Scene #7657: One And A Half Men

Owner	Pose
Gilgamesh	The Layered Deeps. Ruins stretch as far as the eye can see. In fact, this particular area of the Layered Deeps is even denser with the crumbled past. No apocalypse bunkers or hidden civilizations here - this place is a hellhole of leaning skyscrapers, crumbling temples, empty wizard's towers full of skeletons, crashed spaceships, and other wrecks of civilizations that no longer Are. It's a slapdash ramshackle hell. A graveyard of empires. The only clean thing in the entire area is a colossal golden temple. Pure water spills down its sides, waterfalls that then wind impossibly up through the air and back to the top. There's a small sun simply hanging above it. Jungle plants drape along its walls. It is a beautiful thing - something more Real than Real, something that stands out amongst the impossibly desolate landscape as a declaration of Existence, as a declaration of Power. These worlds around me crumbled, says the great temple, but my walls will never crumble. Except, at the top, it's not a temple at all. The sun warms the spilling lake to the point of steam. Flowers bloom on all sides from an ancient and mythical past. The trees that hang hang with tropical fruits, oranges and bananas and coconuts. It is a luxurious paradise dedicated to the mere concept of Civilization's achievements, a truth that lies before the great Temple of Solomon, before the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, before Macchu Picchu and the Hagia Sophia and Notre Dame. It is a place that stories were built upon. It's a fucking hot spring. And sitting atop it, soaking in the water, is the perfect being. And he is perfect. His body is perfect. Eerily so. .Every part of him is flawless, as if he was manufactured rather than born, lacking imperfections of any sort. He is Real in a way that even the temple isn't, a monument to mythology itself. Upon this perfect foundation were legends built. Upon this perfect foundation were heroes made, heroes inspired by the impossible deeds of this King of Heroes, who may not have followed his legend but followed his example. He's drinking out of a goblet of gold so magical it probably has its own power level. It's a banana daqiri. It's being poured out of a floating stone blender. This is a man whose recreation is mythology itself.
Vegeta	"So this is what you do." Vegeta says as he arrives with no fanfare, arms crossed, slowly floating down until he's about ten feet above the ground, staring at the sight of Gilgamesh engaging in what appears to be decadent behavior. He raises a hand to press a button on the side of his scouter, his eyes focused on the lens as if testing something. "So this is how it works now. I'm not entirely sure what this thing is telling me. Perhaps I have to beat instructions out of Staren." This is briefly considered, before Vegeta just holds his hand out and starts opening fire, unleashing white balls of explosive energy as he essentially carpet bombs the area from where he stands. This is hardly much power for him, each blast about the equivalent of a grenade, he's simply engaging in wanton destruction and testing the man. "So, Child King, are you alive or did I waste my time?"
Gilgamesh	The scouter starts screaming as it tries to look at the King. It's just...it can't understand what it's looking at. It's something sideways, something outside, something sideways, something nonsensical. Power that isn't human. Power that doesn't make sense. The King looks up as Vegeta hangs there above him, sipping from his golden goblet. He's watching the shorter man very, very carefully. There's a sense in those red eyes that Vegeta's being judged. Like he's on trial. Like he's being observed. The blasts come raining down. Scalding hot water erupts from the explosions. It goes everywhere, scattering in a scorching rainfall that splatters across the flowers and sizzles. The whole place is filled with aggressive steam - hardly anything for a saiyan, but probably enough to flash-cook a human in an instant. The steam clears. The King of Heroes is standing several feet away from the site of the explosion. He's completely naked, still holding his goblet in one hand. He raises the goblet to his lips, his eyes still focused on Vegeta. There are some mild burns, but it looks like, somehow, he just...evaded most of the attack. Like he could see it coming in those red eyes. Didn't he say he could see his own future last night? "Well," he says thoughtfully, waving his free hand, "I must admit, I'm pleased you showed up. If nothing else you have that over most of the people who sit and sling mud at the King, hoping it will do something more than give me a pleasant covering for a bath." He starts walking along the rim of the lake. It's already filling with more of the water from on the spiralling, impossible fountains. "Someone ambitious enough to challenge the imposible mountain is at least worth a few hours of my time, if nothing else." The King turns to look at Vegeta dead on. He's covered in red tattoos that match the light of his eyes. The goblet goes to his lips. "Let's see. Based on that..." The King hold up the goblet in his hand. "Why don't you try and knock this out of my hand as a start. I won't use any of my treasures to help me. In fact, I'll even put my other hand behind my back." He does so. "Allow me to teach you about civilization." And then the King kicks off the ground. The sense of force is unbelievable. He's powerful - raw, unfettered power. His knee comes swinging up for Vegeta's jaw with enough power to break an oncoming train. "Do you know what will become of your people in a generation's time?" He asks as he lands on the other side of the lake, balancing gently on the rim.
