The Turncoat War Criminal Meets Vocado Bonewood

Rumbling echoed from far-off city streets in the ruined metropolis. Though they could be mistaken for thunder, they were not so. Dilapidated buildings lost their footing and slid from their precarious places, and glass, shattered and splintered as it already was, crumbled to powder in the wake of the shuddering of earth.

Light flashed on the horizon, but it was not lightning. Energy bullets, hundreds of them, if not thousands, rained alongside the storm clouds, pelting the deserted cityscape with their fury.

For a Super Saiyan was on the hunt, and his prey was a vile beast.

"YANGCOOOOOOOOONG!"

The bellowing roar cracked concrete beyond repair. Vocado had heard on the wind that a bastard had come back from the dead, and so it was only natural that his rage was kindled. Were it anyone else, perhaps this fury be muffled in some way. A quiet fury. But this was no ordinary perversion of life. This was Yangcong.

Pitt's murderer.

Closer and closer, with each volley of bullets, Vocado approached the supposed hiding place of the man. So wretched he was that laying in wait in some decrepit hovel seemed too good for him. Yangcong deserved a shallow hole, half-buried in a grave that nobody bothered to finish digging.

"LET'S SEND YOU BACK TO HELL, YOU FREAK!"

He wasn't quite sure if the monster was even here, but if he were, one of these buildings surely hide him. Another volley or three ought to do the trick.

---

There he was. The rat bastard.

Raising a hand, Ki bubbled between each of his fingers, as well as within the webbing that connected them. Before long, his entire hand was alight with energy, which released in a hailstorm of energy bullets. Thin, weak, but seemingly endless. Death by a thousand cuts, as they say. Wordlessly, the bullets rained down, billowing smoke and debris in their wake.

Vocado snarled, like a wild beast. That's what he was in that moment, one might suppose. Fueled by a maddening rage, he was no better than an uncaged animal; out for revenge in the most hateful way possible. But somewhere deep, in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to reel back somehow.

Yangcong was no pushover. That much could be detected in his raw battle power. Having survived this long, a man of his ilk surely had tricks up his sleeves. That, combined with his duplicity, meant that this was a warrior not to be trifled with.

As the attack subsided, Vocado allowed himself a calming breath.

"I owe no explanation to you. Ender of countless lives, ruiner of countless more. To put you down is a privilege-- No. It is my DUTY!"

His aura flared around him, a swirling maelstrom of Ki, burning only half as bright as the fury nestled within his heart. For the first time in his life, it felt like he was truly using the Super Saiyan state for its intended purpose.

"Submit now and I'll ensure your death is quick." A sneer betrayed his true intentions. "Though, I make no promises for the pain..."

---

Fast. Surprisingly so.

Vocado braced himself for the counter-attack, slipping back to evade the grasping hand with moments to spare. Their eyes locked; Vocado's cool blue combating the gaze of Yangcong's piercing red. He felt a sneer tug at his lips again. An impossible expression to keep hidden behind a veneer of calm in this moment.

"You'll die clueless to your killer, swine."

Pedaling back, Vocado released another wave of energy, though this one came not from his palm. Instead, the wrist-mounted cannon on his left side began to thrum, and within a moment, the blast shot forth, crackling through the air like a bolt of electricity. Powerful though it was, it would do little more than pester Yangcong at his current strength.

He needed his enemy on the offensive. To learn his foe's tricks; to study, and to counterattack. But to play passive was to show one's hand. He needed to aggress. Put himself in danger to allow the claws of his opponent to be revealed. Only then could he cut them clean from the paw.

After his blast kicked off, Vocado would follow shortly behind it, a standard barrage of strikes lashing out at the pretender before him. Practiced punches and kicks, aimed to overwhelm the Tuffle and keep him from formulating a proper strategy.

Their clash continued, a wordless bout in the skies above a ruined expanse. How funny: it wasn't long ago that a Tuffle and a Saiyan fighting among these ruins was a daily occurrence. Skirmishes for small bits of land, even destron-choked expanses like these used to be, were all too common. How different was this battle to those, he wondered.

Vocado scanned his surroundings as Yangcong blurred out of sight, a thin sheet of Ki coating the Saiyan's person as he scanned. There was no telling what trick he'd see first, nor in what fashion.

The answer came in the form of a dagger. Glinting gold dazzled through the air, which was caught by the blade end as it approached. Before long, it exploded in his hand, expelling smoke. Had it not been for Vocado's foresight, that little sneak-strike would have dealt the first proper blow to the Super Saiyan. But it was not so.

"A famous trick of yours, or so they say," he called through the smokescreen. "Taking it easy on a foe like me will simply lead you to an early grave!"

