1417/A Horror Emerges

A Horror Emerges
Date of Scene:	25 January 2015
Location:	Earth-4555 <DBZ>
Synopsis:	Cell appears on Earth-4555. Serori believes him to be her old friend, until he proves he's nothing more than a monster...
Cast of Characters:	37, 663, 696

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Serori (37) has posed:
Earth-4555. Not an absolute idyll all the time, but still a pretty nice place, especially compared to some Multiversal stinkers. The people are generally good-hearted, the likelihood of war breaking out is minimal, everyone seems to want the same thing -- having to tolerate road rage, small crimes, and the occasional alien invasion isn't too hefty a price to pay whenever things are otherwise so pleasant. Even Serori, thanks to her associations with Son Gohan, has developed a fondness for the world and its people. Thanks to her Dragon Ball hunt, her fondness has deepened, as scouring the planet for those mystic relics has taken her to sights she never imagined existed.

Today, however, she's not exactly enjoying the task. The thunderstorm she's flying under is pervasive and growly, and makes it hard to see or hear anything to its usual clarity. Having to go slower than usual to check out various coordinates for hidden Dragon Balls has left her at the storm's mercy, too: she's drenched to the bone, and a bit cranky after a close call with a lightning bolt.

Serori flies low over open farmland, headed toward the next location on her list. She's mostly focused on her scouter's readings.

Cell (696) has posed:
     Earth-4555. A monument to failure and compromise. A monolith erected by the sins and weaknesses of the human race. Though the scars of war may not be cast across it like so many other places in the vast Multiverse, the 'good hearts' of the people that led to total surrender still remain. Stinking cowards, weaklings, they bury their head in the sand if they need to tolerate anything more than road rage, small crimes, and invasions to be solved by *other people*.

     It is a mindset of pitiful weakness. It is the mindset of a failed race that surrendered up its destiny rather than fight for its rght to exist. By all the rights of nature, humankind should've been wiped away when the Saiyans came. By all the rules of evolution, Earthlings shouldn't still exist.

     And yet they do. And that mistake - that tiny mistake, that /tiny/ error in the grand scheme of things - is what the monster that wears the name 'Commander Green' intends to exploit to the fullest.

     But today he has other things on his mind.

     The horrific commander of the Red Ribbon Regiment tends to...keep an eye on things, so to speak. It's easier to avoid Saiyans when he knows where they're moving. It's easier to keep tabs on Saiyan movements when you have people regularly looking up at the sky, particularly in the big, deserted farmlands people tend to love having dramatic kung-fu fights in. While he doesn't actually track the Saiyans personally, it's not really hard to have a few people on 'Saiyanwatch' in obvious danger areas.

     This happens to be one of them. Somewhere deep under this big, roiling farmland is a Red Ribbon Regiment base. It's deep underground, disguised by multiple layers of security and an old man with a shotgun and a cow, but it's out there. So when Serori passes into the 'danger zone', a silent alert is sent down over the Red Ribbon Regiment's private frequency. Saiyanwatch operatives push down their farmhats and get in their tractors, moving away from the area.

     Meanwhile, Commander Green stalks through the layers of the base. Shouting orders every which way, he prepares for an evacuation. He makes certain vital projects are loaded onto hidden vehicles, vital personnel are evacuated, and vital weapons are kept secret. Beside him walks Android 16, his closest friend, his oldest confidante, and his right-hand man.

     "A query," the big Android observes.

     "Make it," Cell says as they enter the lift, folding his hands behind his back. The lift closes with a 'bing' and starts sweeping upwards.

     "Do you intend to reveal our existence to the Saiyans?"

     Cell cocks his massive head to the side as if in thought. "Do you think I should?"

     "I think that they will find out one way or another soon enough, and that we have the element of surprise." Android 16 replies. "I also think it is likely that they have allies in the Syndicate who will inform them of our existence, so we should exploit the element of surprise immediately."

     "A compelling point," Cell replies, stroking his mandible. His tail swings back and forth in the crowded lift. "But if they imagine it to be nothing more than a mercenary organization-"

     "-then they will not react with any meaningful force," Android 16 finishes the thought for him, "Additionally, if they are familiar with other iterations of you from the Multiverse-"

     "They'll assume I'm after 17 and 18," Cell hisses delightedly. "This is why we're friends."

     "Yes," Android 16 agrees, "That, and because we were programmed by the same creator, and because we work for the same organization, and because we have a common goal, and because-"

     Cell lets out an uproarious laugh, like a hundred cicadas buzzing, as the door opens. "Guard the evacuation. I'm going to go stretch my legs."

     16 steps out of the door and presses his hand over the Red Ribbon Symbol on his chest. Cell nods as the door slams shut and looks up. Oh yes.

     It was time to stretch his legs.

Cell (696) has posed:
     The lift opens in the midst of a grove, disguised as a tree. Cell discards his Red Ribbon uniform with a thought, tossing it back into the lift, and crouches down. He throws away the mind of 'Commander Green', the brilliant general of the Red Ribbon Regiment, and regresses back to the primal, the primordial terror that he represented - the /apex predator/. For that was what he was, without any doubt. He was a predator.

     The Saiyans were his prey.

     Then he vanishes. Moving faster than the eye can track, he soars into the air, directly into the thunderstorm behind Serori. He follows behind her, ignoring and uncaring of the drenching cold and the lightning and the fundamental forces roaring around him. There is only Cell and his prey. There is only the absolute moment.

     Then the lightning strikes, and with it, Cell drops. He drops for her back, his legs coiled tight, ready to apply immense weight and power to her body to get the drop on her. Like a scorpion, his tail rises.

     If he had lips, he would lick them as he fell.

     As he *pounced*.

Serori (37) has posed:
The one significant drawback to operating on Earth-4555 in any Confederate capacity is the planet's status as a Union affiliate. At one time owned by the Confederacy thanks to Vegeta's rulership, Earth had changed hands whenever Raditz stole Vegeta's throne. The affiliation was further cemented by Mister Satan's temporary but highly publicized service as a Union operative, and more recently by Serori's assault on Capsule Corporation, a peaceful, civilian-owned asset.

