Launch tightened her grip on the axe handle.
She looked hungry for violence.
"So you want a taste too, huh?"
Diesella stepped forward.
She didn't activate the pilot light.
She wanted to feel the bones break.
"Of course, I've been dying to smash that pretty face of yours since you got here. You've been lucky against the trash, but your luck just ran out."
"You think burning your own guy makes you scary? Come on then. I've got enough left for you."
Diesella moved.
She didn't charge blindly like the others.
She slipped inside the range of Launch's axe swing with ease.
Diesella stepped in and threw a straight punch.
Launch barely had time to react.
She brought her free arm up on instinct, blocking the blow with her forearm.
CLANG.
The mechanical fist slammed into bone.
Pain exploded up her arm as something inside her forearm cracked.
Not a break, but close enough.
Launch answered immediately, pushing through the pain.
She swung the axe upward, aiming straight for Diesella's head.
Diesella slipped to the side at the last second, the blade cutting nothing but air.
Launch didn't stop.
She twisted her hips and brought the axe down again, harder.
Diesella moved in.
Her metal hand shot out, striking the axe handle.
The impact tore the weapon from Launch's grip and sent it skidding across the sand.
Before Launch could recover, Diesella spun and drove a kick into her guard.
Launch crossed her arms to block, but the force was overwhelming.
She was lifted clean off her feet and hurled backward, tumbling two meters before crashing hard into the ground.
"Oh, now that is what I'm talkin' about!"
Dimcha's voice boomed over the speakers, practically vibrating with delight.
"It ain't just a fight anymore, folks! We got ourselves a grudge match! A rivalry is born right before our eyes between the blonde bomber and my own right-hand woman!"
Up in the box, Yamcha watched the one sided exchange with no emotion.
"It's over, Diesella is a soldier. She doesn't make mistakes."
"Yeah. Diesella ain't got a soft spot like me. She don't play." Grizzlo agreed as he watched Diesella stalk toward the fallen Launch.
Diesella didn't give her a second to breathe.
She grabbed Launch by the collar of her bandeau top, yanked her up, and drove a fist straight into her cheekbone.
CRACK.
Blood sprayed from Launch's mouth, but she didn't go down.
Fueled by adrenaline, she twisted her body and struck a kick into Diesella's side.
"Ghh!"
She countered instantly, spinning to deliver an elbow strike that connected with the point of Launch's chin.
Launch's head snapped back.
But Launch was running on instinct now.
Instead of falling, she lunged forward, grabbing Diesella's shoulders and pulling her in.
THWACK.
She delivered a headbutt, striking her forehead against the bridge of Diesella's nose.
The two women stumbled back from each other, both panting, both bleeding.
The sand between them was stained red.
Launch dragged the back of her hand across her face, smearing a streak of blood across her cheek.
Diesella stood a few feet away, checking her nose.
She looked at the blood on her hand, and then, slowly, she started to laugh.
"That... that was cute. But is that all you've got, Blondie? I'm barely warmed up."
On the sidelines, Bulma watched.
"She can't keep this up. That other scrapper looks way stronger than the rest, and Launch has already fought three. If she falls… we're finished."
Oolong, who was standing beside her, agreed.
"It's just a matter of time. She can't beat Diesella in a fistfight. I can't watch..."
Launch roared and charged, hurling desperate hooks at Diesella's head.
She hit nothing.
"Too slow." Diesella mocked.
She waited for an opening and whipped her arm out.
CRACK.
The back of Diesella's metal hand caught Launch across the cheek, snapping her head to the side.
As she stumbled, Launch dropped low and stomped on Diesella's boot, driving her heel into the instep.
Before Diesella could react, Launch grabbed a handful of sand and flung it straight into the lieutenant's eyes, following it up with an attempt to gouge at Diesella's face with her fingernails.
"Gah! You dirty little—"
The cheap shot bought Launch a second, but only a second.
Launch tried to press the attack, but Diesella had already recovered. She shot her hands out and clamped down on Launch's shoulders.
"Enough games!" Diesella screamed.
She lifted Launch completely off her feet, held her in the air for a moment, and then drove her down.
WHAM.
Launch hit the sand on her back and stayed there, stunned.
"AND SHE HITS THE DECK! That is the sound of authority, folks! Diesella just planted the lady like a turnip! Is she done? Is she out? I think the fat lady is warming up her vocal cords!"
The crowd was a sea of noise.
"FINISH HER!"
Launch tried to hold it back, but her battered body betrayed her.
"Tch… damn it. Guess this is where I bite it."
Dust from the sand filled her nose, making her want to sneeze.
Launch inhaled sharply, her face scrunching up.
"Ah... ah... ACHOO!"
The sneeze was small, almost comical compared to the violence surrounding it.
Instantly, the blonde hair vanished, replaced by voluminous, dark blue curls.
The edge in her eyes dulled, her gaze softening into wide eyed innocence.
Launch blinked, staring up at the arena.
"Uh? Where... where am I?"
She tried to sit up, confused by the roar of the crowd and the sand beneath her fingers.
But the moment she moved her torso, reality crashed down on her.
"AAAAHH!"
Launch screamed, collapsing back onto the sand in agony.
Her entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
She touched her face and pulled her hand away, staring in horror at the fresh blood on her fingers.
"Blood? Why am I bleeding?!" She curled into a fetal position, clutching her stomach.
"It hurts! Why does everything hurt?!"
