“Spats!” Puttee kept calling out. “Wake up!” She started shaking her sister. “Please, open your eyes! You survived!” Torta stared, still reeling, not fully able to process any emotion yet. This one thing he thought could be a victory looked like another defeat.
Gaita put her hand on Spats’s head and focused. “The electrical activity in her brain…” she said with a sad and pained expression, “it’s not sleep or a coma. The only active areas in her brain are in charge of breathing and heartbeat; she burned out the rest of her nervous system. She’s…she’s braindead.” Puttee broke down crying, and Gaita hugged her, sobbing along with her.
Torta picked Spats up. “I’ll try putting her in the medical machine,” he said. “Maybe it can heal her nerves, and…and maybe we have a shot.” He carried her off to the Saiyan rescue vessel, protected just a little ways off from the Rainbow Stocking.
Regal was prodded awake by Scallop, and she watched Torta pass her with Spats. She looked up and saw the state of the battlefield. Scallop teared up, and then she rubbed her eyes and scoffed. “You aren’t allowed to kill yourself fighting anyone but Malacol.”
Regal’s head hit the ground. Daikon was said to be the only person currently alive who could rival Malacol in power; it was why their empires were so long at war. She sighed. “If I fought Malacol now, it wouldn’t even be a fight,” Regal said.
Dragon continued to let his tears fall. It was not so much sadness at his utter defeat, though he was deeply humiliated by how easily Daikon toyed with him. The fight broke his resolve, for the first time. All that effort, all that training and gumption, and he wasn’t even strong enough for Daikon to bother killing. It was enough to make him want to quit and find a quiet life on a distant world.
Torta placed Spats in the medical machine, hoping that it could bring about some miracle. As far as he knew, it could treat any injury or sickness. For as much as he wanted Spats to live for Puttee and Gaita, and to claim a silver lining on that day, he also had business with her. She always stood strong. Thinking back to the day of his final battle with her, he recognized her chaotic, conflicting emotions, the same sort Puttee dealt with, and yet the one thing Spats always had was conviction. His friends were all dealt major blows, but the Dragon Balls were still in play; either Daikon or Malacol would get immortality very soon if they didn’t do something. Looking at their relationships, he realized he was in the center of their group. They all had to be good soldiers and keep moving, and he felt he had to be the one to stand strong. He stared at the monitor, hoping Spats would revive. For all her toxic anger, she also had an unbreakable spine and a natural knack for leadership. Torta needed to see her one more time, to feel what that was like, so he could be the person he thought his friends needed him to be. The person he needed himself to be.
The machine beeped, and Torta expectantly read the report, hoping it would treat her in a short time. Instead, the machine told him that the bioengineered upgrades Spats had given to herself were entirely incompatible with its function, and so it was unable to heal her. The medical machine shut down and began draining automatically. Torta stared at the machine blankly. Puttee shuffled in behind him. “Is it working?” she asked.
Without turning around, he shook his head.
Puttee sniffed. “Thanks for trying. I mean, even if it worked, I doubt she would have kept her memories. She’s…she’s…”
Torta turned and hugged Puttee. “I’m sorry. I…I couldn’t protect her, or any of you.”
The two cried together, in a way they hadn’t done since Torta’s parents died. After their tears ran dry, Puttee pulled Spats out of the medical machine, and the two carried her back outside. Scallop, Regal, and Gaita had gathered around Dragon. Scallop was tying a bandage around her stomach, and Gaita was using her new Machine Mutant abilities to reabsorb parts to repair the hole in her gut.
Puttee and Torta laid Spats down on the ground in front of the group. “We…we should say a few words, in memorial,” Torta said. “She saved us, and bought the universe more time. I, uh…I admired her strength of spirit, above all else.”
Regal stepped forward. “Remembering the image of Spats, lonely in her duty, will be instructive for the rest of my life. I’m starting to get the idea we have a lot more in common than I knew.”
Dragon bowed his head. “I recognized her frenzied need to keep moving. I hope she found peace in her last wish.”
Gaita opened her mouth and teared up. “I never got a chance to know my own sister. I briefly met her just one week ago, in happier times, and she seemed…better. And now…none of us have a chance to see what could come of that.”
