"Are you insane?!"
Vomi's incensed tone thundered through the lab, causing Gero to give a small wince. The echo of her words rang harshly in his ears, while his eyes matched with Vomi's for a few moments. He was captivated by the mixture of fury and horror in her gaze, her eyes drilling into him relentlessly. It wasn't like anything he'd seen from her before.
Well, no, not quite. She had given him a similar look, once: on the night that their marriage had ended. Gero would never forget that, not for as long as he lived.
"Pretty sure the Doc has a few screws loose," Fifteen chimed in, not helping the situation whatsoever.
"Please, Doctor Gero is not insane. Merely…" Fourteen paused, searching for an appropriate term. "Neurologically divergent from mainline humans."
"Sounds like a fancy, egghead way of sayin' he's insane in the membrane," Thirteen quipped with a smirk.
Gero glared at them harshly, silencing any further byplay from his rogue creations with a growl. Once they were taken care of, he turned his attention back to his ex-wife.
"Now Vomi—!" he began, but she immediately cut him off.
"Oh don't you 'now Vomi' me! I swear, if you try to say that I'm overreacting, I will smack you on that oversized head of yours!" Vomi hissed, glaring daggers at him.
Gero bristled in response, a vein nearly popping on his forehead as he tensed with mounting anger. The snickers from Thirteen and Fifteen did not help his mood either, his hands curling up into fists as a surge of righteous fury flowed through him.
But before that rage could boil over, Gero abruptly closed his eyes. He employed a few breathing exercises Doctor Briefs had taught him in his youth, doing his best to calm himself down and restrain his fury. He did not want to make another mistake here, like had at Ponshu's house. Blowing up at Vomi would not help him in the slightest. If he wanted to make his wife understand, then he needed to try and peacefully argue her down, and not let things devolve into a childish tantrum.
Though she made that so hard for him: Gero couldn't help but wryly reflect on that. Intentionally or not, Vomi really did know how to work him up and press his buttons.
"Fine. Then do me the same courtesy, and do not call me insane," he bit out, his anger leaking out despite his best efforts. "Instead, tell me why you are against this proposal: like a proper scientist."
Vomi narrowed her eyes, giving him a dark look. In a clipped and irate tone she began to say, "Fine. In that case, let me be clear. You are volunteering to undergo a process that, to my understanding, has not had any prior testing on humans before. You have no way of knowing if this will work, nor how it might affect your body. Hell, for all we know, such an attempt could kill you, Gero! How does that not sound insane to you?!"
Very carefully, Gero smoothed out his features, trying not to react to his wife's words. It wouldn't do to give her a hint about Androids Seventeen and Eighteen, after all. Though their omission nevertheless put him in a bind. Without their example to fall back on, how could he prove that his cyborgization process would work?
Then again, there wasn't a guarantee that it would work on him. If he were a younger man, Gero would be certain of the operation's chances at success. As he was now, however…
"You are…right, to a degree," he begrudgingly admitted, frowning in distaste as he stroked his chin. "I have run simulations that indicate a high chance of success for a cyborgization process on human test subjects. But, those chances of success lower the older the subject is. The strain such a process takes on the human body is immense, and the older one is, the greater the likelihood is of sudden death, most likely through a stroke or heart attack. Like with many things, the young take better to these surgeries better than the old. So engaging in a conversion process on my body, at my age, would be…fraught with risk. I do acknowledge that."
Gero paused, gauging her reaction so far. Vomi's eyes remained narrowed into slits, but she gestured for him to keep speaking.
Emboldened, Gero felt an unseen tension wash away from his shoulders. Feeling more at ease and in familiar territory, he continued with his argument.
"Nevertheless, it is a worthwhile risk. While my Androids are formidable and mighty, they face frustrating limitations. They cannot train to grow stronger, like with most organic beings. Instead I must feed them combat data from battles I have spied on. The resulting calculations and analysis can increase their strength tenfold, but it is an inefficient way to do so. Much as it pains me to admit, my research has confirmed that training and actual combat are the best ways at sharpening one's own physical power…and both methods are unusable for my Androids. Their frames cannot change or develop the way organic bodies can, leaving the constant feed of battle data as their only method of advancement.
