"A toast!" A beaten, worn flagon was held high into the air. In high spirits and downing strong SPIRITS, the patrons reciprocated the motion with a cheer. "To battle, glory, and another successful ASS KICKING!" Golden frothy liquid spilled haphazardly as the crowd roared in agreement, metal cups banging together in a raucous, hearty cacophony. Such was the typical sight of a Vegetan bar, populated by a squadron of recently returned soldiers riding high on victory. Most were still caked in grime and clad in armor, making merry before the morrow where they'd return to the strict watch of a commandant. The speaker clambered down from atop the counter, loosing a loud belch as the honeyed draft disappeared down their gullet.

They were clad in a complete set of armor. Shoulderpads, leg guards, and a whole torso piece all colored yellow-white, with studded white gloves and metallic-tipped boots. An armored helmet, a rarity among Saiyans, covered most of their fiery red hair as a blackened visor obscured the eyes. This soldier looked much like any other. "A refill, if you would!" The emptied flagon slid across the countertop with surprising dexterity into the care of the ornery barkeep. The army had its perks when it came to downtime. Being able to temporarily commandeer entire bars and getting the first round 'free' (government funded) was one of the sweetest.

"Cayenne!" The Elite's head swiveled, lips twisting into a devious smile as one of her squadmates approached. "Already trying to get wasted, are you?" The admittedly lame comment got a bark of laughter from the tipsy woman, hand slamming the counter as a fresh round of drink was sent her way courtesy of the bartender. "Maybe I am!" she replied wolfishly. "Gonna stop me!?" The Saiyan scoffed, arms crossing as he tried to look disapproving. "Maybe I AM, ey? Can't have you missing the wake-up call tomorrow, can we?" Eyes rolling beneath the visor, Cayenne pat the stool beside her: "Take a load off, Marrow. Enjoy the victory." It was rare for the Elite Army to be sent off-world in place of a Militia force, but the revolting planet put up a surprisingly strong fight. Armed with advanced technology, rebels had the method AND the desire to take down the occupation force.

"I plan on that, don't worry," replied Marrow smoothly, taking the offered seat. "But your delicate little kidney might finally give out if you try to match me." Where once such things were meant as genuinely demeaning insults between two children, it was now playful banter of comrades-in-arms. "Bastard," Cayenne said playfully, slugging his shoulder. "I've lived long enough that my kidney either evolved long ago, OR I'm already dead and don't know it yet. Either way!" Saiyan alcohol was reasonably healthy. As healthy as literal liquid poison could be, anyway. High command didn't want their army constantly dropping dead from drink-related complications, and trying to restrict or regulate it when drinking was so ingrained into the Saiyan way of life would be foolhardy.

"One of these days..." Marrow exasperatedly bemoaned, slamming down a drink of his own. "You plan on paying Luffa a visit? Not often we get some R&R in the capital." Cayenne nodded, thoughts drifting to her old friend. "I haven't seen her in months," grumbled the redhead. "Last time we met up, they were working on some sort of advanced ship system. Supposedly cuts down on travel time by up to... thirty-something percent. Couldn't make heads or tails of much of it, but Luffa seemed excited and said their work could be used for military application soon." The long-haired dork had found a happy home in Development, free to be unabashedly bright and show that knowledge off among peers. The two had kept in contact since their days as cadets and had a strong ongoing friendship.

"Urgh." Cayenne set her flagon down, reaching up to wriggle her helmet free. "Getting pretty damn hot in here with all the sweaty bodies. Think I'll take a moment to get some air." Wearing insulated armor didn't help, but it wasn't like soldiers kept casual outfits around. Marrow nodded, flashing a thumbs-up as he turned to chat with a different platoon member. Wandering outside and onto the cobbled capital streets, Cayenne released a pleased sigh as the strong Vegetan winds provided much-needed comfort. Up until some drunkard harshly crashed into her. Her body hardly budged from the blow, Cayenne quizically turning to glance at the grumbling idiot responsible for the mess. "Watch where you're going next time." Usually, an icy reprimand from a soldier bearing the Elite insignia would be enough to cow most lower-class Saiyans, but not this one.

