~ A Short While Before: Random Frieza Base ~
Taking over a Frieza Force base had turned out to be disgustingly easy, since none of the soldiers had sported a power level over two thousand. In fact, most didn't even surpass one thousand. Meanwhile, every Z fighter had a minimum power level of ten thousand, making the whole operation feel like a farce.
The soldiers scattered in panic as the Z fighters tore through the base, too shocked by the sheer power disparity to put up any real resistance.
To be honest, the Z Fighters had felt like they had come across more like bullies than invaders.
Since then, Piccolo had headed off to Guru, and the team had managed to imprison Ginyu—in a frog's body—in a makeshift cage. With some quick thinking, they leveraged Ginyu's body's lingering authority to convince a handful of terrified soldiers to operate the med-tank for them.
The med-tanks hummed as they ran diagnostics, screens flickering as they processed necessary data. It quickly became clear that Goku had taken the severest damage, making his recovery decently longer than Nappa and Vegeta's. Ginyu's mildly scorched back, in comparison, would be healed in no time at all.
With a soft hiss, the last med tank sealed shut. Thick green liquid slowly filled the chambers, bubbles rising lazily as the fluid gurgled and engulfed the injured forms of Goku, Vegeta, Nappa, and Ginyu.
The soldiers' compliance didn't last much longer after that.
But the team didn't need their assistance to secure the rest of what they needed—new armor and supplies were gathered easily enough, so those soldiers were knocked out without much fanfare.
That had been some time ago.
Currently, Krillin, Gohan, and Goku—in Ginyu's mostly recovered body—watched the healing process with keen interest. Each of them was now clad in freshly issued Frieza Force armor, and though its weight felt unfamiliar on their shoulders, it at least offered far better protection than their usual Gi.
While the others watched intently, Ajax's mind was elsewhere. He wasn't concerned with the machines or the healing process at all. Seated on a bench just outside the medbay in his new red-and-black Frieza Force armor, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers tightly interlaced in front of his mouth. His expression was dark, set in a deep frown.
"What the fuck…" he said grimly under his breath.
Slug's fanatical rant, which had been transmitted directly into his mind by Guru, was proving incredibly difficult for him to digest. He sifted through his mental catalog of villains, but none quite seemed to fit what Slug had described.
The closest comparison he could think of was possibly the Black Water Mist, but even that theory had too many holes.
For one, while some of Slug's symptoms aligned, not all of them did. And even if the Mist was involved, that only led to more questions. Why would someone like Slug, a Namekian, be affected by it? Namekians were supposed to be immune to its effects, as Piccolo was in canon.
Also, how had it resurfaced? As far as Ajax knew, that shit had been sealed away securely on Earth ages ago by Mr. Popo, under Kami's orders. It was currently submerged in sacred water within an airtight chamber on the Lookout, in a manner similar to the containment protocol for SCP-682.
He knew about it because it was one of the few forbidden areas on the Lookout, and Kami had vaguely informed him of it to quell his curiosity.
The point was, no one should have had access to it.
But if it wasn't the Black Water Mist, then the situation was even worse. Because that meant there was a person out there—someone so powerful they could be mistaken for a God—whose actions, intentionally or not, were having significant ramifications on the timeline.
And Ajax had no idea who it could be.
Shit…
The only silver lining in all of this was that Guru didn't have much to fear from Slug—not yet, at least. Slug needed the Dragon Balls to regain his youth, and if anything were to happen to Guru, the Dragon Balls would turn to stone, rendering them useless.
Since Slug belonged to the warrior clan, he couldn't create his own Dragon Balls, meaning his entire plan hinged on keeping Guru alive, even though he probably wanted nothing more than to kill him.
Ajax narrowed his eyes in thought. Bulma was still about an hour out with the Dragon Balls, but with the situation deteriorating at Guru's place and Slug's…weirdness, they simply didn't have that kind of time.
Ajax abruptly stood up, the sudden movement drawing everyone's attention. He looked over at them and said, "Bulma's not fast enough. The situation at Guru's has changed, so we're going to her instead. I know this is sudden, and you're all confused, but we don't have the luxury of time. I'll explain everything as we go. We'll leave the others here."
Without offering further explanation, Ajax closed his eyes and concentrated, tapping into his energy. A multi-form clone materialized beside him, splitting from his body. The clone gave a brief nod of understanding and stayed behind, taking up the task of guarding the three recovering Saiyans.
