Episode #4: “The Beast That Shouted 『 FIGHT』 at the Heart of the World”
Dragon Crisis by JulieYBM
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“Dragon Crisis” is a silly little fan fiction crossover between Dragon Ball and DC Comics that I have been working on on-and-off since...I was a teen girl? I honestly don't remember. Beginning in 2016 I began working on the latest incarnation of this project and re-worked the plot, eventually paring down the story into what I planned as a six chapter story, each chapter being structured like a half-hour episode of Dragon Ball. In other words, I have structured the story as a 120 minute movie.

 

As I am often wont to do, I decided that while I had structured the story as I pleased my health really only allowed me to write the second half of the story. As a result, I set about writing 'Episodes' #4-6, which would cover the main battle that the story was centered on: Son Gokuu versus—you guessed it—Superman.

 

Dragon Crisis was a work I initially began working on out of frustration with how absolutely bored I was with crossovers between franchises. This sentiment was crystallized when Toriko x One Piece x Dragon Ball aired in 2013: all of the characters got along and the element that is most unique about Son Gokuu—putting fighting strong foes before all else—was not explored in contrast to the more friendship-centered Toriko and One Piece.

 

Equally frustrating for me as a fan of combat series and crossovers is that a decisive winner could never be reached. In the aforementioned crossover Son Gokuu, Toriko and Luffy reach a draw in their battle. A draw is not necessarily a bad thing but in a story a conflict’s conclusion must mean something and set the characters down a new path toward self-improvement. I feel as if a decisive win makes taking a step forward easier to convey, furthermore it adds a sense of satisfaction. I realized that in this crossover a draw was relied upon for one reason: capitalism. Pinning series against one another and showing decisive superiority is thought by the capitalist corporations to be bad for sales. As a result, I realized that the real satisfaction could be found only in the realm of the unofficial parody. The fan creator does not answer to capitalists nor do I answer to other fans. In this realm I am free to realize my story unperturbed and to the best of my—admittedly limited—ability.

 

As a result of these conclusions, I wanted to form a story that answered that call I felt highlighted the contrasts of the traditionally banal ‘superhero’ from the west with the ‘hero’ Son Gokuu, who is not a ‘superhero’. How does one accomplish this? You put him into conflict with the pillar of banal American traditionalism and ‘American exceptionalism’: Superman.

 

As a young girl growing up in the 1990s and 2000s I grew up on several depictions of Superman in media but they always seemed to be wet blankets and just plain un-fun as characters compared to the more pride-driven protagonists in Japanese comics and cartoons. I decided that to maximize the sense of conflict I was going to have to essentially take these elements and turn them up to ‘eleven’.

 

Superman in modern contexts has moved away from being a social and economic justice warrior to being a generic, inoffensive—most especially towards conservative and centrist/neoliberal Americans—face of capitalism. Growing up on the oppressive tyranny of the conservative American family structure as a deeply closeted queer transgender woman, I struggled in adulthood to adopt my own sense of politics. As I took up this project first as a critique of mainstream American superheroes from the perspective of a child of the ‘anime boom’ I soon began to realize that the depiction of Superman I was crafting was also a victim of toxic masculinity and American social norms. As I slowly came to terms with being transgender and queer I continued to refine this depiction of the character. Whereas I once set out to craft the ‘complete opposite’ of my ideal Superman I found myself now pouring my hopes for freedom into him. Resultantly, I’m actually pretty proud of the character develop I crafted off of the top of my head.

 

This depiction of Clark Kent was for a time meant to be read as either a transgender woman or a cisgender man. I felt as if, in part, I wanted to create something for my cisgender friends who are men. They are their own type of victim of toxic masculinity and perhaps they, too, can have “little a catharsis” as the meme goes. It was my hope that any cis men—or trans women in denial—could perhaps gleam a little something from this work. However, I ultimately decided to firmly cast this depiction of ‘Superman’ as a self-hating, closeted trans woman.

 

As a writer, I feel like I’m never quite happy with my projects. In many ways, I’m not ready to call these chapters ‘finished’ but for the time being I think there is enough here to submit to you, my reader, a proof of concept. I hope to receive feedback and questions so that I can get a new perspective on what this story needs to evolve. I myself am thinking about condensing the plot so as to merely deal with a four episode system, where scenes explaining the plot are both established in a new Episode #1 with other planned scenes sprinkled throughout the three chapters now written but as flashbacks.

