Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Ransom Due ❯ Rope A Dope ( Chapter 7 )

 

 

Ransom Due - Chapter 7 - Rope-a-Dope

 

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The main event of the tournament proved to be at least a little bit easier for Lunch to watch, when she could actually discern what the combatants were doing. Most of them moved far too quickly for her to follow unless she exercised an extreme amount of concentration, which had perhaps distracted her enough to overlook the sheer brutality of the contests. Unlike the tournaments she was accustomed to, these bouts had very few rules, if any. There was no designated `out of bounds.' The combatants need only keep within the confines of the vast arena. Some of the matches seemed to last forever, as the opposing parties simply pounded on each other until one or the other could no longer move, much less fend off an attacker. The winners of each match did not move on to another, it seemed that their one assigned bout was all they would get to show the audience just what they were made of. She never did figure out how the ultimate decision of choosing an overall tournament winner was calculated. The losers of each bout were most often carted off to a regen chamber, if they were fortunate. In fact, the one edict that characterized the whole of the event was that Freiza himself was always deferred to before the implementation of a killing strike, and such permission seemed to be rare.

 

The consequences of breaking this one rule were demonstrated not to long into the succession of fights when one of the contestants, and insectiod creature, stepped into the path of its opponent's ki blast. Either that or the blast, which seemed errant and uncontrolled, certainly by the standard she had been familiar with set by her friends back on Earth, had actually hit its intended mark. Perhaps the dumpy wart infested favorite for that particular match had underestimated the force of the blast. In any case, the insectoid's exoskeleton shattered upon the indirect impact, the backlash of which continued on to plow through a sizable chunk of the first few rows of the stands. A deathly silence descended upon the arena once again as the remaining contestant stood slack jawed, shards of exoskeleton and dollops of milky innards raining down upon him and the spectators at the edge of the impact radius lucky enough to escape death themselves. Before the debris had settled, it seemed the presiding tyrant had simply, and once again almost imperceptibly, lifted a finger. Abruptly, the intended winner of the match fell over backwards, hitting the ground along with the last of the fragments of his opponent. The crowd erupted again with cheering as the bout was declared in default. The holo-screens afforded spectators of a close up of the fallen champion as his body was hauled out of the arena. The only evidence of his demise was the trickle of blood from a small precise hole directly between his eyes.

 

Shortly before Raditzu's match, the sallow, one-eyed slave with the supply cart returned on another set of rounds. This time the cart was piled with clean rags, stacks of shallow basins and bottled water. It handed her one of each, then when it seemed satisfied that her master wasn't really paying any attention to the exchange, it croaked quietly that she probably wouldn't need them. It followed this with concise directions to the regen tanks on the next level down.

 

Raditzu was alternately looking through the crack in the wall and the nearest holo-screen, though it had been obvious that most of what he was following in relation to the current match was coming across through his scouter. She had given up on watching the fight taking place shortly after it started because it had quickly become apparent that it was one that she would be unable to follow. She'd had a sense that the combatants were a lot more powerful than any in the previous fights, even before all the scouters around had started chirping with audible warnings. She found herself somewhat disappointed after checking the roster ticking by on the bottom of the holo-images because both participants were listed with power levels well over and above even Captain Daax, and the silly posturing one of them did before any of the action started was enough to make her wonder about his fighting style.

 

Another bone jarring explosion and uproar from the crowd signaled what must have been the conclusion of the fight. When Raditzu turned away from the wall she was surprised to see he was laughing at something. He'd shaken his head slightly and said something like “looks like Ginyu's leaving a lot prettier than he showed up…” Then he seemed to have suddenly remembered that she was the only one in the vicinity to hear him and that she was not allowed in on whatever the joke was. He'd abruptly become silent and the stern frown returned. She glanced over at the holo-screens anyway and saw that the purple thing with horns that had been slated as the looser was the combatant who remained standing, and strangely it was performing an exact reproduction of the outlandish posing its opponent had begun the match with.

