decision was made. Hesitantly, they all rose their blasters to level with their master, shocking the rest of the guardsmen, who in turn raised their blasters at the escort squad. Cooler's arms crossed, and his eyes were averted from the man he was choking. They were ballsy enough to level their weapons at him, eh? Then perhaps they were ballsy enough to die by his hand as well. Frowning deeply, Cooler waited for the words he knew to be coming, the words that always came.
Then he laughed, that deep, almost gentle laugh. Almost however, was not close enough. It was clear he found the proposition amusing, but was it amusing enough for him to consider it? Almost.
They once more, glanced at each other. Were they going to go through with this? Cooler's experience told him that they would. It wasn't hard for him to tell. Nor was it going to be hard for him to slaughter these insignificant fools, once they crossed him. He'd make an example out of them, and then out of the rioters remaining outside of his compound. Narrowing his eyes, Cooler watched as their arms tensed up. They were about to fire their blasters at him.
Several blasts erupted from their blasters, exploding out into the cool air of the Plaza. Cooler's body slid to the right, evading the volley with ease, but allowing several blasts to impact the poor man he held with his tail. Had he any breath, he'd have screamed. Unfortunately, all he could do was limply clutch at his midsection and chest, where the blasts had impacted, an action which must have sufficed. Slackening his grip upon the man's neck, Cooler let him fall to the ground, his legs propelling him forward at his targets.
The men who had been observing decided to stay out of it, knowing very well how serious the repercussions were for interrupting Lord Cooler. They lowered their blasters, retreating to form a circle around the emerging scuffle. All of their eyes were forced to struggle, in their attempt to follow Cooler's assault on the escortmen. They knew that this was going to be a short fight; Lord Cooler rarely had one that lasted longer than three minutes. The crowd was swiftly filled with bets, on how long these upstarts would last.
His body sprung forth, arm lashing out at the nearest escort, the one that spoke out in defense of his leader. Cooler's fist impacted it with heavy force, forcing his nose to cave in. He released a soft 'ugh', as his body slumped backwards, only to be halted by Cooler's next assault. His free arm reached out to grip the man's caved in face as his other pulled back, and began to pool another blast of energy within it's palm.
Expressionless, Cooler reacted as the others adjusted their blasters to him. He spun quickly, wrapping a blaster up in his tail before slinging the crippled escort at two in the back. One of them managed to duck underneath their friend's injured body, while the other was caught off guard and knocked over. His feet were knocked out from under him, and his back swiftly hit the ground.
Finally getting a grip on his situation, the escort hanging from Cooler's tail released his hand from his blaster, only to see the Lord himself spin around to react. He'd heard the soft 'click' of the release mechanism, and concluded that this unfortunate peon had gotten a smart idea. Eyes alight with a lord-like fury, Cooler sent a swift kick into the man's armored Gut, cracking the plating. His body was lifted into the air by the firm attack, not once but many times, as Cooler continued assaulting him.
Behind him, the fellow who had evaded the body was helping his friend up, speaking in hushed, worried tones.
His body sprung forward, releasing a trail of energy behind it as it blasted toward Cooler, hoping to finally rid the Universe of his scourge forever. Unfortunately, his display was just a little too loud for the Overlord to ignore. Without hesitation, or even contemplation, Cooler slung his arm out, turning his body in the same, fluid motion. He felt the strength in his opponent's jaw give way, as his fist impacted it. The escort's body spun on a dime, as Cooler finally released the pent up energy he had been containing.
The wave eradicated everything in it's path, scorching through the floor and leaving a torn path in it's wake. As the energy's roar began to dissipate, the changeling considered his current situation. Those fools had entered the battle with the hopes of defeating an intergalactic ruler; it was clear to him, and likely them as well, that little hope existed for their success. Cooler was simply too powerful for them to defeat him. Was that his fault? No; was it theirs for being ungrateful little minions? Of course.
