shepsquared
Erratic Aussie
- Location
- Melbourne, Australia
Android 8 already exists and so does Gero. Assuming he built on previous work instead of having a grand epiphany with his later Androids, the base tech already exists anyway.
A Cooler Broly Saga (DBZ)
Nah, I was referring to the Energy Absorption bit which not only doesn't exist for another ten years, but no one else managed to duplicate. It was also a central feature in making Super 17 relevant as a fight during his arc.
And the only thing that Gero produced on his own that was comparable to a SSJ2 was Perfect Cell, who took nearly 30 years to gestate, required Android 17 and 18 to be ingested to force the necessary evolution, and several Zenkais to reach a level where he would be comparable to Bojack.
As in, the guy that Broly is fully capable of casually murking right now.
As much as I'd like to think otherwise, her role in the story thus far has been exactly the tech issue panacea with nigh instant success. Not really saying she should go out of her way and steal Gero's Thunder on the android tech tree, but it's not entirely a fool's errand to set her in the power research to aid Broly, seeing how just the mention of gravity based tech get him all excited
thats true.
But almost completely irrelevant to the discussion on keeping Broly's battle lust sated, which is, courtesy of Bojack, something we have an opportunity to accomplish
- Location
- United States
Bulma having yet to meet a problem she can't handle is not at all the same as her being infinitely infalliable. Broly's level of power growth is horrifically outside her ability to make something to match him, and always will be - the strongest androids made were Super Perfect Cell (killed by an SSJ2) and Super Android 17 (Dragon Fisted by GT Goku). The first took 30 years to reach Imperfect Form, the second...probably wouldn't ever exist in this timeline anyways.
Bulma could try and probably come up with a robot or weapon that could match or overcome a Super Saiyan - but certainly nothing at a level where Broly could ever feel challenged. Meaning your argument has no merit.
Also - gravity tech? What could Bulma possibly have to offer Broly on that front? Vegeta blew up her gravity chamber when it was set to x500, and there's no mention of it improving since then. That's chump change for Broly and Cooler who spend their sparring time fighting on a rock of intense gravitational pull that turns the entire planet's surface molten.
Canon Bulma had no access to space tech resource, a sounding board to throw around ideas with, or any real reason to push the limit on her tech. The one time she did got Trunks in trouble with SKoT.
Latest scenario on Dragon Ball Heroes had Super 17 fused with 18 with Towa's shenanigans that bodied SSJ4 Goku and Vegeta
Gravity tech likely only got so far in canon because the user are bitches compared to this Broly, and Bulma doesn't exactly want to be an accessory to their murder
Latest scenario on Dragon Ball Heroes had Super 17 fused with 18 with Towa's shenanigans that bodied SSJ4 Goku and Vegeta
Gravity tech likely only got so far in canon because the user are bitches compared to this Broly, and Bulma doesn't exactly want to be an accessory to their murder
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Great Greedy Guts
Ceterum censeo Vigilam esse delendam.
Pretty sure that Bulma can't make something that'd matter to Broly like that. Bulma and Broly working together, on the other hand? Probably more capable.
Likewise, so long as Gero doesn't let the existence of other power sources blind him from his own ideas, he now has a lot more information about strength and extraterrestrial tech, too, most likely. So he might well be able to create even more powerful generators for his Androids. Kinda wonderingwe might if we might see 17 and 18 with both their Infinite Energy things from canon and Energy Absorption stuff as a back-up?
Heck, if he gets his hands on Broly's blaster and shielding tech, that right there might allow him to improve the shielding systems he gave his Androids which were already rather more impressive than is generally acknowledged since they don't, uh... really use them all that often when you'd expect them to.
And, of course, if Cell ever does come back there's a good chance there'll be a bit of Broly in there, too. Should be fun.
Likewise, so long as Gero doesn't let the existence of other power sources blind him from his own ideas, he now has a lot more information about strength and extraterrestrial tech, too, most likely. So he might well be able to create even more powerful generators for his Androids. Kinda wonderingwe might if we might see 17 and 18 with both their Infinite Energy things from canon and Energy Absorption stuff as a back-up?
Heck, if he gets his hands on Broly's blaster and shielding tech, that right there might allow him to improve the shielding systems he gave his Androids which were already rather more impressive than is generally acknowledged since they don't, uh... really use them all that often when you'd expect them to.
And, of course, if Cell ever does come back there's a good chance there'll be a bit of Broly in there, too. Should be fun.
Ysmir01
The one and only Ysmiorra 01ffer
- Location
- Somewhere in Spain
Don't worry, i think that our legendary form is more of a soul think than a biologycal one so 98% sure we won't see a Legendary super perfect Cell
Doesnt Broly's energy signature corrode stuff that isn't Broly excepting his Power Batteries?
And even setting that aside, all that stuff is probably a decade away from now at the very earliest.
You're throwing this decade shit way too often when everything tech revolution that ascend existing tech base had been an arbitrary shit when it comes to named characters, and usually occur within a year while concurrently being worked on with other disciplines
I'm talking about how long it took for Dr. Gero to manufacture the technology.
Sorry for being remotely aware of the timeline?
Great Greedy Guts
Ceterum censeo Vigilam esse delendam.
I think it's a little less time for him to start it, but not for it to become relevant in canon. I don't know how long 17 and 18 were in storage, but it was a pretty long while, and done because they were largely uncontrollable. So it's uncertain when he might actually finish the design -- though I tend to assume he's the one that cyborgizes Taopaipai, and he was much weaker, so... actually, yeah, given that that event is still, I think, about six years out? A decade seems like a reasonable estimation.
Dunno if Gero'd be able to, but the more I think about it, the more I'm wondering about a situation where Bulma modifies the Androids to improve them after the Gero thing is done (if it goes by canon), so that Broly has some help/fights that are closer to his weight class.
What one superscientist cannot do, multiple superscientists likely can. And Broly would be all about making worthwhile opponents that wouldn't just crumble when he fought them, so long as overall they were allies. His sparring with Cooler, after all, is one of the big ways in which the two have grown closer. Even if it took souped-up 17 and 18 together to push him at that stage, I can see him having fun.
Probably not! Buuut it might give Gero some ideas for Cell, even if he can't get the legendary stuff to replicate so much. I can't really see Cell being stronger than Broly, the issue is if Cell is stronger than whoever is on Earth to defend it at the time, and Broly doesn't get there. Hopefully a set of Dragonballs will survive if this comes to pass -- but Gero could also just give up and go home in the intervening time, who knows? It is, after all, a long way out no matter what.
So far? Yeah, I think so. Do I want to assume that there'd be no way to solve that? Not so much.
Dunno if Gero'd be able to, but the more I think about it, the more I'm wondering about a situation where Bulma modifies the Androids to improve them after the Gero thing is done (if it goes by canon), so that Broly has some help/fights that are closer to his weight class.
What one superscientist cannot do, multiple superscientists likely can. And Broly would be all about making worthwhile opponents that wouldn't just crumble when he fought them, so long as overall they were allies. His sparring with Cooler, after all, is one of the big ways in which the two have grown closer. Even if it took souped-up 17 and 18 together to push him at that stage, I can see him having fun.
Definitely a project for the future
Rem
fite me
The implications are clear.
Cooking battle, go!
Why wait for Gero to get his shit together? There is already a couple Gete clones that can be reverse engineered and improved upon
Because Gete Star tech is inferior to Geros technology on top of being stupidly resource intensive to make
And all that did was create an army of fodder that Broly easily took out.
Oh yeah, it can be improved, sure. But it's not the answer you likely think it to be.
Even assuming that it can be studied without self destructing
That's for when we're Cooler again
Okay, sure, let's turn off our brains until then.
Or, we could be Cooler now, by way of considering what we want and how to aim for it before we need to make the choice.
I like the latter option better, personally.
We are completely ignorant of Coolers perspective, and he's the one that has the grasp of the larger situation and the ability to set long term goals
I'm not saying you can't do that your way, just be aware that your intentions will be undergoing a revision once we switch back to Cooler no matter what
Problem is Cooler is being Cooler now, and is clearly already shaping the aftermath in ways we have little way of knowing about, seeing as he's being very cagey with Broly. So plans don't have much basis to be built on right now.
33: Broly brawls, and masters a Magic race
Bob's Beard
I will punch you in the eyeballs with wooooooords!
Year 753
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
As four cyan figures blaze towards you with violent intent and lethal moves, you can't help but feel something tickling at the back of your hind brain, something whispering to your instincts.
...Not your primeval primate instincts, those of the great ape you feel dwells in the soul of any true Saiyan; your intellectual instincts.
And no, you're sure it has nothing to do with the Heran that was provocatively posing a few seconds ago.
...Pretty sure, at least.
You try to track the feeling down as attacks rain upon you. A furious gatling of blows from a grizzled and bearded warrior fired with star-cracking force batter against your Shield like rain upon a roof. It's faint, like a shadow at dusk or yesterday's dream. A dwarven figure explodes with a deluge of psychic Power that tries to exert telekinetic control on you and barely makes your Shield ripple. Trying to divine the oddness' source is vexingly difficult, and seems intent to confound you. The wild maned woman raises her hands, fingers like knives that stab out with brilliant bursts of Energy… that are as ineffective as her comrades'. It's… there's definitely something about the Herans that's making your mind itch, just a little, but what? Even the sword-bearing warrior's furious strike does little more than blunt the edge of his blade.
Were you not in space, the sheer shockwaves of the staccato impacts bursting across your Energy Shield would have been enough to shake a world apart.
But then, that's precisely why you took the fight here and armored the world at your back.
Frowning as much at the utterly expected level of lethal competence futilely exerted against you as you are at the unanswered question, you look upon this world's would-be plunderers, and you wonder. Can those that came here blinded by their own small understanding of strength, who even now show creepers of confusion and fear taking hold behind their bravado really have something of worth? You're halfway tempted to make the obvious conclusion… but the insistent buzz that's so very like-
That's it.
Aspects of what you feel are just like the tingling sensation of Kami's telepathy. Yes, there's a connection here amongst the Herans, a loose end that's resonating with either your Power in general or your Magic in specific. An option that could be taken - that is, if only you can understand what's on the space table. Because as it stands, handy insight or no you still haven't the faintest idea what to do with the creep of odd scraping at your skull. In any other situation, you'd be quite frustrated by such a tantalizing yet pathless problem. But you are not comfortably ensconced in your lab; you have a job to do, and it isn't to study this new mystery. That said, if you just so happen to figure it out along the way, well... no one could blame you for that, right? No one that matters at least.
