Chill's mood had been sour today. He didn't know if it had something to do with how lacking his returns had been in the performance of his duties lately, the boredom of monotonous tasks day in and day out or the culmination of several months of time ignoring the realization that everything you once knew was truly gone. Numbly lamenting on these thoughts and feelings, he stepped without thought or cause through Ajisa Mainlands and lost himself in a world of rumination.
BLIP. BLIP. BLIP.
Snapping out of his melancholic drudge a vibrant yellow alert popped up on his screen, his scouter blurting out aloud that it had picked up some considerable power levels a short distance ahead. As the horizon lowered from sight along the rolling white, Chill spotted three figures in scuffed saiyan battle armor, followed on by a collection of native namekians. A small zoonamite man huddled in a ball on the ground as three hulking figures crowded around him, asking him questions. Two saiyans and a beppan, each emblazoned with the markings of the Saiyan took turns to kick and push the huddled figure.
He turned his scouter's notification off. It was none of his concern what two filthy monkeys and a volcano-thumper wanted with a fin-faced little runt. However, what did concern him was that he wasn't in any mood to deal with the Saiyan Kingdom's grunts today. Heading to the west so that he could avoid the trio he headed into the small city he'd spied as he edged over the hill and walked in. Pulling his cloak up high and putting on his mask, he strode around Moori Capital in disguise. He noticed a surprising amount of variety in the racial make up, and of those many differing aliens he saw more than a few donning the battle armor of the Saiyan Kingdom.
Chill didn't need this. Heading into a local tavern to sample some of the local palettes, he spied an odd sight through the window as he drank. Half machine, half man with a long saiyan-like tail made of metal. Like the Bio-Android he'd met in the caves, an obvious oddity even among such an alien crowd. Dropping some money on the bar he pulled the bottom of his mask up and downed his drink. Smoky, yet smooth on it's way down. Sitting on the taste for a moment, he pulled his mask down and turned to see the same oddity entering the building, for whatever reason.
In disguise, he turned with his cloak overhanging him in the seat and stared down the android creature, his expressionless mask blankly tracking his movement through the room.
Apparently cyborgs could get tired. Who knew! Galick found himself continuing his weakened limp among the Namekian capitol, getting plenty of odd looks as he dragged himself a long. There were too many times where his leg just wouldn't respond to anything again and again, and he had to sit down and do a couple system restarts to get it working. Sometimes turning it on and off again worked, other times it didn't for some reason. The cyborg still found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, the vats and tubes on his body glowing dimmer now.
The faint scent of cooked foods of the sort managed to catch Galick's attention, and he found himself inside a small tavern in no time once his leg decided to listen to him. Some saiyans, plenty of Namekians, and even a few Beppans and Brenchians chatted it up at numerous tables... The saiyan debated ordering something, putting a hand to his chin. His palm grazed the mask on his face, causing the cyborg to slump over. Right, he couldn't eat or drink to begin with now. Woe is me.
Another spark flying from his leg caused the android to swiftly trot over to an open table, plopping down on a chair with a sigh as another spark flew, traces of steam and gas flying from his still damaged body alongside an occasional spark. Galick grabed and wiggled his leg once more, finding it unfeeling once more. Did everything want to get him today? It seemed so.
Regardless, he'd slump back against his chair. The odd glances towards him here were surprisingly minimal, perhaps due to the oddity of each and every person stopping by thus far. But there was one gaze trained on the cyborg. A masked figure of the sort was staring him down from the other side of the room. For a moment, he'd glare back, trying to activate the scouter he had programmed in, but sparks just flew again and the android staggered, lowering and gripping his forehead in pain. Still, he'd push through his aching head and send a brief "I got my eye on you" gesture with his two clawed, mechanical fingers towards the masked Arcosian, his mechanical tail lashing about for a moment.
Hopefully the message got across. Turning his gaze away and outside a nearby window, Galick rested his head in a palm, groggily starting to close his eyes. He fought to keep his gaze open, and couldn't help but to occasionally glance back at the masked man, just in case.
Now that he'd entered and was closer for inspection, Chill noticed that little sparks and sounds were coming off of the metallic workings of the saiyan android. Through glassy eyes, Chill saw the cybernetic stranger's eye sizzle and jolt for a moment before in obvious pain the figure sat down at a table and threw a gesture towards him that very clearly meant he was keeping an eye on him.
Chill wanted to know more about this guy. Was he a loyalist to the Saiyan Kingdom? It was a safe assumption to make, not just because of Chill's proclivity towards blaming the Saiyans for each and every strange or disturbing occurrence that he didn't like. Only the Saiyan Kingdom could create such faulty technology for one of their own. Real scientists like those at the World Trade Fleet would have produced something much better.
