Post by Lord Chill on Mar 21, 2019 23:48:26 GMT -6
After giving Vocado the slip with his assistance in locating and investigating Chard. Now standing in one of the side streets near the palace, Chill gawked up at the garish and decadent manor that stood before him. Despite how difficult it had been to find any written or known location of the place - most likely due to the Baron's paranoia - one thing had quickly become very clear. Chard was fond of... overcompensation.
Even an Arcosian, a member of the most regal and posh race in all the universe, could appreciate the benefits of tasteful reduction. Though a small moment, Chill appreciated the levity his smirk at the structure brought, before the seriousness that was about to come. His mind raced, snippets of thought coming and going, anxiety building. What if Belle had been hurt? What if she was sick? Malnourished? Dying? Chard did seem the type to neglect a child.
Chill shuddered at the thought, leapt over the gate towards the manor. Approaching the doors, he droned out the sound of the two armed servicemen on either side as the reprimanded him for his presence, his ethnicity, his brazen disregard for what they had to say, and a few other remarks. Without paying them any mind, Chill pressed his palm calmly up against the antique mahogany door - which must have cost the Baron a pretty penny - and without the slightest hint of exertion sent the thing flying back, small chunks and scattered dust blowing back with singed highlights as they fell.
Before they could react, the two guards had been slapped unconscious with Chill's backhand, and he stood in the doorway staring furiously at the many frightened guards and servants of the old noble building. "BARON CHARD, OF CLAN STRONGBONE, I CALL UPON YOU!" Chill shouted out in a loud but stern voice, raising a finger to shoot one of the maids in the shoulder as she ran for cover at the top of the stairs. "BRING ME BELLE STRONGBONE, ALIVE, LEST YOU FEEL MY WRATH!"
It was a love as instinctive as it was learned, the one Kalabas nurtured towards Belle. It had changed him, undoubtedly for the better, as above all else she was the one that drove him forward, no other person or ideal came close to bring him so much purpose, to fill him with so much pride, joy, and once again, sorrow. Maybe Belle had also changed during what little time she and her uncle shared. She appeared more confident than when they first met, happier too, but perhaps that was only because of age. To his great shame and loathing Kalabas recognized that he had had very little presence in her life, Kalabas was to Belle what Chard had been to him, a detached relative idolized to unhealthy heights. But even if her love was born in a place of ignorance, that didn’t make Kalabas’ any less real. The guilt he felt for again failing to protect Belle was crippling, his anger with himself immense, he also did not know what to do with Chard. Should he kill him? Spare him? Belle suffered in his hands, but were they not the ones that had picked up young Kalabas when the boy’s father succumbed to madness? Something rotten festered in Strongbone manor, a secret to the Duke’s wistful eyes.
He reached Cacumber in seconds, and the manor soon after. He doubted he’d find any opposition, until he saw that someone had broken in one of the most well-guarded places in the planet… in broad daylight. Kalabas feared for the worst, he had no shortage of enemies vicious to the point of attacking his family, he himself was not above such tactics! Stepping over the two guards he had sparred countless times oh so many years ago, Kalabas saw a white figure firing a powerful beam at the chef’s wife “No!” He disappeared in a blur of motion, slapping the beam away. “What the devil are you doing here!?” The arcosian, to Kalabas indistinguishable from any other of his kind, soon reminded him of a sensation. That gaze, so full of power and ambition... Who else could it be if not “Chill.”
Alas, this was not the time to exchange double entendres or any of the sort, the Duke reigned in his whims as he assumed a fighting stance “You come to my planet, endanger my family, hunt me down where I am at my most secure… The nerve.” Kalabas spat, his phlegm splattering on the wall, it flashed twice before exploding a hole on the side of the building, which he pointed at the servants and guards to exit through. They didn’t need much convincing, they were terrified. “It’s because of Belle that you came, is it not? You took a liking to her, she told me so... Did you brainwash her like Bozo did to me? What, then, did you use if not masks?” Kalabas wasn’t merely making ‘polite conversation’, without his tail he stood no chance against his rival, stalling until reinforcements (servicemen, elites, capable house guards, anything would do) was his only option.
PL: 104,000 KP: 3/3
Last Edit: Apr 8, 2019 20:10:40 GMT -6 by Kalaboo: Typos
With the door crumbled and Chill's words called out, the silence broke quickly and the panic ensued. Chill waited a moment, seeking some kind of response from Chard or anyone as to the whereabouts of Belle. But instead of an answer, an absolutely unexpected voice sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes staring where he'd fired the beam, Chill quickly encountered the steely gaze of the would-be lover he thought dead. "KALABAS?" Chill gasped in shock, having grappled for the days of travel with the saddening reality that Kalabas had perished on Arcose.
