#let alone added unneeded shit to sky's character just to be an excuse to get rid of her at the end of S5

[thetimelordbatgirl]

With all the mystery around who Ruby is and who her mom is, I really, really hope it isn't actually the Trickster like others have been saying, because while yes it would be nice to see something from SJA appear in current DW, it also would just feel weird at this point as the Trickster was such a Sarah Jane villain that it just feels wrong to give him to the Doctor as an enemy just because Sarah Jane is gone.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 7

[Emotional shit! *jazz hands*. I almost cut this off early but then I had a THOUGHT. So enjoy :3]

Nabooru

This mission didn’t follow the typical aggressive vein of work assigned to her and the Saiyans. A few years in now, she had accompanied her new cohorts on a fair amount of jobs that involved putting down this rebellion or that by killing the insurrectionists, no questions asked. They battled entire armies with ruthless abandon, killed smaller groups working behind the scenes to usurp governments loyal to the empire. Dispatched a radical or ten and destroyed and purged entire planets when the rebellions ran too deep. All without much more instruction than “put a stop to it,” which, for them, meant through violence.

Nabooru leaned her hip against her pod as she reviewed the instructions on her scouter again. Though well acquainted with the task at hand after a week long trip, she still felt like she had misread. Due to the rebellious faction turning the greater portion of the planet's army against the monarchy who remained loyal to the empire, their team had been sent to Planet Trimbon to meet with the leader of the rebels and come to a peaceful solution that would place the army back under the control of the monarchy and, therefore, on the empire's side. Supposedly, this army was valuable enough to try and coax away from this charismatic leader and back to the fold rather than to simply murder.

Even more strange than to order a trio of blood-thirsty Saiyans and a more combat-oriented Gerudo to deal in matters of diplomacy was the order from Frieza himself that Nabooru meet with the leader alone. Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz would find a position and ready themselves for an attack should the meeting take a turn for the worse. 

She tried to tamp it down, to maintain her focus on the task at hand, but paranoia settled into her subconscious during her time on the force, a growing shadow that mangled reason and picked at her confidence at the worst possible times. This mission felt like a trap, too out of place and out of character, and, as she observed her comrades, she thought she witnessed the same consideration in their own disgruntled expressions. Vegeta looked outright pissed. Though she imagined it was because someone other than him was in control of the success and failure of the mission.

"Did you set your scouter properly?" he growled. "Keep the line open. We'll be able to hear if you screw it up and react accordingly."

"Yeah, no offense, Nabs, but you sure you're cut out for this?" Nappa folded his arms over his broad chest. The use of any nickname for her used to irk her and she let them know in snappish fashion, but the more time she spent with the Saiyans--the fights, the missions, the reminiscing and shit talking over a drink or several (this one mostly with Nappa and Raditz, though Vegeta joined on occasion)--the more comfortable she grew with their camaraderie. She still kept them at arm's length, tried to keep her care for them skin deep and as fellow soldiers. But as time wore on, she found herself shifting closer and closer to craving a proper friendship with them. Even the prickly Saiyan prince.

"I'm not," she snorted. "Never have been. My temper and mouth had a tendency to get me in trouble and derail talks back home before too long. I never really got why our king kept dragging me along. It wouldn't surprise me if it was some sort of strategy of his. Or maybe it was simply for the entertainment value. I always found it fun to make those sexist nobles uncomfortable just by speaking at all, honestly."

Raditz shook out his mane, flattened by sitting on it for the long trip. "Think they would notice if we skipped the diplomacy, then?" He fit his scouter to the side of his head. "I'm sure we could tell them we were attacked upon landing and our hands were tied. If Frieza's going for a less forceful impression on dealing with insurgents, I don't see why he sent us here when he has all sorts of people who only deal in diplomacy to take care of this. Especially when she just admitted she would probably mess up."

"For once, I agree with him." Vegeta's obsidian eyes shot to Nabooru. "We stick to orders no matter how unnecessary. I just hope you have a better plan than running your mouth and saying something idiotic."

"No guarantees." She flashed him a grin but, when his peeved expression morphed to a full glare, she added, "This won't be hard and Frieza knows it. Back home, my people and I didn't have the power or leverage to back up our demands. We had to play their games and fit into their molds to make any leeway. That's not the case here. They likely think it is, though. The problem will be not letting my own impatience get the better of me, really."

