Moments of contemplation drew out to span almost an hour of Earthen time, the silent intensity of hooded eyes loomed upon the bright pink flashing before as entire manifestations were at the beck and whim of the wielder standing before him. Ragged breaths panted out, the bruises mottled over skin ached in tandem to the overexertion of muscle that had not seen a proper fight in five rotations of Earth's orbit.
How his pride would've stung in the years before, allowing himself to grow weaker and placid with naught to do but endure as he always had done. No armies to crush, no planets to conquer, nothing but his own reflection staring back at him in the water basin's he's both used and created by his own might until coming face to face with that Earth warrior. At times he's hated her, other he's admired her, right now.. he was at odds with himself as the vicious urge to keep fighting burned away at the meager reserves still remaining in his worn out frame. The pink of his tongue licked at the drop of sweat that drew too close to the corner of his lip; the salt ridden essence doing nothing to quench his thirst as a quivering chest gulped down entire lungfuls.
Then it happened.
His leg buckled to a knee, refusing to obey him to stand as his powerful frame nearly crumpled right there.
Rivers flowed down the sides of his temple, stinging at his eyes as his head fell between the peaks of shoulders. The weakness of Earth's gravitational pull had done more harm than he realized, driving his frame to a leaner physique with the years passing. A bitter snort exhaled as his head shook, flinging droplets off the drenched peaks of obsidian locks as his body overworked to keep himself upright and siphon that much needed air to starved tendons and muscle fibers. Stiff joints crackled and popped as he bent forward to plant a trembling palm into the ground below, a low growl exhaling softly before the desire to simply let go proved too much to resist.
Leaning to his side with his supporting arm acting as a cushion, the Brute rolled over to stare at the sky. Sprawled out, his jaw remained agape to draw in lungfuls, feeling the burn of the sun's rays sear against his cheek as he inhaled deeply and exhaled in a staggered breath before managing to croak out.
" .. I yield. " - Broly
@gazelessmenagerie
Five days had passed since Eve killed her counterpart, five days since another version of herself had dissolved beneath the merciless force of pink energy and left behind nothing but scorched earth and an uncomfortable silence. She had not mourned the woman, nor had she regretted killing her, because hesitation had never been something Eve afforded herself anymore. The hero had stood between Eve and what she believed was right, and Eve had answered with overwhelming force, tearing through every defensive construct her counterpart created until there was nothing left standing. Since then, Eve had carried the memory like a stone buried somewhere deep inside her mind, refusing to examine why the familiar face had bothered her more than any stranger’s death ever had. Now, five days later, that same ruthless certainty had driven her into another battle, except this time her opponent was something entirely different. Broly towered over her, battered and exhausted after an extended exchange that had transformed the surrounding landscape into a wasteland of shattered stone, pulverized earth, and enormous craters. Eve hovered above the devastation, bloodied and bruised herself, pink energy crawling violently across her arms as she stared down at the Saiyan with an expression devoid of mercy. She had fought her counterpart like an equal, but she had fought Broly like something she intended to break.
There had been no testing him, no careful probing for weaknesses, and certainly no concern for collateral damage once Eve realized what he could withstand. She had driven slabs of concrete through the air like artillery, transformed the ground beneath his feet into jagged restraints, and repeatedly reconstructed her own body whenever his blows managed to catch her. Every time Broly forced his way through one attack, Eve answered with something stronger, faster, and more vicious, manipulating the battlefield itself until the environment became an extension of her rage. “You’re stronger than I expected,” she admitted, her voice carrying through the dust as she compressed an enormous mass of debris into a dense projectile between her palms. She hurled it with enough force to send Broly crashing through several layers of ruined terrain, then immediately followed with a barrage of pink constructs that detonated against the ground around him. Eve didn’t wait to see whether he had recovered before attacking again, because unlike her heroic counterpart, she had no instinct telling her to give an enemy time to stand. Her eyes narrowed when Broly finally emerged from the devastation, and instead of admiration, something close to irritation crossed her face at the sight of him still moving. “Stay down.” The command carried no concern, only the cold frustration of someone who had already decided that the fight should have ended.