As you look upon the faces of those that came here with bloodthirsty confidence and now show cracks of uncertainty in their previously absolute bravado, you can't help but smile.
Sometimes, it's the little things in life like sowing fear in those that didn't think it could touch them that really matters in life.
"Stop toying with him." Bojack growls out, his face unreadable - and soldiers that wavered just an instant ago rally with unyielding resolve.
Space warps beneath the furious pressure of unconstrained Power, the four Galaxy Soldiers blasting into flight to ring about you. In front, behind, to either side - they have you surrounded, and with gritted teeth their arms blur. Power is exuded, shaped, condensed and fired, Energy bombarding you from all sides. Oceans of explosive might roar against your Shields, and you watch it all from the eye of the proverbial storm. You feel tongues of blasting force wash the whole way from your space-faring form to the long, sloping shield around the earth; neither barrier comes close to buckling.
Pretty as the strobing lights of their furious yet impotent assault may be, you have a question to answer, and more fun to seek than this. With a mild flex of your bottomless might Power Blasts out of you, a formless ring of your will intensely wrought on reality ripples outwards. It tears through globules of Power fit to crack worlds by the dozen as if they're wet space paper. It barrels straight into the source of the annoying assault, and you watch the Herans briefly compress as they're squashed flat by the blast wave before momentum can catch up.
"Are you done toying with me yet, or should I give you another shot?"
Your snide comment seems largely lost on them as they fixate on how you completely no-sold their offensive; pedants.
You find it more than passing odd that as they recover they look nearly completely unruffled without a scuff to be seen, but you swiftly focus on the exchange between Bojack and his twice-rebuffed forces.
The midget and the swordsman both glance back at Bojack, and at the still-silent warrior's thunderous expression the small one whips around with words spilling from his mouth, finding confidence with every syllable.
"I suppose your cowardice has helped you hone your defensive techniques to impressive levels, but this changes nothing! We will crack your defenses and this world will be our Lord's - of that, there is no doubt! You…"
You know precisely why the little one trailed off, as you can't fully contain the laughter bubbling up your throat.
"No no, do go on about how you'll do anything to the Shields you haven't been able to so much as budge," you reply with a grin that's likely not even close to polite, "I'm listening."
"I-" The turbaned runt starts, but before he can get a word further in his fitful retort the lone woman in the group swiftly takes over.
"Suck him dry," She snarls before raising her hands with a chin dimpled with effort, "Psycho Thread!"
Oh-ho, saying technique names as a Power amplifying mnemonic?
How quaint.
Your Scouter wails reports of oppressively dense Magic in your vicinity, as purple light glimmers off micron-thin strand racing through the void. Your Energy Shield crackles as lines of aggressive hunger try to sink their roots in deep, and barely scratch the surface. With twinkling light the only thing between you, there's no missing how the Heran's confidence continues to crumble in the face of your ever-dauntless defense. You recognize the despair of feeling one's technique fail in their eyes - and it answers a great many questions about the sapping technique that's very much so drawing from your Shields. Namely, that while it's taking your Energy they aren't getting what it takes - otherwise they'd feel their success, no matter what their eyes told them. Where does the energy go, anyway? If it was the Herans, it might be fun to see if you could make them explode like a mosquito filled with too much blood, but apparently it's not - which suggests it's just wasted. It's a limit to the technique - and one you hope to resolve.
You let some 'wires' play between your hands, green flickers and golden flashes marking your own attempt at their technique - and not a one of the Herans miss it.
While the rest just look assorted mixtures of furious, impotent and hesitant, Bojack's face darkens as he grunts, voice echoing where it shouldn't make a sound - and they redouble their efforts. Lilac to violet, purple threads spread through space to wrap about your shield, and with a grin you let your personal defense collapse. You read the shock in the face of the Heran with the body-length mane before you at your seemingly suicidal action - and then with a flick of your hand you let your first attempt at replicating their technique fly. Green and gold meet deep purple, and as the threads meet they intertwine and-
Your Energy Shield snaps back into place mere inches above your skin before ballooning back to it's normal spherical shape, and you grin as a tsunami of planet cracking force washes across Earth with no more effect than their Northern Lights.
As fried space begins to settle down, you find you can't yet pick which you like more; the mysterious feeling the Herans exude that only grew stronger with their spidery assault, or the look of rage painting Bojack's face.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
Silent hatred gives way, and the Galaxy Soldier's leader at last speaks.
"Show him rage." He says with a rough tone dripping with arrogance - and the other Herans obey.
As a pioneer of several forms of Saiyan Transformation you feel you're rather well versed in the field, and you're fairly sure you recognize what's happening. Muscles tense, teeth clench and faces set with effort. Your Scouter shows you the Herans ballooning in Power, double then triple then more… and you can't say you're impressed. So what if their skin is dyed the color of brass, or their hair darkens to the color of blood? So what if muscles bulge and clump outward to make bruisers even more massive? The long and short of it is their transformation uplifted them less than several of your own, and took longer than your Transformations as well.
Hmph; it's not like you needed to be reminded of Saiyan superiority in all matters combative… barring your Lord, of course.
The Herans that now gleam like metal and blood do not zoom forward with an expert's speed, but explode forth amidst waves of crashing Power. Once more they close the gap, features that were once aloof and overbearingly confident now twisted by rage and reckless determination. As fists are wrapped in dense weaves of destructive might and blasts are charged so bright they glow like the distant sun, they throw themselves at you with everything they've got. A crushing fist, an annihilating blast, a cleaving kick, an eradicating ray, a piercing thrust, constrictive threads; they unload with everything they've got, a furious assault that swallows your Energy shield beneath its ferocity.
Their new forms are interesting - not for the Power they hold, but for how much clearer they make the strange sensation you're trying to divine.
You heave a sigh as the seconds drag on, and you Energy Shield still does not so much as bend beneath their efforts.
You pulse your shield, letting it briefly expand in all directions with sudden speed, and it serves as a hammerblow to briefly push your assaulters back.
"Is that really it?" You ask with a voice with undisguised disappointment and knitted brows, "Are you done playing around, or are you still insisting on holding something back?"
Disbelief, raw and ragged takes over the faces of those that have so strived to harm you, and you watch the woman and the bearded one both stare at bloodied fists with an utter lack of comprehension.
"You," the one with the sword calls out in a stilted voice, "how could you-"
"Shut up Kogo," the woman says, at last giving name to someone besides Bojack as she looks at you with the narrow eyes of a cornered animal, "Focus."
"Zangya's right," the bearded one says, neatly naming half of those futilely assaulting you, "We're Lord Bojack's soldiers; something like this isn't enough to stop us."
"Right, right," the midget says with a tone that's got more than a little hope in it, "isn't that right Lord…"
That flickering spark of hope gutters out as the warriors turn back to see their leader-
Openly stunned by his men's complete inability to so much as touch you without your permission - you suspect he's rather used to easy wins by pure dint of overwhelming force.
How sad for him that he chose a target you are guarding, then.
A face briefly slackened by confusion at what he clearly feels should be impossible transforms. Rage sweeps across harshly sculpted features and makes the scar on his face stand out grim and stark, and then all the fresh tension bleeds away. Bojack laughs, the amusement seeming to bubble out of him entirely outside of his control, and he doubles over to manically wheeze. Guffaws and booming laughter rip themselves free of the man as he clutches his gut.. and begins to bulge. Power explodes from his form, an ocean to the other's lakes, and his clothes shred. Muscles bulge out with grotesque intensity, veins writhing like snakes beneath his skin as a greenish brass hue overtakes his flesh and crimson his hair. The now Transformed Bojack throws his arms wide, still laughing - and stars are born.
Within the grasp of each of his outstretched limbs the cosmos twists, pale jade light condensing into flickering stars that pulse with Power. With a furious roar he lashes his hands forward, tossing twinned destruction towards you and leaving it to his underlings to get out of the way. As Herans scatter before their leader's wrath and tiny stars race your way you stand tall, implacable and unyielding. World-snuffing might meets your Energy Shield… with about as much effectiveness as every other attack thrown your way. As energy ripples still flick the collateral might off into the void of space, you decide it would be only appropriate to respond in kind. Green gathers about your hand as you proffer a palm, and with an air of idle curiosity more at home in a lab than on a battlefield you toss it forward, the Eraser Gun screaming towards your target.
For a moment, Bojack looks upon the palm-sized mass of Green racing his way with derision - and then his eyes widen as he throws up his arms and is surrounded by a green sphere.
You can't help your surging interest at seeing a technique so similar to your own, and you give him your undivided attention as he tries to block what he cannot dodge. Erasing energy impacts a shield of the same hue… and your hope of seeing something interesting fades just as Bojack's defenses buckle. As if smote by a fist the size of a world, Bojack recoils in the same sense that a detonating star 'explodes'. Miles, thousands of them - millions spring up between the two of you in an instant, and only your Scouter, still locked on his Power Level can still perceive his presence. A single tap from you and it's as if Bojack no longer exists… and just like that your hope of finding something fun to do here dwindles all the more.
You look to the stunned followers of the leader you just punted across space, and you feel a sense of emptiness at how easy this all is.
You're ready to end things, to close the door on this lackluster encounter… but you don't. Even as you prepared to let all your current Power run free and rampant, the burning question in the back of your mind shifts. That shadow of a feeling that's grown all throughout this engagement grew yet again - precisely when Bojack Transformed. Coupling that with its earlier surge from his soldiers' empowerment, and it seems fairly clear that whatever you feel, it grows stronger right alongside the Herans themselves. Just like that the glass ceiling the Herans seem to have hit becomes irrelevant just like their capacity to oppose you; this is now all about an experiment, and finding enough data to answer a formless question.
You suppose it's time to pump them for information - now, how did Lord Cooler advise you handle unwilling test subjects… ah.
"If you can't do something more interesting than this," you say with an affected yawn, "then I'll have to incentivise you to put in effort."
Your Scouter beeps, Bojack's Power Level blazing a trail back to the 'battlefield', and you smile.
"I imagine you all are averse to both pain and death," you offer with a smile, " yes? Then I suppose I'll drown you in agony you cannot understand until you comply."
The confusion marring the four faces before you doesn't make you hopeful they actually know of what you seek, but that's not going to stop you.
"I wonder," you muse as Bojack races back to the fore of his group, as curiously un-scorched in appearance as the rest of his ilk, "have you ever suffered injuries you couldn't understand or perceive?"
