Golden Boy
Hell was not, by Raditsu's estimation, all that different from life. It was a bleak place, yes, red skied and rocky and chill, the very air oppressively heavy, but in this it was not all that different from his race's native planet. The old King held Court there, in Hell, perched on a red stone above his generals and retainers and the hangers on.
Bardock was more than welcomed at the King's feet, well within that golden circle - his visions, which had only grown more powerful since his death, made him the most sought after raconteur in the Underworld. Raditsu was not. He kept his distance from the crowd circled around the king, though not so far away that he couldn't make out the rowdy and boisterous conversation.
"My son," Bardock said, for perhaps the thousandth time since he'd first teased the events on Nameksei out to his avid listeners, blow by blow. "My son," he said, "is the greatest warrior the universe has ever seen. I wish that all of you could see what I have seen personally. Karrotto is magnificent."
Ever since Raditsu had gotten to Hell, more than twenty years behind almost everyone else other than Nappa, the other Saiyajin had acted like he had a stink on him. There was not a single man among them who would have reacted differently to finding that his own blood had gone native, turned his back on his own family and race, but the rules were different when it came treatment of their golden boy. Bardock, never actually having laid eyes on Karrotto since he was an infant, had convinced practically every Saiyajin in Hell that he was their redeemer-in-waiting, destined to win them their blood revenge. First-hand knowledge of the boy's mawkishness was nothing against such blind faith.
"Ah, but you'll remember," the King said, raising a finger to punctuate his words, "that it was my grandson who actually killed the tyrant." He said it wryly, because it was transparently true that Bardock had only let this little fact slip out by mistake.
"He did okay," Bardock allowed. Being dead and therefore unkillable had, Raditsu had noticed, a sort of democratizing effect on the power structure; in Hell, his father spoke to the King in a way that he never would have gotten away with in life. "But that Trunks is just a goofy looking guy, I have got to tell you. My son, on the other hand, is a remarkably handsome man.
"And talented," he added. "And so strong. A father couldn't have cause to be prouder."
He doesn't fight for you, Raditsu wanted to say, He thinks he's too good for us. If he was here right now he'd renounce you without a second thought. But there was no point in trying to convince them of a reality they didn't want to see. Karrotto would always be their hero, and he - Raditsu - the disappointment who'd failed to recognize greatness when he came face to face with it.