Going Native: Smell of the Storm (2/2) ch.25 (Patreon)

Time stretched to impossible lengths, my refusal seeming to echo through the air over the hump of hundreds of plasma weapons. I should have spent that second thinking of a plan of attack, or how I was going to deal with this mess. I should have used it to figure out how to leverage what I did have or think of a way to buy myself more time so I could use it to think of a plan. Instead, that long second that felt like it stretched on for hours was filled with absolute silence as I simply waited for that moment to pass. 

Then the moment of silence was broken. Countless beams of plasma raced towards me from every angle, cutting off any hope of dodging. There were simply too many coming from too many directions. 

So, I didn't dodge them all. 

I blurred forward, angling myself out of the way of powerful plasma blasts from the Champion scarab. My body moved on instinct, ki flooding towards my hands as I cupped them by my side, ignoring the intense heat that washed over me as I dodge the most dangerous attack by a fraction of an inch. A ball of ki formed in-between my hands, condensing and shaping how I wanted it to. A disk emerged, spinning so rapidly that the edges became jagged, giving the appearance of teeth. 

It wasn't a plan. It was more like two guesses that I hoped were right. The first was that the scarabs had too much inherent value to simply throw away. When they were in the positions that they were -- friendly fire was almost a given unless the formation they were in accounted for it. The scarabs would have to fight in targeted locations to avoid using themselves out when they all fired as one, and there had to be enough room in the formation to account for any misfires, allowing a scarab to dodge. A small gap in the net. 

The second was the idea that if a Destructo Disk could be shaped and thickened to serve as a platform...then surely it could be shaped like a shield? 

I was about to find out. 

Time resumed, snapping from slow motion to regular speed in a split second as a torrent of plasma slammed into my ki shield, knocking me away from the plasma attacks as I used the momentum to slip underneath the powerful blast of white-hot plasma and made a third hope that it was strong enough to serve as a shield. Curling my body up, I used twin Destructo Disks to cover my flanks as countless streams of plasma slammed into them hard enough that it felt like I would be crushed before my techniques failed. Which left the only avenue of attack was from below, and it was the tunnel. 

Now I had to slip through the net. The obvious way was down, back towards the base. So, naturally, I flung myself backward the Champion scarab -- the one place they wouldn't expect me to attack. My shields held as I darted towards the scarab, adjusting my path as it angled downward to hit me. I twisted as I neared, angling one shield so it deflected plasma downwards, the edge of the attack rapidly approaching the scarabs chest and- 

It moved out of the way and, just like that, I was free of the net. The entire exchange lasted just over one second. 

Continuing forward, I threw my Destructo Disks, the attacks swerving around the special-class scarab as it gave chase, but I wasn't aiming at it. The disks expanded, taking out small two rings of the encirclement -- not all died. Some were merely bisected at the waist since the formation was collapsing to give chase. It wasn’t what I wanted, but every scarab counted. 

Maybe, if the entire team could control themselves in the Wrath State this wouldn't be an issue. Maybe if all of the other saiyans could control their oozaru form...but they couldn't. Right now, it fell to me to thin out the scarabs enough that we wouldn't be overwhelmed when we tried to leave. 

The Champion rushed me, extra thrusters forming on its back to give it the speed that it needed as twin cannons formed on its shoulders. I knew something was different about them the moment I saw them charge up -- Sparks of white condensed into a ball before my vision was filled with white as the attack was deceptively large. 

Forced to throw myself to the side, I fell into the trap it had set with the other scarabs that fell in line. Missiles screaked towards me along with dozens of blasts of plasma. I lobbed a ki blast at a missile, but these reacted with the kind of precision that I had never seen from a scarab before. Where the black hole formed, the other missiles flared out as if each one was being controlled remotely, before they zeroed in back on me. 

I responded by falling back. The dense metal of the buildings that made up the shield of the planet offered up some resistance as I pushed my way through them, just not enough to slow me down. A missile slammed into the building not long after me, but the black hole was too small for the others to have been eaten up in the black hole. Trusting my gut, I followed through the building, punching through the other side. Glancing back, I saw that the black hole ate that side of the building as well, opening a way for the others to follow through. 