 

“Don't even think of leaving this section until they drag me out of that arena, in which case I expect you to meet me coming out of regen,” Raditzu grumbled at her as he turned on his heel to head out for his fight. As he turned around she noticed the tip of his tail as it curved slightly upward and twitched several times, indicating to her that he intended to walk out of the arena rather than be dragged.

 

She almost reflexively replied with “break a leg,” but she bit her tongue. She knew he couldn't have cared less if she'd wished him luck, and such a genial colloquialism would probably just infuriate him, but the whole situation seemed oddly empty to her. She'd wondered then for a moment just why she even cared what happened to him out there, and then she remembered that if for some reason he perished, as bad as he was, there were all kinds of worse things all around her.

 

The purple combatant was finally vacating the arena when announcements for the next fight started. She had already been well aware of the statistics, but she was taken aback somewhat when the favored opponent entered the arena. He had wrinkly skin with a bluish cast, beady black eyes and a sparse unruly tuft of black hair that sprouted from the top of his head between two similar horns to the victor that had just previously left the arena. What concerned her the most was that this creature positively dwarfed her master, even with its horrible stooped over posture. Logically she knew size was relative in the scheme of things in that place, as one look at the diminutive tyrant in his box seats confirmed. That didn't make the intimidating outward appearance of the creature called Agavé any less disconcerting. It didn't help that the spectators were thunderously chanting the favorite's name as they had for all of the slated winners.

 

It seemed like there had been a second's delay after the start of the fight was declared as the combatants sized each other up, then suddenly both charged, and she lost sight of them momentarily. She'd been squinting and trying to catch up with the action when she realized the expected clash had never happened. As big as Agavé was, it didn't seem to slow him down any. When she finally was able to make out what was going on she saw that he'd not only sidestepped Raditzu entirely, he'd gained purchase on the Saiya-jin's wild mass of hair and flung him in the opposite direction. Undaunted, Raditzu used the force of his ki to slow himself down before he wound up in the stands, then beckoned the wrinkled behemoth to make another move.

 

Agavé seemed all too happy to oblige with a volley of ki blasts, clearly at a lower energy level than he was capable of producing. Raditzu simply strafed away from the majority of the rapidly moving energy balls, much to the dismay of the first row of spectators, and slapped the last of the barrage back in the direction from whence it had come. It seemed as though Agavé finally decided to get serious, and made another charge, engaging the Saiya-jin in a close up exchange of punches as the two flew up towards the heights of the arena. Lunch lost sight of them again, but fortunately the holo-screens had focused on their ascent.

 

Agavé was throwing powerful uppercut punches one after the other in combination with some quick jabs, but he only seemed to be landing a little less than half of them. It would have appeared to the audience that Raditzu was completely invested in the action of blocking all the punches, but she knew he was probably investing more into not letting his ki rise somewhat if not skyrocket altogether, which had the potential to bring the fight to a rapid end and possibly prematurely dispatch his opponent. Aside from the danger of becoming the purveyor of an untimely kill, she was under the distinct impression that if Raditzu was going to pull off a victory here, he was going to have to be careful about it. As much as power mattered here, the status quo seemed to matter as much or more, and stepping out of line was clearly something Freiza and those close to him did not take kindly to. Although it was apparent that 3300 was by no means an exorbitant power level in comparison to some of the heavy hitters here, it was a far cry from the 1600 Raditzu had checked in to the fights with officially, and there was no telling what kind of reprisal would result from flaunting such a blatant discrepancy.

 

The high altitude exchange of blows and parries lasted for quite a while before Raditzu disengaged from his mammoth opponent and leveled a snap kick directly at the small of his back when given a slight opening, showing that he was no slouch in the speed department either. Agavé went spiraling out of control back towards the floor of the arena as Raditzu pressed both palms downward and sent a moderately powered stream of ki energy searing towards him. Agavé wasn't able to right himself before the impact, which sent him hurtling into the floor of the arena. He wound up at the bottom of a deep crater in the already battered dirt surface, but didn't seem to be any worse for the wear.