She looked up through her tears and saw a terrifying woman with a metal arm standing over her.
Diesella stopped.
She looked at the blue haired girl writhing in the dirt, completely baffled.
"Huh?"
The ferocious brawler was gone, replaced by a weeping civilian.
"What the hell? Is this a joke? Why are you crying?"
"Please!" Launch wailed, clutching her bruised ribs.
Confusion and fear crossed her face.
"I want to go home! Help me! It hurts!"
The roar of the crowd faltered.
"Uh..." Dimcha tapped his microphone.
"Folks, I... I ain't quite sure what I'm lookin' at here. Did her hair just change color? And... is she crying?"
Bulma and Oolong were just as baffled.
"What just happened? She looks... scared?"
"Maybe it's a tactic?" Oolong suggested, though he didn't believe it.
But it wasn't a tactic.
Diesella stood over her, looking down with suspicion and irritation.
"Hey! What is this? Is this some kind of trick? Get up!"
Launch didn't answer.
Diesella's eyes narrowed. The lack of a fight felt like an insult. It felt like this girl was making a mockery of the battle.
"I said get up!" Diesella screamed, losing her patience.
She drew her leg back and delivered a kick straight into Launch's stomach.
"Hgggh!"
Launch let out a strangled cry, coughing as she rolled across the sand, clutching her midsection.
"Don't you dare mock me! You think you can play the victim now? You think I'm stupid?"
Diesella didn't stop. She treated Launch like a training dummy, landing heavy kicks to the girl's ribs and thighs.
Launch didn't even try to block. She just lay there, curled in a ball, sobbing uncontrollably as each impact shuddered through her small frame.
Turn away.
Bulma squeezed her eyes shut and turning her head toward the wall.
"I-I can't watch this."
Oolong buried his face in his paws.
"Make it stop... please just make it stop."
But the crowd was in ecstasy.
They howled and stomped, feeding on the one-sided violence. To them, this was entertainment.
Up in the VIP box, however, the mood was different.
Grizzlo leaned forward. He watched the pathetic display with unease.
"Something ain't right, Boss, that ain't the same girl."
Yamcha didn't answer immediately.
He stared down at the arena. He watched Launch flinch and cry, noting the complete absence of defensive instinct.
"You're right, she isn't faking it. The will to fight... it just vanished."
Down in the sand, Diesella's frustration boiled over.
"GET UP!" Diesella screamed.
She reached down and grabbed a handful of Launch's thick blue curls, hauling her up from the ground until she was dangling on her toes.
Diesella pulled her close, staring intensely into Launch's tear filled eyes, searching for the spark of the warrior she had traded blows with moments ago.
She found nothing.
There was no rage.
Just the terrified, wet eyes of a girl who had no idea why she was being hurt.
"P-please... I didn't... do anything..."
The sheer patheticness of it snapped something in Diesella.
It was an insult to her pride.
"Don't lie to me!"
She pulled her fist back, the mechanical one.
WHAM.
She drove the metal fist deep into Launch's stomach.
"G-Guhhh!"
Diesella didn't let go of her hair.
WHAM.
Another punch to the gut.
WHAM.
"Fight! Fight back!"
High above, Dimcha leaned into the microphone with sarcasm.
"Oh, sweet mercy!" Dimcha drawled, shaking his head with a theatrical wince.
"She is absolutely pulverizing the competition! Looks like our Lieutenant is workin' through some serious anger management issues tonight, folks!"
Diesella scoffed, releasing her grip on Launch's hair.
The blue-haired girl crumbled to the sand, a broken, weeping mess, barely conscious.
"Pathetic, if you're going to act like a piece of trash, I'll treat you like one."
She raised her mechanical arm, the metal plates sliding back with a sharp clank.
The nozzle inside began to glow a menacing orange, the heat distorting the air around her fist.
"Burn."
But before she could release the trigger, a high pitched, youthful voice echoed from the sky, cutting through the noise of the stadium.
"NYOIBO, EXTEND!"
A blur of red shot down from the darkness above the arena.
A massive red pole struck into the center of the arena floor, sending a shockwave of sand that forced Diesella to cover her eyes and step back.
A small person slid down the length of the pole, flipped in mid air, and landed on his feet between Diesella and Launch.
Zip.
The giant red pole instantly shrank back down to the size of a baton.
The boy reached back and casually slotted it into the sheath on his back.
"Man! That was a really big jump! I almost overshot it!" Goku exhaled, dusting off his clothes.
He looked around, blinking at the thousands of stunned Scrappers in the stands, then turned his gaze to the woman with the glowing metal arm standing a few meters away.
"Hey! Is this the Arena?"
Diesella didn't answer.
She just stared at him, the fire in her arm dying down as confusion took over.
Up in the VIP box, the silence was deafening.
Yamcha stood up slowly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
His eyes were wide, fixed on Goku.
"Impossible... how is he breathing?"
Grizzlo's jaw hung open.
Puar hid behind Yamcha's leg.
Even Dimcha forgot to narrate.
Down in the pit, the reaction was explosive.
"GOKU!"
Bulma screamed his name, in relief.
"He's alive!" Oolong wailed, hugging his knees.
Hearing his name, Goku turned around, ignoring the lethal cyborg behind him.
His face lit up with a massive, goofy smile.
"Hey, guys! I finally found you! Man, this place is huge." Goku waved at Bulma and Oolong.