PART TWENTY SEVEN: THE NEW ABILITIES OF FUSION

Chapter 131

Translated by npberryhill

Cell stared at his juice-covered hands as the count continued. Though he perceived the old doctor’s gaze on him from nearby, he didn’t care. All that mattered now was Vegeta, who he knew was also watching. In all honesty, he had to admit this confrontation hadn’t provided the opportunity for improvement he’d hoped, and he’d made little progress as a result. If anything, it had been a nuisance, both for himself and his former enemy. His own perfect strength still paled in comparison to that of Vegetto or his daughter — he’d be crushed in the blink of an eye. The same was true if he were to face Zen Buu, though the djinn was currently imprisoned. Gast might also be a concern, he wasn’t sure, but the main question was Goku and Vegeta... the full extent of their improvement was still unknown. If they proved even stronger than Gohan, the fight would no doubt be exhilarating, but he expected in his current condition he would lose. Cell couldn’t be certain, but from what he’d observed Gohan’s new power was masterful in and of itself. He needed time to think.

He headed to his balcony, where his six juniors were waiting, jumping with joy and excitement. Their father shot them a sharp glare, instantly silencing the children. Without pausing, he headed straight to his apartment.

“I’m going to wash up, try not to do anything foolish,” he instructed.

As he neared the doorway, Vegetto leaned over the divider wall and grinned. “Hey, Cell! Try not to kill any of your children this time!”

Freezing in place, Cell clenched his fists, tensing up from head to toe. Vegetto was well aware of the unbridgeable gap between their power levels, and seemed to delight in reminding Cell where he stood at every opportunity. But Cell refused to allow him the satisfaction of a reaction, and tried to relax as he disappeared into the corridor.

“Dad, do you really have to provoke Cell that way?” Gohan reprimanded him. “He’s dangerous, maybe not to you but... you say I’m number two in the universe, yet there are several here even stronger than me. Broly — who nearly overpowered even you, Majin Buu, and potentially Cell. It just seems wise to avoid extra attention.”

“Nothing bad will happen as long as I’m here,” Vegetto mockingly replied. “You worry too much about all the low-level enemies, just fight like I taught you.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Dad! You view everyone as inferior!” Gohan replied, eyes stern. “You can’t just behave like a child whenever you feel like it, like there aren’t any consequences. But you sure love giving lectures to others on self-control, maybe you should listen to your own advice and get some modesty.”

“Woah, calm down there, boys,” Bra intervened, sensing the situation worsen — and her father’s anger beginning to kindle. “Gohan, you might mean well, but Dad’s got a valid point too. As long as he’s here, there’s no risk. And Daddy, stop being a selfish idiot. If you want to provoke the scum, at least wait till I’ve crushed all my opponents and won the tournament! After that, whatever you want is fair game!”

“That’s if you’re strong enough,” Trunks snarked from behind her, earning himself a fist in the face from his sister, throwing him against the wall.

Cell, his hand on the doorknob, had paused to spy on their conversation. Indeed, Gohan was the same as ever, always vying for a peaceful solution. He’d even kept himself under control, so to speak, when his daughter had perished in the hands of that vile pirate. The perfect android found it a bit nostalgic thinking about ways to tear the anger out of the boy, knowing full well it was the key to his hidden strength. When that righteous rage had been briefly glimpsed back in the first round, Cell had realized full well the truth — it was enough power to stand up to him. Gohan was as formidable a foe as ever, only further evidenced by the strength he summoned during Buu’s escapades. Such a shame he hadn’t wanted to compete...

Hardly had he returned to his quarters, the door shutting fast, that a terrible pain seized his mind. He slumped to the ground, grumbling as he grasped his cranium. A few blocks away, the tiny yellow wizard laughed cruelly.

“Who would dare attempt to control me!? Me, Cell! Impudent... I will find you... Argh!”

The more arrogant he became, the more his mental defenses cracked under the witchcraft. Through his years of experience he’d never dealt with anyone skilled in this kind of wizardry, and thus was unprepared for the attack. Nevertheless, he refused to stop resisting. Babidi’s laughter had subsided, frustrated that the green bug was able to put up such a fight. Reading his mind, the ancient sorcerer was able to discern what ways to best tempt Cell.

“You’re not free...” the wizard spoke into his mind. “You want to fight, but they won’t let you... Surrender yourself over to me, and I’ll let you do whatever you want... These Earthlings that you so desire to fight, they’ll be all yours...”

Cell huffed at the notion. Certainly he wished to face Gohan again, which by rule was strictly forbidden at the tournament. But to become a submissive slave just to achieve that end? Never! The first time they’d fought had been manipulation enough, this time he wanted their battle to be free, grandiose, a ultimate showdown of rivals.