Clenched teeth and palely tightened fists are your only response; you begin to sigh as Bojack once more compels his warriors to charge you, this time taking point.
Your sigh stops mid-inhalation, Magically charged lungs taking hold of the flow of time around you and-
And failing to stop the Herans before you, who look just as shocked as you feel.
Your instincts howl through your poleaxed confusion that this right here, is the core of the oddity that's hounded your thoughts since you first started blocking the Herans.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
Stars frozen mid-twinkle all around you, the world at your back locked in place by a dearth of time, you find yourself faced with an impossibility.
Breath of Time did not stop time for the Herans, and they seem to be going mad with joy over the unexpected outcome.
"Heh-hah-hah-hah-HAH-HAH-HAH!" Bojack roars more than laughs as he throws his arms wide, "To think you'd damn yourself to uplift us!"
Grins that gleam and maddened smugness pour out of the five figures before you, not a one of them less joyous than their leader.
"You think I've damned myself? A bold claim from those that could not so much as touch me without my permission."
Bojack's laughter continues with unbridled abandon, a breathless wheeze that has no place on a battlefield.
Then the laughter stops, and your Scouter explodes.
For just a brief moment it registered such a massive influx of Power and active Magic that even the hardy structure of your Materialized device fails - and that's before you see any visible change in the Herans. Even as metals, polymers and plastics dissolve into motes of light, oceans - no, solar systems of potence spill from the Herans, their brassy skin lit with a fire from within. Your instincts howl that they are now dangerous, and a long denied part of you hopes even as it snarls. What were once minor nuisances now have your undivided attention - and throughout it all you feel all the closer to understanding the strange impression the Herans have given you from the outside.
Still, mysteries or no there are formalities to follow, and your Lord would never let you live it down if you failed to uphold them.
"So you're no longer ants barely worthy of being noticed before me," you murmur with suppressed interest as your eyes flicker between the fivesome that seem forged of pure confidence, "All that means is that you just might be able to entertain me."
Bojack, Kogo and the bearded one all laugh uproariously, looking between themselves as if considering how to respond to a child, while a malicious light burns in the eyes of the other two.
"To think you'd be so blind that you can't see your demise in the making," Kogo offers, casually tousling his hair as he pulls forth a flute from his sash, "If you cannot mourn your soon to be ignoble passing, then I'll do it for you, in thanks for what you've given us."
As a reedy dirge springs forth from the carved bone instrument, Bojack nods at the midget that once more takes center stage, this time with a far more settled sort of self-assurance.
"Whatever may have happened before is irrelevant."
"Oh?"
The mournful tune skips a beat at your flippant reply, and you see something dark flicker in the eyes of the leanest Heran.
"You've pulled higher beings of Magic long lost into a realm of the same, and now we gorge on your Power, making it our own!"
That explains their confusion, then; they were expecting you to be weakened by sapping; how adorable.
"Every bit of might you could call forth when crafting this realm, all of us now possess," The midget continues and suddenly you find yourself caring a bit more, "Our copied might every bit as real as yours."
"So you needed to piggyback a superior warrior's prowess to have a chance then," you paraphrase with a grin, "forgive me if I'm not impressed."
Your words have their intended effect, as the bearded Heran seems intent on charging you and attempting to beat respect - or perhaps fear - into your bones.
The way their leader stops him makes you all the more intrigued.
"...You will not so easily find escape in death by taunting us," Bojack orates with the air of an ancient king, "as you've proven yourself useful to us."
The Heran chops his hand across his bare chest, and the realm between moments quivers beneath the weight of his - of your - Power.
"I shall give you this one chance to submit to us, to let us make you our new Source," he continues with such weight on that one word you know it means something special, "all you must do is kneel, and relinquish your defenses around the world at your back."
You make no effort to hide the derisive snort that springs to your lips at his words.
"And if I refuse?"
The boogeyman of the PTO of generations past smiles at you, the expression as baleful as it's supposed to be genial.
"Then we'll grind your bones, split your flesh, rip off your limbs and make you our Source; we're more accustomed to stationary Sources anyway, so it'd hardly be an imposition for us. You, however, may not enjoy it."
The Herans spread around you, a five person ring taking shape as Bojack regards you with steely eyes.
"So what shall it be; life in servitude, or suffering and ineffectual rebellion?"
"Ineffectual? You think I couldn't beat you?"
The midget laughs as the flute-playing Kogo's tune turns mocking.
"You could beat us no more easily than you could beat five copies of yourself - don't delude yourself!"
You can't help it; you start laughing, nearly as breathlessly as Bojack did, the guffaws ripping their way out of your throat.
In the eyes of most of the Herans you see confidence warping your reaction into that of a madman - but two of them, the bearded warrior and the long haired femme fatale both sport flickers of doubt in their otherwise untouchable poise.
"I could say the same to you," you growl back with a leer twisting your face into a demonic and brutal mask, "now, come."
Honestly, you're getting tired of having a pissing match and no actual fight of substance to go with it: they'd better deliver in a hurry.
The Herans heed your words, and a battle outside of time commences.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
A yellow-green fist finds your side, and ribs crumple like space cardboard even as you backhand the offender away. Coiling wires of sapping Magic dig into your arm, and you yank the limb free, blood flying as you smash an Eraser Gun point blank into your attacker's face. A sword so cloaked in Power you can't even see it bites deep into your thigh, and with a furious flex you hold the blade still as you smash aside your attacker. Your Energy Shield yet again tries to reassert itself, but Bojack's suddenly in your face, jade-wrapped hands coiling about your skull. An Eye Flash briefly blinds your oppressive attacker, and you feel more than hear the sizzle of your ears burning off as you push through his grasp and headbutt him aside. Having bought yourself a tiny moment's breathing room you flood your body with Magic, regeneration taking hold-
The Herans' coordinated assault resurges as inevitably as the tide, and the battle rages on.
A pair of Herans move in, too fast to dodge and both hands filled with fell intent. Lacking enough arms to block the both of them you force the issue, Magic throbbing as you sprout an extra pair of arms. Fists meet palms as you catch their assault and crush it, the wet snap of bones transmitting through your clenching fingers just before the detonating Power blows your digits away. You flood your mangled limbs with recuperative force even as you sprout even more limbs, just barely in time to deflect another brutal sword slice with an Energy Blade.
You shift, you writhe and you adapt - and it's just barely enough to keep you from being overwhelmed. You're as hard pressed as you've been in the most trying of your Lord's training sessions.
With a pure and unfiltered grin of joy on your face, you know you wouldn't have it any other way - you're finally having fun!
Spying a chance amidst the ever-shifting medley of supersoldiers trying to push in your face, your arm lashes out, a new limb growing from the outstretched palm. You just barely manage to snag the wrist of the passing midget, and with a heavy heave they briefly become your makeshift weapon. Smashing them against their allies to open up some space you then fling them into Bojack's approach, and as the Heran smashes his subordinate aside you use the bought instant wisely. The warped realm outside of time shines with a brilliant light, and you materialize a planet before you, the Herans buried throughout its mass. As they rage to free themselves from such trifling if massive restraint you cup your hands together, and with a crackle of Power you let loose a purely Destructive Eraser, the harsh light painting everything green.
A world dies as soon as it's born - and out of the ruin fly the Herans, as blood-drunk on the fight as you.
You keep fighting, struggling, breaking and healing with a smile on your lips, and a question nearly answered in your mind. Perhaps it's because the Herans and whatever aspect of them is calling to you have ballooned in scale to match your own might - or perhaps it's from all the hits to the head. Regardless of the cause you feel like your proverbial fingertips are dusting across the answer you've been seeking, and the sheer closeness of your goal is maddening. More than the flesh burning off your bones, it is this almost that you're obsessed with - and were it not for a lifetime's experience having fighting methods beaten into your body and instincts alike, that might be a problem for you.
As it is, the part of you consumed with a question lacking words notes your violent struggle with an almost clinical detachment, utterly at odds with your undiluted, burning joy.
The midget and the bearded one both rush in close, Kogo hot on their heels with his sword held high. Fists and feet fly so fast that were there air it would be igniting from the sheer friction of their passing, and your shoulders play host to a dozen limbs as you smash attacks against attacks, facing their assault head on. The midget's blows falter first and you knock him aside - but not fast enough, as right out of his shadow Kogo springs, sword levelled at your gut. There's no time - you accept the blade even as your Power burns against its sudden presence, and with four separate arms you hack down at Kogo's strike with the strongest Energy Blades you can muster. The Heran's hand is severed amidst a burst of blue smoke, his sword left in your side-
Bojack and his female minion both drive handfuls of explosive Power into your back, and you feel skin boil and a spine crack.
Briefly paralyzed and awash with pain or no… your laughter doesn't stop.
This… is exactly what you wanted, and you'll enjoy every minute of it! A chance to struggle, to strive, to push yourself beyond the petty constraints that have become your life. Here and now it doesn't matter what worlds are near you, who must be kept unaware of your might; in this place outside of time born solely from your will, you fight. No punches are pulled, no attacks sealed off due to their destructive might; you face foes that can take it, and you're thankful for every time they manage to hurt you. It's a jubilant reminder that those who can challenge you still exist, and at least some of them will happily give you the deathmatches you want.
As your body and instincts sing their joy to the heavens, your mind keeps studying everything around you, and the answer grows all the closer.
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All good things must come to an end; an inevitability of existence itself.
The same proves true here, as a raging blow from Bojack driving an orb of burning green light into your side… does not live up to expectations. What was once enough to vaporize flesh, incinerate muscle and scorch bone is now only able to make you bruised and bloody. Strikes that could see you reeling for miles budge you little more than a handful of feet. Psychothreads you had to dodge or be bound by can no longer withstand your attempts to sunder them - and even your Energy Shield can manage to endure a few blows before it starts to crack.
Your Saiyan blood and your constant flirting with death have done what they're supposed to do, and helped you evolve.
Even as some of the cannier of Bojack's warriors slow their assaults and see, their leader is too blind to change his ways.
The Galaxy Soldier's leader drops an elbow on your brow with everything he's got - and you simply stare at him as you're utterly unmoved. Rather than even process the failure Bojack strikes out anew only for his fist to impotently meet your resurging Energy Shield. Blow after grit-toothed blow slams into the orb that once more surrounds you… and the result is the same. Taking a sedate breath a few feet away from a fighter giving his all to cause you pain, you look upon the Herans and find what you see pleasing. The towering heights of pride and confidence they'd reached after being dragged into your realm have crashed down to new lows, and they look upon you like a child looking at a monster they just learned is real.