Vocado's form blurred away before the smoke finished clearing, phasing back into view mere inches from Yangcong's face. Another vicious barrage was let loose, though this one was potent; more powerful, more furious, more directed. Ki laced his fists, and each of the countless blows was akin to an atomic warhead when it made contact.

It was a furious barrage, and one not so easily ducked or weaved. Pinpoint accuracy was one of Vocado's specialties... Or at least, he certainly claimed it to be when his head was level.

After his flurry of rapid jabs and hooks, Vocado would finish off with a fierce haymaker to the stomach, followed by an elbow to the back of the head, hoping to send Yangcong careening into the streets far below.

---

It wasn't often Vocado had a chance to fight in such high-octane battles. He'd seen plenty of war before, but the level of feats capable by warriors of his own magnitude continued to surpass his expectations. Super Saiyan or no, the types of attacks his foes could survive nowadays were... Unreasonable. He hadn't expected Yangcong to die from this strike, but to pop back up so quickly?

He should've expected nothing less from this abomination.

Vocado turned on his heel just as the flames began licking his body. In his fury, in his desire to push Yangcong to strike by pretending to be wide open, he'd made the near-fatal error of actually leaving himself wide open.

Flames bathed him in a searing pain, leaving no scar by pure chance. Vocado had forgotten to drop the Ki shielding he brought up to defend against the "famous" golden dagger, meaning he wouldn't need to spend a week in the medical chambers after this (assuming he lived to make it there, that is).

Regardless, the pain was immeasurable. Nerves shrieked in agony, yet the shock spurred him on. Kindled his hate.

With the force of revenge pushing him forward, he slipped out from under the flames, rolling free of them. Despite his fortitude, his body was shaking. Adrenaline poured into his veins like clockwork.

Floating above the rubble as flames danced across the streets, he allowed his Ki to pour out like a fountain, burning through his reserves with reckless abandon. He roared, and his aura exploded outwarded, like a massive shining beacon. It pierced the clouds, finally culling the rain.

Flame-licked, bruised, scuffed, cut, and most of all, pissed, Vocado pulled his hand back, and poured Ki into a balled fist.

"YOU DIE! NOW!! FOR PITT! FOR AMARA! FOR EVERY SOLDIER YOU LED TO DEATH!"

His towering aura collapsed inward, coalescing into a point on his hand. The pinprick of light expanded, and, with a thrust forward, it exploded.

A mighty wave, golden, volatile, and ever-shifting, tore across the sky, aiming to vaporize Yangcong and erase him from history.

---

Vocado shook his head, dispelling any disbelief. He didn't want Yangcong dead just yet anyways; his ability to defend against such a strike was unexpected, but fortuitous. More tension could be released. More fury could be expelled, like heat from an exhaust pipe. Was that all he was now? A machine, built to kill? In this Super Saiyan state, it certainly felt that way.

Despite the exertion, Vocado kept his guard up, leaping up over the incoming whip. Spinning through the air, he soared downward, aiming a divekick for Yangcong's face, hoping to shake his footing with the blow.

"Have you picked out your headstone yet, cur? There's plenty of hunks of rubble around here that'd do the trick!"

His voice dripped with malice. Oddly enough, whenever Vocado was furious, his speech became more verbose. A symptom of his royal upbringing, one might suppose.

From the aftermath of his kick, he'd spin his body around, converting a huge amount of energy into a spinning roundhouse. His aura flared from the effort, and he could feel sweat beginning to bead.

He was pushing his body and his Ki reserves to the limit. This was the first time in over a year that he'd actually had to put effort into a fight. If he didn't pace himself...

---

Yangcong evaded, to which Vocado clicked his tongue. Annoying. It was getting highly annoying, in fact. Funnily enough, however, it was that tick of anger that brought his mind back up a layer. Rather than plunging into fury, he felt a strategic twinge echo. Reminding him to focus. To stay on his toes. The goal of his assault was to get Yangcong to attack.

Watching and waiting, his brow furrowed as armor became weapon. Manipulatable gear was nothing new from Tuffles, but Yangcong seemed to have quite the advanced set of armor. There was no telling how he could manipulate it, nor how free his hands needed to be to do it. A mental note to keep for later, surely.

Flicking his wrists, Vocado let his arms become alight with Ki. Akin to armguards and gloves, the thick Ki sheeting would defend against the sword strikes. He deflected the coming blows with practiced finesse. Like a boxing coach, he redirected the strikes away, backpedaling as they came toward him.

"Your blade-work is shoddy. You'd make better use of it by holding the sharp side and turning it toward your chest!"

Vitriol and malice. A thin veneer of superiority layered over top. For the first time since the fight began, he cracked a smile. Sinister, of course, but a smile nonetheless.

Saiyans love combat, after all.

With a fierce motion, Vocado attempts to bat the blade away, and send a Ki blast for Yangcong's chest. Intent more to annoy than to harm.

---