 

Lunch wasn't sure if the turn the fight took next was planned or just the natural progression of the contest because she was unable to follow some of the rapid movements. Raditzu had come back down to ground level behind his opponent as he was picking himself up out of the crater, and took the opportunity to send another stream of ki at the blue giant. Somehow, Agavé managed to turn around before the blast connected and opened his mouth… swallowing the ki energy in its entirety. She wasn't completely sure, but that's what it looked like had happened. This maneuver must have surprised Raditzu as well, because there was a split second when he hesitated, leaving himself wide open. Agavé took the proffered opening and spat the energy it appeared he'd just swallowed back towards his opponent. He must have enhanced the beam with a modicum of his own power, because it was obviously devastating. To Raditzu's credit, he made a good show of trying to block the massive burst without powering up any. This didn't even delay the effect of the blast, which sent him tumbling backward and plowing across the dirt, leaving a chasm in his wake.

 

Agavé went right after him, and started pounding his supine body with over handed blows delivered courtesy of cudgel-like fists. He continued in this manner until the ground fissured around the slowly growing depression, and it seemed fatigue was slowing him. The close up views on the holo-screens showed a perceptible labor in his breathing as he paused in his onslaught, evidently trusting what Lunch knew had to have been an erroneously low reading on his scouter. All of a sudden, the ground exploded, and the next thing Lunch saw was that Raditzu had the giant's neck in a lock and clotheslined him across the dirt all the way to the other side of the arena. When the wall that divided the floor from the rise of the stands finally halted them, the Saiya-jin somehow got a hold of one of Agavé's horns in each hand and repeatedly brought the massive head down while thrusting upward with his knee.

 

The noise of the crowd had settled to little more than a murmur as most of the audience was trying to figure out how the slated looser had gone from almost completely spent to slightly above full power. The sickening wet crack of Agavé's face getting smashed to a pulp was momentarily audible, which seemed to draw the spectators back into a frenzy. The blue giant attempted to bring his hands up to shield himself from the blows, but Raditzu jerked the head upwards, let go to slap the hands away and used that opening to plant his foot squarely in the center of the broad chest and drive Agavé to the floor, whereupon he ground his full weight into the brute's solar plexus. The huge frame of the alien writhed helplessly for a few seconds, the sausage-like fingers uselessly clawing at the dirt, and then settled.

 

Raditzu turned and looked upward towards the tyrant's box seats. The audience fell silent again as the holo-screens panned in on Freiza, whose black lips curled upward ever so slightly as he gave a tiny nod. The Saiya-jin went down on one knee in acquiescence, and then as he returned to standing, he grasped his defeated opponent by its paltry tuft of hair, displaying the shattered face as he wrenched the thing upward on its knees. He opened his palm inches from the mashed visage and let fly another controlled ki blast. The headless corpse slumped to the ground; the only thing left of the head was one of the blackened horns that was still skittering across the dirt as the Saiya-jin walked out of the arena, followed only by the approving chanting of the crowd.

 

When he'd returned, she busied herself with switching the armor back out and getting the regulation set cleaned up. He looked a lot more battered than she'd been able to see during the fight. He was covered in gore in various places, a streaming wound on the side of his face at his hairline was the only place she was absolutely sure was his own blood, though. She'd gone to clean the wound and check for others, but he just grunted and half-heartedly pushed her away. It had seemed the after effect of his win was going to be the same strangely melancholy distraught demeanor that had settled over him after his near death experience on Andolonusia. He'd tried to stop her from ministering to his wounds then, too, but then he'd been too weak to do anything about it but complain and threaten. She couldn't figure out his mood at all. He'd successfully pulled off something that he himself had declared impossible not to far off in the past, but he acted as if he was very unhappy about it. For all she knew, there was now a bank account in his name somewhere overflowing with enough credits for him to buy his own planet, and he hadn't even said a word. He'd just snatched what remained of the water from her hands and gulped it down. When she'd finished handing over all the pieces of his own armor he simply spat at the ground, which she hadn't been able to help but notice was tinged with red, and gone over to watch the rest of the fights.