"Belle told me you were..." No. There was no time for reunions, and though his emotions were kicked up in a whirlwind of curious and uncertain feelings ranging from disgust to passionate lust, Chill felt the need to press on for Belle. Before he could explain why he was here, Kalabas brought it front and center. Chill listened intently to his words, making it sound like Chill had come to stalk him or something. "Were this any other time..-"
Before Chill could make some sort of double entendre or witty remark Kalabas confronted him, asking if he had brainwashed Belle. Both confusion as to where this thought had came from and outrage at the implication surged through his veins. "The nerve! Listen here you, ignorant, blathering, hard-headed, mucus-inducing bastard. I have done no such thing! That you would suggest such a thing of me shows that we were not operating on the same level of mutual... oh what does it matter." Chill sighed, reserving the anger. He knew were it anyone else, Kalabas might have been right about this. It's not his fault that the stereotype is very applicable.
"The only thing that matters to me right now is Belle. First thing is first, I'm going to maim this gutless drone she calls a father. Then, I'm taking her off of this planet. She's suffered enough in this despicable place." Chill thought, though his instincts were probably making him a tad too aggressive about it, that if he appealed to the fatherly side of Kalabas he'd understand. "Make no mistake. If you get in my way... there is nothing I won't do to ensure her safety." It felt strange to threaten Kalabas over his own kin's well being, something Chill was entirely used to in any other circumstance... but it had to be done.
With his eyes fixed on Chill’s, it was through ki sense that Kalabas tried to see whether any signatures of note were inbound. Not a single capable soul was nearby, the fighter cursed his luck with a low snarl of frustration - how much time could he buy for Chard and Belle to escape? Seconds, perhaps even a minute? Certainly not enough for them to reach safety. “Alas, Chill, you’ll find that I do not die nearly as often as the rumors would lead you to believe.” was this the third or fourth time that such dire news reached the ears of countless others before the supposed deceased's? It was almost as if the entire universe and the forces behind it awaited with bated breath for the Duke to violently expire. At least Chard did, no doubt, why else would he have shattered Belle’s little heart?... Poor thing, shivering with fear in the cold dark corners of a mansion so rich with history and wealth without having any use of either, she wanted nothing but the warm embrace of unconditional love! And so did Kalabas, above all else he wanted to hold her tight and make good on his promise to never again leave her side, if away from her he felt incomplete, without her his life was meaningless, his struggle for a prosperous Vegeta and an all-conquering saiyan race in vain. That was why Chill’s presence brought him such deep dread, should the arcosian win, what odds did the uncle stand to again lay his eyes on the child? Perhaps in the far future he would see her again, a callous broken thing, more arcosian than saiyan in everything but flesh...
Even if Chill had nothing but the very best intentions, even if his venomous words were spewed with the highest degree of eloquence, Kalabas would have still stood his ground, stalwart, unflinching, deathly resolute. His aggression, his clear manipulation, managed to appeal to Kalabas’ paternal side, although not in the way the Director had hoped. “You shall do NO such thing! There is nothing you won’t do, Chill!? If this appalling obsession you have with my child sinks you to such depths, any word I say to you is naught but wasted breath! The fate of Chard is mine to decide, the safety of Belle my honor-bound duty!” Kalabas flared his aura, grounding to dust the worked tiles he stood on, blowing away the marble pillars that flanked him, “Vermin, stay away from my Belle!” All bathed in imperious tyrian flame, Kalabas threw himself at Chill for a ki-empowered tackle that would bring him out of the baron's abode and into the gardens should it connect.
Chill gave a sly smirk as Kalabas remarked on his supposed demise, nodding and raising a brow. "So it would seem." Quickly though, the time for flirtatious back and forth disguised as combative banter was cut short by the growing feelings to protect Belle that swelled in each fighter's heart. Kalabas' disgust with how low Chill might stoop to keep Belle safe, though he described it as 'obsession', was plain to see. Chill retained his composure, though disappointed that his appeal to Kalabas' fatherly nature had gone south with great haste.
With the aura flared, Chill was on his guard and ready to defend himself before the end of the word Vermin escaped his foe's mouth, even still being hard-pressed to avoid the roaring tackle that came his way. With a delicate pounce, Chill flipped forward overhead and slapped towards the back of Kalabas' head with his tail, dropping to the ground behind him as the wall behind would crumble under the force of Kalabas' ki-propelled form.