Vegeta	Yak! Deculture! Vegeta averts his eyes for a moment, holding up his hand, "Put on some pants!" he shouts, right as the knee slams directly into his jaw and sends him barreling into the ground, splitting a tree clear in half with his own body. He slowly stands, rubbing his cheek, then spits some blood. "So this is the kind of power people have in the Multiverse..." he says far more seriously now, standing back up to his feet. "You talk about a lot of petty problems. A future version of me rebuilt the race for himself out of Multiverse Saiyans. I guess he didn't have the stomach to kill Frieza and accept reality." He spreads his arms out, staring the king down with an almost psychotic conviction in the face of this powerful opponent. "The Saiyan race is dead, and if they are or aren't in other universes is hardly my concern. They live through me and the few of us who survive. There is no rebuilding, and such matters are things that you accept. It is a natural part of existence. I have wiped out entire civilizations, just as mine was wiped out." He suddenly blurs across the field and bridges the gap in a flash that would look like teleportation to any normal human, then just starts quickly launching blows at Gilgamesh's face, arms, gut, with every limb he can possibly throw at the man. "I'm in no mood for your arms. You toy with me and you'll die, no matter how powerful you are!"
Gilgamesh	"Why?" Gilgamesh asks, quite seriously. "This is how we fought in the ancient world. In the era of gods and monsters. In the era that I ruled, unchallenged. I am perfect. My body is perfect." "Shame is for those who have something to be ashamed of." Vegeta launches into an assault. He swings. He's fast, and he's tough, and he's rough, and... And nothing lands. Not even one strike. And then the scouter finally clicks into place, and starts reading the King properly, and everything changes. The King is powerful. The King is ludicrously powerful. He's strong, he's fast, he's tough in ways that humans simply can't understand. More than that, though, he's in complete control of his body. He's in absolute control. There's no delay between thought and action, no delay between decision and action. It's like decisiveness is hardcoded into him when it comes to fighting. And he's experienced, too. Ludicrously so. Now that he's not pretending, not laying around in a bath, and the scouter's actually had a few seconds to try and understand what it's looking at, it's clear as day: this is something that has fought monsters for its entire life. This is more than confidence, more than arrogance. This is certainty. Oh, and he's definitely reading the future. The scouter is absolutely sure. The King is moving not based on reaction but preaction. Before Vegeta's even decided to throw a punch. Before Vegeta's even decided to strike. Before Vegeta's come up with his next step, the King's aready moving to evade that step. But he's still not giving off any power at all. No sense of magic. No sense of ki. No sense of anything. The goblet is blindingly bright, numbers going absolutely batshit, but the King himself? Nothing. But that has to be wrong. Eventually one of Vegeta's fists comes swinging in and the King blocks it with the hand holding the goblet. There's a thunderous eruption, a shockwave that bends trees backwards, knocks fruits from their trees, scatters flower petals. "No, no. On that, I agree with you," Gilgamesh says conversationally. He raises the goblet to his lips and turn sideways to evade another strike. He's not faster than Vegeta, the scouter can tell - he's just...moving before Vegeta can. "I don't intend to persuade you to rebuild." And then Gilgamesh's face is right up in his. The King is bending down to look at the Prince, his red eyes directly in front of Vegeta. "The purpose of civilization is leaving behind your glories for the next generation." His foot comes up to smash Vegeta's stomach, hard. He raises the goblet again. "Imagine it. Imagine your people's name, resounding through history. Imagine the name 'Vegeta' painted across the stars, someone so mighty that others yearn to be like you. Imagine the future that could have been if you had learned to paint, learned to write, learned to build monuments to your own glories." The King hops backwards and takes another sip. "You inspire no one, now. You'll be forgotten. All your conquests. All your majesties. All your glories, snuffed out because you never bothered to record them. In a generation or so, you'll be forgotten. No one will even remember that the Saiyans existed. Those planets you conquered. Those peoples you wiped out. That power you held." "Don't you find that sad?" Another sip. "I do. I hate seeing inspiration wasted. I hate seeing power squandered rather than celebrated." "Tell me about your Frieza."