"You got in MY way, jackass." The aggressive response immediately earned him a scowl, Cayenne stepping closer and flashing her studded gloves. "No," she said lowly, "I don't think I did." Either too drunk or too stupid to back down, the man puffed up and doubled down on his idiocy. "Who do you think you are, Xeno? That hair and no tail... you aren't a soldier at all!" Having heard the same insult for over a decade, it did little to actually hurt Cayenne's feelings, but it DID spark some anger. No random nobody would get away with mocking her heritage like that. "Why don't you run on home, little girl-" A single winding hook was all it took to knock the drunkard out cold, a splash of blood coating the sidewalk as he lay in a crumpled heap. It wasn't often that anyone was bold enough to voice distaste for her species (if they had any). A solid punch was typically sufficient to correct that mistake if they did. "Hm?" Something had spilled from the man's pockets during his fall: curiosity and lack of respect getting the better of Cayenne as she scooped it up.

"'Badlands fight club, authentic brawls, food, and events.'" The soldier's brow quirked slightly, vaguely interested in the declared contents of the small letter. There was a boldly colored slab of text saying 'DON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT FIGHT CLUB' on it, with a smaller section denoting the flyer as a pass for the event. There was just one minor issue: "There's no actual info here." Everything was just advertising garbage and padding. Not a trace of a name, picture, or even general directions. Correction, Cayenne presumed the BADLANDS fight club would be in the badlands outside of the city, but that hardly narrowed it down. Most of Vegeta was sparsely populated, the planet dominated by naturally hostile terrain. Dry shrubbery, small animals, reddish clay, and sand made up most of the ecosystem. "Why am I even thinking about it?" It was true her military duties were officially postponed, a break awarded for exceptional performance. Did she really want to spend that time looking around for some bumpkin's top secret tournament?

---

The ebon expanse of a moonless night cloaked Vegeta in eerie darkness, proud landscapes twisted into amorphous mounds of shadow and uncertainty. Flying across the empty badlands gave Cayenne a crystal clear view of the nothingness, her eyes straining miserably to catch any movement or speck of light. Bored, curious, and never one to turn down a friendly fight, the Elite had ventured out into the capital's outskirts to find this elusive event. She wasn't having much luck so far. Why all the secrecy, she wondered, when events like these weren't illegal. If anything the crown encouraged citizens to keep themselves sharp in case a war came down to conscription.

And while the joy behind having an exclusive club wasn't entirely lost on the Saiyan people, most shared a communal tribal-esque outlook on activities. ESPECIALLY fighting. Excluding other people purposefully was a surefire way to insult the bored undeployed soldiers loitering around the capital. Cayenne wasn't as quick to offend. Most chalked that up to her heritage, and the redhead was inclined to agree. Vegeta's society had molded much of her personality and morality to fall in line, but just as Earth-centric Saiyans became much more protective and righteous, a Vegetan-centric Earthling would adopt the traits of her surroundings. "If I were a secret fight club, where would I be...?"

A tricky question to answer. For as long as she's known them, Saiyans were not ones for subtlety and planning. They preferred the much blunter approach of big, sturdy, and repairable. An errant thought crossed the girl's mind, absurd in nature but no less probable. Instead of expecting rowdy soldiers to make their own arenas covertly, wouldn't they just commandeer an existing building that was only used sparingly for official events? The sheer stupidity yet logic of such a move was staggering and something that Cayenne would wholly expect from her countrymen. Smothering a snicker, her white aura trail would bend, arcing across the night sky as its creator now had a specific destination in mind.

---

The Aru Arena was, as the name implied, an arena. It was nestled half a day's walk from the capital, constructed from blood-red stone in a vast empty expanse of wasteland. While maintained sporadically by Logistics and as punishment for soldiers, the ancient structure went unused most of the time. It held cultural significance and ceremonial relevance, crown-sponsored tournaments and other such events a rare but pleasant treat. Being a stone structure that was supposedly unmanned would mean it'd be dead silent and draped in the same darkness that dominated the landscape. The EXCEEDINGLY bright stage lights had alerted Cayenne miles in advance, never mind the roaring ruckus emanating from behind the arena's walls. "Ah," The soldier nodded sagely in her flight, slowing down as Aru came closer. "That makes more sense."