"If you don't mind my dear, as much as I'd love to draw this out... I have important matters to attend to." Chill's tone was riddled with sass and disgruntled annoyance, and he raised his finger to fire a shot toward's the shoulder joint of Kalabas' robotic arm. Symbolic, precise and creating a significant advantage by disarming his foe. It was a very poetic choice of action, Chill mused as his finger flashed and a streak of crimson red burned through the air toward his love enemy.
For all his anger, Kalabas remained a less dexterous acrobat than Chill. The arcosian oh-so-delicately somersaulted over him, making the Duke seethe at this perceived mockery. He crashed into a wall, bringing down most of the manor’s facade and from it suffering only a cut on the back of his neck. It hurt more than it should - the muscle spasmed as he laid his hand upon the wound while blasting the entombing rubble with a red glare, his skull still ringing from the tail swipe and then louder after he cauterized the cut with a flash of ki. Were this another time Kalabas would have praised his opponent’s fine motor skills and looks with only the barest hint of sarcasm, but not with Belle at stake. In truth Kalabas also fought for Chard - he would much rather have that bastard facing brutal saiyan justice than suffer the cruelty of arcosian whim.
“Do not call me dear, you ill-birthed skink.” he replied coolly, shifting to a more dynamic stance. Consciously, a fleeting sensation of deja vu made Kalabas cringe in long-gone pain, unconsciously, he put forth a barrier between him and the attack. “You remember.” the skewering, the humiliation, the very first interaction between the starstruck nemeses - it was a memory that Kalabas could not forget, but it surprised him that Chill would reenact the event with such gravitas. The end result was different, fortunately. “Sentimental fool.” the beam dissipated the barrier and vice-versa, a warmth blew the plaster dust from Kalabas, revealing his mangled and twice-scarred cheek. In the time it took to take a breath he disappeared and reappeared above his adversary, swiftly stomping his face like he had on Namek and using the momentum to land on the last flight of stairs. He leaned forward, metal arm infused with electricity and ki, a beacon of red light that could carve through any flesh. How well would it fare against arcosian bioarmor?, he wondered. Would he have the heart to deal the final strike, to end Chill? He would have to, Chill's death would do so much more than keep Belle safe! It would bring about the Fleet's eminent defeat, hasten their downfall like Ramen's halfhearted raid did not! So much evil had come to be because of Chill, so many king's men, good men, had suffered because of him... Would Kalabas let some passing affection stand in the way of the saiyan race? Had he not grown since that terrible day in the snowy peaks of Earth, was he the same spoiled self-serving brat? And what names would the people call him once they knew what Kalabas had done, he would be the Hero, the Iron Duke, the Victorious! Again the masses would look up to the elite, to see it as more than pampered oafs, smothered with self-importance! But these would be empty cheers and praises, nobody could ever know how much it would cost Kalabas to kill Chill. They were simply not meant to be. “It saddens me that it must be like this, Chill.”
Kalabas used [B1] Wonderwall (PL: 34320) to block [A1] Precision Shot (PL: 33000)! KP: 2/3
Belle’s PL: 100 From within the darkened halls of the manor, the distinct clack of booted heels on the floor grew louder. Around the two intruders, visions floated. Faint figures like ghosts drifted and walked around the foyer. The lithe figure of Chard halted at the balcony at the top of the stairs, staring down at the two uninvited intruders with baleful eyes. Dark circles etched deep under them. His eyes landed on Chill first, narrowing briefly as venomous thoughts pervaded his mind. The ghostlike apparitions flickered all at once, turning dark and more twisted, as if the manor itself was reflecting Chard’s state of mind.
As his eyes shifted to Kalabas, Chard’s expression softened in a practiced way. It was slight, but enough so that he knew his little nephew would be able to read it. As he did so, the apparitions settled, going from black, shadowy things to a more translucent grey.
“Kalabas… empathy for the enemy?”
Chard’s tone was gently chiding as if admonishing a darling child, yet each word was carefully barbed to drive the point home.
“I thought I taught you better.”
His eyes fell upon them both. The reason that they had both come was none other than his impetuous heir. Curse that child. He had thought that she might be of some use to him, but in the end, it appeared that Kalabas remained his best asset in his conquest. The ghostlike figures trembled and warped as Chard’s countenance darkened. Folding his hands behind his back, he scowled down at the pair of them.
“Belle. This is what this is about, is it not? She has taken ill in both body and mind. In such a fragile state, she will not see you. Either of you. Nephew, remove this trash from my sight. I shall attend to Belle personally.”