"And when I have no more data to give them? In that case, they will become stagnant, and their organic foes will almost assuredly pass them in strength. While they are superior to organic beings in most ways, this one frustrating limitation will ensure they always remain a step behind, and at a disadvantage. That is why a proper cyborg is the best of both worlds!" Gero declared, a passionate air suffusing his words.
Truth be told, his words were not entirely correct. His Energy Absorption model of Androids could, in theory, obtain far greater power than their battle-data provided through the absorption of ki. But the fatal flaw of the Energy Absorption model was that they would need constant replenishment, as Energy Absorption was their only method of sustaining themselves. With no Infinite Energy Reactor, Energy Absorption Androids had a finite supply of ki to work with at any given time, and running out ran the risk of them malfunctioning, and eventually ceasing to work entirely. In theory, they could operate indefinitely, but eventually they would run out of a readily available source of ki to drain.
Regardless of that issue, though, was the fact that that model of Android would also face similar limitations, in terms of increasing their power level. Perhaps that flaw could be mitigated some with the combination of the Infinite Energy Reactor and Energy Absorption models: but alas, such a thing was impossible. The two model types were utterly incompatible.
Though Gero knew it could be done, all the same: Super Seventeen was evidence of that, after all. But that had required extraordinary circumstances to pull off, and he doubted he would get access to Doctor Myuu or the Machine Mutants anytime soon, if they even existed here.
Vomi furrowed her brow, mulling over his argument. After a long minute of silence she said, "I'm not nearly as much of an expert on Mechanoids as you are, but it does all make a certain amount of sense. Using your logic, I suppose I would concede to the superiority of a cyborg over an android."
She paused for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. But before she could speak any further—
"Please, I'm superior to any cyborg or android, any day of the week," Fifteen declared with a scoff. Taking a swig from his flask he added, "And I'm superior to that old sack of bones for that matter. Ain't any creature, past, present, or future, who is superior to this love machine."
Fifteen waggled his eyebrows for good measure as he gave Vomi the most perverse grin that Gero had ever seen.
Immediately, the lingering tension in the room deflated like a popped balloon. Gero and Vomi both turned to stare at the Mechanoid, who matched their combined gaze with a smug grin. And in that moment, Gero wanted nothing more than to throttle that unrepentant bucket of bolts.
Thirteen snickered with amusement, while Fourteen shook his head in forlorn sadness, already murmuring apologies for his compatriot.
"Gero," Vomi spoke up in an incredulous tone. "Did you actually give him a functional penis?"
He sputtered in response, his face reddening from a mixture of outrage and mortification. "Don't be absurd! I—that question is completely and utterly irrelevant!"
Vomi blinked rapidly, sending him a flat look that left Gero further at odds.
"Only one way to find out, ain't there?" Fifteen leered.
"Enough!" Gero barked, letting out a soft growl. "I will not be made a fool of by my creation! Or made a cuckold, for that matter! All three of you, back in the stasis pods, and power off until I bring you back online!"
"Whelp, ya done gone and done it now," Thirteen bemoaned, giving a frustrated sigh. "Seriously Fifteen, learn to read the room."
"Hey, she left me a wide openin', and I was happy to take advantage of it," Fifteen chortled, sounding utterly unrepentant.
"My friend, that mouth of yours is going to get you killed one day," Fourteen rebuked, arms crossed as he stared sternly at the diminutive Mechanoid. "Mark my words."
Some more banter was shared among the Androids, but they walked back to their pods all the same, climbing inside. Once the pod doors hissed shut on them, Gero let out a sigh of relief.
"I swear, those three are more trouble than they're worth," he grumbled, muttering darkly under his breath. "Now, where were we? Right, cyborgs. So, then, you concede that a cyborg would be a better overall fighter for our intervention against the Saiyans. In which case—!"
