An Amity Revived
Chapter Two
The deep ditch seemed to go on for an eternity, but the female was able to walk without ennui. For one thing, she was lost in thought, which was a rare event for her. Another reason was that the desolate planet caused many disasters tiny and large. Usually she would be used to the heat any planet produced, but her skin now had a sensitive touch. The warmth was overwhelming, and her pores spewed sweat out as a result.
The wind was no help to cool her down. In fact, if she had a choice between tolerating the heat or the wind, she would choose the heat. It was no different from what the other two males were experiencing; however, there was one exception. She was walking against the wind, not with it. It caused pain, but she was capable enough to withstand it. The tolerance was in her Saiya-jin blood and pride.
Despite her ambition to ignore the weather condition of Meatsei --her squinted eyes and the arm in front of them to shield it-- there was one pain that could not be prevented. Memories returned to her. A certain memory in particular was one that she would not want to remember.
Success. Easily finished. Mission completed. There was only a meager wave of satisfaction, for all four Saiya-jins thought the mission too easy. It didn't seem to matter with Celipa, however. She still displayed a Saiya-jin-ish pleased expression on her face. She was by herself, strolling around, observing the team's success. But she wasn't stupid; she knew that as a whole, perhaps even individually, they could take on inhabitants ten times stronger and more stubborn than these Meatsei-jin.
She was bored and yearned for home; thus, she didn't hesitate at all to blast off towards the north. The wind passed through her hair as she flew, and her face turned dreadfully serious. There was a question why, which she didn't know herself.
Quickly, she landed once her companions had been spotted. Her white boots made a tiny tapping noise as she did, as her toe came down first, the heel followed immediately. She was just in front of the other two, her back to them. For she also caught notice of four new people on the planet that bore threatening smirks upon their faces. It was a little too fishy for her taste.
"Celipa, hold your ground," Toma instructed from behind her. He sounded --to put it lightly-- very pissed off. She did not turn her head to look at him; with the tone of voice he used, she knew that this situation was too risky to take her eyes off of. "They killed Panboukin."
"They did?" She answered as she glared at the four with a nasty scowl. Yet, a tinge of hope gleamed in her eyes; maybe she would be able to get into a good and challenging fight, despite the other workers of Freeza's intent. "Those bastards."
It was audible enough for the four others to hear. A rumble came from them, one that hit the discomfort point of the Saiya-jins' nerves. Several taunts effortlessly escaped their lips, and made Celipa lower herself to prepare to attack. But she didn't. Not yet anyhow. She waited for the right moment to attack, which came two seconds later when she felt the rush of air from the two males when they sped past her. Wasting no time, she followed, and a massive fight began.
It ended once the group broke back into two: the non-Saiya-jin landed safely to their feet while the Saiya-jin crashed to their back, stomach, or side. The three Saiya-jin staggered to their feet, and dark red liquids escaped the imprisonment of their skin. Celipa's armor was broken, for a piece of the backside was torn apart from the rest of the armor. Her scouter had fallen to the ground with the lens cracked, but it was not visible to the aliens.
"Let's finish off one of them already," one of the assassins announced. He really meant to do it himself, however. Unfortunately, Celipa knew who his victim was once he outstretched his arm towards the Saiya-jin.
When a luminous light escaped from the palm of his hand, Celipa did not respond. She could not respond, for she was not given enough time. The blistering ray of light impacted into her torso, and threw her back into the Saiya-jin behind her.
He grabbed her once she crashed into him, and right then she knew immediately who it was. The gauntlets and the cerulean cloths underneath were enough to tell her. However, she only saw them for a split second, for she closed her eyes while the life drained from her body. Too soon could she only hear his voice: a voice of concern. She felt guilty to leave him the way she was. But there wasn't anymore time left for her to show any emotion, to think anything else, to say a single word. Her body sagged in his arms while his voice grew fainter and fainter along with the enemies' sneers.
Then she died.
"Damn it!"
Celipa clenched her fists in absolute anger and continued the drama as she dropped to her knees. Shortly afterwards, an infuriated fist made hard contact with the earth. All of a sudden, her other hand flew to the border of her clothing and the jagged armor. The sharp edges had stabbed her abdomen and chest. Blood trailed out and became a dark, crimson stain on her clothes and glove.