As he said that, the apparitions twisted up into horrid versions of people, radiating dread and fear. Faint noises of whispers and screams echoed through the hall as Chard turned on his heel. He would be done with this. This insolence. This rebellion. It would end. His child would become his pawn even if he needed to eliminate who she was to do so. This was the end.
From deep within the manor, Belle rested in a pod. Her face was flush with fever, her breathing in short, ragged gasps. In her chest, her heart pounded. She didn’t want it to end. Not like this. She wanted to see them again. She wanted to see them. Around her, robotic assistants milled, prepping her for whatever it was that her father intended to do.
Chill's poetic coup fatal was deterred by a subconscious flicker of ki, accompanied by a dynamic shift in stance and a jab at Chill's sentimental notions. Before he could return with some eloquent banter of his own, his faux foe vanished between blinks, the only thing alerting Chill to react in time being the quickening rush of wind from above as his own senses of deja vu kicked in, and with just enough time and energy to put forward he braced for the stomp with his bio-organic vambraces.
Kicking off of his forearms, Kalabas leapt onto a the stairs beside them and drove forward with an attack, which drove a deep gash into Chill's shoulder and left him reeling in pain as ghostly specters began to fill the foyer. With an admittance of the sorrow this situation wrought upon them both from Kalabas, the vile and despicable baron appeared astride his own ego and arrogance, resting atop the stairs on a balcony.
With a quick, barbed comment toward Kalabas the baron made his feelings abundantly clear, and Chill's stomach churned. It seemed the bastard had the same manipulative mindset toward all his kin, not just his darling Belle. Chill fought the urge to spit in his direction as he followed up his comment with an announcement that Belle would not be greeting them due to her lacking health.
"Baron Chard, you finally grace us." Chill's voice reeked of disdain and sarcastic eloquence. "I suppose you're planning to leave out the fact that her ailments are only present due to your terrible care, no?" Chill's body trembled as he gripped his fists, disturbed at the absolute lack of familial concern he could glean from this figure. He didn't care that he was Belle's father, nor that he was Kalabas' uncle. He was going to pound him to dust.
With each twitch of muscle his body shifted, twisted in shape and stretched out limber to a more lithe and elegant shape. The flesh rend from his shoulder stitched shut, a loud click echoing as the subtly dislodged bones popped back into place, and electricity raced through his nerves as his power skyrocketed. "I believe I gave you ample warning." Chill raised an arm, firing with deadly precision toward Chard, intentionally aiming to make him suffer. He... he deserved suffering. The same suffering he forced onto Belle.
Belle would suffer no longer.
CLOSED DE INITIATED [A1] Precision fired toward Chard, intention to end his life slowly! 66,000 damage!
Kalabas opened his mouth, poised for a whispered revelation before words were lost in the chaos of battle. Chill deserved to know the truth, did he not? But the young noble heard footsteps, slow and measured but fast approaching, and so he stilled his tongue and body, grappling with his clashing thoughts and impulses and shaking fists. He did not look right away but rather allowed himself to give Chard a glance - he was by far a more unnerving sight than the ghostly apparitions, but whether out of fear or respect Kalabas refused to take his eyes from his uncle as the old man spoke. Nothing of good came from those foul words. Although years had passed since they last talked in flesh, although the circumstances that had reunited them were grave, although Belle needed care with utmost urgency, all of this appeared to be but a minor setback in Chard’s inscrutable plan - somehow, in some way, he had arranged some part of this, Kalabas feared as much. Suspicions and conspiracies came bubbling to Kalabas’ mind, cobbled together from childhood fears of inadequacy and weakness, tools in Chard’s dexterous hands that he used to sculpt an elite warrior, and a most useful pawn. Did Kalabas grow too strong in too little a time, did his passions become unwieldy? And what of Belle? Was she a replacement, an upgrade, was Kalabas nothing more than a proof of concept in the sick machiavellian machinations of his uncle? Inner turmoil raged inside Kalabas but to the outside he remained silent and unmoving, showing no reaction to the strange noises of crackling flesh and chitin that came from behind him. From the corner of his eye he saw a hand raise, and a beam shoot out from its accusing finger.
“No!” Kalabas took hold Chill’s wrist, squeezing it as if trying to shatter its shell, when he looked back the shot had already connected… Chard was still alive, but not for long. “You bastard! He is my own flesh and blood! If there is judgement to be passed, punishment to be given, it must- it will be by my hand!” Kalabas let go of Chill and pushed him away with a thundering kiai, turning to face his treacherous uncle, approaching him with slow yet eager steps, like one would approach a great man. He could not keep the act and pretend that he was in control, Kalabas ran, he stumbled and fell and skidded and trembled as he knelt beside him and lifted his head from the ground, using his headband to stagnate the wound. It was in vain, there was nothing he could do now.
