The sun rose from the horizon, leaving the bleached coolness of the night behind. The sun's warmth prickled against the many bodies contained within the front yard of the rejection base. Nearly every standing saiyan was covered in injuries, blood caking over closed wounds.
Three untouched rejects who had not moved since they were cast into the light, had toppled a flashy looking aggressive failure. They looked down at their handy work like vultures satisfied with the bones they picked along a street. The man with the mohawk laid sprawled on the ground with red liquid began to stop pooling by his head.
From above, one of the overseers looked to the other. "His vitals are fine," she said, confirming that no rule had been broken.
Despite the failures needing to not kill, a reject has never gotten close to the killing side so the rule never has been applied in reverse. Quite frankly the overseers do not want to see a reject kill a failure, because while they are down there the failures still represent the warrior race until they become rejects themselves.
"So he'll get up" spoke the man floating beside the other voice. "We will just keep an eye on his vitals"
"Correct"
Back down on the ground, 455, one of the dozen who stood on the sidelines pondered behind a false neutral expression. Behind his eyes, he was freaking out.
("Should i be excited, thrilled, or terrified? Seriously master..what Is this") He mused quelling the tremors reaching his knees. ("Whats..") He scans the area with his eyes and finally notices 455, his friend didn't notice him however, and the Scruffy haired boy couldn't move his body yet. ("He thinking about, what's he even looking at")
While everyone finds their bearings, 455 thought about how his side of things had gone.
[Flashback Start]
When 455 had his rude awakening he studied the situation with careful consideration. If he should have expected this and what the sound actually is. Why was the room this shade of red(yes he learned what colors are). Why when the door opened he was greeted by a sea of his peers? Eventually he was consumed by the wave of bodies and washed out into the bright night.
The bright lights blinded him as he was shoved forward. After a brief moment the shoving behind him concluded as everyone was getting settled in their own little space on the gravel. His eyes squinted, the lids loosening as his sight adjusted to the bright lights casting down on him.
Then came the yells and screams. A deeply loud crunching sound as something fell from above into the sea of black hair. 455 was too short to see what was going on over the many saiyans blocking his line of sight. Later on he wished this moment lasted longer.
The night was filled with bodies flying everywhere and with each one falling the sound became clearer and clearer. The sight's bloodied bodies became visible and now the source too.
455 watched as Bodies crashed against each other. Skin and bones crashing against each other. The sounds became disgustingly less rigid and squishier–and when they did the sounds of agony always followed like lighting after the crack of thunder.
("Nevermind..") Thought the boy with sharp scruffy hair. ("Can i just learn from Zukki's lady friend"?) He mused inwardly as fear gripped his heart. The battle hasn't reached him, but had a sinking feeling it would and the suspense was killing him.
Somehow he was able to remain utterly still frozen in a growing fear that rotted him. Until the sun peeked over the horizon and he looked over to see a dozen others like him who hadn't done a thing. Then he saw 456 and their eyes met, but he resisted the urge to convince.
[Flashback end]
456 and 455 have recognized each other from across the battleground. Their eyes moved to the others who stand out among the rest.
A handful of females, 69 is the one who stood smug above the rest. Clutching her torn armor piece, one of its shoulder pads was missing, another arm crossed over to complete her slightly lopsided arm folding form.
The majority of rejected saiyans were men, although one thing that was common amongst all rejects was their lack of fat or extra muscle. Number 1 had a full beard, a tall, lanky disheveled man in just a black body suit. Numbers 7, 17, 77 were bald headed lanky cowards who were trying to hide behind each other's shadows. 25 was a big huge brute with barely any hair in his head,who honestly should be bigger, the look in his face screamed "no one home" behind his eyes. With two twin lackeys who followed him around.
450, the one who goes around telling people his name is Jagger, stands aside with a bead of sweat falling down his temple.
