Bonewood Meets Bitterbones (Vocado)

An interesting start to one's day, to be sure.

For one, running into an old war buddy from some decade or so ago was odd enough. But to have this Saiyan deliver a message and leave without saying a word? Odder indeed. The only question was how to approach the situation. Cato hadn't mentioned a friend in their talks outside the palace, and Lottus had been missing since he awoke. A trap was likely, but if this mysterious benefactor worked alongside Amara, she wouldn't be so wild as to go through such a unique channel to reach him.

So, on a whim, he decided to go. Thinking, of course, this was a bad idea, he opted to evade the front entrance, and instead slip in through the back. One of the back windows was carved clean from its frame. The circular shard burned free by a particular adept use of Ki, Vocado caught it in his palm and flung the disc into the mid-afternoon sky, before slipping into the storeroom.

From what he could sense, and from what his scouter told him, there was only one power of note inside the bar. Bought out, as explained. There was always the chance of hidden assailants in the rafters. Fighters who had expertise in hiding themselves weren't uncommon among the stars, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from the back room, training an arm blaster on Fukushu as he entered.

"Best make it brief. We both don't got all day."

As a precaution, he had a finger at the ready on his Scouter. If it really came down to trouble, he could call for a task force from the Palace to come to his aid. It'd reveal his location and Fukushu's to Amara instantly, but he doubted it'd come to that. After all, Vocado seemed close enough in strength to this foe that he'd be able to handle it alone... If this was his maximum output, that is.

"Tuffles aren't my concern by any stretch. Why mention them in the letter? We've got bigger fish to fry and those shrimps aren't exactly in my sights."

Perhaps that was playing too much of his hand already, but oh well.

---

Smooth talker.

Vocado lowered his blaster, slowly, as he took in the information. Face of stone, he drank in the stunning information of Arcose and Earth allying with an unwavering lack of emotion. Internally, of course, he panicked a little. Ise and him didn't talk much before he lost consciousness, but to know she'd moved in that far of an opposite direction worried him. Earth was one of the few things Vocado deemed necessary to wage war upon. Would doing so sever his connection to his family?

Damn. Questions for later.

"Big talk. Earth's a fortress, in case you haven't heard. New task forces being concocted every other week, and the President himself is no joke. I'd know." Vocado slid the blaster back, revealing a burn scar on his wrist. "Lots of problems reside here on Plant. Queen could be a problem, but she hasn't decided if she wants to be yet, from what I can tell anyways."

The Saiyan circled the room, eyeing the Heran like a starving predator, checking the lock on the front door and snapping it tightly into position if it hadn't been done already. Just to make sure nobody could intrude.

"You want an alliance with us; why not go through official channels? Unless of course, you tried already. Didn't like what you got back from Queenie?" His eyes glanced upward. Nobody clung to the ceiling, as far as he could tell.

---

"I hear a lot of wind coming from those big sails you call lips. You can say Derry was potentially at your mercy all you like, but his head ain't mounted on the castle walls, and those phantom friends of his could've been just about anyone, so I guess we'll have to agree to disagree on the... Voracity of that claim."

Vocado was being harsh. Perhaps more than he needed to be, but could you blame him? The offer on the table was tough to swallow. It was clear from the way the Heran held himself that his goals were lofty. Throttling the Tuffles was little more than a stepping stone in his mind.

But big men fell hard. It was never a matter of if, but only a matter of when. Would the Heran's hubris catch up to him deep into his old age, or in the heat of battle barely a week from now? There was no way to tell.

Sighing, Vocado relented. His hand finally lowered away from his Scouter, and the hiss of his arm blaster cooling down echoed across the musty woodwork.

"My concerns are my own. If I can't handle it, I can't imagine you'd be any better at it."

Besides, it wouldn't be wise to tell a potential warlord that Vocado was worried about the stability of the region. Surely he'd see it as further reason to move forward with this plan.

"So I take it this isn't a consultation about whether or not you should be doing something about the Tuffles, then? More of a recruitment drive?"

Somewhere, in the deepest parts of Vocado's psyche, he had hoped Fukushu was bluffing. Like so many braggards and blowhards before him, there was a chance that this was all talk. That Cato and Lottus had been taken for fools and this was some snake-oil scheme. It would make his job easier, he assured himself. He'd go back to skulking. Waiting and watching until Amara finally made a move.

But then the plans slid across the table. Laid out before him was a rather intricate detail of conquest. Striking key points in the city, toppling their infrastructure before they could get their forces properly aligned.

His eyes scanned the map, darting to and fro in microsecond intervals.

"I see..."

One might call this a moral quandary. To go along with this plan was surely despicable. Shattering peace, however fragile, was sure to plunge Plant into conflict as great as the thickest portions of the old war. It was what Saiyans craved, right? To battle enemies worthy of their strength and come out on top?

So why, then, did Vocado feel a pit burrow its way through his stomach?

He nodded, a furrowed brow the only proper reaction he gave.

"..."

Surely, he could ruin things right about now. Call Cheri. Tell them this plan. Bolster Tuffle forces and ensure peace across the planet. Taori would want that, right? To keep the peace?

"I'll consider it."

Vocado stood up, and slid away from the bar, eyes trained on Fukushu as he backpedaled toward the storeroom he'd entered from. If he wasn't stopped, the Saiyan would exit in slippery fashion, slinking away into the night to think things over.

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