Time demands a turnaround

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Thick haze. Throbbing skin and aching veins. Vocado stumbled, senses screaming at him. This new ability, useful as it seemed to be, was a stressful curse. As the days rolled on, he became further in tune with it. Even so, the migraines persisted.

Stopping in the city was, of course, a terrible idea. Clutching his head in pain, he trudged across the districts, stopping in alleyways here and there to catch his breath. What was he even here for? Something caught his ear on a patrol. Strange whispers on the wind.

Rosemary was gone, and someone very familiar was in her place.

Try as he might to make it to the palace to learn the truth, he couldn’t come close. So here he sat, cursing himself as he entered a quiet, seemingly closed marketplace.

Something approached. A silent something. He could only detect the thing because he couldn’t detect it. Wheeling around, he was faced with a void of Chi. An Android he knew from another lifetime.

”Kalabas,” he regarded plainly, the migraine subsiding. ”I suppose I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Vocado suspected cold scorn. Chastising words and the usual, insurmountable smarm that Kalabas was seemingly born with, but it hadn’t come. In its stead was the best imitation of comforting words that the mercenary could muster. It brought a chuckle to his lips.

Folding his arms, he nodded. ”Thanks, I suppose. Pitt was a good man. Better than either of us, that’s for sure. Better still now that he’s been laid to rest— no more sins to commit in the depths.”

Surely that was a lie. Out of any Saiyan alive, surely Pitt would make it to whatever version of heaven existed, if even there were one.

”Guessin’ that was your attempt at breaking the ice? What’d you actually hunt me down for, Kal?”

Well, at least there was some semblance of emotion underneath the wires and calculations. Vocado smiled, genuinely this time, but it soon faded as Kalabas explained his reason for coming. At first, there was a grim look on the mans face, but he couldn’t help but… Laugh?

Yes. Laughter. He chuckled, morphing into a full hearty laugh, before being stifled by the groan of pain. His migraine hit him again, though it was little more than a jab at his frontal lobe instead of the usual full stab through his entire brain.

Finally calming down, he leaned on the wall for support, and explained.

”That kid sure gets around huh? Maybe you won’t be surprised to learn she’s my niece. Our family has a muddy history— you have my sister’s wonderful bastard of a husband to thank for her being shipped off to backwater space. Hibernal did good raising her.” A more morally righteous man might’ve added that it was the only good thing he’d done in his life, but Vocado refrained.

”She and I have been meeting up plenty lately. In fact, we went to face Azoth a couple weeks ago. It’s why I got these damn migraines.”

Pushing off the wall, he tapped the side of his noggin, and winced just a bit.

”He transformed. Some kind’ve crazy new ability of his. Just one attack was all it took to put me down. Ever since I’ve been… Flooded with information. Like… Like I can see people’s combat power. They call it Ki or Chi, I think.”

For a moment, he thought to explain that he couldn’t see Kalabas the same way. It was as if he had no Ki to sense; no life force to see. But, surely, the half-dead cyborg knew that much already.

”If she’s asking for your help, she must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel for that plan of hers.” His tone was joking. Sarcastic in all the ways he used to be when they ran the trenches together. ”Guess that makes three against one, right? Assuming we find some way to eviscerate whatever allies he’s making before we try to face him again, that is.”

There wasn’t much doubt in his mind that Kalabas would be upset. Miffed, maybe, or a tad concerned, but this level of fury was almost insulting. Being that they knew one another for so long, he’d expected the cyborg to get a general sense for his thought process, but it was evident that their time apart had driven a wedge in the memories.

He listened, giving the Saiya-bot time to express his anger. When he was done, he opted to ignore the insults and simply respond… Well, he tried to. What came out was far more agitated than he’d intended.

”Well screw you too!”

He folded his arms, as if he was in the right.

”Do you forget who she is? She’s a Bonewood; through and through. A Saiyan bloodline that’s been through hell and back! Her being alive is proof that she’s strong, and the punches she tosses out? Hell— you and I both know she outpaces us.” Vocado stepped closer, his finger prodding Kalabas’ chest with a sharp and self-righteous indignation. ”Two years? TWO YEARS?! Do you hear yourself? Look around you, Kal! Haven’t you noticed something? We’ve been getting stronger— not just us, not just Saiyans! Everybody has been gaining power at an exponential rate. Think about it: how strong were you when the year began? Definitely nothing close to this I remember that much about you. And yet somehow we’re clearing hundreds of thousands of units in Battle Power.”

