Metal
Chapter 83: And We Wither and Fade
A/N: Sorry for this chapter's delay! The world got pretty crazy since the last time we've conveyed! Everyone, stay safe and stay home!
The house was on the edge of the city, nothing more than a one-story box of a building located on a long and windy road. West City, like its counterparts in the North, South, and East, was known for its extremely dense city center and almost rural outer districts. Here, Bulma could spot two, maybe three other houses among the small-growth trees and shrubs that surrounded her. There was nothing notable about this street.
That was probably the point. Slowly, Bulma redirected her attention forward. She was standing on a doorstep, hand curled into a fist and waiting to knock on a mahogany-colored door in front of her. The house beyond it was as normal as anything else on the block, but this had been the address in the employee directory. She knew following up on this lead was a pandora's box: it could never be closed once open. Nevermind that she had no idea how friendly or forthcoming this person was going to be. Her left hand was fidgeting with the taser in her jacket pocket for a reason.
But all available evidence pointed her to this place and her doing this. The only thing that would have stopped her from knocking on this door was herself- and so she knocked. Two crisp, clear, whole wooden notes sounded before a curtain in a window to her right moved incrementally. Realizing that she had been watched, she was stepping back as the door cracked open. From the building's gloom, two gray eyes peered at her.
'Hello?'
She pressed her back heel down to steady herself. 'Hello,' she started, forcing herself to smile. 'I'm a representative of the Capsule Corp. corporation, looking for-'
'Bulma Briefs.' Those gray eyes continued to eye her no less suspiciously. 'I know of you. What do you want?'
'Well… ' Bulma realized that her left hand had gripped the taser. She took a breath, released her grip on it, and pulled her hand from her pocket. 'I was looking to talk to Dr. Frappe about his work. See-'
The door slammed shut, startling Bulma into hopping. For a split second she thought that was the end of that idea, but before she had even landed she heard metal clinking from behind the door and soon enough the door swung out fully. An aging man, well into the latter half of his life and with the balding pate to match, released his clutch on the doorknob and shifted to his right- inviting Bulma into her home.
'I am Dr. Frappe,' he said, his gray eyes less pointed, 'and I am happy to talk to the Capsule Corp. Heiress, herself.'
She smiled slightly at his last comment, and with a gentle gesture of his left arm, she followed him inside. It really was darker inside- this house had very few windows, and those that it did had were swaddled by thick curtains. She could barely make out that she had stepped into a living room, which stretched to her right and took up most of that side of the house. Forward, where Dr. Frappe had gone off towards, a bend in the building led into another, even darker room.
'Please close the door behind you,' Dr. Frappe called out from deeper inside. 'I don't like to lose heat.'
She did as he asked, and spying a coat rack, freed herself of her jacket. For a brief second she doubted whether it was a smart idea to leave her taser here while she ventured further in- but from their brief interaction, she didn't get an off vibe from him.
She put her jacket back on. That evidence was nowhere near strong enough to warrant disarming herself.
As she followed Dr. Frappe's voice, she noticed that the house really was plain; the insides were all dark wood and old paint, and the furniture sagged like they had been sat on for too long. It was hard to believe that a project leader at Capsule Corp.- a job that paid very well- would be living in a place like this. The kitchen she walked into was darker and even older than the rest of the house: a pot-bellied stove, the kind you threw wood into, took up one corner of the room, surrounded by stained outlines of where old cupboards and cabinets must have been. There was a small fridge, a rudiment ceramic sink, a mud-colored counter, and lastly a rickety folding table, pulled out and flanked by two wooden chairs.
Dr. Frappe settled into the chair farthest from her and gestured for her to sit. Somehow, and from somewhere, he had produced a steaming cup of…
'What is this?' She asked once she was seated, picking up the mug. 'Coffee?'
'Tea,' he informed her.
'Oh.' She eyed the mug and set it down. 'You don't have coffee?'
'Only tea.' His eyes narrowed incrementally. 'Now that we're comfortable- why are you here, exactly?'
Bulma drew her hands into a neat fold, interlocking her fingers. 'Well… I wanted to ask you some questions about your time at Capsule Corp.' She produced a smile. 'You retired a few years ago, right?'
'I did.'
'And you were involved in the biomechanics division, correct? You were the team leader?'
'I was.'
Those gray eyes gave nothing away, nor did his face or posture. He simply sat at the other end of the table, hands clasped neatly, leaning forward with enough interest to be respectful but not too much to be confrontational. 'And what else?' he asked.
She had hoped to notice something by now, but sometimes you just had to take the plunge; lording over the mug, she met Dr. Frappe's gaze. 'I want to be very clear: I know you stole from the company.' Her nose flared. 'Do you agree?'
His gray eyes didn't flinch. 'An odd question. Do you have any proof?'
'You worked with the Red Ribbon Army, didn't you?'
It was hard to make out the aging lines on his face in the low light, but with that question, she finally saw a web spring into sight. 'And what does that have to- to do- with anything?' He said, something sharp creeping into his voice.
Bulma continued to stare at him. 'You didn't answer my question.'
'I had jobs before Capsule Corp.,' he said testily. 'Didn't do me much good,' he gestured to the room around them, 'considering how I'm living now.'
'So you-'
Dr. Frappe stood, seized by sudden anger. 'To think I live like this!' he seethed, face reddening in the gloom. 'After all the work- all I sacrificed- for causes that blew up, or forgot me- all of it!' he yelled, jerking out of his seat and slamming his fists down on the table. 'It's a crime!'
Bulma had made sure to hold his gaze through this. It was odd- he kept looking at her. Like he was asking her to engage with his frustration, his fury, at something she wasn't aware of. 'What crime?'
His breath just touched her as he huffed, inflating and deflating his body like a bellows feeding into a forge. Then something else crossed his creased face and he sat back down, sweeping his hands off the table and collecting them in his lap. 'I don't think you care.'
'I care if you do.'
'Really?'
Bulma's chair creaked as she crossed her legs and settled in. 'I've got nowhere else to be.'
A series of emotions flipped through Dr. Frappe's face, surprise and suspicion and relief whirling back-and-forth like a never-ending sea tossing a dingey. 'For the record,' he said after a long sigh, 'I never stole. I passed something along.'
'Passed what along?'
'A corpse.'
He had admitted it- just like that. She gaped even as she leaned forward, wringing out another noisy creak from her chair. 'You did?'
Eyes falling to his lap, he nodded. 'To a former colleague of mine, Dr. Gero. He's- he's the only person I know who's with the Red Ribbon Army still, as far as I know.'
Bulma felt her throat tighten. 'So they are still around,' she murmured. 'But, uh… you said you passed along a corpse? You didn't steal it?'
The old and worn person across from her fell silent, grew motionless, and Bulma sensed the need to change topics. 'So…' she tried, 'why did you do this?'
Dr. Frappe closed his eyes and steadied his breath. 'A long time ago I was a scientist in the Red Ribbon Army. Dr. Gero and I were friends in university, and after graduation, he was able to get me a position at the private research firm he worked at. Specifically-' he paused, weighing his words, '-we worked on… I guess "androids" would be the right turn. Fully synthetic people.'