Only Bojack still seems intent on denying reality - and his efforts no longer amuse you.
"I suppose that was a decent attempt," you admit, voice resonating with your Shield so loudly it overshadows the sounds of Bojack's desperation-fueled strikes, "but it was not, and never will be enough. Look."
You let waves of Power wash over your flesh, scouring dried blood and more from your once more pristine form - you even Materialize new clothes to complete your immaculate appearance.
"...What are you gawking at," you grunt as Bojack's jaw goes slack, "Did you think I would just roll over and die, or surrender just because you gave me a few light hits? Did you really think attacks like those even mattered?"
You give them credit - at least the Herans aren't retreating as they visibly start to choke on the grim reality of the situation.
"You must be used to pathetic heroes brashly claiming they could do what to them is impossible - they are not me. I do not waste my time making empty boasts… and I told you from the beginning that your resistance was utterly pointless."
The midget, the woman, maybe even the bearded one - several Herans lose that confident sparkle in their eyes as the weight of defeat falls down upon them.
"You're probably so short-sighted that you think this is my full Power," You say, less as a threat and more an observation, "Allow me to disabuse you of that foolish notion."
With a grin you reach deep, and beneath gold and Legend alike you take hold of something Green, and wrench it to the surface.
The Power tightly coiled around your flesh explodes outward like a heavenly spider's web, cascading over the whole of the realm you crafted. Golden light and blue bolts of current rage all around, and you watch the Herans defend themselves from your mere transformative presence. You grin through gritted teeth as your flesh warps, brow growing heavier and boiling off it's hair even as your locks grow long down your back. You dwell in Power itself, and like a vortex it floods into your form - and you evolve.
Having ascended into a form more like a star wrought into the guise of man, so very beyond the petty mystical beings before you, you offer them a malicious grin.
For his part, Bojack seems the blindest of his men as he shoots forth an arm that visibly trembles with uncertainty as he screams his defiance.
"You think unveiling your true Power changes anything!? This is still a realm made out of your Magic, and the connection to your strength is still there! We'll claim this like we did the last, and this time we'll crush you like the bug you are!"
You chuckle just the once, a half-smile twisting your features as you throw your arms wide in welcome.
"Again you delude yourself into thinking you've seen my peak? ...So be it; struggle for all you're worth, and do what you can to rise to my heights."
Even though they'd fearfully hung on your words, when Bojack turns to face them Kogu and the bearded warrior nod, and you feel it. Like fingers scrabbling across your skin, they try to take hold of your Ascended might, to take the quintessence of pure Super Saiyan Power as their own.
They become little more than towering funeral pyres as Power beyond their ken quite literally burns right through them, leaving not even ash in its wake.
You see it then, the moment that the midget and the woman give up completely as what should be their trump card slays their comrades - and you see how Bojack has no such moment.
"Just as I thought," he roars with a tone dancing between confidence and madness, "This… this Power, this moment, all of it was foreordained! Yes, this is my moment to rise to Godhood by squeezing the might from-"
"Blah blah blah," you say as you flap a hand to show how much you care about Bojack's inane chatter, "Stop blowing hot air and do something, if you have the guts."
Pupils dilate in utter shock as you interrupt Bojack to belittle his grandiose claims - and then he roars like a wounded monster. Clutching at the same metaphysical connection his minions failed to grasp he pulls at your Power - and this time, you think you know how to stop him. You don't of course, completely content to let him take all he thinks he can… and you watch the show.
Flesh is not pulled taut - it tears around muscles that bulge too hard, blue blood waterfalling down his body. Veins don't bulge, they wholly pop free like writhing snakes, twisting around his breaking form. Pain, sharp and stark scours all but pride and hate from the Heran's visage, and grimly squinted eyes both bulge and glow with intensity. Shuddering and visibly wracked with pain, Bojack hunches over, grunting and panting - and then he raises his head just long enough to give you a lethal grin.
Power does not rush out, explode forth or anything so paltry; Power novas around Bojack as he moves a thousandfold faster than before, light crawling sluggishly around his rush straight towards you, face first.
The undiluted, wrathful ego on his face finally shatters as with an upraised hand you catch his mighty blow, and as the impact makes your realm outside of time start to crumble, you laugh.
"This is it," you derisively chortle as you feel the hand in your grasp starting to burn away from Power beyond its command, "This one punch is all you can manage?"
You lean close, your grip sure even as the increasingly on-fire Bojack struggles to pull it free, and you whisper from mere inches away.
"Even this is only a tiny scrap of what I can command; you are nothing."
Bojack replies with an anguished wail, as his very being simple unravels like a popped space balloon around that which it cannot sustain.
As time rushes in to fill the gaps left by your sundered realm outside its grasp, you throw back your head and laugh: you've just about figured out what's scratched at your curiousity from the outset, and you have two Herans left to experiment with.
You didn't expect to satiate your martial and scientific needs today, but by the capricious gods you enjoy it.
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The Energy Shield around Earth ripples, warbles and shimmers as it sheds the last of the cataclysmic power that washed over it's form: now only a pristine, glowing orb sits at your back as you stare at the last two of the five that came for this world.
Looking upon these two, the last of their race who only moments ago were archetypal overconfident warriors, you see exactly what you expected.
Fear swaddled around them more tightly than any armor. Disbelief and a jaded sense of despair chokes the faces of those that saw their world view shattered. Bodies of brass fade back to cyan not willfully, but incidentally as troubled minds can no longer sustain them. You look upon a pair of warriors broken by your very nature… and it is good.
Doubly so, since now you can finally see if you found the answer you sought since the start of this laughable engagement.
"Don't resist," you say, less as a command or caution and more as an afterthought as you let your Magic flow along pathways ephemeral. The Herans stand as still as stone, frozen by no technique other than fear itself - and as your streamers make contact with the midget you act. Parasitic connection, ability to instantly filter and convert, guided by their own ability; yes, you think you could invert this system, bind them to your-
The midget explodes in a shower of blue gore, unable to even scream before he's in pieces that swiftly dissolve into smoke; what is now the last Heran trembles as she wonders if the same fate awaits her.
...Well; no one gets it entirely right on the first try, yes?
You studiously choose to ignore Bulma's very existence, and consider your final test subject.
Lightly feeling at the Magical connection-to-be radiating from her existence, you decide that, perhaps, being monstrously more potent than that which you which to interface might be skewing things. As such you slowly exhale, relaxation finding its way into shrinking muscles as you let Ascension - and then Legend fade away. Soon you're merely a Super Saiyan - and as you note the connection you perceived is no less clear for it, you regress fully to your base state. You brush a hand through your sable locks, briefly frowning as you feel the patch of stubbly hair where you had had half your face melted off, and you make a mental note to ask Bulma for more of that instant hair-growth formula of hers.
Staring at the last Heran, you decide that enough is enough, and you're tired of simply calling her 'the woman'.
"You," you say as if there was anyone else here for you to address, "tell me your name."
You watch a war fought within a body, as instincts scream at her to flee, to prostrate herself, to do anything but be here - yet her will keeps her standing and mostly maintaining eye contact.
"...Zangya," a voice like a crystal's hum offers, listless defeat warring with the demands of pride in her tone, "My name is Zangya, Lord…?"
"Broly," you provide, "Now then; I suggest you do whatever you can to work with what I'm about to do, if you don't wish to suffer the same fate as your comrades."
Bright eyes widen beneath a wild mane's fringe, and while her mouth opens to respond all that springs forth is a choked gasp as you begin.
This time you are no sledgehammer trying to manage a paper-thin nail; you are a scalpel tracing out a path. With Power lesser to that which makes up her very being you delve into that mind-itching sensation, you reach deep and lash out with your Magic… and witness opposed forces blending. Cold blue light that feels old and dead plumps as vibrant green vitality roots into its withered tendrils. Open ended incompleteness becomes whole as you fill in the gaps, and all the while you watch Zangya's eyes rolling back into her head as cyan froth foams about her lips. You watch her twitching form, attentive for any sign of rejection or collapse… but her trance-like state holds, and finally subsides as you finish.
The Heran Zangya, now last of her people slowly finds herself again, and for a moment you seem forgotten as she looks at her hands with naked wonder, seeing something far deeper than the flesh.
"So far it seems successful," you muse more to yourself than anyone else as a few more prodding wedges of Power trace across her existence in a final check, "but I'm still not sure what that is that I revived within you."
You wait, watching to see if your leading question will suffice - but she's still utterly enthralled with whatever she sees within.
"Well then; do you know what it is I reawoke within you? I'm hoping it's something of worth, as if not I'd rather not waste time on a pointless pr-"
"You replaced my world," the pale blue figure softly whispers with a sense of almost childish wonder, "You… gods forged the furnace that gave us eternity, and when a god destroyed it that was supposed to be the end… but… but…"
Fear, despair, and even a mantle of grim necessity you hadn't even noticed all fall away, and the woman that had been doing her level best to kill you on the orders of her former lord offers you a tearful smile as wide and open as any you've seen.
"You gave me back my identity as a Heran," She chokes out as her throat heaves and misty eyes crinkle, "I… I'm not bound to this one life anymore."
Oh? Oh-ho; that sounded rather like what you just did is something that matters - and if you're reading between the lines correctly, it's something rather like Immortality.
"Have I? Well regardless of what you may feel that means, listen well as I tell you what it actually means."
You float closer, stopping only a few feet away from a warrior that no longer seems interested in being on guard against you by the slightest bit.
"You are going to do precisely what I say, do only what I allow, and you will serve me in any way necessary so that I can fully pry apart the Magical nature you possess."
You lean in towards the figure you utterly tower over, brows knit with foreboding gravity.
"Do you understand?"
You can't quite tell if you expect fear or rejection more from her, and as you're making ready to Erase her if she proves untenable you bear witness to something you did not expect.
The Heran Zangya falls to her knees before you, genuflecting without hesitation as what could only be called tears of joy fall from her face.
"There is nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn't give, for what you've restored to me… Lord Broly."
...Well; that's certainly a bit more acceptance than you expected!