Time was fleeting, but there was so much to be said, as blood pooled on Kalabas’ lap words came to him slowly, painfully “How dare you...” Kalabas whispered, holding his breath, trying not to cry before the send-off. He failed. Kalabas did not weep like this when he sent father to exile, when the news of his death reached him, but Chard... “After everything you put us through, after everything you’ve done, how dare you to fail like this... TELL ME THAT THIS WASN'T FOR NOTHING!!... Th-This can’t be how it ends for you, father...” Kalabas’ arms wrapped around his uncle, his hug came from a place of want for affection, protection, the love he never received from his true father. Cruss fulfilled his role as a progenitor and little more than that, Chard was the one who taught Kalabas about the past, prepared him for the present, showed him the promised of the future! And to see that presence, that force, flicker away in gushes of blood… “Please, let this be madness and not cruelty… Let there be a time when you looked at me and saw promise, saw me as... more than a pawn or a tool...”
He kissed his uncle’s forehead as the hand with which he held his head pulsated with ki, powering up for a coup de grâce. Kalabas hugged him tightly, tears dripping down his face and on the moribund’s chest. “But this goes beyond me. What you did to Belle... what you're doing to her... I cannot forgive it. I will never forgive it. You must die.”
Last Edit: May 12, 2019 3:07:05 GMT -6 by Kalaboo: Fixed various poopoo grammar
Searing pain landed through Chard. Ah… this wasn’t…. part of the plan. He collapsed, holding the wound as blood poured from it. No matter. He could… adjust for this. He still had Kalabas. Had his staff. If he could manage to make it to the lab… the medical staff there could save him. They had a medical machine prepped for Belle once her procedure had been completed, but he supposed that would have to be postponed if only for a little while. As he grew colder, Chard noticed that firm hands held his head up. Kalabas. Yes, such a good boy. Hm? He was saying something. It was strangely hard to make out. There was a dull roaring in his ears.
A bloodied hand reached up to gently caress Kalabas’s face. He had certainly grown in the time that they had been apart. He looked just like his father in so many ways but… also like his own person. More than just a copy. No, perhaps Kalabas had already exceeded the original in a variety of ways. He felt strong arms wrap him up in a tight hug. How foolish. Sentimental. Didn’t he know that the enemy stood behind him? He could be hurt. He could be killed. Chard couldn’t let all the time and care that had gone into raising this boy go to waste.
“Kalabas… my son, my legacy… You are the future of this family...”
A proper heir. How ironic that it would be his own brother whom he hated so much to give him one. Well, at least he’d taken that much from his brother. Hah. But then he brought up Belle. A confused expression darkened Chard’s face. That girl was not his heir. She was barely his daughter. A weak simpering little child who couldn’t hope to muster enough power to save herself from illness. She certainly had an interesting ability. But it was something just as easily accomplished with technology. He had hoped that Kalabas would forge her into something that he could not, but it appeared that she had just been coddled. As she had taken ill, Chard just couldn’t be bothered to care, leaving her to his attendants. He had been more concerned with Kalabas, watching carefully from afar when he had joined the attack on Arcose. He had always been watching.
“I am… proud of you…”
Taking Kalabas’s hand in his own, he forced something cool and metal into it. This much he wanted to pass on. Chard didn’t want things to end here, but if they must… if this was how it was to be… then he would face the end with the pride that had carried him through his life. As the life drained away from his eyes and weakness took him, his hands fell away. What he left in Kalabas’s hand was his pocket watch. Engraved on the cover was the Strongbone family crest. Inside was a picture of Chard and Kalabas on the day that Kalabas had gotten his first assignment. It was a proud day for him. One of the proudest that he had known.
“I leave the rest… to you…”
With those words, the last of Chard’s life faded away. The ghost apparitions that seemed to haunt the manor faded away into nothingness. Far below in the lower floors of the manor, a sleeping Belle breathed just a bit easier, her small body relaxing. She rested just a bit easier as she weathered the fever burning up her little body.
A powerful feeling of satisfaction, the instinctual release of the adrenaline in his body now that the threat to his child had passed ushering in a wave of euphoria the likes of which he hadn't quite felt before. Even the truly poetic, ironic justice he'd delivered upon his most wretched foe had not been this vibrant and astounding a feeling. He remembered it fondly, the light leaving Thaw's color-drained form, the blood on his hands. He would have reveled in the feeling, if not for the strange other sensations that plagued him in this beautiful moment of confusion and pure, divine judgement.