Host of the World Martial Arts Tournament, this planet had enjoyed relative calm in the last few years, with the Multiverse seldom knocking on anyone's doors. Serori's attack had changed that fact, and left the natives fearing Confederate violence. Her actions had also prompted the Union to become more protective. Union scouts had started monitoring the world for Confederate activity. It was they who'd alerted Raditz and his friends to Serori's actions out in the Gizard Wasteland, and they who'd alert the Union again, if not for certain precautionary measures on her part. Keeping a low profile meant keeping alert to potential risks, disguising the true range of her ki signature, and doing nothing terribly stupid.

She had been watching for the Union; she hadn't been looking for any other threats.

Cell's powerful pounce drives into the small of her back. A choked cry of alarm is startled from Serori, and a loud crunch from her breastplate. His feet leave a deep imprint in her armor.

The ground is rushing toward her at an uncontrolled speed. Serori, flinching in pain, turns her head to regard her attacker over her shoulder.

Shock snaps her eyes open wide.

FLASHBACK.

"This is not a simple technique. It will take time and patience to master. But you already have some of the requisite skills, so I'm fairly certain you can do it." Cell folds his arms over his chest and gives Serori an appraising stare. "Are you ready to learn, Serori?"

Serori had answered by smirking at her friend. "Of course I am. And I'll surprise you; I'll master the move in no time. So, show me!"

Cell had only chuckled at her eager energy, smiling a tolerant smile. "Very well. If you're so confident...pay attention!"

END OF FLASHBACK.

Serori presses two fingertips to her forehead, right between her brows. The wind resistance generated by her falling speed makes even this small gesture a challenge, but she manages, and manages to close her eyes, too -- and to focus through the pain.

An instant before she hits the ground, she vanishes from under Cell's feet.

She appears above him, angry and confused -- but not attacking. "What the hell?! Is this how you say hello after you've been gone for so long?!" Serori's fists cock before her body in a defensive posture.

Oh, now /there's/ a mistake Cell may not have anticipated...

Cell (696) has posed:
     And there it was, just as Android 16 had predicted. The Saiyans were expecting a different Cell. They were expecting a Cell they were familiar with, maybe even friendly with. They had some idea of what they were in for - though perhaps only in the broadest, most basic strokes. He knew his own tendencies. He could imagine what he would be like on a world where Son Goku lived, or where the Saiyans hadn't won - which was basically the same thing, when you got right down to it. He'd spent a lot of time analyzing it. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, once he'd become aware of the Multiverse at large. Once the Red Ribbon Regiment had started observing the world, with information flowing in, Cell and 16 had taken great care to examine and observe and debate. They had to be ready to handle any eventuality, after all.

     The teleportation was, in fact, more unexpected than anything else. Cell hits the ground with a cracking sound, his three-toed feet forcing the ground away from him as he lands in a crouch. Water explodes around him, kicking up like a wave from the sheer force of his landing. For a moment, he looks like all the world for the monstrous cicada he once resembled; down on all fours, his tail and muscles tensed, he watches Serori closely, as if in thought. However she had done that, it posed a threat. Could Vegeta do it? Could the others? If they could, he should be able to as well - but he didn't have the power of Instant Transmission, so it was highly unlikely that it was just a Saiyan trait. An individual one, then. Maybe something Vegeta had, too. Maybe not.

     Worth finding out about.

     "How else should I be greeting you?" Cell's voice is like something with too many legs and too many wings crawling around in your clothes trying to talk, but there's a smoothness to it that makes it seem natural, if...ooky. He straightens to his full height, eyes still on the Saiyan. "Wouldn't you be *insulted* if I didn't test your strength? If I simply...walked up to you and said /hello/?"

     "That doesn't seem very *worthy* of you."

     Cell folds his hands behind his back and watches her, his horrible eyes locked on hers. Rain drips down his body in unnatural formations, spilling down his back as it fills the crater in the earth around him. He only really needed to buy time until the base was properly evacuated and collapsed, of course, but if he could *learn* something out of this...either about the Saiyans, or his other selves...well, he'd be a damned fool to throw the opportunity away.

Serori (37) has posed:
A prideful /hmph/ is his response; Serori pushes a wet tangle of wild hair from her face, and as if doing so also peeled away her outer layer, her expression shifts at the same time, all anger replaced by a wicked smirk. Amusement is further reflected by the flick at the end of her tail. "Saa. I suppose I should thank you for the trial, then. It's been a long time since you've last tested me in direct combat. I've missed the lessons."

Subtle changes in her voice and manner may be more difficult for something as inhuman as Cell to recognize, but perhaps he's apt enough to notice her warmth, and the minute relaxation of her guard. Whatever else he'd been, the Cell Serori had known had at least been her friend, that much is apparent. So -- a Confederate for sure, but what else? Had the Red Ribbon Regiment gone back to review old footage from the WMAT to see this other Cell in action, or had they not done the research?

"Let me give you a proper 'welcome back', then." Serori's tail snaps into position around her waist, and her gloved fists tighten, leather creaking as it stretches across her tensed-up knuckles. "And you can tell me where you've been...and why you don't look like yourself."

Laughing, she comes at him in a rush, her body becoming a blur of half-seen movement. Raindrops fly away from her in all directions as she looses an onslaught of punches and kicks, her strikes almost impossible to track. Speed's always been her thing, and she gives him her best right away, refusing him nothing she feels he deserves.

Cell (696) has posed:
     Saiyan anger is obvious, especially for someone with Saiyan DNA. Cell may not have spent much time around the Saiyans, but he watched them. So when Serori relaxes and confirms his suspicions - their association from another universe, that they had some sort of personal history together, that she had gotten *lessons* from him (/lessons/? Cell can hardly imagine being wlling to teach a monkey anything. He must've been very different.) - well, it helps. The little cues may not be as easy for him to pick up on, but he knew the way of the words.

     But then she comes in like a lightning bolt, and Cell goes silent. His every sense is focused on her strikes - flying between the raindrops, she's faster than he could've expected. She's much faster than he could've expected. Each strike is like a jackhammer, and it literally takes all his attention to parry them with his big, terrible, inhuman hands. At one point he's even forced to bring his feet into the parry, and then his *tail*, using every limb at his disposal to protect himself from her onslaught.