Relaxing his arm, Cooler turned toward the only remaining escort, the one who lacked internal bleeding. He strode forward confidently, his three legged feet making no noise, their sound masked by the crackle of flames, and the confused hustle and bustle of about ninety percent of the original guardsmen assigned to his palace. He had caught a few of them in the crossfire with his last attack, but that was of no consequence to him. It should have been obvious by now, that he needed little protection from assault.
The man fell back onto his hand and blaster, scrambling back across the flooring to try and reach some aid. Not that any of the men there would have helped him of course; if Lord Cooler wanted to kill him, he would kill him. There was little doubt in any of their heads about what was to occur next. The majority of the chatter was about the rapidly approaching death of the man before Cooler, and whether or not he would finish him off before the deadline was reached.
Cooler had his own deadlines. He had a surrender order to sign later in the day; he couldn't be caught covered in blood. While it would be a wonderful gimmick, it wouldn't be prudent to dirty his hoverchair with such a thing. The blood of five pathetic guardsmen was not a fitting decorative motif for his transportation. It was for this reason, that he intended to make his point, and end all of this as swiftly as possible. He had already spent his fun with the other ones, it was time to get to business.
Stomping hard upon the terrified alien's chest, Cooler glared down upon him, his intent clear. There was no way he was going to leave alive, but he would be a demonstrational aid, before his untimely demise. Slowly, Cooler bent down, grabbing the fellow by his armor, before planting his foot firmly on the ground. Lifting his visual aid into the air, Cooler cast a glance around the crowd that had gathered. He wasn't letting these men go unlectured.
Addressing the corporal who he held in his hand, Cooler waited for him to speak. When nothing came out, his lord and master took the liberty of encircling his windpipe with a cold, ungloved palm. If he wasn't going to take advantage of this time to speak, then he did not need to speak again. Cold and calculating eyes stared into the humanoid's soul, as his death was assured. The crowd before them was hushed, and silent, focused intently on the man's demise. Cooler was a very high profile killer, and appreciated the audience; he'd be sure to give them a show.
Several seconds passed, before finally, his palm closed into a fist, literally ripping through the man's windpipe and separating his head from his body. Allowing both parts to hit the ground separately, Cooler's foot suddenly launched forward, kicking the head over the heads of the crowd, and into his icy courtyard. While their eyes turned to follow it, Cooler's body turned back toward his hover chair. Now that this riot was over, his comm feed would be much clearer in comparison to when he came outside. Everyone knew that he slaughtered the culprits, and there was nothing left to be discussed (except for payouts, of course).
Everyone also knew the consequences of leniency, thanks to the lesson from their lord. With his job done, perhaps he could retreat back into his personal chambers, and be free of his concerns for as long a time as possible. That surrender would require his full mental focus, later. He couldn't be worried about inept guardsmen allowing any sort of rengade into his compound. What kind of leader allowed rebels into his palace? Certainly not a firm, and demanding one. The entire thing could have been spoiled.
Not that he wouldn't have won the war anyway; things just went so much more smoothly when he had a subdued populace. They could then enter the very army he had just disciplined, and bolster his growing force. Perhaps with this newest addition, order could be properly restored to the planet Cold. It wasn't always like that. When his father had been strong and healthy, the planet was ruled with an Iron fist. Due to his father's recent disappearance, the population had grown rather rowdy.
Perhaps it was Cooler's job to fix things? Oh, how he hated taking care of business for his slacker family. Where was Frieza when he was actually needed? Probably off taking care of his monkey problem. According to recent reports, there were several Saiyans who had survived the purge of Planet Vegeta. By Purge, he meant utter destruction. By several, he meant that only Cold himself might have known how many. Frieza had always been...Sloppy, with his dealings.
So, it was no shocker to Cooler that some of his brother's most difficult subjects might have found their way through the cracks. Perhaps he should have checked their squad schedule better; or perhaps he should have been somewhat intelligent upon birth. Not all changelings hatched well, after all. Cooler had been born with certain traits, among them were Determination, Luck, natural Skill, and Intelligence. He could not say the same for his foolish, weak and unlucky brother. Frieza had exhibited none of the traits that Cooler held.