Why did he feel... lost? Wrong. Dirty. Murder was always so easy, so completely easy to justify and pass onto others that rarely ever did it bring Chill to bat an eye at. Few lives carried meaning beyond the superficial, and yet... as Chill watched in the silent bubble of his euphoria, his eyes turned from glorious retribution and ecstasy to a quizzical mourning. With a brow raised, he watched Kalabas move to his uncle. His father, in many ways. He could feel it - the agony this death had wrought upon him.
Chill opened his mouth to speak, feeling that he had to say something. For the first time in his long career of merciless slaughter he felt a spark of need, a sudden urge that was unfamiliar in this context. He needed to justify his action, to defend himself. To assure his foe that this needed to be done. But, no words came out. Instead, as his breathing slowed, Chill watched in a whispered form of agony as the object of his affections and obsessions cried tears of mourning. He watched in quiet anger as Chard spouted words of praise and pride, of love and caring. Chill nearly spat at the ground, but bit his tongue on the matter.
Kalabas deserved that, at least. To believe that monster had cared deep down. But as the life left his eyes, Chill's mind snapped back into reality and his maternal notions took back the spotlight. "Belle." Chill muttered her name under his breath, slowly raising a hand to click his scouter. He'd hoped that he could locate her before Kalabas would turn around - he knew him well enough, and the man he respected would hold no bar to avenge his fallen kin. Chill held the advantage of power, but that could only hold so much in the face of unrelenting, pure rage. Agony beyond measure. Chill had an inkling of the feeling, a repressed memory from his youth.
With a subtle hint of knowing fear, Chill clicked his scouter once more and traced for the lower signatures in the building. The guards and burlier saiyans in the surrounding area would no doubt drown her meager, sick power level. After a second, it blipped loud enough to draw anyone's attention, and Chill winced much like one would when a door creaks too loudly. Looking toward where her signature traced, Chill spoke to her in a faint voice despite the lack of her presence. "I'm coming."
In the time it would take Kalabas to turn around or acknowledge the click, Chill would race deeper into the structure on the warpath toward his precious bellvine. There was nothing he could say or do to suppress whatever reaction Kalabas would have in the coming moments, and he knew that. As much as he would have liked to see Kalabas through this pain... Chill had come here for a reason. Belle needed to be freed, to be taken away from this hellish barren rock of dirt and sweat and painful memories. Any who got in his way would meet a swift and painful end.
Kalabas trembled, something had softly touched his face while he nestled against his uncle’s chest. He turned his head and saw Chard’s wrist and hand, as broken as the rest of the man. The red slick imprint of blood left by the graze felt warm on Kalabas’ cheek. He touched it, saw how it dripped down his metal digits. The lightness of the touch, its swiftness and unclear purpose… was it a caress? Trickling tears ran down Kalabas’ cheeks, mingling with sweat and blood, Chard’s and his own. Of course it was… Kalabas the son, the legacy, the future of the Strongbones, heard these praises and felt they were all undeserved. What future could be built on the legacy of a son that let his father die in his arms? There was defeat, and it was honorable, the stuff of which history and legends are made; and then there was failure. Kalabas knew the difference well and he knew he had failed, his hesitation lasted but a second and costed him the man he held dearest.... Yet, Chard was proud, he said so. And Kalabas knew it, for why would a man waste his last breaths with lies?... But was this was trust misplaced?
Perhaps sensing his fears Chard took Kalabas’ hand with what little strength he had left and forced upon it something. Kalabas could not tell what it was, only that it was small, compact, and metallic. It had a lid... A pocket watch? Kalabas ran his thumb down the worked engraving... No, it was the pocket watch. “Father…” he muttered almost without sound. Kalabas choked his sobbing, wiped away his tears - Chard’s last words should not be wasted on a histrionic idiot, he would face them with the dignity his father deserved. He saw as the spark of his soul disappeared from his eyes, as his mouth hung open slightly, his body freed from the tension of a lifetime of wounds and strain. He appeared to be deep in thought… If only... Kalabas closed his eyes and shut his mouth, he ripped a tapestry from the wall and wrapped him whole. Then, with a wheeze that betrayed a sob, he set fire to the pyre... “You were not a good man... But you were a great man.” he said as the flames grew wilder, consumed the man that had given him a life “You never lost sight of our people, our past…” Kalabas stood tall, straight, ready at last. He saluted. “My firstborn will bear your name. Thank you.”