There was a point to all this. A madman’s theory. Coincidence turned philosophy. Pulling away, he gestured to the street, and then wildly to the buildings.

”Azoth only unlocked this absurd strength recently. It had to have been within the last few months; he’s not the type to make such a crazy play as gunning for Emperor without being able to kick the competition’s ass.” This was, of course, a bold claim. He’d known Azoth for all of six minutes, and it was mostly spent grunting and cursing at one another. ”If he could become so strong, why not us? That legend, the Super Saiyan? It’s one of us. I’m sure of it.”

For a moment, he was silent. A defiant frown on his face.

”Don’t laugh. Don’t quip at me like you always do either. Just think about it for two damn seconds. Connect the dots. People have been growing impatient all across the Galaxy. Didn’t you hear about that crap on Namek? It’s not just coincidence. Something big is coming, and we’re gonna be at the helm.”

”Sitting around on some backwater planet for two years will do nothing but slow us down. We need strife. Real battles! Something that’ll push us to the brink and let us keep pushing!”

"I told you not to quip...!"

There it was. Hidden beneath the smarm and discontent was understanding. He knew, deep down, that Kalabas had to agree. In some way shape or form they were on the same wavelength now, but their methods were still at odds. This was nothing new, of course, but it seemed his cybernetic enhancements had dulled his sense of adventure so much that it couldn't even cut air.

"I know you think there's merit to my theory. If you didn't you'd have walked away already and you know it." How true that was couldn't be quantified. In the years since they ran missions together, a lot had changed for both of them. He reacted a bit at the accusatory jab, but didn't make much effort to retaliate just yet.

His hand came up shortly after he'd decided to let it be, though. Gripping the cyborg's wrist (though certainly not enough to cause any discomfort, if he could even feel such a thing anymore), he stared seriously into the mechanical, logical eyes across from him. There was tension there, for a moment. He wanted to break into a smile, but refrained.

"He already failed to kill me. I know he wanted to, too. I egged him on..." In a smaller voice, he admitted what he'd said: "Maybe sorta suggested I was going to genocide the Arcosian race but--" He waved his hand dismissively and continued. "It was harder than I should have gone, admittedly, but it gave me plenty of insight into his character. That attack he sent my way shook me to my core; ruptured plenty of things, and yet I kept up all the same. If he's this insurmountable thing, then how could I have escaped his wrath? He didn't WANT me to live, and yet I did."

Was this an attempt to boost his own ego? Just a tad. Maybe more than a tad, but it was more to the point of explaining that there was a point to all of this. A chance, thin as a needle and as obtuse as a haystack, but a chance all the same.

His grip relented, and he looked away as Kalabas inquired about Namek.

"A whisper of a story, I suppose. Heard it from more than one reputable source." He lied a little bit about that last part. It was a single source, and they'd only met the once. "Those angel things... Kai's? Always thought they were myths, but apparently they're real, and real rowdy too. Couple of them tried to conquer Namek, and almost succeeded. I fought a girl who faced them personally, and from what I could sense about her strength she outclassed the both of us, and she was just a Konatsian!"

Stray bits of trash began to rain down on them. An odd pile of gray slime slapped the ground between them with a wet flopping noise.

"What I mean to say is the galaxy is shifting. Azoth may be the first, but he's far from the only one to find this unseen strength. His existence proves that legend we grew up hearing isn't just a fairytale."

Finally, he turned back around to Kalabas. "It could be you or I, maybe it's Ise or Taori. Hell, it could've been Yangcong's half-breed corpse for all I know, but it's out there. That power is swimming within the bones of Plant, and I assure you it's been drip-feeding us power with each passing day."

He wasn't sure how to make it clear without having to say it. This wasn't about pride. It wasn't about destiny or conquest (though surely in the furthest reaches of his mind Vocado did wish to raze a few planets once his hair burned a golden hue), but it was about something more. A duty to his people and his family. To make things right by the Bonemoon who came before him, and the Bonemoon who will come after.

"I'm serious about this, Kal. I'll die if I have to. If it means you and Ise can figure out something resembling a proper plan that doesn't involve waiting around for years, that is. But before the three of us go down, Azoth has to meet his end. It's the only way to make things right by that girl's father... By that kid my cursed family abandoned."

"Does it have to benefit me?"

