Post by Son Goten on Dec 16, 2011 2:35:17 GMT -5
{ The Mission in Question }
The ticking of the clock was almost drowning out the tension, filling the ears of each man at the table. There were seven of them in total, each one sporting his share of battle scars. These men were history makers, game changers, masters of their fate. They were the masterminds behind the Rebellion on Cold. While their armies weren’t made up of nearly as many powerful warriors, they had the citizenry on their side. While Cooler had the sheer power, they had sheer numbers, and yet, here they were. They needed to mount an assault upon the Imperial City, and quickly. Cooler was growing tired of their rebellion, and actively deploying troops to battle zones.
During the deployment was the only time that his army would be in chaos; they’d be too busy shifting position and redistributing strength, that it’d be difficult for them to defend the heart of the empire. All they had to do, was take the city. Of course, that wasn’t to make it sound easy. In order to route Cooler’s forces, they’d have to defeat the overlord himself. With Frieza currently occupied, and King Cold indisposed, this would be their best shot at freedom.
Of course, their race was already freed. The Rebellion’s Cabinet consisted of Saiyans, who had recently made a resurgence in their population’s numbers. The Army had been reformed, and a detachment of commandos to conquer Cold. These men were Elites; trained in combat and the arts of espionage, they were prepared to assist the world in destroying it’s leaders, before turning on them with the same iron fisted rule. They wouldn’t have any idea of what had happened until it was too late, and King Vegeta was able to call the planet one of his.
A shift was heard, over the clock’s tick. A Saiyan leaned forward, pushing a block across the table with his prod. He was signaling for a detachment to move inside of the city, to open the gates in order to push the actual assault through. There were no arguments to his order, merely grunts of agreement. They would need to open the flood gates, for their troops to pour through. The only thing that could prevent their troops’ entry, was the arrival of Cooler on the battlefield, something that was almost sure to never happen. Changelings rarely lead from the front of the pack, after all.
“Who, the CivCorps?”
“Yeah; it’s a small unit right?”
“They’re not going to be doing the real fighting, Rogan. We are.”[/b][/center][/color]
Unable to argue with his Squad mate’s solid logic, Rogan leaned back, relaxing in his chair. Once things got thick, he’d need to lead the charge through the gates. Vargas and the rest of the crew would be just behind him, but it was still a glorious thing. To be the first Saiyan to breach the walls of the Ice Palace? There was no greater triumph for their kind. Still, something felt wrong about the entire thing. So far, the invasion had gone perfectly. Their troops had overwhelmed the guards in many Glacial Settlements, and the struggle was going on all over the world in their favor.
Cooler’s reputation was betraying him. According to his enemies, he was a fine commander, capable of repelling the most unstoppable assault; what could he have been doing in order to prove this wrong? Surely the lord was diverting his entire attention to the outbreaks? There was simply no way that their Plan A’s were all succeeding. Things were actually going well enough that they could divert some of their troops to aid in the assault on the Capital, which felt like such a trap. The others had to feel it, he was certain.
Glancing at his friends, Rogan couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their heads, as they pondered the invasion plan. Were they as…Put off, as he was? Their faces gave no indication of such notions, but his intuition told him better. They were trying to appear confident about the attack, something a Saiyan usually didn’t have to do. Releasing a breath, he pulled out from the circle. It was time to go inspect his troops before the attack, and assess his battle strength. He’d need to hurry, in order to make the deadline.
Grabbing his cape and pulling it over his shoulders, Rogan cast no backwards glances as he stepped out of the door, and into the main room of the bar. Civilians turned their heads to watch him go, their hopes and dreams on the line. It was then, that he considered his position deeply for the first time. He was responsible for the rise and fall of empires, the destruction of entire races. He was their only prayer in the universe; although he was not a noble being, he had no intention of letting them down.
Meanwhile, at a Palace positioned almost literally on the other side of the Planet Cold, Cooler sat and reviewed his dinner plans. Currently, they consisted of the following: Enjoy his fire, then draft a new set of borders for one of his provincial planets, followed by the enjoyment of his food and the small task of crushing a pesky Rebellion. Being as masterful as his reputation insinuated, he had of course acquired an insider from their armies, and had of course, known of the impending assault on his capital. Then, in a masterful move, he gave the order to lure them in faster, feigning defeat and allowing their armies to march through his cities. As soon as he got rid of the Rebellion’s leaders, his shock troops would once more regain control of the streets, in a brief but flashy display of might.