But can you trust it? Sure, the Herans didn't do anything explicitly treacherous in the brief time you knew them, but that doesn't mean they're incapable of deceit. Affecting sudden gratitude and loyalty to a being you know you can't beat is a well-established defense mechanism to those willing to abandon their pride. She could be attempting to play you, to set you up for a later betrayal… but what could she do? She certainly can't harm you, and it'd take but a thought to flex the connection you just built so hard that it rips her apart. No, you have nothing to fear from her… but everything that you'd lay claim to does. The Earth, the Dragonballs, Bulma, Capsule Corp. - any of it would be but a trifle to destroy for a being as strong as this, and you're uncertain if whatever it is you've started here is worth that risk. She says she's given you her loyalty and there is something intriguing here for you to study… but is that cause enough to take such a risk?
No instant answer springs to mind, and you deliberate as you look down upon the still-kneeling Zangya.
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With all but one Heran purged and the last one bound with his Magic, Broly chooses to:
[] - Bring her home. The PTO is a massive cosmic empire replete with plenty of safe places to properly study a being capable of snuffing stars; where better to study her?
[] - Bring her to Capsule Corp. Bulma and her father are, bar none the smartest individuals you interact with, and if anyone can help you puzzle out the intricacies of what you started, it'd be them.
[] - Bring her to Kami. Earth's Guardian is a helpful sort with plenty of connections, and between him, Guru and the Otherworld bureaucracy you're confidentsomeone knows what you've done and can explain it.
[] - Erase her. Whatever you may be able to learn from the last of her kind is not worth a minion that turned coat in the face of something that could unmake her.
[X] - Ignore her in favor of your Lord. Zangya is patently unable to be a threat to you, and you've waited long enough to return to where you belong; she'll follow you to Cooler's side, or she'll perish as she becomes worthless to you.
- - - [X] - Before you leave you'll check in with Bulma. You need to go back to Cooler, but you're not going to abandon her without a word again. There's no need to parade Zangya before her, and you'll assuage any worries she might have about you leaving with a reminder of why you find her captivating and maybe materializing her something nice.
- - - [X] - To present Zangya to Cooler you'll need to debrief her and learn what other skills, abilities, information, and inclinations she has -- and how she can best be made useful to you. Perhaps she can be hidden as a sister of Salza's, as the resemblance is rather canny?
- - - [X] - Zangya may have been a Galaxy Soldier, but that doesn't mean she's up to PTO standards in matters non-martial. You'll go over the basics of behaviour, personnel, and keeping a low profile she will need to know, and give her a suitable Power Level on the wider Scouter network.
[] - Write in!
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As four cyan figures blaze towards you with violent intent and lethal moves, you can't help but feel something tickling at the back of your hind brain, something whispering to your instincts.
...Not your primeval primate instincts, those of the great ape you feel dwells in the soul of any true Saiyan; your intellectual instincts.
And no, you're sure it has nothing to do with the Heran that was provocatively posing a few seconds ago.
...Pretty sure, at least.
You try to track the feeling down as attacks rain upon you. A furious gatling of blows from a grizzled and bearded warrior fired with star-cracking force batter against your Shield like rain upon a roof. It's faint, like a shadow at dusk or yesterday's dream. A dwarven figure explodes with a deluge of psychic Power that tries to exert telekinetic control on you and barely makes your Shield ripple. Trying to divine the oddness' source is vexingly difficult, and seems intent to confound you. The wild maned woman raises her hands, fingers like knives that stab out with brilliant bursts of Energy… that are as ineffective as her comrades'. It's… there's definitely something about the Herans that's making your mind itch, just a little, but what? Even the sword-bearing warrior's furious strike does little more than blunt the edge of his blade.
Were you not in space, the sheer shockwaves of the staccato impacts bursting across your Energy Shield would have been enough to shake a world apart.
But then, that's precisely why you took the fight here and armored the world at your back.
Frowning as much at the utterly expected level of lethal competence futilely exerted against you as you are at the unanswered question, you look upon this world's would-be plunderers, and you wonder. Can those that came here blinded by their own small understanding of strength, who even now show creepers of confusion and fear taking hold behind their bravado really have something of worth? You're halfway tempted to make the obvious conclusion… but the insistent buzz that's so very like-
That's it.
Aspects of what you feel are just like the tingling sensation of Kami's telepathy. Yes, there's a connection here amongst the Herans, a loose end that's resonating with either your Power in general or your Magic in specific. An option that could be taken - that is, if only you can understand what's on the space table. Because as it stands, handy insight or no you still haven't the faintest idea what to do with the creep of odd scraping at your skull. In any other situation, you'd be quite frustrated by such a tantalizing yet pathless problem. But you are not comfortably ensconced in your lab; you have a job to do, and it isn't to study this new mystery. That said, if you just so happen to figure it out along the way, well... no one could blame you for that, right? No one that matters at least.
As you look upon the faces of those that came here with bloodthirsty confidence and now show cracks of uncertainty in their previously absolute bravado, you can't help but smile.
Sometimes, it's the little things in life like sowing fear in those that didn't think it could touch them that really matters in life.
"Stop toying with him." Bojack growls out, his face unreadable - and soldiers that wavered just an instant ago rally with unyielding resolve.
Space warps beneath the furious pressure of unconstrained Power, the four Galaxy Soldiers blasting into flight to ring about you. In front, behind, to either side - they have you surrounded, and with gritted teeth their arms blur. Power is exuded, shaped, condensed and fired, Energy bombarding you from all sides. Oceans of explosive might roar against your Shields, and you watch it all from the eye of the proverbial storm. You feel tongues of blasting force wash the whole way from your space-faring form to the long, sloping shield around the earth; neither barrier comes close to buckling.
Pretty as the strobing lights of their furious yet impotent assault may be, you have a question to answer, and more fun to seek than this. With a mild flex of your bottomless might Power Blasts out of you, a formless ring of your will intensely wrought on reality ripples outwards. It tears through globules of Power fit to crack worlds by the dozen as if they're wet space paper. It barrels straight into the source of the annoying assault, and you watch the Herans briefly compress as they're squashed flat by the blast wave before momentum can catch up.
"Are you done toying with me yet, or should I give you another shot?"
Your snide comment seems largely lost on them as they fixate on how you completely no-sold their offensive; pedants.
You find it more than passing odd that as they recover they look nearly completely unruffled without a scuff to be seen, but you swiftly focus on the exchange between Bojack and his twice-rebuffed forces.
The midget and the swordsman both glance back at Bojack, and at the still-silent warrior's thunderous expression the small one whips around with words spilling from his mouth, finding confidence with every syllable.
"I suppose your cowardice has helped you hone your defensive techniques to impressive levels, but this changes nothing! We will crack your defenses and this world will be our Lord's - of that, there is no doubt! You…"
You know precisely why the little one trailed off, as you can't fully contain the laughter bubbling up your throat.
"No no, do go on about how you'll do anything to the Shields you haven't been able to so much as budge," you reply with a grin that's likely not even close to polite, "I'm listening."
"I-" The turbaned runt starts, but before he can get a word further in his fitful retort the lone woman in the group swiftly takes over.
"Suck him dry," She snarls before raising her hands with a chin dimpled with effort, "Psycho Thread!"
Oh-ho, saying technique names as a Power amplifying mnemonic?
How quaint.
Your Scouter wails reports of oppressively dense Magic in your vicinity, as purple light glimmers off micron-thin strand racing through the void. Your Energy Shield crackles as lines of aggressive hunger try to sink their roots in deep, and barely scratch the surface. With twinkling light the only thing between you, there's no missing how the Heran's confidence continues to crumble in the face of your ever-dauntless defense. You recognize the despair of feeling one's technique fail in their eyes - and it answers a great many questions about the sapping technique that's very much so drawing from your Shields. Namely, that while it's taking your Energy they aren't getting what it takes - otherwise they'd feel their success, no matter what their eyes told them. Where does the energy go, anyway? If it was the Herans, it might be fun to see if you could make them explode like a mosquito filled with too much blood, but apparently it's not - which suggests it's just wasted. It's a limit to the technique - and one you hope to resolve.
You let some 'wires' play between your hands, green flickers and golden flashes marking your own attempt at their technique - and not a one of the Herans miss it.
While the rest just look assorted mixtures of furious, impotent and hesitant, Bojack's face darkens as he grunts, voice echoing where it shouldn't make a sound - and they redouble their efforts. Lilac to violet, purple threads spread through space to wrap about your shield, and with a grin you let your personal defense collapse. You read the shock in the face of the Heran with the body-length mane before you at your seemingly suicidal action - and then with a flick of your hand you let your first attempt at replicating their technique fly. Green and gold meet deep purple, and as the threads meet they intertwine and-
Your Energy Shield snaps back into place mere inches above your skin before ballooning back to it's normal spherical shape, and you grin as a tsunami of planet cracking force washes across Earth with no more effect than their Northern Lights.
As fried space begins to settle down, you find you can't yet pick which you like more; the mysterious feeling the Herans exude that only grew stronger with their spidery assault, or the look of rage painting Bojack's face.
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Silent hatred gives way, and the Galaxy Soldier's leader at last speaks.
"Show him rage." He says with a rough tone dripping with arrogance - and the other Herans obey.
As a pioneer of several forms of Saiyan Transformation you feel you're rather well versed in the field, and you're fairly sure you recognize what's happening. Muscles tense, teeth clench and faces set with effort. Your Scouter shows you the Herans ballooning in Power, double then triple then more… and you can't say you're impressed. So what if their skin is dyed the color of brass, or their hair darkens to the color of blood? So what if muscles bulge and clump outward to make bruisers even more massive? The long and short of it is their transformation uplifted them less than several of your own, and took longer than your Transformations as well.
Hmph; it's not like you needed to be reminded of Saiyan superiority in all matters combative… barring your Lord, of course.
The Herans that now gleam like metal and blood do not zoom forward with an expert's speed, but explode forth amidst waves of crashing Power. Once more they close the gap, features that were once aloof and overbearingly confident now twisted by rage and reckless determination. As fists are wrapped in dense weaves of destructive might and blasts are charged so bright they glow like the distant sun, they throw themselves at you with everything they've got. A crushing fist, an annihilating blast, a cleaving kick, an eradicating ray, a piercing thrust, constrictive threads; they unload with everything they've got, a furious assault that swallows your Energy shield beneath its ferocity.
Their new forms are interesting - not for the Power they hold, but for how much clearer they make the strange sensation you're trying to divine.
You heave a sigh as the seconds drag on, and you Energy Shield still does not so much as bend beneath their efforts.
You pulse your shield, letting it briefly expand in all directions with sudden speed, and it serves as a hammerblow to briefly push your assaulters back.