Vegeta scrutinized her for several moments longer, the tapping of the end of his tail against his waist catching her attention. Thoughtful rather than forceful with anger. Finally, he clicked his tongue. "See to it that it doesn't," he ordered. He turned on his heel to face the other two. "At least we know you have a strategy rather than going in blind like a fool. Hurry up and get going. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Nabooru nodded and double checked her scouter, placing it on the proper settings. "As you wish."

She shot Nappa and Raditz a wink before taking off, following the tracker toward the capital city. An unneeded aid; the twisted, alabaster spires of the palace rose over the horizon, piercing the chartreuse sky like spears. Extravagant and gaudy, it reminded her of Hyrule Castle. It resided at the center point of the sprawling city, the hub of the planet's governing body and home of likely hapless rulers if Frieza liked them enough to have the royal family and everyone else who lived there evacuated as soon as the force soldiers stationed on the planet caught wind of the insurrection. She doubted it was a courtesy extended lightly. Only to those who proved most useful and sucked up the best, she imagined.

Slowing her flight, she gazed down at the city, noting pock marks of destruction here and there, buildings still aflame and a steady flow of survivors rushing for any exit they could find. The wall surrounding the castle had been breached and destroyed in multiple locations. More a show of strength over actual need since the rebellious soldiers could likely fly. 

Nabooru landed at the base of the palace steps and ascended, approaching a pair of guards poised at the entrance. One wore what appeared to be a uniform of sort while the other dressed in more ragtag combat gear. Long, pointed ears jutted out from the sides of their angular faces and their irises took up most of the space of their eyes that lacked pupils, one colored silver and the other a deep plum. They turned to face her upon her approach, expressions wrinkling in distaste.

"Thought we ran you lot off with the cowardly royal family," the soldier grunted, folding his arms and widening his stance. "State your business or get lost, loyalist dog."

The familiarity of his reaction made her snort. "I have a meeting with your leader arranged by Lord Frieza himself. What was his name? I can't seem to remember it. I'm kept awfully busy conquering planets and I try to only remember the most important bits of information."

The pair exchanged looks of doubt and aggravation. "You're the envoy that tyrant sent to see the great Floyt?" the rebel asked, plum eyes narrowed in disbelief. 

"I am. So which one of you would like to escort me to him?"

The soldier took up his post once more before the rebel could argue, causing him to growl. "Fine. Follow me."

He turned on his heel and Nabooru followed him inside. The extravagant entrance hall had been destroyed. Graffiti lined the walls. Expensive art and décor lay in shatters or was missing from pedestals or hooks on the wall. Looters and vandals alike darted this way and that, laughing as they swiped up whatever was left that they could get their hands on for profit or destroy for the joy of it. 

From what she understood, she would rather back them. An oppressed people taking back what was theirs. Overturning an abusive monarchy. If only her life hung in the balance and not her entire race’s; she would purposely sabotage her mission and instead aid this army and the next in freeing themselves from tyrants like Frieza. The king of Hyrule. All the others thriving off the pain of others.

But she wasn't confident she could get away with it without arousing suspicion. And even if she did as far as the meeting went, fighting the retaliation was another story. Raditz alone could take on the strongest members of this army. She would have little excuse for failing in that department.

The guard escorted her into a throne room in a similar state of disarray and commotion as the rest of the palace. The throne sat upon a raised platform, its gild and glamor marred by paint and the remnants of the old banners strewn over it. The man seated on it was tall and lanky, his legs draped over one of its arms and his body resting against the other. He wore similar attire as her rebel escort.

"Leader Floyt, I present the diplomat sent by you know who." He bowed low.

Nabooru rested a hand on her hip, amusement dancing in her gold eyes. Floyt ordered him to rise with a wave of his hand and straightened in his stolen seat, chest puffed out. It was no secret he reveled in his newfound power and status, and his followers were more than happy to oblige. She wondered how deep the fanaticism ran, if this would be savior surrounded himself with yes men and desperate fools or if he had truly created a movement here.

"I hardly expected someone so lovely when the soldiers stationed here were so disgusting." He stood and straightened his top. "You are dismissed, Clarin. No one else in or out unless told otherwise."