     He hops backwards in the middle of a strike, flicking some water off of his face. "Good. Even faster than I could've anticipated. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed."

     Then he lunges right back in. It wasn't about /speed/ with Cell - it was about range and rhythm, controlling the flow of battle. Serori was fast enough that, without breaking the flow, he couldn't quite get his own rhythm going. But once he does, the difference between himself and Serori is obvious - Cell exploits range like a master. He stays just out of her reach as his arms and legs extend to strike at her in a flurry of blows, equal parts defensive and offensive. If Cell keeps her away, after all, she can only counterattack his arms, and if she's familiar with him, as she's already noted, she knows that attacking his arms won't do much to slow him down.

     Lightning crashes behind them as Cell speaks. "Dead," he hisses, some artificial anger leaking into his voice, "Or as close as I've ever come. Everything was broken. I spent too long pulling myself back together. I still don't think I'm done."

     "It's like I'm missing something," he hisses through a particularly brutal strike, "Like something's vanished from my mind that I can't quite put my finger on. Something /stolen/ from me."

     The Red Ribbon Regiment hadn't paid too much attention to the World Martial Arts Tournament, but now? Hah. As soon as Cell got back to base they'd be pulling the footage off the internet and from old TV stations for sure. This was too good to pass up.

     "Do you know what that's like?" Cell demands over a roundhouse kick, "Can you imagine what it's like to know, to just /know/, that something's missing from your innermost self? Something's /gone/ from your body, from your mind, and you can't even identify what it is? If I ever find out how,"

     A sudden blast of energy rips out of Cell's eyes - one of Frieza's old techniques he'd inherited from that disembodied head mounted on Vegeta's wall.

     "I'll tear the one responsible to /pieces/."

Serori (37) has posed:
Agility, speed, and a precise, controlled grace -- these are the assets Serori honed in her training as a scout, and these continue to form the backbone of her combative style even after she attained Super Saiyan and began to rely more on her body's strength. /Range/ is one of her definite weaknesses. Like Vegeta, she's not the tallest of her species. In fact, she's probably one of the shortest. Standing only a little over five feet in height, even an Imperfect Cell has no trouble exceeding her arms and legs. At least she's got that quickness to keep her mostly safe as he lunges in to lead the fight's rhythm and direction.

/Mostly/ safe. Serori's able to catch or deflect his fists, but she's got to rely on dodging to keep ahead, and as tactical as he is in his approach, more than once she's herded into a direct landing. He buckles her over his fist -- further breaking her chestplate -- and drives her back and down as she, briefly stunned, eats two jarring kicks. Finally, she rockets herself backwards in an attempt to escape his reach, only to put herself right in the path of his eye beams.

A desperate midair corkscrew saves her from more than a glancing scorch.

Serori finishes the twisting maneuver. Growling, she retaliates with her own hasty energy beam, two broad cannons fired from each palm winding around one another to form a single immense beam. It's a short-lived attack, meant more to cover her movements than anything else. Underneath its glare, she zips into a new position level with him but many yards away.

There, she braces herself.

The rain blasts away from her body in response to a powerful unseen shockwave as she abruptly snaps into the Super Saiyan form. Shining green eyes and golden hair surrounded by an aura so potent the rain hisses into little puffs of steam on contact -- it's the absolute expression of saiyan power.

She couldn't possibly know how much he must hate such things.

"I've lost my tail twice. Losing it is like losing a part of my essence. It feels like I am no longer complete...so in some way, I guess I understand. But if you've lost the ability to reach your Perfect form -- huh. We'll have to do something about that."

"There /is/ an Eighteen working with the Union..."

She grins over at him, broadly and with mischief. "Maybe we can pay her a visit together. Vegeta has a Seventeen and Eighteen, too, but you won't be allowed to absorb /them/. They're part of his army, now. Oh -- oh, you've been gone. Vegeta's come back. He's less of a dick these days." She reaches up to scratch the bridge of her nose as she considers how to put it. "A-ah...he beat up Raditz and reclaimed his title...he wants me to be his queen. Since he's less crazy, I've been considering it."

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell understands well why the human race surrendered. An ordinary human against one of these.../creatures/...would be obliterated. They wouldn't stand a /chance/. They'd be butchered, murdered, without any outside expertise or advancement. But in Cell's mind, that was exactly what they should've done. They should've thrown themselves at these creatures - these martial artists from the stars who assume so carelessly that they own the world, these beasts who become apes. They should've died in *droves* to protect their species' right to exist - died in droves to allow those who could come up with countermeasures to do so. If Cell had been finished during the Saiyan Wars, it would've been a wholly different story.

     Serori corkscrews, demonstrating her superior agility. She fires covering fire to protect her from counterattack, and - based on her power and the direction of the shot - Cell is forced to take the hit directly in the face. To do otherwise might've meant it burrowng into the hill where his elevator was buried. The direct shot was more...effective at blocking it than attempting a beam war, or accidentally redirecting it into the ground.

     Cell tilts his head forward. Part of his horrifying face was burned off, but that's alright. He cracks his neck slightly and directs his ki into his cells, and Serori is treated to the...well, the /horrifying/ sight of Cell's face rebuilding itself. From blackened flesh and a missing eye, tendrils of flesh splurt out and wrap around each other like thread sewing itself back together. The flesh rebuilds itself in an instant, and his head slides forward as he cracks his neck back to normal. The horrible mandibles open, as though he's working his jaw, and he folds his hands behind his back. "That was a good hit."

     And then she lights up the field with Super Saiyan mode. The rain splits away from her as though in fear. The water sheds off her aura with physical presence and physical power. Cell cracks his knuckles as he observes it. "So you've come that far, huh," he notes dispassionately, and it's a testament to how much /better/ he is than he once was that he doesn't just leap at her and try to tear out her throat. Because Serori may not realize it, but Cell's hatred for that - for what that embodies, for what it is, for what it /demonstrates/ - surpasses even Vegeta's rage. And it takes a whole hell of a lot to surpass Vegeta's rage.