He was little more than bothered by the entire thing, as hard to believe as it must have been. While his generals had questioned and worried, he had sat back, calmly assessing the situation. Few had the backbone to directly challenge him like those Rebels, and none had survived to tell the tale. With such an overwhelming record in his favor, he had little worry about the leaders of the Rebellion. They’d show themselves to him soon enough, and when they did? He would destroy them with the same confidence and might that he always had.
However, it would require them to commit themselves at a time when they would be unable to retreat. He couldn’t have them escaping off world, or back into the catacombs and corners. Cooler was going to have to destroy them in broad daylight, in battle. While he didn’t exactly enjoy fighting it out in the trenches with his men, he had little confidence that they would be able to handle themselves against the fellows who would be rushing at them.
Just as he was about to dig into his shell fish, a News Report came crackling to life on his Holo-Screen. He didn’t even have to look to know what was going on; the Saiyans were assaulting his grand city. Placing his silver ware back upon his plate, the Lord released himself from his Hover Chair, leaping onto the ground without hesitation. It appeared that the time was nigh. The Invasion had begun, and he was to orchestrate the defense of his ‘Home’.
There were already plans for his generals to follow, to enact. His battle armor was already on, not that he would need it. It had been crafted for him specifically, in order to avoid the restrictions Armor usually placed upon soldier mobility and agility. The black plating fit his frame perfectly, with the should guards extending out past his arms. By the appearance of the suit, it had been through little use, and would be able to hold up against most barrages.
After cracking his knuckles, Cooler pulled his wrist tac-com on, placing in his call sign and password. Should something ( or someone ) arise, he would be the first one to know. His call sign was uniquely tailored to him, and no one else was capable of possessing it. Call sign Overlord was strapping up, and preparing for battle. Smirking wide, Lord Cooler turned his eyes to the skylight. While it was blast proof to protect him from any surprise attacks, he was confident that things were about to be over and done with. After all, those men were already engaging his troops on the edge of the city, just beyond the gates. By the time he arrived at the battlefield, they would be too committed to pull out of the city.
His knees bent, and his eyes turned toward the sky, at the blast proof skylight. Energy was building up in his legs, preparing him for the collision. Lord Cooler was going to shatter that wretched device, and hasten to his men, who were undoubtedly waiting on him. Still holding that wild smirk, he kicked off from his flooring, releasing a stream of glorious purple fire in his wake, which seemed to fade as he broke through the skylight. Glass fell and shattered further on he ground below him, the noise barely audible as his energy once more increased, following the trend of his speed.
By now, the Rebel Leaders must have been inside the city’s perimeter, and the gates would be preparing to close once more. According to communications chatter, his men were already positioned by one of the two gate releases. It wouldn’t be all that long before Squad Two was in position, and ready to bring the roof down upon the attacking force. Oh; how the screams brought joy to his ‘Ears’. He could already feel them inside, their voices screeching in hopelessness and despair. Once they were penned in, he would slaughter them like the cattle they were.
Smoke was rising on the horizon, coming from the site of the initial assault. Clearly, some type of explosive diversion had been arranged to divert attention away from their entry. While a smart move, it was only a temporary solution to a problem, and ineffectual when the real problem was considered. Being an intelligent life form, Lord Cooler was not fooled, or pleased, with this attempt to capture his attention. However, it was indeed a signal that his prey would fight back with some intelligence. That was something he enjoyed seeing.
They were bound to pick up on his approach; his power level stood out amongst that of his soldiers. Whereas they were rocks, he was a mountain. Still, how would they prevent his arrival? He was too agile to be hit with whatever blaster shots they sent his way, and too powerful for anything other than an army to take down. They were going to allow him to land on the field, and they were going to revel in his glorious appearance; after all, that would be their only chance of survival. He would allow any who groveled at his feet to live a little longer than the rest, perhaps even in servitude of their Lord.
And yet, it wasn’t all that likely.
The battlefield was being constantly illuminated by blaster fire, and the blast waves that Saiyan troops were creating in order to bolster the Revolutionary forces. The battle was going well for them; The Changeling’s main force was being driven back to their outer defense perimeter, inside of the city. There were many units covering the retreat, holding the line while the rest of the army fell back. Rogan had no doubt in his mind of what the tactic was; Cooler would wait for his troops to overwhelm the line, and then surge forward with his army. Such a tactic was shocking and effective, but risky. If Rogan’s men could stop the flow of manpower, then the Planetary Trade Army would take a heavy blow to their morale.