He rolled in his chair, eyes shooting off to some distant memory. 'Mind you, they were never that advanced. Best they could do was follow simple commands and perform rudimentary movement- at first. But Aladdeus Gero was a genius,' Dr. Frappe stressed, lifting a finger and pressing it to the table. 'Frankly, he was better than me. He rose through the organization. The people at the top loved him. And eventually, our work diverged.' He leaned back, approaching a state of rest. 'I was relocated to a secondary base, and I heard less and less of him until one day I realized our contact had ended altogether.'
None of what he just said- how he talked about the past- made sense to Bulma. 'You… you do know the Red Ribbon Army was a paramilitary organization, right?' she asked. 'From what you said, you make it sound like… I don't know…'
'My work never hurt anyone, if that's what you're implying,' Dr. Frappe stated. 'It was obvious what the Red Ribbon Army was if you spent enough time with them, but my research was not combat-oriented like Dr. Gero's was. I worked on a single model,' his mouth curled into a small frown, '-and I can guarantee he never did anyone any harm.'
Considering what he must have been complicit with, Bulma doubted his logic, but she wasn't here to grill the man- at least in that way. She leaned in further. 'So, you work with the Red Ribbon Army and then…'
'I left. I worked at Capsule Corp. And I passed a corpse along to Dr. Gero. Now please leave.'
'Huh?' Bulma's head whipped back. 'What?'
'That is all you are entitled to know. I did not steal from you.'
'But why did you pass along that corpse?' Bulma asked, bewildered.
Dr. Frappe's chair squealed as he stood. 'Get out.'
'Are you serious?'
The table shifted slightly as Dr. Frappe smacked his left hand against its side. 'Get out!'
The effused darkness of the house became much more ominous once its owner was yelling at her. Reluctantly, Bulma stood, careful to push her chair neatly back, and kept one eye on Dr. Frappe as she walked towards the front door. It occurred to her that she could rush the old man with her taser and strip the house for answers while he was laid out, but Bulma figured that was an option best left to the end- or one of her super-powered friends.
Another and much better idea popped into her head as she stood on the house's doorstep yet again, waiting to hear a door close behind her. Without turning, she asked: 'That secondary base… the one you worked at… it was Muscle Tower, right?'
She heard the door creak to a stop. Half of Dr. Frappe's face was visible, and half of it was staring at her. 'It was,' he acknowledged.
Meeting his gaze as she turned, she noticed there was something pinched in his expression- something similar to how he looked like when he first bridged a secret to her. It was promising. 'And you worked on robotics?'
Somehow, even more suspicion reached his eyes. 'Yes…'
Bulma called on her biggest, most disarming smile she had. 'I should have known! I'm speaking with the creator of Eighter, himself!'
A wave of white washed over Dr. Frappe's skin. 'You… knew Eighter?' He said in a pinched voice. 'How?'
'I knew… his bits and pieces,' Bulma said, bending her smile. 'What could be found along with everything else that Capsule Corp. rescued from the ruins of Muscle Tower. But I wouldn't even have known what- who I was looking at if there hadn't been such a lovingly crafted nameplate on his central unit.' She peered at him. 'Eighter. That was your handwriting, wasn't it?'
The mask of age, lines upon lines upon lines, traveled across his face 'He was… my greatest and most human creation,' Dr. Frappe managed, grip wobbling on the door. 'He was… he was everything to me. And…' His hands went stiff, knuckles whitened. 'And…'
'I know,' Bulma said softly, matching the anguish in his eyes. 'I know what happened. I know about the boy with the tail. If it's any consolation- he's dead.'
'It is not, but I appreciate the knowledge,' Dr. Frappe murmured. 'I… I wish you could have seen him alive. He was never meant to fight. The Red Ribbon Army threw him into combat when the situation became desperate, against my wishes… and he was lost.' He shook his head back and forth. 'What the Red Ribbon Army did was evil. I was glad that boy destroyed them and that entire blasted tower. It was deserved.'
He glanced away, hiding some of his face with his hand. Something wet pearled on his chin. 'I knew Capsule Corp. had taken what remained from the ruins, so I moved to West City and became an employee of yours. Thinking that, maybe one day, I'd be able to- I don't know- I thought so much about Eighter, and what could be-'
A terrible choking sound reached her, the ring of a sob willed into the air. Bulma felt- she felt a little bad. She had lied a little; there was barely anything left of Eighter beyond the nameplate and a name to assign to a pile of scrap, wires, metal and oil scraped out of a hole in the snow. This man must have really thought there was something redeemable to move halfway across the world and throw himself into his work.
But she had to remind herself that she wasn't here to wallow in another person's despair. She had confirmed a moderately bad scenario- some remnant of the Red Ribbon Army had gotten ahold of Raditz's corpse. What were the implications of that? She didn't have the slightest clue. She would have to grab her father and lock themselves in a study and figure this-
'Wait.'
She hadn't even realized that she was halfway down the doorstep, her mind's momentum moving her back towards the heart of the city and Capsule Corp. She looked back. 'What?'
Dr. Frappe still lingered in the doorway, haunting it and the house beyond it like a ghost. 'I never intended to answer him,' he muttered. 'It was barely anything- just a desperate plea for my time or money. He said he was going to rebuild the Red Ribbon Army.' A nasty laugh rocked him. 'How oblivious can you get? What did I owe them? They murdered Eighter. I had no intention…' he shook his head. 'I had no intention… and then…'
As hard as it was for him to do, he lifted his head and met her gaze. 'A man showed up here nearly five years ago. It was dark, rainy. I… had received a message from Dr. Gero just that day. Asking for money. Resources. He mentioned…'
Bulma's eyes narrowed. 'Mentioned what?'
Dr. Frappe's gray eyes wavered. 'I was given a capsule by that stranger. Told to pass it along to whoever was interested- use it as a bargaining chip to get something I want.' He frowned, struggling to recall the memory. 'I didn't know what to make of it… until it hit me.'
'What? What hit you?'
He didn't reply immediately- and in that gap Bulma read the sorrow on his face as well as anything else today. Her mouth curled. 'Eighter. You used what you had to get Eighter back.'
'Something like that,' he said bitterly. 'I can't remember now. Gero made promises. I had money but no lab to do the work in. He said he had a lab, but needed money. So we made a deal. I gave him what I had and funneled money to him so that he'd recreate Eighter.'
'Yeah?'
'Yes. And, of course, he cut all contact with me once he got what he wanted,' Dr. Frappe added. 'He broke his promise.' He sighed. 'I'm sorry. I don't know where the lab is. He refused to let me join him. Gero's secretive, always has, always will be. I wish I could tell you more.'
'No-' Bulma waved away his concerns, '-you told me plenty. You know… if you need a lab, you're more than welcome to swing by Capsule Corp.'
He gave her a tired look. 'Okay. Thank you.'
She held herself in front of that house, listening to far-off birds chirp. One last question crossed her mind; she felt she could ask one last question.
'This man…' Bulma's gaze ambled to him, aiming with the smallest amount of focus, '... what did he look like?'
Dr. Frappe stared at her. 'Who?'
'The one who gave you the corpse. The one who, presumably, stole from Capsule Corp.'
'Him? Like I said, it was dark and rainy.' He scratched his chin. 'I can't remember much besides that massive burn scar above his right eye.'
'Oh.'
...
Oh.
0o0o0
Two knocks sounded on the wooden door. Rush wearily lifted his head? 'Yes?'