Clarin bowed and turned back the way they came. Nabooru watched him until the gargantuan doors closed with a bang behind him, then returned her attention to her host. Floyt descended from the dais and halted in front of her. He stood a few inches shorter than her, and his long ears were bedecked with earrings from lobe to tip. He had softer features than his cohorts, but the cleverness in his smirk and the cunning in his tangerine eyes couldn't be dismissed. Her patience was already being tested as his gaze roved over every inch of her, making her want to pluck his eyes from his skull.

"Are you sure you're not looking for a new employer? I'm certain I could find several positions for you amongst my ranks."

"I'm not. But I'll keep you in mind when my contract is up." His delight faltered for the ghost of a second. Her memories of Ganondorf and how he dealt in matters of diplomacy both within their tribe and outside of it served her well. Pleasant enough but firm. Just like a fight, play to her strengths and their weaknesses. "We have business to discuss. Surely my beauty hasn't made you forget that I'm here for Lord Frieza?"

Floyt clicked his tongue and nodded toward the door behind the throne. "All work and no play, I see. Come along then. We can use the war room. Would you like any refreshments? I can have whatever you like brought up from the kitchens."

Nabooru fell in step with the leader and waited as he opened the door, slipping past him and into the room with a shake of her head. "This won't take long enough to finish anything, let alone enjoy it."

She didn't miss the flash of disappointment--annoyance, even--before allowing her attention to observe the chamber she now found herself in. Large and circular with a high, domed ceiling, compared to the rest of the castle she had seen, the war room remained mostly untouched by the rebels in their revelry. The maps lining the walls remained pristine, the long table at the head of the room along with the various seating throughout remained intact and currently unoccupied. She half wondered if the current occupier had yet to use it.

Floyt closed the door behind them and strode passed her with the easy confidence of a child who won their first spar. He crossed to the room to the round table at the head of the chamber, taking a seat in the elegant chair obviously meant for the king. Nabooru joined him at the table, remaining on her feet opposite him. 

"Your boss has a deal to offer me, yes?"

"Deal is a strong word, but I have been asked to attempt something like one." Nabooru flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. "What is it you really want, Floyt? Power? Money? Fame?"

"Freedom," he answered. The light caught the jewels twinkling on his fingers as he banged his fist on the table. Tattoos or an intricate birthmark started at the top of his hand and snaked under his sleeve. She noticed the same markings peeking out from beneath his collar. "From this abusive monarchy. From the clutches of the Cold Empire. I'm looking to change this planet for the better. Give Trimbonians the life they deserve after centuries of serving this pitiful excuse of a monarch and his good for nothing family. Surely even you can understand the tantalizing draw of freedom."

She could. And his words. His desires. They were all very familiar to her. His speech struck a chord, but this mission was not her own. She wasn't really calling any shots here. A puppet, a mouthpiece, nothing more.

"I see. I can only offer a compromise." The Gerudo folded her arms, and cocked her head to the right. "Frieza is really only interested in maintaining the army on this planet, keeping it loyal to him for whatever he needs them for. The royal family is...disposable in some ways. However, this planet will need a leader, someone to maintain matters and the army. Swear loyalty and servitude to Frieza and the Cold Empire and you can have your revolution. At least from the royal family. It's the best I can do. Refuse and I can't guarantee your survival." The same offer given to her people, essentially. If he agreed like the Gerudo had, would she be ordered to pluck him or some other soldier from the fold to join the galactic army like she had been? To destroy lives in order to maintain those on the planet they left behind?

"Is that a threat?" he spat, sandy brows lowered and lip curled upward in a snarl. Despite it, he kept a dangerous demeanor about him, but collected enough. He closed his eyes for a moment, two. "His soldiers were no match for us. We have the numbers to manage on our own. Your threats are meaningless. We will fight if we have to and take no prisoners."

"It's only a threat if you let it be one. I'll level with you: this is going to sound like a boast, but I'm several times stronger than the soldiers you've dealt with here. I can take your army on single handedly. As can each of the Saiyans I have with me." She pinned him with a resolute stare, gold eyes glinting in the light of the chandelier overhead. "Refuse to stand down and agree to these terms, you and anyone else who stands against us will be killed. This is your one chance to make your difference and save your soldiers."

