A Galick That Doesn't Gun - Invite Only

    Life had grown quiet and repetitive. Galick didn't mind the change of pace for once- it gave him more time to better attempt to acclimate to his condition. Destron Gas was a deathly substance, capable of stripping stamina from even the strongest fighters. Galick housed the toxic vapor in his very body, immune to most of it's effects- and he could now use it's poisonous powers at his beck and call, to a degree. Still, that didn't mean being a walking container for the death gas was always a pleasant experience.

    Galick had largely taken residence in the Destron Wastes for his training. The toxic smog was at it's thickest in it's depths- anyone who wandered this far out was either suicidally stupid or plain ignorant or stubborn. Many unsuspecting souls had perished, but now they had a cranky cyborg to kick them out before they died. Most of the time.

    The gas tended to move in sporadic waves- like the coming of tides in the sea. Part of the deep crags and ruins had cleared, save for an inch of translucent purple haze lingering on the earth below. Bluffs and ruined structures dotted the rest of the valley, exposed from the usual sea of smog that hid them away. Galick's metallic foot tapped on the ground. He glanced behind him, eyeing the faint tinge of purple start to creep through the city once more. It wouldn't be long before all of this was covered in poison once more, but there was yet another blissful power level nearby, if his scouter was any indication. The word Destron rarely brought good things. Leaving alone a location that was plainly named after the gas seemed like an elementary feat, but here he was. His irritated grumble was quickly morphed into an incoherent string of buzzes.

    After a short flight, the cyborg was only more baffled at the trespasser he'd spotted. Was she writing? Drawing? This was the last place for leisurely activities. The wind stirred as Galick's form was enveloped by his purple aura. Darting to stop above the unsuspecting saiyan, the android would call out to the other saiyan with a grating chain of buzzes and mechanical clicks- it wasn't like he could verbalize much else. The misshapen cyborg narrowed his eyes, turning his head back to the distant ruins behind him. Already, a distant smog of purple had festered over the horizon. Arms crossed, the irritable android gestured with his head back to the distant spires of the Cacumber Capitol. If the woman valued her life, then it'd be wise to move somewhere less deathly.