 

She'd let her attention drift to watching the rest of the fights, herself, but all of them seemed anticlimactic after the day's first real upset. The crowd seemed a bit more subdued as well, until the final match when Prince Vegeta entered the arena. It was the first time she had seen the renowned fighter, and at first she'd been as surprised by his stature as she'd been at her first sight of Agavé, except this was for the opposite reason. The man seemed almost tiny as he stood in the vastness of the arena. His stats put his power at right about 18,000, and there'd been stronger fighters on the floor that day, but it didn't take long for her to realize that this one unabashedly wore all that power on his sleeve. Even without his reputation having preceded him, the simple fact of the intent with which he carried his immense power made him singularly more terrifying than anything she'd seen yet, save for Freiza himself.

 

When the opponent entered the arena, she had to chalk up another item on the mental list she'd had running all day for things that were `the most.' This one had to be the strangest looking thing she'd seen. It was even more vertically challenged than the Saiya-jin Prince, had green, warty skin like a toad's and along with two tiny eyes set where she thought they should have been, he sported another two bulging orbs on either side of his head. It proceeded to commence a round of posturing similar to the purple victor from the past fights, albeit in an obviously less practiced manner. It didn't even finish before the Prince haughtily walked right up to the thing and sent it flying with a well-aimed roundhouse punch to the gut. There hadn't even been any waiting for the announcement of the fight's beginning, and nobody seemed to care. The crowd was going absolutely wild already. The strange little opponent got up off the ground and brushed itself off while it sneered at the Prince, who just stood with arms crossed and looked down his nose at the thing.

 

When the fight really got going, it quickly became apparent that there would be no quarter for the opponent, the structure in which the fights were housed or the spectators. At one point the Prince had plastered a full third of the arena with what seemed like a never-ending torrent of ki blasts, a display that she questioned was actually aimed at the retreating creature or perpetrated simply for the sake of flinging power. When the Prince actually got into a close up exchange of blows, he was absolutely relentless, from what she could see, every strike was fostered with the intent to kill, rules be damned.

 

Strangely, during all of this, Prince Vegeta never seemed to get the upper hand in the battle. Whatever fighting technique the odd little creature used, it seemed he could get out of any situation. On various occasions he seemed to just appear in an opportune place and get in a powerful kick on the Prince with his stubby legs. Many times it would seem that he'd gotten in a blow or two that were completely unseen, The Prince would just suddenly get knocked back or double over for what looked like no reason. The strange alien had somehow gotten out of a headlock and ended up on the other side of the arena at one point, ki already streaming toward the Saiya-jin before he'd even noticed that he'd lost purchase. Stranger still, every time this happened, Lunch strongly felt the same disjointed sensation that had characterized her awakenings from control of `the other.' She'd been unable to follow a lot of what had gone on previously at the tournament simply because the combatants were too fast, but this was entirely different.

 

Finally, it seemed the Prince managed to have his opponent on the ropes. After either a lucky guess or a calculated judgment, Lunch certainly couldn't tell which, and it hardly mattered in the end, the Prince moved into position right in front of the strange combatant when it reappeared after using its signature technique. The Prince engaged it swiftly and began to beat an unremitting tattoo of jabs into the creature's torso, driving it successively backwards.

 

“Eh. Can't catch a breath now,” Raditzu commented offhandedly, apparently for his own benefit. She could have almost sworn he'd forgotten she was even there at this point. Not that she was going to test that theory by leaving the vicinity he'd ordered her to stay in or anything. At least he was still speaking to someone, even if it was only himself.