Vomi cut him off, once more giving him a stern glare. "Just because I agree with you doesn't mean I will help you with that, Gero. Our deal was quite clear: I will not help you with any technology that would go toward hurting innocent people. And that would include turning you into a cyborg. Or are you going to tell me you wouldn't use your new power against Son Goku, the first chance you got?"
Gero scowled, glowering darkly at his ex-wife. Yet she held her ground, meeting his gaze with a burning fire of her own clear in her eyes. A terrible silence stretched between them, and the tension that had been dispelled returned in a great rush, suffusing the air around them.
Gero again closed his eyes, memories from another world causing him to send a brief prayer for patience to a deity far outside of his current reality. At the same time he pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to head off the migraine that was threatening to erupt.
"I suppose I could not simply promise you that I would never personally fight Son Goku?" he finally asked, his voice as dry as a desert.
As he suspected, Vomi shook her head in response. "You know that wouldn't be good enough, Gero. I'm already suspicious that you might try to break our deal, or weasel your way through it via some loophole. You and I both know you couldn't hold to a promise like that. Not when you hate Goku that much."
Gero grumbled under his breath, yet he did nothing to contradict her words. It was true, after all: after he had enhanced his body, either by turning himself into a cyborg or depositing his brain into an Android shell, he planned to take the fight directly to Goku. Not anytime soon, of course...but eventually, yes. He would be ultimately satisfied if a future creation of his was the one to deliver the killing blow on that abominable man-child, but the thought of doing it himself was just as tempting, if not moreso. Vomi had every reason to be wary of his intentions, put in that light.
Then, as if struck by a bolt of inspiration, a fitting solution came to his mind.
"In that case," he slowly said, testing out the words. "I would give you permission to modify my mind so there wouldn't be a risk."
Vomi's eyes grew wide with alarm, and she took a step back from him. She stared at him for a long minute, before she finally managed to utter, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Gero frowned, irked at the need to repeat himself. "You heard me, Vomi. As part of the operation, some bio-mechanical parts would need to be installed in my brain. That would allow you to program and install certain...shall we say 'parameters' into my consciousness. It's not flat out mind control, to be clear: that is difficult to achieve, and would need to be constantly maintained, lest the subject wrestle back self-control. But certain guidelines could be written, and in a willing subject, they would be followed flawlessly."
Vomi remained silent in the face of his explanation, staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. Gero patiently waited for her to collect herself, though his brow twitched with faint annoyance all the same. Was it really such a difficult concept to grasp?
"You'd," Vomi finally said, her voice cracking. "You'd let me mess with your mind like that?"
"Why not? You'd be just as qualified as me to do the necessary programming," Gero replied matter-of-factly.
"That's not the issue here! You, you can't just—!" Vomi abruptly cut herself off, a laugh of disbelief escaping her throat. "You cannot expect me to believe that you'd let me…Gero, do you know what I could do?! I could do a hell of a lot more to your mind than just putting some sort of anti-Goku limiter on it! If I could program you just like a machine, there's no limit to the potential abuse! I could erase your memories, make you follow my commands, alter your personality…gods above, Gero, the potential for abuse is insane!"
Gero's eyes lit up with realization, and he immediately looked off to the side. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, absently running a hand through his long mane of hair. "Ah, I see now. Yes, those are some…valid points."
Admittedly, her fears were somewhat overblown: he had just said total mind control wasn't possible, after all. While he had psychological inhibitors installed in Seventeen and Eighteen to restrain their actions and make them follow orders, they were still able to wrestle with, and eventually overcome, those mental constraints. His death in multiple timelines at their hands was more than enough proof of that, to say nothing of their generally rebellious nature. There was only so much he could also do to modify their personalities too, given that his attempts to make Lapis and Lazuli into obedient slaves had ended in failure. The rest, however, was another story.