     Cell drops his fighting stance and shakes his head, sending water flying everywhere. "Super Saiyans are popping up everywhere these days," he shrugs and laughs, that up-the-spine-tingling buzzing-bug laugh of his as he strolls over to her. "I've seen enough. I'm impressed. You were on an errand, though, weren't you? I don't want to delay you any further, not in this weather." He looks up at the sky and scowls at it, as if his scowl might make the weather go away.

     Technically, if he put enough force into it, he probably *could*, but that would just be showing off, and he wasn't about to show off for a monkey unless he was trying to scare her. And Serori was currently more useful to him alive.

     "His queen, huh," Cell offers distantly, looking off in the direction she'd been flying. He hops up into the air, his big wings spreading; they fill the field with a horrible buzzing sound. "Let's fly and talk. You can tell me *all* about this Eighteen in the Union and all this other stuff on the way to your errand, can't you?"

Serori (37) has posed:
The sound Serori makes is one of distinct but restrained disappointment. "Oh, already? I was hoping to see how well we matched up. You in /that/ form, me in mine...we might be more equal. At least, if I'm remembering it right." She beams at him before letting out a short bark of laughter. "You'd probably kick my ass from here to Papaya Island, if I still couldn't hit Super Saiyan! Aah, I guess there's plenty of time for that. Once you rejoin the Confederacy, we can train like we used to. The gravity facility has been improved, and the Field of Trials remains impressive."

A bit of energy is wasted in another pair of golden-hued corkscrews as Serori starts to fly off at a relaxed pace, leading the way to where she hopes to find a Dragon Ball. Midway through the second twist, she drops her transformation, and all her radiance fades away, leaving her dried body and hair once more vulnerable to the stormy elements. She cocks an eye at the sky and sighs. "What a day to be looking for Dragon Balls."

"So!" Again, she looks at him, wearing her cheerful, open smile -- so atypical for what one would imagine when picturing a Confederate Colonel. "You asked about this other Eighteen. I only know a little about her. She showed up whenever we went looking for the second Dragon Ball in the Gizard Wasteland. I only /think/ she's got Union ties, as nothing's been confirmed as yet, but she seems to have inclinations toward their way of thinking. At least, she wasn't helping /us/ in getting the Dragon Ball."

She makes a thoughtful sound before continuing. "I suppose if you join me in hunting for the Dragon Balls, you'd run into her eventually. Or you could probably just call her out. I doubt she has the sense to keep away...mmn, but Vegeta's Eighteen did say she seemed a little older, so maybe she's wise to your needs."

"As for Vegeta -- he came back from the Void with a saiyan army at his side. He's been steadily laying the foundation for our new empire, but he still refuses to call himself King. He's changed so much, though -- even has Raditz and Taylita considering an alliance -- even has Gohan willing to work under him, to /some/ extent." Serori pulls a face. "I've been reluctant about the whole thing, but it's starting to make more sense, and I've missed the company of other saiyans. If we can work together, we can become something /really/ scary." Her grin is teasing. "As if we're not already."

Slowing, she comes to a halt over a patch of thick woods. She pokes her scouter a couple of times, and frowns down at the ground. "Well, there might be something here. The Dragon Radar we have isn't very precise." She drops, beckoning him after her with a wave.

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell is aware that the best way to deceive someone is silence. The fact that he has nothing that can be properly called a *smile*, nor can his facial features easily be interpreted by things that aren't horrible bug-monsters, makes his life much easier. So when Serori starts going off on him rejoining the Confederacy, Cell just hovers behind her.

     "Later," he assures her, "We'll see how we match up when you aren't on an errand." Boy howdy.

     Despite being primarily powered by wings, Cell keeps up with Serori perfectly well. The buzzing noise that fills the air is only slightly loud and irritating, and he could presumably fly just fine without it if he wanted to, but it's keeping him dry and that's worth something to the biomonster. He doesn't like water. He's not *weak* to it, but hey, he's got some human trais, too. Animals don't like being wet. Basic facts of life.

     "Well, if she wasn't helping you, then you won't care if absorb her," Cell observes placidly as they fly, "But if she knows what I want, then it might be.../dangerous/." He would probably purse his lips if he had any. Instead, there's a quiet, low whistle - not high-pitched enough to bother him - from between his mandibles. It blends with the buzzing of his wings quite well. Beyond that, though, he's silent as he listens to her talk, forcing his muscles not to betray his irritation. /Become something scary/. /Work together with other Saiyans/.

     The words rattle around in his head as precious information. /Taylita/. /Gohan/. /Raditz/. Names to remember. Saiyans to know. Saiyans to kill and eat later, or maybe just *torture* until their tiny little monkey spines broke under his feet. Oh, how he'd relish that.

     As they fly, he glances downwards every so often, watching for any telltale signs of the Red Ribbon Regiment's evacuation. Once they're past the designated 'danger zone', however, he stops, instead flying over closer to Serori. Once they're clear of the area he doesn't particularly care what happens. Now that he knew she wasn't hunting a Red Ribbon base, moreover, he didn't have any reason to hold back. So now it was just a matter of waiting until the moment was right.

     After all, he couldn't keep up this charade forever.

     But the longer he *could* keep it up, the more he could learn from her. It was just a matter of finding out the important questions.

     "Dragon Balls don't have much meaning to me," Cell agrees as they fly over the countryside, "So I don't particularly mind letting you know if I find one - especially if it brings me an Eighteen. What are you hoping to get out of it, anyway? What does the future Queen of all Saiyans want?" He snickers, like he made a playful jest. It sounds like a chorus of cicadas run through a noise canceller, but it probably almost sounds /friendly/. Teasing.

     Cell was very good at telling people what they wanted to hear, after all. If he wasn't...he wouldn't've lasted nearly this long as 'Commander Green'.

Serori (37) has posed:
No disgust, no fear, no unease. No matter the sounds he makes or the tone of his voice or how grotesque his regeneration from damage, Serori fails to flinch. It's a testament to how deep she perceives their friendship to run. His laughter elicits a crooked smile in response. Landing among the trees, she doesn't even watch her back. "Hnh. Pretty unremarkable. So far, we've found Dragon Balls in strange places. A dinosaur's nest, some old Red Ribbon lab up in Yunzabit -- oh! I should tell you about that."