 

When it seemed that his opponent was literally choking on its own blood, the Prince finally desisted in his attack, stepped back a pace and brought his right arm to the fore, palm outward, and braced it with his left. Then he blasted the thing across the entire expanse of the arena, where it slowly rolled to a standstill. Her jaw dropped open on witnessing this particular blast because not only did it include the full fury of the Prince's power, it was utterly contained, controlled and precise. It was absolutely the first manipulation of ki energy she'd seen in the whole of her sojourn in space that was in this respect not at all unlike the Kamehameha wave she was familiar with.

 

The charred body of the little opponent twitched and heaved in its resting place, apparently grasping to consciousness still, despite its condition. The Prince whipped his head around towards where the tyrant was seated. Freiza's visage briefly appeared on the holo-screens once more, except this time the mouth twitched downward, and he blatantly shook his head in the negative. The strange little alien would get to keep his life despite defeat. Vegeta frowned irritably in return. The look that came over him was so completely devoid of any sort of respect, if Lunch hadn't known better, she would have thought he was a petulant child who'd just been denied getting his way. He then pointedly stomped over to the now unmoving creature and hauled back his white-booted foot and kicked the thing up into the stands before taking his leave of the arena.

 

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They had made their way back up to the upper level concourse of the building when Raditzu ordered her to stop. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. She had backed up a couple of steps to get out of his line of sight and take the opportunity to gawk some more at the various quirks displayed in the architecture. The concourse was the bottom level of an open courtyard of sorts, and she could observe various floors and balconies of the building from her particular vantage point. All of the various archways and portals looked somewhat like the same construction used on Missionary, except whereas the starship was based on a more squat, rounded design, the format of the building was based on a vertical plan. What was most interesting was the subtle shift in the style of ornamentation, which tended to change slightly every few floors as the construction rose, as though either styles had changed quickly during construction or the build itself had taken a very long time. It briefly occurred to her that construction was most likely ongoing considering all the damage that had resulted from the tournament.

 

Suddenly she was lifted up off of the ground by the back of the metal slave collar. A choked sound escaped her as the collar began cutting off her air supply. She reflexively struggled as a robust mustached face came into her field of vision.

 

“Hey, Raditz,” the man asked in a deep baritone as he scrutinized her, “this your new plaything?” The man, who was tall enough to be holding her a foot or more off the ground to have her at eye level, stroked his stout chin with his free hand thoughtfully. His dark eyes gleamed forebodingly as he looked her over intently. She wondered in a panic if it would be the last thing she'd see as she began to loose consciousness for lack of air. “It's kinda pretty. Maybe you should lend it to me, just for the evening.”

 

“I don't know if that's such a good idea.” She heard her master's reply just over the sound of her own blood rushing, which had become quite loud at the same time her vision began a strange white-out as she desperately fought to remain cognizant. “It's terribly fragile. Would I even get it back in one piece? As it is you're asphyxiating it. Maybe you should just put it down.”

 

“Oh,” came the dispassionate retort as she hit the floor hard on her backside for the second time that day. She gulped air and rubbed at her neck where the metal had dug in. “You know, there was a time when I could just pull rank and take it…”

 

“I know that. Unfortunately that time has passed. I'm also aware that your power level dwarfs mine as such. If it's important enough to you to fight over, I might enjoy such a contest - at the appropriate time and place, of course. I would be a fool not to take the opportunity to test my skills against an elite, seeing as how in the past such a thing would be completely unheard of.”

 

Her vision had returned just enough for her to pick herself up off the floor and stagger somewhat behind Raditzu in the hopes that the adage `out of sight, out of mind' would hold true in this particular case. As she did, a third voice chimed in from behind her.