They were hardly my only worry. The moment I punched through the building, the Champion rounded on me. A blood-red lightsaber made up one of its hands that raced towards my throat. I deflected it with a ki blade that coated my hand, causing the shoulder-mounted cannons to flare to life once again. Reacting, I flipped myself upwards, deflecting an attack meant to bisect me as I did so and put the scarab between me and the missiles. 

We fell deeper into the city that was left standing after me and the 501st carved our way through it. Scarabs went wide, taking potshots at me as I duked it out with the Champion scarab. Every sense was sharpened to a razor point, my blood surged through my veins, feeling so hot that it was like I was being cooked from the inside, while every fiber of my being sang with excitement despite the situation. Despite it all, the last time I fought a Champion scarab, I won but was left disappointed. This time, no matter what, I was going to earn the victory. 

I took in a slow breath, my mask still covering my face even if the oxygen tank had exploded, as I flew into a building, the Champion hot on my heels. Our blades clashed in a shower of sparks in the middle of it, a missile crashing into the building not soon after. The scarab tried to back off, but I knew they wouldn’t risk their heaviest hitter to friendly fire, so I chased after it, all too aware of the missiles following me. 

The cannon on its shoulder shifted, interlays laying on top of each other. I tensed, ready for- my eyes went wide as a wall of noise hit me with concussive force. I wasn’t prepared for that in the slightest, but I still reacted fast enough to prevent myself from being deleted from the universe. I shifted my momentum upwards, punching through the floor, a fraction of an inch away from losing a toe when a missile tried to do the same. 

My breathing was even as my mind raced. No matter how it looked, I was winning this fight simply because I had more win conditions. My goal was to make sure that the ship would be able to take off when the time came. I could do that by giving them something else to focus on or to thin their numbers enough that they couldn’t overwhelm us. Fighting them like this also prevented a counter-attack that I’m not sure we would be able to survive with these kinds of numbers falling on us. 

Their win condition was to kill me. So long as I was alive, I was winning. 

I let out a breath slowly, weaving through a mess of plasma fire that set off another missile. I channeled ki to the blades before launched as the crescent of ki at a vanguard. It managed to get out of the way in time, but it put it out of position to suffer a blast of friendly fire from another scarab behind it. It didn’t do anything to the scarab, besides distracting it long enough for me to kill it before moving on. 

“I can do this,” I told myself, keeping my breathing even as I dove back into a building, punching through it at an angle to throw myself at a vanguard. It was odd, but I’m not sure if I’ve been in a more dire situation like this, yet my mind tried to wander. I forgot to pee before I put the hard suit on, or that I haven’t eaten anything in a while. Stray thoughts that tugged at my razor-sharp focus. Was this because I haven’t slept in about three days? 

Now that I thought that I haven’t eaten in about a day, my stomach growled so fiercely that a vanguard flinched bad enough that it opened itself up to an attack that took its life. I used its corpse as a springboard, kicking off of it before flipping in midair to black an attack from the special-class scarab. It seemed to have a preference for close quarter combat, I noticed.

“Tarble?” Fasha’s voice rang out in my ear so suddenly that I nearly missed a thrust that was aimed for my heart. Even still, I kept my breathing even as I fought against the scarab, flipping out of the way of a plasma blast. The special-class scarab didn’t bother as it pushed through it to follow me. 

“Kinda busy,” I answered shortly, my brain trying to get me killed by wondering if there was a problem on their end. If there was, then I wasn’t sure what I could do. Maybe try a cheap shot like I did the last time? That could work, but I would only get the one shot. I would have to save it until I was certain that it would work. 

“The packages are secure, but I’m not sure how long they will be. We just lost two signals -- they’re searching for them now,” Fasha explained as I leaned out of the way of a swipe to return the blow, sending an arc of ki out as I slashed at the special-class scarab. I carved a deep groove into its armor, but it wasn’t enough and the mark faded almost as fast as it appeared. 