'We're coming in,' Chi-Chi's voice announced. 'Us two… and two of our friends.'
'Okay.'
The door clicked and Chi-Chi, trailed by Yamcha and then Puar and Oolong, walked into the room. Rush eyed the last two but eventually dropped his head back into his hands.
'You know them, too?' Chi-Chi asked softly.
Wordless, Rush nodded.
A series of glances shot from Yamcha and Chi-Chi to Puar and Oolong, but it was Puar who got the ball rolling by nudging Yamcha with her elbow. 'Right,' he muttered, drawing his hands from behind him. A plain manila folder rested on his palms, like a weight balancing on a scale. 'Rush?'
Their guest lifted his gaze once more. 'What?' He noticed what Yamcha was holding. 'What's that?'
'We understand this is all difficult for you,' Chi-Chi interjected, stepping closer. As she grabbed Rush's attention, Yamcha followed her lead and moved forward as well. 'Knowing… trying to remember… it's a mess, right?' She flashed a pained, sympathetic smile. `We get that. It's tough. But keep in mind that, with all you've said- by telling us that that there's some part of the Red Ribbon Army out there, who did what they did to you- that means that our friends are in a difficult spot, too. We've got some bad blood with those guys. They might try to do stuff to us- or worse.'
She halted, frowning at Rush's tight, closed posture. 'You need to remember,' Chi-Chi urged. 'Something. Anything. Something we can use- a place, or maybe another name you know that we can track down-'
'Dr. Gero isn't enough?' Rush murmured, anxious from her questioning.
'We want to be sure,' Yamcha said in a cautioned voice. 'We want to be… safe, if that makes sense. Considering how you appeared, and, well…'
He tapered off, shaking his head at himself. 'Point is, we want to trust you, Rush- we just need you to give us something else. Something tangible. Something we can investigate… with you.'
Rush eyed him. 'With me?'
'Because you're the key to helping us,' Chi-Chi spoke up. 'Everything that helps us figure out what's going on is inside there,' she pointed to his head, 'in some form or another. Even if your memories are scrambled… there has to be something, right?'
'Something,' Yamcha echoed.
Rush breathed, his exhale closing his eyes, and his head dipped. 'It's… so difficult to remember. The chances of me remembering something… that's only marginally better than flying around the planet blindly, looking for someplace familiar.'
Chi-Chi's eyebrows rose as she glanced at Yamcha. 'And you're saying that's a bad idea?' she asked.
'It's probably the best I could do.' Rush laughed mirthlessly through his nose and placed his head in his hand again. 'Just roaming around for something I could recognize. Some use I am…'
'Rush,' Yamcha said, 'you might be onto something.' He glanced again at Chi-Chi before moving closer. 'We're pretty fast flyers, as I'm sure you know. Not to speak badly about your own skill, of course!'
Yamcha's levity caused Rush to look up. Wariness rested in his eyes. 'I can fly… but it seems like a waste of time.'
'I don't think that,' Chi-Chi jumped in. 'I think it could be a pretty good use of our time, actually.'
Yamcha held out the folder. 'And we can start here, with these places- places our friends behind us think are related to the Red Ribbon Army's resurgence.'
Rush stared at the proffered folder, still doubtful, but let it slide into his hand. Photos flipped through the air. 'You think the Red Ribbon Army did these- these abductions?' He asked, his eyes furiously glancing over the folder's contents.
'That's what we think,' 'Oolong said from the back, gesturing to himself and Puar. 'We're Oolong and Puar, by the way.'
Rush shot his gaze at them, gave a quick nod, and then turned his attention back to the folder. 'I see. Alright.' He stood, dragging himself off the bed. 'I understand. This is… something I might be able to help with.' He frowned sharply. 'I hope this will help you two trust me a little more.'
'I know doing this will help with that,' Yamcha stressed.
Chi-Chi's head bounced with agreement as she accepted the folder from Rush. 'And it'll help us figure out how much trouble we're all in.' She glanced at Yamcha. 'I'm ready to go now. Same for Yamcha. And…' she turned. 'Puar? Oolong?'
'We don't need to be dragged to a potential Red Ribbon hotbed, thank you!' Puar said quickly, chuckling nervously alongside Oolong in the doorway. 'Especially if you're thinking of knocking the front doors down.'
The sound of fabric sliding filled the air. 'Yeah,' Yamcha said, tightening his obi, 'that's exactly what I'm thinking.'
0o0o0
The gray-brown, rusted, pitted, generally decrepit space station hung before the backdrop of space like some failing, dying satellite ready to fall out of orbit. Only problem for that future, however, was that there was no nearby planet, and the light-blue star anchoring this system was so far away that it was barely bigger than every other dot scattered among the black.
So it was also really friggin' dark, and this graveyard of a station would exist for however long it remained untouched by anything living.
'Which won't be long,' Bardock thought aloud to himself, leaning on the port window.
His son rose out of the pilot chair behind him, 'Won't be long until what?'
'Until hell breaks loose here and this thing is blown to smithereens.' Bardock's squint turned into a frown. 'Sit back down, Kakarot. Take us around to the station's other side.'
Per his instruction, the ship around them shook a little and their perspective slowly changed; the segmented station, rounder and more spherical at the top and winding and thinner towards the bottom, spun as their ship lapped around it, circling around it like a tiny, buzzing insect. In retrospect, it was good they hadn't tried to scrounge for any scrap metal during their retreat- nothing he could have welded together would have been tough enough to enter this station, as run-down as it was… in the place he was thinking, at least…
'Alright,' Kakarot grunted as he pulled a lever back. 'We've circled and parked. What now?'
'Now?' Bardock's eyes ran up and down the station's "back". They were firmly in this thing's minuscule shadow- which made it even harder to see. 'We plan out what's the best spot for us to board at.'
'Yeah?'
For a second Kakarot thought his father would take his left arm out of the crude sling they had made, but instead, he used his right to jab at his forehead. 'Think,' Bardock stressed to his son. 'We have two criteria: what gets us closest to our goal, and what makes it harder for the goons chasing us to catch-up? Wherever we enter the station, we have to position ourselves close to where we need to get and far away from where Vegeta and his cronies will enter.'
'Alright.' Leaning forward, Kakarot nearly pressed his face to the window. 'Think that round part at the top is good?'
'Nah- that's the cargo bay. There'll probably be a lot of junk there to get around. Pass.'
Kakarot studied some metal, fading stalks sticking out of the station's bulge. 'What about those compartments attached to it, then?'
'That's probably where the operations center would be,' Bardock answered, 'which would be helpful, because it'd tell us definitively where the archives would be, but would also make us run into Vegeta's posse while doubling back.'
Something from the console blinkered as Kakarot, scowling, backed away from the window. 'You don't know where the information we're looking for is stored?' He questioned.
'How would I? We're not on the station yet.'
'Well, can't you figure that out by scanning the station with the ship?'
'You think this hunk of junk can do anything close to useful? Its sensors are nonfunctional.'
'Excuse me for hoping,' Kakarot said petulantly. 'I guess I'm not the seasoned intergalactic space warrior.'
Bardock flashed a smile. 'Right- that would be me.' His father's good arm took him by his shoulders so that they were side-by-side, facing the station. 'So here's what I'm thinking- we want to get in someplace that's not too far away from the rest of the station, but not so obvious that we're followed step-by-step. So…'
Kakarot waited for a sentence that never came. He shrugged off his father's arm. 'Well?... Are you going to tell me?'