Kalabas looked deep into the orbitals of the charred skull as if searching for an response, its blackened rictus a sign that the rite was over. Curious, Kalabas brought the dangling pocket watch up to his eyes. He had seen Chard using it countless times, he knew that there was something inside, but what? He flicked the lid open and was met with an old photo. He saw a man resting his hand on the head of a boy no older than twelve, Kalabas was posing and full of boyish glee, and Chard was glowering at the creature behind the camera with a grace that was very much his. They were father and son, and in their own ways, happy...
They would never share a moment like that again.
Chard was dead... Father was dead... Everyone was dead…
Everyone... but Belle...
Kalabas closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were a baleful teal. Something inside him was stirring, growing, hungry. This was like the wild beast of the oozaru but on a much grander scale. His grief, his anger, his very instincts themselves were taking shape in his body, changing him, ascending his whole being into something… above it. The pain was immense, revolting, he came crashing against the wall, he slammed his fist through it over and over and over. His cries were like those of banshees and thunder, his anger could shatter cities and worlds, and he stumbled through the manor’s hallways destroying and toppling and stomping everything in his path with spasmodic, unnatural movements. He saw his reflection on a mirror thrown to the ground, in its shards meeting the thousand-gaze of his mad eyes, illuminated by his cascading golden hair, his hate-filled aura. He had attained the golden form at great cost. He was too mad to think. To act, to fight, to kill, was natural. He had to protect his young, avenge his elder, and annihilate his enemy. Thinking hurt, it made him weak, a beast would not have hesitated…
KALABAS POWERS UP TO SUPER SAIYAN (x15)!!!!!!!!!!!!!! New PL: 1560000 KP: 7/7
Last Edit: May 19, 2019 0:19:22 GMT -6 by Kalaboo: I am dumb and ugly and cant do math
Belle’s eyes flew open with a start. Her whole body ached, and she felt horribly cold. Shivering, she sat up and looked around. There was an aura… that she didn’t immediately recognize. It was so powerful and fierce that she could feel its energy prickle her skin. Her heart pounded fearfully in her chest. What was going on? She didn’t see or feel her father’s aura anymore. Had he gone? Maybe this was her chance! As Belle gathered her wits about her, she noticed where she was. A laboratory. Several unfamiliar people stood around in strange clothes and masks. All of them stared at her. She could tell they wanted her quiet with just a quick scan of their thoughts.
Panic rising, Belle curled into a ball, shutting her eyes tightly. Around her, she heard glass shatter, metal things crash, and several heavy thuds. She wasn’t too sure what happened, and when she didn’t immediately feel anyone grabbing her, Belle hazarded a peek. The laboratory resembled a disaster area. All of the people who had been around her lay still on the ground. Glass, tools, and mystery liquids were strewn all over the floor. Belle blinked, not too sure what had just happened. But! This was her chance! Floating up off the examination table that she had been sitting on, Belle slowly and carefully floated over to the first door that she saw.
“It’s okay… stiff upper lip…”
Those words reassured her. They were a gift from her Uncle Kalabas. Eventually, Belle reached an elevator. She hit the button to go up and finally set herself down on the floor. Given a moment to collect herself, Belle could feel that big aura but also another familiar one that brightened her up. Mister Lord Chill! That was him! Wait… this other aura… it felt a lot like how Mister Vocado had felt that one time! But… she was pretty sure it wasn’t him. It felt different… like someone else. It was… familiar in a way too? She put a hand to her chest as she felt it tighten.
But… Belle didn’t want to hope for that. She didn’t want it to not be true. She didn’t want to get up there and be disappointed. She couldn’t… Mister Lord Chill was here. He had promised to come get her. She smiled weakly. Whatever was going on upstairs, she had to hurry to put a stop to it! Belle just knew it was bad. She couldn’t let Mister Lord Chill get hurt for her sake! Plus, her father might still be around. She didn’t see his aura anywhere but still! She couldn’t wait around. Belle glanced at the elevator buttons, willing the elevator to go faster.
Within moments of racing off to avoid whatever hazardous and sorrowful reaction Kalabas would have, Chill's scouter began to flicker and beep without end. The number tied to the indicator of Kalabas' last known position climbed higher, and higher, and higher. Chill wondered if it would stop. Chill became worried as it passed the 600,000 mark in less than a second, rising higher and higher in mere moments. Before he could see the total, the scouter strapped to his face flashed white before a loud bang echoed in his ear and a puff of smoke trailed behind his rapid form.
The building trembled at the power behind him, and Chill did not need time to consider what was happening. He knew, and his blood ran cold. Another Super Saiyan. ANOTHER SUPER SAIYAN. His heart swelled with fear, rage, confusion, intrigue, pride, and the swashing mix of emotions filled his core to the brim and nearly overflowed to the point he felt sick in his soul. But his fear was a second concern. The pain in Kalabas' heart was a second concern. Belle was where he was going, and it only took a moment to find the elevator shaft leading down to where he recalled her signature.