Who would be the next person to break this stalemate? One more of the dirty dozen had dashed out like they were going to do something. Instead of assisting the take down of Mohawk he disappeared behind the backs of the saiyans struggling to catch their breaths. The distraction of the Mohawk going down masked his presence. He had the state of mind to pretend to be hurt as well.
Then finally one of the sections of gasping rejects seemed to recover. The next logical step and the thing they had been doing for years occurred to them. They would pile on the defensive duo.
The duo that had remained steadfast weren't even friends, just fellow failures with aspirations beyond their own strength. They knew what being outnumbered was like. Losing to a horde of enemies wasn't unfamiliar. Now they had to accomplish what they never did before. Being rushed down by hungry warriors. Even if they were led to believe their strength was over double each individual as they came running again.
"This section we've beaten several times" The female of the duo coughed. Brushing a strand of her rigid shoulder length wet away from her eyes.
"How long until dusk?" Responded the burly man with choppy black hair and sharp features.
"Sir, the sun just rose"
They were facing each other, but with the lines of their sight just a step to the side. They had naturally moved to face this way in order to watch each other's backs. Not back to back as they did not trust each other that much.
The section of rejects naturally surrounded them. This time the cries of desperation could be distinguished.
"Kyaaaaa" one reject yelled as they came in fist awkwardly cocked above their head and to the side. When they launched this over-wounded attack their face was met with the sole of a boot.
After that reject was hit with a high kick and sent back, two took their place. A frontal pincer attack, a desynchronized strike from the left and then right. The burly man's shoulders checked the closet one, sending them crashing to the ground in which they did not rise right away.
The right attack coming moments later was countered with a sharp elbow and punch that forced him down with a fractured nose. Blood dripped down his face while the battle moved on.
It was another session of awaiting danger and quashing this rebellion quickly. They may be failures but they are not rejected by the kingdom; not yet anyways.
Several dove in looking to grasp the duo's limbs like 25's goons had done. The low sweeping grasp was hopped over, in fact they were stomped in as a result. Body stamped into the gravel, their face scrubbed and buried in it.
The burly man had his arms grasped, but with some effort he was able to break the grip on him by flexing his muscles. Following that up by digging his elbow in the attacker's stomach. The attacker then recoiled from having his guts visited by an unwelcomed guest. His head snapped back as he took a fist to the face.
"They're getting craftier," the man said while taking out another attacker with a strike. A body check to one approaching behind the woman.
"Slam your head into a wall hard enough and you'll learn it hurts eventually" the woman scoffs at the rejected attempt to strategize. Taking slamming her foot into a third reject piling onto the burly man.
The sun seemed to climb a centimeter at a time.
Of the four failures dropped into this battleground, two of them are enjoying naps in the gravel. Mohawk may have gone down in a sudden violent trap, but the weary eyed coward who was embroiled by him got swallowed by the night hours ago.
A third of the rejects were too injured to rise anymore by this point, some probably exaggerating or just outright accepting their places on the ground.
The rest now surrounded the duo, a great circle made up an area locking them in. The rejects weren't pouring in due to each one believing the next will go in to fight; sometimes several at a time. Regardless they all knew this can't end until the sun goes down. It was a war of attrition on both ends. If the rejects all go down and they lose their numbers, winning is impossible. This strategy was their only one for years; only a handful have succeeded and it was due to this approach. Born out of necessity rather than wisdom.
With an audible crunch, then a second a moment later a figure leaped into the air. Jumping as far overhead as it could. Curling taut into a ball, in the air like a cannon ball, they only kicked out with full force once their target was within reach. The most bold move of the day, a drop kick delivered by long legs.
Number 69 had dashed in and finally made her presence known. Launching a drop kick with the full force of her lower body. The target was the dodging woman, as she hopped up to avoid a sweeping grab. She noticed the woman's body curling into a ball in the air. Lifting her arms up to block the surprise attack she was launched due to the force of the kick. With no way to stop the momentum she felt the back of her head slam into the face of a reject preparing to fight. The crowd behind her scattering like bloodied pins.