Without any prompting, and, without answering his question, Bardock walked to the cockpit's exit, stopped in the doorway, and began waving for him to follow with his good arm. 'Come on!'
'Don't we need to pilot in the ship?'
Smirking, Bardock shook his head. 'Kakarot, Kakarot, Kakarot…' he turned and exited the cockpit. 'Come on.'
The cockpit's main console blinked again, but by then Kakarot was already halfway out, ducking slightly as he went through the doorway so that his hair wouldn't brush against the metal. He had learned enough lessons about letting any part of his body touch old crap.
Beyond the cockpit was their makeshift quarters; bedrolls and empty food packets littered what had once been a staging area for rapid assaults. Ragged harnesses and uniforms clung to the room's side like spiderwebs. His father had stopped at the very edge of the room just before the actual assault ramp, which was folded up and sealed by the ship's pressure door. Kakarot walked to his side.
'If you want to tip off our pursuers to where we entered,' Bardock said, slowing his speech for emphasis, 'we do as you instructed. However- if you want to be sneaky…'
Bardock slowly lifted his right hand to the master controls for the ramp. 'We can… float over.'
'Float?' Kakarot repeated, not quite understanding. 'Like, on the water?'
'Son- raise your barrier.'
'Huh?'
A slight shift in air pressure preceded a ring of blue lighting around Bardock, hemming to his body like a film. 'Son?'
Kakarot stared at his father, then nodded. A similarly tight aura shot up around Kakarot, and he took a deep breath. 'Okay. Barrier up. What now?'
His smile shifting away, Bardock finally pressed a switch to his right. The ramp before them rumbled, shook- and then without any warning the pressure door swung open, expelling the ship's air and them along with it.
The ship blurred past him as black-and-dim shapes swung through Kakarot's vision, spinning as much as him as he felt himself flying through space. He gasped- almost lost control of his barrier- and then he felt a firm hand grip him by the back of his armor. With his mind still spinning, Bardock turned him, tapped a finger to his chest, and gestured to a darkened shape in the distance- the station.
As Kakarot felt the first real sense of scale sweep over him, his father held his gaze and conveyed a simple command with his focused, deliberate eyes: do as I do. Light appeared around Bardock's feet, and angling himself towards the station, suddenly took off towards it like the ship they had ridden here on. Starry blue energy drifted and wafted in his wake, and before it dispersed completely, Kakarot saw the solar winds gently pull it to his left.
The example was clear. Concentrating, Bardock tipped forward, felt heat collect around his legs, and released a small amount of energy.
And he flew. Without something below him, to his sides, or above him, for that matter, Kakarot felt an undeniable sense of… weightlessness? No, it was something more than that- something more than how he physically felt. It was freedom in the best possible terms. This entire trip, for all its aimlessness for where they were going and strains of living out of a shuttle, had given him a chance to see and do a lot he hadn't been able to do while on Earth. His father wasn't him, and he disagreed with him, and probably had put them into this exact situation with his questionable leadership- but he had been there for Kakarot. He had given some room to think. That was… good, actually. In the past, he had hated the moments when his only company was his mind. That was still true now… but, for whatever reason, having another person silently thinking alongside him, guiding him, made it better.
Kakarot spied where his father had landed on the station's exterior, and with a calm and measured breath, he set off after him.
0o0o0
Monitors deep within underneath the arctic flickered with light, refracting off of old metal and person-wide cables, as Dr. Wheelo's brain bubbled up and down in his tank. As of late their base had grown considerably, augmented by cameras and sensors that Wheelo used to keep watch over his growing realm. Rooms were outfitted, cells elaborated, research increased… and, apparently, intruders added.
'Kochin…' Wheelo's modulated voice rang out through the darkened central chamber. 'They're inside.'
His assistant's dull gray head caught a strand of light as the sickly looking old man pulled himself away from his workbench. 'Hmm? What did you say, Dr. Wheelo?'
'The two you met in Jingle Village. They're here.'
'They are?'
Wheelo kept his patience as Kochin ambled over to a set of monitors and consoles, leaned over them, and then broke his squint with a hop. 'So they are!' he acclaimed.
'Kochin- why are they here?'
His assistant swung his attention back to the massive tank set into the center of the room. 'Could be they stumbled onto their place.' He scratched his chin. 'Could be they tracked the bio-warriors after the kidnapping.'
'Kidnapping?' Wheelo repeated. 'We were still doing that? I thought we had enough people.'
'Well, you can never have too many,' Kochin said, sliding his hands into his pockets. 'There's a word for that. Over… ahh, damn it…'
'Kochin,' Wheelo's voice interjected, 'that doesn't explain how they stumbled onto our bio-warriors in the first place.'
The gray man pursed his lips. 'They probably tracked us from Jingle Village.'
'Jingle Village?' Wheelo's brain stilled for a moment. 'The village you met the two intruders at?'
'That's the one.'
'You kidnapped their village?' Wheelo asked, aghast. 'Why?'
'For leverage!' Kochin exclaimed, wheeling back to the consoles and monitors behind him and tapping away on a keyboard. 'We needed something to deter them from attacking us, after all.'
'But… they're attacking us right now!'
Kochin paused. 'Yes, well,' he resumed his speedy typing, 'it seems they're doing that to get their friends and family back. But how was I supposed to know they'd revisit Jingle Village a few days after I masterfully convinced them to leave?'
'Why didn't you tell me this?' Wheelo asked, increasingly irate.
'I was waiting until we had finished moving their friends and family into the holding cells.'
'Have they?'
Kochin waited a second before giving his response. 'Yes.'
'Well, that's a relief,' Dr. Wheelo said mockingly. 'Now all we have to worry about are our guests.'
'Oh, grow up,' Kochin chided him as he began to furiously pull levers and flick switches. 'Our base needed a christening, anyway!'
0o0o0
Plunging through a wide, darkened chamber, Retu spotted a red aura and dove to the ground. He landed awkwardly, opened his mouth-
'Ssssh,' Suno said, shushing him with her back. 'We're being watched.'
Retu stopped and tried to discern something of the surrounding darkness. Whatever size or type of room they were in, it was pitch-black. 'I would have guessed.
'I mean really watched,' Suno said, tensing. Her head quirked slightly to the right. 'In fact…'
In the time it took to blink a red blur took Suno's place as something flashing zoomed through where she had stood. Red light hopped and jumped higher into the air, dancing like sudden streaks of a paintbrush, until Suno reappeared fully and lifted a hand above her. A great wave of light flooded from her palm, cascading and pushing away the darkness.
The room was filled with balls. Sharpened, metal, spiked and floating balls. And in the last gasp of visibility one veered and spun directly towards them as if commanded. Then the light went out again.
Retu rolled backward as something crashed into the ground near him, slamming together concrete and metal. One phrase droned in his head: Lethal ball pit!
The whissh of something passing near his head ignited his aura and flipped him forward into a handstand. 'SUNO?' He yelled.
'I KNOW!' High above him, air sliced back-and-forth as Suno desperately dodged the slivers of reflected light hurtling towards her. There were way too many. She shot a blast of rapid ki, obliterating an oncoming ball, but two balls like it swung into its path and slammed into her guard. Ribbons of skin and blood scattered into the dark to either side of her, choking her mind with a deafening pain. She hissed, watching the balls skitter to her left and right, and a thought hit her.