While nothing stopped her from simply flying in through the exposed roof, Cayenne humored the situation by approaching the main gate on foot, ticket in hand. The lone man posted at the entrance looked fittingly bored. No doubt 'door guard' outside of the arena was an unpopular position for Saiyans who had come to do and observe battle. The approach of another so late into the proceedings did rouse him, the guard clad in replica ancient armor and hefting a bell-guard hilted blade. "Hey." Cayenne's lips quirked, amused at the absolute lack of joy in his words. "You got your ticket?" The stolen flyer was flashed, earning a nod. "Alright then. Have fun in there... lots of fights tonight..." Ah, the morose mournings of a fight-deprived Saiyan. Cayenne nodded, suppressing a smirk as she stepped inside the arena proper.

The scent of spit-roasted meat clung to the air of the interior, multiple ramshackle vendor huts set up with merchants hawking their wares. Most of it was various forms of food. Fried meat, air-fried meat, grease-slathered meat, and even the rare roasted vegetable seller. A small section had actual merchandise beyond comestibles, offering replica gladiatorial armor and entry tickets for the next club meet. This whole affair DID seem a bit big for a club anyway. Regular secret events didn't typically have literal economies churning away. They were lucky the crown only taxed raw products moving around; this would've been a major red flag for a shutdown. As far as Cayenne could tell, it was simply a thriving community that operated at niche times of the day. Her military-standard modern battle armor looked out of place among the enthusiastic larpers, though from skimming the rules, it seemed either type was permitted for use.

The allure of juicy food was strong, but Cayenne's pull towards the fighting pit was stronger. The crowd was milling about the stands, arena ground empty as it seemed to be in between matches. "LAST CHANCE FOR THE CRUSHER TOURNAMENT SIGN-UPS!" Now THAT got her attention. The shouting came from an armored Saiyan, waving a brilliant blue flag emblazoned with an Oozaru skull. "This the final one of the night?" Cayenne inserted herself at the forefront of some warriors with lukewarm interest, royal crest insignia catching the hawker's eye. "Oh ho ho! We have an ELITE among us tonight, do we!? An honor, ma'am! Yes, the Crusher Tournament is not only the last - but the most BRUTAL and CUNNING of them all! A good match for a soldier of your skills, no doubt!"

Cayenne guffawed heartily. "I can see you spare no expense when it comes to flattery. Don't worry too much about the competition. This set is currently strapped with some weights; it should keep my battle power low enough for it to remain a fight." Planting the flag proudly, an eager Saiyan thrust a large board forward. "Last slot! Go ahead and put your name down. Can be a stage name, if you'd like." Shrugging, she opted to be basic by simply writing 'Cayenne' down, handing it back to an appraising eye. "Good! Showdown starts in five minutes. You'll be starting match four since ya signed up late." Fair enough. Getting a snippet on the fighter's quality and general tactics beforehand could only help. While a decorated soldier, Cayenne knew playing to a crowd and fighting for entertainment rather than efficiency was a different beast.

---

Watching some good rough and tumble old-fashioned fisticuffs was somewhat cathartic. Cayenne got swept up in the crowd's excitement, the first three battles a tense bout of skill and strength in equal measure. Despite being a soldier, an occupation that naturally involved fighting, there was a difference between military operations and good-natured scraps. Her plan to use the time tactically for observation went forgotten. It wasn't all useless - natural instincts as an adaptable fighter meant Cayenne did pick up on some patterns and potential strategies just by visual osmosis. A complimentary kebab or meat or two may have also snuck past her lips during the festivities.

Soon enough, preparations for her battle came, Cayenne wandering through a few dimly lit corridors to find herself on the contenders' side of the field. The field rules were pretty simple. Keep it above the belt, good-natured, and try not to go all out. People were here to see a fight, not an execution. Opting to keep her personal set of military armor, she had little to do until the moment the gates raised. The dim roar of the crowd grew, swelling to a deafening intensity. Cayenne's boots crunched packed gravel underfoot, gloved hands held high to soak in the adoration of her kin. Receiving proper commendation from a commandant was always pleasing, but the pure rush of an entire crowd tribally cheering her on was uniquely tasteful.

Cayenne's gaze fell to her opponent, actively basking in his countrymen's energy. The warrior was a towering brute of impressive thew, gladiatorial armor covering much of his body. The helmet was exceptionally detailed. A back-brimmed piece of headgear with a top-mounted metallic plume, full facial coverage, and a series of small holes in the face plate. Streaks of war paint coated open flesh wherever the armor did not protect, his tail let loose and swaying freely. For weapons, the man carried a pair of blunted short-shafted axes of dark iron, currently looped around waist buckles. Contrary to what she had expected from such a brutish-looking man, he simply flashed a friendly thumbs-up when attention fell to her.