 

It should be noted that this depiction of the DC Universe is not particularly fleshed out or even my ideal depiction. I’m currently working on a far more ideal depiction that I call my ‘Earth-Z1’ (the Earth-1 of my ‘Multiverse Z’) however for now that universe exists merely as a 40,000+ word story outline. If I had an assign this story a universe within my ‘Multiverse Z’ I’d assign is Earth-Z7. ‘Multiverse Z’ is about having the room to create stories that are quite different from the official DC Universes, hence why I chose ‘Z’, for it is the letter furthest from the ‘ABCs’—or basics—of the official DC Universe projects.

 JulieYBM (She/Her)  

    

 

Dragon Crisis (2016)

Episode #04: “The Beast That Shouted 『 FIGHT』 at the Heart of the World”

Written by JulieYBM

 

 

            Satellite cameras zoomed across the atmosphere of Planet Nele all the while capturing images and safe flight patterns. Billionaire and allegedly reformed criminal Lex Luthor had spared no expense in the creation of the cameras—each adorned with his corporate logo—meant to capture and broadcast back to Earth—and elsewhere—the battle about to unfold on the far away world. When only five days prior it had been leaked that there would be a battle between his arch nemeses—Superman—and one of the mysterious visitors from another universe—Son Gokuu—Luthor knew he would have to be at the forefront of the monetization of such an event. Superman finding himself begrudgingly coaxed into combat for sport was nothing new but had always been spur of the moment. This battle, though, was ceremoniously scheduled—if hastily—and looked to be marketed as a sporting event for a corrupt capitalistic system. Luthor had shrewdly procured an uninhabited planet so that none would be hurt by the battle. “No blood, no problem,” the genius billionaire had arrogantly proposed at his press conference earlier in the week. Investors and sponsors flocked to the feed like fowl that knew no foul. Clearly this meant the foe Superman was to face would be formidable and a formidable foe for Earth’s favorite adopted son meant money in the bank for its least favorite son. Luthor, personally manning the maintenance crew of the dozens of satellite cameras now roaming the planet, grinned as he overlooked the world from the atmosphere.

 

            As devoid of sentient life as Planet Nele was, the planet was fittingly abundant with vegetation. Flourishing jungles, forests and other ecological norms dressed the planet in a brilliant green and blue. There were deserts, there were oceans, there were mountains and there were auspicious archipelagos. Doubtlessly, there were lands where it never stopped raining, lands where it never stopped snowing and lands where the fires childishly refused to settle.

 

As the sun welcomed a new day a decidedly groggy lizard none too different from an Earth lizard awoke in what later became known as Clash Desert.  At first perplexed by the arrival of a new space ship, the lizard seemed to recall once before seeing many crafts similar depart the world. Or was that just his imagination? Then again, he was a lizard and was not particularly inclined to give a damn. Excreting a week’s worth of fecal matter, the lizard dug back into the desert earth, blasé.

 

            From the craft exited two figures, one remaining decidedly distant in approximation from the other. Adorning a cape no less red than that of a king The Man of Steel appeared like a god to the viewers at home on Earth. Everything was perfect about Superman, from his spotless uniform to his gelled-back hair to his physique. Only the scowl adorning his face spoke of imperfection. The men and women of Earth in their infinite lack of self-awareness praised him as a deity and to that effect perhaps he subconsciously believed himself to hold the responsibilities of one?

 

            Following from the rear, a man clad in a red martial arts dougi followed. With much glee the mysterious visitor from another universe, this Son Gokuu character, thought aloud to himself “There ain’t any people, but there sure is a ton of life! Aw, well, whatever. Now I can go all-out without anyone compainin’ ‘bout anyone getting’ hurt!” Taking into the air through his ki-based flight technique, Son Gokuu took sight of the nearest change in topography, a sweltering jungle just to the north. “Ossu, Clark, do you think there’s anything tasty to eat in that jungle?!”

 

            Superman didn’t even look at his irritation. There was still a half hour before the ‘match’ was ‘scheduled’ to begin. If he had to spend another five minutes listening to the inane blabbering of that dolt he really might have to forego the official match and begin beating the ‘Saiyan’ to a pulp then and there. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to this nonsense. If only he could have insured a way to force the other Saiyan, Vegeta, to forced to pay for his crimes. Superman suspected the ‘compromise’ of a trial-by-combat suggested by the visitor was merely little more than an excuse for him to get his thrills fighting someone. How was it possible beings of such power and capriciousness to exist?