She flung out her arms, aura curling around them, and threw out her thickened aura. Two balls crashed into her from behind, jolting her forward, but failed to touch her and harmlessly bounced off her aura.
Judging by how much she was panting as three more balls smacked against her barrier, this wasn't sustaintable. If she could just clear this-
Suno's eyes widened. She glanced down to the ground and spotted Retu's aura skirting past blotches of the minefield of balls that laid between them. Grimacing, she crossed her battered arms in front of her and exhaled. Plumes of red shot out from her nose.
'RETU- I'M GOING NUCLEAR!'
Far, far off- ('what? what'd you say?')
Five more balls that she could see rushed towards her, spinning through the air, and with another great exhale, Suno closed her eyes and released her barrier.
'ARCTIC WAVE!'
A wave of energy, blue and red, erupted from Suno's body, slamming and brushing aside the balls hurdling. Without her eyes to guide her, she listened as metal clanked, slammed, crashed into each other until a chorus of plunking sounds, like a million stakes being stabbed into the ground, reached her ears. She waited, collected her breath, and strained her eyes searching for any further balls rushing towards her… but none came.
Then someone, somewhere must have found a light-switch, because white fluorescent light flooded into the room. She was amazed- and frankly terrified- by how many spiked balls she could see wedged into the wall, trapped even as whatever powered them futilely tried to wiggle free. Casting her gaze to the ground, she spotted Retu flat on his ass- in one piece. A breath she hadn't known she was holding left her.
She appeared near him and helped him uncouple from the ground. A spiked ball had come dangerously close to taking his head off. 'You alright?'
He looked a little dazed. 'Yeah-' he let her help him up, '-sure. Yeah. Hey-'
'Suno!' Retu stared at the scores of cuts- some very deep- that ran across her forearms. 'You're-'
'Hurt, yeah, whatever,' Suno grunted. 'Not much I can do about that now.'
'We should have gotten senzu beans,' Retu chided her. 'We shouldn't have jumped in here without help!'
Suno's face knotted, reddened. 'Well, if I had known the first room we'd hit would be a ball pit of death, then-'
'Stop!' A voice suddenly crackled into the room, cutting through their argument. 'Cease and desist! You are trespassing!'
They both glanced around and found the source- near the room's other end, beside a hallway led deeper inside, was a large rectangular speaker.
'Who is this?' Retu called in that direction, head craning.
'Unimportant! Leave- or, at the very least, surrender!'
Retu and Suno glanced at each other. 'Why?' She asked.
'Why?' The speaker replied, incensed that it was forced to explain itself. 'Why- why, because, your friends and family are with me! Yes- stop now, or we'll kill them!'
Suno's gaze tightened. 'Is that so?'
'Yes! I mean it-'
Without any warning, Suno flicked her hand and exploded the speaker with a small red ball of ki. Metal scraps bloomed into the air, patterning against walls and flooring, carrying with them the last echoes of a still going sentence.
'Suno?' Retu asked, his frustration recapturing his voice. 'Gonna explain that one?''
'They're not going to kill them,' she said, frowning as she lowered her hand. 'Otherwise… they would have reasoned with us from the beginning, or have left us some kind of random ransom note at Jingle Village. I don't think they expected us to show up- so they were planning on using them whether or not we knew.'
'And if they decide we'll do more damage than however much their plans will be set back by killing their captives?'
Suno seemed to roll that thought around in her head. 'I didn't say that we shouldn't move quickly.'
0o0o0
Kochin's glossy gray eyes followed the intruders' hazy, flickering images recede and vanish around a corridor corner. At a loss, he began to scratch his bald scalp. '...They're not stopping. Weird.'
A blare of noise erupted from the room's center, nearly throwing him onto the console. 'Get Dr. Gero on the line!' Dr. Wheelo roared, his brain bubbling in his tank. 'Now!'
0o0o0
Craggy mountains and hills rolled by underneath them, some tall enough to spear upward to embrace the sky. The air was cold, chilly, and harsh wind blew against them as Rush led them across a dreary and harsh landscape. Though she had learned long ago to shield herself with her ki, Chi-Chi occasionally still wiped her wrist against her eyes, wicking away misty liquid so that she could see. Something about her was off.
As she drew her arm away again, another one brushed against her side. Yamcha placed a hand on her. 'You okay?'
'I'm fine,' she said, turning her head slightly while blinking against the wind. Her glossy black hair billowed in the wind past her multi-colored ceramic armor like a free-moving flag. 'Distracted, mostly.'
With much less firm garb and hair as her, Yamcha's orange gi- identical to the Turtle School except for the lack of any symbol on its front or back or an undershirt- pressed against his muscled body and his stubborn, rigid, short-cut hair. 'Distracted about what?'
Chi-Chi momentarily glanced forward at their guide. 'All of this,' she muttered. 'After all these years… I still can't believe they're back.'
'It's difficult,' Yamcha agreed. 'They've been quiet for a long time.'
'They've also had a lot of time to prepare.' She frowned into the wind. 'Preparing to do what, though? What needs a decade to plan? Why not attack us when a lot of us were off-Earth, either dead or on Namek?'
'I don't know,' Yamcha muttered. Chi-Chi saw his vision shift forward. 'I'm hoping we can find some answers soon.'
Flying about fifty feet ahead of them, Rush seemed nervous, much the same as he had been since his confession. Every so often he would glance to his right, gaze brushing over some far-off snow-white mountains, but would inevitably draw back to their straightforward path. House to house from place to place. So far they had found no evidence and no tracks. Whoever had disappeared had done just that. If the half-eaten meals and unfolded laundry was anything to go by, it had happened quickly, too.
'I'm hoping he can give us some answers,' Chi-Chi said, drawing back Yamcha's gaze.
'You think there's something he isn't telling us?'
'Whether he knows it or not, yes.' She flew a bit closer to him. 'We both know he's dangerous- to himself and others. We just have to be careful to not let him out of our sight and keep him from being exposed to any potential… harms.'
'The ones we discussed?'
'Anything that would disturb his frame of mind more,' Chi-Chi reminded him.
Yamcha's face pulled towards Chi-Chi. 'You think all that is necessary?'
She stopped just short of scowling at him. 'I think- hold on.'
In front of them, Rush slowed and started scanning the horizon. Matching him, they slowed and drew up.
'We're stopping?' Yamcha asked. 'What's up?'
Worn lines appeared in Rush's face, flipping his generally youthful appearance to something much older, searching. 'I think…' his eyes narrowed. 'I think I remember this place.'
'Here?' Chi-Chi looked down to remind herself of how far up they were. 'You recognize something from up here?'
'This land,' Rush said, turning away from them. 'These mountains… they're familiar.' His face creased further, pinching his mouth. 'Are we near anything? Any place?'
'I would bet we're somewhere near North City, judging by the landscape,' Yamcha guessed. 'The whole rough-hewn aspect of what I see is very Northern.'
'Not a lot of people live in the North?' Rush asked. Chi-Chi noticed that his right hand was nervous, tapping against the right side of his waist. 'Sparse?'
Yamcha nodded. At the same time, he circled so that he could get a better view of Rush. 'That's right. Why do you ask?'