With that taken care of, Ajax turned and signaled for the others to follow.
"Man, I really gotta learn that technique…" Krillin muttered under his breath as they all took to the skies.
~ Moments Later: Guru's residence ~
A dense, suffocating pressure fell over Guru's residence, thick and oppressive. The air felt heavy, making it difficult to breathe, as if the very atmosphere was saturated with raw power. There was nothing subtle or controlled about it either—it was wild, chaotic, and volatile, as if it would annihilate everything around it from even the slightest mistake.
Once again, a massive shadow darkened the entrance to Guru's chamber, but this time, three polite knocks echoed through the room.
Frieza, in his towering second form, bent down, forcing his enormous frame to fit through the small doorway. His horns scraped lightly against the threshold as he entered, his size making the walls of Guru's home feel impossibly small. He took just two steps inside before stopping cold as he caught sight of Guru.
For a brief moment, surprise flickered across Frieza's normally composed face. Even in his more monstrous form, he still had to crane his neck up—far up—to meet the eyes of the Grand Elder.
The tyrant's icy mask cracked for just a second before his expression returned to its usual mask of polite indifference. His cold, calculating eyes flicked to the side, where half of Nail lay sprawled in the corner, his body dissolving into tiny motes of light drifting lazily through the air.
Frieza didn't so much as blink at the strange sight, dismissing it as though Nail's very existence was beneath his notice.
His focus shifted back to Guru.
"So, you must be this 'Grand Elder,'" Frieza said, tilting his head with a derisive smile. "I see now why they call you 'grand.' I must admit, I certainly didn't anticipate you being so... rotund. Ever heard of cardio?"
Guru had a witty quip involving Cardi B at the ready but decided against it since it would be a pointless effort. Instead, he gave a slow, measured hum before responding, "Coming from someone who exclusively relies on a floating chair to get around?"
"Hmm, an interesting point. I suppose when you're vastly superior to the rest, the necessity of something as trivial as cardio becomes irrelevant. Unlike for you."
Frieza paused for effect, his smile curling even further. "But tell me, how did you know about my floating throne? You're so morbidly obese, I doubt you've ever moved from that chair of yours."
The tyrant glanced back at the small doorway behind him with a strange expression.
"For that matter, how did you even fit through the door? Did they build the house around you?"
The room's atmosphere grew heavy for a moment before Guru's deep, rumbling laughter broke the tension, his massive body shaking with hearty chuckles.
"I wasn't always like this. Childbirth has a way of changing you."
Frieza's expression soured, his face twisting in visible disgust. "Can't relate," he replied icily, casting another condescending glance up and down Guru's enormous frame. It was clear he found Guru's very existence repulsive.
Guru simply raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "I seem to be repeating this quite often lately, but don't underestimate me. There is FAR more depth to me than anyone realizes."
"Yes, yes, anyone can see your 'depth' from miles away. Good grief, you could probably fit two Dodorias in you—length, width, AND height, you fat shite. You look like you could crush a mountain just by accidentally sitting on it."
"Ah, I leave the mountain-crushing to the younger ones. They've got the energy for it."
Frieza's lip curled in a mocking sneer. "And I suppose you've been busy getting into shape in the meantime."
Guru's eyes crinkled in amusement as he listened to Frieza's taunts.
"Oh, that's rather hurtful. I expected that Cold would have raised his son with better manners than this."
At the mention of King Cold, Frieza's eyes narrowed dangerously, a brief flicker of irritation appearing as he recalled the unpleasant conversation he'd had with his father just days before. His posture stiffened, and the air around him seemed to grow colder.
"Charming," he hissed, his voice cold and venomous. "But enough with the pleasantries. You will tell me the location of the Dragon Balls and the password, or I will ensure that by the day's end, the Namekians will be nothing but a forgotten memory!"
"Oh? But you still won't get what you're after, Frieza."
That was definitely not what Frieza wanted to hear.
"I'm afraid that's not the correct answer," he said smoothly but impatiently. "You clearly don't understand just how insignificant you and your entire race are in the grand scheme of things."
Guru shifted slightly in his chair and began to tap his fingers rhythmically on the armrest. His eyes briefly flickered to Nail, evaluating the state of the warrior's deteriorating soul.