She's prowling around, kicking through leaves and looking under rocks. "As for my wish...I'll tell you after you rejoin the Confederacy." Meeting his gaze, she says quite seriously: "There has to be some incentive for joining up again besides my company." Then she winks, and laughs, and kicks a fallen log a good twenty feet away so she can inspect what lies underneath it.

Mostly skittery bugs and stuff.

She scoops up a horned beetle and squints at it. "One of your cousins?" she grins up at him, before ducking away in playful fear of his retribution.

"The lab we found contained some remnants of additional cyborg experiments. You were mentioned by name, though there wasn't any sign of you, so if my world /has/ produced a version of you, well...you're long gone or in hiding, or pupating somewhere. The implication that the Red Ribbon Army is still active is a bit more concerning, I guess. If they're around, though -- Vegeta should have heard something about them, or Raditz..."

She shrugs, straightens up, and pokes at her scouter. "I don't think we're going to find anything here. There's no sign of any impact, for one. Want to join me for another quick flight?"

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell can't keep the surprise off his...horrid face. His, erm.../ridges/...go upwards as his eyes widen at the mention of the old Red Ribbon lab up in Yunzabit. He hadn't *known* about a Red Ribbon lab up in Yunzabit. That's...that's much more pressing to him than her lack of fear, although to some degree that bothered him too. How much had the other Cell told her? How much did the Confederacy know of his strengths, of his weaknesses? How much did they know about his powers? Did they know *everything*? Did they know his tolerance, his ability to come back from the absolute brink? The thoughts war in his mind, dancing alongside his concern over the Yunzabit base. Who had been stationed there? What had they gotten? What did they *know*? Metioned by name. Tch.

     It was a good thing he had her to answer his myriad questions. It was convenient that the Saiyan had come this far.

     He forces another cicada laugh at the horned-beetle joke and swings lightly with his tail. /Playfully/. The blunt part, of course, and intentionally wide over his head. "I hate my family," he jokes, "They're not nearly as good-looking."

     "So this world's version of me was mentioned by name, huh," he observes, stroking his mandible thoughtfully, "I wonder what would happen if I ate myself. Think I'd skip to completion? Or would it just be a lot of deja vu? I suppose I ought to go find out," He sneers, then shifts to a frown almost on cue - a thoughtful, worried-looking frown. Well.

     Okay, he can't really /frown/, but it's as close as Cell can get.

     "Lay on," he replies, spreading his terrible bug wings again, "I wonder if they'll even be able to pose a threat. What did you find in Yunzabit that makes you so worried about some pitiful humans?"

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori skips off the ground and proceeds west. Already, her hair is about plastered to her skin by the deluge, though flying fast keeps things from getting unbearable. "Oh, we found a prototype android in the lab...powered by a Dragon Ball. Nothing in the lab provided specifics as to how the feat had been accomplished, which suggests it was sort of a /lucky/ discovery. The android was powerful, though, even as incomplete as it was. If it'd been finished, it could have been a major threat to all of us who'd gone there. The lab's been abandoned for a few years, at this point. Chances are good the research was taken underground after Vegeta rose to power. Does the name 'Doctor Ranta' ring a bell? He was behind this pursuit of Gero's accomplishments."

The droning buzz caused by his wings is drowned out by a passing thunderclap. Serori drops down a couple of feet out of simple startlement, then rights herself after giving the clouds a mean look. "The old Red Ribbon Army had a lot of cleared-out bases in Yunzabit. They've been abandoned for a very, very long time, since Son Goku was much younger. For this lab to have more recent activity suggests someone -- this Ranta, maybe -- was trying to revitalize their movement. Maybe he took issue with Vegeta being the King of Earth. Maybe he was looking for a weapon that would not only kill Vegeta, but /keep/ him killed."

Smallish mountains are fast approaching; Serori points them out. "I'm headed there. Digging around here may take awhile. It's my last stop for today; I'm starting to get tired of flying around this planet." She angles into a descent, leading the way to the nearest cliffs. Ravines crack the cliffs apart into distinct sections. Each separation is narrow, but also deep and dark. Serori stops outside the first and sighs. "This is a real pain. The wish had better be worth it."

Cell (696) has posed:
     "Dr. Ranta, huh," Cell's rattling voice hisses thoughtfully, "No, I can't say that it does." But anyone with that sort of android technology around who could build something that could threaten the Saiyans, /and/ was linked to the Red Ribbon Army...that was of *interest* to Cell. That was probably the most interesting thing she's said all day. The thunderclap goes ignored - it's not high-pitched enough to trigger his hearing, but it does make his head ring loudly, so he squashes it down under his other thoughts as they fly. Ranta. *Ranta*. A weapon that could kill Vegeta. Ranta. Dr. Ranta. Dr. Ranta.

     Cell needed to meet this Dr. Ranta. No...he needed to secure this Dr. Ranta. He needed to scour this Dr. Ranta's mind, drink him dry of knowledge and tricks, and then eat him. He needed to make sure *nobody* got their hands on a man who had that kind of knowledge, most importantly of all the Saiyans. And then he needed to turn that knowledge to the Red Ribbon Regiment.

     And then...

     Then he'd find out how loud the Saiyan King could scream.

     He's barely paying attention to her as they drop down onto the cliff. Serori is a distant third in his mind as he touches down, folding his wings up under his carapace. "It sounds to me like you don't really want whatever it is you're wishing for," Cell's offers clinically as they look at the crack. He hunkers down a bit, taking his more natural predatorial stance.

     "What happens if it isn't worth it? What will you do then, hmmm?"

Serori (37) has posed:
How quiet she becomes at his question. Crouching before the cliff, squinting into the shadows, Serori adopts a hard, determined frown. "Of course I want it. Of course it's worth the effort. I'll complain about the hunt today, but my focus isn't slipping. I'm not going to let these Dragon Balls get away from me." Lashing away from its coiled position around her waist, Serori's tail punctuates the growling words by giving an irritated, whip-like snap. "The Union already /has/ one of them. The pressure is on for me to find the rest before they gain any additional advantage."

Finding the Dragon Balls had been difficult. The Dragon Radar was unreliable, pointing to hundreds of potential locations, and each spot required manual time and effort to search. Several pings pointed to city interiors, too, which meant Dragon Balls could be in civilian hands, or lost inside civilization. To send Confederate forces into either of those locations would be a major risk.

