Cracking The Books (Open)

    Sparks coursed into the air as a metallic grating ground the once quiet air. Robotic legs staggered several paces forwards before finally giving way alongside a limp, iron arm. The gas around the fallen man remained strong. He no longer had lungs to breathe with, let alone a functional mouth or nose, but Galick found himself continuing to write in the toxic fumes of the Destron Gas his mechanized body hosted. He tried o move his arm or legs, but they wouldn't listen. All he could let out was a droning, mechanical buzz as he brought his one organic arm forwards, pulling his collapsed body forwards.

    His vision flickered with static, swirling yet again. The sensation of loosing feeling in his body was very familiar, but to this degree, the cyborg began to fear that he was going to fall dormant for several hundred years once more. Forcing himself into a sitting position against one of the walls of the building he'd found to take shelter in, Galick turned to rest his head on the withered walls. Outside, he'd just barely be able to notice the skies going dark as his consciousness finally faded...

            That was two months ago.

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        > SYSTEM SCAN RESULT: STABLE.
        > BEGINNING REBOOT...

    The noxious gas that once clouded the battered cyborg's body had faded with time, despite the dense concentration remaining inside his mechanical workings. Into the deeper reaches of the library he'd collapsed into, the once dense greenery had faded. What remained of the vegetation had shriveled into a dead, purple hue. The artificial, musky smell of the gas still lingered, despite it's absence in the air. Slowly, the lights on Galick's body flickered to life again...

    The android's metallic hand reflexively opened and closed a few times as feeling came back to him. Slowly, the cyborg pushed himself from the floor, supporting himself by gripping one of the shelves nearby with his clawed fingers on his robotic palm. The skies still shone their usual green outside, light barely seeping from the cracks in the ceiling. How long was he out this time? A dozen years- maybe another century? Or maybe just a few days- it was hard to tell how much time had passed on this godforsaken planet where everything looked the exact same.

    As his vision flickered back to life, so did the usual buzzing in the back of his head. This time, though, his internal Scouter system was actually working, and there was a power on par with his own nearby. Galick grimaced at the number. It was still hard to believe his power as a Saiyan Elite had fallen to this. Not even a low-class soldier was this weak!

    His robotic body still lagged, still outright unresponsive on some occasions. Even if this person was no stronger than himself, he was in no shape to duke it out with someone. Galick had clenched his robotic hand into a fist out of frustration, flickers of purplish ki flaring from his body. He took a step forwards, but wound up loosing balance yet again, staggering forwards and toppling over a nearby shelf that he barely managed to avoid being crushed by. The robot gripped his head in pain as error messages eclipsed his vision once more, but remained standing with his free hand clenched. That power level was close now- as if today couldn't get any worse.

    Galick steadied his wobbling body once more, forcing his eyes into focus. Finally, the android began to take in his surroundings. It seemed like he was in some kind of library, albeit a very decrepit and abandoned one. The faint, corrupt fog of the Destron Gas still hovered in the air, but its lingering didn't irritate the cyborg. He was it's source, after all.

    There was a window on the other side of the room, too. He could just hop out that way instead of breaking down a wall and causing a scene. At the very least, opening it would get some of the gas out of the building. Galick began to take a few steps forward and swatted the window open, but halted in his tracks as a voice called out. His body jolted again with an electric spark and whir of machinery, but this time he managed to stay upright.

    Yuca would see the silhouetted figure's torso turn his way, the faint sounds of machinery still present. Galick narrowed his eyes and tried to respond with a snarky quip, but again, all that came out was gibberish buzzes and metallic grating. Right- he couldn't exactly verbalize anymore. For a moment he'd just stare back, eyeing the odd humanoid, and the source of the Power Level he'd detected earlier. The same tainted purple glow still flew from his cyborg body every now and then.

    He couldn't pick up any technology on the man either- normally he could communicate via messaging Scouters and the like, but that wasn't an option here. Galick glanced from his escape route back to the Konatsian. Most of the gas had faded, but Galick's mangled, mechanical form would make itself clear either way as he took a few testing steps forward with a limp, still resting his organic hand on the wall for support.

    Once again, he instinctively tried to speak- but once more only glitched clicking came out. He put a hand to his head in frustration with another spark, but kept his eyes locked onto the Konatsian. He wasn't here for a fight, was he?

    Galick took several steps backwards, continuing to keep his harsh glare. He couldn't blame everyone given his current condition, but being looked at like he was some exotic animal in a zoo was getting tiring. A low buzz, almost reminiscent of a growl, instinctively came to while his guard was still raised. He did calm down somewhat when the man introduced himself, holding what seemed to be a capsule. His eyes narrowed again, but moreso out of curiosity rather than hostility now.

    The mute cyborg worked up the guts to take several more paces forwards when Yuca extended his own hand out as a gesture, proclaiming his intent to not fight as well. Keeping his metallic arm by his side still, he'd extend his organic hand to the Konatsian to return the handshake. But of course, when he tried to respond with his name, all that came out was that garbled mess of metallic noises. Galick brought his hand back to his head as another pang flew through his body.

    He opened his eyes again, straightening his form at the mention of his vocal problems. Galick nodded, bending his metallic arm. The exposed wiring's purple fluids seemed to crackle and bubble inside, and he winced as the churning Destron caused him another ache. He tried to gesture to the fluid and back to his face to get the message of "This is the problem" across.

    His apparent help came in an... unexpected shape. Inside the prior capsule was what seemed to be a small harp, which was promptly handed to the bewildered cyborg. He turned it around in his hands as the apparent wizard continued to explain the "magi-tech," giving a quick demonstration as well. Galick blinked, his expression a mixture of continued confusion and awe. He flipped the harp around to what he thought was it's upright position- even though in reality it was upside-down. Galick clearly was not a musician.

    Still, the cyborg hesitated for a moment. The scenario seemed completely unusual- almost stupidly convenient. There was no way this could be that easy.

                [...Testing?] Surprise! It was that easy.

    The cyborg blinked blankly, processing the fact that he just heard his own voice, and not just in his head. He turned the harp around, still utterly bewildered. How was this tiny thing doing all this?! Galick had all but forgotten about the man that had given him the thing in the first place, preoccupied with trying to figure out how the hell that had just happened.