Any other time, I might have despaired at that news. The mining laser wasn’t finished -- it likely hadn’t even begun. If those packages were found, then hundreds of our troops died for nothing. If they removed them, then we wouldn’t be able to make our own exit. But...perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the hyper-focus adrenaline surging through my veins, but I simply rolled with it instead of dwelling. 

Right now, it all came down to timing. Every millisecond was precious. And there was only one of me.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye -- a vanguard heading away from me- they were going back to the entrance. Could the Reach track that I was talking to someone? Could they hear what I was saying right now? There was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? I blasted off after the vanguard scarabs that were making their way to Fasha, ki flooding to my hands as I prepped a Hellzone Grenade. 

“Blow them now and build the bomb that’ll reduce this planet to ash,” I ordered. Time was everything now. It was a race against the clock -- for us, it was to escape. For them, it was to crush us before we could destroy the planet. Everyone was rushing to their own goal and I could only hope that the Reach tripped before we did. “I don’t care if we all die with it,” I snarled savagely into my scouter. 

There was a beat of silence. “Yeah! If we can’t have the planet then no one can! Ha, I like it!” Fasha announced and I really, really, really hoped she got the message there and didn’t blow us all to hell. As she spoke, I fired my attack, balls of ki ripping through buildings before I detonated them, the world becoming a giant explosion. Building toppled, falling to the ground and crashing hard enough that others collapsed on themselves. 

The attack warded off any stray missiles, obscuring me for a short second. A hand went to my scouter to type out a message. It was short, crude and the definition of shorthand, but it got the job done. Before the Champion scarab could attack me in the explosion, I blasted forward towards the entrance. A vanguard got in my way and paid for that with its life, but beyond that I was in the clear. My scouter picked up Fasha at the edge of the tunnel in her base form. I was glad for it. 

“Tarble-” Fasha stated, only to be cut off. 

“Make sure it gets done,” I ordered, tearing the scouter off the side of my head before I launched it at Fasha. I didn’t have time to look to make sure that she caught it before the special-class scarab fell upon me. 

I couldn’t be in multiple places, and Matillo was right. I couldn’t do everything on my own. 

That’s why I had a team. 

…

"2 m Scb. Atk sn. I dly. 1." Fasha read out the message Tarble left on his scouter. "B fst," she muttered as she continued down the pitch-black tunnel. It only took her a moment to figure out what it said -- too many scarabs. Attack soon. I'll delay. Alone. Either build fast or be fast, but she guessed there wasn't much of a difference. "Damnit Tarble," Fasha cursed, her hands clenching at her sides. 

Feeling useless wasn't something she had a lot of experience with. Not since back when she was a kid that screwed up so badly that she got her team killed on their first mission and if it wasn't for Gine's soft heart, she wouldn't be a warrior at all. And now, she and the team were forced into the sidelines while they were forced to rely on a child that hadn't even gone through his first growth spurt yet. Simply because if she, if any of them got involved, then they'd only get in his way. 

Even still, Fasha had half a mind to slip into the Wrath State, fly back up top and hope that a good battle would give her the kick that she needed to not lose her mind. Odds were that's why Tarble gave her a message to pass down to avoid her trying exactly that. 

"Detonate the packages now! Tarble gave the order," Fasha announced as she neared the base. 

"Packages detonated!" An alien announced it's tone nervous. Fasha guessed she had to believe it since she didn't feel any of the telltale signs of an explosion. Though, she guessed she wouldn't given the nature of the bombs. "Seventy-three percent of the packages were successfully delivered. The mission was successful." 

Well, Fasha guessed they were owed some good news. "Tora, we have a problem. There are way too many scarabs up top and Tarble thinks they were preparing an attack. He's holding them off now." 

"Does he need reinforcements?" Their vice-captain asked, his voice tinged with static. An image appeared in her mind of Tarble moving at speeds that he had, fighting against a swarm of scarabs in a battle that was leveling a city on accident. At first, even though she had seen the holovids, it was so hard to believe the boy she had known for pretty much his entire life had managed to kill a Green Lantern, even if it had been a fluke. 