Drawing a line in the dirt, he motioned to a nearby unit commander, indicating where to send his troops. The man was an old civilian, inexperienced in battle, but a quick learner. With the right amount of time, he may end up available for institution in the Saiyan Foreign Legion. Rogan was not holding his breath, however. Something still felt wrong about the entire thing. Cooler’s men were taking such low casualties in comparison to his men, and yet they continued to retreat.
Rogan was caught in deep thought when one of his aides approached his base, in the bottom of a crater he had formed. It offered cover against any blaster fire that might have otherwise proved troublesome for him. Thankfully, his men were holding the line against what seemed like a reluctant army. Casting the man a glance, Rogan placed his hands on his hips, dropping the hand he had used to carve his lines in the ground. He wouldn’t be needing it; he had his own, after all.
It was then that he sensed Cooler’s approaching power level; it was massive by all indications. Shivers rocked his spine as he turned to the direction that his inbound opponent was coming from. So that was why Vargas wanted him to withdraw; while it was a valid reason for any commander to pull out from the battle field, Rogan had other plans. If he could take down Cooler…The entire army would route, and he would be the most famous Saiyan in history.
---[/center]
As the Leader of the Planetary Trade touched down on the ground, things were going according to plan. The last of his men were pulling back to the Outer Defense Perimeter, just behind him. The Rebel Forces had yet to approach, but he could vaguely feel a power level approaching him. Scouters behind him were acquiring readings of this approaching strength, knowing better than to gauge Cooler’s. Whoever this fellow was, he was a natural born fighter. The confrontation would prove entertaining after all; especially if he was coming out to face Cooler alone.
If that was the case, he was as foolish as previously thought. Satisfaction racked the Changeling’s body, creating almost pure and unadulterated glee, almost childlike in nature. Almost, however, was not close enough. His glee came from the predetermined suffering that this fellow was going to suffer by his hand, while the armies of both men watched. Oh; he would die slowly and painfully, a death befitting any who would oppose the Lord of Cold.
After what felt like an eternity, the being who led the Rebellion showed himself. It was a Saiyan; that was something Cooler should have predicted. Their race was always a troublesome bunch of monkeys, intent on spitting in the eye of their rulers. Unfortunately for him, this fellow had just earned a second genocide. While the Saiyan population had just started to re-emerge, Cooler had just created a mental note for their destruction. Their complete destruction. Frieza had been to lenient and caught up in his own thoughts to notice several pods escaping the planet. This time, they would not be so lucky.
His eyes narrowed, and grew fixed upon the monkey that lead the rebellion. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to launch into some kind of conceited speech, about how his reign of Tyranny was over? That would just be cliché, and serve to prolong the inevitable. Heroes always had that sort of thing about them; the need to appear Noble and Glorious in the face of death. He was, after all, staring what may as well have been certain death in the eyes.
As Cooler stared into black pools of brooding anger, he couldn’t help but allow his smirk to disappear. This man was serious in his intent to challenge him; while unfortunate for Saiyan-Kind, his eradication would be a favor to the universe. Men like this had no position in life, if they lived only to rock the boat. As he would soon discover, Cooler’s boat was far too large to be rocked, or thrown off course. He was going to rule the entire Galaxy, whether this fellow wanted him to or not.
Snarling, Cooler did just that. Launching himself across the battle field, he could practically see the little monkey shaking. His opponent had clearly not thought this fight through, before challenging him in such a direct manner. It was for this, that Cooler considered briefly pitying the poor man, and leaving his body to hang for two weeks, as opposed to three. However, he knew that the poor fool had done it to himself, and deserved no lax sentence.
His body exploded into motion as he got within striking range of his foe, his fists flying out in a blur toward his opponent. The first blow managed to strike the Saiyan’s chest, stumbling him but having little effect otherwise. It was after this that his guard seemed to raise, and his strength returned to him. Raising an arm, the Saiyan blocked Cooler’s second and third strikes, before replying with a hard jab directed at the Changeling’s jaw line, a tactic that would usually be effective.
Being far superior to his opponent, Cooler had little difficulty dodging, and threw his entire body into a downward punch that had been laced with rapidly charged ki energy. It rocked the monkey’s frame, sending him crashing to the ground. Smoke and dust rose out around him as he hit the icy concrete, cracking it with the force of his landing. It was obvious that such a transgression as Rebellious intent was not to permitted. Nor was a direct challenge to the future Ruler of the Galaxy.