The rebel leader remained silent, still as a statue seated in the usurped monarch's seat. Save for his face. They flitted between her and the table, her and his fist. The corners of his lips dipped lower and his eyebrows joined them. Nabooru recognized that pained expression. The stubborn pride warring with reason and responsibility to others outside of oneself. She had seen it on her face in the mirror, Ganondorf's countless more. Her heart felt heavy as it did in those conversations with Ganondorf. On those rare occasions when the heat of their arguments fizzled down to the deep, dark hurt of helplessness. In their private meeting to decide if taking Frieza's offer to them was the answer, the right move. To this day, she wasn't so sure.

Finally: "I refuse." He swallowed and met her gaze, hand dropping from the top of the table. "I'm taking back what is ours. Continuing to serve the tyranny of the Cold Empire is just as bad as if not worse than bowing down to that worthless king again."

Nabooru offered a solemn nod. "Very well. I'll relay this message to my betters and be on my way. But I'm sure we'll--"

Nappa's voice in her ear cut her short. "Your friend there ordered the army to attack." She narrowed her eyes at Floyt, who leaned back in his chair with a victorious grin and propped his feet up on the table. "You've got company on the way. We cut off some, but a lot of 'em got into the palace before we could stop 'em."

Sure enough, the revelry beyond the doors of the war room turned to cries for blood and carnage and select unkind insults slung her way. "I suppose for once the king's paranoia pays off. Never thought I'd get to sound any alarms so soon," Floyt purred, foot tapping the air. A boom resounded from the next room, the doors slamming open to admit a flow of rebels and soldiers alike. "Looks like I'll get to see if your boast was just talk after all."

Nabooru opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again as the gruff voice of the Saiyan prince growled in her ear, "Kill the leader and anyone else who stands in your way. We did our part and the fools spurned the mercy handed to them. We're done here."

She swallowed a sigh. “No, unfortunately, you won’t get to see anything else. But I will at least make it quick for you.” For me she should have added as she raised her hand. To spare her the agony of killing him face to face, a man who, perhaps, would have started a brand new age free of tyranny for the people of Trimbon. 

The universe would never know now.

She watched his expression shift from dumbfounded to furious. Floyt jumped from his seat and she just saw the flash of white ki build in his hands as he jumped on the table. It and its source were swallowed in the wave of orange energy she fired from her own palm, reducing them to nothing along with the chairs, table, and documents resting upon it. The wall behind him exploded in a cloud of dust and debris, scraps of those intricate maps floating to the carpeted floor in the aftermath.

Nabooru took the moment of silence outside of the war room door to collect herself. Sink back into soldier mode, where those who would fall by her hand no longer had lives or friends or families. They were simply the enemy. Kill or be killed. It was all for her people who she swore to protect at all costs.

As a result, her battle through the palace was little more than a blur. She didn’t see faces or hear the cries of pain as bones crunched beneath her fists and feet, or her blasts obliterated and sliced through them. She barely felt the pain of the lucky blows that landed on her person, shaken off in favor of swift retaliation.

Only when she stepped outside, the cooler breeze sobering her for a long enough moment to take stock of her surroundings, did sense return. She found her cohorts fighting the remaining soldiers, apparently deciding to have a little fun rather than simply blasting them all in a few quick attacks. Only Vegeta seemed to notice her after striking his opponent with a punishing kick and sending him flying into the palace wall. He nodded toward the others, a signal for her to help with the clean up. She wasted no time and joined the fray, the veil of duty once more obscuring the hypocrisy of her actions.

The last of the rebellion fell and Nabooru regrouped with the other three, Nappa and Raditz, at least, in good spirits.

“Damn, those guys actually made me break a sweat,” Nappa announced, grinning. “If they were just a little stronger, they might have actually caused us a real problem.”

Raditz flicked blood from his hands. “We probably wouldn’t have had to fight if the idiot just took the offer. Really threw away a rare moment of mercy from Frieza.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Let’s get going.” Vegeta’s boots hovered over the blood soaked ground, and the other two followed suit. 

Nabooru glanced over her shoulder, at the damaged palace. The white walls and twisting spires. Her frown deepened and she flew straight upward and halted suddenly. The other three followed, and she ignored their baffled expressions and questions. A sphere of ki crackled in her hand and she hurled it down toward the opulent edifice. It exploded on impact, the blast blooming outward and engulfing the palace and grounds in fiery destruction. A smoking crater was all that was left at the center of the capital city.

She didn’t wait for the others’ protests or praises. She didn’t care to talk or explain anything, from this back to her conversation with Floyt. For once, the solitude of her pod and the long trip back to base or the next planet sounded comforting.