Vegeta	Vegeta tries to adjust to those readings, when it dawns on him that his reactions are quite literally //impossible//. It's also clear that with each impossible dodge, something absolutely psychotic in this Saiyan's blood is trying to adjust to this prescience. There are micro changes in Vegeta's blows when the data begins to make sense to him. He can't hit Gilgamesh, but the God-King is experienced enough to recognize that each attempted blow seems to lead to some bizarre level of improvement, like the Saiyan is gradually trying to adjust to this strange form of otherworldly combat, rather than breaking under the apparent futility of it. But soon he's doubled over, his feet dug into the dirt as he coughs from the swift blow to the gut. He considers the man's words, considers his movements deeper, considers the one thing that Saiyans always consider: Opportunity. "Sad? The only thing sad is the desire to claw to life as if there's some deeper meaning. My only desire is to //fight//, to show the honor of what being a Saiyan truly is. If I'm not remembered across the stars, it simply means I was too weak to be remembered. I have no desire for my race to be remembered for pretty pictures." He begins to remove his armor, tossing it to the ground, then his gloves, boots, and finally he peels his blue jumpsuit from his body, until he, too, is naked, other than his scouter. "Frieza is the most powerful being in the universe, short of actual gods. He has never trained a day in his life, he was simply born the most powerful. Though I realize since coming to the Multiverse, just how limitless the power of a Saiyan can be, so I no longer believe Frieza to be some unbeatable living god." He suddenly flares, a white aura flaring from his body as he charges toward Gilgamesh again. "You can see the future, is that it? Tell me, is the future fated, or is it simply a matter of probability?" he asks as there seems to be a hint of excitement in his voice now, suddenly throwing a punch significantly faster than any previous punches, to the point that it's almost like he swings it at three places at once, testing Gilgamesh's reaction time.
Gilgamesh	Ah, interesting. He's learning. That's...interesting. The King watches Vegeta try just a little bit harder. Just a little bit more. Push himself, step by step. He watches the Prince push forward and try and try and try to do the impossible, and, for the first time in a very long time, there's a genuine, actual smile on the King's face whenever he sips from his goblet. No, he's not showing it to Vegeta yet. Maybe in a bit. "Pictures?" Gilgamesh laughs. "You think that I'm remembered for pictures?" "I'm remembered because of my deeds. My strength." He holds up the goblet as Vegeta speaks. "Not 'because of the pictures.' The pictures are records. Memories. The writing isn't the reason I'm remembered. The writing is the record of my strength. Of my glory. They aren't mutually exclusive, you know." "You can already tell that I'm powerful. But my name resounds throughout a million billion worlds - every world that has an Earth, every world that has had a Gilgamesh, that Gilgamesh is remembered as a legendary figure, a power beyond." He listens, as Vegeta starts stripping, his eyes still locked on the alien. He listens to the speech about Frieza. He listens, and listens, and listens, and he judges, and judges, and judges. And then, the King says something completely unexpected. "My apologies." When Vegeta's swing comes in, it's blocked, not by the King, but by three extrusions of...something. Three golden ripples, three golden...something. The scouter, again, goes nuts just trying to understand what it's looking at. The King steps backwards. "I see only my own future, across the infinite paths it could take. The left, the right, the center - all are open to me, not probabilities but certainties spreading into certainties spreading into certainties. They are all certainties - all that matters is choice." The King opens his hand. The goblet vanishes as it falls. Another golden ripple. His hand comes free. He spreads his arms. "Until this moment - until you spoke to me of this Frieza, until you showed me your true determination, your willingness to meet even the impossible mountain head on and refuse to break until you have climbed it - I have been mocking you as a mere hot-headed beast." "But this is nothing less than the essence of a hero. The desire to challenge the impossible until it becomes possible. The willingness to meet something impossible and keep pushing until you are either remembered for your glorious success or for your final, grand failure after climbing as high as your limits allow." A snap of his fingers. Ripples erupt all around him. It's a wall of golden ripples, golden holes in reality. The scouter starts screaming even louder. It's going into imaginary numbers. Into pure, gibbering nonsense. As the weapons start emerging, swords and axes and spears and all manner of pure, perfect, unbelievable majesties, each itself the foundation of a hundred stories, the prototypes, the building blocks of legend, the scouter is just shrieking. And then the King unleashes his own power, and it starts screaming even louder. A fatal error. It'll probably reboot in a moment. "So I shall meet you as you desire. I shall show you the majesty of the King of Heroes, Prince of All Saiyans." "You have earned that much." "Never stop climbing." Snap. "Gate of..." "Babylon." And so begins the storm.