Cayenne returned the gesture, idly tugging at her gloves. The metal studs weren't as lethal as most bladed weapons, but she'd have to pull her punches to not send someone to the rejuvenation chambers. A loud bell clanged overhead, signaling the start of the match proper. She started off simple by slinging a few low-powered energy bullets. Unsurprisingly, the gladiator shrugged off the stinging attacks, most stuffed by the armor. The two warriors advanced on each other simultaneously, axes kept in reserve as they engaged in more of a standard fistfight. Cayenne was physically smaller and, with the suppressant effect of her gear, slightly weaker, but her skill was undeniable.

She relied on narrow dodging and taking glancing blows rather than contesting the man's strength directly, scoring a few stinging blows with quick jabs and winding hooks. No words were exchanged, the pair locked in a dangerous dance of battle. Movement ebbed and flowed like the tide. While not relatively as swift or graceful, the gladiator was far tougher and used his longer reach to his advantage. Cayenne, used to fighting opponents more physically adept, performed admirably by sticking to her initial strategy. Despite the self-imposed restraints on power, the Earthling found herself lost in the heat of combat. The fighting didn't turn dirty or lethal, but there was a noticeable uptick in concentration as the contestants continued to do battle.

A slight lull in combat occurred, Cayenne and her opponent stepping back equal paces to observe the other. Their breathing came heavier, a glistening sheet of sweat visible on the gladiator's exposed skin from their close quarters brawl. The rush had lasted well over ten minutes, every second a constant challenge to keep up with the other lest they fall prey. Cayenne smirked, blazing ruby eyes hidden behind her visor. This was nothing but a warm-up. Saiyans, and Cayenne, by proxy of years of conditioning, had immense stamina. Despite appearing tired to casual observers, the start of sweat was a signal things were just getting started. "You're pretty good," She complimented the Saiyan. "How about we go all out?"

The man grunted, raising his fist to the air and speaking for the first time: "Then let us use the most of Aru! As an Elite, you no doubt have fine control of the great ape's power... show me!" The crowd chanted in response, Cayenne's peripheral catching many of them placing sunglasses-like objects over their eyes. By the time she fully realized he had meant that literally, a power ball was shot into the arena's upper echelon. Those with eyewear were protected from the millions of blutz waves washing over the area, but the gladiator stared directly at the source hungrily. In a matter of moments, his massive body grew even larger, coarse brown fur sprouting to cover his skin. The replica armor, built with the same modern technology, stretched to fit the hulking ape, standing tall enough to nearly reach the arena's top.

Aru Arena was built to handle combat between two Oozaru, the transformed gladiator now taking up roughly half the space as he roared, crimson eyes locking onto Cayenne's untransformed self. The beast waited patiently, probably assuming the Elite would follow suit and take on her own Oozaru transformation. "So that's how we're doing it, eh?" Cayenne grinned, unafraid of the colossal foe as she flew up to eye-level. "Your battle power is impressive, warrior! It's worthy of my FULL base!" Hopefully, leveraging her status as an Elite would help sell the white lie. A fiery red-orange aura erupted from her, battle power quadrupling. No longer holding back, Cayenne now matched the ape tit for tat in raw might.

A giant primal punch being neutralized by an equal force strike by the Elite was quite the sight. Both warriors stumbled from the resulting shockwave, Cayenne tumbling a bit further through the air before recovering, while the ape only suffered a minute tremor. Their power may have been close to even, but the size advantage and shock absorption of an Oozaru were evident from the first exchange. "Hahaha!" Cayenne's excited cry was lost among the crowd and great apes accompanying bellow, but the redhead hardly seemed to notice. The fistfight had been excellent practice, but getting to cut loose and face an enemy ten times her size was INVIGORATING! "GO ON THEN! HIT ME!" Energy bullets flew from the soldier's hands, accuracy forgotten as the flurry pelted the Ooazru without missing a shot. Quite hard to miss one, after all.