Puttee wiped her eyes. “Spats deserved better than what she got in life. Mom was the bright spot in the family, and we lost her so early. Dad placed all his failures on Spats and then rubbed salt in the wound by treating me like a goddess. And then I ran away in a dumb panic, because I was never strong like her. No…rigid, because she had to be. I ran away…I was going to ask her for help, but I was holding the plans for the Androids, and I was scared…that she would fall in line with dad. So I ran, because I’m a bad sister, and I never got to make it up to her…” She paused. “So, I’ll have to do better now, huh? If I have to make another wish on the Rainbow Dragon Balls after we revive all the dead on Earth to heal her wounds, then that’s what I’m going to do. There’s no other option beyond saving her. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just…I can’t stand the idea she died getting her wish, without getting to experience it.”
Torta felt his dry eye burn without tears to well in it. “I’ll always be there to help you, no matter what it takes.”
Regal nodded. “I will accompany you, as well.”
“Thanks for supporting my sisters,” Gaita said.
Torta sighed. “Daikon just kicked all our butts. He was strong enough to be a galactic tyrant for years, and spent a few months building the strength we just saw. And survived. A few months ago, those of us from Earth weren’t strong enough to be a footsoldier in his army. We just gave him a real battle. There’s still a big hill in front of us, but if we keep moving, I know we can finish what we came here for, and avenge Spats while we’re at it.”
Regal stood up. “We should get going now, then. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but we need to move fast if we’re going to get any balls of our own.”
“Agreed,” said Puttee. “We can’t be sitting still. Gaita, pick up Spats. We’ll be taking her with us, and I’ll find a way to heal her. Can I get the ship with the medical machine?”
“Sure, yeah,” said Torta. “You’ll need it more than me and Dragon.”
“Do you want to use it first?” Gaita asked. “Your eye…”
“I’ll keep my eye this way,” Torta said. “It’ll be a good reminder of why I’m working so hard.”
Puttee forced a laugh. “Don’t try to get all cool now. Also, I need a sample of the Devil’s Tincture. That stuff clearly has powerful effects on healing and regeneration.”
“Of course, sure,” Torta said. He stopped a few steps away. “Who is Legging?”
The group turned to Puttee. “She’s our mom. Her death is what broke my family.” She giggled. “I knew Spats was never going to give the king his wish.” Torta smiled, and Gaita patted Puttee’s back.
“I take it we’re splitting up, then?” Scallop asked. “Sounds like we’re splitting up.”
Puttee sighed as she felt the moment break. “Yeah, same groups, same mission.”
Scallop felt chastised. “Sorry.”
The group went through their preparations and got settled onto their respective ships. Torta and Dragon reentered Dragon’s old ship, which had a proper training space. Torta looked at the remaining Devil’s Tincture, after giving Puttee a sample. “At two drops a person a day,” he remarked, “we could probably get another three months out of this, easy.”
“Yeah, probably,” Dragon agreed placidly. Torta could tell Dragon wasn’t quite there yet, mentally, after two major defeats in a row.
Torta went to the command seat and selected a course to the signal he staked out. With their journey underway, the two of them got to training. Torta knew he should feel ready to move forward, but something about seeing Dragon so beaten down held him back, as well. Nothing he said to Dragon lifted his spirits, and he was not sure how else to help him.
They arrived on the next planet a week later. It was a rocky world, covered in thin mountains carved full of holes and tunnels. The sky was murky and full of clouds. “Looks like we’re the first ones here,” Torta remarked happily.
“Good,” Dragon said, visible relief on his face. Torta didn’t like that.
From the various holes in a nearby rock spire emerged strange creatures. After a moment, Torta realized they were the local Namekian tribe; he didn’t recognize them at first, with their six limbs and insectoid body plan. “Greetings,” said their leader. “I am Thorax. Welcome to my home. I’d invite you inside, but these tunnels are not accessible for humanoid beings like yourself.”
“It’s all good, thanks,” said Torta. “As soon as we get the Dragon Ball, we’ll be gone. I don’t want to bring you extra trouble.”
“The Dragon Ball is here, then?” asked Thorax. “I thought I felt it. I would like to offer my assistance in helping to locate it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dragon interjected. “It’s a nice offer, but I’d rather not have anyone else’s life on the line. The enemy could show up at any minute.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel,” Thorax said. “I wish you luck.” He turned back into his tunnel, and the rest of the tribe followed.