Vegeta	"It seems you are far more than a mere child king. To think that such people exist in the Multiverse... hearing about these legends only encourages me! Yes, this power, something deep in my very bones..." Vegeta flies back, making space as Gilgamesh seems to be preparing something. But he stares down at his own hands. They're shaking rather violently. "I've spent my life encountering very little challenge. Conquering civilizations, blowing up planets. But a single opponent, strong enough to truly push me... Even without the intense training I've been doing, I never truly expected such a thing!" And then the weapons start coming. One stabs directly into his side, others slice against his arms and legs and even face. He tries to block them, and that works for a while, but it doesn't entirely help when they're some sort of insane god weapons. He doesn't close his eyes though, he watches the speed that they rain down on him, then starts to fly. He takes another to the shoulder and immediately pulls it out, dodging more and more accurately as he tries again and again. "This kind of combat!" He raises his arms and a hammer slams directly into his arms, sending him into some random temple wall, there long before either of them arrived. Yes... this feeling.. THIS IS THE KIND OF FIGHT WORTHY OF A SAIYAN PRINCE!!!" His shout is explosively loud, soon turning into a roar as the ground begins to shake, the sky darkening. His body is covered entirely in a blue-white aura, firing beams of energy in every which direction as the old temple he was launched into is just entirely annihilated, along with many of the trees and wildlife surrounding him. He just continues to yell as he manages to dig deep, truly feeling the power of trying to keep up with someone like this, of the already intense training he's been putting himself through... It doens't stop. Where Gilgamesh sent his rain of blades, Vegeta sends his pure rain of ki, with no concern for where it lands. The answer for where it lands is 'yes'.
Gilgamesh	Vegeta wakes up. The King's eyes widen with delight. Not surprise. Delight. Anyone who is willing to climb the impossible mountain should be capable of at least this much. There is a certain joy in seeing the choice he had hoped for play out before him, in seeing the essence of a challenger. "You had no civilization," The King says around the blasts. Like Vegeta, he's meeting the ki strikes with his weapons, the divine blades smashing into the glorious light. "You had no art, no sculpture, no writing. You were not preserved. Your people will not be legend." One of the shots gets through. It carves across the King's cheek. It draws blood. Even the cut is still beautiful upon him, an impossible addition to his perfection rather than a marring. It just isn't fair. The man is fucking gorgeous even when he's hurt. But it's damage. It's most assuredly damage. Vegeta got through the wall. He made it through the first phase. "But Vegeta might be." The King snaps his fingers again. "I shall teach you how to become legend. How to become more than simply a dying race's last lord. How to make your inevitable victory over your destroyer into something that will resound forever across the Multiverse." "I shall do this because there are so few willing to do what you have done here." "And the King is nothing if not gracious." "Hahahahaha! Praise my graciousness! Praise my kindness!" He throws back his head and laughs amidst the storm of weapons and ki, of explosions of divinity and destruction, of power meeting power. Well, he's definitely an arrogant bastard. Now he flicks out his finger. No longer is this a mere unguided storm of blades. Where once it was simply coming from one direction, a wall of destruction, now it starts popping open behind Vegeta, or above, or below, or from the sides. The weapons are endless. Limitless. There's no ammunition, no sense of draining magic, no sense of spellcraft. There's just more and more and more and more and more and all of them are unique. All of them have a different aura, a different sense to them, a different design. This isn't just the same weapons copied infinitely. These are all, individually, true. And they hit like fucking missiles.