Broly charged anyway, and Eve barely managed to raise a barrier before his fist collided with it hard enough to fracture the construct from one end to the other. The impact sent her flying backward, but she twisted in midair and converted the force into momentum, stopping herself against a newly created platform before launching straight back toward him. Her fist connected with his jaw, and she immediately followed by wrapping his torso in bands of hardened pink matter before slamming him into the ground. Broly tore through them with raw strength, roaring as he surged upright, and Eve answered by increasing the density of the material around his limbs until the ground beneath him collapsed under the pressure. “I said stay down!” Her voice cracked across the battlefield as her power surged outward, ripping massive chunks of earth from the surrounding terrain and suspending them in the air. For several seconds, Broly disappeared beneath an avalanche of stone that Eve controlled with frightening precision, each piece striking around him as she deliberately denied him a clear path to escape. Yet when the dust finally cleared, he was still standing, swaying heavily but refusing to fall. Eve’s expression tightened, because she had spent years believing that humanity’s greatest flaw was its refusal to learn, and now this alien was demonstrating the exact same stubbornness she despised.
The realization only made her more aggressive. She launched herself forward, catching Broly across the chest with a concentrated burst that sent him skidding violently across the battlefield, and before he could regain his footing, Eve altered the composition of the ground beneath him into something far denser. His body sank into it under the sudden increase in weight, and Eve descended slowly through the settling dust, her expression frighteningly calm compared with the destruction surrounding her. “You don’t understand what you’re fighting.” Her eyes flicked toward the distant horizon, remembering the laboratory, her adoptive father’s hands, the years of isolation, and the revelation that her existence had been engineered for someone else’s purpose. “I’ve already killed someone who looked exactly like me.” The admission carried no pride, only a bleak certainty that told Broly exactly how little restraint remained between them. Eve raised one hand, and the ground around him began folding inward, not crushing him outright but trapping his massive frame beneath layers of reinforced material. “You think I’m going to hesitate because you’re tired?” Her fingers tightened, and the prison around him contracted as Broly strained against it with every remaining ounce of strength. “That’s what heroes do.”
For Eve, the battle had ceased being about winning several minutes ago. It had become a test of whether this impossible creature could force her to acknowledge a limit she had spent years removing from herself. Her mental blockers were gone, her abilities were no longer constrained by the subconscious fear that had once kept her power manageable, and every time Broly survived another attack, Eve pushed deeper into the frightening possibilities of what she could accomplish. She could change the battlefield, alter matter, create weapons, reconstruct herself, and turn almost anything around them into an instrument of destruction. “I won’t offer mercy.” The words came quietly as she hovered before him, her pink aura expanding until it illuminated the dust hanging in the air. Broly’s enormous hands finally broke through the restraints, and Eve’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing with renewed determination. She attacked immediately, striking him with successive waves of force that drove him backward across the ruined landscape, refusing to allow him even a moment to regain his balance.
Eventually, however, even Eve began noticing the signs of exhaustion in his movements. His breathing had become ragged, his attacks less coordinated, and his once explosive charges had become desperate attempts to keep himself upright. Eve remained airborne before him, breathing hard herself as sweat and dust streaked across her face, yet her power still crackled around her hands with enough intensity to continue. Broly’s leg finally buckled, dropping him to one knee, and Eve’s expression remained cold as she watched him struggle to rise. Then he collapsed onto his side, rolling onto his back as his chest heaved violently beneath the weight of exhaustion. “…I yield.” Eve stared at him for several seconds, almost offended by the simplicity of the words after everything they had endured. Her fingers remained raised, power gathering instinctively, and for one dangerous moment she genuinely considered finishing him anyway. Then something stopped her—not mercy exactly, but curiosity, because she wanted to understand why something this powerful had chosen to surrender when it could have kept fighting. Eve slowly lowered her hand, allowing the accumulated energy to disperse into harmless sparks around her fingers.
“You yield?” she repeated, almost incredulously, as though the concept itself had become foreign to her. She descended until her boots touched the fractured ground, staring down at Broly while the ruins around them continued to settle. Five days ago, she had killed another Eve because that woman had refused to step aside, and Eve had told herself afterward that the outcome proved everything she believed about humanity. But Broly had just given her something her counterpart never had: the opportunity to stop without having to die first. “Then stay in the dirt or I’ll make you into a corpse like her.” Her voice was still harsh, and there was no warmth in it, but the murderous intent that had dominated the battle finally receded. Eve turned away from him, leaving him alive not because she had suddenly rediscovered compassion, but because something about his surrender had forced an uncomfortable thought into the cracks of her worldview. Perhaps strength wasn’t measured by how long someone could keep destroying things. Perhaps, sometimes, strength was knowing when there was nothing left to prove. Eve hated that possibility almost as much as she hated the fact that she couldn’t completely dismiss it.