Torta turned out to the horizon. “I guess it’s that way?”
“Yeah, in a deep cavern of the largest mountain in this area,” Dragon said. He took to the air, and Torta followed. Three valleys away, they arrived. The mountain was much wider in base than many others around it, and was covered in all sorts of caves and tunnels all over. The two landed at the base of the mountain. “So, you wanna check each tunnel together? There’s no way of knowing which one will lead underground, if any of them do.”
Torta sighed. “Yeah, let’s go together. It’ll be too easy to get lost and trapped alone, and I don’t want it to collapse because I busted out a new hole. This is going to be a slog.”
Hours passed. Torta and Dragon went as far as they could through many tunnels, either finding that the path narrowed too much after a certain point or that the path did not lead down, and often both. The task was as tedious as it was time-consuming.
Suddenly, the mountain was rocked violently by multiple huge explosions. Both Torta and Dragon were inside at the moment, and saw rocks and boulders tumbling down around them. Torta moved towards the exit, but Dragon held onto him and extended a shield of chi around them, letting the rocks fall.
Once the rumbling stopped, Dragon released an upwards burst of energy from his shield, and the two flew out of the hole. On the surface, they found a wider hole leading down through the bottom of the mountain. “The nearest Saiyan or Demon Clan vessel looked days away,” Torta remarked.
“Clearly, they’re getting better about tracking.” Dragon said.
Soon enough, the enemy rose from the depths as a pair of Saiyan warriors. They were twins, bald and wiry in build, each with only one shoulder pad on their battle armor. One was holding the red three-star ball. “You know them?” Torta asked Dragon.
“No. They’re new.”
“Look, Ube,” one of the Saiyans said. “Dragon was supposed to have bene killed by Daikon!”
“We’ll have to correct that, Jimaca,” said Ube. He pointed to Torta and Dragon. “You two get to die at the hands of the newest officers of the Saiyan Empire! Rejoice!”
The heroes charged in right away, and the fight started. Torta clashed with Ube, and Dragon with Jimaca. The two new officers were indeed exceptionally powerful, stronger than most any untransformed officer before them. Torta estimated that Ube was probably below Bagaruta, but not by too much. Eventually, he decided to get serious and see how much he had grown. Putting real force behind his attacks, Torta pummeled Ube, pushing him back and on the defensive. Ube seriously struggled with the intensity of Torta’s barrage. Looking over at Dragon, Torta found him fighting evenly with Jimaca, and it looked like Dragon was unsteady and holding back.
With a growl, Ube fired a chi blast into the rubble to make a dust cloud. Torta and Dragon covered their eyes. “We’ll have to let loose to win!” Ube said to Jimaca. The two charged up a lot of energy and fired dozens of blasts into the air. When the dust cleared, Torta saw Ube and Jimaca towering over him as Great Apes, the sky littered with artificial moons made from their chi. “We’ll never let you destroy all these Power Balls or cut off our tails!”
“We could beat Super Saiyan Bagaruta now, if we worked together,” Jimaca said. “You two don’t stand a chance!”
Torta rolled his neck. “I’ve beaten multiple bigger giants,” he said. “You don’t scare me.” He charged in, and quickly found that a Great Ape Saiyan was very different from a genmajin hybrid; despite the increase in size and mass, Ube was far swifter than before and still able to focus on the battle as if he were Torta’s size. It was a different and interesting challenge.
Dragon felt overwhelmed. No matter what he did, whenever he started fighting, or even just sparring with someone, he remembered what it felt like to overcome the odds against Bagaruta or Daikon, and then see them explode past expectations. Whether or not a transformation was involved was secondary, though the idea that there was one beyond Super Saiyan did lead him to fear his Saiyan oppressors would have infinite transformations beyond his capabilities. If he ever faced Daikon again and managed to overpower his second transformation, Dragon feared he would simply unveil a third. Jimaca was fast, ferocious, and highly skilled at combat in his Great Ape form. The increase in power made him a formidable enemy, a clear step up from before. Dragon was able to keep up his guard, and was not at the limits of his own strength, but he still anticipated a moment when Jimaca would announce he would unleash his full power and devastate him. Going all-out would force that moment to come sooner. Jimaca laughed at Dragon. “Like a No-Tail could ever defeat a Great Ape!” he sneered.