It only started to sink in that Tarble hadn’t just surpassed them in strength with the Wrath State, he completely left them behind. 

“No,” Fasha said, wanting to say more. “I’ll explain soon. The Reach is listening in on our coms,” Fasha informed, getting a muttered curse out of Tora. It certainly explained some things. With a frown tugging at her lips, Fasha blew past whatever defenses that the Frieza-force soldiers put up. Matillo's stark white oozaru stood out in the darkness as he stood guard with Parslee's. Which suited her just fine. 

It didn’t take long to reach Tora. Luckily, Shugesh and Borgos were with him. Tora was sporting some scrapes and burns as he handed over some of those Capsule things filled with compost, which she learned from others was a fancy word for crap. 

"What's up with Tarble?" Shugesh asked, an uncharacteristic frown on his face as he noticed her first. That brought Tora and Borgos' attention to her as she touched down a few feet away. It felt wrong to be standing here while Tarble was up top fighting, but, as much as Fasha hated it, it couldn't be avoided. 

"The Reach was planning to attack and they have way more scarabs than we thought they would. Hundreds of them from what I saw." Tora looked alarmed, recoiling from the number. "Tarble said he'll give them something to focus on until we're ready to leave." 

"Prince Tarble is stalling the Reach...by himself?" The useful alien that Tarble called Technician muttered in confusion more to itself than to them. 

"Did he say anything else?" Tora asked, his voice grave as he clenched his hands at his sides. Fasha knew him well enough that he hated feeling useless just as much as she did. Because, in the end, that's what they were right now. They lacked the strength to do anything, forced to rely on Tarble and his strength. 

"Not much else. He seemed convinced that the Reach were listening in on our communications since he told me to build the bomb and blow ourselves to hell." At least that's what she was hoping that happened. The first time they saw Tarble in the Wrath State, it was like he was willing to kill them for so much as breathing the wrong way. He mellowed out considerably, and somehow that was a thousand times more terrifying. "What do we do? She asked Tora, dreading his answer because she knew what it was.

"Tarble hasn't proven himself to be a liar, so if he says he's going to delay the Reach until we can leave this planet, then I'll believe him," Tora said with tired resignation. A few more days, a week maybe, and they wouldn't be in this situation. They could be up there fighting instead of being down here talking. 

Tarble made the Wrath State look easy, but it was anything but. 

"How long will it be until we're good to go?" Tora asked, unable to dwell on their weakness. 

"I would like more time to do system checks, but we don't have time for them...six hours, at least to build the laser." It must have seen their expressions at that number because its shoulders slumped in defeat. "We are at the mercy of the nano forges. We can’t go any faster." It said its voice firm. It had a spine, Fasha gave it that. 

"So, what, we just sit here and twiddle our thumbs?" Shugesh spat unhappily, a hand going to the hole in his gut that was slowly becoming flesh. 

“No,” Tora said with a shake of his head, throwing on his thinking face. “The bomb, it’ll take out a planet, right?” He asked the useful alien, a gleam in his eye that reminded Fasha of Bardock. She was glad for it -- Tora was stuck in a rut the moment that Frieza promoted Tarble over him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. 

“Most certainly! It will-”

“Good. Build it then,” Tora ordered, ignoring the aliens sputtering. Shugesh rose an eyebrow at that, looking faintly amused. 

“Are we blowing ourselves up?” He asked, making Tora crack a smirk as he silenced the useful alien with a wave of his hand. 

“No. That planet with the radiation,” he clarified, a hungry grin tugging at his lips. Realization dawned on Fasha as Shugesh began to laugh, “the mission can still be pulled off. As we make our escape, we hit Skrew with the bomb. How long would that make this planet useless to the Reach?” He asked the alien, making it fall silent as it gaped at her team. 

It took a second to think about it before it nodded to itself. “Depending on the resources spent on cleaning up the radiation...in as little as three years with top of the line terraforming tech.”

“Perfect,” Tora stated, earning a nod from her. The mission was to put this place out of commission. Frieza wouldn’t be happy about spending money to terraform the planet to get rid of the hard radiation, but three years wasn’t that long of a time. Just long enough that the Reach would be forced to abandon it and their mission would be a success. 