Chill turned back to the bar, pulling back his mask just enough to reveal his curled lips and swallowed down another local drink. This time, a strong spirit that carried the flavor of native Ajissan Fruits. Licking his lips he pulled the mask back and stood from his seat.
Slowly, Chill walked across to the booth by the window that the Android sat at. Sliding in opposite the droid, Chill sat unmoving and simply stared for a brief period of time. After a minute or so, he took in a breath and spoke through the mask. "Greetings." He tilted his head to the side inquisitively. "You are a curiosity, one which I cannot ignore. If you'll allow me, I'm curious. What are you, and under which banner do you fly?" Chill's voice was muffled slightly by the mask, but it did little to mask the clear Arcosian accent underneath.
"...?" The cyborg narrowed his gaze. The next time Galick turned to eye the masked man and keep his eyes mostly open, the man was sitting right across from him. He kept his own eyes narrowed, his mechanical tail occasional raising and lashing. Still, his eyes would sometimes close and head droop, but a spark of electricity always snapped before the cyborg could doze off. But, finally, the man in front of him spoke.
Galick remained silent in response to his question for a few moments. Still, the Arcosian's only verbal response was a garbled, incomprehensible mess of computer noises and metallic growling- what else could he say when his speech had been sealed so long ago? With a huff and roll of his narrowed eyes, Galick's metallic, clawed fingers would fidget for a moment as he eyed the mysterious individual up and down. His tone had an oddly familiar accent to it, but... Well, the thick lizard-like tail was a dead giveaway that he was dealing with an Arcosian. As a thin trail of barely visible, darkened gas slowly flew from one of the exhausts on his back, Galick found his gaze panning to a nearby menu, neatly folded on the table. A small pool of oil had formed beneath his leaking palm as well. Maybe...
Well, it certainly couldn't hurt to strike up a little conversation. Arcosians were, well, Arcosians, but perhaps he could wriggle some more information about this era from the masked man. His palm briefly trailed across a largely blank page on the menu, a sharpened, metal finger scribbling away for a few moments. He couldn't speak, but he could still write, after all...
GALICK SAIYAN SOLAR EMPIRE
The cyborg's handwriting was somewhat sloppy, letters varying in thickness and height with a few splotches of oil dotting the area around the letters. A moment passed before he recollected a brief mistake- weren't the Saiyans called something else now? He moved a finger to scratch out the old Empire's name, but drew his palm away. He couldn't remember what they were called, but Galick figured his allegiance wasn't with their new, softer faction just yet.
LONG STORY SHORT DIED CENTURIES AGO, BUT BROUGHT BACK. DEACTIVATED. WOKE UP IN THIS AGE.
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
The last line was written much quicker and messier, coupled with a skeptical glare from the cyborg. He was in no condition to fight, but he wasn't going to just idly bow and do whatever this lizard ordered if he wanted something that Galick couldn't so readily give.
He had to admire the crafty nature of the Android in finding the oil leaking from his body doubled as an improvised scribing tool. Before it was scribbled out, Chill read the name of the old Saiyan civilization that had toppled his own some 200 years past. Why had the android written such an archaic term? The Saiyan Kingdom was the modern iteration. Chill couldn't fault him too much though, as in the past he'd had some trouble adjusting from the Arcosian Empire name to that of the Fleet.
Then the answer to his question came. Like Chill, this robot was a man slipped out of his own time and stranded in the future without proper bearings and lacking those he'd known in the past for support or answers. Chill saw him hastily scribble his responsive question, and he thought for a moment. What did he want from this conversation? He supposed there wasn't really a purpose. He had initially just been curious about the nature of the strange being. But now, he had found a little piece of common ground from which he could further this exploration of character.
"I am like you. I was frozen for centuries, and am now lost in this future filled with failed successors to the great empires of the old times, and would-be kings with no real claim." Looking at the cyborgs sparking, leaking form he felt the full effects of the Zeigarnik Effect. The task of repairing this android had clearly been left to gather dust in the back of someones mind, and though he might have been an enemy the stress of seeing something so out of order was motivation enough.
As he was about to offer some form of help, he noticed another puff of that near-invisible purple gas and caught a whiff of it. He was familiar with this. Destron, like the gas Director Bosmika had tested on the recruits to weaken them until they died. A little grin curled under his mask. Interesting. "I noticed you keep expelling Destron Gas. That's a tad unusual for a cyborg, don't you think?"
Jun 9, 2021 20:55:38 GMT -6
Yorick Sasaki: this site has a successor what in the hail
Mar 22, 2021 14:13:54 GMT -6
Amara: when i was a lad i ate four dozen eggs
Mar 13, 2021 22:12:28 GMT -6
Nashua: Hey, everyone, Dragon Ball Sparking, this site's successor, is now open for applications! Head on over there to join in on the new adventure! dbsparking.freeforums.net/