Again, Rush's face creased, something in him focusing on the mountains below. They were above nothing in particular. Many mountains, none noteworthy, except for one that sat across a valley lonely two-lane highway that wrapped around a pair of conjoined peaks. There might have been a stream, too. She couldn't quite tell from here. There were a lot of cut-ins and overhangs- lots of caves and tunnels filled with wild bears and bats. Nothing here was accessible or easy to find, and...
'... Nothing.' Chi-Chi's gaze shifted back; the tension had left Rush's face. His hand was at rest, too. 'I was mistaken- I don't think there's anything here.'
Yamcha and Chi-Chi exchanged an extremely quick glance. She beat him to their question. 'Rush-'
A visible cringe ran through Rush, almost like a duck, and then Chi-Chi felt a massive flare of energy wash over her, swarming her senses. She felt- she imagined a wave of wind rushing over her, flooring her balance in the air, before quick as it came the wave ceased and all was calm again. Her gaze jumped to her right, past Yamcha and past the far-running white peaks.
'That was Suno,' she said, hearing her voice was oddly flat. She must have been surprised. That was a lot of energy. And it wasn't that far-off, too.
'... and some of Retu, too, I think,' Yamcha said, his posture recovering from a flinch. 'What are they doing?'
'Sparring?' Chi-Chi said immediately. 'But that doesn't make sense. Weren't they staying around West City with Bulma?'
'They were. They aren't now, obviously.'
'That's…' Chi-Chi squinted into the distance. 'That's… wait… that's east, and… that's Jingle Village,' she realized. 'Must be. There's nothing else out that way.'
'They must be fighting- someone?' Yamcha crossed his arms, hands digging into his ribcage. 'For that much power, and-'
He froze, and Chi-Chi knew what he was going to say before he spoke; and he didn't actually say anything because he peered into her eyes and shook his head, turning back to the east.
'Jingle what?' Rush asked, out of view.
'A town I've been to before that I liked a lot,' Chi-Chi said tersely, mind tangled up in other thoughts. 'The people there are friendly.'
Yamcha turned slightly to her, speaking volumes with his eyes. 'Chi-Chi?'
She drifted closer and leaned in. 'Keep looking,' she whispered, hand clinging to the other side of his head. 'This is more important- Rush is close to something. If you can't find it soon, come after me. If you do-'
'I understand.' Yamcha turned and titled his head forward, pressing his forehead to hers. 'Be safe, okay? And flash your energy if you're really in trouble.'
'Promise.' She pulled back, found his hand, squeezed it, and floated higher into the air. 'Rush,' she said, turning to their guide, 'I need to go look after some friends of mine. If all goes well, you won't have to follow.'
He nodded, even though his glance kept skipping towards the snow-capped mountains. 'Sure.'
'Yamcha will stay with you and keep looking, because…' Chi-Chi lost her line of thought. Mistiness pooled in Rush's eyes, like a growing, choking fog, and she didn't feel the need to finish.
She trusted Yamcha. She said that with her smile one last time. And then, turning, she lit her aura ablaze and raced through the sky, a burning tail of energy guarding her back. Her eyes were clear.
0o0o0
This place has become my home.
Such an odd thought for where he was and what his existence is. Underneath this mountain, crammed into a series of metal walls, surrounded by polish, glass, wires, and grease, he had spent a lot of time dying. His body had shriveled and folded like a desiccated sponge. His heart had scarred like a never-healing sore. His blood trickled through him when it should have rushed. On the cusp of so much achievement he had grown so frail that he found it impossible to be excited. His lust for what he had secluded himself for had waned alongside his life. Husk-like; stretched like a band.
A shuddering sigh, almost sickening in how it flowed through his cold and unfeeling chest, coated the workbench in front of him. Low-light bathed a hand, ending below its wrist and resting on its side. Gero drew his left arm, capped by a metal rod instead of an appendage, and laid it across the table. If he really squinted, he could see the fakery of his flesh and the harsh metal ridges just peeking beneath. He had sacrificed so much that even after coming back from the brink, he would never be the same. No amount of his own ingenuity or Dr. Kochin's annoying assistance could change that. His biological body was gone, and with it…
A dark glower shrouded Gero's face. His eyes focused on that ill-balanced rod, imagined flexing a yet-to-be-attached hand. There would be no coming back. The true pinnacle of his research was now unobtainable. Everything was nearly there… every stroke of luck and fortune needed, and he had fallen just short at the peak. Disappointment was nothing new to him. Neither was calling upon clinical detachment. But he would be lying if he claimed this didn't hurt. Promise had guided him to where he was now. If he was a sentimental person, he would have died on that operating table.
As he fitted the hand onto his left wrist, testing and noting for which fingers the sensory locks hadn't engaged, a faint beeping filled the gloom of his lab- a call. From his benefactor, no doubt. While still fidgeting with the newly attached limb, he crossed over to his console and tapped a flat, curved button. 'Yes?'
'Gero? We've got an… bzzzt… sue.'
Gero scowled. He had hoped he had cleaned his artificial hands of this buffoon. 'Kochin, did you say issue?'
The feed responded to his ire and grew clearer. 'Some people... showed up here. Suno and… Retu?... Don't have your file on hand...'
'Suno?...' Gero grew wistful for a moment. 'That's…' his eyes widened. 'No… they're there?'
'Her and her friend, yeah…'
Gero hunched over his console. 'No one else?'
'Not at the moment, no.'
'And you're fighting them?'
Static. '...kinda? Look, Gero, we need you and your guy over here-'
Gero lifted his finger from the button, disconnecting the feed and inviting the incoming call sound to beep back into his lab. This was an incredible compression of his plans. He had had barely enough time to retrofit his body to a combat-ready design, let alone make the changes he desired among his other models. But there stood a very good chance that if Wheelo was under attack now, they either knew he and this lab existed or would discover that very soon.
Even after a decade spent preparing… he was not fully ready. That did not mean he was without options. But...
Gero's hand brushed across the console, metal touching metal, and he pulled away, shutting it and its incoming call sound off. Stage one would have to do for now.
The glass and metal coffin to his left, tucked into one of the lab's corners, loomed in his mind. Kochin's inability to sufficiently snoop around his lab and discover all of his assets left open the possibility for its future use. He could not deny that he owed his life to that specimen, though there were risks to implementing his biomechanical power source in it. He would have to give up a certain amount of… control.
But, before he could enjoy that luxury of consideration, Gero had to buy time.
0o0o0
Kochin hung over the console, gray lips pressing and flapping apart.
'Well?' Dr. Wheelo snapped. 'What did he say?'
'He hung up.'
'HUNG UP?!' Air bubbles flooded Wheelo's tank, obscuring the wiggling brain from Kochin's sight. 'HE HAS THE NERVE TO HANG UP!?'
'... He did hold up his part of the bargain, Dr. Wheelo,' Kochin reminded as he turned and leaned on the console. 'Helping us to defend our base isn't what was agreed upon.'
'But it's neighborly!'
He couldn't disagree with that. Kochin would not describe Gero or his life's work as altruistic, however. That dying old man had made it painfully obvious he had hidden every facet and quirk of his lab possible- even the stuff that wasn't particularly deserving. Kochin once saw Gero clean out a fridge as if suspicious that he'd try to discern what his favorite foods were and use it against him. An old, odd man. But Kochin had visited only to help put his brain into a mechanical body shaped like his original organic one, and thus he did not snoop into anything further. Gero of course had his secrets. So did Wheelo.