"Don't underestimate the Namekian race. We have warriors who even you might be hesitant to face."
Frieza's eyebrows arched in mock surprise, and a sharp "Ho!" escaped him. His mocking laughter quickly followed as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand, as if the very idea were too absurd to even entertain. He looked thoroughly amused, his tail swishing lazily behind him.
"Warriors I might hesitate to face?" Frieza echoed. "And who exactly might you be referring to? Perhaps this strapping young lad here?" He activated his scouter with a smug smile and pointed it at Nail.
The scouter beeped as it registered Nail's fading energy.
"Hmm, 32,000... and dropping rapidly," Frieza sneered. "He might be considered strong by your race's pathetic standards, but compared to me? He's little more than cannon fodder. You Namekians don't have the faintest idea of how powerful I truly am."
"On the contrary," Guru chuckled, "I know precisely how strong you and your father are."
Frieza's eyebrow twitched slightly, but Guru pressed on, unphased. "However, you're misunderstanding me," he said, his fingers now resting motionless on the armrest. "I was not referring to young Nail here. He is strong, yes, but he's still far from being the strongest among us. That title belongs to my other half, for now."
Frieza blinked slowly.
"Other half? Hohoho! I'm astonished you even have a mate given your—" he glanced over Guru's large frame with a barely concealed sneer, "—stature. But really, it doesn't matter who they are, whether they're married or single, half or whole. They all end up screaming and begging in the end."
"I think it would be you who screams out in pain if you had to face him."
Frieza shrugged dismissively. "I highly doubt that, but if it helps you sleep at night, then so be it. I'm not interested in your delusions. I only care about the Dragon Balls and my immortality."
Without missing a beat, Frieza extended his arm, his fingers pointing directly at Guru. An orb of purple energy flickered to life at the tip of his finger, ready to be fired, but Guru's expression remained unchanged, even as the deadly energy hovered ominously.
"It's been a delightful conversation, Namekian, but I strongly recommend some haste. My patience has been tested many, many times over the past few days. Now, I've heard from a little birdie that retrieving the highly secretive eighth and final Dragon Ball requires the death of the standing Grand Elder. However, I'm feeling rather magnanimous and might just extend your life a little longer if you tell me the locations of the other Dragon Balls. Quite generous of me, wouldn't you say?"
The silence that followed saw Guru's smile persist, while Frieza's smile faded.
"Very well then. Death it is."
The completed Death Beam bathed the room in a sinister purple glow. Moments later, Frieza released the energy, sending the Death Beam straight at Guru.
Suddenly, a green blur burst through the wall with explosive force, deflected the Death Beam, and slammed into Frieza. Spittle sprayed from the tyrant's mouth as he was violently thrown backward, crashing through the wall opposite Guru and into the distance, disappearing from view.
The walls shook from the force of the collision, and the room fell into dead silence.
But the silence didn't last long.
"You conniving son of a bitch!" Slug roared. "You lied to Frieza! What bullshit eighth ball?! You look like a freaking ball! You intentionally fed him that crap and conveniently omitted that your life is linked to the Dragon Balls just to force my hand!"
Guru raised an eyebrow, his expression one of harmless innocence.
"Who, me? Oh, it must be your imagination. Now, are you sure you don't want to finish him off while he's still in his second form?"
Slug's eyes blazed with rage.
Guru chuckled, clearly entertained by Slug's growing anger. "So, finally realizing there's no way out, is there, my other half? You can either fight Frieza or watch him kill me."
But Slug's eyes turned venomously cold as he reached out to Guru with his right hand.
"You've left me no other option! You think you're clever, Guru? Well, I think I'll live long enough to track down Zuno! I'll absorb you right here and now, then leave this planet behind—so laugh while you still can!"
"Absorb me? Excellent, best of luck. Perhaps you'll fare better than when you tried to absorb Nail earlier."
Slug froze mid-step, realization hitting him hard. His jaw dropped, then clenched as veins bulged across his forehead.
"This isn't over, you fat fu–!"
But Slug's words were cut off as his throat tightened mid-sentence when he turned away from Guru. His gaze fell upon the horizon, and the sight that greeted him took his breath away. Far in the distance, the entire mountain range—majestic peaks that had stood for eons—was instantly reduced to dust by a colossal column of purple energy that stretched endlessly into the sky.
The sheer magnitude of destruction made it clear—Frieza had decided to skip the pretense and had directly unleashed the full, terrifying might of his final form.