 

            With a snap of his blue wrist guards, Son Gokuu began to stretch. The immediate dunes seemed to grow heavy with tension. Were the distortions of the air simply due to the sweltering heat of the abscond?

 

The Justice League Watchtower orbiting Planet Earth was crowded with Leaguers that day. The world seemed to have come to a stop. Not a single crime had been committed that day. It was if the world itself had united simply to view the first metahuman Olympics. Had Superman continued to be appraised of the death of activity on Earth he would have blanched. That the world could be united in peace merely through combat sport with a murderer’s freedom on the line was too venomous.

 

The main view screen and several of the smaller view screens were tapped into the feed being broadcast from Planet Nele. Leaguer’s grievances over the advertisements scrolling across the bottom of the screen were mere outlets for their anticipation and unease.

 

The Batman leaned back against a control panel as he viewed the mood of the scene. Guy Gardner and those around him spoke loudly about how Superman was sure to clean the clock of the Saiyan. Another group, spearheaded by Big Barda, commented that if the ease with which the captured Saiyan had dispatched Atomic Skull and the other villains were any indication then the match could become very interesting very fast. Batman redirected his attention to the Saiyan who had started it all, Vegeta, smugly sitting full-rear atop a control console, hands cuffed, but otherwise unperturbed. Having paid close attention to his body language and words since his capture, The Dark Knight was beginning to suspect the shackles, strong enough to shackle some of the Justice League’s most dangerous foes, were merely a pretense. 

 

***

 

Monitors across the universe washed dark rooms in lights that changed as if in dance. Whether in Gotham, Metropolis, Central City or even clear and blue skies of New Genesis, these colors were bathed in by mortal and god.

 

Leonard Snart—his trademark blue goggles comfortably covering his eyes—showed no sign of emotion as the news coverage pundits discussed the financial benefits of the world’s most renowned hero taking part in a ‘sport’.  The icy cold dining room table began to warm as the captain tossed his legs on top and fiddled with his phone. A text message from Captain Boomerang expressing dismay at the events unfolding before them gave Cold pause: Boomerang and some of the other Rogues were going all-in on a joint betting pool with the rogues from Gotham. “$630 million on the Man of Steel? Pfft.” Cold tossed his phone onto the table and returned his attention to the news. ‘There’s too many unknowns about this ‘Son Gokuu’ fellow to just up and bet the Big Blue Boy Scout,’ Snart ruminated, “Bad form, George.’ 

 

***

 

The sound of the buzzer silenced the universe. Carried on the back of the wind, sand danced around the two competitors. The Man of Steel stared down his foe, refusing to lose sight of him. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that he had truly never ‘thrown the first punch’ before and the lack of experience, he found, was maddening. Clark Kent tried to make a fist, but all he could do was stand there, formless, waiting.

 

The anticipation left Son Gokuu positively keyed up. The Saiyan was confident the sweat shooting like a star across his brow was due not to the beating sun above or the killer climate surrounding but rather the anticipation of facing a foe he could absolutely not read. “Guys from this universe ain’t got no ki for me to sense, but this Clark guy in par-tic-you-lar is real hard to read. It’s like he ain’t got any fightin’ spirit. Ge-ge!”

 

Seconds past, but neither competitor moved. ‘Strongest guy on Earth, strongest guy on Earth…’ Guy Gardner’s words ran through Son Gokuu’s mind like a mantra, the drum beats of a great war. Finally, it was too much. “To hell with it!”

 

Slicing through the sweltering heat of the desert like no punch before it, the fist of Son Gokuu connected cleanly with the tip of Superman’s nose. As if a gale force itself had slammed into him, Clark Kent was sent flying back through the desert, his noggin acquainting itself with prickly cacti and his orifices-of-the-person with sand.

 

“W-what happened?” One moment The Man of Steel was swearing to never take his eyes off the irritating Saiyan, the next he was firmly planted in a hill of sand. Reminding himself to do so, Superman dug his way out of the sand and stumbled to his feet in a daze, his cape nearly tripped him as the wind wrapped it around his leg. Shaking his head to free it both of sand and its grogginess, Clark used his superhuman sight to reclaim sight of ‘that Gokuu character’. Much to his chagrin, the Saiyan was closing the distance on their 360 foot gap with a slow, tension-filled walk. “This really is just a game to him.” The fists of Clark Kent were clenched at last.

