The crystalline waters of the Southern Islands had always proven to have a tranquilizing effect on her psyche. Her mind was a veritable storm of creative genius; it never stopped working, scheming, and planning for the future she envisioned for herself and the Tuffle race. But the moment they reached the island where their bunker was hidden, Tangerine stood at the pier and stared at the waves for what felt like an eternity.
The waters rolled and smashed against the craggy shore. They sparkled and shone with the brilliant sunlight, throwing a refreshing spray of cool droplets that revitalized her all at once. She smiled, standing with her arms folded as she surveyed the ocean.
The geneticist turned super soldier had to wonder if her sudden decision to no longer undergo cryostasis was a rash choice. She owed her advancement and longevity to the long sleep thus far. But as she stared at these waters and paused to reflect and relish such a moment, she knew there was no way she could allow herself to be frozen for decades at a time anymore. They had to find another way to achieve their goals and extend her lifetime until she reached her optimal capacity.
She told herself this was the reason, yet if she were honest with herself, it was so that she could have more moments like these. Who knew if the next time she went under, the world would not change drastically and succumb to some sort of nuclear catastrophe? What if there were no oceans to awaken to? She had to create a better, brighter utopia for herself and her people.
Her body ached from the exertion of her run. Her bare feet pounded against the metallic track as she raced around the training facility at blinding speeds none could track with the natural eye. By her count, she'd made two hundred laps already. The track itself spanned a circumference of about three miles. Needless to say, she'd been running for a long time.
The weights were useless. No matter how many plates she stacked, it didn't provide her with any measure of a challenge. Cherry and Pit seemed impressed with her feats of physical strength and endurance, but Tangerine wasn't satisfied. If she were so impressive, why had she only experienced a nominal shift in her current power output? There were plans in place to install a new protocol—Protocol Goliath. But it wasn't ready yet.
Frustration bubbled beneath the surface. She needed to find a way to push the envelope and test her limits. Causing that large ruckus in West City had produced poor results.
A beeping sound filled her head—an incoming transmission.
"What is it?"
"Sorry to interrupt your training, Major. It's just... we might have a problem."
"What sort of problem?"
"We have visitors, ma'am." Her pace slowed, thighs flexing as she skidded to a halt. Sweat stained the plunging neckline of her black tank top, her bangs plastered to her forehead. She swiped a hand against her brow, shoulders heaving as she sought to catch her breath.
"Visitors? You think it's the Saiyans?"
"I don't think so, ma'am. Subtlety isn't their strong point." "True." She leaped off the track, landing on the lower level several feet below. Tanga grabbed her towel and mopped at her face and shoulders.
"Saiyans aren't shy about knocking. That's if they're smart enough to even find the door. What does Pit think?" "He thinks it's worth investigating. Do you want him to go check it out?"
"No. Leave it to me."
People roaming this close to their bunker was a problem. Secrecy was of the utmost importance. So many of their bunkers had been destroyed by those Saiyans, and Tangerine would not allow her own personal dwelling to fail. So many of the bunker's functions were defunct: they didn't have a full staff and crew to man every part of it, and so only a handful of areas were operational—the cryostasis tank room, the operating theater, the surveillance control room that doubled as a lab, and the training facility.
The Director and his subcommittee didn't deem it necessary to send more help. If this bunker fell, everything she had worked towards would be ruined. And she was not about to let that happen.
She didn't bother to wear her combat armor, nor did she want to get the impression that she was looking for a fight. Not everything could be resolved with fists. After twisting her hair up into a messy bun, she left the bunker in her workout clothes, hoping to appear more like a random jogger—anything to divert attention away from the area.
She jogged through the dense foliage, exiting the jungle area as she crested a grassy hill that sloped down near the coastline. A small campsite had been set up there, and she spotted a woman swaying in a hammock. She slowed down once she reached the sand, kicking off her jogging shoes to feel it between her toes. Her feet sunk deeper into the sand than she would have liked—no longer the spry little thing she once was.
She stared the woman lounging in the hammock. One glance at her and Tangerine felt jealousy stir inside of her. She boasted the lithe, graceful figure a Tuffle like her could never attain. She swallowed her disdain and leaped forward, clearing a great distance in a single jump as she landed hard near the campsite, displacing a crater of sand.
"I've never seen you around here before." Tanga glanced at the beastman, her scanner running a quick diagnostic. He didn't seem to pose any threat. She looked back at the woman.
Initializing power reading... analyzing... analyzing... "This isn't really a good area to camp in," she said.
"Sometimes the tide swells when you least expect it. Next thing you know, you'll be under water when you get hit with a freak wave. Maybe you should consider camping elsewhere." Clove (997 words)