Kochin let a loose, dreamy smile flatten his face. I wonder if he even cared what all those people were for… probably not.
'What are you smiling about, Kochin?' Wheelo growled. 'This is serious!'
'Hmm?' Bit-by-bit Kochin stirred from his thinking. 'Serious? Yes- I guess it is.'
'This situation is untenable!'
'Yes. Very serious.'
A brain wasn't exactly capable of glaring, but Kochin had gotten familiar with the silences that accompanied the stilling of the tank's lone occupant. He knew the doctor was thinking less of him. He also knew the doctor was self-conscious about how his subtle emotes could never transcend his tubed existence.
'The bio-warriors?' Wheelo asked in a subdued, suddenly tired voice. 'They can handle this?'
'With their new implants?' Kochin wheeled back around to the console, grinning ear to ear. 'I'd like to see them try to fail!'
0o0o0
Humming, soft and florid enough to pierce Piccolo's intense concentration, reverberated through the limited world before the barrier. His eyes were slitted, closed off the surrounding world, and yet somehow he found himself looking at Leera, watching as the formless, shifting apparition rubbed a hand against the barrier.
'I feel bad for him. He had no other choice, and no hope to avoid this.'
Piccolo surreptitiously couldn't find his words. 'Why?' he uttered.
'Why? I just explained.' He turned. Leera's face was melting away. 'Weren't you paying attention?' he asked, his warping head tilting, voice dissipating, a ghost slipped back into its cage-
Air cutting into his lungs, Piccolo's eyes shot open, jumping between spots in the gloom around him. The sun had dipped low enough in the sky that the Lookout's half-rebuilt central chamber was shrouded in twilight, obscuring whatever clarity of existence stood in this place. He could spot the wavy whiteness of the cordoning linen, forming the walls of Kami's bedrest, and inside those and directly before him-
… the barrier was gone. Piccolo stood from his meditative, cross-legged spot on the floor and walked the perimeter of where it should have been- but it was gone. No swirling, almost molten silver and gray floating. Nothing stopping him from walking right up to Kami and placing a hand on his chest. The Guardian's breath came slow, steady, like the whisper of the wind in the hour before a storm. In however long he had been meditating, the wall erected around Kami years before, unchanging and unblinking to others or the passage of time, dispersed without an explanation Piccolo could think of. While in his meditative state he should have been aware of any changes to his local environment- but he hadn't. The barrier could have dispersed in the past minute or several hours before that. He didn't know.
That unnerved Piccolo: he became nervous enough to back away from Kami, irrationally suspicious that this was some sort of copy or dummy put in the real Kami's place. After all- he had no idea if anything had happened out here while he was meditating. If he hadn't noticed the barrier dropping, how would he have noticed someone strolling in, abducting-
With a deep, grimacing breath, Piccolo tightened the vice around his thoughts. It was unnerving, yes, but he would have sensed if someone else had entered this space. The barrier must have dissipated gradually enough for Piccolo not to notice. And that did not seem to include the barrier he encountered in his mind just seconds before coming out of his meditative state; the physical barrier was gone, but from what he could see, Kami was no closer to emerging from his coma. Something manifesting in his meditation was still blocking him.
An itch of an idea occurred to him. Something that he would not have done in any normal frame of mind or mood. But there was still something dark in the twilight now- imagined or otherwise- that seemed to infect his reasoning. He couldn't sense Korin or Yajirobe. Maybe this was the moment long-delayed by time travel but assured by fate: perhaps in the other timeline the barrier around Kami dropped just after the debacle with the Saiyans, and Piccolo had taken him from the Earth when set with this same concern. Maybe, at another juncture, he would have taken Kami and the dragonballs and relegated this planet to the ultimate end all places and people faced. There was nothing good to be gained from spending his time alone up here with a comatose Guardians among the ghosts and spirits. He had the faintest memories of the perverse air here- the aura choked by long-dead stewards seeking to exert their influence over a present Guardian's mind.
Piccolo shut his eyes, willing himself to focus. He must have been aware of this in the other timeline, too. It was impossible to think under the wrong conditions. This entire planet was beset with those. Maybe he had fled to space to find room to clear his mind. To regroup.
Maybe. He couldn't say. All he knew was that he was frightened for a reason he couldn't explain- but he couldn't lose his grip on things. Perhaps his alternate self had figured out a way around this, but as of this moment taking Kami off the Lookout was out of the question as long as he remained the ordained Guardian. He was bound by the ancient magic of this place to remain until the role was given to another.
No; he would need someplace more secluded, more shielded, if he was going to achieve the peace of mind required to make the final push to reach Kami.
Piccolo found his outstretched hand drawing into a beleaguered claw before the answer had even occurred to him. He growled. He really did hate the Pendulum Room.
0o0o0
No amount of mind-your-own-business glares or scowls could ward off Retu's concern forever. When they entered another large chamber, well-lit unlike the last one, Retu grabbed Suno by the back of her gi. 'Are you going to stop moving and let me look at your wounds?'
Suno's head turned and stared daggers at him. 'You stopped me before I could comply.'
'Because I knew you weren't going to comply,' Retu bit back.
Their glares butted against each other, but by the end of it Suno had made no attempt to slip out of his grip. 'Fine,' she relented, turning and offering her forearms. 'Take a look.'
He did. He had worried over worse.
'They're not bad,' Retu muttered as he let her arms drop to her sides. 'You didn't cut an artery or anything, so you don't have to worry about bleeding to death.'
'Thrilling.'
'You should be more worried about yourself.'
'I'm not going to give the deadly ball pit the satisfaction.'
Retu shot a displeased look at her. 'You should give me the satisfaction.'
'I'm not here for you,' Suno snarked, turning her back to him. 'I'm here for my village- and yours, too.'
'I haven't forgotten that,' Retu muttered under his breath. 'You know, Suno, sometimes you can be a real pain.'
Suno threw a look over her shoulder and resumed scanning the room before them. There were a series of platforms jutting from the high-rising walls, hemming the space with a surprising amount of verticality. An ideal place for a fight, actually-
'You're not going to say anything to that?' Retu's grating voice cut into her thoughts. 'Nothing?'
Again, she tossed an unpleasant look back at him. Despite the room's intuitive design, she couldn't figure out where the next door was. Wherever she looked, she saw the room curve in on itself, almost like-
'I go to bat for you a lot, Suno,' Retu continued, fuming. 'And I've had to do that more recently. I didn't agree with your obsession with using the gravity chamber, or your insistence on only training by yourself or with me, but I tried to support you because it was the right thing to do. Because that's what-'
He got caught on a word he hadn't uttered- which Suno had caught as well and glanced at before focusing her attention back forward. 'It's how I felt,' Retu said, resigned.
'Felt what?'
'Are you going to say anything?' This time, he sounded almost pleading if not for the audible anger in his voice. 'Anything?'
'What can I say?' Suno growled sarcastically. 'I've been stressed these past couple years, and we didn't really have the time or space-'
A flash of movement sprung down from one of the platforms above. A wave of wind and energy, slamming against the ground, helped Suno hop back and nudge Retu along with her. Her red aura had barely faded before a massive yellow fist cracked the stone flooring, shaking the ground underneath their feet. Suno's breath left in staggered, hissing bursts, as she seized up the massive figure that rose from the crater.