Still snarling as he lashed out with a kick to his opponent’s downed body, Cooler attempted to keep himself collected. If he got carried away with smashing this ungrateful little ape, he would look as though he enjoyed this. In truth, he despised having to deal with these kinds of troublesome problems himself. These things should have been taken care of before his arrival, by his men. Unfortunately, such things were not always possible, as evidenced by the man skidding on the concrete before him. It had already been made evident that Cooler was going to be the victor of this battle, and any wise observers would already be preparing to flee, before his attention was set upon his next victim(s). Springing forward a few steps, he brought both palms together in preparations for what he obviously felt to be his coup de grace.
It was almost disappointing for him, to be ending the battle so quickly. The monkey had shown no true strength; he had been all talk, something that had been truly unfortunate. This man was offering him little exercise and sport, making his arrival even less worth the trip he had made to get there. If the other leaders were as weak as he was, the entire Rebellion could be crushed by the end of the day, and he could still have time to make it back to his dinner, which was undoubtedly growing cold in his absence.
“Begone, Monkey!”, Cooler’s words echoed across the tense air, as the Saiyan ceased his skid. His black hair was filled with small pieces of concrete, that fell out as he shook his head. The scouter that had been covering his eye at the beginning of the battle was lying on the ground somewhere, likely in the path he had just followed. With the widening of his eyes, it was obvious that he could see Cooler’s amassing energy, which was rising in red and purple globules.
Determined to go out with a fight, Rogan rose his palm up in retaliation, releasing a quickly charged pulse of power toward his opponent. The blast emerged from his hand with a gentle hum, zig zagging through the air and leaving a blue tail to follow behind it. Cooler’s blast emerged just after Rogan’s, breaking free of his hands with high recoil that sent the Lord’s hands into the air, and heading straight for the Saiyan’s ball of energy.
They met in the center of the road, creating shockwaves that broke glass free of windows lining the street. Ice beneath the epicenter melted with the collision, and allowed concrete to be shed away by the power of the combatant’s struggling blasts, which were fighting fiercely for dominance. If Rogan could over power Cooler’s attack, then he could still defeat the Changeling, and lead his rebellion to victory- if he could just over power him.
Without responding, Cooler placed a hand on his wrist, quickly siphoning energy into his hand like a gun burning fire powder. Releasing a second, high recoil bolt, he allowed it to collide with the struggling blasts, forcing a loud and noisy explosion. Concrete and ice were torn away under the pressure, and the air itself was sucked free of the blast radius, leaving no smoke to take it’s place. As sparks of energy subsided, the Changeling released a third and final blast, which went sailing through what had been the epicenter of a captivating tussle just seconds prior.
Rogan’s hands flew up, catching the bolt with much difficulty. At first, it appeared as though he may have been able to repel it; it was quickly apparent however, that this would not be the case. As it began shoving him further back along the concrete, Cooler turned. He knew the outcome of the explosion before it even happened. He did not need to turn and watch the man go skidding through the crowd, and take out a large group with the explosive force of Cooler’s blast. All he wanted was for his men to retrieve the remains of the body, preferably the head, and hang it from his palace.
Wasn’t that a humble enough request? It wasn’t as though he was asking for all of the Rebellion’s leaders’ heads on plates; he would get that for his next evening dinner. After all, with their numbers dwindling, and their armies trapped inside of the City, it wasn’t as if they had anywhere to escape to. It was but a matter of time before he had access to their bodies, and perhaps a survivor; without a source of knowledge to extract it from, he would never know whether or not this had been an officially planned invasion.
Had the invasion been official, retaliation would be necessary. Cooler was not one to take an assault on his Home World lying down; nor was he one to leave survivors in the wake of his assault. King Vegeta would learn his lesson for trying to be rid of him, if it had been he who had given the order, and even if it had been another. The monkeys had outlived their usefulness anyway, and one knew what was to be done with obsolete peoples, just like technologies.
They had to be disposed of.
[/color]
WC: 4,025
The ticking of the clock was almost drowning out the tension, filling the ears of each man at the table. There were seven of them in total, each one sporting his share of battle scars. These men were history makers, game changers, masters of their fate. They were the masterminds behind the Rebellion on Cold. While their armies weren’t made up of nearly as many powerful warriors, they had the citizenry on their side. While Cooler had the sheer power, they had sheer numbers, and yet, here they were. They needed to mount an assault upon the Imperial City, and quickly. Cooler was growing tired of their rebellion, and actively deploying troops to battle zones.