 

“Oh, for pity's sake, Nappa, why get all worked up over vermin when there are upscale brothels on this planet that would open their doors even to you?” She didn't have to turn around and look to know it was the Saiya-jin Prince. If not for the absolutely egotistical tone of his voice, for the fact that the very air around him vibrated with power as though he was some kind of peculiar tuning fork. He walked past her conceitedly and visibly ignored the semblance of a salute both men were performing. “Leave such distractions to the rabble. It must be terribly entertaining for a low class thug to actually be in possession of such a thing. I, for one, tired of such trifles long ago.”

 

Lunch decided to hazard a glance at her master in the off chance that she might be able to dodge whatever sort of explosion that would probably result from the Prince's depreciating commentary. She was surprised to find that Raditzu hardly even looked angry. He stood before his prince, eyes downcast, apparently resigned to take whatever criticism the deposed monarch had to dole out. It seemed that whatever bravado he'd had in playing up his rank in the trade to Nappa had completely evaporated when it came to dealing with the Prince, and the old rank and file of things still counted for something. Then she happened to notice the old familiar twitch at the tip of her master's tail as the Prince continued speaking. She instinctively backed away a couple of paces as Vegeta directed his attention toward the seemingly browbeaten soldier.

 

“I must say, I never expected to have to actually work to upstage the likes of you, Raditz, but I suppose stranger things have happened. Your little performance has contributed to my decision to allow you to join Nappa and myself on a little private expedition to a world that has proven particularly troublesome to Lord Frieza.” Vegeta had stressed the word performance in a way that suggested he didn't take the outcome of the tournament all that seriously. “I honestly didn't think you'd live through such an outing, but after this evening, it seems anything's possible.” At this point the Prince had taken up a semblance of a militaristic march consisting of five paces in one direction before turning on his heel and continuing back in the other direction. He seemed principally cheerful in the role of `general directing the troops.'

 

“In any case,” he went on, “even three Saiya-jin may not be enough, considering the regrettable lack of elite soldiers available,” he pointedly stopped his pacing and directed his attention towards Raditzu again, “you may find it worth your while to pick up your wayward brother as the Sol system is on the way to our destination. I'd hate to bother, but if it's necessary we could even meet you there, within say a standard year… provided the two of you have the place cleared by then. Surely even you could handle that?”

 

The apparently rhetorical question went unanswered, as Prince Vegeta obviously wasn't yet finished speaking. Nappa had taken up a position beside the Prince at this point, arms crossed over his chest as he stood at rapt attention, as though some of Vegeta's power and influence had simply rubbed off on him by default. He sported a particularly smug half-grin, which summarily collapsed when the Prince mentioned that he expected all three of his underlings on the mission to be satisfied with a mere 10 percent of the take, provided they lived.

 

Thankfully, all of them appeared to have forgotten about her presence, allowing her to observe the scene unobtrusively from the greatest distance she dared put between herself and her master. The spectators from the tournament had mostly cleared the building at this point, permitting her to notice a solitary figure leaning casually on the far wall behind the Saiya-jin. It was unmistakably the better looking half of Frieza's retinue that she had seen on the holo-screens. He seemed to be observing the entire tableau with indifferent amusement. For his part, she had not gone unnoticed. She definitely felt that she really should have been somewhere else, anywhere else, when she realized that somehow she had managed to meet the amber gaze and the man reacted with a jocular wink and raised his finger to his lips indicating that he wanted to remain unobserved for the time being. The gesture, which perhaps should have been taken in stride seemed wholly out of place in the situation and only served to send cold chills through her. When it seemed Vegeta had concluded his briefing on the mission, the aqua-green skinned man cleared his throat loudly, and then stepped up to the group.

 

“Gentlemen, if I may use that term loosely,” he announced in a strangely lilting tone as he swept in among them, “I have been sent to inform Vegeta that Lord Frieza requests an audience with him post haste.”

 

While Nappa and Raditzu had both performed a respectful salute as they noticed one of Frieza's right hand men, Vegeta simply stood and glared. Not having any idea what to do in such a situation, she found herself standing somewhat detached from the rest of them, gawking again out of uncertainty and a heady fear that had become less controllable by the minute.