He was rash, and emotional. He was also too weak to back up his claims of dominance; Cooler had already asserted his power over his younger brother several times in the past. It was, perhaps, time to assert his dominance over him once more, and sort out the mess on their homeworld. Stepping into his personal chamber, the lord closed his doors behind him. He would allow his attendants to retrieve his hover chair. It was not imperative to his operations. Focus narrowing, he contemplated the origin of his family's most recent problem.
Was it because Father was gone? Did they think that they could take out his two children, who were almost as powerful. They couldn't even overtake his guardsmen fully. They had no chance against him, the overlord of over half the known galaxy. Surely, he could put down an almost open rebellion; all he had to do was wait for it's leaders to show themselves. Then he would deal with them faster than they could imagine.
The entire length of his might would come crashing down upon them when the time came, if the time came. He would sick it upon them without hesitation, and never look back. Cooler did not tolerate leniency, but insubordination was another thing entirely. If it were to arise; it would be dealt with before dawn of the next day.
After all, how cruel would he be to let them think they could last any longer?
WC: 4,054[/color]
A small groan escaped from between his lips, as he received yet another ping on his scouter. More and more civilian reports were coming in because of lenient guardsmen patrolling the streets. On a regular day, these reports would go through his PR wing. However, there were so many reports that they had a tendency to roll over. A batch of young justice "enthusiasts" had gotten a hold of his personal frequency, and were distributing it throughout the Imperial City. They would have to be dealt with sooner or later, on his own time. Perhaps now, would be the best? Perhaps. For now, he'd need to see what all the commotion was.
Directing his hover chair down the marble-esque steps that lead out of the Main Hall, one hand leisurely moving to remove his scouter. He couldn't bare having that infernal device hanging off of his head any longer. Too many communications were blasting through his hearing piece, piercing his ears with the shrill cries of his 'people'. They were a whiny bunch, all things considered. If he had to choose between an ice cold glass of water, and a dozen of them; his choice wouldn't be too difficult. His people were almost overly disposable, in comparison to the other resources he held in his name.
As the main doors swung open, Cooler was met with what appeared to be a local riot. Men and women of all ages were coming together to overwhelm his Castle guards, having gotten to the entrance of the castle. Quirking his brow, the lord pulled to a stop just behind the perimeter of his guards. The citizens grew even more determined as they caught sight of their lord and master. Eyes following the line of men and women, he couldn't help but wonder what about this guard problem had put them in such an uproar.
Raising a hand up from his hover chair in an almost careless fashion, he couldn't help but question whether or not they knew what was to come next. As energy began coming together just beneath his finger tips, he found delight in their widening eyes. The front line of civilians caught sight of the purple flash, and was temporarily distracted by the light. Guards began pushing them back, not that they needed any help in retreating, as they had no hope. The line behind them had no visual on Cooler's energy, and like the others at the riot, were confused.
Why would they retreat? They were already at the gates! Lord Cooler was just a few feet away, if only they could get there! The lines behind the first surged forward, shoving the guards out of the way just in time. Cooler's energy blast was almost fully formed, his palm holding steady right next to a deadly smirk, that seemed to decorate his face. This was his slaughter smirk; one he saved for those beautiful times where he was setting up to slaughter some civilians. If only they knew what was in store for them.
Cooler allowed their screams to begin before he even contemplated releasing his attack. He wanted the terror to set in, to soak his targets with it's unique stench. The only thing better than a dead target, was a target who was dead and scared. His eyes lit up with a certain fire, a fire that released every detail of his ill intent. It wasn't a fire fueled by rage, but a fire fed by his joy and utmost pleasure. It was clear to them, to anyone observing the situation, that he was finding no displeasure in his current task.
The energy released from his hand with a loud roar, almost like a cannon firing on full auto, releasing a constant stream of blasts that arced out into the crowd. They flew over the heads of Cooler's soon to be deceased crowd, exploding deeply into their ranks. Large and stunning blasts of purple heat rocked the entirety of the main gate, scattering the bodies of multiple species, while blasting others into the air. Body parts and limbs were shot through the crowd, knocking over any not instantly killed by the blasts Cooler had released.