Vegeta	Vegeta is trying his best to rapidly meet ki for blade as he finds more and more portals opening up around him. "I would taunt your fighting style, judge the use of these weapons, but it's clear to me that if I can't overcome such things, then it's my own weakness! You should focus on the glory of the battle in front of you, rather than worrying about my future!" He finds himself heavily impacted then, unable to keep up the amount of ki blasts required for the sheer volume of weapons that swarm at him, piercing his body in every which direction until he's laying on the ground, breathing heavily. One might take him for a beaten man, someone who's been entirely destroyed beyond any help. But just when it seems like he's beyond the point of no return, he yells, energy exploding from his body in a large sphere, sending the weapons lodged in his body flying in every random direction and creating a large crater under him, when he proceeds to float above as he re-orients himself. He's breathing, having apparently burned his wounds shut. "Any obvious opening will be an opening that you've already thought of, that someone has already considered exploiting. If you truly are as experienced as it seems, beyond the normal years of any mortal man, then truly, fighting you is beyond mere strategy. I am an ape, after all. No strategy, nothing beyond brute force could possibly defeat you. It's a simple, unavoidable fact." He stares down at his hand, forming a small sphere of white light that he then proceeds to toss high into the sky. "I don't take all of your insults entirely offensively. You are an observant man, really. I can't get anything past you. I doubt that at my current power and size, I can handle many more of these barrages. So it looks like sheer brute ape strength will have to do." He stares up at the sky, and his eyes suddenly turn weight, his heart rapidly thumping out of his chest. He begins to grow hair all over his body as he begins to rise, bones cracking and shifting. He grows and grows, becoming more ape-like, snout stretching like some kind of canine, until he's standing fifty feet above Gilgamesh. "Please, tell me the one about the monkey." he says in his booming voice, before unleashing a gigantic beam of energy from his mouth, meant to swallow the God-King and probably half the area whole.
Gilgamesh	"I can multitask," Gilgamesh replies idly. "I will let you consider something, Prince of Saiyans. Do you think I have these because of some quirk? Do you think them manifestations of my power, some form of magic? Do you think I am legend because I hold every treasure in the world?" The Oozaru rises as the moon does the same. Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow. Intriguing. He hadn't really guessed that Vegeta was a literal ape, so that's sort of amusing, in a funny kind of way. The monster gathers its breath, It's strong. It's very strong. It's an enormous power fueled by the might of a false moon. And it's somewhat intoxicating, in its own bestial way, a memory of a time long ago, when the King roamed the world, killing things like that. There's a nostalgic sigh upon the King's lips as the great beast powers up. And then the golden hot-springs temple vanishes, sun and all, leaving only the false moon in the sky. The King plummets. From inside his endless Gate, a series of orbiting spheres emerge, whirling around him. They catch the blast dead-on, sending him flying into a crashed spaceship. Chunks of metal go scattering. So did the beam. It burns through long burnt-out skyscrapers, through ancient monuments to long-dead worlds. It splattered against that defense. It shattered under the power of that strange orbiting shield. Or perhaps its power was redirected, or... Well. What matters is that he isn't dead. The King rises, flying on what looks like winged sandals. He has his hands behind his back. "I claimed them all by hand." The King doesn't fly forward. The Gate shuts. "They are real. They are, indeed, every treasure the world has to offer. Every majesty. Every wonder. All the riches of the Earth belong to me." "Because I went, and I killed monsters." "Because I struck down armies." The Gate opens in front of Gilgamesh. He reaches out and grabs some sort of...bowl? Full of...some sort of glowing liquid? Idly, his finger dips into it, and starts swirling it around. Swirling, and swirling, and- -Why is the sky going dark? Why is the false moon disappearing? What are those clouds, gathering in...the...same... ...direction... ...as his finger swirls- "You have ambitions, but they are not yet focused. You are not fighting me. You are fighting yourself." Gilgamesh's fingers continue to swirl, and the sky just begins to whirl, faster and faster, twisting horribly. Rain starts pouring, cold and harsh. "You are dreaming of a future where you are mighty enough to kill something your universe has deemed impossible, and what you are seeing is not the King of Heroes but a stepping stone to that future." The whole sky is coated in horrifying black clouds. In roaring storm. The only light is from Gilgamesh himself. The only thing visible is Gilgamesh's pulsing red tattoos, his pulsing red eyes, glowing brilliantly. The wind starts to roar. Chunks of buildings tear free. Glass explodes, caught up in the storm. Dead trees are ripped from the ground. Pieces of that shattered spaceship stop falling, caught up in the power of the wind. "Do not tell me you do not care for the future when you can't see the present in front of you." And then comes the whirlwind. It is a Biblical catastrophe, a mythological catastrophe. It picks up whole buildings amidst the storming rain, lit by sudden cracks of lightning that peel through the sky like angry dragons. The whirlwind descends, and then another, and then another. It is a storm of destruction that stretches as far as the eye can see. And the bowl in the hands of the King, lit with that bloody light from his tattoos, is its eye.
