Chapter 3
{Flashback Scene - Bardock's Memories}
The angel smiled and ducked under a well-timed kick that split right through the air his head had just been in, before turning to the side as a follow up axe kicked sliced down. Whis hovered backwards as he used his staff to launch a blast attack at Bardock. The Saiyan righted himself and thrust a flat palm through the ball of energy in a piercing motion, splitting the attack in half and making it explode, kicking up smoke.
Not letting up, Bardock dove right through the smoke cloud and unleashed a relentless assault on the angel attendant. Each attack precise and measured, well thought through even if none found its mark. Bardock attempted a feint, which Whis reacted to before he tried to sneak the angel with a small energy blast aimed at his mid-section.
Only for Whis to use the butt of his staff and stab right down on a nerve bundle in his upper arm, forcing him to unclench the hand holding the attack and dropping the sphere of energy. Whis then twirled his staff and swung the head at Bardock's skull, prompting the Saiyan to block it with his free arm.
Grabbing the staff, he pulled on it to bring the angel into another sharp jab. But in a display of his usual fluid acrobatics, Whis seemed to float over the attack before it was even thrown. Bardock was left with the staff in his hand as he felt a wave of pressure hit him in the back, strong enough to knock him right out of the air and send him smashing into the ground with enough force to create a crater.
Bardock lay amidst the rubble, waiting for the dust cloud to clear and quelling the bubbling frustration that threatened to burst out of his chest. Whis was taking extra care to be annoying today. Slowly and with a few measured breaths, he withdrew the green aura that had formed around his body and absorbed it back into his body.
"You've improved Bardock." Whis said as he floated down to greet his student.
"And you're the same as ever." Bardock snorted as he stood up and threw his staff back at him. "One day I'm gonna figure out how to stop you and your slippery evasion tactics and land a nice punch in your irritating, very punch-able face."
"Goku will have developed proper social awareness before then." Whis laughed. "But my praise is genuine. Your instincts are honed, your attacks sharp and precise. Little to no wasted movement, improved reaction time. And you've managed to reign in your ferocious anger and prevent that dreaded side of you from escaping. Perhaps it's because of the extra-curricular activities you've been engaging in with my sister…they've certainly out you in a better general mood."
"What can I say? She makes me happier than I've been in a while." Bardock said as he downed a bottle of water.
"Not even going to deny it?"
"There wouldn't be a point to it. Though I'm surprised you're not making anymore of a fuss about it."
"You Saiyans are too well used to doing as you please. If there are to be repercussions, for once I'd like it to fall on your head and not have to bail you out myself. Besides, she's always been a free spirit with a rebellious streak even if she firmly believes in her duty. Something like this is not out of character for her." Whis then became more serious. "Back to you however, while your instincts are sharp, you are in no way using them the proper way. Every move you commit to is rendered impure by a clutter of thoughts. You are strong but you're still not able to use the full strength your body is capable of. In some ways you're worse than Vegeta in that regard."
"And look how he's doing for himself. All the power of a Destroyer but not set to take up the mantle itself. And just because I'm related to Kakarot, doesn't mean I share in his affinity for Ultra Instinct. And there's a very good reason why I don't let myself go to my instincts Whis."
"And why is that?"
"Tch, do I really have to spell it out?" Bardock crossed his arms. "I'm a Legendary Super Saiyan, a mutant. To surrender control to my instincts more than likely means giving into my ever-present thirst for mayhem and chaos. I close my eyes and when I open them again, entire worlds are on fire."
"Perhaps. But it still sounds like an excuse."
"You know, you sound just like her." Bardock grunted and turned away. "She's always saying that too."
"It should therefore tell you something. Your need for total control over yourself and your surroundings hampers your speed and the purity of your attacks. You progress is nothing short of astounding in these short couple of years. Broly's only just fully mastered his Super Saiyan form. You figured that part out all on your own before we met."
"After collapsing a part of hell in on itself and tearing a rift into the Demon Realm. It's the thing that prompted you to come down there and find me in the first place."
"Nevertheless, you achieved something many would consider impossible. A trait that runs in your family. But you are so afraid of letting go that you may one day implode on yourself and fall short of what would be expected of you to survive. Such squandered opportunities will be costly."
"I prefer to take the path Vegeta has taken. This inexplicable rage that comes with my power will always be a part of me. It is also the source of my pride. Total mastery of it will count as complete mastery of self in my books. And besides, Ultra Instinct suits my uncle perfectly. He barely has any thought rattling around in that empty head of his anyway, so what difference is a state in which he has no thought at all?"
"Making light of the situation gives no weight to your point. But very well, if that is the path you have chosen, then so be it. I'll just have to pass this assignment onto my sister so she can pester you for the next few million years you'll spend together when you finally ascend."
"…you always get your way don't you Whis?" Bardock chugged the last of his water before throwing the bottle aside and settling into a stance. "Enough chitchat. I'm ready to go another round."
"Please, no littering on my Lord's planet. You know how he feels about presentability now that even Grand Zeno himself makes a habit of showing up here unannounced from time to time. I can understand your uncle given I was there to witness the particular incident in which Grand Zeno took a liking to him, but how did you too gain the Omni-King's favour?"
"Something for me to know and for you to agonize over. Now fight me!"
-+-
-Richard 'Dick' Grayson (Robin)-
The briefing room had become quieter over the years, though Robin suspected that had less to do with the improvements made to Mount Justice and more to do with the fact that everyone had finally learned what happened when they treated Batman's briefings as opportunities for casual conversation.
The room itself had been designed for efficiency rather than comfort. A long table occupied the centre, surrounded by chairs that had apparently been selected by somebody who had never expected anyone to sit in them for more than twenty minutes. A wall-sized display dominated the far end of the chamber, currently showing nothing but the League insignia against a black background. The lights had been lowered to compensate for the display, leaving the rest of the room in subdued shadow.
Whenever his old mentor decided to convene the Team, it was usually because of three things. They had done something wrong, they had to do something for the League that was too small for the big guns to act on, or he had something to tell them that would mean a long night for everyone involved. Robin sat with one boot hooked around the base of his chair, rocking it back just far enough to make the front legs hover a few centimetres above the floor. He knew Batman had noticed but Batman had not said anything yet.
That usually meant he was deciding whether it was worth saying anything. And that only happened when something was weighing down on his adoptive father's mind more than his disapproval for Robin's occasional careless and unserious demeanour during a very serious setting. Though it didn't go nearly as far as childish Wally could be.
The others had gathered with varying degrees of reluctance. Aqualad sat opposite him with his hands loosely folded on the table, posture straight despite having spent most of the previous evening dealing with an Atlantean diplomatic dispute. Artemis had her arms crossed and looked as though she would rather be anywhere else.