Even louder screaming came over the air, reaching what may have been called the changeling's ears, racking his body with pangs of pleasure. They were terrified and confused, scared and worried. Their master was destroying them without so much of a second thought. Grinning wildly, Cooler continued releasing arcing blasts of energy into his quickly disappearing crowd. Less and less rioters were making noise as explosions continued to decimate their ranks, leaving behind blackened spots of blood and gore, coupled with the occasional organ.
Guards who had been quelling the riot retreated back to surround their lord, almost as if they were protecting him. That was a highly ridiculous notion; as if he needed protection. They were just his dirty workers, doing whatever he required of them, so that he didn't have to do it himself. They were little more than pawns on his chess board, taking out all the pieces he didn't enjoy seeing on his playing field.
Right now, they didn't appear to be doing too great of a job.
"Bring me the leader of this unit; Immediately!"
Almost immediately, a squad parted through the line of guardsmen. The lead man looked somewhat official, at least by the standards of Cooler's army. He had a single shoulder guard, which was ripped off at the tip. The armor was clearly a war trophy of one of the changeling's more brutal campaigns, one that he had called in reinforcements from the Home Base for. In short, this man was a loyal servant to his family, one that could be relied upon in most circumstances.
Now, Cooler was going to murder him in cold blood. He'd murder the man's entire unit if it got the message across. Civilians were supposed to have zero access to his palace, no exceptions. These men and women had made it to his front door; that was not to be accepted. It was overly clear to him that he'd have to send a message, and a strong one at that. He searched the man up and down as he approached. He had no obvious weapons on him, not that it would matter.
Cautiously, the changeling floated free of his hover-chair, lifting himself up into the air, and then landing down just in front of the device. His piercing purplish red eyes were narrowed, focused on the man and his escort. He wasn't well shaven; sporting a white goatee that fit his face somewhat well. His face appeared calm, collected, but his lord and master knew much better. He was probably scared and confused as to why Cooler would call for him. Nothing good ever came from a meeting with Cooler.
Cooler's arms were at his sides when the man reached him, his fists clenched. He was somewhat aware of the motion his tail was making, sliding along the smooth flooring behind him. It was a tick of his, one that signified annoyance and irritation. Neither one was a good sign for the unit's commander, or his escort. No doubt they would make a move to protect him, try to keep him alive for a moment longer. It was unfortunate that none of his four man escort would survive his assault. They looked like good men.
"Lord Cooler, what is it you require?"
[/b]His words were hurried, fast. He clearly suspected that he was in some kind of trouble. Cooler's silence was intended to say it all, and yet the lord still had some words left to express to this man. The changeling's tail smacked hard upon the floor, sending cracks rippling throughout. His expression had shifted from one of pleasure and sadistic glee, into one of utter disgust and distaste. He certainly hoped that he was putting on a show, enough of one to hint at what this fellow was in for.
"Civilians were at my doorstep, commander. I would like to know; how exactly, was this possible? I certainly did not allow them entry. I pray, for your sake, that you did not allow them entry?"
[/center]There was a solid difference between the tones of each man. Cooler's low, yet fluctuating tones insinuated something sinister. Meanwhile, the Commander appeared calm and collected, appearing loyal in the face of what must have surely been his end. There was no shaking, no signs of fear. He was going out like only one of Cooler's officers could have; like a man with nothing to lose. He knew the risks of being a commanding officer, and one of them just happened to be death.
"I await my answer, commander."
"M'lord, it was Lieutenant Rhylon. H-, he was murdered by the rioters, which allowed them to breach the perimeter."
[/center]Cooler's eyes locked upon his commander's, staring through the thin lens of the scouter that shielded his right eye. For what must have felt like an eon to the commander, felt like mere seconds to the lord. Cooler was used to awkward terminations, and had begun to find them rather enjoyable after one got past the whole, 'Get rid of the bodies~' thing. It really wasn't all that unpleasant, once everything was considered. It was also the easiest way to clear up mistakes. If everyone was dead, there was no one else left to blame but the guilty, and likely dead, party.