During the deployment was the only time that his army would be in chaos; they’d be too busy shifting position and redistributing strength, that it’d be difficult for them to defend the heart of the empire. All they had to do, was take the city. Of course, that wasn’t to make it sound easy. In order to route Cooler’s forces, they’d have to defeat the overlord himself. With Frieza currently occupied, and King Cold indisposed, this would be their best shot at freedom.
Of course, their race was already freed. The Rebellion’s Cabinet consisted of Saiyans, who had recently made a resurgence in their population’s numbers. The Army had been reformed, and a detachment of commandos to conquer Cold. These men were Elites; trained in combat and the arts of espionage, they were prepared to assist the world in destroying it’s leaders, before turning on them with the same iron fisted rule. They wouldn’t have any idea of what had happened until it was too late, and King Vegeta was able to call the planet one of his.
A shift was heard, over the clock’s tick. A Saiyan leaned forward, pushing a block across the table with his prod. He was signaling for a detachment to move inside of the city, to open the gates in order to push the actual assault through. There were no arguments to his order, merely grunts of agreement. They would need to open the flood gates, for their troops to pour through. The only thing that could prevent their troops’ entry, was the arrival of Cooler on the battlefield, something that was almost sure to never happen. Changelings rarely lead from the front of the pack, after all.
“Do you think they’re going to make it, Vargas?”
“Who, the CivCorps?”
“Yeah; it’s a small unit right?”
“They’re not going to be doing the real fighting, Rogan. We are.”[/b][/center][/color]
Unable to argue with his Squad mate’s solid logic, Rogan leaned back, relaxing in his chair. Once things got thick, he’d need to lead the charge through the gates. Vargas and the rest of the crew would be just behind him, but it was still a glorious thing. To be the first Saiyan to breach the walls of the Ice Palace? There was no greater triumph for their kind. Still, something felt wrong about the entire thing. So far, the invasion had gone perfectly. Their troops had overwhelmed the guards in many Glacial Settlements, and the struggle was going on all over the world in their favor.
Cooler’s reputation was betraying him. According to his enemies, he was a fine commander, capable of repelling the most unstoppable assault; what could he have been doing in order to prove this wrong? Surely the lord was diverting his entire attention to the outbreaks? There was simply no way that their Plan A’s were all succeeding. Things were actually going well enough that they could divert some of their troops to aid in the assault on the Capital, which felt like such a trap. The others had to feel it, he was certain.
Glancing at his friends, Rogan couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their heads, as they pondered the invasion plan. Were they as…Put off, as he was? Their faces gave no indication of such notions, but his intuition told him better. They were trying to appear confident about the attack, something a Saiyan usually didn’t have to do. Releasing a breath, he pulled out from the circle. It was time to go inspect his troops before the attack, and assess his battle strength. He’d need to hurry, in order to make the deadline.
Grabbing his cape and pulling it over his shoulders, Rogan cast no backwards glances as he stepped out of the door, and into the main room of the bar. Civilians turned their heads to watch him go, their hopes and dreams on the line. It was then, that he considered his position deeply for the first time. He was responsible for the rise and fall of empires, the destruction of entire races. He was their only prayer in the universe; although he was not a noble being, he had no intention of letting them down.
Lord Cooler was going to die by his hand, tonight.
---
Meanwhile, at a Palace positioned almost literally on the other side of the Planet Cold, Cooler sat and reviewed his dinner plans. Currently, they consisted of the following: Enjoy his fire, then draft a new set of borders for one of his provincial planets, followed by the enjoyment of his food and the small task of crushing a pesky Rebellion. Being as masterful as his reputation insinuated, he had of course acquired an insider from their armies, and had of course, known of the impending assault on his capital. Then, in a masterful move, he gave the order to lure them in faster, feigning defeat and allowing their armies to march through his cities. As soon as he got rid of the Rebellion’s leaders, his shock troops would once more regain control of the streets, in a brief but flashy display of might.
He was little more than bothered by the entire thing, as hard to believe as it must have been. While his generals had questioned and worried, he had sat back, calmly assessing the situation. Few had the backbone to directly challenge him like those Rebels, and none had survived to tell the tale. With such an overwhelming record in his favor, he had little worry about the leaders of the Rebellion. They’d show themselves to him soon enough, and when they did? He would destroy them with the same confidence and might that he always had.
However, it would require them to commit themselves at a time when they would be unable to retreat. He couldn’t have them escaping off world, or back into the catacombs and corners. Cooler was going to have to destroy them in broad daylight, in battle. While he didn’t exactly enjoy fighting it out in the trenches with his men, he had little confidence that they would be able to handle themselves against the fellows who would be rushing at them.