 

***

 

Reactions to the first blow of the battle flared up across the universe like dancing lights wrapped around a Christmas tree. Almost nobody had seen the Saiyan move and the advanced Lex Corp camera system was still, according to the scrolling text running across the bottom of the screen, ‘adjusting’ to the movements of the fighters. “This is essentially the warm-up,” explained The Batman to those Leaguers surrounding him, their bodies equally drenched in sweat. Placing his coffee mug safely on a patented coffee-proof control console, The Batman continued: “once the super computer running those cameras has collected enough data it should be possible for the battle to visible through the broadcast.” The Watchtower lit up with another uproar of discussion amongst its dozens of heroes and crewmen only to be quieted by its glorified prisoner redirecting their attention to the screens. “Hush now!” Vegeta yelled, not in frustration but almost is if a proclamation. As if following his own advice, Vegeta added in whisper: “Something is about to happen.”

 

***

 

Off-kilter and still reeling from the initial blow, Superman nevertheless lunged through the air at Son Gokuu and did his best, unrefined as he was, to slam a right hook into the red dougi-clad Saiyan’s face. Much to the shock of the universe, the Saiyan accepted with no problem. Despite preparing himself with a legs spread wide and a slight forward hunch, Son Gokuu skidded backward; kicking up sand like a manual lawn mower would grass.

 

Thoughts spilled from Gokuu’s mouth with no regard for appearances. “Yeeouch! That stung! Clark ain’t a martial artist but his unrefined blows have naturally destructive force behind ‘em. They’re dirty and they stick!” Rubbing the left side of his jaw, Gokuu broke from his now weakened stance and stood upright. “Y’ain’t bad! This should be lotsa funs, Superman!”

 

“Thank God that dolt remembered to use my hero name and not my real name,” Clark grumbled to himself as he fiddled with his uniform to straighten the wrinkles. The burn of having his identity exposed on top of having his punch taken willingly would’ve been humiliating. “You’re testing my strength, aren’t you?”

 

Son Gokuu replied with naught but a giggling grin.

 

The Man of Steel fired off another slug…but this one did not connect. Son Gokuu, poker-faced, merely turned to the side, eyes kept on the fist as is it retracted back to its owner. This continued a handful of times until the Earth-raised Saiyan finally reached behind The Man of Tomorrow’s left shoulder and pushed him forward as he stepped aside and behind him. Casually watching his foe stumble forward, Gokuu scratched his head, confused.

 

‘I can’t hit him,’ Clark realized. Launch after launch of hooks both horizontal and vertical and not a one could connect on his curious foe. Was it speed? Turning to face Gokuu once more, Superman unleashed a punch with more speed, only to be rebutted.

 

Gokuu caught the second hook with the back of his right wrist and pushed it off course. With a left counter to Superman’s abdomen Gokuu dropped his foe to his knees.

 

The look on Clark’s face was doubtlessly a look of shock. ‘How?!’ The sensation of his heart beating on his chest, of antacid gathering in his throat, horrified Clark. Never before had a fear been planted into The Man of Steel that made his body react in such a physical—nay, physiological manner. Being faced with a logic he could neither accept nor refute, a crack appeared on Clark Kent’s soul.

 

With a back flip kick, Son Gokuu sent his blustering big blue foe flying through the desert into the jungle to the south. Foliage and trees were torn to shreds as Mister Kent tore through the jungle, slowly but surely finally crashing into the lake square in the middle of the jungle. Bubbles rose to the surface of the lake.

 

Son Gokuu hovered in the sky above the lake, the ripples adoring its surface finally dissipating. “Hope he can swim,” the student of the Kame-sen’nin thought aloud. Alas, it was destined to be but a brief interlude. A brilliant red beam of heat seared through the surface of the lake. The sky seemed almost to catch fire as clear blue reddened with rage. A towering blast of the heat vision of Superman engulfed Son-san. In almost an instant the lake had turned into a massive crater disguised by a shield of steam massive more.