His tail sprung forward, blasting around his body to encircle the Commander's throat. His tail behaved much like a boa constrictor, constricting around his throat, while lifting him into the air. Cold eyes narrowed, Cooler spoke to his commander in a tone suggesting fierce anger, but in honesty he could have cared less what the infraction was. He simply had to make it look serious in front of his men, so that the same mistake was not made. His escort was already showing signs of distress, their arms thrown back in shock.
Cooler's arm lashed out at the Commander's body, which was filled with tension. He was reaching for his neck when the Lord's punch impacted his chest, releasing the remaining breath from his lungs. The air exploded from his lungs without any semblance of difficulty, leaving the man to suffocate beneath the pressure of his lord's tail. His men glanced back at each other, questioning themselves morally. Were they to help the man that helped keep them alive for several years, or their lord and master, who was suffocating him?
It appeared their decision was made. Hesitantly, they all rose their blasters to level with their master, shocking the rest of the guardsmen, who in turn raised their blasters at the escort squad. Cooler's arms crossed, and his eyes were averted from the man he was choking. They were ballsy enough to level their weapons at him, eh? Then perhaps they were ballsy enough to die by his hand as well. Frowning deeply, Cooler waited for the words he knew to be coming, the words that always came.
"Let him go, Lo- Cooler. Put him down, now!"
Then he laughed, that deep, almost gentle laugh. Almost however, was not close enough. It was clear he found the proposition amusing, but was it amusing enough for him to consider it? Almost.
"You want me to let him go? I beg you to come and get him; no, I implore you to come at me, and retrieve this...Leader, of yours."
They once more, glanced at each other. Were they going to go through with this? Cooler's experience told him that they would. It wasn't hard for him to tell. Nor was it going to be hard for him to slaughter these insignificant fools, once they crossed him. He'd make an example out of them, and then out of the rioters remaining outside of his compound. Narrowing his eyes, Cooler watched as their arms tensed up. They were about to fire their blasters at him.
Several blasts erupted from their blasters, exploding out into the cool air of the Plaza. Cooler's body slid to the right, evading the volley with ease, but allowing several blasts to impact the poor man he held with his tail. Had he any breath, he'd have screamed. Unfortunately, all he could do was limply clutch at his midsection and chest, where the blasts had impacted, an action which must have sufficed. Slackening his grip upon the man's neck, Cooler let him fall to the ground, his legs propelling him forward at his targets.
The men who had been observing decided to stay out of it, knowing very well how serious the repercussions were for interrupting Lord Cooler. They lowered their blasters, retreating to form a circle around the emerging scuffle. All of their eyes were forced to struggle, in their attempt to follow Cooler's assault on the escortmen. They knew that this was going to be a short fight; Lord Cooler rarely had one that lasted longer than three minutes. The crowd was swiftly filled with bets, on how long these upstarts would last.
They had to move fast, however, as Cooler intended to make swift work of them.
His body sprung forth, arm lashing out at the nearest escort, the one that spoke out in defense of his leader. Cooler's fist impacted it with heavy force, forcing his nose to cave in. He released a soft 'ugh', as his body slumped backwards, only to be halted by Cooler's next assault. His free arm reached out to grip the man's caved in face as his other pulled back, and began to pool another blast of energy within it's palm.
Expressionless, Cooler reacted as the others adjusted their blasters to him. He spun quickly, wrapping a blaster up in his tail before slinging the crippled escort at two in the back. One of them managed to duck underneath their friend's injured body, while the other was caught off guard and knocked over. His feet were knocked out from under him, and his back swiftly hit the ground.