"I need one wish for myself. That's it. The second wish will be given to either Gohan or Vegeta -- whoever requires it more. I had thought I might save a wish for the Confederacy, too, but then I wouldn't know who would deserve it, and I wouldn't want to give it away recklessly. Maybe I'll give it to Taylita, if I am feeling generous."

"C'mon." Hopping off the cliff edge, she plunges into the darkness without fear. A small light on the side of her scouter pushes back the shadows at the press of a button. It turns with Serori's head, sweeping this way and that. "It's cramped, can you even fly down here?"

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell seems entertained by her reaction. Of course he was. An angry Saiyan was fun for him. It was worth poking and prodding her a bit. It was worth silly questions like that. Besides, more importantly, he now knew something that the Union didn't - that Serori only had one wish, and who her beneficiaries were otherwise. That was worth something. He might be able to buy some goodwill. Or a favor. Or something of equal worth.

     He'd radio them later.

     Cell hops down with her, keeping himself afloat with raw ki rather than his wings. He gives her a look as they land, but the light passes away from his face, so she likely doesn't see it. In the deep, terrible darkness, Cell was just waiting until they got far enough away from the entrance. This...*this* was an opportunity. This was an important opportunity. He might be able to /do/ something with these cramped surroundings. He was more at home here than Serori could ever be. And he could keep right behind her with his nose. She trusted him.

     She.../trusted/ him.

     It was sort of odd. She legitimately trusted him. She hadn't asked him anything. She'd just...assumed that he was her old friend Cell. That they were friends. She'd *joked* with him. She'd.../teased/ him. As they slip into the darkness where predators dwell best, Cell's mind is split three ways.

     One part of his genius is focused on Dr. Ranta. He's running through Red Ribbon Army information the Regiment had brought or collected. He's dashing through thoughts, trying to figure out who, where, and what bases there could be that he hadn't found. Yunzabit was just one of many, and it was older than Son Goku, so it's unlikely Ranta had access to any of the more advanced bases the Regiment had established. Maybe he was in the old Tower, or Gero's original laboratory - the one without the supercomputer, since Cell had removed the computer and destroyed the lab. It was a big world. If Ranta had Dragon Balls, the easiest way to find him would be to swallow his pride and stick with the Saiyans - but that would put him out of contact with the Regiment, and that might lead to real problems.

     The second part of his mind mulls over the Saiyans. How many of them were there now? How many delicious morsels could he be preying on if he started *properly* hunting the PTO? Cell had eaten human, Saiyan, and other many times, but Saiyans were the strongest. Each Saiyan was worth a city of humans. They satisfied his hunger even without Super Saiyan strength.

     The third part of his mind is focused on this little Saiyan girl in front of him. She was friends with him. He hadn't really ever had a /friend/ before, except Android Sixteen - and Sixteen was more of a brother to him than a friend, a partner and comrade. She wasn't related to him, she wasn't Red Ribbon Army, but she liked him. No! She was their *enemy* and yet she liked him. That was so strange.

     Unfortunately for her, it was strange in away that was useful to him. Friendship would be easy to come by once his own goals were complete.

     "So if you're so afraid of this Dr. Ranta and his Red Ribbon Army, what are you going to do about it?" Cell asks finally, since he doesn't have much else to say on the subject of Wishes. He never cared about Wishes. Wishes were for people who weren't already damn near immortal.

Serori (37) has posed:
"Hm? It's not so much that I'm /afraid/ of him, or what he can create. The mystery perturbs me, especially since he might somehow still be working and creating additional androids somehow. I also have some concern over who and what might be funding him. On the surface, this world is pretty much at peace, so characters like Doctor Ranta stand out as a pretty extreme aberration. Vegeta had...crushed or otherwise controlled all the detractors he knew about, so it's even more strange that Doctor Ranta's mentioned nowhere in the PTO's databanks. If he /had/ been deliberately eradicated, it would have been logged."

The walls of the ravine close in tight enough here and there that she's got to twist sideways to fit through. Rather than tolerate the inconvience, Serori takes the time to widen the pathway, either knocking the stone apart using quick jabs, or cautious ki bursts. Up above, the opening becomes even more narrow, until the ravine becomes more like a cave. The ground is uneven and becomes damp, almost slippery; she watches her footing as she moves along.

She stops for a moment and cocks her head. "Oh, do you hear that? I think that's water. I wonder if a Dragon Ball could have been washed all the way down here."

"Tell me more about what happened to you? Who defeated you, Cell? Why were you out of contact for so long?" The little headlamp she's wearing briefly shines in his face as she turns to look over him once. "I've seen you bounce back from some nasty ends before. What was different this time? It's not like the Hulk pasted you again, is it?"

"If there's something out there capable of putting you out of commission for this many months...I want to know about it. I want to be ready for it." She presses on, going deeper and deeper into the cave, deeper and deeper into the darkness, unaware of the danger at her back.

Unaware of what he might be plotting.

"Also, will you be getting back into the tournament? Hmn...you have some unfinished business there, if I remember right..."

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell is silent as she speaks. It might be enough to convince her that she's not still being followed. Combined with his unusually low power level - though Serori's probably smart enough to tell that Cell's hiding it, presumably out of habit - it makes it very difficult to actually keep an eye on where Cell is. The tight, sliding corridors offer Cell very little difficulty - he may be big, but he can dislocate his body with ease thanks to his squishy Namekkian DNA. He's like a bug, after all. A big, squishy bug.

     "It's possible," Cell agrees with regards to the water as they walk. This battleground...it was perfect for him in ways he could never have expected. He took it in as they walked, unhindered by slippery ground thanks to his big tripod feet and tail, unbothered by the tight corners thanks to his Namek parts. No, what's actually pressing is that she's asking questions. She's asking.../proper/ questions. Real questions. Questions about where he went. Questions about what killed him. Questions about what he was attacked by.

     The key to infiltration, to sneaking around, to *lying*, is brevity. Once people start examining a complex story, they find the holes. And if they find the holes, you lose the element of surprise. Cell had learned that very well in his short life - it was easy to convince people of things they wanted to believe, as long as they weren't asking too many questions. But once questions came out, you only had two options. You could try to spin a complex lie, and if you were extremely good, you might get away with it. But Cell was monstrous, and people had a tendency to distrust monsters and things that set them on edge, so even though he *was* very good at lying, he knew when to take option two.

