Slowly the new Piccolo walked his face over the window. The air seemed full of energy around them, and the smell of ozone, chlorine, and some other harsh chemicals lingered in the air. Piccolo was tense to the last. Finally he gathered up all his remaining courage and touched the pane. Nothing happened. Piccolo felt it: it was cool, but not metallic, and perfectly smooth. The voice that claimed it was his 'mission' was now almost screaming. He was there, now he just had to wait, she said. Only briefly, very briefly, it was almost time, then he would be finished and could leave all that behind. Piccolo forced himself to remain calm, but he couldn't. Nervously, he slowly hovered over the window and patted it. Even though it was as hard as steel, Piccolo only gave a soft knock, like fabric. What's this? Why is it what it is? What should i do with him? Will it do something to meQuestion after question, and Piccolo had no answers. He felt like a baby who had been taken from his parents the day he was born and is now crawling around in some big city, unable to understand why. There was nothing better - Piccolo leaned against the wall and waited.


Minutes passed as the lights on the plate continued to blink erratically and the smell and energy slowly became a habit. Finally Piccolo decided to use the time to do a few exercises. He urgently needed to calm down if his mission was to succeed. So he got up, walked to the center of the aisle, and concentrated. He had performed a shakra almost every day in his first life, but that was different. He had stood on the roof of Dende's palace and enjoyed the morning air, knowing that he would be able to satisfy his hunger in a short time. There was almost no air here, just the acrid stench. And he probably wouldn't find food anytime soon.Still he tried, dancing deliberately slowly in front of the enigmatic disk that would seal his fate. Slowly but confidently, unspeakable calm, serenity flowed through him, he knew exactly that he would die at some point, even if he survived this, it was the way things went, he didn't care. He had to die anyway, why not here and now? He could blow himself into the cosmos with this black thing. His friends would never know what had happened. And the voice would die with him. No. Not here. Not now. Not in this bastard. He wanted to die in Dende's palace, in the presence of his friends. Not here. A great anger built up in Piccolo, anger at the injustice that had brought him here. Anger at himself for not being able to do anything. `NEEEEEIIIIIN !!!! 'he exclaimed, shocked at the despair he heard in his own voice. He slowly calmed down. He had to pull himself together. He relaxed, sat down exhausted and closed his eyes.Completed the shakra. When he opened it again, he looked directly at the pane. Something was different again ... He got up and looked at her. There! At the very top left there was now a faint red point of light. It got bigger and bigger until it took up the whole plate. It was a dark, pleasant red. Piccolo stepped back and was amazed to see how a head formed out of the light. The three-dimensional image became sharper and sharper. Now he saw that it had to be a Namek. Even for a Namek, the features were extremely angular, but the face had relatively small ears. Now the eyes also formed, and they were deep and intelligent, although they were only made of red light. For a while, neither his face nor Piccolo moved and looked at each other in silence. Then the face opened its mouth and spoke ...