Vocado barely registered the muck in the street, eyes honed in on Kalabas like a cat watching its prey. Part of him wished his old friend wasn't cyborgified, but he imagined the organic form of his old friend probably wouldn't be any easier to convince. Hell, that iteration might've already ditched Plant halfway through the conversation.

He was being too harsh. Cynical thoughts swam back and forth to combat the opposition his war-brother brought with him.

Pushing the grasping hand away after a moment, Vocado wrangled his argument properly in his head, and explained. "Maybe you've forgotten what it feels like to have emotions under all those prewritten dialogues you've had scripted into your circuits, but at this point I don't think I have much left in the way of self-preservation. I've lost so many people, Kal. First my parents, now Pitt? Hell, I'm living on borrowed time already after that bout with Azoth."

No no. He'd just gone a little too far. Waving his hand, he clicked his tongue. "Sorry about the robot comments or whatever, but I just wanna get this guy! It's what I have to do. He's what's standing in our way. Be it ending the war, finding peace, or maybe settling down someday? I can't do any of that with his frozen face seared into my eyes." Vocado's head slumped for a second, and when it came back up there were welling tears. "I hate him, Kal. I hate him so bad it hurts."

He wasn't even sure why. It was hate by association; dogmatic fury brought on by honor and duty. He forced himself to be diametrically opposed to Azoth for no reason other than stubbornness, and for some reason? He was okay with that.

"Let me rephrase myself for you: I'll die if it comes to it, but I certainly don't plan on it. My goal is to become the first Super Saiyan in recorded history, and hopefully I'll get to rub that fact into every Arcosian's face before I scrub Azoth clean from the galaxy."

Blinking sharply, he dispelled the tears, and nodded.

"You in or what?"

Damn. There he went, using his mouth to get him into trouble yet again.

Kalabas turned to leave, but Vocado reached out, hoping to grab his cyborg buddy by the wrist. His face was regretful, yet still hold that signature sour look he was known for. "C'mon man. You don't gotta prove a damn thing to me. Hell, your reaction is proof enough." He chuckled, but subtly wondered to himself if that was a pre-programmed response to hide his truly artificial nature.

If he had a hold on Kalabas, he'd have already dropped it, arms slinking back in defeat. "You wanna keep our relationship strictly business? Fine by me. I could say a million and one things to you, and I'm sure you've got double that swimming around in those circuits. But let's just... Let's cut past it. We're not kids anymore."

Surprisingly self-aware. Was Vocado the one who was fake? Maybe he switched scripts to save face.

"I've lost too many friends. Too many stories turned into graves or dust on the wind. Don't make me lose you too. Not again."

For now, he waited. Surely this was just the waiting room for a rant. Kalabas was about to lay into him. A veritable essay waiting to spill from the cyborgified lips across the alley.

"I'm trying. Okay? I'm pissed and I'm hateful, but I'm trying." What was he trying for? To be a better person? Certainly not. To end the war? Not even close. Whatever it was, those vague words probably meant more than whatever explanation Vocado could possibly muster up.

This moment of clarity-- whatever it had been brought on by-- wouldn't last forever. Something was bound to give. He still had that anger bubbling within.

”Kal…”

Vocado listened for a while, his usually brand of taut remarks or angry comment notably absent. There was a palpable sadness in the air; bringing back those welling tears again. At least he knew now that Kalabas always cared.

When Kalabas finished, Vocado rushed for him, grabbing his synthetic self by the scruff and bringing him in close. There was sadness there, but a new determination. Fire and grit and all those other haughty manly things he could think to feel.

”You didn’t come out wrong you stupid bastard! If you did, you wouldn’t be acting this way!” His teeth bared themselves, and his breathing synchronized with Kal’s unintentionally. ”All the friends we’ve lost? The love and the laughter and all those stupid things we can remember about them? That’s why we’re alive. To honor their memories. To keep them and their legacy going. You think Pitt would be crying in front of his best friend if I was dead? Hell no! He’d probably be stronger than seven Super Saiyans to honor us! Because that’s what friends do— what family does!”

He looked Kalabas up and down, and something began to stir. With a grunt of annoyance, he pushed away, shaking his head in the process.

”So I guess that’s what we’ll do then. Live for them. And for Ise. What else can we do? If we sit here and wallow in the sadness we’re no better than the bastards who stole their last breaths from them.”

For a moment, he thought back on how strangely this conversation had gone. From legends and myths to crying on one another for their mistakes. No matter, he supposed. Weirder conversations have gone down in the slime-strewn streets of Sadala.