Bringer of Death

Tournament Saga - Part 10: Insurgence

Tournament Saga - Part 10: Insurgence

"Outta my way, losers," Raditz Jr ordered, crossing his arms smugly. "I won and both of you lost—disgracefully, I might add. That means there's gonna be a few changes around here."

While the Namekian clone was in a corner massaging his neck, Frieza Jr appeared to have nearly recovered. His arms were crossed angrily, one eyebrow raised, but he grit his teeth quietly for the moment.

"Yeah, that's right. You two punks are gonna start treating me with respect for a change!" Raditz chuckled, leaning against the wall behind him. "Cause if you don't, I'll just keep having to remind you who won and who lost."

"Tch! You actually think you won that match!?" Frieza snapped back. "He forfeited; that's not a win!"

"Same difference," the Saiyan clone said lazily, shutting his eyes. Finally, he felt more confident, like he didn't have to try so hard to defend himself. "Besides, I was just about to finish him off. If you ask me, the little bastard got lucky to quit when he did."

"Oh yeah? Well even so, that little bald guy wasn't near as strong as the blonde guy I had to face!" Frieza complained. "You can't compare the two, it wasn't fair!"

"Hmm?" Raditz slowly grunted, turning his head. "Sure, you can compare them," he said as casually as possible, hoping for maximum annoyance to his brother. "Same ring, same day, and Dad picked both our opponents. Sounds pretty fair to me. But, for the sake of argument: even if I had faced your guy, I guarantee I wouldn't have lost like you did."

By now Frieza Jr was boiling, an attitude he was quite frustrated at himself for even having. He almost couldn't believe Raditz Jr had gotten to him like this. As quickly as he could compose himself, he began wracking his brain for a comeback. His original counterpart, the great tyrant who went unquestioned as Lord of the Universe for so many years, would've never been caught in such a bind.

"Suit yourself, Raditz," he finally replied, calm and cool. "But it seems you paid quite a price for your 'victory', didn't you? I used to think that rug of animal fur you call your hair looked ridiculous, but you look even more hilarious like this. You're pretty much begging me to laugh now."

"You take that back!" the Saiyan clone yelled immediately, lifting his fist in front of his face.

"Both of you can shove it," Piccolo III said, interrupting mid-argument. "So long as our smug prick of a big brother loses, I could care less what happens to you two."

Both of the other brothers paused, mulling it over. It was certainly true that they all hated Cell Jr the most—it was the one thing they had in common. And especially after the unprovoked beating he'd given Piccolo III, they each completely understood their brother's position.

"Right," Frieza Jr finally said. "I hope that pompous little snot gets ripped in two."

"Yeah!" Raditz added excitedly. "Let's root for the other guy!"

"Pah," Piccolo III sighed, shaking his head. "Not so loud, idiot. Remember, Dad can probably hear us. Just keep it down, all right?"

Raditz and Frieza nodded together, poking their heads out the window to see the next fight.

The dull roar of Cell Jr's pale golden aura caused the ring to vibrate gently as the little clone powered up. His face was a mixture of sadistic anticipation and genuine excitement. He couldn't wait to rip his opponent to pieces.

Across the ring, the son of Vegeta wore the tiniest hint of a smile. Though his aura had initially been even brighter than that of his enemy, it had quickly vanished as he stabilised his energy. Powering up was still strenuous, but at least he could maintain perfect control at any level. He had Gohan to thank for that.