 

The tower of heat waved over Son Gokuu’s person like hot grease over an ant. ‘This,’ he thought ‘This is what I’ve been looking for!’ With a shout, Gokuu raised his ki output and broke free of the blast. The tower dissipated soon after and Gokuu relaxed his ki, the white-colored aura briefly covering his form quietly fading, his jet black hair calming its dance amidst the winds. With Superman covered by the mountainous steam cloud and having no ki for Gokuu to sense the forty-six year old set about thinking of a plan to smoke his prey out of hiding. Unfortunately for him, his brainstorming was quickly interrupted by a flurry of short, ever increasingly pinpoint blasts of heat vision. Whereas the initial blast was a blustering and thick spread of heat these were becoming shorter, faster, thinner and harder to avoid. Gokuu danced through the air, doing his best to stay ahead of the blasts, but as their numbers increased so did the number of ways Gokuu had to divide his attention. The Saiyan soon found both his red dougi taking on burn marks. A blast even momentarily singed the tip of one of his bangs! “If I’m goin’ to hit back I gotta see him first!” Raising his ki once again, Son Gokuu’s body exploded into a fiery white aura that adorned his body. The pressure made even his black hair dance in the wind. Two beady red beams of heat stabbed into the Saiyan’s left shoulder but the ensuing bee-sting was promptly ignored.

 

***

 

The Watchtower roared with cheers as their representative appeared to be taking the flow of the battle back by force. Things had started to look bad for a moment there but now that Superman had that Saiyan dancing to his tune they were sure things would start turning to their advantage.

 

Ray Palmer furiously analyzed the data being recorded by the League’s own satellites deployed around the planet. That burst of energy and the weird light that had surrounded Son Gokuu worried him. For a brief moment the alien martial artist had somehow put out a burst of that same ‘ki’ particle that had killed Atomic Skull. It was difficult trying to understand the power itself without understanding how the Saiyans’ bodies generated it. The young inventor’s thought process was interrupted by sudden new readings. Son Gokuu was once again adorned in a wildly moving aura. The crowd, as if in synch, hushed at the ominous sign.

 

“That means he’s bringing his power to the surface,” Vegeta announced with an amused look.

 

Palmer instantly set about working that hint into his hypothesis. The energy readings were rising rapidly, “…surely this can’t be controlled?!” Palmer turned to Vegeta for further answers.

 

The Prince of Saiyans considered letting the League suffer in suspense a little longer but the loud vocal cries for an explanation were getting a little annoying. “It is. This isn’t even half of Kakarotto’s power.”

 

“N-not…even half?” Palmer and the others repeated with despair. Readings like this suggested “but…but with readings like this he could—”

 

“—destroy a dozen worlds without breaking a sweat,” Vegeta finished, gesturing an explosion with his still shackled hands.

 

***

 

It was time for a counterattack. With speed that sent the satellite cameras through a loop once more, Son Gokuu repositioned himself to the ground outside of the steam cloud formerly known as Jungle Lake and clapped his hands together. Generating a massive shockwave, the Saiyan-raised-on-Earth blew away the cloud almost instantaneous.

 

Now adorning a torn and roughed up super suit, Superman felt more so naked by the loss of his steam smoke screen than his now fashionably battled damaged costume. It was his one cover from which to hopefully end this charade and see justice dealt but now his façade of dominance was unveiled. Could he keep the battle going in his favor now that he had lost his advantage?

 

Son Gokuu declined to stand around doing nothing. Dashing forward, Gokuu launched a flying kick at Superman.

 

‘Speed,’ The Man of Tomorrow remembered. ‘Combine your powers; it’s the only way to stand a chance!’ Superman refused to take his eyes off of his foe, every movement through the air, inch-by-inch, caught by his eyes like a slow-motion recording. Finally, The Man of Steel caught his prey.

 

His leg had been caught, mid-kick, and was now being crushed by both Clark’s arms and between his body. Gokuu spun as best he could to connect his free left leg with Superman’s temple but was met with an arm block smashing into his leg. His foe was quick to grab his remaining leg, leaving Son Gokuu without a leg to stand on. Before he could counter with his fists the Saiyan found himself being spun around at high-speeds.

 

As if spinning an electric saw blade, Superman spun and spun, tearing through the terrain with his Saiyan foe as his blade. The jungle terrain kicked up into the air, whether soil, stone or foliage.