Just as he was about to dig into his shell fish, a News Report came crackling to life on his Holo-Screen. He didn’t even have to look to know what was going on; the Saiyans were assaulting his grand city. Placing his silver ware back upon his plate, the Lord released himself from his Hover Chair, leaping onto the ground without hesitation. It appeared that the time was nigh. The Invasion had begun, and he was to orchestrate the defense of his ‘Home’.
There were already plans for his generals to follow, to enact. His battle armor was already on, not that he would need it. It had been crafted for him specifically, in order to avoid the restrictions Armor usually placed upon soldier mobility and agility. The black plating fit his frame perfectly, with the should guards extending out past his arms. By the appearance of the suit, it had been through little use, and would be able to hold up against most barrages.
After cracking his knuckles, Cooler pulled his wrist tac-com on, placing in his call sign and password. Should something ( or someone ) arise, he would be the first one to know. His call sign was uniquely tailored to him, and no one else was capable of possessing it. Call sign Overlord was strapping up, and preparing for battle. Smirking wide, Lord Cooler turned his eyes to the skylight. While it was blast proof to protect him from any surprise attacks, he was confident that things were about to be over and done with. After all, those men were already engaging his troops on the edge of the city, just beyond the gates. By the time he arrived at the battlefield, they would be too committed to pull out of the city.
”Callsign Overlord to Main base; fall back to outer security positions. I am approaching the battlefield.”
His knees bent, and his eyes turned toward the sky, at the blast proof skylight. Energy was building up in his legs, preparing him for the collision. Lord Cooler was going to shatter that wretched device, and hasten to his men, who were undoubtedly waiting on him. Still holding that wild smirk, he kicked off from his flooring, releasing a stream of glorious purple fire in his wake, which seemed to fade as he broke through the skylight. Glass fell and shattered further on he ground below him, the noise barely audible as his energy once more increased, following the trend of his speed.
By now, the Rebel Leaders must have been inside the city’s perimeter, and the gates would be preparing to close once more. According to communications chatter, his men were already positioned by one of the two gate releases. It wouldn’t be all that long before Squad Two was in position, and ready to bring the roof down upon the attacking force. Oh; how the screams brought joy to his ‘Ears’. He could already feel them inside, their voices screeching in hopelessness and despair. Once they were penned in, he would slaughter them like the cattle they were.
Smoke was rising on the horizon, coming from the site of the initial assault. Clearly, some type of explosive diversion had been arranged to divert attention away from their entry. While a smart move, it was only a temporary solution to a problem, and ineffectual when the real problem was considered. Being an intelligent life form, Lord Cooler was not fooled, or pleased, with this attempt to capture his attention. However, it was indeed a signal that his prey would fight back with some intelligence. That was something he enjoyed seeing.
They were bound to pick up on his approach; his power level stood out amongst that of his soldiers. Whereas they were rocks, he was a mountain. Still, how would they prevent his arrival? He was too agile to be hit with whatever blaster shots they sent his way, and too powerful for anything other than an army to take down. They were going to allow him to land on the field, and they were going to revel in his glorious appearance; after all, that would be their only chance of survival. He would allow any who groveled at his feet to live a little longer than the rest, perhaps even in servitude of their Lord.
And yet, it wasn’t all that likely.
---
The battlefield was being constantly illuminated by blaster fire, and the blast waves that Saiyan troops were creating in order to bolster the Revolutionary forces. The battle was going well for them; The Changeling’s main force was being driven back to their outer defense perimeter, inside of the city. There were many units covering the retreat, holding the line while the rest of the army fell back. Rogan had no doubt in his mind of what the tactic was; Cooler would wait for his troops to overwhelm the line, and then surge forward with his army. Such a tactic was shocking and effective, but risky. If Rogan’s men could stop the flow of manpower, then the Planetary Trade Army would take a heavy blow to their morale.
Drawing a line in the dirt, he motioned to a nearby unit commander, indicating where to send his troops. The man was an old civilian, inexperienced in battle, but a quick learner. With the right amount of time, he may end up available for institution in the Saiyan Foreign Legion. Rogan was not holding his breath, however. Something still felt wrong about the entire thing. Cooler’s men were taking such low casualties in comparison to his men, and yet they continued to retreat.