“Talk about pulling a victory from the jaws of defeat,” Fasha muttered, slugging Tora in the shoulder. He flashed her a grin, only to have it fall a moment later. Hers fell as well, realizing all of this hinged on a single point of failure. She let out a small sigh, running a hand through her hair, "who'd have thought that Tarble was hiding that kind of spine from us?" She asked, her lips thinning into a rueful smile.

"Definitely not Bardock," Tora commented lightly, bringing up an issue for the far off future. They could deal with how they misjudged Tarble at a later date when they were sure they would be alive to have that discussion. “But, for now,” he continued, bringing his attention back to the alien. “Get us some of those nonmatter bombs. If they’re too many scarabs, then we need to spread them out even more. You lot are with me -- we’re going to go give them another exit to worry about.”

“The 501st would like to put another option on the table,” a new voice pitched in, its voice rough. Fasha glanced over to see it was the really weird black and white alien that seemed to be the leader of the 501st. It looked worse for wear -- splotches of red stood out against its dark skin, a rough bandage over a stump of an arm but it carried the injuries well. Well enough that Fasha knew the identifiers of a regenerator when she saw one -- only they could move with a missing limb so easily simply because they knew it would grow back. 

Tora gave it his attention, “you're the one squad that came back, right? You sure you want to go back out there?” He asked, his voice challenging. The black and white alien nodded firmly. 

“More than anything. You saiyans aren’t the only ones that want to fight. I have a lot of dead friends that I have to repay the Reach for, the entire 501st does,” the alien stated, and, surprisingly, Technician nodded as well. Fasha grinned at that -- those were fighting words, and she loved fighting words. “And we owe prince Tarble for pulling our asses out of the fire. We don’t let debts like that go unpaid.”

“Heh,” Shugesh chuckled, cracking a grin. “I like it.”

Tora nodded, “let's hear your option then.” The alien said it and Fasha’s grin only grew. Others looked down on weak aliens, but she found that she rather liked those that decided that they were going to hit way out of their weight class. Even if they were stuck using weapons as their only solution -- she knew first hand how useful the things were to understand their usefulness, even if they were her last option.

“Get it done then,” Tora ordered, slipping back into command like a pair of old boots. The alien snapped off a salute with its one hand before turning on its heel and marching off to complete its self imposed mission, and to scrounge up another round of volunteers. 

Which would take the pressure off Tarble, Fasha thought with a nod before she leveled a serious gaze on the alien. “You have six hours. Make sure we can get out of here by then.” There wasn’t a need to threaten the alien into submission. If anything, judging by its expression, it was just smart enough to not take a swing at her for implying that it wouldn’t be ready. 

“Six hours. Not a second more, or you can leave me on this rock,” Technician stated. 

“Good. Now, let’s go make sure that brat doesn’t get himself killed.”

…

"These things sure are handy," Fasha commented as they found themselves in the pitch-black darkness of the tunnel again. They flew upwards, Matillo and Parslee in tow, each of them carrying a couple of capsules that contained enough of those bombs to clear out a few new entrances. "But Queen Teach is going to be pissed with him using all of this tech." 

"Hm," Parslee grunted as they flew to their destination. Fasha thought the Saiyan was handsome and, more importantly, strong but if you surgically removed his personality, Fasha wasn't sure if she would notice. But, she guessed you didn't need to have a great personality to be good in bed. Would explain Queen Teach's new kid. 

"I believe that has slipped prince Tarble's mind," Matillo returned with a chuckle. The old man, she was less sure about. He carried himself with this air around him that no matter what it was, he had seen it before a dozen times. That was only enhanced when she recalled overhearing from one of the low-class that the guy was apparently a thousand years old. Somehow. It also didn't help that he had a habit of staring right through people like he could see every thought in their head. 

"Are we sure that he's still alive? Prince Tarble has proven himself, but to stall hundreds of scarabs on his own…" Parslee commented, bringing the mood right back down. It was honestly like the idiot didn't understand she was trying to take people's minds off the fact that Tarble was fighting for their lives against overwhelming odds alone. 