 

***

 

A saber tooth tiger cracked open an eye to view the spectacle that had awoken him from his slumber atop the jungle’s sturdiest tree. Those two humanoids were making quite the racket and had now disturbed a catnap on his favorite perch. With his orange ears twitching in annoyance the saber tooth allowed his eye to shut and attempted to return to business. Suddenly, the Great Tree shuddered. Opening both eyes to ascertain the source of the shaking the saber tooth was further annoyed to find that the one clad in blue had slammed the one clad in red into the tree. One hundred eight million years and the Great Tree had never once taken a scratch. Now an adult humanoid-sized indentation adorned its base. This needed to stop; now.

 

Dizziness plagued Son Gokuu as he did his best to take his one chance to free himself of Clark Kent’s grasp and peel himself from the alcove his body had painstakingly created in the Great Tree of the Southern Jungle. “Owchie, shit! I’ve got a splinter in my nose!” The somewhat high-pitched voice of the Saiyan somehow reached higher as he grasped his face with both hands. After a moment’s beat Gokuu realized he should have used his hands to blast Superman with ki.

 

Hands still firmly grasping Gokuu, The Man of Steel finished peeling Gokuu out of the indentation his person had made in the Great Tree and introduced it to the nearest boulder. The slam shattered the boulder into a frankly uncountable number of pieces the creepy crawlers calling it home chose not to bother counting. Superman leapt atop Gokuu’s body to keep it pinned down as he began slamming punch after punch into the facedown Saiyan’s spine. Any critical damage he did could probably be undone by League technology. All that mattered now was winning the fight and ensuring that Gokuu’s callous friend didn’t escape the good twenty-to-life in prison he deserved. Too bad that those saber tooth fangs tore him off and tossed him aside.

 

“Goddamn it!” the saber tooth roared, exasperation worn upon his sleeve. “Can’t you brats take your pissing contest elsewhere?”

 

Clark Kent had never faced a talking saber tooth tiger before. Then again, he had never willingly agreed to a formally scheduled battle before. It was a weird week. “D-did this saber tooth tiger just speak?”

 

Gokuu hazily lifted himself out of the crater his body had formed. Taking sight of their party crasher the man turned to Clark and asked “Yeah, so? Happens all the time where I’m from.”

 

Clark Kent had no words.

 

The Batman considered the existence of a sentient, talking saber tooth tiger silly for but a moment before memories of Starro, the sentient starfish, slapped that thought down. Taking a sip of coffee, The Dark Knight nodded, as if in agreement. Several of his colleagues raised an eyebrow.

 

The wind caught the ripped, torn, grated, shredded and singed dougi Son Gokuu wore. Whis-san, attendant to the Destruction God known as Beers, had created the red dougi for the forty-six year old Saiyan when he began training under him only a few months prior. Amazingly enough, the small symbol Whis-san had drawn on the front left of his robe top had escaped the battle insofar unscathed. Every other inch of the dougi had seemed marred in some way, but not that symbol.

 

Locating a nice, rocky and deserted area, Gokuu pointed to The Man of Tomorrow that they had found their new arena today. Superman nodded in agreement, finding that with the pillars and boulders as large as they were he would be able to use them to his advantage. The odd couple landed, each atop a different pillar-esque rock formation. Gokuu went to tighten the blue dougi belt that held together his robe top only to find one of ends shorter than the other. The battle had been so intense he hadn’t noticed that his belt was not half the cloth it was before! The remaining end was already showing signs of fraying.

 

Clark landed atop his own pillar-esque rock formation and surveyed the landscape before him. Since his foe would have difficulty searching him out without that ‘sixth sense’ of his working on those from this universe he definitely had an advantage he could make use of. Still, this practically perpetual valley of rock formations and pillars did have him wonder just what had once happened on this world. Intelligent life must have existed on it at one time or the other, surely. ‘Don’t get caught up in it,’ Kent reminded himself, ‘Focus on the fight, win it, then go home. ‘Justice’ isn’t some game, damn it!’ Superman unleashed a spray of heat vision to slice the pillar his foe stood on as he tightened his belt.

 

With his footing taken from him by surprise, Gokuu collapsed onto his back from his fifteen foot tower. “Yeesh!” the Saiyan grumbled as he regained his foot, “My ass hurts!” Much to his chagrin when the Saiyan sat back up he realized his adversary had taken to the wind. Now, in the thick of a valley of boulders, pillars and formations, Son Gokuu cursed the reminder that he was battling a foe with no ki. Using his eyesight would take too long, too.