     This is a time for option two.

     Cell's demeanor changes almost immediately as he lunges forward. He takes full advantage of the cave's silence and the darkness, of the cramped corridors and Serori's trusting nature. His tail lashes outwards, not to drink her but to wrap around her neck. His hands move for her arms, going to grab her wrists to prevent her from striking back. And - worst of all - his energy eyeblasts shoot outwards for the scouter on her ear.

     Cell is /terribly/ methodical. In the darkness, that low, hissing cicada laugh echoes all around.

Serori (37) has posed:
The perfect ambush.

Saiyans are a predatory species, too. Perhaps it was their DNA contributing to Cell's instincts for hunting and striking? Was it saiyan blood now rushing hot through his veins, bearing passion for battle to every fiber comprising his monstrous being? Does he feel a thrill at choking Serori's voice to silence, and at destroying her scouter, plunging her into a blackness her sharp eyesight has no hope of penetrating?

Serori twists her arms and jerks in a futile attempt to break his grip on her wrists. Reacting rather than acting, she strains and struggles, and swipes a powerful kick where she believes his chest to be. At making no contact, she releases a sound like a snarl, its ferocity muted by the squeeze of his tail.

Oh, she knows how /good/ it can be to execute the perfect ambush. To have her enemies at her absolute mercy. To sense their fear. To bring them suffering. It was part of what it meant to be a true saiyan warrior. She had reveled in her victories, felt the passion and cruelty lavish her pride. She had stood in Cell's position often enough to know what his laughter means.

Serori stops her struggle, for the moment. She fixes her glare ahead, wrath smoldering in her black eyes, and /listens/. She waits to hear what it is he /wants/ before she brings about his destruction. Her heart pounds in her chest, but she doesn't know if it's fear, or rising anger.

His destruction, yes. Assaulting the Queen is deserving of steep consequences.

"S-so...you caught me...acting like a -- a /fool/." It's hard to talk; her voice is a rough whisper. In this setting, even that seems loud.

Cell (696) has posed:
     It is, and he knows it. On some level, he curses that Saiyan blood. It's disgusting. It's foul. It's bitter and terrible to know that this species contributes to his makeup. On the flip side, he can't do anything about it, can he? He can't exactly unmake his DNA. He ought to be grateful. They were powerful, after all. Only an idiot denied that. Only a fool imagined the Saiyan DNA to be anything but beneficial, and Cell was anything but a fool.

     He squeezes. It's around her arms that he's focused - her neck is compressed, but not enough to rob her of her ability to breathe, nor reduce her to unconsciousness. It's a very specific, very targetted decision on Cell's part as he moves to break the bones in her wrist with medical, clincal precision. He leans close against her cheek, the horrible chittering sound of the monster filling the air as he does so. She gets to feel the terrible chitinous skin, the horrible form of him as his eyes turn to focus on her. He can't smile, but she can feel the muscles against her face contracting as if he was going to. The horrible mandible chitters quietly as his foot comes up for the back of her leg.

     "I did," Cell's mocking voice is low, even lower than her whisper, catching and bounding off the walls with dark intent, "I caugh you acting like a fool, *Queen of all Saiyans*. You must've been very close with me. You must've /cared/ for me deeply. For that other me."

     "For that *weaker* me."

     And then he flares up, and it feels so good. After years - *years* - of hiding, of working through Red Ribbon weaponry and carefully keeping his power hidden, now he gets to unveil it. Now he shines in all his glory, overwhelming and incredible. Serori is on the front row of it as the mountain starts to shake from the force of his presence, as his three-toed foot moves to break her ankle. He laughs again as his tail tightens just a bit. "It must sting. He left you all alone. He left you allll to yourself, and he never told you what happened. Just up and left you like the Saiyan trash you are."

     "But don't worry. The King cares about you, doesn't he?" Another uproarious, mocking laugh as Cell moves his hands up her arms towards her elbows. They fill with power, growing larger as he empowers himself. "I hope he does. I really hope he does. I hope when he finds you here - and he *will* find you here, because the signal I just gave him is /more/ than enough to get his attention - he gets angry. I hope he goes on a nice big rampage to find me. I hope when he finds your /broken/ body, your /shattered/ arms and legs, he gets so mad he blows up a city and brings the Union right down on his head."

     "Because you /people/," Cell hisses in her ear, "You *creatures* are so..."

     His foot moves to grab her tail. "/Predictable/."

     "But don't worry. I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of a zenkai. I'm not going to leave you with any new power at all. Just a nice, broken set of limbs...as a *message* for the could-be king."

     "That I'm coming for him," Cell purrs in a horrible voice, "And that I am *not* the Cell you know."

     "And that he and all you miserable apes should remember what it's like to feel /fear/."

Serori (37) has posed:
Saiyan bones are dense like iron, and resistant to breakage. Saiyan muscles are more like bundles of steel cables than flesh and blood, and are resistant to tears, pulls, and bruising. Every other part of their body, from their organs to their vascular systems to their ligaments to their senses, is stronger, more resilient, and more capable than its human counterpart. Compared to humans, saiyans are war machines, built to sustain environments and levels of combat the human body could never hope to endure.

For Cell to crush her wrist like a piece of chalk requires incredible force.

Serori's eyes bulge at the pain flaming up her arm. He'll feel it; the quickening of her pulse, the way her breath turns shallow, the small hiss escaping her lips. As his hands slide up her forearms to snap her radius and ulna, as his mandibles press close to her ear and make the breadth of his malice understood, she tries to scream. She /tries/. It emerges as a choked whimper.

The feel of his foot against her leg pushes her too far.

Serori tenses in his grasp. Power rushes around her body in the form of a gale-force vortex. Little flashes of power cast a dim glow against the darkness, reflecting in her wide black eyes, and in Cell's smug alien eyes. Serori strives to push her body past its limits, to use the pain, her shame, and her anger to fuel her power. The cavern rumbles. Another shockwave tears at the air, and rips pebbles from the walls and ceiling. The floor shivers like she does, but it shivers in wrath, where she is gripped by agony, and by something deeper and far more unpleasant she's unwilling to name.