Ube laughed with glee as he traded blows with Torta. The human champion had adjusted to the size difference and got heated in the battle; just as Ube seemed to think he was winning, Torta felt a kind of joy in facing an opponent he could handle for a change. It was rewarding to know his work was paying off, even if he knew he had a long way left to go. Ube made a good break from the elites of the Saiyan Empire. Torta dodged a knee strike, putting him in range of a smack to the ground. After recovering, Torta looked up to see an energy bomb over his head, with Ube raising his right fist to the sky. With a call of “Parsley!” Ube dropped his fist, and a massive energy wave dropped down onto Torta. Alarmed, Torta fired a powerful BLT to counter it.
As he was locked in this beam struggle, Torta looked over to the other fight and saw Dragon being crushed in Jimaca’s hands. At first worried, Torta focused more and found that Dragon was resisting just fine, but wasn’t breaking out. Snapping, Torta deflected the Parsley and flew up to kick Ube away. “Daikon didn’t let you live!” Torta yelled to Dragon. “He mortally wounded your spirit! Doesn’t that mean it’s supposed to come back stronger?!”
Dragon felt something spark inside of himself again, hearing those words. He was a Saiyan warrior, no matter how much Daikon and his empire tried taking that honor away from him, and he always came back better than ever. He chuckled and looked at Jimaca, the proud tail user, and how his power ultimately paled in comparison to Bagaruta, let alone Daikon. He survived those fights, and he could win this one.
Torta kept the pressure up on Ube, breaking up his elastic armor and then pounding into his unprotected gut. He could feel the battle reaching its climax, and Ube came up just short. Ube charged a massive mouth energy wave, so Torta tackled his mouth shut as he fired, causing the energy to burst in his stomach. While Ube reeled from that, Torta held out his fist and fired a massive energy beam from it, calling out “Club!” The beam tore through Ube’s throat, and he reverted to his normal form as he fell to the ground.
Now dodging and parrying Jimaca’s strikes with relative ease, Dragon let his usual confidence slip out more. He formed energy blades on his feet, saying, “Dragon’s Tails!” He formed energy claws over his hands, saying, “Dragon’s Fangs!” Armed in such a way, he whipped around Jimaca, cutting deep into muscles and gouging out blood vessels. With each pass, Jimaca was left weaker, and Dragon made more ground. After gouging out Jimaca’s eyes, Dragon placed his Fangs over his head and began spinning, flying like a screw through Jimaca’s heart with a yell of “Maneater!”
Dragon whooped loudly, his cheer echoing across the many valleys of the mountainous planet. Torta flew over and hugged him. “It’s great to have you back!” he said.
“Thanks for the kick in the rear,” Dragon said. “It feels great to have a big win under my belt, after the last two fights.”
“Just look forward to beating Daikon,” Torta said. “Fighting with Spats at the beginning of this trip, I learned the hard way that training with the expectation of loss kills your momentum; that’s what helps me keep going when I’m hopeless. Maybe it helps that it’s fresher in my head?”
“Probably. It is easy to lose sight of your past lessons. I needed this.”
Descending to the ground, the two heroes searched Ube and Jimaca for the Dragon Ball. Dragon found it on Jimaca. “I lost track of which one was holding it,” Torta admitted.
Dragon looked into its red luster. “We have what we need now,” he said. “So why keep looking? After what happened last time, I think going for more balls is a waste of time. We should just train and get ready. We’ll have to get most of the balls from the Saiyans or the Demon Clan anyway.”
“Good point,” said Torta, smiling. “I like that plan. But we should probably move first. I don’t want to attract trouble for the people of this planet.” Torta took to the air, so Dragon followed him back towards the ship. As they flew past the first spire, Thorax emerged, and Dragon waved the ball. Thorax smiled and waved in farewell.
Once back in their ship, Torta went to the command seat and opened navigation charts. “I figure we’ll go for a quiet, out of the way moon,” he said.
“Actually, I know a place,” Dragon said. He put in some coordinates. “It’s an old, abandoned mining colony. Someplace I used to call home.”
All original story, all original characters! Check out Dragon Ball ‘Redux’!
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Life in the Gutters 