The whispers in his mind continued, murmurs of spite and vice. Some of them seemed familiar, and he recognized that this went far beyond a mere attempt at control. There was a grand scheme in the works, one that intrigued him. How far would it go? Cell felt sure he could break free from any controlling force, no matter how strong; his pride would never allow him to be submissive! And yet, this could be interesting, a way to position himself to succeed in things to come. It was loathsome to submit, but the wise play was to give in, at least for the time being...

Moments later he straightened up and headed for the shower in the next room, eyes darkened with Babidi’s cruel vices.

Meanwhile, the heated debate over Raditz was still ongoing amongst those from universe 9. The Saiyan had tried every bit of diplomacy he knew trying to win Old Kai to his side. But for each argument presented, the Elder provided an equally valid counter. The fighters all stood gathered around, Videl, Tenshinhan, Kulilin, and Yamcha. None of them was keeping up with the events of the tournament outside, though Yamcha peaked out the door from time to time. He wanted to make sure he was there to advise and encourage #18 in her fight. After all, cyborgs had to stick together. Her miraculous repair concerned him, and he hoped nothing bad would come of it.

His attention turned back to the conversation at hand, the subject matter now being the Saiyan’s brother, the psychopath named Kakarotto.

“What do you intend to do with this third individual? You clearly intend to eliminate the other two, I can sense a great resentment in you against them, but... for the third, affection. Care to explain?”

“It’s unthinkable for me to kill my own brother,” Raditz answered calmly. “He’s all I have left. But I do promise to take responsibility for him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t run loose like he used to.”

“So the Saiyan actually has a heart in there after all,” Tenshinhan grumbled, standing over his shoulder. “I didn’t think your kind were capable of feeling emotion.”

“I thought so too, but, there are a few exceptions,” Kulilin added. “Son Goku from universe 18 is kind, as is his family. Even their Vegeta seems nice, especially compared to yours. According to them, Goku and I are best friends back in their universe. But your Kakarotto couldn’t be more the opposite. In all honesty, I don’t see how you could control such a monster.”

“That’s enough,” the elder Kaioshin raised his hand. “I see your heart, you’ve told the truth. You would gladly eliminate the other two, and you would at least try to take care of your brother. However, that has little to do with the liberation of your entire universe. There’s no guarantee you’ll free those countless slaves on innumerable worlds. Fewer oppressors does not necessarily mean less oppression...”

“Indeed,” Raditz acknowledged with a smile. “But, subjugating worlds and lording over their inhabitants as a tyrant has never been my aim. Those are the delusions of Vegeta, the Emperor of Ego himself. As for me, I’d be content to live in a small corner of the universe with my brother. We’d keep just enough to live comfortable lives and leave the rest of the universe alone.”

“Oh yeah? Are you really going to stop doing evil altogether?” Videl asked skeptically.

“No, that’s not what he said,” the god clarified, clasping his hands in front of him. “What he means is that he will only perpetuate criminal behavior on a small local scale, no longer a galactic one. He’s still a Saiyan, selfish and battle-hungry. But, he’ll no longer have anything to do with Vegeta’s Empire or mass genocide. What he’s proposing is the lesser of two evils, one that suits his own ambitions well.”

“I’d say that’s quite a good deal, wouldn’t you?” Raditz said with a grin. “You’ll have helped free millions, billions of lifeforms, across the galaxy from tyranny. That’s the sort of thing that appeases you, and the deaths of those like Vegeta. I hope you’ll consider it, venerable elder.”

The Saiyan was obviously quite pleased with himself, for having told the truth exclusively. He knew most divines could read thoughts, or at least the thoughts of people. No pretended noble purpose was need in this case, or even promises to change — that would’ve been a lie and the Old Kaioshin would know. Fortunately, he had the advantage of context. Vegeta as Universal Overlord was a true horror, one that actually made Freeza look like a choir boy. Of the two evils, surely the elder would choose the lesser...

The silence in the room was heavy, only interrupted by the sighs of the deity. The Earthlings stared at Raditz, whose wore a satisfied grin, eyes shut. Through the cracked door, they heard the announcer’s voice.

“The next match is about to begin! We call #18 of Universe 14 and XXI of Universe 5!”

Yamcha opened the door hurriedly. “I’ll let you guys sort this out, I wanna see this match. Keep me posted though!”

The cyborg was relieved to get away from the tense atmosphere of the apartment. He much preferred supporting #18 in her fight, especially since her opponent wasn’t just a kind hearted old man. Once outside, he quickly flew to the universe 14 balcony where Eighteen was preparing herself for battle, her brother observing silently — he still appeared quite troubled from his earlier defeat by the two girls. The second his foot touched the ground he was greeted by a fearsome look from the twins. He was about to say something when movement from the Universe 5 veranda caught his eye.

The old man that had defeated Vegetto flew silently into the ring, his face as indecipherable as an ancient tome. A close observer might’ve also noticed he kept his hands deep within his baggy sleeves. Yamcha had a bad feeling about it, and even #17 was uncomfortable eyeing such a mystifying character.