'Big one,' she cursed.
Retu gestured to the air above them. 'Big ones.'
Two other figures descended from the platforms above them: a green, lizard-like humanoid and a pallid pink man, both easily twice as tall as them, landed behind a massive yellow blob of a fighter. Fighter was the important word; as that yellow fist rose, Suno stared at the massive musculature snap and curl beneath his thick, fatty skin.
'Kais,' Retu muttered. 'Is the strong-man circus in town?'
Suno shook him off her. 'If we're lucky.' She squared herself towards her presumed opponents. 'Who are you three?'
'Us?' The pink one stepped forward, moving past his yellow ally. 'We're the residents of this homely little place,' the pink one continued, voice straining as he suddenly thrust his arms forward, 'here to deal with rude trespassers!'
Without any warning- without anything to tip them off as to what was about to happen- a blast of pale blue aura launched from the pink fighter's palms, expanding as it rushed past them-
'Like wind! Like a blizzard!' Retu shouted, feeling a wave of life-sapping cold rush towards them. 'He's going to freeze us!'
'Freeze?' Suno was a second behind Retu as she lifted his hands and thrust them forward, building ki in front of her to use as a heat shield. 'That's a new one!'
Some voice from somewhere beat Retu to the exact sentence he was going to utter.
'It is the arctic!'
'Ebi!' The green one farther back yelled in a raspy voice as his gaze shot up, 'Get back!'
Before the wave of ice could hit them, the pink figure jumped away, letting his attack disperse into gusts of cold wind. In his place a maelstrom of snapping blue energy slammed into the ground, seemingly bending the room with its force. Retu and Suno were both staggered as a lone figure, lit ablaze with flame-like bands of ki, rose, showcasing the broad coloring of her armor. For good measure, she swung her right arm from her shoulder, cracking it.
'Sorry to break up this beat-down,' Chi-Chi apologized with a grin, 'but I can't let you two have all the fun, right?'
A/N: Originally, this chapter was going to be quite a bit longer, but for the sake of getting this done, I may have pushed a fight back a chapter and not covered a few different places and people. Sorry! I promise there are going to be too many fights and characters from this point on.
Reviews:
Perfect Carnage: Glad you like Launch's sinking ship monologue! More confusion and bewilderment as machinations are revealed are coming, too!
La Rocha: Well, now I'M the slow one, hah! Sorry to keep you waiting.
Yep, Namek is happening in canon as of this moment. Crazy how bigger and badder enemies coming along sooner kicks everything into motion…
Oh, for sure, I love breaking the script a ton. Sometimes it makes it tricky to write characters convincingly as they respond to novel events and developments, but it's a challenge worth taking on!
Rush… hohoho… that's all I gotta say. RAFO.
I 100% agree with your take on Kami. He was misguided before and after splitting off his evil half. Balance is the way to go, not absolution.
Interesting thought on the barrier. We'll see if it holds water.
Reinforcements for them have arrived!
Interesting theory on Krillin and Marron. I'll have to consider it…
Perhaps they'll get their wish, someday! And then GT happens and the world explodes xD
Your power calculations for the Saiyans/Traveler fight are 100% spot on. Those are nearly the exact numbers I had pegged everyone at. Good job. I'll include them at the bottom of a chapter when they become relevant again…
On your question about Kakarot and Bardock's strength, I think the text has mentioned a few times that people's power is severely restricted in hell, except in special cases when granted a privilege or exemption (think Master Roshi diving down there with King Yemma's license). Roshi fought toe-to-toe with Katas mostly because Katas had a lot of his power suppressed. Bardock and Kakarot suffered from the same problem.
While it's probably a stretch to think Bardock and Nappa could fight equally, I think you can make the case that Bardock scrapping in hell for twenty-plus years added to his strength (if he ever got out, of course). Kakarot is more a case of getting lucky (Nappa couldn't block his attack) and overwhelming their opponent before they get a chance to respond (think how he decisively took out Turles, who was sorta surprised by his sudden attack). If it was a drawn out fight, I think they were moving towards an eventual loss. Luck was on their side, though.
Bardock has probably been training him. I should have referenced that a bit earlier and is talked about in this chapter. As for how Kakarot fought in the previous battles, however, he used mostly simple techniques (hard hit to the head, and straight-forward energy attack) and continued that in the last chapter.
The strongest non-ki human may pop up very soon… Stay tuned.
As for your review, thank you a ton and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
KagariAsuha: You got some introspection from Kakarot here! And expect more going forward as more things develop with him. As for how long it takes him to get back to Earth… these next chapters may be a little critical…
Cityracer: Nappa is not a good guy. Also, lol, I love Turles's presence, too. Just trying to jump ship at the first chance.
I talked a little about why I think Bardock was close to being on par with Bardock in La Rocha's review (involves Hell suppressing energy) In retrospect, though, I probably should have thrown in a scene or two showing him training or using his power with Kakarot.
To Turles's credit, his most recent experience has been with someone who hasn't been able to hit back (i.e. Nappa can't kill or hit him for running his mouth for fear of displeasing Vegeta). He might have expected that Kakarot wouldn't have thrown a punch at him. Also, as for him becoming good, RAFO.
GOD DAMN do I love writing Launch. Really refreshing person to slip into a mindset for and jam. Most of my writing for dialogue and thinking among the Zs are fairly rational and calm, no? Launch is definitely not that and is a great change of pace.
Bardock has some potential to become good. He also has some baggage… but that's a little bit of a spoiler. RAFO.
Thank you for the review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Anonymous: To your questions, rapid fire:
Bardock is not psychic here, no. I have an explanation for that that I'll put into the text at some point.
TLDR; Bardock's power was suppressed in hell. He and Kakarot have also trained some since being revived, but I should have shown that at some point so that's my bad.
Bardock is sorta an elite? It has to do with his background. He was a strongish fighter before being pulled into the PTO on King Vegeta's behalf. That's why he was running a team, after all. But to fully answer that question you'll have to wait until we find out what exactly happened on the day Bardock died.
Nope, Goku didn't copy Yamcha's technique. He used a more straightforward ki attack.
Kakarot's flashback was to him watching Krillin grappled Raditz. Seeing Bardock grapple Nappa reminded him of that.
The spirit ball does not spiral, no.
Thank you for your question and your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
TienFan99: You'll have to see how that fight goes xD. In the words of another reviewer, a "battle royale" can be chaotic in all the right ways. Thank you for your review!
TrentBttl: Kakarot is not stronger than Bardock, no. He was able to do as much damage as he did because he was able to hit Nappa unguarded. You'll get a firmer sense for his strength soon. Thank you for your review!
Transformers g1's-Prime: It was kind-of a Kamehameha, though… not exactly… hmm...
Oh, Bardock and Nappa have a ton of history. Details forthcoming :^)
The current year, according to the timeline posted a few chapters back, is 763. In canon, we'd be in the Namek Saga.
I've thought a lot about a "History of Trunks" special for Traveler. In short, I'm not sure which way I want to go yet. I could see it either as a standalone chapter or a wholly independent fic on the site with a lead-in back to this story. It'll get written at some point. But, I made a promise to myself that I'd put out a chapter of Victor before I begin the work on that, so that'll have to come first!
Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