"BELLE!" Chill let out a mother's desperate cry, a plea that he may find her before the monster on his trail could bring her to harm accidentally. Frantic, he spotted the next elevator to reach the surface and as it clicked into position he didn't give the doors time to open. With one hand, he tore the metal and shoved it to the side, leaning in.
A wave of relief quickly followed by his heart leaping into his throat out of horror ran through him as his eyes met the scared, sickly, determined eyes of the girl he'd grown to love. "BELLE!" He shouted once more, moving in to embrace her, almost forgetting about the imminent danger. He clutched his scaled arms protectively around the back of her head, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry I took so long."
Taking a few inches back, Chill examined her condition in sorrow. "You poor thing... look what he's done to you..." She was frail, dehydrated and malnourished without doubt. He condition had not been cared for. She had been left to decay by that hateful man, and the thought of his name brought venom to his tongue. "Ch- your father. He's gone... and Kalabas. He's alive, and he's here. But he's not himself right now, and we need to go right now, okay?"
Chill couldn't sense Ki, but the pressure building in the air could only mean one thing. Kalabas would be here within moments. Without a word, Chill's body morphed into his True Form, and he held Belle's hand protectively and as tight as he could without hurting her.
Power… overwhelming... Rage, a beacon, a light! It would guide him, purify him with its golden flames! He would be born anew, stronger than ever before, stronger than anyone before! History would be made - he was history in the making, he was anger incarnate, justice, the saiyan race! In his mind the path to take was clear, glory and victory and above all else strife would follow him to death and beyond! His legend would be begin now, Chill would be nothing but one more body amongst foundations! Oh what price would the arcosian race pay for what they had done! And the namekians! And the humans! And any and all that foolishly refused to abide by the saiyan right of galactic hegemony during the reign of Zucceta! They would all pay for the affront, the insult, Earth and Namek and Arcose and its allies would all BURN! The queens of the past had failed! The Empire lived on, raged on, in Kalabas’ thoughts, his words and acts! And in so many others like him, the broken, the disillusioned, those worn by the cynicism fed of passivity, those brought down by their inherent lessers! Only he could undo their anti-natural desecration of the saiyan spirit, usher in a zenkai upon the heart of every saiyan! It was destiny, the reason for his birth, his training, his ascension! And Belle… little Belle… would have to become the epitome of all that was saiyan…
But first! Chill's death had to be planned, arranged, executed, carried out, enjoyed. Gone were the days that Kalabas dreamt of shy caresses and whispered sweet nothings. He wanted Chill to scream, to feel his flesh and innards contort and pulse and break in his hands. This was sadism, yes, but of the worst kind, for it had a reason. A child robbed of his father, a father robbed of a honorable death, a deserved death, a fitting judgement for the crimes he had committed! Had Chill known what he had just wrought, would he have spared Chard? Probably not. His love for Belle made him impossible to reason, it was a weakness prime for exploitation. The Director had done the same to Kalabas, so in the saiyan’s eyes this was retribution. Sweet, bloody, retribution.
The mad Duke sensed two signatures, and another one he sensed as his own. It was warm, imperious... MIGHTY! He could bask in it, loathe it, worship it! And there was so much more beyond it, calling for more power, more of this freeing and absolute wrath! For now, however… this lesser form would have to suffice. It was enough to defeat Chill, and worse...
Kalabas’ energy blurred into the background, reduced to that of an insect or dust speck or ember, he was as if invisible to Belle’s reading. Only his madness could be felt, and it was dark, desperate... but genuine - it was always there, the curse of the Strongbones, the Madness, it had merely come to reap its victim at his prime. The Duke prowled at a brisk pace, his gait and composure returned almost in full yet predatory, his glistening smile sharp and wanting to rend arcosian pink flesh. He walked through walls and pushed aside vats of liquid, the sound of his coming growing louder and louder until… there was an utter and deafening silence.
A dark presence entered the room where Chill and Belle stood. Sparks crackled all around it, a sickly warmth exuded from it, its dim light was not welcoming but purgatory. This wild, vicious, mad creature could only be the once noble and brave Kalabas, who else? "Belle..." he whispered from the shadows, his power returning, climbing up the thousands and above "Empathy for the enemy?" He echoed his uncle's words, climbing down the ceiling and landing right next to Chill, carving into his red eyes with his glassy teal gaze "I thought I taught you better."