 

“Zarbon, why don't you go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under?” Vegeta spat discourteously at the first opportunity for a retort. “I'm well aware that Frieza-Sama wishes to speak with me about the Arlian mission, as he is well aware that I will meet with him at my convenience. I really don't see what business of yours…”

 

“Pish, posh! Vegeta,” Zarbon replied callously. Lunch realized with horror that he was perceptibly directing all his attention towards her, as if making a show over the fact that a mere slave was more worthy of his regard than all three of the warriors. “Did you even consider,” he wandered right up behind her and began idly running his long fingers through her hair as he spoke, “that the urgency of the matter might have something to do with the price of Arlian commodities, which incidentally has tripled just since the start of the tournament? Perhaps someone has let their pride get the better of their judgment in this case?” He had moved on to examine each part of her in turn, starting with her face, which he got a better look at by grasping her chin lightly and pushing it upward, forcing her to meet his gaze again, though only momentarily because she looked downward as quickly as possible out of habit. He frowned slightly at the abrasions on her neck at the edges of the collar, and deeply at the now hideous bruise on her upper arm. It was the first time since she had found herself thrown into slavery that she'd really felt like an article of trade on the block. Although his touch was extremely gentle, belying the incredible power at his disposal which she could clearly feel as he was standing so close, it was also unnaturally cold and unyielding, as though he was made of marble.

 

This was positively the creepiest experience she'd had yet. Worse, Vegeta's attention was now fully upon her and there was no pretense there of anything but unbridled malice. She was sure that if Zarbon himself hadn't been in such close proximity her life would have ended right there. Worse still, although it was by no means plainly obvious, by what had to have taken a phenomenal effort, she knew Raditzu was angrier than a hornet stuck in a small jar. If she had thought he'd been on the edge of an explosion before, surely at this point he was approaching what could be described as a super nova. Maybe nobody else noticed it because he was still steadfastly keeping his power at an appropriate level. Maybe it was because she hadn't had very much contact with anyone else for the past couple of years, but as far as she could tell, the man was clearly pissed off and she had no doubt of who he was going to take it out on providing she even walked away from the situation at hand.

 

“What's the difference if I happened to mention the Arlia mission to a couple of choice personages, anyway?” asked Vegeta. Zarbon had apparently tired of whatever interest he'd had in her and moved away, but Vegeta still regarded her with a burning glower that was more akin to disgust than anything else as he argued his case. “Frieza can afford it. It's not as though he's really interested in becoming the sole purveyor of fine malt beverages, unless you've heard something I haven't?”

 

Zarbon finally directed his full attention to the Saiya-jin prince. “If one can call gloating to Captain Ginyu a mere mention… As usual, the obvious flies cleanly and surely over your head, Vegeta. I should think that after all this time you would have picked up some semblance of understanding the finer points of the trade, but I suppose one can only hope.”

 

Although she was shrinking behind Raditzu again, trying to become invisible if it was at all possible, Lunch still found her attention riveted to the strange scene unfolding. Zarbon and Vegeta looked like they were close to exchanging blows, but she noted that as it seemed neither was paying any particular attention to them, Nappa and Raditzu took the opportunity to exchange an exasperated look. Whatever was at the heart of the matter, the other Saiyans apparently knew this sort of thing had happened before and it wasn't likely to escalate past being verbal, and thus boring in their eyes.

 

“Anyway,” Zarbon waved his hand in Vegeta's direction as if swatting at a particularly annoying fly, “you'll just have to take it up with Freiza-Sama. I'm only the messenger.”

 

“Humph,” Vegeta grunted as he took up the self-important stance that she had already become familiar with, “as if there were doubt in anyone's mind the you were ever more than Frieza's messenger. You can leave now,” he spat at the floor, “ and convey the message to Lord Frieza that since it seems to be so utterly dire, I will see him as soon as I'm finished here.”