Rogan was caught in deep thought when one of his aides approached his base, in the bottom of a crater he had formed. It offered cover against any blaster fire that might have otherwise proved troublesome for him. Thankfully, his men were holding the line against what seemed like a reluctant army. Casting the man a glance, Rogan placed his hands on his hips, dropping the hand he had used to carve his lines in the ground. He wouldn’t be needing it; he had his own, after all.
“Rogan; an urgent message from Vargas. He wants you to fall back, and get out of the city.”
“Is he insane? We’re almost halfway there. The attack is going so well- what could make him want to fall back?”
“Is he insane? We’re almost halfway there. The attack is going so well- what could make him want to fall back?”
It was then that he sensed Cooler’s approaching power level; it was massive by all indications. Shivers rocked his spine as he turned to the direction that his inbound opponent was coming from. So that was why Vargas wanted him to withdraw; while it was a valid reason for any commander to pull out from the battle field, Rogan had other plans. If he could take down Cooler…The entire army would route, and he would be the most famous Saiyan in history.
”Tell Vargas to fuck off.”
It was going to be his desire for glory, that would prove lethal.
---[/center]
As the Leader of the Planetary Trade touched down on the ground, things were going according to plan. The last of his men were pulling back to the Outer Defense Perimeter, just behind him. The Rebel Forces had yet to approach, but he could vaguely feel a power level approaching him. Scouters behind him were acquiring readings of this approaching strength, knowing better than to gauge Cooler’s. Whoever this fellow was, he was a natural born fighter. The confrontation would prove entertaining after all; especially if he was coming out to face Cooler alone.
If that was the case, he was as foolish as previously thought. Satisfaction racked the Changeling’s body, creating almost pure and unadulterated glee, almost childlike in nature. Almost, however, was not close enough. His glee came from the predetermined suffering that this fellow was going to suffer by his hand, while the armies of both men watched. Oh; he would die slowly and painfully, a death befitting any who would oppose the Lord of Cold.
After what felt like an eternity, the being who led the Rebellion showed himself. It was a Saiyan; that was something Cooler should have predicted. Their race was always a troublesome bunch of monkeys, intent on spitting in the eye of their rulers. Unfortunately for him, this fellow had just earned a second genocide. While the Saiyan population had just started to re-emerge, Cooler had just created a mental note for their destruction. Their complete destruction. Frieza had been to lenient and caught up in his own thoughts to notice several pods escaping the planet. This time, they would not be so lucky.
His eyes narrowed, and grew fixed upon the monkey that lead the rebellion. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to launch into some kind of conceited speech, about how his reign of Tyranny was over? That would just be cliché, and serve to prolong the inevitable. Heroes always had that sort of thing about them; the need to appear Noble and Glorious in the face of death. He was, after all, staring what may as well have been certain death in the eyes.
As Cooler stared into black pools of brooding anger, he couldn’t help but allow his smirk to disappear. This man was serious in his intent to challenge him; while unfortunate for Saiyan-Kind, his eradication would be a favor to the universe. Men like this had no position in life, if they lived only to rock the boat. As he would soon discover, Cooler’s boat was far too large to be rocked, or thrown off course. He was going to rule the entire Galaxy, whether this fellow wanted him to or not.
“Saiyan; I give you one chance to stand down. However, know that this is not a chance for your survival- it is merely the chance for a quick death. No one will blame you for accepting your defeat here, and submitting to my will. Many stronger have given in to my might, and many will continue. If you have any sense, you will accept my offer. Surely, you do not think you have a chance against me? I have destroyed a thousand empires, and I shall destroy a thousand more before you have the slightest chance of de-”
“Quit your chatter, Cooler! If you’re ready to taste the might of the Saiyan Empire, come my way!”
“Quit your chatter, Cooler! If you’re ready to taste the might of the Saiyan Empire, come my way!”
Snarling, Cooler did just that. Launching himself across the battle field, he could practically see the little monkey shaking. His opponent had clearly not thought this fight through, before challenging him in such a direct manner. It was for this, that Cooler considered briefly pitying the poor man, and leaving his body to hang for two weeks, as opposed to three. However, he knew that the poor fool had done it to himself, and deserved no lax sentence.
His body exploded into motion as he got within striking range of his foe, his fists flying out in a blur toward his opponent. The first blow managed to strike the Saiyan’s chest, stumbling him but having little effect otherwise. It was after this that his guard seemed to raise, and his strength returned to him. Raising an arm, the Saiyan blocked Cooler’s second and third strikes, before replying with a hard jab directed at the Changeling’s jaw line, a tactic that would usually be effective.