"Is that really it?" You ask with a voice with undisguised disappointment and knitted brows, "Are you done playing around, or are you still insisting on holding something back?"
Disbelief, raw and ragged takes over the faces of those that have so strived to harm you, and you watch the woman and the bearded one both stare at bloodied fists with an utter lack of comprehension.
"You," the one with the sword calls out in a stilted voice, "how could you-"
"Shut up Kogo," the woman says, at last giving name to someone besides Bojack as she looks at you with the narrow eyes of a cornered animal, "Focus."
"Zangya's right," the bearded one says, neatly naming half of those futilely assaulting you, "We're Lord Bojack's soldiers; something like this isn't enough to stop us."
"Right, right," the midget says with a tone that's got more than a little hope in it, "isn't that right Lord…"
That flickering spark of hope gutters out as the warriors turn back to see their leader-
Openly stunned by his men's complete inability to so much as touch you without your permission - you suspect he's rather used to easy wins by pure dint of overwhelming force.
How sad for him that he chose a target you are guarding, then.
A face briefly slackened by confusion at what he clearly feels should be impossible transforms. Rage sweeps across harshly sculpted features and makes the scar on his face stand out grim and stark, and then all the fresh tension bleeds away. Bojack laughs, the amusement seeming to bubble out of him entirely outside of his control, and he doubles over to manically wheeze. Guffaws and booming laughter rip themselves free of the man as he clutches his gut.. and begins to bulge. Power explodes from his form, an ocean to the other's lakes, and his clothes shred. Muscles bulge out with grotesque intensity, veins writhing like snakes beneath his skin as a greenish brass hue overtakes his flesh and crimson his hair. The now Transformed Bojack throws his arms wide, still laughing - and stars are born.
Within the grasp of each of his outstretched limbs the cosmos twists, pale jade light condensing into flickering stars that pulse with Power. With a furious roar he lashes his hands forward, tossing twinned destruction towards you and leaving it to his underlings to get out of the way. As Herans scatter before their leader's wrath and tiny stars race your way you stand tall, implacable and unyielding. World-snuffing might meets your Energy Shield… with about as much effectiveness as every other attack thrown your way. As energy ripples still flick the collateral might off into the void of space, you decide it would be only appropriate to respond in kind. Green gathers about your hand as you proffer a palm, and with an air of idle curiosity more at home in a lab than on a battlefield you toss it forward, the Eraser Gun screaming towards your target.
For a moment, Bojack looks upon the palm-sized mass of Green racing his way with derision - and then his eyes widen as he throws up his arms and is surrounded by a green sphere.
You can't help your surging interest at seeing a technique so similar to your own, and you give him your undivided attention as he tries to block what he cannot dodge. Erasing energy impacts a shield of the same hue… and your hope of seeing something interesting fades just as Bojack's defenses buckle. As if smote by a fist the size of a world, Bojack recoils in the same sense that a detonating star 'explodes'. Miles, thousands of them - millions spring up between the two of you in an instant, and only your Scouter, still locked on his Power Level can still perceive his presence. A single tap from you and it's as if Bojack no longer exists… and just like that your hope of finding something fun to do here dwindles all the more.
You look to the stunned followers of the leader you just punted across space, and you feel a sense of emptiness at how easy this all is.
You're ready to end things, to close the door on this lackluster encounter… but you don't. Even as you prepared to let all your current Power run free and rampant, the burning question in the back of your mind shifts. That shadow of a feeling that's grown all throughout this engagement grew yet again - precisely when Bojack Transformed. Coupling that with its earlier surge from his soldiers' empowerment, and it seems fairly clear that whatever you feel, it grows stronger right alongside the Herans themselves. Just like that the glass ceiling the Herans seem to have hit becomes irrelevant just like their capacity to oppose you; this is now all about an experiment, and finding enough data to answer a formless question.
You suppose it's time to pump them for information - now, how did Lord Cooler advise you handle unwilling test subjects… ah.
"If you can't do something more interesting than this," you say with an affected yawn, "then I'll have to incentivise you to put in effort."
Your Scouter beeps, Bojack's Power Level blazing a trail back to the 'battlefield', and you smile.
"I imagine you all are averse to both pain and death," you offer with a smile, " yes? Then I suppose I'll drown you in agony you cannot understand until you comply."
The confusion marring the four faces before you doesn't make you hopeful they actually know of what you seek, but that's not going to stop you.
"I wonder," you muse as Bojack races back to the fore of his group, as curiously un-scorched in appearance as the rest of his ilk, "have you ever suffered injuries you couldn't understand or perceive?"
Clenched teeth and palely tightened fists are your only response; you begin to sigh as Bojack once more compels his warriors to charge you, this time taking point.
Your sigh stops mid-inhalation, Magically charged lungs taking hold of the flow of time around you and-
And failing to stop the Herans before you, who look just as shocked as you feel.
Your instincts howl through your poleaxed confusion that this right here, is the core of the oddity that's hounded your thoughts since you first started blocking the Herans.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
Stars frozen mid-twinkle all around you, the world at your back locked in place by a dearth of time, you find yourself faced with an impossibility.
Breath of Time did not stop time for the Herans, and they seem to be going mad with joy over the unexpected outcome.
"Heh-hah-hah-hah-HAH-HAH-HAH!" Bojack roars more than laughs as he throws his arms wide, "To think you'd damn yourself to uplift us!"
Grins that gleam and maddened smugness pour out of the five figures before you, not a one of them less joyous than their leader.
"You think I've damned myself? A bold claim from those that could not so much as touch me without my permission."
Bojack's laughter continues with unbridled abandon, a breathless wheeze that has no place on a battlefield.
Then the laughter stops, and your Scouter explodes.
For just a brief moment it registered such a massive influx of Power and active Magic that even the hardy structure of your Materialized device fails - and that's before you see any visible change in the Herans. Even as metals, polymers and plastics dissolve into motes of light, oceans - no, solar systems of potence spill from the Herans, their brassy skin lit with a fire from within. Your instincts howl that they are now dangerous, and a long denied part of you hopes even as it snarls. What were once minor nuisances now have your undivided attention - and throughout it all you feel all the closer to understanding the strange impression the Herans have given you from the outside.
Still, mysteries or no there are formalities to follow, and your Lord would never let you live it down if you failed to uphold them.
"So you're no longer ants barely worthy of being noticed before me," you murmur with suppressed interest as your eyes flicker between the fivesome that seem forged of pure confidence, "All that means is that you just might be able to entertain me."
Bojack, Kogo and the bearded one all laugh uproariously, looking between themselves as if considering how to respond to a child, while a malicious light burns in the eyes of the other two.
"To think you'd be so blind that you can't see your demise in the making," Kogo offers, casually tousling his hair as he pulls forth a flute from his sash, "If you cannot mourn your soon to be ignoble passing, then I'll do it for you, in thanks for what you've given us."
As a reedy dirge springs forth from the carved bone instrument, Bojack nods at the midget that once more takes center stage, this time with a far more settled sort of self-assurance.
"Whatever may have happened before is irrelevant."
"Oh?"
The mournful tune skips a beat at your flippant reply, and you see something dark flicker in the eyes of the leanest Heran.
"You've pulled higher beings of Magic long lost into a realm of the same, and now we gorge on your Power, making it our own!"
That explains their confusion, then; they were expecting you to be weakened by sapping; how adorable.
"Every bit of might you could call forth when crafting this realm, all of us now possess," The midget continues and suddenly you find yourself caring a bit more, "Our copied might every bit as real as yours."
"So you needed to piggyback a superior warrior's prowess to have a chance then," you paraphrase with a grin, "forgive me if I'm not impressed."
Your words have their intended effect, as the bearded Heran seems intent on charging you and attempting to beat respect - or perhaps fear - into your bones.
The way their leader stops him makes you all the more intrigued.
"...You will not so easily find escape in death by taunting us," Bojack orates with the air of an ancient king, "as you've proven yourself useful to us."
The Heran chops his hand across his bare chest, and the realm between moments quivers beneath the weight of his - of your - Power.
"I shall give you this one chance to submit to us, to let us make you our new Source," he continues with such weight on that one word you know it means something special, "all you must do is kneel, and relinquish your defenses around the world at your back."
You make no effort to hide the derisive snort that springs to your lips at his words.
"And if I refuse?"
The boogeyman of the PTO of generations past smiles at you, the expression as baleful as it's supposed to be genial.
"Then we'll grind your bones, split your flesh, rip off your limbs and make you our Source; we're more accustomed to stationary Sources anyway, so it'd hardly be an imposition for us. You, however, may not enjoy it."
The Herans spread around you, a five person ring taking shape as Bojack regards you with steely eyes.
"So what shall it be; life in servitude, or suffering and ineffectual rebellion?"
"Ineffectual? You think I couldn't beat you?"
The midget laughs as the flute-playing Kogo's tune turns mocking.
"You could beat us no more easily than you could beat five copies of yourself - don't delude yourself!"
You can't help it; you start laughing, nearly as breathlessly as Bojack did, the guffaws ripping their way out of your throat.
In the eyes of most of the Herans you see confidence warping your reaction into that of a madman - but two of them, the bearded warrior and the long haired femme fatale both sport flickers of doubt in their otherwise untouchable poise.
"I could say the same to you," you growl back with a leer twisting your face into a demonic and brutal mask, "now, come."
Honestly, you're getting tired of having a pissing match and no actual fight of substance to go with it: they'd better deliver in a hurry.
The Herans heed your words, and a battle outside of time commences.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
A yellow-green fist finds your side, and ribs crumple like space cardboard even as you backhand the offender away. Coiling wires of sapping Magic dig into your arm, and you yank the limb free, blood flying as you smash an Eraser Gun point blank into your attacker's face. A sword so cloaked in Power you can't even see it bites deep into your thigh, and with a furious flex you hold the blade still as you smash aside your attacker. Your Energy Shield yet again tries to reassert itself, but Bojack's suddenly in your face, jade-wrapped hands coiling about your skull. An Eye Flash briefly blinds your oppressive attacker, and you feel more than hear the sizzle of your ears burning off as you push through his grasp and headbutt him aside. Having bought yourself a tiny moment's breathing room you flood your body with Magic, regeneration taking hold-
The Herans' coordinated assault resurges as inevitably as the tide, and the battle rages on.