Vegeta	"I don't very well consider much about my opponent other than how to kill them." Vegeta answers the question without any hesitation, then laughs in that beastial manner that only a giant ape is generally capable of. "I suppose humans see value in that kind of thing. I can't very well understand why anyone would want a power outside of themselves, but perhaps this is the power of your 'culture'." he laughs, even though he isn't even mocking the man, Vegeta can barely say something nice without somehow sounding like an asshole. But he finds his body shrinking again, when the false moon is consumed into the dark sky, and he stares down at his hands in shock. "What the hell..." It's not a matter of defending, it's a matter of not even entirely understanding what the attack //is//. How does he attack, or defend? Thinking of a strategy in this moment, when the tides quite quickly turn, he has no idea what it means. He crosses his arms over his face, then just unleashes a large energy barrier as he tries to defend himself against the violent storm. But soon he finds himself swept up in it, dragged through building after building, tree after tree, then through the ground itself as the force of the wind causes rain to tear at flesh. By the time it dies down, Vegeta is laid out in the dirt and debris. Between the two of them, this small portion of the area is entirely obliterated. He just barely pushes his head out of the ground, looking around, unable to stand. Then he coughs up blood and collapses entirely, close to death. "So this is how gods fight... if I live, that won't work a second time..." he defiantly promises, coughing up more blood.
Gilgamesh	Gilgamesh walks over to Vegeta. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly, Gilgamesh is clothed in a flowing coat, pants, and a white wool sweater. The storm dies down as he does so, but the moonlight's already been devoured, dispersed into the monstrous storm above. He crouches down. He grabs Vegeta by the hair and lifts him up, his other hand going to open Vegeta's mouth. The Gate ripples. Gilgamesh pulls out a plant, pops off a berry, and just slips it into Vegeta's mouth. Then he straightens. It won't heal him, but it will put him back up on his feet. "I have more treasures than there are stars in the sky," Gilgamesh says calmly as Vegeta says 'it won't work twice'. "Stand. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You fought the impossible, despite seeing its power. You struggled until the end, and then kept on struggling." "The King appreciates that." Another snap of his fingers. Vegeta finds a set of very, very nice clothes in front of him. They're blue, but not a bodysuit - a blue jacket, a black shirt and black pants, and a necklace of silver with a crescent moon hanging off it. "There. Consider that a gift for your effort. A recognition of the Prince of All Saiyans' challenge." "It's worth a great deal of money," he adds cheerfully, "More than most people make in a year. Enjoy it." Then he stretches and produces a pair of goblets, sitting down in front of Vegeta. He sets one in front of the Saiyan and one in front of himself. The stone mixer reappears and pours them both banana daqiris. "Now. I do not want you to submit. But I do not want you to be forgotten." "A species that produced someone with the qualifications of a hero should not go quietly into this good night, and a victory over a grand and galactic monster should not disappear into the dust of history." "Have a drink. Relax. There are other pleasures besides battle, and as you can see, they do not soften edges in the slightest. I will teach you of civilization's ways, and you will be mightier for it."
