For I'm just Saiyan's music challenge. Bulma picks up the "head" of one her her droids. Oil drips from its "neck" to the ground, and in the red light of the Gravity Room it almost looks like blood. Bloodthirsty. Cutthroat. Precise. *Precision training. Accuracy. That's all this is.* Bulma hopes, the alternative too frightening for her to admit.