 

“And,” Zarbon continued as though Vegeta hadn't even said anything, “I really wanted to get a closer look at my new cash cow, or monkey as it were.” He walked up beside Raditzu and clapped him on the back. It could have been construed as in good nature except that he did it hard enough for the Saiya-jin to stumble forward somewhat. This time Nappa and Vegeta exchanged a glance that she could only interpret as somewhat satisfied, despite the fact that for all practical purposes Zarbon had just called all three of them monkeys.

 

Zarbon, seemingly above it all, hardly even paused to notice. “I was just telling Dodoria earlier today that it really doesn't matter how many credits one has, because if you look at the big picture it's really Frieza that owns everything, and he begged to differ, commenting on my penchant to use said credits to purchase various and sundry baubles. So, I set out to prove my point by betting against the odds on one of the fights. Funny thing is, I made an exceptional return on that bet. Better still, I see that your slave is somewhat the worse for wear. A real shame as I do so admire beautiful things.” He shot Lunch a pitying sidelong glance.

 

“We've had a running wager that you'd eventually exterminate the poor thing. One can't really expect more from savages, but Dodoria seems to think it'll make it at least until you purge its planet. I on the other hand, don't think it'll last through the standard year. I guess in the end Dodoria was right earlier because now that I have a good start on actually purchasing something in the area of real estate, even if it is only a collection of credits as yet.

 

“So, you see, Vegeta,” it seemed as though Zarbon was determined to get the last word on the prince, “you don't have to be in such a huff all the time. It turns out you little monkeys can be good for something, after all. Though I really would keep an eye on that one. After today it looks as though he really is the proverbial chip off the old block. Much as I am a fan of tragedy at times, I'd hate to see history repeat itself, no?” With that, he turned to leave. “You have been noticed,” he added casually as he passed Raditzu.

 

Vegeta glared at his back as he left, and grumbled something that Lunch couldn't hear, and really didn't want to. Then he turned his furious gaze back upon his compatriots. “If I hear that imbecile makes one more credit because of either one of you…” then he turned his attention back towards Lunch. She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Suddenly the phrase `if looks could kill' drifted through her mind. “Low class fools owning property, what a sham!” He exclaimed. “If you had any idea what you were doing that thing would have been on its knees for the duration. You wouldn't have to worry about killing it because it would know exactly what to do without you having to even touch it.” She found herself rooted to the spot as he took one ominous step towards her after another. The next thing she knew her legs were buckling out from under her as she felt a sharp pain in her lower back. The prince obviously knew exactly what he was doing because she couldn't even feel her legs anymore, and she'd doubled over far enough for her nose to be practically touching the tile floor. She wondered fleetingly if her master was anxious about potential dust particles on the floor, even if she did realize her other half would have caused a complete disaster of one sort or another in this situation.

 

“See, if you knew anything, you'd have thought of utilizing pressure points to break the thing in instead of whatever unrefined method you've resorted to. I should have hit it a little harder, but who knows how long it would last with permanent paralysis. If Zarbon cashes in on any more of this claptrap, trust me, I can think of all kinds of ways of incapacitating either one of you.”

 

She couldn't tell if he'd been referring to both of the Saiya-jin, of if she was being lumped in with Raditzu in that statement because she couldn't see what was going on anymore, but gratefully, a pins-and-needles sensation was starting to manifest in her lower back, replacing the numbness. Vegeta must have left, because the next thing she heard was Nappa.

 

“Want my advice, boy? Don't be stupid. Believe me when I say that being noticed by that bunch isn't really what you want. Now, are you sure you don't wanna let me borrow your slave for a bit?”

 

“No.” The reply had an edge of defeat to it. “Well, I heard you had cultivars, I might think about a temporary trade, but you heard Vegeta. You'd definitely injure it if you…”

 

“Ha! I won't do anything of the sort. You can even watch if it makes you feel more at ease.”

 

“What!?”

 

“It's not what you think. Trust me.”