 

‘Just buy a little more time,’ the Kryptonian reminded himself. ‘Three—no, two more minutes and my injuries should heal.’ That initial punch to the face had broken his nose and muffled his breathing and the knees to the abdomen had not helped. With the solar rays of the sun still beating down on him it was only a matter of time before his cells repaired his body at an accelerated rate. With his stamina practically limitless so long as he played his cards right it was only a matter of time before Son Gokuu reached his limit. ‘Surely that Saiyan is already experiencing internal bleeding from earlier blows!’

 

It would a bit of a headache, but waiting for his foe to make a move voluntarily was getting to be annoying. Son Gokuu raised his ki—already on edge by pure combat instinct—and placed a hand to the ground. Spreading ki through the surface of the world, Gokuu covered as much of the valley as he could. Causing the ground to explode with his ki would be the best way to smoke Superman out of hiding. Too bad Superman, having drilled through the ground, grabbed his arm and pulled him underground.

 

‘Let’s both lose our breath!’

 

Soil, soil, stones, more soil, and insects filled the lungs of Son Gokuu. The unexpected dive into the ground had—expectedly—surprised him and kept him from shutting his mouth in time. Now he found himself combating a lack of oxygen and unwanted company within his person. Unleashing a quick, improperly focused kiai, Gokuu blew away a sizable section of the planet, even forcing his foe to break his one-handed grasp on his wrist. Still, he was still quite exposed. The humongous dust cloud he had created would do him no good, either in locating Superman or in catching his breath. ‘Ain’t got time to be fillin’ my lungs with more dirt!’ Gokuu thought to himself while he desperately tried to cough up what he had already swallowed. ‘Gotta get above the cloud so I can get some fresh air and find water!’ Before the Saiyan could even make break for it he found himself pulled once again down toward the planet’s surface, this time by both ankles. “Damn!” Patience running thin, Gokuu pulled himself down and slammed a fist into what he hoped was his figureless, unseen foe’s face. Whatever he hit seemed to suffice as he quickly found his ankles freed. Cupping his hands to his side, Son Gokuu channeled an immense amount of ki into his palms. A spark of a blue light appeared.

 

***

 

The satellite cameras were true to their maker. Even the massive cloud coverage obscuring the fight was not enough to stop the cameras from capturing the nitty-gritty of the now grit-covered combatants. The watchers of the Watchtower were on the edge of their seats and feet as the battle seemingly grew dirtier and dirtier by the second. Nobody could tell who was winning and every time Superman seemed forced to take action those who knew him best feared for him most. “If he could just get some time to himself,” Palmer thought aloud “he could rejuvenate his cells with the sun’s energy.”

 

Vegeta, still atop his perch, laughed. “Not going to happen, Kakarotto enjoys battle far too much to take a break.”

 

The Batman, listening in on the conversation, returned his gaze to the monitor. “Clark’s best shot is to take the fight to the nearby sun.  If he can escape the atmosphere then this Son Gokuu fellow shouldn’t be able to follow. “

 

A smirk graced Vegeta’s face. “Really now?”

 

“Hey, something’s happening!” Guy Gardner shouted, returning everyone’s attention to the battle. A blue light illuminated the dust cloud as a stream of energy punctured the cloud and slammed into a momentarily stunned Superman, hunched over and rubbing his jaw atop a stone pillar.

 

***

 

It came almost without warning. A brief chant of some nonsensical phrase the translator piece in his ear couldn’t decipher heralded a terrifying ‘light’. A stream of those blue energy particles rained down on The Man of Steel, not simply colliding into him, but engulfing him and sending him flying through the surface of the planet. Deeper and deeper he flew, like an ant carried by the mightiest fire engine hose. Clark reached out with his right hand, desperately trying to close the gap between himself and the one who dared make a mockery of the justice system. The Saiyan’s words replayed through his mind: “Eh, why don’t we just fight for Vegeta’s freedom? Lemme fight yer strongest guy and if I lose I won’t just use my Shunkan-idou to teleport him back to our universe!” ‘Forced,’ the Earth-raised Kryptonian thought to himself ‘…h-had no other choice!’

 

Another crack appeared upon the soul of the beloved Superman. Tears escaped his eyes—only to be incinerated by the stream of ki tearing him through the planet—as Superman accepted that he was helpless.

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