A pair of Herans move in, too fast to dodge and both hands filled with fell intent. Lacking enough arms to block the both of them you force the issue, Magic throbbing as you sprout an extra pair of arms. Fists meet palms as you catch their assault and crush it, the wet snap of bones transmitting through your clenching fingers just before the detonating Power blows your digits away. You flood your mangled limbs with recuperative force even as you sprout even more limbs, just barely in time to deflect another brutal sword slice with an Energy Blade.
You shift, you writhe and you adapt - and it's just barely enough to keep you from being overwhelmed. You're as hard pressed as you've been in the most trying of your Lord's training sessions.
With a pure and unfiltered grin of joy on your face, you know you wouldn't have it any other way - you're finally having fun!
Spying a chance amidst the ever-shifting medley of supersoldiers trying to push in your face, your arm lashes out, a new limb growing from the outstretched palm. You just barely manage to snag the wrist of the passing midget, and with a heavy heave they briefly become your makeshift weapon. Smashing them against their allies to open up some space you then fling them into Bojack's approach, and as the Heran smashes his subordinate aside you use the bought instant wisely. The warped realm outside of time shines with a brilliant light, and you materialize a planet before you, the Herans buried throughout its mass. As they rage to free themselves from such trifling if massive restraint you cup your hands together, and with a crackle of Power you let loose a purely Destructive Eraser, the harsh light painting everything green.
A world dies as soon as it's born - and out of the ruin fly the Herans, as blood-drunk on the fight as you.
You keep fighting, struggling, breaking and healing with a smile on your lips, and a question nearly answered in your mind. Perhaps it's because the Herans and whatever aspect of them is calling to you have ballooned in scale to match your own might - or perhaps it's from all the hits to the head. Regardless of the cause you feel like your proverbial fingertips are dusting across the answer you've been seeking, and the sheer closeness of your goal is maddening. More than the flesh burning off your bones, it is this almost that you're obsessed with - and were it not for a lifetime's experience having fighting methods beaten into your body and instincts alike, that might be a problem for you.
As it is, the part of you consumed with a question lacking words notes your violent struggle with an almost clinical detachment, utterly at odds with your undiluted, burning joy.
The midget and the bearded one both rush in close, Kogo hot on their heels with his sword held high. Fists and feet fly so fast that were there air it would be igniting from the sheer friction of their passing, and your shoulders play host to a dozen limbs as you smash attacks against attacks, facing their assault head on. The midget's blows falter first and you knock him aside - but not fast enough, as right out of his shadow Kogo springs, sword levelled at your gut. There's no time - you accept the blade even as your Power burns against its sudden presence, and with four separate arms you hack down at Kogo's strike with the strongest Energy Blades you can muster. The Heran's hand is severed amidst a burst of blue smoke, his sword left in your side-
Bojack and his female minion both drive handfuls of explosive Power into your back, and you feel skin boil and a spine crack.
Briefly paralyzed and awash with pain or no… your laughter doesn't stop.
This… is exactly what you wanted, and you'll enjoy every minute of it! A chance to struggle, to strive, to push yourself beyond the petty constraints that have become your life. Here and now it doesn't matter what worlds are near you, who must be kept unaware of your might; in this place outside of time born solely from your will, you fight. No punches are pulled, no attacks sealed off due to their destructive might; you face foes that can take it, and you're thankful for every time they manage to hurt you. It's a jubilant reminder that those who can challenge you still exist, and at least some of them will happily give you the deathmatches you want.
As your body and instincts sing their joy to the heavens, your mind keeps studying everything around you, and the answer grows all the closer.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
All good things must come to an end; an inevitability of existence itself.
The same proves true here, as a raging blow from Bojack driving an orb of burning green light into your side… does not live up to expectations. What was once enough to vaporize flesh, incinerate muscle and scorch bone is now only able to make you bruised and bloody. Strikes that could see you reeling for miles budge you little more than a handful of feet. Psychothreads you had to dodge or be bound by can no longer withstand your attempts to sunder them - and even your Energy Shield can manage to endure a few blows before it starts to crack.
Your Saiyan blood and your constant flirting with death have done what they're supposed to do, and helped you evolve.
Even as some of the cannier of Bojack's warriors slow their assaults and see, their leader is too blind to change his ways.
The Galaxy Soldier's leader drops an elbow on your brow with everything he's got - and you simply stare at him as you're utterly unmoved. Rather than even process the failure Bojack strikes out anew only for his fist to impotently meet your resurging Energy Shield. Blow after grit-toothed blow slams into the orb that once more surrounds you… and the result is the same. Taking a sedate breath a few feet away from a fighter giving his all to cause you pain, you look upon the Herans and find what you see pleasing. The towering heights of pride and confidence they'd reached after being dragged into your realm have crashed down to new lows, and they look upon you like a child looking at a monster they just learned is real.
Only Bojack still seems intent on denying reality - and his efforts no longer amuse you.
"I suppose that was a decent attempt," you admit, voice resonating with your Shield so loudly it overshadows the sounds of Bojack's desperation-fueled strikes, "but it was not, and never will be enough. Look."
You let waves of Power wash over your flesh, scouring dried blood and more from your once more pristine form - you even Materialize new clothes to complete your immaculate appearance.
"...What are you gawking at," you grunt as Bojack's jaw goes slack, "Did you think I would just roll over and die, or surrender just because you gave me a few light hits? Did you really think attacks like those even mattered?"
You give them credit - at least the Herans aren't retreating as they visibly start to choke on the grim reality of the situation.
"You must be used to pathetic heroes brashly claiming they could do what to them is impossible - they are not me. I do not waste my time making empty boasts… and I told you from the beginning that your resistance was utterly pointless."
The midget, the woman, maybe even the bearded one - several Herans lose that confident sparkle in their eyes as the weight of defeat falls down upon them.
"You're probably so short-sighted that you think this is my full Power," You say, less as a threat and more an observation, "Allow me to disabuse you of that foolish notion."
With a grin you reach deep, and beneath gold and Legend alike you take hold of something Green, and wrench it to the surface.
The Power tightly coiled around your flesh explodes outward like a heavenly spider's web, cascading over the whole of the realm you crafted. Golden light and blue bolts of current rage all around, and you watch the Herans defend themselves from your mere transformative presence. You grin through gritted teeth as your flesh warps, brow growing heavier and boiling off it's hair even as your locks grow long down your back. You dwell in Power itself, and like a vortex it floods into your form - and you evolve.
Having ascended into a form more like a star wrought into the guise of man, so very beyond the petty mystical beings before you, you offer them a malicious grin.
For his part, Bojack seems the blindest of his men as he shoots forth an arm that visibly trembles with uncertainty as he screams his defiance.
"You think unveiling your true Power changes anything!? This is still a realm made out of your Magic, and the connection to your strength is still there! We'll claim this like we did the last, and this time we'll crush you like the bug you are!"
You chuckle just the once, a half-smile twisting your features as you throw your arms wide in welcome.
"Again you delude yourself into thinking you've seen my peak? ...So be it; struggle for all you're worth, and do what you can to rise to my heights."
Even though they'd fearfully hung on your words, when Bojack turns to face them Kogu and the bearded warrior nod, and you feel it. Like fingers scrabbling across your skin, they try to take hold of your Ascended might, to take the quintessence of pure Super Saiyan Power as their own.
They become little more than towering funeral pyres as Power beyond their ken quite literally burns right through them, leaving not even ash in its wake.
You see it then, the moment that the midget and the woman give up completely as what should be their trump card slays their comrades - and you see how Bojack has no such moment.
"Just as I thought," he roars with a tone dancing between confidence and madness, "This… this Power, this moment, all of it was foreordained! Yes, this is my moment to rise to Godhood by squeezing the might from-"
"Blah blah blah," you say as you flap a hand to show how much you care about Bojack's inane chatter, "Stop blowing hot air and do something, if you have the guts."
Pupils dilate in utter shock as you interrupt Bojack to belittle his grandiose claims - and then he roars like a wounded monster. Clutching at the same metaphysical connection his minions failed to grasp he pulls at your Power - and this time, you think you know how to stop him. You don't of course, completely content to let him take all he thinks he can… and you watch the show.
Flesh is not pulled taut - it tears around muscles that bulge too hard, blue blood waterfalling down his body. Veins don't bulge, they wholly pop free like writhing snakes, twisting around his breaking form. Pain, sharp and stark scours all but pride and hate from the Heran's visage, and grimly squinted eyes both bulge and glow with intensity. Shuddering and visibly wracked with pain, Bojack hunches over, grunting and panting - and then he raises his head just long enough to give you a lethal grin.
Power does not rush out, explode forth or anything so paltry; Power novas around Bojack as he moves a thousandfold faster than before, light crawling sluggishly around his rush straight towards you, face first.
The undiluted, wrathful ego on his face finally shatters as with an upraised hand you catch his mighty blow, and as the impact makes your realm outside of time start to crumble, you laugh.
"This is it," you derisively chortle as you feel the hand in your grasp starting to burn away from Power beyond its command, "This one punch is all you can manage?"
You lean close, your grip sure even as the increasingly on-fire Bojack struggles to pull it free, and you whisper from mere inches away.
"Even this is only a tiny scrap of what I can command; you are nothing."
Bojack replies with an anguished wail, as his very being simple unravels like a popped space balloon around that which it cannot sustain.
As time rushes in to fill the gaps left by your sundered realm outside its grasp, you throw back your head and laugh: you've just about figured out what's scratched at your curiousity from the outset, and you have two Herans left to experiment with.
You didn't expect to satiate your martial and scientific needs today, but by the capricious gods you enjoy it.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
The Energy Shield around Earth ripples, warbles and shimmers as it sheds the last of the cataclysmic power that washed over it's form: now only a pristine, glowing orb sits at your back as you stare at the last two of the five that came for this world.
Looking upon these two, the last of their race who only moments ago were archetypal overconfident warriors, you see exactly what you expected.
Fear swaddled around them more tightly than any armor. Disbelief and a jaded sense of despair chokes the faces of those that saw their world view shattered. Bodies of brass fade back to cyan not willfully, but incidentally as troubled minds can no longer sustain them. You look upon a pair of warriors broken by your very nature… and it is good.
Doubly so, since now you can finally see if you found the answer you sought since the start of this laughable engagement.
"Don't resist," you say, less as a command or caution and more as an afterthought as you let your Magic flow along pathways ephemeral. The Herans stand as still as stone, frozen by no technique other than fear itself - and as your streamers make contact with the midget you act. Parasitic connection, ability to instantly filter and convert, guided by their own ability; yes, you think you could invert this system, bind them to your-
The midget explodes in a shower of blue gore, unable to even scream before he's in pieces that swiftly dissolve into smoke; what is now the last Heran trembles as she wonders if the same fate awaits her.