Finally getting a grip on his situation, the escort hanging from Cooler's tail released his hand from his blaster, only to see the Lord himself spin around to react. He'd heard the soft 'click' of the release mechanism, and concluded that this unfortunate peon had gotten a smart idea. Eyes alight with a lord-like fury, Cooler sent a swift kick into the man's armored Gut, cracking the plating. His body was lifted into the air by the firm attack, not once but many times, as Cooler continued assaulting him.
Behind him, the fellow who had evaded the body was helping his friend up, speaking in hushed, worried tones.
"We need to get out of here, before he turns back to us! We need to escape, Loren."[
"We can't leave him there, to get butchered by that Monster! W- We just can't!"
"We can't leave him there, to get butchered by that Monster! W- We just can't!"
His body sprung forward, releasing a trail of energy behind it as it blasted toward Cooler, hoping to finally rid the Universe of his scourge forever. Unfortunately, his display was just a little too loud for the Overlord to ignore. Without hesitation, or even contemplation, Cooler slung his arm out, turning his body in the same, fluid motion. He felt the strength in his opponent's jaw give way, as his fist impacted it. The escort's body spun on a dime, as Cooler finally released the pent up energy he had been containing.
The wave eradicated everything in it's path, scorching through the floor and leaving a torn path in it's wake. As the energy's roar began to dissipate, the changeling considered his current situation. Those fools had entered the battle with the hopes of defeating an intergalactic ruler; it was clear to him, and likely them as well, that little hope existed for their success. Cooler was simply too powerful for them to defeat him. Was that his fault? No; was it theirs for being ungrateful little minions? Of course.
Relaxing his arm, Cooler turned toward the only remaining escort, the one who lacked internal bleeding. He strode forward confidently, his three legged feet making no noise, their sound masked by the crackle of flames, and the confused hustle and bustle of about ninety percent of the original guardsmen assigned to his palace. He had caught a few of them in the crossfire with his last attack, but that was of no consequence to him. It should have been obvious by now, that he needed little protection from assault.
The man fell back onto his hand and blaster, scrambling back across the flooring to try and reach some aid. Not that any of the men there would have helped him of course; if Lord Cooler wanted to kill him, he would kill him. There was little doubt in any of their heads about what was to occur next. The majority of the chatter was about the rapidly approaching death of the man before Cooler, and whether or not he would finish him off before the deadline was reached.
Cooler had his own deadlines. He had a surrender order to sign later in the day; he couldn't be caught covered in blood. While it would be a wonderful gimmick, it wouldn't be prudent to dirty his hoverchair with such a thing. The blood of five pathetic guardsmen was not a fitting decorative motif for his transportation. It was for this reason, that he intended to make his point, and end all of this as swiftly as possible. He had already spent his fun with the other ones, it was time to get to business.
Stomping hard upon the terrified alien's chest, Cooler glared down upon him, his intent clear. There was no way he was going to leave alive, but he would be a demonstrational aid, before his untimely demise. Slowly, Cooler bent down, grabbing the fellow by his armor, before planting his foot firmly on the ground. Lifting his visual aid into the air, Cooler cast a glance around the crowd that had gathered. He wasn't letting these men go unlectured.
"You see these fools, who have allowed their loyalty to a superior officer get the best of them? You see what happens to those who betray me, and those who fail to follow my orders. I said that no civilians are to be allowed entry to my palace; yet what has happened? A small army of them showed up at my gates, at my doorstep. Am I expected to allow this transgression to go unpunished?
"Some of you may say that they are not at fault, for their comrade's death. It is their fault entirely, and their fault alone. Their foolish decision making may have allowed an attempt on my life, and this is not something I plan to permit. Any guardsman, or corpman who allows a civillian's entry, will have to answer to my preferred form of punishment. My form of punishment, is not something you should put on your 'Christmas' lists.
"My form of punishment is something you fear approaching you in your nightmares. My punishment is the worst in the universe, and it does not allow for a punished's regression. What do you have to say for yourself, corporal?"
[/center]"Some of you may say that they are not at fault, for their comrade's death. It is their fault entirely, and their fault alone. Their foolish decision making may have allowed an attempt on my life, and this is not something I plan to permit. Any guardsman, or corpman who allows a civillian's entry, will have to answer to my preferred form of punishment. My form of punishment, is not something you should put on your 'Christmas' lists.
