Zarbon and Piccolo stare at one another, with a harsh breeze blowing into them, with dust being propelled into the air. It rises high, but its altitude quickly drops. Like a flash of lightning, Piccolo flies in, and buries a fist into Zarbon’s face, sending him staggering backwards. Piccolo then soars in, and attempts to attack again, but Zarbon is alert as always, and manages to bury his elbow into Piccolo’s face, following it up with a kick in his chin. Piccolo’s head is almost knocked clean off, and he is sent backflipping over, landing awkwardly. He lies on the floor, a crippled heap, unable to move, contemplating what to do in this provisionally tragic situation. Zarbon becomes closer, starting to get battle fatigue, as his vision begins to become weary that his opponent may be more formidable than he first thought, after the epic encounter with Goku took an awful lot out of him. Zarbon towers above Piccolo, ready to attempt to finish him off, when suddenly, Piccolo gets a burst of life, sweeping the changelings legs, then kicking him as he falls, sending him shooting across the floor, skimming a few times before coming to a stop.

The sun beams down brightly, with blindingly dazzling light being emitted from it, lighting up one of the greatest battles that anyone is ever likely to witness. Piccolo lies on the floor, bleeding in the mouth, his gruesome, purple blood trickling down his pointed chin. Struggling to his feet, he tries his utmost best to focus. Somehow, no matter what he does, Zarbon keeps getting up.

“This is looking bad, but never mind, I can win, I have heart and spirit. He looks pretty worn down from fighting Goku too, he must have used some pretty big attacks.” Piccolo commented to himself.

“Very perceptive Namek” Zarbon answered fiercely. “That was a devious trick you used on me, but I won’t fall for anything like that again! You fool; you really think that you can win? I am quite simply, infinitely stronger than you!” Zarbon flips up to his feet, and stares Piccolo down for a while. Trying to gaze a hole right through the Namekian’s chest, evilly looking on, intense hatred starting to formulate in his bitter eyes. Zarbon powers up slightly, then charges at Piccolo, laughing manically, pain the only thing on his mind.

“Let’s do this then you ugly bitch!” Piccolo cried out, before preparing for the onslaught. Zarbon swings at him, intent on simply making contact for the time being, hitting Piccolo ferociously in the cheek, and knocking him backwards a little. Following up, Zarbon aims for the Namek’s cheek once again, but this time Piccolo gets his guard up, blocking the punch, then delivering a kick into his enemies stomach. Zarbon falls to one knee, looking up in agony.

“You’re going to pay for that bastard!”

“Doesn’t look like you’re in the position to make threats, friend.” Piccolo scoffed.

“Damn you!” Zarbon screamed, shooting a KI blast of awesome power, and intensive energy straight at Piccolo, sending him soaring deeply into the sky. Of course, when one attempts an energy beam when on one knee, it is impossible to gather the energy required to keep up its momentum, thus allowing Piccolo to roll smoothly off the beam. The Namek crashes down to the ground hard, bouncing at least a foot upon impact, and cringing up his face in pain, biting his lip to try to prevent it, but unsuccessfully.

***

Meanwhile, in the depths of space, Korosu and Bardock are hard at work training. They are sparring with one another, now used to the high gravity level, and moving at a similar pace to what they would do at the normal gravity for their planet…or at least their former planet. Now that Frieza has destroyed it, they have no place to live, no friends or family left, they are the last surviving Saiyans, assuming the ones on Earth are just stains in the pattern of mythology.

Korosu sits, pondering over this, what about if their journey to Earth was in vain? Still, at least they were getting stronger. It will be about a day before they arrive on Earth, due to the high speed of their craft. Little to they know that they are going to miss out on much of the action.

Bardock wonders aimlessly over to Korosu, and collapses down by him, breathing heavily. Both have been pushing themselves to the limit, and are dripping with sweat, and aching in every single limb. Neither man can put up a real resistance against the power of the gravity now, in their exhausted state, but Korosu has the motivation to get up, as Frieza begins travelling around his mind, taunting him. Turning the dial up to full, Korosu looks at the small display, seeing the figure ‘100’. Immediately he is dragged down, slamming his face down hard against the floor, and falling into a state of unconsciousness.

Whilst he is in this state, thoughts begin to interweave themselves in his mind, slowly forming up an representation, an icon, an image of the one he is after. A planet…fairly prosperous, dark, but thriving with people states its daily business, before a beam comes hammering down from the space, destroying the planet. Otaku screams benevolently, crying out in pain, whilst the other Saiyans grip tightly onto one another, as a bright beam cuts into the planet, before slicing it into two, and causing it to implode. A persons face comes over the planet, laughing hysterically, evilly, like a psychopath. The face is blurry at first, but slowly comes into focus. The familiar horns, the purple lips, the pale white, remorseless face, and the purple helm, on which the horns are mounted. It’s Frieza, the eternal enemy of the Saiyans. He was the cause of the destruction of their home planet, he was the one who must be punished, it is he who shall suffer a fate worse than death.

Voices introduce themselves into the vision. One stands out above the rest. It is a compassionate, yet strict, strong voice. It is oh so recognisable, coming from the mouth of Otaku, a great friend of Korosu.

“Listen child, our race has been destroyed, but Frieza holds the legacy of our people. The legacy, of you, Korosu. You must defeat him in battle, and take it from his very hand. Only then will your purpose of existence be fulfilled. First though, travel to Earth and meet with a Saiyan named Goku. He will be able to assist you for a short time, in teaching you new techniques, but his training prowess is limited. Take care, and be careful child. Don’t forget Korosu, it is your legacy, you must claim it one day…” With that, the voice slowly trails off, leaving Korosu clenching his fists tightly, cursing Frieza vividly, not realizing that his consciousness has been regained. Bardock stands over him, with a wet flannel, happy that his friend is in good condition. Pushing Bardock aside, Korosu immediately gets back to training, struggling to move in the hazardous conditions, but doing so all the same, due to sheer determination, and will-power, along with an added dose of hatred for Frieza. 

***

Zarbon stands over Piccolo, laughing frenziedly, with an insane look in his eye. He raises his hand to strike, in an effort to finish off his opponent, but still the Namek isn’t done. He opens his mouth wide, them lets out a roaring beam from it, catching the huge monster right in the face, and sending him diving backwards, screaming with pain, holding his smoldering face, as black patches appear all over it, and smoke rises from it intensively. Piccolo tries to keep his mouth open, but he has suffered too much of a beating to do so. His opponent is obviously a very powerful warrior, who turned out to be too dominant for him. With a short gasp, Piccolo fades away into unconsciousness, barely hanging onto his life. Zarbon gets back up to his feet, weakly, and stands over Piccolo once more, then holds both arms in the air. Slowly, energy gathers, and builds up, becoming greater, and greater all the time. It reaches an enormous size, with Piccolo defenseless to do anything about it. Zarbon throws down the energy, but before it hits, it is intercepted by a far more powerful energy beam, coming from directly in front of him. The beam knocks Zarbon’s own attack right into his chest, knocking him backwards, and making him land flat on his back, in agony, with even more smoke rising from him.

On the horizon stands a silhouette of a figure, panting euphorically, and holding his arms limply by his sides after all the energy used. He clenches his fist, roars, then charges forwards…