Superboy stood behind one of the chairs instead of sitting in it with his usual frown plastered on his forehead. The thing was practically carved into the clone's face. Miss Martian was beside him, her expression pleasant and friendly as always but distracted and he could see she was little nervous about the tension in the room.
Kid Flash had arrived carrying something from the kitchen (of course) and had been forced to leave it outside. Robin had watched him hide it beneath his jacket but graciously decided not to mention it or the fact that Wally was supposed to be in his suit when gathered for briefings like this. Apparently, there were some battles Batman couldn't win.
Zatanna sat at the furthest end of the table, still not having completely recovered from their last major mission. Dick assumed she'd still hadn't come to terms over the situation regarding her father becoming Doctor Fate in her place, no matter how casual she seemed on the outside.
Batman entered without ceremony but did not sit. That was the first indication that this wasn't routine, causing Robin to straighten slightly.
"This assignment is classified." The Dark Knight started off.
"More classified than the stuff we usually don't talk about?" Wally joked in what seemed a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. A tightening of Batman's eyes seemed to shut him up again.
"You're being sent to Japan."
"That sounds like a reconnaissance mission." Robin said as his own eyes narrowed behind his mask.
"Because it is." Batman activated the display.
A map of East Asia appeared. Japan filled most of the screen, with several markers scattered across Tokyo, Osaka, Yokohama and a number of smaller coastal cities. A handful of additional points appeared across the East China Sea, concentrated around major Chinese ports. Robin leaned forward, recognising several of the key locations immediately. They weren't random.
"Organised crime?"
"Primarily." Batman answered before pressing a button on his tablet.
The image changed. A warehouse appeared, photographed after what looked like a particularly violent storm had passed through it. The loading doors had been torn from their tracks. Several shipping containers had been opened, though none appeared to have been breached with conventional tools. Police officers stood around the perimeter while forensic technicians worked inside.
Batman continued. "For approximately a month, Japanese and Chinese authorities have been dealing with an unidentified individual interfering with organised criminal operations. The targets include several Yakuza groups in Japan and Triad organisations operating through ports in both countries."
Artemis uncrossed her arms. "What kind of interference?"
"Depends on the operation." Another photograph replaced the warehouse. Several crates of narcotics had been stacked neatly inside a police evidence room. "Drug shipments have been intercepted before distribution. Weapons and other illegal imports have been recovered and anonymously reported to authorities. Several trafficking operations have been disrupted."
Robin studied the dates. The incidents weren't concentrated around one city. Whoever was doing this was moving. Fast. Or they had access to transportation nobody had identified.
"Anonymous tip-offs?" he asked.
"Usually. In some cases, the contraband was delivered directly to police stations."
Kid Flash's voice came from beside him. "That's almost considerate. A good Samaritan?" Batman just looked at him again. Wally cleared his throat. "Sorry."
Robin kept looking at the screen. There was something strange about the pattern. The unknown vigilante wasn't simply attacking criminals. They were interfering with the infrastructure supporting them. Seizing shipments, destroying warehouses, disrupting distribution. Occasionally handing suspects over to police. That suggested planning and premeditated action, not indiscriminate violence. Then Batman brought up the next photograph and Robin's attention sharpened. A body lay beside a wrecked sedan. The photograph had clearly been taken after police had arrived. The victim's clothes were still recognisably those of one of the criminal organisations involved, but his body had suffered catastrophic blunt-force trauma.
Another image then appeared, followed by more. A man embedded in the side of a concrete wall. A man that had been thrown through the side of a parked truck, the metal around the impact point was heavily distorted. Two men unconscious in a shipping yard, one with a broken arm and the other with injuries to the ribs. A dead man in an alley, the missing fingers and tattoos suggesting high level Yakuza member. Batman allowed the images to remain on the screen for several seconds before speaking.
"The individual has killed several criminals already, all of whom have a history of remorseless violence and murder."
"So, we've got a vigilante." Aqualad's mouth tightened. "Some one who's attacking criminal operations, handing most over to the authorities but killing the ones who have a body count. Like some angel of vengeance."
"That is a possible motive."
The room was silent. "How many?" Kaldur asked.
"Twelve confirmed. There are another seven deaths currently under investigation that may be connected."
Robin looked at the photographs again. There was no consistency in the method beyond the obvious fact that whoever had inflicted the injuries possessed extraordinary physical strength. Some victims had been struck. Some had been thrown. One appeared to have been killed by being driven through the side of a vehicle. There were no obvious weapons. No firearms, no explosives, no conventional forensic signature.
"Any civilians?" Miss Martian asked. "How about police?"
"None. No fatalities amongst 'innocents'."
Robin frowned. "Then why are some criminals killed and others left alive? I'd imagine that much more than just those men have committed murder."
"We don't know. And that's what you're investigating." Batman said. "Among other things."
Robin sat back. He had expected a briefing about an unknown metahuman. Instead, Batman was giving them the profile of somebody who seemed to have developed their own private criminal justice system.
It was troubling. Not simply because people were dying. Because whoever was doing this seemed to possess a remarkably specific sense of proportion. Some criminals were beaten unconscious and handed over. Others were killed. The difference mattered. The killings were wrong, extrajudicial and unlawful but authorities over in the East would be more prone to looking the other way from that sort of thing, especially if the victim was guilty of certain repugnant things and if the suspect was a particularly strong vigilante.
Ideally, they would care more, but the Justice League and its affiliates as a whole didn't have as much push there as they did in the West. They weren't always welcome either, many viewing them as just another group of 'American attack dogs'. This was the kind of situation where the Team would be called in. They were less known, and they wouldn't turn many heads.
Robin looked towards Batman. "Are the victims connected?"
"All of them belong to organised criminal groups, but there isn't a single common organisation or leadership structure. The victims include smugglers, enforcers, traffickers and several individuals wanted for violent crimes."
"So there's a selection process. Personal vendetta? Maybe something cultural?"
"Possible."
"Metahuman intervention?"
"Possible."
Robin smiled faintly beneath his mask. Bruce was acting strange. He didn't usually give repetitive one-word answers like this and he'd been on edge ever since that mysterious crash outside Metropolis a month back.
"You're giving us a lot of possibilities."
"Because we don't have enough information to eliminate them."
That was classic Batman. Never pretend uncertainty didn't exist simply because everyone would prefer a clean answer. Bruce let the photograph remain on the screen for several seconds before finally speaking.
"The individual we believe is responsible for these incidents is the same individual we encountered one month ago. The alien we retrieved from the Metropolis crash site."
Robin's attention sharpened here. While that incident did have some proven facts floating around it, the specifics had been kept in a closed circle amongst the Justice League. This was the first time Batman was talking about it himself with Robin, let alone the rest of the Team.
Bruce changed the image. The grainy security footage disappeared, replaced by a photograph from the Watchtower's medical bay. A young man lay unconscious inside one of the League's advanced trauma pods, his body covered in bruising and dried blood. Even through the clinical distortion of the image, several details were unmistakable: the long black hair, the unfamiliar clothing that had been catalogued amongst his belongings on arrival in the watchtower, and the tail curled loosely against his side.
"His name is Bardock." Now Bruce was finally opening the door onto the matter that seemed to have the League on high alert, even before the Team was formed. "Bardock was the individual who emerged from the dimensional rupture above Metropolis," he continued. "He wasn't responsible for the initial investigation because, at the time, we didn't know whether he had anything to do with the rupture at all. He was found unconscious after passing through it."
Robin studied the photograph. "He survived the transit?"
"Yes." Bruce advanced to the next image. This one showed the medical scans taken after Bardock had been brought aboard the Watchtower. "These were taken immediately after his recovery. He had extensive internal trauma, severe muscular damage, and what our scans initially interpreted as catastrophic neurological stress. His body was also exhibiting an energy circulation system we couldn't identify."
"What kind of energy system?" M'Gann asked.
"We don't know." That answer came without hesitation. "But the agreed consensus is that it's mystical in nature, though it does seem to also have bioelectric properties." Bruce enlarged one of the scans. A network of luminous points and pathways appeared throughout the silhouette of Bardock's body. They didn't resemble blood vessels, nerves, or anything else the Team recognised as part of human anatomy. The brightest node of all appeared to be in his core, the middlemost point of his whole body. "His biology produces and circulates energy through pathways that have no equivalent in any known species. We couldn't determine whether the system was biological, metaphysical, or some combination of the two. We could only establish that it was fundamental to his physiology."
Robin looked from the scan to Bruce. "And the rupture?"
"His energy signature was present in it." That changed the atmosphere in the room. Not concrete proof but a connection, nonetheless. Bruce continued before anyone could jump to the obvious conclusion. "That does not mean Bardock caused the rupture. We haven't established that. What we know is that he passed through it, that his body carried the same anomalous energy signature, and that whatever happened to him during transit left him severely injured."
"So, he could be a survivor," Zatanna said.
"Yes."
"Or the cause." Robin leaned back slightly. Bruce wasn't giving them enough information to form a comfortable conclusion, which meant there probably wasn't one. "What happened after you found him?" he asked.
Bruce's expression changed almost imperceptibly. "He woke up."
The screen changed again. This time the image was security footage from the Watchtower. Robin recognised the med bay immediately. Bardock stood barefoot on the floor, apparently confused by his surroundings. The young man looked smaller than Robin remembered from the photograph, though that was probably because there was nothing in the frame to provide scale.
He was looking around perplexed and undeniably on guard. From a visual appraisal, Robin could see the makings of a martial artist. Even disoriented, Bardock was on guard and in a stance that could easily let him transition into an attack should he feel the need. That was even without taking into account his body, lean and muscular and covered in scars.
Superman approached him and Robin watched Bardock turn his head. He couldn't hear the audio, but he could see the exchange in their body language. Superman was speaking calmly, Bardock was answering. Neither appeared hostile until Bardock made for the door and Green Lantern tried to stop him. Then Clark reached for him and that's when Bardock moved. There was no dramatic transformation, no energy flare, no warning. He caught Superman's wrist, rotated his body, and redirected Clark's momentum with such effortless precision that Robin initially wondered whether the recording had skipped.
Then the punch came and Superman vanished through the first wall. A fraction of a second later, he vanished through the second. Conner stared at the screen baffled as the alien stranger made short work of his 'father' in one move. The footage stopped at that point and for a few moments, nobody spoke. Robin had seen Superman get hit before. Everyone had. But there was something distinctly unsettling about watching someone who appeared to be barely older than the Team casually put Clark through reinforced Watchtower architecture. Bruce turned off the screen.
"That was Bardock while severely injured."
Conner's expression hardened. "You said his body was damaged."
"It was, significantly."
"So how strong is he now, with a month to heal?" Dick asked his old mentor.
Bruce looked at him. "We don't know. It's impossible to guess since we haven't been able to find out anything about his species. As far as any database in our reach is concerned, an entirely new creature has just dropped into our universe."
Conner's eyes narrowed. Bruce didn't elaborate further but Robin knew that look. Bruce clearly knew a little more but had already decided exactly how much information they were getting, and he was choosing his words carefully because the distinction mattered.
"Bardock's physical capabilities are significantly beyond anything we've been able to establish through conventional testing," Bruce said. "The medical apparatus couldn't obtain meaningful baseline measurements without risking further injury. His energy output was fluctuating constantly at low levels, and his physiology appeared to be compensating for damage faster than our systems could properly document." He paused. "The only reliable demonstration we have is the encounter with Superman."
"And that's enough?" Artemis asked.
"It's enough to establish that engaging him without knowing his limits would be irresponsible."
Robin considered that. Bruce wasn't saying Bardock was invincible. He wasn't saying Bardock could defeat Superman. He was saying something more useful: they had almost no reliable information about the ceiling of his abilities, and the one confirmed demonstration they possessed had occurred when Bardock was already badly injured. That was a very different problem from dealing with an ordinary metahuman.
"There's something else." Bruce said. The room went quiet again. "Bardock didn't attack Superman because he was trying to fight him."
Robin frowned. "He was escaping."
"Correct." Bruce brought up the final piece of footage. Bardock's expression before the confrontation was almost impossible to read. He looked disoriented. Alert, and wary. Yet there was no bloodlust, no obvious desire to hurt anyone. When Superman moved to restrain him, Bardock reacted instantly and violently, but the violence lasted only as long as necessary to create distance. "He wasn't attempting to continue the fight," Bruce said. "Once he was clear, he fled the Watchtower."
Robin stared at the frozen image. "So, he wasn't looking for a fight. Then why didn't you tell us any of this?"
"Because until recently, we had no reason to believe he was still on Earth." Bruce's gaze moved across the room. That made Robin sit forward even more than he already was. Bruce brought the map back onto the screen, but this time he wasn't interested in the criminal incidents themselves. He highlighted a series of locations across Japan and eastern China. "After leaving the Watchtower, Bardock disappeared completely. We couldn't locate him through satellite surveillance, magical tracking, telepathy, or conventional intelligence networks. We didn't even know whether he had remained on Earth."
"And now we do," Robin said.
"Yes." Bruce looked at the Team. "He has been living here for approximately a month."
There was a subtle shift in the room. Not because the statement itself was surprising, but because it changed the nature of the investigation. They weren't looking for an abstract dimensional anomaly anymore. They were looking for a person. A young man who had arrived in their world injured, escaped the League because he believed they were trying to restrain him, and had subsequently spent weeks moving through Japan and China.
"Why didn't he leave?" Kaldur asked. "Why Japan? Why is he interfering with organised crime?"
"We don't know. From some of our initial dialogue, he appears to come from some sort of enforcement background. The exact nature of such work is still yet to be determined but there's a chance that due to it, Bardock is carrying out his own brand of justice believing he is doing good by the people. But again, that is still an assumption."
Bruce's answers were becoming less repetitive but increasingly questionable, but Robin understood why. There was a difference between withholding information and genuinely not having it.
"And that's what you want us to find out," Robin said.
"Yes." Bruce nodded. He closed the medical file and replaced it with a photograph taken from a distance. Bardock, seemingly, was walking through a city street, apparently unconcerned by the people around him. "We believe this is Bardock. The physical dimensions match the individual recovered from the Watchtower. The same unusual energy signature has been detected at several of the locations associated with these incidents. There are also witnesses who have described a young man with a tail and a sword."
Robin looked at the photograph again. "You're certain."
"Certain enough." He waited. "Your assignment is to locate him, observe him, and determine what he's doing here." Robin caught the distinction immediately. Neither confront nor apprehend him. Locate, observe and determine only. Bruce's voice became more serious. "You are not to engage Bardock unless there is an immediate threat to civilian life and you have no alternative."
Conner frowned. "Even if we find him committing a crime?"
"Especially then. Once you've confirmed visual, you withdraw and notify us immediately and we'll take it from there. " The answer made Conner visibly bristle.
Robin could understand why they were being given this task. Bardock didn't seem to be particularly dangerous like other villainous elements of the super/meta population, not in a malicious way. The League were very high profile and them entering Asia wouldn't go unnoticed. The Team could literally fly in under the radar in the Bio-ship and not rouse too many people. They could get the information needed and leave with little to no fuss.
Bruce continued before the argument brewing inside some of them could develop.
"You don't know his intentions. You don't know the full extent of his abilities. You don't know what he considers a proportionate response to a threat. More importantly, we don't know how much of his current behaviour is deliberate and how much is a consequence of whatever happened to him when he crossed the dimensional rupture."
Robin glanced at the photograph again. "So, we're treating him as a potential threat."
"We're treating him as an unknown." There was a difference. Bruce turned back towards the screen. "Bardock is not being classified as a hostile metahuman. He's not being classified as an invading alien. He's not being classified as a criminal. We don't have sufficient evidence for any of those conclusions." He looked directly at Robin. "But we do know that he is extraordinarily powerful, that he has already demonstrated the ability to seriously injure Superman, and that he possesses capabilities we don't understand."
The room had gone very still.
"If you encounter him," Bruce said, "you do not test him." Robin's mouth tightened slightly. Bruce knew exactly what he was thinking. He knew exactly what Conner was thinking, too. "Do not provoke him. Do not attempt to determine how strong he is. Do not challenge him because you think you can force him to reveal more of his abilities. If he notices you, withdraw and report."
Conner looked dissatisfied, but he didn't argue. Robin understood why. There was something fundamentally different about being told not to fight an enemy because Batman didn't trust your abilities, and being told not to fight because Batman genuinely didn't know what would happen if you did. Bruce gathered the photographs together on the screen.
"Until we know more, Bardock is a person of interest. Nothing more."
Robin looked once more at the young man standing in the middle of that distant photograph. A month ago, he'd fallen through a wound in reality. He'd woken in a place he didn't recognise, surrounded by people he had every reason to distrust. He'd fought Superman long enough to escape. Then, he'd disappeared. And now, apparently, he was somewhere in Asia, quietly carving a path through the criminal underworld while trying to remain unseen. Robin had the distinct feeling that whatever Bardock's story was, the League had only just reached the first page.
"This briefing is over." Bruce turned all the screens off as the door opened for them. "Collect your things and dress proper for the occasion." He looked pointedly at Wally who was acting like he hadn't just been caught trying to eat under his jacket. "You leave in ten minutes."
-+-
The Bio-Ship had been in the air for nearly four hours, and Robin had begun to suspect that Japan was deliberately making itself difficult to search. The landscape below kept changing without ever becoming meaningfully different: dense urban districts gave way to industrial outskirts, industrial outskirts to forests, forests to cultivated valleys, and then back into towns whose narrow streets and tiled roofs looked almost indistinguishable from the last ones they had passed.
Every few minutes, Miss Martian would adjust their course in response to another report from Batman, and every few minutes the same uncomfortable conclusion emerged. They were chasing fragments. A witness had seen a young man with a sword. A shopkeeper remembered someone with a tail buying enough food to feed a football team. A warehouse owner had discovered that his criminal clientele had vanished overnight.
A policeman had heard rumours about an extraordinarily strong foreigner, only to discover that the witness had never actually seen him. They had visited three crime scenes, spoken to two dozen people, examined one abandoned smuggling route and spent almost an hour following what turned out to be a sighting of an entirely unrelated martial artist. Bardock seemed to exist everywhere in the country except wherever they happened to be looking.
Robin sat in the forward section of the Bio-Ship beside M'Gann, one knee drawn up beneath him as he studied the tablet in his hands. The data scrolled past in neat columns, but none of it seemed inclined to produce the one thing they needed. He had begun the mission expecting Batman's briefing to leave them with too many questions. He hadn't anticipated that Bardock himself would appear to be actively conspiring against their investigation simply by going about his life.
Beside him, M'Gann was piloting with both hands lightly resting against the controls, her attention divided between the countryside ahead and the scattered thoughts she could pick up from the Team behind them. She had wisely stopped trying to read Robin's mind after discovering that his internal monologue became considerably more irritating when she could hear it. At present, however, even she seemed distracted. The Bio-Ship dipped gently beneath a bank of cloud, revealing a broad valley of green fields below, and Robin caught the first distant glimpse of the mountains beyond it.
"Another dead end," Robin said, lowering the tablet against his thigh. "We have enough contradictory descriptions now to construct three different Bardocks, and apparently all three of them spend their evenings buying groceries, dismantling organised crime and occasionally appearing in places that should be geographically impossible. I'm beginning to think Batman deliberately sent us here because he enjoys watching us suffer."
M'Gann gave him a sidelong glance, her mouth curving despite herself. "You know he doesn't do that."
Robin looked at her. "He absolutely does that."
She laughed quietly, and the sound carried into the rear compartment where Wally immediately took it as an invitation to participate. The Bio-Ship was spacious enough that the Team could move about without being cramped, but everyone had gradually settled into familiar positions during the long flight.
Robin and M'Gann occupied the forward seats because M'Gann was piloting and Robin had insisted on having the navigation and intelligence feeds directly in front of him. Conner sat behind them with his arms folded, staring through the transparent hull at the passing countryside. Wally had sprawled across one of the rear benches with the particular lack of dignity that seemed to accompany any period in which he wasn't actively running. Kaldur sat beside him with his usual composure, while Artemis occupied the opposite bench and Zatanna sat near the rear controls, occasionally glancing towards the instruments as though expecting the ship to develop an opinion about their investigation.
"I still think we're missing something," M'Gann said. "Everyone describes him differently, but there are certain things they agree on. He's young. He's very strong. He has a tail. He carries a sword. He doesn't seem interested in money. And whenever someone describes what he did, it sounds like he was trying to accomplish something specific rather than simply causing trouble."
Robin considered that. "Which would be reassuring if he weren't apparently killing people."
The amusement left M'Gann's face. "I know."
Behind them, Conner finally spoke. "Maybe he's not as complicated as everyone keeps making him."
Robin turned slightly in his seat. Conner hadn't looked around. He was still watching the ground below, jaw set, expression hard in the way it tended to become whenever Superman entered his thoughts. Robin knew enough about Conner's history to understand why Bardock's encounter with Clark had bothered him. It wasn't merely that Bardock had hurt Superman. Conner's feelings towards Superman were tangled, unfinished and often contradictory, but there was still a profound instinctive attachment there, something he didn't know how to articulate and didn't particularly want anyone else examining.
"What do you mean?" Robin asked.
Conner shrugged. "We've got an alien who comes out of nowhere, attacks Superman when Superman tries to contain him, disappears, and then starts beating people to death. I don't care how many farmers he helps. That doesn't make him trustworthy."
Wally raised his head from the bench. "To be fair, we don't actually know that he attacked Superman first."
Conner finally looked back. "He punched him through two walls."
"Yes, but Batman said Superman approached him first."
"Because he was trying to stop him from running around the Watchtower."
"Which Bardock probably didn't know was a friendly gesture."
Artemis gave Wally a dry look. "Most people don't interpret being grabbed by Superman as a friendly gesture."
Wally gestured towards her as though she'd just proved his point. "Exactly. Context matters."
Conner's expression remained unimpressed. "You guys are already making excuses for him."
"No one's making excuses," Kaldur said from beside him. His voice remained calm, but there was enough firmness beneath it to settle the conversation before it became another argument. "There is a distinction between understanding why someone acted and approving of what they did. We should not abandon that distinction simply because we dislike the uncertainty surrounding this individual."
Conner looked at him for a moment before turning back towards the window. "Fine. I still don't like him."
Robin watched him carefully. He couldn't entirely disagree with Conner's conclusion, even if he disliked the certainty with which he'd reached it. Bardock's killings bothered him. The Team had been trained to protect people, to restrain dangerous individuals and bring them into custody whenever possible. The League could debate the morality and practicality of lethal force all it wanted, but Robin had grown up understanding that once you started deciding which criminals deserved to die, the line between justice and personal judgement became frighteningly easy to cross.
Whatever Bardock's reasons were, he had apparently appointed himself judge and executioner. That didn't sit well with him.
"We can acknowledge that he's helping people and still decide that killing criminals is unacceptable." Robin said. "Those things aren't mutually exclusive. If anything, that's exactly why this is concerning. He's not some mindless monster. He's intelligent enough to choose what he's doing."
Artemis nodded slowly. "That's the part that bothers me too."
Wally sat upright. "Okay, but there's another question we haven't really answered."
Robin glanced back. "How strong is he?" He offered, apparently guessing right.
Wally's expression was almost sheepish, but there was genuine curiosity beneath it. "I mean, seriously. Batman tells us not to engage him because he put Superman through two walls while injured, which is probably the most Batman way imaginable of saying, 'Please don't discover what happens if you annoy this guy.' So, what are we actually talking about here?"
Conner gave a humourless laugh. "Strong enough to hurt Superman."
"That's not a measurement."
"It's a pretty good one."
"Not really. Superman's strength isn't a fixed number, and neither is Bardock's. Batman said the guy has some kind of energy system we don't understand. For all we know, he could have one ridiculous ability that makes him dangerous in exactly the wrong circumstances and be completely manageable otherwise."
Zatanna, who had been silent for several minutes, finally spoke from the rear. "That is possible, although the reports suggest something rather less convenient. The magical community has encountered enough unusual beings that I would normally expect some metaphysical signature to present itself if Bardock's power were fundamentally magical. It doesn't. Whatever he is doing, it seems to belong to an entirely different framework."
Robin looked over his shoulder. "And that makes you nervous?"
"It makes me cautious," Zatanna corrected. "Magic is not a catalogue of everything that cannot be explained scientifically. It has its own rules, traditions and limitations. If Bardock's abilities originate outside our reality entirely, then attempting to categorise them according to ours could be dangerously misleading."
Wally looked between her and Robin. "So, we have no idea how strong he is."
"Essentially," Zatara said.
Wally nodded thoughtfully. "Great."
Artemis rolled her eyes. "You sound disappointed."
"I'm curious."
"You're curious about everything."
"Yes. It's one of my better qualities."
"It's one of your more exhausting qualities."
Kaldur's mouth twitched faintly. The conversation might have continued in that vein if M'Gann hadn't suddenly slowed the Bio-Ship. The landscape ahead had changed. The road they had been following narrowed until it became little more than a ribbon between wooded slopes. Beyond it, nestled in a broad green valley, lay a small Japanese village. From the air it looked almost untouched by the modern world.
Rice paddies reflected the pale afternoon light in geometric patches, separated by narrow embankments and irrigation channels. Clusters of old wooden houses sat beneath tiled roofs, and beyond them stood several weathered shrines surrounded by trees. Cherry blossoms drifted through the air in loose pink clouds, catching the sunlight as they fell.
Robin leaned forward. "This place is beautiful. That wasn't on the original route."
"No," M'Gann said. "We received an update from Batman three minutes ago." She brought the report onto the main display. "This is our next location."
Robin read quickly. A rural community. Longstanding harassment from Triad and Yakuza operations. Illegal storage, weapons movement, intimidation of residents, bribery of local officials. Then, approximately one month ago, everything had stopped.
He looked up. "That's our guy."
"Maybe." M'Gann said.
Robin looked back at the village. For the first time all day, something about their investigation felt different.
The Bio-Ship descended gradually, settling into a broad meadow beyond the village rather than landing among the houses. They stepped out one by one, and the reaction was immediate. Even before Robin had straightened his cape, he could feel eyes on them. Curtains shifted. A door closed somewhere nearby. An elderly woman carrying a basket stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the group with open suspicion.
They were not exactly inconspicuous.
Conner was enormous. Artemis wore a costume that belonged in a comic book rather than a rural Japanese village. Kaldur's Atlantean armour attracted attention wherever they went. Zatanna looked like a high school stage magician who had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Wally's suit was bright enough to be visible from orbit, and Robin had long since accepted that subtlety was difficult when travelling with people who looked like they had been assembled specifically to make subtlety impossible.
M'Gann, at least, could pass for human. An American human. That wasn't helping.
"Maybe we should have worn civilian clothes," Wally murmured.
Artemis looked at him. "You say that as though your personality would become less conspicuous."
Wally placed a hand over his chest in mock offence. "My personality is delightful."
"It is exhausting."
"You keep using that word."
"Because it keeps being accurate."
Robin suppressed a smile as they continued into the village. The silence was strange. It wasn't hostile, exactly. More wary than anything. People watched them from doorways and windows, but nobody approached. A group of children playing near one of the irrigation channels disappeared behind a house as soon as they noticed the newcomers. Robin could hardly blame them. Their presence here was going to attract attention whether they wanted it or not.
Then an elderly man appeared from a path between two houses. He was perhaps seventy, perhaps a little older, with weathered features, a broad straw hat shielding his face from the sun and a simple workman's clothing beneath it. He walked with a slight stoop but no obvious frailty, carrying a wooden-handled farming tool over one shoulder. He stopped several metres away.
Then, to Robin's surprise, he spoke in fluent English. "Young people from the city rarely come here without wanting something."
Wally blinked. Robin stepped forward. "We're looking for someone."
The old man regarded him for a long moment. "Many people come looking for someone."
"We're looking for a young man. Black hair. Tall. Very strong. He has a tail and usually carries a sword."
The change in the old man's expression was immediate. Not fear, recognition. He lowered the farming tool from his shoulder. "You are looking for Bardock."
Robin exchanged a glance with M'Gann. "We are."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"
Robin hesitated. "We're trying to understand what he's been doing in the region."
The old man studied them again, and Robin had the distinct impression that he was deciding whether they deserved an answer. "He has done much for this village."
"We've heard."
"No." The old man said. "You have heard rumours. That is different." He stepped closer. "My name is Nakamura Hiroshi. I have lived here for sixty-eight years. My father was born in this village, and his father before him. I remember when the road was dirt and the electricity failed whenever the rain became heavy. I remember the first men who came here from the cities and told us that our land was valuable. I remember the men who came after them with guns."
His voice had remained calm, but something old and bitter had entered it.
"The Triad used our roads to move goods. The Yakuza used our fields to hide shipments. Officials were paid to look elsewhere. When we complained, we were told that the problems were temporary. When we refused to cooperate, our crops were damaged. When one of our young men tried to resist, he was beaten badly enough that he spent two weeks in hospital."
Artemis's expression tightened. "And then Bardock arrived?"
Hiroshi nodded. "He came to us alone." The old man's face softened. "He was strange. Very strange. Yet he spoke fluent Japanese. He had that enormous tail, and he carried that sword as though it weighed nothing. He looked like a young man who had wandered into the wrong country and somehow become even more lost when people began shouting at him." A faint smile appeared. "But he was polite."
Robin glanced at Conner. Conner's expression had become considerably less hostile, though he still looked unconvinced. "What happened?"
Hiroshi looked back towards the village. "The criminals came here one evening. They wanted to use one of the old storage buildings near the shrine. Bardock was there because we had given him food. He asked them to leave."
Wally raised an eyebrow. "I guess that went well."
Hiroshi actually laughed. "No. It went very badly for them." The old man's smile broadened. "He did not kill the first group. He simply picked up their truck and put it in the irrigation canal."
Wally's eyes widened. "He picked up the truck?"
"With one hand." There was a brief silence. Hiroshi continued as though he'd just mentioned Bardock carrying a sack of rice. "They returned with more men. Bardock told them they were frightening the children. They laughed at him."
"And then?" Robin asked.
"They stopped laughing." Hiroshi looked towards the mountains. "After that, the village became quiet."
Robin folded his arms. "Quiet because he killed them?"
The old man's expression hardened. "Some died." The answer was direct. "Some ran. Some were taken to the police. Some simply disappeared from this area and never returned. I will not tell you that I approved of every death. I am an old man, not a fool. Violence has consequences, and I have lived long enough to understand that very well." He looked Robin directly in the eye. "But neither will I pretend that we were safer before he came."
Robin didn't know how to answer that.
Hiroshi turned away and gestured towards the fields. "He stayed."
"He's living here?" M'Gann asked.
"Of course." The answer carried such obviousness that M'Gann seemed momentarily taken aback.
"Where?"
Hiroshi pointed towards the far side of the village. "There is a small house near the western fields. He has been repairing it."
Robin looked towards the indicated building in the distance. "He lives alone?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
Hiroshi smiled. "Nearly since the beginning."
Robin's eyes narrowed. "You're saying Bardock has been here almost since he arrived on Earth?"
"Yes."
"So, you know he's an alien."
"You Americans are so fond of that word, aren't you? I prefer 'guest'. But yes, we know. He told us himself."
That was a significant revelation. Batman had told them Bardock had disappeared after escaping the Watchtower. The League had assumed he had been travelling. Searching. Hiding. He had apparently done something much simpler. He'd found a village, helped its people, and stayed. Hiroshi seemed amused by their surprise.
"You expected him to be somewhere else?"
"We weren't sure where he was," Robin admitted.
"Well, now you know." The old man lifted his straw hat slightly, looking towards the western fields. "He has become quite useful."
Wally grinned. "Useful how?"
Hiroshi's expression became almost paternal. "He learned to operate our old plough in less than an afternoon. The first time he tried, he broke it."
Artemis smiled despite herself. "He broke the plough?"
"He was very embarrassed. He apologised repeatedly. Then he repaired it himself." The old man's smile deepened. "After that, he could work the fields faster than three men." Kaldur looked genuinely impressed at that. "He helped with agriculture. He helps with everything." Hiroshi began counting on his fingers. "He catches fish in the river. Not one or two. He comes back with enough to feed half the village. He carries sacks of rice that would normally require three men. He repairs fences. He helps the children when they get lost. And whenever the bears come down from the mountains..." He shook his head fondly, chuckling a little. "The bears are very frightened of Bardock."
Wally stared at him."Bardock scares bears away?"
"Usually by shouting."
"Just shouting?"
"Usually. They seemed to get the message when he captured one and used its paws for soup. He gave the rest of the meat to the village."
Wally looked at Robin. Robin shrugged. At this point, he wasn't sure why anything surprised him.
Hiroshi looked around at the village. "You should understand something before you decide what Bardock is."
Robin's attention returned to him. "He did not come here asking to be our protector. We made him one." The old man's voice had softened. "He eats with us. He works beside us. He sits beneath the cherry trees with the children. He asks questions about things that seem very ordinary to us, because apparently ordinary things are not ordinary where he comes from."
Something in that sentence caught Robin. "Where does he come from?"
Hiroshi shook his head. "He has never given me a proper answer."
"Does he talk about it?"
"Sometimes."
"And what does he say?"
The old man smiled faintly. "That he misses people." Robin's expression changed. Hiroshi adjusted his straw hat. "I think that is why he stayed."
The Team stared between each other as M'Gann opened up a telepathic link between all of them to talk. They deliberated for a few minutes before Zatara finally turned back to the old man.
"Do you know where we can find him now?"
The old man gave them a smile, though it looked like he wasn't actually looking at them.
"Ojiichan, I think you've given them enough of your precious time." A voice said behind them, making them all spin around to find Bardock standing behind them. None of them had noticed he was there, or even felt him approach. Conner hadn't heard anything nor did M'Gann even sense his mind. In fact, even now she couldn't. The Saiyan looked at each of them before looking back at the old man. "Go back home and rest. You're not supposed to be up and about on that bad leg. You know I will have to tell your wife about it if she asks me."
"And we don't want that do we?" Hiroshi laughed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead using a handkerchief he'd procured from somewhere. "I'll leave them in your capable hands. Don't forget our shogi night at the izakaya…I forget the English word."
"I think 'pub' would be the appropriate translation." Bardock smiled pleasantly. "O-karada ni ki o tsukete kudasai."
Hiroshi smiled at that, waving as he turned around and walked back to his house. Bardock's own smile faded after that as he fixated on their group. Something about him was very unnerving. The Team wasn't unused to confrontation and fighting vastly more powerful opponents together. But the very air around Bardock felt heavy and wrong, as if he gave off a literal aura of intimidation around him. And he didn't even seem like he was actively doing it either.
He was just standing there in front of them wearing sandals and the gi pants they saw in the catalogue of items he'd taken from the watchtower. But he was completely shirtless, exposing his warrior physique to them as the girls found themselves staring a little. Now that he was in front of them, he was huge, towering over them even though he didn't look that much older. And though his stature wasn't that of a wall of muscle like Conner, he still made Superboy look small in comparison.
Over his shoulder was a stick with a net attached to the end, the net filled with fish freshly caught. His tail was wrapped around his waist like a belt instead of being let out like the pictures they saw. Every one of them there immediately realized that no one else wanted it to come to a fight with Bardock, like it was instinctive. Robin went to speak before Bardock raised his hand, cutting him off before he could even speak.
"If we're going to talk, let's do it somewhere away from the village." With that he left the fish inside a bucket that was conveniently placed nearby and walked across the fields leading to the house he was rebuilding.
They looked at each other before following quietly, none knowing exactly what to say even to each other. Because even with his back turned, the pressure they felt around Bardock never faded. If nothing else, this confirmed that Bardock was healed from whatever injuries he'd sustained. They followed until Bardock stopped at the porch of the little house and turned around to look back at them.
"Now then, you finally found me. So tell me, what the hell do you want?"
-+-
-Bonus Scene-
Chronoa stood alone in the temporal observatory, staring at the enormous display suspended above the centre of the Time Nest. Usually, the sight would have been reassuring. Countless timelines stretched across the projection in intricate layers, branching histories and parallel worlds forming a vast, luminous tapestry that only someone with her particular responsibilities could truly appreciate.
Tonight, however, much of that tapestry was obscured by distortion. Sections of the display flickered intermittently, whole branches refusing to resolve properly while temporal alarms continued to whisper in the background. Something had happened at a scale large enough to disturb the machinery of the Time Nest itself, and Chronoa had already spent the better part of an hour attempting to understand exactly what.
The doors opened behind her, and she didn't need to turn around to know who had entered. The atmosphere itself seemed to change whenever the Grand Minister arrived, not because he deliberately imposed his presence upon a room, but because everything around him seemed to become quieter in recognition of it. For the Grand Minister to leave the side of the Omni-Kings and come here himself was no light matter and she would have most certainly given him the proper greeting if she wasn't so worried about her Future Warrior and two best Time Patrollers at the moment.
Chronoa remained facing the display as he approached, her arms folded tightly across her chest and her expression unusually severe. "Grand Minister," she said at last, her voice lacking its usual energy. "We have a problem."
"I am aware," the Grand Minister replied. He stopped several paces behind her, his hands folded calmly behind his back as he examined the distorted temporal display. "The disturbance was detected throughout the multiverse. I presume you have determined its source."
Chronoa gave a humourless laugh. "Demigra."
There was a brief pause before the Grand Minister responded. "Again?"
"Again." Chronoa confirmed, finally turning around. "I've lost count of how many times I've had this conversation. He body-hopped into another alternate version of himself, escaped into a different history, and somehow managed to cause another temporal crisis before we'd even finished cleaning up the last one. I'm beginning to think Demigra considers being killed a minor inconvenience."
The Grand Minister's expression remained composed, though a faint trace of resignation appeared in his eyes. "That assessment would not be entirely unreasonable."
Chronoa shook her head and turned back towards the display. "He found Hearts' Universe Seed."
That made the Grand Minister's attention sharpen. "The Universe Seed?"
"Yes. And he didn't merely use it as a power source." Chronoa raised one hand, and several sections of the display expanded around them, revealing dozens of branching timelines marked by increasingly severe energy fluctuations. "He hijacked the entire thing. Demigra used the Demon Realm as a network of conduits and started draining energy from multiple timelines simultaneously. Not just one or two. Dozens. Potentially hundreds before we realised what he was doing. He was taking energy from different points in history and dragging all of it into the present."
The Grand Minister examined the projections in silence. "A simultaneous temporal extraction."
"Exactly." Chronoa's voice became increasingly strained as she continued. "The amount of energy he accumulated was absurd. Whole regions of different timelines were beginning to destabilise because their energy was being siphoned away faster than the temporal structure could compensate. If Bardock hadn't found him when he did, Demigra might have continued until there was nothing left for him to drain."
"And Bardock confronted him."
Chronoa nodded. "He defeated him."
The Grand Minister looked at her with a small smile. "Again."
Chronoa gave him a tired look. "Yes. Again. For what must be approaching the thousandth time by now."
There was almost something comical about the repetition of it, except neither of them found the situation particularly funny anymore. Demigra's ability to evade permanent defeat by transferring himself between alternate versions had turned him into one of the Time Patrol's most persistent problems. Bardock, in particular, had developed an almost absurd personal history with him. Every time Demigra resurfaced, Bardock eventually found him. Every time Bardock found him, Demigra was defeated. Every time Demigra was defeated, somehow another version of the demon emerged from another branch of history and started the cycle again.
Chronoa's expression hardened. "Except this time Demigra knew he couldn't win."
The Grand Minister's gaze returned to her. "So he detonated the Seed."
"He did more than that." Chronoa swallowed. "He overloaded it deliberately. All the energy he'd stolen from the different timelines was still concentrated inside the Seed when he set it off. Bardock had already beaten him, but Demigra chose to destroy everything rather than accept another defeat."
The Grand Minister's eyes narrowed slightly. "And Bardock?"
"He transformed." Chronoa's voice became quieter. "Into one of his 'Legendary Super Saiyan Blue' forms. These Saiyans and their naming senses."
For the first time, the Grand Minister's composure showed the faintest indication of concern. He knew Bardock's transformations well enough to understand what that particular form represented, and he knew that Bardock's relationship with his own power was considerably more complicated than that of an ordinary Saiyan. 'Legendary Super Saiyan Blue' was not something Bardock used casually. In fact, it could be counted on one hand how many times the Saiyan even used it. It represented an enormous escalation, particularly when paired with the circumstances Chronoa was describing.
"He had no choice," she continued. "The explosion was already expanding. There wasn't enough time to evacuate anyone, and there was no way to contain it normally. Trunks was in danger of being vaporized and Bardock realised that the only thing capable of opposing the energy coming out of the Seed was his own."
"He took a page from Android 17's book then. I watched contestant 17 use that very same tactic myself in the Tournament of Power."
"Yes." Chronoa's fingers tightened around her sleeves. "He pushed his energy outward at the same moment the Universe Seed detonated. He wasn't trying to overpower it. He was trying to meet the explosion head-on and cancel enough of it to keep the blast from consuming everything around him." The Grand Minister said nothing. Chronoa's eyes lowered. "And then reality broke." The words were spoken quietly, but their implications filled the chamber. "It wasn't a normal temporal distortion. It wasn't another branch opening. It wasn't a portal. The collision between Bardock's energy and the Universe Seed's detonation tore through the boundary of our reality. The fabric of space itself gave way." She looked back at the display, where the affected region was represented by a vast black scar cutting through the temporal projection. "The breach opened at the exact point of the explosion. Bardock disappeared into it. So did Demigra."
"And Trunks?"
"We don't know." Chronoa's expression faltered. The Grand Minister remained silent. "I lost track of him when the breach opened." Chronoa continued. "Bardock was between him and the explosion. He was shielding him, but I couldn't see what happened after the rupture formed. There was too much energy interference. I don't know whether Trunks was pulled through with him, whether he was thrown clear, or whether he..." She stopped herself before finishing the sentence.
The Grand Minister understood anyway.
Chronoa took a breath and forced herself to continue. "There's something else." His eyes settled upon her. "The Four-Star Super Dragon Ball."
For several seconds, the Grand Minister did not respond.
"It was in the area." Chronoa said. "Just floating there. Of all the ridiculous coincidences in existence, one of the Super Dragon Balls happened to be passing through that exact region when the breach opened."
"And it was caught by the rupture."
"Yes." Chronoa's voice carried a note of disbelief that bordered on frustration. "It was pulled through with everything else."
The Grand Minister turned his attention towards the temporal display again. The implications were considerable. The Super Dragon Balls were not ordinary objects, and the Four-Star Super Dragon Ball was now somewhere beyond the known boundaries of their creation. They had no coordinates. No temporal signature. No reliable means of tracking its location. It was simply gone.
Chronoa stared at the empty region where Bardock's temporal signature had once been visible. Her expression slowly crumpled. "I'm worried about him."
The Grand Minister looked back at her. "I know."
"No, I mean I'm really worried." Chronoa's voice trembled despite her efforts to steady it. "I've lost Future Warriors before. I've watched people die. I've watched entire histories disappear. That's part of this job, whether I like it or not. But Bardock..." She shook her head, struggling to find the words. "He's been with us for so long. He's not just another Warrior I assigned to a mission. He's one of ours."
The Grand Minister said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"He's my Future Warrior," Chronoa said. "I trained him. I watched him grow into what he is now. I've sent him into situations that should have killed him more times than I care to remember, and every single time he came back complaining about something as though the entire universe had personally inconvenienced him. He always comes back." Her eyes glistened. "This time he might not."
The Grand Minister approached her slowly. "Chronoa, you have no evidence that Bardock is dead."
"I don't have evidence that he's alive either."
"No," he agreed. "You do not."
She looked at him expectantly. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
"Have faith in him."
Chronoa frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like something people say when they don't have an answer."
"Sometimes it is," the Grand Minister replied. "In this case, however, I mean it quite literally. You have personally witnessed Bardock survive circumstances that should have been impossible. You have watched him adapt to situations that would have overwhelmed other Warriors. You know his character better than almost anyone." He paused, and his expression softened. "If there is someone who can survive being thrown through an unknown breach in reality after countering an explosion of that magnitude, it is Bardock."
Chronoa looked away. "I hope you're right."
"So do I." The admission caught her off guard. She looked back at him. The Grand Minister rarely allowed his personal feelings to become visible, particularly when discussing matters of cosmic consequence. Yet there was no mistaking the seriousness in his expression now. "The breach concerns me as well," he said. "Not merely because Bardock may be trapped beyond it. We do not know where the rupture leads."
Chronoa's expression became serious. "You're worried something might come through."
"That is one possibility."
"And Grand Zeno?"
The Grand Minister was silent for a moment before answering. "His Majesty is concerned."
Chronoa's eyes widened slightly. "About Bardock?"
"Among other things." The Grand Minister looked towards the damaged temporal display. "Grand Zeno considers Bardock a personal friend, much as he considers the Saiyan Goku a friend. Bardock has spent considerable time in his presence, and His Majesty is quite taken with him as he is with his uncle. Naturally, the Omni King is concerned about what has happened to him."
Chronoa nodded. "But the breach itself is a greater uncertainty and we don't know what lies beyond it. We don't know whether it connects to another universe, another creation, another dimensional structure entirely..."
"Correct. That is a succinct summary of the situation at present."
Chronoa stared at the black-purple scar across the display. "And we don't know whether something on the other side can see us."
The Grand Minister's expression became grave. "That is precisely why Grand Zeno is considering how best to proceed."
Chronoa's eyes widened. "He's not going to destroy it?"
"Not without first determining whether doing so would endanger Bardock or Trunks."
She exhaled slowly. That was both reassuring and terrifying. The Omni-King possessed the power to erase anything within his authority. If the breach represented an unknown threat to his multiverse, there were very few beings who could prevent him from simply removing it. Yet Bardock's presence on the other side changed the equation. Zeno would not casually erase a friend simply because doing so was convenient.
The Grand Minister turned away from the display. "For now, you are to stand by."
Chronoa grimaced. "I hate standing by. I should be looking for him."
"I know. But if you attempt to force another temporal connection without understanding the breach, you may widen it." Chronoa reluctantly fell silent. The Grand Minister gave her a final look. "Trust Bardock."
She looked once more towards the damaged section of the temporal display. Somewhere beyond that impossible wound, Bardock was either fighting, surviving, injured, unconscious, or perhaps simply trying to understand where he had ended up. She could not see him. She could not sense him. She could not even tell whether the rules of time still applied wherever he had gone. But Bardock had always been remarkably stubborn about dying.
Chronoa managed a faint smile. "Fine," she said quietly. "I'll trust him."
The Grand Minister nodded and turned towards the doors. "Good."
Chronoa watched him leave, then returned her gaze to the fractured display. Her smile disappeared, replaced by quiet worry.
"Just come back, Bardock," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "You've got a thousandth rematch with Demigra waiting for you when you do."