Her ankle crumples under his foot. She buckles and her stance slips sideways, and the power she's begun to gather threatens to slip away. "Nnnh -- "

Like a gentleman, Cell keeps her from falling, of course.

She's held where she is, simmering with impotent fury, only the cavern able to reveal the extent of her rage. It trembles again. Golden light rises up around her form like a candle being lit. An emerald purity wells up inside her stormy, pain-glassed glare.

The last chittering hiss sinks into her mind.

He grabs her tail.

"No -- " Serori freezes. For only a moment, but she does. It's long enough to quell the rising tides of her prideful display. "No, don't -- !"

It's long enough to return silence so the cavern, so that her /shriek/ is the only sound to be magnified within its echoing chambers.

Cell (696) has posed:
     Cell doesn't respond. His power disappears. Even his laughter vanishes into the silence, nothing to pierce it - not walking, not talking, not mockery. Just silence. As she lays there, maimed, in the middle of nowhere, Cell walks away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he waits, in silence, in darkness, for Vegeta to come. He leaves her alone with her pain and her fear, with her thoughts, with the knowledge of what he is and what he is capable of, and - more terribly - what he is *waiting* to do.

     And then he blasts the entrance to the cave shut.

     It won't take long for Vegeta to find her. But he will make the Saiyan Prince *dig*. He will make the King of all Saiyans dig for his Queen. He will make Vegeta get down on his hands and knees and tear through the dirt, or show off his vast and staggering arrogance and blow the mountain apart without consideration for his woman. It's a final dynamic insult Cell is quite proud of as his power level vanishes off the grid and he flies away, disappearing into the stormclouds on his cicada's wings.

     Once he's far enough away, he coughs something into his hand. He hacks up a capsule corps capsule - rebranded with the Red Ribbon logo - and pops it open, slapping the Red RIbbon communicator into his ear.

     "This is Commander Green," he offers cheerily, "Reporting in."

     "Welcome back, Commander," Android Sixteen's voice crackles in his ear, "Frequency is rotating at several cycles per second to prevent decryption. Do you have a report?"

     "Oh, yes. Yes indeed, old friend," Cell chitters, sadistic glee in his voice, "But first...but /first/ I want you to do something for me."

     "I want you to put me in contact with a Union officer. I have some goodwill to earn."

     "Affirmative."

     Cell vanishes the communicator back into capsule mode and swallows it once more. Then, with no one around, he lets out a terrible, chitinous laugh, and resumes flying onwards through the dreary, pouring rain.

     He had such /sights/ to show them.

Vegeta (663) has posed:
Dig.

Dig?!

Vegeta is standing outside of the entrance, sensing Serori deep down into the cave.

He's not going to dig, he -is- arrogant, he is -fully- aware of what he can do.

But he doesn't blow it open either, no, his aura flares, hair shifting to yellow, then he just -flies-. He flies through the rock, shattering through it with sheer brute force. Rocks disintegrating around his body but also fusing with eachother as he leaves an entirely new hole behind him.

But Cell was correct, this is dangerous, and things do begin to collapse. But Vegeta doesn't care, Vegeta is the Prince of all Saiyans, also the King, that is how saiyan he is!

But he doesn't care, because he -is- arrogant, he's arrogant enough to fly even faster, to cause even more of a collapse, until he's standing directly over her, punching each rock that falls down toward her with his bare hands. He doesn't know how long they'll fall, or how big they'll get, but he's going to stand here and punch them for as long as he needs to.

He will literally fight a mountain for his queen.

Serori (37) has posed:
By the time Vegeta /finds/ Serori, she's learned to put aside the throbbing pain bludgeoning her mind and senses into gooey submission. She's learned to grit her teeth and to fight /back/, and to keep up the fight no matter how exhausting the battle becomes. By the time he punches through the mountain to find her lying broken on the ground, hatred and rage have restored clarity to her reasoning, and also restored some measure of her dignity, of her arrogance.

"Vegeta..." Just his name; just a croaking whisper made raspy by damage to her throat and the anger burning in her glare. She doesn't beg for his help. He's already giving it -- and a Queen does not /beg/.

Below the protective veneer her temper creates, however, her skin is crawling, her heart is pounding, and she wants /out/. Out from the mountain, and out from the under the memory of Cell's...torture. That's what it was, wasn't it?

"Cell is coming for you." The words gasp out from her as he lifts her from the ground. The pain is coming back in force. Serori clenches her teeth around a whimper as she feels her bones grind. It doesn't matter how he moves her; any movement /hurts/. That was what Cell wanted.

"I'll k-kill him for this..."

Vegeta (663) has posed:
"Wrong." Vegeta responds once the rocks finally stop falling, two large piles flanking them. Even as a super saiyan, his fists are bleeding from just how many he had to deflect. And he couldn't simply -shoot- them, that could have caused the entire thing to cave in. Typically he wouldn't care, but this is a delicate situation.

"-I- am coming for -him-." He reaches down to lift her up into a cradle in his arms. He knows it'll hurt, but he doesn't hesitate. He's a saiyan, she's a saiyan, they're warriors. If sympathy stopped them, they wouldn't have survived this long. If she has to suffer for a while for him to get her out, then that's what has to be done. "It's over, let's go."

He starts flying through the tunnel he created, getting closer and closer to the light.

Serori (37) has posed:
Nothing else needs to be said. Serori lies as still as she can throughout their journey, and constrains her complaints along the way to soft, small gasps or clenched teeth. She focuses on the beating of Vegeta's heart, of the sound of his angry voice reverberating inside his chest, and on her own anger, simmering and bubbling over inside her like a pool of poison, like magma. While Vegeta snaps at Cell across the radio, she waits for a pause, when she finally speaks again in a dead, cold murmur:

"I'll stand by you forever if you crush him like the bug he is."

Vegeta (663) has posed:
Vegeta bursts from the cave, heading for the nearest gate. He'll take her to medical, but he doesn't respond, he's -angry-, this can be felt, practically -tasted- in his power. But he simply can't respond to her, all he can do is direct his anger at the radio, at -Cell-.