In the distance, a massive Supernova suddenly burst into existence and shot forward at blistering speed.
Slug's jaw dropped, momentarily struck speechless.
Guru, observing the chaos unfold, let out a weary but satisfied chuckle. "Well, it's too late now. Go be the hero for once, my wicked half."
"OH, SCREW YOU!!"
Slug immediately unleashed a massive energy beam from his mouth that streaked through the air, ultimately colliding with the Supernova. While it wasn't strong enough to overpower Frieza's attack, it did succeed in knocking the miniature sun off course, sending it soaring into space.
In the blink of an eye, Slug vanished and reappeared in the distance, slamming directly into Frieza as he fought the tyrant head-on. The moment their titanic powers collided, the rippling shockwaves from their clash shattered the terrain around them.
The very continent upon which they fought trembled under their combined might.
~ Devastated Battlefield, Some Distance Away ~
A gentle breeze whispered through the wrecked landscape, lifting debris and sending tiny clouds of dust drifting lazily across the land. The aftermath of a fierce battle had rendered the area eerily still, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
However, the silence that should have remained unbroken had instead been short-lived.
A solitary heartbeat punctured the quiet, so faint it was almost imperceptible. Moments later, another heartbeat followed, slightly more pronounced. Gradually, the beats became steadier, like a distant, rhythmic drum.
A figure began to stir.
Before long, a red-skinned warrior clad in shattered armor sat up with painful effort. A wave of agony washed over him as he tried to steady himself, but the exertion ultimately proved to be too much. He collapsed onto his back, clutching the left side of his chest, where the pain was most intense.
Jeice lay sprawled on the ground, gritting his teeth to suppress the sharp agony radiating from his chest with every heartbeat. Blood trickled from his mouth, which he turned to spit out with a grimace.
He had escaped death by the slimmest of margins, and it was all thanks to a fortunate miscalculation on Ajax's part. Ajax had assumed, incorrectly, that Jeice's heart was on the left side of his chest—like most beings do. But for Jeice and his species, it wasn't.
Seizing on what he hoped was Ajax's ignorance, Jeice enacted his final, desperate gambit as the shockwave hit: he played dead.
After being struck by the shockwave attack, Jeice pulled off a daring move. Using the skill he only possessed thanks to his energy control mutation, he managed to reduce his energy signature to absolute zero. In other words, by completely dissipating his vitality, he imitated the dispersal of energy that would normally occur after death.
For anyone with energy sense, this phenomenon was the unspoken, gold standard. A warrior could bluff, but their energy could not lie. And in the end, it took only a single scan to reveal someone's condition, status, and death.
Jeice prayed that Ajax had never encountered anyone capable of dropping their energy to zero—a feat deemed impossible by all conventional standards—all so that his opponent would continue to interpret the phenomenon as a sign of death just one more time.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Luckily for Jeice, Ajax chose not to confirm his kill with a follow-up attack or mutilation; otherwise, he truly would have been sunk.
But even with Ajax's restraint, Jeice's survival was far from guaranteed. Just as a person can only hold their breath for so long before they need oxygen, Jeice's body couldn't sustain itself forever without energy. On top of that, his condition was still in a critical state from Ajax's attack.
The moments that followed had been a nerve-wracking balancing act.
Jeice's plan had bought him some time, but his continued survival hinged on the hope that Ajax wouldn't return to check on him before his condition became irreversible.
Thus, Jeice avoided absorbing any of the surrounding energy. The risk was too high; if Ajax had been within range, any attempt to restore his energy might have alerted his opponent to his survival. Instead, he had maintained his energy suppression until he teetered on the very brink of death.
It seemed, however, that his gamble had paid off.
Jeice struggled to his feet, grunting with effort. Despite the pain, he knew what he needed to do: gather information, assess the situation, and regroup with his team.
But one thing was clear: he would not face Ajax again. Their last encounter had highlighted the vast disparity in their strengths, and Jeice knew that challenging Ajax without significant improvement was no different than committing suicide.
After all, he wouldn't be so fortunate a second time.
Though the defeat stung, Jeice's pride remained unbroken. He would not forget this. One day, he would return and challenge Ajax again, and on that day, he would win!
With a final, pained grimace, Jeice unfurled his energy sense and took to the sky. He needed to find his team.