Tora let out a small sigh, "we haven't seen a scarab yet," he pointed out. "So he's still alive. If anything, he might be doing too good of a job and we won't be able to pull any heat from him." 

"It will be sometime before the shame of this will wash off," Matillo stated, summing up everyone's thoughts. 

"Can't be helped, though," Shugesh returned. "We can't tough out the Wrath State like he can. Until we can, we're deadweight." 

At that, they fell silent. Not that it mattered because they had reached their destination -- a level that was a straight shot on the other side of the planet that they intended to leave from. Tora’s hand glowed before he blasted through a bulkhead door, clearing the way for them to rush forward. The silence was a heavy one as they rushed through halls, blasting through new ones in the name of speed. None of them were slow, but it seemed to take them forever to reach their destination. 

Yet, according to her scouter, it was only a meager hour. Worse, there hadn’t been a single scarab to offer up any kind of defense. Tora might have meant it as a joke that Tarble was making himself too big of a target, but if they didn’t see one soon, then Fasha had to assume that Tarble was taking on every single scarab on the planet. 

It was too long. The defenses were too weak. It let her mind wander to things other than the task at hand. It shouldn’t have been much of a shock that her mind drifted to Tarble given the situation, but her mind drifted to a few words that she had almost said after he took her back to her bunk. Words that she wanted to say but knew that she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

“What a mess,” she muttered underneath her breath. Tarble should be on board with the coup against the royal family. Bardock must have thought as much, else he would have killed Tarble when he had the chance. He was practically the poster boy for their rebellion -- the class-system should be done away with because a power level didn’t determine your capabilities. 

If it did, then every member of her team would be dead a thousand times over. What’s more, King Vegeta was proving himself to be a coward by hiding out on Planet Vegeta while Bardock continued to prove himself throughout the war, yet Bardock wasn’t king. If the system made an ounce of sense then he would be. And where was the prize for working-class saiyans like Leek? 

Leek went on the same missions as they did, he survived them despite every odd, and he did it with his skills as a pilot. Yet, King Vegeta and his ilk wouldn’t recognize him as a warrior even if it killed them. His own son, Tarble, was evidence enough of that -- not counting the Wrath State, the sheer number of techniques he created, his rapid advancement...yet, until recently, he was a low-class saiyan.

Though, Tarble was a weird kid. A really, really, really weird kid that was an absolute freak of nature that was probably going to go down in legend if he already wasn’t. Their people called him the Low-Class Prince, and if there was anyone that should hate the class-system, it was Tarble. Only now she learned that his motivation was seeking acknowledgment from his family -- King Vegeta, Prince Vegeta and Queen Teach. 

People that had to be killed when Bardock overthrew them. Worse, Tarble was being acknowledged. First Prince Vegeta throws an absolute fit over Tarble, and now Queen Teach was acting all weird towards him...if Tarble sided with the Royals when the time came...

Fasha shook her head, trying to get rid of the stray thoughts, wishing that a scarab would appear to-

Then, as if to answer her unspoken request, a power level appeared on her scouter. A vanguard scarab. 

It’s pitch black armor revealed itself as it tore through a level to cut them off, nearly coming down directly on top of them. Fasha jumped back, her face twisting into a scowl -- it was like they could hear her thoughts or something. 

Time seemed to slow as she saw the bright blue glow of its plasma blaster aimed directly at Tora, who started to form an energy attack in a desperate attempt to survive. 

They couldn't win against a vanguard. Not in these confined hallways too small for them to be able to transform into their oozaru state. This exact situation was why Tarble created the Wrath State in the first place. 

But none of them had managed to master it. The most any of them had managed was a few seconds of thought before they lost their minds...but...maybe a few seconds was all that they needed. 

Fasha dipped into the power of the oozaru and felt pure hell flow through her. The power moved like sludge in her veins, stretching them out until the point of tearing. Only that sludge was plasma because it burned her from the inside out, the agony was indescribable. For the past twenty-five years, Fasha knew pain. There was no way that she hadn't when she crawled from the lowest of the low-class to one of the strongest mid-class, but nothing she had ever experienced before could prepare her for the hellish pain coursing through her. 

