No golden thrones or chairs of marble and stone. He preferred to observe from a perch, high above the motion and bustle. He liked to watch them all run and hide when he showed his face, to remind them of everything he could do. Everything he did once, could happened again, and all at a whim’s notice or the turn of a second. He preferred to leave himself out in the open, welcome to all challengers, eager to exact murder and pain on anyone foolish enough to challenge his regime. Every now and then, someone arrived, willing to test him for whatever reason they saw fit.
He built an arena, he welcomed them one at a time, or all at once. He offered them weapons, he offered them armor, he offered them time. He gave them whatever was necessary to defeat him, excusing even the sleaziest attempts on his life. To all that took up arms, he offered them a slice of his wealth and a pardon if they survived. Wasn’t he merciful?
Some did it for freedom, others for greed, others yet in someone else’s name, and in each case, ash and dust was spread across the ground to the roar of an audience and the attention of his army. It was over in the wave of a hand and a bolt of energy, reducing able men to fractions.
He was invincible, on a peak unimaginable. He was unparalleled in all his vices, and made sure his name was engraved on every planet he’d conquered. And a hundred planets later, with a single soldier to rule over it in his name, a challenger of worth had finally appeared.
Raditz raised an eyebrow, flashed a dirty grin, and settled on the ground. He tossed his cape to the wayside, and for the first time in a long while, he scowled. The familiar feeling of disgust and revulsion turned his stomach, and even after the wealth and power had finally calmed the embers in his soul, they came exploding back. This man who’d shown up, who’d told him to stop, who’d asked him to renounce his way, who offered him a choice or a fight… Who did he think he was?
“Finally come to see your older brother, Kakrot?” If looks could kill and words could poison the fight would have been over before it began, but to a man who’d spent so long ripping worlds apart with no difficulty, the challenge was enticing. And all the same, it was insulting.
Who was Kakarot to show up and tell him to toss it all away, to give it up and move on, to leave these people be? The gall! The arrogance! Raditz was the one who found the balls, who made the wish, who left of his own accord to find his own glory! He was the one who built an empire of blood and gore with his own hands, who sullied the galaxy on his own! No family, no comrades, no help, no surrender. With no one to stop him and nothing to hold him back he made his own fortunes, his own happiness, and to tell him to throw it all away? For whom? For the people he’d conquered?
If they deserved their lives, they’d have fought harder, lasted longer! They wouldn’t have ran or surrendered, they’d have died together, with honor!
For some misguided sense of justice, peace, and freedom? Where was justice when his planet was reduced to pebbles and boulders, the annihilation of his people covered up with a flimsy lie? Where was peace when his heart was yanked from his chest and torn asunder at the knowledge of losing everyone he’d ever known? And where was freedom when he was dragged from planet to planet, the lackey and dog of a blizzardous tyrant, prone to the insults and vitriol of his so-called comrades?
And to you, who so strongly resembled their father. Who sided with those weaklings before your own species, against your own brother, come again to kill him? Well, then?
Raditz, Son of Bardock, Son of Gine, cast aside all the things that could weigh him down: the cuffs on his arms, the dressings around his ankles, the belt around his waist. He crouched into a stretch and eyed his brother fiercely. With a quick jolt, he stood at his tallest, his shadow creeping along the ground, swallowing everything it touched.
He’d built this blood drenched empire on his own, made it himself, and no one was going to take it from him. Not again. Because unlike his dear brother, or the traitorous, bastard prince, he knew what it was like to be a Saiyan. To ravage worlds, to leave them scarred, to leave them frightened, to goad and gloat of your kills and the challenge of razing civilizations to the ground! He knew.