Memories could be erased, that much was true. And he'd be putting a lot of trust and faith in Vomi that she wouldn't wipe his mind. Or, for that matter, add other limiters that might hinder his future goals. The prospect of not being able to fight Goku personally as an Android was grating, but one he was willing to tolerate, given he still had his other Mechanoids to fall back on. But if Vomi tried to use this as an opportunity to make him give up on his vendetta entirely…
And yet, would she do such a thing?
Their relationship may have drifted apart since their divorce, but Gero believed he still had a good handle on his ex-wife's character. She'd always been more hesitant about doing unethical studies, and had always refused to do especially heinous things, such as experimenting on human test subjects. And unlike him, she had been the one more inclined against exploring the true boundaries of science, especially when that meant getting your hands dirty. In the past, that had endlessly frustrated him, and been a source of contention during their employment under the Red Ribbon Army. Now, however…
"You wouldn't do such a thing," he murmured softly.
"What?" Vomi questioned, giving him a bewildered stare.
"You are a different breed of scientist, Vomi. That has been a controversial issue between us in the past, I will admit. But here, it serves as a reassurance. That is to say, you're not like me at all. You're…"
Weak-willed. Childish. Scared of progress. Craven.
These words and more flashed through his head, as Gero sought out the appropriate label. In the past, he had said these things and more besides to his wife, especially on the infamous night their marriage ended. But at that moment, all of those words felt wrong to Gero, tasting like ash on his tongue. For a reason he couldn't quite explain, he didn't want to call his wife any of those words.
So instead, he went with the first positive thing that flashed to his mind.
"You're a better person than me, Vomi. You'd never do anything to alter me in such a fundamental way. So I can trust you to have my best interests at heart, if nothing else," he finally said, keeping his gaze fixed away from her.
A long, bewildered silence settled in between them, as Gero looked anywhere but at Vomi. He still caught the look of wide-eyed shock that flickered over her features, and even more confusingly, the flash of hurt that followed her surprise. But Gero kept his eyes locked elsewhere and pointedly did not say anything else.
It was only after a long, suffocating amount of time had passed, that either of them spoke again.
"This is all still…hypothetical talk. We have no idea if your body would even take to such a conversion process," Vomi said in a shaky tone.
"Yes, that is…a fair point," he conceded, grasping onto the change of subject like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood. "That would need to be established more than anything else. There are some tests we can run, to ensure that my body is compatible with being turned into a cyborg. And if it is not…well, it is a bridge we shall have to cross at that point."
Vomi nodded weakly before turning around suddenly. In that same, jittery tone she said, "I'm feeling tired right now. I think I'll go unpack and rest for a little bit, if you don't mind."
Gero murmured his assent and just like that, Vomi shot off, speed-walking away from him and over to the living quarters. When she was out of sight he let out a small sigh, and settled down in front of a nearby workbench. All of a sudden he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Gero wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and rest.
But sleep eluded him. Instead, the screams of terror from a certain set of twins echoed harshly in his mind, as did the last, haunting message from Gevo on the day of his son's death. Those harsh memories, and more, mingled together in his mind, relentlessly reminding him of his own past sins and failures. And as he sat there alone with his memories, a most insidious idea wormed itself inside of his head.
Gero tried his best to ignore it, but it clawed its way to the surface, bursting into the forefront of his mind with ease. And once it had taken root, it was nigh impossible to banish.
Would a memory wipe really be that bad? At this point, his long life was filled more with heartache and mistakes than success and triumphs. To erase the pain he felt, to wipe away the agony from his son's death, and his divorce from the only woman he'd ever loved…
Would unburdening himself from the past, and establishing a clean slate, really be so bad?
Time passed slowly, as it so often did. Gero busied himself in the lab after a point, getting some minor work done until Vomi re-emerged from the living quarters. She didn't say a word to him, but with a look and a gesture invited him back inside the quarters with her. She led him through the kitchen area and to the adjoining dining room, where a deactivated Chef-Bot, and the scent of a delicious meal, awaited him.