...Well; no one gets it entirely right on the first try, yes?
You studiously choose to ignore Bulma's very existence, and consider your final test subject.
Lightly feeling at the Magical connection-to-be radiating from her existence, you decide that, perhaps, being monstrously more potent than that which you which to interface might be skewing things. As such you slowly exhale, relaxation finding its way into shrinking muscles as you let Ascension - and then Legend fade away. Soon you're merely a Super Saiyan - and as you note the connection you perceived is no less clear for it, you regress fully to your base state. You brush a hand through your sable locks, briefly frowning as you feel the patch of stubbly hair where you had had half your face melted off, and you make a mental note to ask Bulma for more of that instant hair-growth formula of hers.
Staring at the last Heran, you decide that enough is enough, and you're tired of simply calling her 'the woman'.
"You," you say as if there was anyone else here for you to address, "tell me your name."
You watch a war fought within a body, as instincts scream at her to flee, to prostrate herself, to do anything but be here - yet her will keeps her standing and mostly maintaining eye contact.
"...Zangya," a voice like a crystal's hum offers, listless defeat warring with the demands of pride in her tone, "My name is Zangya, Lord…?"
"Broly," you provide, "Now then; I suggest you do whatever you can to work with what I'm about to do, if you don't wish to suffer the same fate as your comrades."
Bright eyes widen beneath a wild mane's fringe, and while her mouth opens to respond all that springs forth is a choked gasp as you begin.
This time you are no sledgehammer trying to manage a paper-thin nail; you are a scalpel tracing out a path. With Power lesser to that which makes up her very being you delve into that mind-itching sensation, you reach deep and lash out with your Magic… and witness opposed forces blending. Cold blue light that feels old and dead plumps as vibrant green vitality roots into its withered tendrils. Open ended incompleteness becomes whole as you fill in the gaps, and all the while you watch Zangya's eyes rolling back into her head as cyan froth foams about her lips. You watch her twitching form, attentive for any sign of rejection or collapse… but her trance-like state holds, and finally subsides as you finish.
The Heran Zangya, now last of her people slowly finds herself again, and for a moment you seem forgotten as she looks at her hands with naked wonder, seeing something far deeper than the flesh.
"So far it seems successful," you muse more to yourself than anyone else as a few more prodding wedges of Power trace across her existence in a final check, "but I'm still not sure what that is that I revived within you."
You wait, watching to see if your leading question will suffice - but she's still utterly enthralled with whatever she sees within.
"Well then; do you know what it is I reawoke within you? I'm hoping it's something of worth, as if not I'd rather not waste time on a pointless pr-"
"You replaced my world," the pale blue figure softly whispers with a sense of almost childish wonder, "You… gods forged the furnace that gave us eternity, and when a god destroyed it that was supposed to be the end… but… but…"
Fear, despair, and even a mantle of grim necessity you hadn't even noticed all fall away, and the woman that had been doing her level best to kill you on the orders of her former lord offers you a tearful smile as wide and open as any you've seen.
"You gave me back my identity as a Heran," She chokes out as her throat heaves and misty eyes crinkle, "I… I'm not bound to this one life anymore."
Oh? Oh-ho; that sounded rather like what you just did is something that matters - and if you're reading between the lines correctly, it's something rather like Immortality.
"Have I? Well regardless of what you may feel that means, listen well as I tell you what it actually means."
You float closer, stopping only a few feet away from a warrior that no longer seems interested in being on guard against you by the slightest bit.
"You are going to do precisely what I say, do only what I allow, and you will serve me in any way necessary so that I can fully pry apart the Magical nature you possess."
You lean in towards the figure you utterly tower over, brows knit with foreboding gravity.
"Do you understand?"
You can't quite tell if you expect fear or rejection more from her, and as you're making ready to Erase her if she proves untenable you bear witness to something you did not expect.
The Heran Zangya falls to her knees before you, genuflecting without hesitation as what could only be called tears of joy fall from her face.
"There is nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn't give, for what you've restored to me… Lord Broly."
...Well; that's certainly a bit more acceptance than you expected!
But can you trust it? Sure, the Herans didn't do anything explicitly treacherous in the brief time you knew them, but that doesn't mean they're incapable of deceit. Affecting sudden gratitude and loyalty to a being you know you can't beat is a well-established defense mechanism to those willing to abandon their pride. She could be attempting to play you, to set you up for a later betrayal… but what could she do? She certainly can't harm you, and it'd take but a thought to flex the connection you just built so hard that it rips her apart. No, you have nothing to fear from her… but everything that you'd lay claim to does. The Earth, the Dragonballs, Bulma, Capsule Corp. - any of it would be but a trifle to destroy for a being as strong as this, and you're uncertain if whatever it is you've started here is worth that risk. She says she's given you her loyalty and there is something intriguing here for you to study… but is that cause enough to take such a risk?
No instant answer springs to mind, and you deliberate as you look down upon the still-kneeling Zangya.
(1) - (2) - (3) - (4) - (5) - (6) - (7)
With all but one Heran purged and the last one bound with his Magic, Broly chooses to:
[] - Bring her to Capsule Corp. Bulma and her father are, bar none the smartest individuals you interact with, and if anyone can help you puzzle out the intricacies of what you started, it'd be them.
[] - Bring her to Kami. Earth's Guardian is a helpful sort with plenty of connections, and between him, Guru and the Otherworld bureaucracy you're confident
[] - Erase her. Whatever you may be able to learn from the last of her kind is not worth a minion that turned coat in the face of something that could unmake her.
[X] - Ignore her in favor of your Lord. Zangya is patently unable to be a threat to you, and you've waited long enough to return to where you belong; she'll follow you to Cooler's side, or she'll perish as she becomes worthless to you.
- - - [X] - Before you leave you'll check in with Bulma. You need to go back to Cooler, but you're not going to abandon her without a word again. There's no need to parade Zangya before her, and you'll assuage any worries she might have about you leaving with a reminder of why you find her captivating and maybe materializing her something nice.
- - - [X] - To present Zangya to Cooler you'll need to debrief her and learn what other skills, abilities, information, and inclinations she has -- and how she can best be made useful to you. Perhaps she can be hidden as a sister of Salza's, as the resemblance is rather canny?
- - - [X] - Zangya may have been a Galaxy Soldier, but that doesn't mean she's up to PTO standards in matters non-martial. You'll go over the basics of behaviour, personnel, and keeping a low profile she will need to know, and give her a suitable Power Level on the wider Scouter network.
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zecorezecron
Verified Asshole
- Location
- Washington
Ouch. I'm torn between having Kami help s out and hauling her back to Cooler. on one hand, if the Kais can tell us what happened, maybe we can recreate it and boost up Cooler. On the other, two super duper super soldiers are better than one.
notthepenguins
Neither Spherical Nor Frictionless
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
Hmmm. Interesting set of options.
[] - Bring her home. The PTO is a massive cosmic empire replete with plenty of safe places to properly study a being capable of snuffing stars; where better to study her?
Risks King Cold and Frieza finding out that we threw down with the Herans and won -- meaning it risks Frieza getting serious and training up.
[] - Bring her to Capsule Corp. Bulma and her father are, bar none the smartest individuals you interact with, and if anyone can help you puzzle out the intricacies of what you started, it'd be them.
Risks Capsule Corp and Earth physically, as well as risks information about why Earth -- a planet which is unfortunately not in Cooler's territory -- is so important to us.
[] - Bring her to Kami. Earth's Guardian is a helpful sort with plenty of connections, and between him, Guru and the Otherworld bureaucracy you're confident someone knows what you've done and can explain it.
The Kais may lose their shit; it sounds like we just undid or rebuilt something they deliberately did to weaken or punish the Herans. On the other hand, they and Kami are the most likely to know what's up. On the third, recently-grown-from-our-side hand, risks Earth and information about our interest in and relationship to Namekians and the Dragonballs to them.
[] - Ignore her in favor of your Lord. Zangya is patently unable to be a threat to you, and you've waited long enough to return to where you belong; she'll follow you to Cooler's side, or she'll perish as she becomes worthless to you.
Same risks as bringing her home, and more unknown risks based upon whatever the situation with Cooler is. Bad plan.
[] - Erase her. Whatever you may be able to learn from the last of her kind is not worth a minion that turned coat in the face of something that could unmake her.
Wasteful and stupid. Bad plan.
Edit: we were contemplating setting up an outpost in a star system near Earth -- that may be something to consider for write ins, as it lessens the immediate risk to Earth and our interests there while still allowing us to easily move people back and forth from Earth when needed.
[] - Bring her home. The PTO is a massive cosmic empire replete with plenty of safe places to properly study a being capable of snuffing stars; where better to study her?
Risks King Cold and Frieza finding out that we threw down with the Herans and won -- meaning it risks Frieza getting serious and training up.
[] - Bring her to Capsule Corp. Bulma and her father are, bar none the smartest individuals you interact with, and if anyone can help you puzzle out the intricacies of what you started, it'd be them.
Risks Capsule Corp and Earth physically, as well as risks information about why Earth -- a planet which is unfortunately not in Cooler's territory -- is so important to us.
[] - Bring her to Kami. Earth's Guardian is a helpful sort with plenty of connections, and between him, Guru and the Otherworld bureaucracy you're confident someone knows what you've done and can explain it.
The Kais may lose their shit; it sounds like we just undid or rebuilt something they deliberately did to weaken or punish the Herans. On the other hand, they and Kami are the most likely to know what's up. On the third, recently-grown-from-our-side hand, risks Earth and information about our interest in and relationship to Namekians and the Dragonballs to them.
[] - Ignore her in favor of your Lord. Zangya is patently unable to be a threat to you, and you've waited long enough to return to where you belong; she'll follow you to Cooler's side, or she'll perish as she becomes worthless to you.
Same risks as bringing her home, and more unknown risks based upon whatever the situation with Cooler is. Bad plan.
[] - Erase her. Whatever you may be able to learn from the last of her kind is not worth a minion that turned coat in the face of something that could unmake her.
Wasteful and stupid. Bad plan.
Edit: we were contemplating setting up an outpost in a star system near Earth -- that may be something to consider for write ins, as it lessens the immediate risk to Earth and our interests there while still allowing us to easily move people back and forth from Earth when needed.
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