“Well,” Yamcha began, his tone extremely serious. “He’s a magician, deceit and trickery are his allies. If you want to win, you’ll have to strike first — and I’m talking immediately, the millisecond you touch the ring. Otherwise he’ll just send you to another dimension like did with Vegetto. You’ve gotta be faster than you’ve ever been.”

“Leave me alone,” Eighteen rolled her eyes sharply. “Nobody tells me what to do!”

“Then just be careful,” Yamcha finished, annoyed.

“You know, sis,” #17 conceded after the unwanted guest finally left, “it’s the right strategy. I know what you’re thinking, I feel the same way, but... if it were me I’d do what he said.”

“I know,” his sister growled as she climbed the low wall, annoying the Varga in their area. “Just shut up, I didn’t ask for either of your advice.”

Without giving her brother time for another quip, she flew off, tapping the wall as she passed. She charged the wizard immediately, whose face remained inexpressive. The Vargas took note that she hadn’t yet touched the arena, paying close attention. When she was but a few feet from the old magician, #18 tapped the ground, renewing her momentum and throwing her attack. With her fist fully extended, it took only a millisecond for her to reach him. She felt no magic affecting her — Eighteen smiled with confidence, believing she would succeed where that super powerful Saiyan had failed! She was only a meter away, hearing her brother’s shouts of encouragement, when...

Nothing. Like a light going out without warning, her vision suddenly faded, as did the spark of life that burned inside her. At that last moment of consciousness, just as she felt the energy exiting her limbs, she stared up into the wizard’s eyes, barely ajar. From a distance, no one else could really see them clearly, but she was up close. They were nightmarish, an intense abyssal blackness staring down at her. Her last emotion was an unimaginable terror, and as her consciousness escaped her, #18 collapsed.

Those present in the grandstands, spectators and participants alike, only saw her body fall suddenly on the ground — it was assumed the gravity had been the cause, immobilizing her the instant it took full effect. The young woman’s inert form lay still in front of the magician, pupils empty. He hadn’t even spoken a word, Buu and Gast were certain of it, and both were quite shocked.

“Wait, what?” Yamcha and #17 exclaimed simultaneously.

“That can’t be it...” Yamcha continued, stunned.

“Eighteen!” her brother yelled. “Don’t be stupid, get up! He hasn’t even done anything yet!”

A laugh interrupted him, an almost silent cackle barely above a whisper, and yet it reached his ears as if carried on the wind. It was a sordid and pretentious sneer, one that sent shivers down his spine. XXI then uttered a few words, each tinged with a certain dark melody, ironic and cruel — like a requiem whispered in dramatic fashion.

“Fortunately I kept the button pressed...”

Uncrossing his arms, he revealed to all his frail wrinkled hands. Thin boned fingers traced their way down to sharp nails, seemingly feeble as they grasped a rectangular box. Trunks from universe 12 recognized it immediately.

“But... that’s one of the remote controls!” he exclaimed, amazed. “It’s exactly the same as the ones made by Gero and my mother, but, how could he have gotten it?”

“This is highly suspicious,” #16 said from his side. “It is not likely that a magician from another universe would possess knowledge of Earth technology. I’m afraid in this case, I can theorize no rational hypothesis to the situation.”

Realizing what had happened, #17 yelled in rage and fear, held back by Yamcha who also trembled.

“You bastard!!” the twin brother cried. “You’ll pay for that, old man! I swear, you’re gonna pay!”

“Calm down,” Yamcha tried to intervene, holding him by the shoulder. “If you get anywhere near his remote you’ll end up exactly the same way she did. And unfortunately, he technically didn’t break any rules. If you attack him, you’ll be the one punished and sent home with your inanimate sister. Is that what you want?”

Seventeen lowered his fists, eyes still intense with rage. Yamcha patted his shoulder, a serious look on his face. “I’ll go and get her, I’m not sure you could handle the gravity without being repaired.”

As he headed to retrieve the girl, he couldn’t help but feel bad for her twin brother. He felt useless, humiliated and overwhelmed. And in that sense of desperation, he was suddenly seized by a crushing headache... which subsided a few seconds later. The anger still burned inside his eyes, but it was no longer the same. No one noticed the difference.

“Why you poor little thing...” a shrill voice spoke to him telepathically.

Meanwhile, Yamcha took the inert cyborg in his arms, contemplating her with an expression of sadness and resentment. His eyes then drifted toward XXI, who had flown back to his patio and was already on his way back down the dark corridor to his apartment, back turned.

“I really don’t like that guy,” Yamcha murmured. “Not one bit.”

Over on the Kaioshin balcony, Buu and the Grand Kaioshin were in full agreement. This magician represented a mystery that needed illuminating quickly, and the consequences of not solving this puzzle could lead the tournament to disaster at any moment.