Being far superior to his opponent, Cooler had little difficulty dodging, and threw his entire body into a downward punch that had been laced with rapidly charged ki energy. It rocked the monkey’s frame, sending him crashing to the ground. Smoke and dust rose out around him as he hit the icy concrete, cracking it with the force of his landing. It was obvious that such a transgression as Rebellious intent was not to permitted. Nor was a direct challenge to the future Ruler of the Galaxy.
Still snarling as he lashed out with a kick to his opponent’s downed body, Cooler attempted to keep himself collected. If he got carried away with smashing this ungrateful little ape, he would look as though he enjoyed this. In truth, he despised having to deal with these kinds of troublesome problems himself. These things should have been taken care of before his arrival, by his men. Unfortunately, such things were not always possible, as evidenced by the man skidding on the concrete before him. It had already been made evident that Cooler was going to be the victor of this battle, and any wise observers would already be preparing to flee, before his attention was set upon his next victim(s). Springing forward a few steps, he brought both palms together in preparations for what he obviously felt to be his coup de grace.
It was almost disappointing for him, to be ending the battle so quickly. The monkey had shown no true strength; he had been all talk, something that had been truly unfortunate. This man was offering him little exercise and sport, making his arrival even less worth the trip he had made to get there. If the other leaders were as weak as he was, the entire Rebellion could be crushed by the end of the day, and he could still have time to make it back to his dinner, which was undoubtedly growing cold in his absence.
“Begone, Monkey!”, Cooler’s words echoed across the tense air, as the Saiyan ceased his skid. His black hair was filled with small pieces of concrete, that fell out as he shook his head. The scouter that had been covering his eye at the beginning of the battle was lying on the ground somewhere, likely in the path he had just followed. With the widening of his eyes, it was obvious that he could see Cooler’s amassing energy, which was rising in red and purple globules.
Determined to go out with a fight, Rogan rose his palm up in retaliation, releasing a quickly charged pulse of power toward his opponent. The blast emerged from his hand with a gentle hum, zig zagging through the air and leaving a blue tail to follow behind it. Cooler’s blast emerged just after Rogan’s, breaking free of his hands with high recoil that sent the Lord’s hands into the air, and heading straight for the Saiyan’s ball of energy.
They met in the center of the road, creating shockwaves that broke glass free of windows lining the street. Ice beneath the epicenter melted with the collision, and allowed concrete to be shed away by the power of the combatant’s struggling blasts, which were fighting fiercely for dominance. If Rogan could over power Cooler’s attack, then he could still defeat the Changeling, and lead his rebellion to victory- if he could just over power him.
Was he to let all of those people suffer under the Changeling’s rule, instead of his glorious King’s?
”Prepare yourself, Changeling!"
[/b]Without responding, Cooler placed a hand on his wrist, quickly siphoning energy into his hand like a gun burning fire powder. Releasing a second, high recoil bolt, he allowed it to collide with the struggling blasts, forcing a loud and noisy explosion. Concrete and ice were torn away under the pressure, and the air itself was sucked free of the blast radius, leaving no smoke to take it’s place. As sparks of energy subsided, the Changeling released a third and final blast, which went sailing through what had been the epicenter of a captivating tussle just seconds prior.
Rogan’s hands flew up, catching the bolt with much difficulty. At first, it appeared as though he may have been able to repel it; it was quickly apparent however, that this would not be the case. As it began shoving him further back along the concrete, Cooler turned. He knew the outcome of the explosion before it even happened. He did not need to turn and watch the man go skidding through the crowd, and take out a large group with the explosive force of Cooler’s blast. All he wanted was for his men to retrieve the remains of the body, preferably the head, and hang it from his palace.
Wasn’t that a humble enough request? It wasn’t as though he was asking for all of the Rebellion’s leaders’ heads on plates; he would get that for his next evening dinner. After all, with their numbers dwindling, and their armies trapped inside of the City, it wasn’t as if they had anywhere to escape to. It was but a matter of time before he had access to their bodies, and perhaps a survivor; without a source of knowledge to extract it from, he would never know whether or not this had been an officially planned invasion.
Had the invasion been official, retaliation would be necessary. Cooler was not one to take an assault on his Home World lying down; nor was he one to leave survivors in the wake of his assault. King Vegeta would learn his lesson for trying to be rid of him, if it had been he who had given the order, and even if it had been another. The monkeys had outlived their usefulness anyway, and one knew what was to be done with obsolete peoples, just like technologies.
They had to be disposed of.
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WC: 4,025