She looked down at her belly curiously; the anger seemed to have faded away at the little pain she felt. Her hand came off the new wound, but an index finger instantly replaced it. She tapped the cuts several times before it was joined with three other fingers as they lightly brushed the tiny wounds. She kept that up for a few more moments before she gripped the bottom edge of the armor. With the other hand grabbing the other side, she gracefully pulled the armor up and over her head. She threw it to the side against remains of a building. Much to her disappointment, it quickly broke into several pieces.
"Not very durable anymore," she murmured to herself, slowing shaking her head in disappointment.
She stood up and looked down at her knees. "For the looks," she muttered. She brought her leg up and twisted it vertically so that her ankle rested comfortably on her thigh. She carefully lifted the armored part of the knee guard and slid it down her leg and over her foot. She dropped it to the ground before doing the same with the other knee guard.
After the second guard made a hard, hollow knock with the other once it impacted each other, the yellow rag on her left leg fell to be in the same way the right cloth was, except a tad more visible. She sighed heavily, and knew that this was going to cause discomfort if she didn't do something. She sat on a nearby rock and quickly took off the cloths, for she didn't want to waste any more time than she already had.
What was she looking for?
Five minutes later, a tiny obstacle came in her the way of her hike. It was not moving, dangerous, or something that could be spotted ten feet away. It was a hard, shell-like object, yet extremely fragile from years of precipitation, wind, and stray dust floating from absolutely nowhere. The green painting was dirtied, and the color was faded. A gray piece of torn fabric was pinned down by the smoked white edge, surprisingly haven't been moved though the edge was so smooth. It just fluttered with the wind while it was caught.
Celipa's shadow was cast over it, as if she was preparing to strike. Her form showed it well; hands placed firmly on her hips while her legs were only a shoulder's width apart. Her toes were pointed slightly in opposite directions, facing away from her body. Her head was hung down, gaping at the shred of armor that was placed in front of her.
She cautiously knelt, her body supported only by the balls of her feet. One hand rested across her thighs, the other out while it lightly tapped the titanium material. She grabbed the other end of it, which had sharp edges from that particular edge having been chopped off. It was not as sharp as her armor had been, so her skin wasn't pricked by the damaged armor. She lifted the armor from the ground and stood.
The piece of cloth clung to the hard metal merely by a single strand. When she placed her hand over it, her thumb underneath, it detached instantly. It lay limp in her left hand; for a long while she did nothing but stare, letting her eyes be directed from one object to the other.
Suddenly, a hand came out and snatched the yellow rags she had underneath her arms. It roughly slid out of her grasp, and her skin burned a little from the friction. She twisted her head as far as she could --which wasn't very far if one were to think about it-- and there stood Panboukin with a self-satisfied smirk. He was clutching the old cloths in his left hand. His eyes dared her to try to grab them back, but she knew exactly how to do it without looking like a fool.
Bringing her entire body around to face him, she tucked the piece of armor and the gray fabric underneath her arm. She put her right hand up in front of her, her palm faced the sky while fingers curled with a two centimeter space between each. She then put on her most serious expression, showing no signs of amusement anywhere in her eyes. His smirk was wiped off immediately; he handed her leggings back.
"You're no fun," he complained once they were back in her hands safely. She curled her fingers around them before dropping her arm to her side.
"If you want fun, I can give it to you," she snapped in return. "Whether you want it or not."
"Since when did I not want any fun?"
Before she could answer, Totepo descended beside the other male. He wore his well-known lack of expression. She lifted a corner of her mouth up slightly, quite pleased that there was another resurrected. However, the smirk dispersed once she noticed that there was one missing, when no one followed Totepo, and no one in the distance. "Where's Toma?"
Panboukin shrugged as if it were an everyday occurrence. "He's still dead. And he's not coming back, that's for sure." Automatically switching to a different subject, he quickly took notice of the materials underneath the female's arm. "What do you got there?"
"Something quite interesting I found," she answered. For one split second, she felt distraught with the knowledge that a close companion of hers was not going to be revived. Then she went back to her regular self as she handed the objects to either one of them. Panboukin jerked both of them away, and surveyed each intently. "Look familiar to you?"
He stared up back at her, his joking eyes vanished. His pupils darted to Totepo before he sidestepped, so both of them could see him well, and so he could eye both of them. Thrusting the hand with the armor and fabric in front of Totepo, he announced with a very bemused tone of voice, "I--it's impossible. It can't be-"
Totepo only had to look at the objects to understand. With his expressionless face, he said the simple word that they were thinking. No, not word. Name. "Bardock."