A stray shot slipped through the enlarged helmet's eye gap, striking the gladiator and eliciting a sharp yowl of pained rage. Mouth opening, a flood of Ki flowed forth from his maw. Caught unprepared for the ranged retaliation, Cayenne only had time to throw up a weak defense as the deluge engulfed her. Trapped in the attack's wake, the Oozaru slowly bent his head downwards, slowly arcing the beam to slam Cayenne into the dirt. The haze cleared, armor and suit intact. "Not bad, not bad." A crimson burst blinded the ape as Cayenne rocketed into the air, zipping past the beast's neck and delivering a sharp empowered punch on the way by. It didn't end at one strike, though, oh no. Cayenne's small and swift stature was on full display as she danced around giant hands trying to swat her down, chipping away at the goliath with precision strikes slipped between gaps in armor. Streaks of red wrapped around the gladiator like a ribbon, remnants of Cayenne's flight trail.

Everything went well until the Oozaru's open palm finally made contact. Plummeting to the arena floor like a stone, the success was immediately followed up by a hearty massive STOMP directly onto Cayenne's cratered form, driving her even deeper into the ground. "Well," she coughed dust and dirt, "That-" this time, it was a fist that interrupted her. "HEY!" The following punch was caught as Cayenne regained her footing, her arm wobbling slightly as it fought an uphill battle to hold an entire Oozaru up. "NEVER interrupt me when I'm about to say something stupid-!" Shifting in place and allowing the offending arm to suddenly slip past her with no resistance, the Oozaru stumbled forward slightly, off-kilter from the lack of counterbalance. A flying, flaming dropkick courtesy of Cayenne did little to help. Catching himself from falling flat on his face, the gladiator grunted and twisted in place, rolling over on top of the speck attacking him. "I'm getting real sick of you-" Complaint cut short by an armored back dropping on her face, Cayenne disappeared from sight once more.

---

Most Saiyans would be understandably upset if they were in Cayenne's position. Taking a formal loss after a giant ape smacked you into the ground a couple times? Neither combatant was even close to being defeated. The constraint of time and a slight edge in physical damage lent the victory to the gladiator. The Elite took it in stride, laughing the absurdity off after slugging her fellow competitor on the shoulder for good measure. What mattered to her was the battle being fun! It had been some time since she last had the chance to relax. Armor unscathed from severe damage, all Cayenne needed was a quick application of some admin-provided healing gel for minor bruises.

She spent a while longer in the area, mingling with the welcoming, rowdy crowd. Most were either retired military or unenlisted Saiyans stronger than most. Service was the typical calling for most who could throw a punch, but it wasn't homogenous. A functioning society needed people to run stores, sweep the streets and populate the houses. While Cayenne found it a shame that some of the more eager citizens didn't at least give the Militia a try, she was aware it was wholly a personal decision. The Saiyan army prided itself on operating off loyal soldiers, not conscripted farmers. The Elite would return to her temporary quarters that night wholly satisfied.

Come the morn, second day of her unit's 'vacation' in the capital, Cayenne was approached by a messenger. A tan envelope sealed in red wax was handed off hastily, the lithe Saiyan mumbling something about the urgency of reading the contents. The soldier blinked, recognizing the symbol emblazoned in the seal as the same marked upon her armor: the royal crest. Having slept in an extra hour due to the previous night's events, Cayenne was alone in the barracks' sleeping quarters. For the first time in what felt like years, a small surge of nervousness flowed through her fingers, digits stopping short of peeling open the message. While the Saiyan Army still served the crown, many were discontent with the current King and his concessions to the USD. Cayenne considered herself loyal to the legitimate ruler, confident they'd find a way to shirk the yolk of hidden oppression.

So why did she feel so hesitant to read correspondence from her King? Pushing the vaguely un-Saiyan emotion aside, her thumbs popped the seal and lifted the envelope sleeve, plucking the folded note within. The inked parchment was handwritten, surprising her even more. Nothing could quite trump the contents of the letter. 'Cayenne, Elite of the Bonebreaker Platoon, it is by the formal decree of King Braccus that an offer for specialized training under his majesty be extended to you at this time. We understand you are currently stationed within the capital and presently free from mission obligation. This is not an order but a request and no ill harm will come to your position should you decide to decline. Should you choose to accept, arrive at the main palace gates today at 15:00 hours.'

...What to do, what to do?