Even spending the past few days trying to adapt to the pain, to find a balance between it and the rage that demanded that she lay waste to everything. It sounded so simple, but giving in to the rage grew so tempting as the flames grew, fueled by the pain until one or the other overwhelmed her mind. Already, she could feel her control slipping, only now Tarble wasn't here to stop her. 

"RahhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHH!" Fasha screamed, rushing the vanguard, a fist raised high. Its blade shifted, going to take her arm off, only for her to lash out with a foot, catching it in the stomach. What once was a hard, unyielding metal gave way underneath the force of her blow, her foot tearing through its stomach. The vanguard folded over, offering up a perfect shot at the scarab on its back. 

She destroyed it with a fist, triumph singing in her veins as the vanguard died. Fasha tossed the corpse away, the rage and pain surging through her. Her gaze landed on Tora, who wore a grim expression as he prepared himself to either enter the Wrath State or be killed by her. 

Then, Fasha let the Wrath State go. The power vanished, disappearing like it was never there, a phantom pain still lingered but compared to what it was, Fasha could ignore it easily. Floating back down, her breathing heaved, sweat dripping down her face that she wiped away. Despite it all, a smirk found its way on her face. 

“Three seconds,” Fasha stated, wishing that she had some water. She could manage to control herself enough in the Wrath State that she could let herself let it go for about three seconds. That was...just how far ahead was Tarble? She could control herself for three seconds and Tarble hadn’t left the Wrath State in three days. Worse, he was in perfect control over himself now. 

Fasha knew there was a gulf between them in terms of power, but now she caught a glimpse at just how large it really was. Because, she knew, that Tarble was only going to get stronger during the time she was spent catching up. 

“Well done,” Matillo complimented, nodding in her direction. “An interesting approach,” he said, sounding like he was going to be stealing it from her. That was fine. Actually, that was perfect. 

“Let’s hurry up and detonate the bombs,” she said, standing tall and squaring her shoulders. “And see if we can snipe any scarabs from Tarble up top.” At that, Shugesh smiled fiercely -- unsurprising, he never liked being left out of a fight. Borgos nodded, munching on a strip of jerky that he kept somewhere. And never shared. 

Tora nodded, “Can’t let him have all the fun.” He said simply, his tone even. She knew by that tone, he was thinking about the future beyond this battle. About what-ifs that wouldn’t matter for years. And she’d be a liar if she said she hadn’t thought about them as well. But, in the end, Bardock had the chance to kill Tarble and hadn’t taken it. That was reason enough for her to make sure that Tarble didn’t get himself killed here. 

With that, they took off, time ticking by as they set up the bombs before Tora detonated them. A time consuming anticlimactic mission that was absolutely tortuous because they knew the reason why nothing was happening was because of Tarble. Any resistance that was left on their way back was torn through like they weren’t even there, not a single scarab to delay them. 

“Both projects are nearing completion. One hour left,” Technician gave them a heads up through a message on their screen. Either it though the coms were safe, or it was trying to bait the Reach. Either way, they still had another hour left until they could get off this irradiated rock. For perhaps the first time in her life, Fasha hoped their next one would be an easy world to take so they could focus on mastering the Wrath State. 

“We hear you. See you in one,” Tora answered as they reached the main tunnel before blasting upwards. Fasha’s heart raced, images of the brief fight that she had seen when she went up. For three seconds at a time, she would be able to partake in that fight. Between all of them, they might have a chance to cull their numbers to the point they could leave whenever they wanted. 

It didn’t take them long to reach the top of the tunnel. Fasha braced herself to see a warzone, trying to picture the carnage of the fight that Tarble had inflicted on the Reach. 

The very last thing that she expected to see was a Champion scarab holding Tarble by the neck as it drove a blood-red blade through his chest before yanking it down, carving through his ribs until it exited around his hip. Along with her heart, Tarble began to fall.