"My form of punishment is something you fear approaching you in your nightmares. My punishment is the worst in the universe, and it does not allow for a punished's regression. What do you have to say for yourself, corporal?"
Addressing the corporal who he held in his hand, Cooler waited for him to speak. When nothing came out, his lord and master took the liberty of encircling his windpipe with a cold, ungloved palm. If he wasn't going to take advantage of this time to speak, then he did not need to speak again. Cold and calculating eyes stared into the humanoid's soul, as his death was assured. The crowd before them was hushed, and silent, focused intently on the man's demise. Cooler was a very high profile killer, and appreciated the audience; he'd be sure to give them a show.
Several seconds passed, before finally, his palm closed into a fist, literally ripping through the man's windpipe and separating his head from his body. Allowing both parts to hit the ground separately, Cooler's foot suddenly launched forward, kicking the head over the heads of the crowd, and into his icy courtyard. While their eyes turned to follow it, Cooler's body turned back toward his hover chair. Now that this riot was over, his comm feed would be much clearer in comparison to when he came outside. Everyone knew that he slaughtered the culprits, and there was nothing left to be discussed (except for payouts, of course).
Everyone also knew the consequences of leniency, thanks to the lesson from their lord. With his job done, perhaps he could retreat back into his personal chambers, and be free of his concerns for as long a time as possible. That surrender would require his full mental focus, later. He couldn't be worried about inept guardsmen allowing any sort of rengade into his compound. What kind of leader allowed rebels into his palace? Certainly not a firm, and demanding one. The entire thing could have been spoiled.
Not that he wouldn't have won the war anyway; things just went so much more smoothly when he had a subdued populace. They could then enter the very army he had just disciplined, and bolster his growing force. Perhaps with this newest addition, order could be properly restored to the planet Cold. It wasn't always like that. When his father had been strong and healthy, the planet was ruled with an Iron fist. Due to his father's recent disappearance, the population had grown rather rowdy.
Perhaps it was Cooler's job to fix things? Oh, how he hated taking care of business for his slacker family. Where was Frieza when he was actually needed? Probably off taking care of his monkey problem. According to recent reports, there were several Saiyans who had survived the purge of Planet Vegeta. By Purge, he meant utter destruction. By several, he meant that only Cold himself might have known how many. Frieza had always been...Sloppy, with his dealings.
So, it was no shocker to Cooler that some of his brother's most difficult subjects might have found their way through the cracks. Perhaps he should have checked their squad schedule better; or perhaps he should have been somewhat intelligent upon birth. Not all changelings hatched well, after all. Cooler had been born with certain traits, among them were Determination, Luck, natural Skill, and Intelligence. He could not say the same for his foolish, weak and unlucky brother. Frieza had exhibited none of the traits that Cooler held.
He was rash, and emotional. He was also too weak to back up his claims of dominance; Cooler had already asserted his power over his younger brother several times in the past. It was, perhaps, time to assert his dominance over him once more, and sort out the mess on their homeworld. Stepping into his personal chamber, the lord closed his doors behind him. He would allow his attendants to retrieve his hover chair. It was not imperative to his operations. Focus narrowing, he contemplated the origin of his family's most recent problem.
Was it because Father was gone? Did they think that they could take out his two children, who were almost as powerful. They couldn't even overtake his guardsmen fully. They had no chance against him, the overlord of over half the known galaxy. Surely, he could put down an almost open rebellion; all he had to do was wait for it's leaders to show themselves. Then he would deal with them faster than they could imagine.
The entire length of his might would come crashing down upon them when the time came, if the time came. He would sick it upon them without hesitation, and never look back. Cooler did not tolerate leniency, but insubordination was another thing entirely. If it were to arise; it would be dealt with before dawn of the next day.
After all, how cruel would he be to let them think they could last any longer?
WC: 4,054[/color]
