This was an opportunity that only came up once a year that she was looking at. Only once a year did the best fighters in the Saiyan race, excusing the elite of course, gathered for a week of matches, "games" and contests of strength. Only this year did it appear she had a chance of becoming the champion. She felt the warm blood racing through her veins as she prepared for the match to begin. She stretched, even though no Saiyan needed to do such things before a battle; she checked the minimum protection that was allowed to make sure it was put on properly, even though she had done so before three times; she scanned the crowd looking for Bardock, even though she knew exactly where he and his team were in the crowd.
She nursed her shoulder as the cheers from the crowd bristled through her hair with the wind. A wound from last match, but it would make no difference once she got started. Celera looked over her opponent. Although their planet was small she was always surprised by the diversity of Saiyans that attended this event. This one was very slim for a Saiyan but she could almost feel his power as it erupted from his aura. She smiled to herself; she would have to beat him with skill as Ki blasts would be ineffective.
Celera didn't mind it; it would be more fun like this. Her attention was pricked as the heavily clad Saiyan walked towards the center of the ring. The crowd echoed her excitement. She briefly pitied the Saiyan who would have to stay in the ring at all time no matter how dangerous things became, but then that's why he wore such protection.
King Vegeta had given the signal for the match to begin. In a matter of minutes the Saiyan would throw down his arms and they would take off for each other's throats. She crouched down close to the ground to prepare for that moment. She would have to be fast, she would have to be skillful, and most importantly she would have strike.
The Saiyan moved and Celera launched into the air with only her own force to propel her flight. She buried her fist into his chest and curved her body to avoid his own gifts while she planted around blow on his head. She had noticed that this one brought weapons with him, which was not completely against the rules as it was strongly disliked, and had been aware of his slice but had felt no pain. Celera had assumed he had missed, but the look on his face did not that confirm that.
She looked down at her armor. The thick green shoulder strap had been slashed. At fist she did not completely understand the meaning behind it, but as she eyed his sly perverted grin she felt disgust and rage run through her.
"Come on baby let's see the goodies," her opponent mocked her.
She clenched her teeth, grinding them lightly and considering her next move.
"You want a strip show?" he screamed at the crowd who betrayed her with their ambiguous reply of cheers and howls.
The female warrior had always been a respected figure in her society. She was considered just as good as any male warrior. She was allowed to stand beside them on the front and take positions of status and responsibility, but here to this man she was something else. Something completely different�
"What scum," Bardock growled.
Toma nodded in agreement, but placed his head on his hands obviously bored. "So how long will she take to kill him?"
Bardock noticed Seripa, the only female of their team, only unusually disturbed by this display and he supposed that was to be expected. She and Celera were very close. Common experiences from being two female warriors and fate had united them in friendship. It was like this was happening to her. Her fists tighten as she wished for Celera to cut off the head of the man she was facing
"Soon I hope," he answered.
Celera took a deep breath. That was what he wanted. He was a warrior like her and he knew that to be an effective warrior you have to use your opponent's flaws against them. You have to strike at their weak point. He wanted her to cringe and try to protect her body so that she would make the mistakes he needed her to make. But this body was her tool; their parts meant nothing to her even in their sexual use.
She glanced down at her armor again and then with a wicked grin and a small ki blade cut and discarded the top piece.
The crowd screamed in support of her actions. They were thrilled by the turn off events. Even an eyebrow of amusement was raised by King Vegeta. She noted this all and it pumped more of that fresh battle excitement into her veins.
She had not been wearing the standard bodysuit under her armor today. Today she had selected only her tight form fitting shorts to wear under her armor. When she stood in the middle of this ring now, she stood with all she had bared fully.
Celera smiled as she noticed a small current of blood running from her opponent's nose. "Weak, pathetic, pervert," she thought. There would be much more blood on his face than that though�
She sipped her drink quietly in the shelter of a small table towards the back of what was known as the feeding quarters. She had killed her opponent today and that disturbed her although she was not completely sure why. Most of the losers were killed and even though she had killed many of her foes in battle on some planet, she had never killed an opponent in these games.
It always seemed to her to be a waste for Saiyans to be killed purely because they lost. If only one may win such a fight she believed it was no reflection of your worth if you lost. But most thought otherwise.
Of course there was no penalty if she should choose not to kill once she won the match but there were always murmurs. Always suggestions that she was weak behind her back, but no one ever dared to make such claims in her face for she believed that losing was no flaw or crime but challenging her in such a way was a different story.
Which was why she was so bothered by her remorse over killing him. He was like any Saiyan who had dared to challenge her and paid the price with their life. Why did it brother her so much?
"Hey Chibi, looks like you've earned your honor this time," a voice announced from behind her.
She leaned back and looked up at Bardock�s face. He was the only one she would let call her by that nickname, which she had earned through her reluctance to kill in such matches and other unusual thoughts she had. To the Saiyan's such things were symbols of weakness and only the small, the vulnerable, the pathetic of their kind had weakness, chibi. He was the only one who would dare to call her that without four other fully-grown warriors for the battle, but none-the-less it was written on the walls of every room she entered in silent ink with the stares of her race.
"Because I killed him?" she asked as she took another sip of her drink.
"That's what they say," he reported suddenly unconcerned.
She growled lightly. Celera knew that he only pretended to be concerned with the ways of the Saiyan. He himself was unlike the image of the prefect Saiyan. For one he was a scientist and an excellent one at that, and he shared a lot of her own unusual thoughts. But still he strove to become more Saiyan than she suspected he really was. He constantly fought and fought; each time coming back half dead and recovering in a few hours. He had adopted most of the strong Saiyan attitudes and a bit of the male machismo that came with the warrior title, but she knew that none of it was true underneath it all. That was why he was the only one she let call her 'chibi'.
"Where's the rest of you?" she asked�
