Hi everyone! My first Fic, set after the Boo Saga, is about my favorite group, Piccolo. Comments welcome.




`Klapp` ....` Klapp` .... `Klapp` .... Piccolo got nervous. This noise clearly worried him, although his common sense kept telling him that it was only coming from some machine, perhaps even from an alarm clock. Something normal. Everything was normal.




But Piccolo knew it wasn't normal. He knew it wasn't an alarm clock, no machine, nothing normal. And he was scared. Why he? Why not, as usual, Son Goku or the children? Why had they torn him from his beautiful life, especially now that the Saya-Jinns had everything under control. Holy shit. And it was probably even his own people who ripped him into it. Anger at himself sprouted in Piccolo, anger because he couldn't be angry about that SHIT. Damn it! Everything was different. He had changed his color.All of his friends had looked at him like someone they didn't know. He had been given a mission, if you can call it that. In fact, the 'mission' was a gross, little, annoying voice in his mind that claimed to be his mission. She had also told him that the Namekians were her creators. And he knew it was the truth. But worst of all was that power. Yes, power. He had tons of them, but he couldn't control them. As soon as he tried, he was in pain like he had never felt it before. So close yet so far. Close enough to annoy him, to provoke him, without tempting him. And far enough to humiliate him. And now he was no longer Piccolo, the green, intelligent and popular but weak Namek. He was the other Piccolo, with a power the Namek shouldn't know. And it was black. He felt that he could no longer call himself Piccolo. He needed a name. Anything to build on.Just not on this 'mission'.




But he had already listened to her, if only because it is impossible to name yourself. She had led him to this place. She had called him 'Tor'. But it didn't look like a gate here: a large, smooth dome on a small asteroid. The 'Mission' had shown him where to blow up the wall. And now he was standing in the gate. The gateway to the goal of his mission. A low corridor, just high enough to stand, about 3 meters wide and with many seemingly random corners. Piccolo now crouched in front of such a corner and listened to the noise. `Klapp` ....` Klapp` .... That's it now. He couldn't wait here forever. He got up quietly and gathered as much strength as he could without collapsing in pain. Then he teleported to a point slightly diagonally behind the corner, ready to work his devil's spiral.


But he never got around to it: 20 meters in front of him there was a postcard-sized square black disc in the middle of a small, simple table.A faint greenish shimmer lay over the pane. Piccolo cautiously crept closer, not taking his eyes off his surroundings. Small green dots flashed cheerfully on the pane. The constant `clap` ....` clap` .... seemed to emanate from the pane. He approached even closer and was now looking directly from above at the mysterious black surface. The dots appeared to be letters, or maybe digits, but he couldn't read the language. Maybe an alarm clock after all? Piccolo had to smile at the thought. No, it wasn't that simple, he knew that. Though his reason hadn't been that wrong in its reasoning. When he concentrated, however, he noticed that the `Klapp`s did not appear every second and also not always regularly. So what then? He did not know.