Vegeta	Vegeta, with his armor likely long ruined, starts to put the newly materialized clothes on. "I don't accept pity, but fighting you taught me about what I can expect in the Multiverse, and about how much stronger I'll need to become. If I can barely defeat you, then I surely can't defeat Frieza yet. But I am definitely stronger than when I arrived, so I fele more confident than ever." He finishes putting the outfit on, and even the necklace, laughing. "Royal gifts. I'll keep these for when I'm inevitably forced to partake in 'culture'." He takes a seat across from Gilgamesh, taking the drink very carefully, then sniffs it. "My people have food, you know, and wine. My father was rather fond of both."
Gilgamesh	Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow. "I should hope you have food and drink. That would be very distressing. But that isn't what I meant, no. Comfort. Luxury. Pleasure. Money. Art. Science. Writing. All of these things are the wonders of the world, of civilization, of existence. Of culture." The banana daqiri is...not an insult. It smells like heaven. It's divine - divine bananas from a far-off land, divine alcohol from realm of divinity, all the ingredients mixed together in a perfect, swirling heaven. "I will remind you that I am not a stepping stone to your Frieza. The sooner you understand that the Multiverse is full of power, the better." Gilgamesh raises his glass to his lips. "Then you will be able to learn more than violence, and surpass your enemies in more than just strength." He leans forward. "I can tell, Vegeta. You yearn to surpass them. You yearn to put your foot upon the heads of your foes and see Frieza ground into the dirt by your might." "Now...imagine that that moment echoes through eternity. That the moment you broke your Frieza, made your own myth come true, it resounded across the universe." He purses his lips. "It excites me, to see a new hero rising, a new myth building. You excite me, Prince of All Saiyans. I have but one more question, and one more gift." He waves his hand and produces a box. It's...some kind of board game. "A game. The Royal Game of Ur. Strategy and luck, conquering others not in pure might but in thought and skill. Learn it. Enjoy it. Become skilled, and reap the rewards in battle, too." "And then, my question." "Why are you not the King of All Saiyans?"
Vegeta	Vegeta sips the liquid, but wrinkles his nose as if to feign a tsundere-like disinterest in the delicious flavor. "Killing Frieza will resound across the universe no matter what. The mere thought of killing Frieza, no one would be foolish enough to have it. Even I wasn't so foolish recently. But now I understand far more than I did before. "But your insistence on more than fighting, more than the glories of combat, I have no interest." Then he stares down at the box, and takes it. "I'll learn it, if only to see if there's some secret to your power in learning it." But, to the final question, he takes a long moment, staring down at the box when he answers. "My planet is long gone. I was a prince when the Saiyans were destroyed. I have no desire to be the king of nothing, but I am a prince by blood and will carry the legacy bestowed upon me by my father. I will not simply award myself the title of king."
Gilgamesh	"No great deed is remembered forever without the means to record it." That's all the King says as he stands. "It will resound once. But recording his death in song and story will humiliate him forever." He swirls the drink about in his goblet, listening with a genuine degree of sympathy. When Vegeta's finished, he says, "One day, you'll have earned it," and nothing more. He walks off. When Vegeta finishes the drink, the goblet will disappear, along with the mixer, like being awakened from a wonderful dream, left with a pleasant memory on his lips. The King waves over his shoulder as he goes, hand in his pocket, already wiping down the blood on his cheek.
Vegeta	"Hah! Do you think someone kills Frieza and the entire universe doesn't collectively know about it? If I truly cared about such a thing, it would be hardly a concern. Powerful people don't concern themselves with the desire of weaklings to remember them. If you're powerful enough, it will simply happen." Vegeta shrugs, sipping more of the drink he's pretending not to like. "One day we'll fight again." He stands, then finishes the drink entirely, dropping the glass and allowing it to vanish. "Under different circumstances, I'd vow to murder you. But if you truly are some sort of god, then I'll simply vow to keep fighting you until my fist is strong enough to rip your heart out in every future you predict." He suddenly bursts into the air, using what bit of energy he's regained to leave, already pressing the side of his cracked scouter to open communications. "I hope you prepared those armors I asked for."