"You cooked?" he murmured, staring first at the prone form of Akira before looking at Vomi. "You know, I had this Chef-Bot made for a reason."
"I felt like cooking for myself, and your creation seemed to relish the chance for a break," Vomi replied simply. "I happened to make more than enough for two, however. Force of habit, I suppose. Care to join me? We may as well not waste the food."
She then took a seat at one end of the table, and after a hesitant pause, he sat opposite her. After that he diverted his attention to the food itself, his brows rising in minute surprise at the meal before him.
"Fried Paozu fish and rice?" he questioned, looking over at her. "You…made one of my favorite meals?"
Vomi gave an effortless shrug and simply said, "I felt like cooking it, Gero. It's as simple as that."
With that declaration given, she started eating from her plate.
Gero copied her actions a few seconds later, only pausing as he savored the welcome flavor of the meal. He gave a satisfied sigh, moving a little faster as he started eating more eagerly. God, it had been years since he'd enjoyed a home cooked meal, let alone fried Paozu. He'd spent so much time mindlessly consuming half-expired Red Ribbon Army ration meal-kits that tasting real food was like a godsend.
The sound of clattering silverware filled the room as he and Vomi ate in relative silence. At the same time, Gero felt his eyes drift over the table, thinking back to the last time he and Vomi had enjoyed a meal together. It had to have been years ago, far longer than he could reliably remember. They certainly had shared few meals together during the heyday of the Red Ribbon Army, he'd been far too busy with his work back then. So it must have been before that...back when Gevo was just a young boy, and Ponshu had just been born.
Christ, that had to have been thirty years ago. How could it have been so long? More than that, how could he have allowed himself to neglect his family? Had his work really been so important? Yes, it had, considering all the progress he had made and the accomplishments under his belt. Hell, he had pioneered an entirely new form of life, and stood poised to make further strides still.
But at what cost? One son dead, the other hating his guts, a grandson he'd never be allowed to see, and an ex-wife who loathed him utterly. His precious family, left broken and ruined upon the alter of his ambitions.
Was it really worth it?
For a brief moment, Gero felt his mind's eye project an image of the past onto his present. Vomi, Gevo, Ponshu, and himself, all sharing food at a dinner table at the Briefs estate. Gevo, a hellion already at four years old, ignoring his food in favor of making faces at his baby brother; Vomi, trying and failing to get Ponshu to eat a vegetable mush as he laughed at his older sibling's antics; and Gero himself, a fond smile on his face as he took the entire scene in.
And just as quickly as that memory came to him, it vanished, replaced by drab reality. He took stock of the present once more, of him and Vomi sharing a table together in a dimly lit, cramped room. No children, no love, and no warmth: just two old, lonely people barely able to tolerate one another.
Gero felt a tight pain erupt in the center of his chest, and his hands shook with barely restrained emotion. He immediately turned his attention back to his half-eaten meal, shoveling more pieces of fried Paozu and rice into his mouth. Its delicious flavor only made him feel worse, however.
"Gero?" Vomi suddenly spoke up, a mixture of incredulity and concern in her voice. "Are you...crying?"
He started at her accusation, bristling as he instinctively readied himself to deny her claim. But a wet, damp feeling along his cheeks put out the fires of his retort before it could even be born. He quickly brought up a free hand to his eyes, and discovered much to his alarm, that a steady stream of tears were leaking out from him.
He hastily stood up, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his lab coat. He then shook his head and blatantly lied, saying, "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous."
In that moment, Gero knew he needed to get out of that room, and fast! If he did not, he would surely fall apart before Vomi, and he would sooner die than expose to her any moments of weakness.
"Thank you for the meal," Gero choked out, before striding out of the dining room.
Vomi called after him, but he paid her no heed, marching away as fast as his feet could carry him. Once out in the lab, he took the elevator down to the sub-basement, and swiftly rushed to the back of the wide, open room. He strode past a multitude of stored materials and machinery, stopping only once he arrived at the stasis pods for his incomplete Androids. It was there that he opened up the pod containing Android Sixteen.