The encirclement pushes closer to 25's spot as it closes in to fix the break where the failure landed.
The burly man was shocked to see 69, falling to her stomach and quick standing where the woman had been a second ago. Recognizing a problem he shook off his current opponent and attempted to strike the long legged reject. What he did not notice was a certain cone style spikey haired boy skulking around for this exact moment.
Licking his lips the boy looked as though he smelled blood. He scratched something itchy on his head before moving in just as the burly man wanted to attack. Coiling his leg muscles, bending his knees like a spring he shot his head directly into the man's chin.
The burly man's jaw clenched as blood spurted from between his lips. Taking a lumbering step back like he were a giant the man only stopped to spit up some blood pooling in his mouth. He nearly bit off his own tongue.
"Pfft, you, little..!" He couldn't find the words to describe his anger.
"You.. piece of trash!" the woman spits before standing up slowly, she touches a bruise forming on her unseen chest. She was only able to block one of the places she was kicked. Having decided to split a second to block her head instead of her chest. Now she's wincing and hiding stifled gasps of air.
She wasn't leaning against a wall to brace herself. Behind her were an angry hive of fists. They wailed on her in-between her attempts to escape. Pulling her back and driving fists into her spine and ribs, attacks to the head were blocked.
69, with an armored chest cut jagged across the shoulder and down the sternum area. Her chest was covered, although even with her small size it was tightly bound, due to the malformed shape. Her hand rose and she taunted the woman getting consumed by the sea of rejects.
Meanwhile the burly man had finally gone on the offensive. Scrambling with lumbering heavy fists that crashed into bodies that were in the way of his target. The boy with countless static spikes for hair dove behind rejects. Flying under legs until one body ended up landing on him.
"Let's get a crack at it, my fists are absolutely stronger than that freakish skull of yours" he says while picking up the limp body and tossing it aside.
His foot came crashing down, but only met gravel. So he would continue to chase the boy until his fists met a target that would resist or he caught him. Soon he would find a brick wall to run into.
25 had been taking a long time to mindlessly revel in his accomplishment.
"Ha...ha..haha, i did that!" He says while ignoring other opportunities to secure his future.
"Boss..come on, the sun isn't halfway up the sky yet."
"Boss boss, look, the other two are close to going down. Then we can all leave"
Two small impish voices pleaded from the sides of the big lanky man. They noticed the burly man approaching, but neither he nor 25 noticed each other until the former struck the latter's chest.
25 was pushed back, gravel getting shoved along below. He remains rooted to the ground while gripping the fist with both hands. His anger bubbling.
"Trying to steal my..win. hell no you don't" he growls while raising a fist. Without technique or style he rammed it towards the burly man's face.
The burly man had his target changed entirely and only lifted his hand to place it between his face and the punch. The fist crashed into his palm and the back of his hand, but most harshly his knuckles were crushingly into his face.
"What the..ghhha" he grunts in pain while standing back. Gripping his face as the pain settles in. No blood. For now at least because the man saw red in the lanky brutes face.
The spikey haired boy was number 300 and he was skittering away underfoot like a cockroach making its tactical retreat under the fridge.
As everyone took a moment to assess their surroundings and the sun climbed into the sky several figures had yet to move.
Jagger was feeling anxious in his spot as he shifted his feet every so often. The tip of his tail flicking along his waist.
455 and 456 were utterly stunned, the former studying what he didn't want to learn. The latter was still scanning and searching for a certain girl who should have been at the very front of this insanity.
"Where is she?" He breaks his long silence, the gasp that follows releases an immense pressure building inside him.
"What even is all this.." both newbies thought for the dozenth time that day.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
(A/N) Got this second part out as fast as i can. Gotta say...the collections still motivate me. Just one person reading means the world to me. I know I'm writing this for myself, but I would love to hear what someone has to say one day. Is it too brutal? Is it bland? What are you excited for the future knowing original characters are in this?