Center of the Hurricane

    Lottus had left the Earth behind, quite satisfied with how events had unfolded on the planet. He now had a solid grasp of what the planet could offer against him, though it was less than he'd thought. Fukushu had been strong, and he'd been turned away from the planet due to these types of warriors. But some of them were missing. Where was the pink haired Earthling leader that participated in the Imperial Open? Where were the other beings whose names and faces had been shown to Lottus by Fukushu in a plan to eventually strike the world?

    Dead? Possibly. Not that it ultimately mattered. Rucola was dead now too, and that was an annoying loss. It had been a cruel act - if one was not a Saiyan. So many societies led such pitifully meager lives, chained down by the morals of the weak. Rucola had been a Saiyan. To die on the battlefield was to die in honor. She had been the victim of a weakling's cowardly act - a paralysis poison. From that point on, Lottus would have had to waste energy on protecting Rucola from the enemy that seemed keen to collect her. And that would not stand.

    So, the sensible thing in the field of battle was to remove anything that could prove to be a distraction, or leverage. That had been Rucola. He had given her a noble warrior's death - what she deserved. No warrior could live with the shame of being used as leverage against their comrades, after all. And so now, here on some world of blue-skinned aliens, Lottus sat at a round table, drinking to Rucola's death.

    Tradition, little more. Having died before, Lottus already knew what would happen to Rucola - and there was no punishment in that. She could eventually figure her way out of Hell, like he had. Or, perhaps he would seek out Yatapi, and get that device that allowed the Tuffle to travel to Otherworld where he found Lottus. He could drag Rucola right back out of the clutches of death itself as easily as he had sent her into its embrace. Which, essentially, was the plan. He had learned from the Devils and Oni that to cross back over, the soul needed time to acclimate. A few months at the minimum. And so he would wait that short time, and go retrieve Rucola from Hell when the time was appropriate.

    Lottus leans back in his chair, and glances at the aliens going about their lives. It would be so easy to crack this planet wide open, and detonate its core, just like he'd done to four other worlds already. But, he wasn't really in the mood for it. So he settled for this meager appetizer that these people called a meal, and took another swig of their berry flavored ale.

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