The capsule door hissed open with an eruption of steam, and Gero quickly found himself staring at the facsimile of his dead son. Android Sixteen's cold, unmoving gaze met his own, and Gero swiftly forced himself to look away. His eyes drifted downward, looking at the exposed wiring and machinery visible from Sixteen's half-open torso. He'd been so busy with his other works, that he hadn't had any time to make any more progress with Android Sixteen.
Though perhaps that was for the best, considering what he felt now as he gazed upon the half complete Mechanoid he had built to mimic his long lost son.
Gero balled his hands up into fists, while the tears flowing freely from his eyes fell at a faster rate. Then, a fresh wave of grief hit him like a freight train, causing Gero to sink to his knees.
He let out a shuddering gasp, just barely holding back a wail of agony. Through a heavy, sorrow-laden voice he called out, "Computer, play back file G-750-Final Log."
An affirmative chime echoed through the room, and seconds thereafter the long dead voice of Gevo filtered down to his ears.
"May 12th, Age 750, 1630, Red Ribbon HQ. Hey Dad! I, uh, I'm here at headquarters, getting everything put away. No bunkmate, so...room to myself, which is good for a guy of my size. Heh, had a hell of a time sharing a room with Ponshu anyway, so I'm kinda glad I don't have a roommate here. So, uh, I just wanted to...you know, record something for you, since you and Uncle Frappe are busy building robot guys and stuff. How's, uh, how's Mom, by the way? She still working hard in her biology lab? Haven't heard from her in awhile, you know, but uh, the same goes for you too. Guess you guys are just pretty busy these days. No worries about that, though, I totally get it. I mean, we're all doing important work here, right? Working our butts off to replace that Dog King and his cronies with a real, competent government! Haha...well, anyway. Just wanted to let you know that I miss you, Dad. You, and Mom, and Ponshu. I know...things have been difficult between us all lately, especially with Ponshu running off on his own. But I actually got in touch with him recently, and he wanted to hear what I had to say. Surprisingly, we, uh, had a pretty civil conversation. So, it got me thinking: maybe, someday soon, we could all sit down and, you know, talk things out? It's been so long since we all got together as a family, I think it'd really do us all some good. I know what we're doing here with the Red Ribbon Army is important, but surely we can set aside a little time for ourselves, right? I mean, you've more than earned enough vacation time. Just...something to think about, I guess."
And from there, the rest of the message played out as Gero knew it would. A sudden blaring of an alarm, while an off-screen voice said that something was tearing its way through the base. Then:
"Uh, sorry, looks like I gotta go. Love you, Dad. Good luck with your—!"
There were no visuals playing to accompany the audio, but Gero had watched the the entire thing enough times to know what happened next. The chilling voice of a child drowned out Gevo's final words, and his son's entire existence was consumed in a wave of blue light.
And just like that, the recording came to an end.
Gero let out a choked sob thereafter, his hands clawing at the sterile floor beneath him. Curses freely flew from his mouth, passionate anger the only weapon he had left with which to wield his grief. He cursed Son Goku, for being the one to slay his bright, stunning little boy; he cursed Commander Red, whose incompetence had engineered the doom of the Red Ribbon Army; but most of all, he cursed himself, for shunning Gevo for so long, and not being able to tell his own son he had loved him too.
"Why didn't these memories come in sooner?!" Gero wept, his entire body shaking and shuddering. Another choked, ugly sob escaped his lips, as he wailed, "I could have saved him! I could have! I should have! My baby boy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
All other words of self-recrimination were lost as Gero buried his face in his hands, crying the entire time.
He stayed like that for quite some time, utterly alone in his grief.
Author's Note:
Well, that chapter ended differently than I anticipated, but isn't that the fun of writing? The prologue arc is just about over now, maybe one or two more chapters to go from here. Should be interesting to see where things go from here!