Gohan was reluctant to go back to sleep again. With the darkness came those dreams of his, and he wasn't looking forward to another one like Gamma's. He didn't want any more cryptic messages to plague him. He didn't want to see completely opposite perspectives of events he was sure he'd figured out already. He just really wanted to rest. These dreams- no, these thoughts and memories that have been forced into his head… The world could explode tomorrow as a consequence as long as they got the hell out of his head!

Gohan was sitting on the side of Piccolo's bed, desperately trying to keep his eyes open. How long could he last without sleep? If he recalled that one horror series correctly, at forty hours he would start to take micro-naps. At seventy, he'd fall into a coma. He then found himself weighing the two against each other; the visions or a hundred hour coma. In the end, was avoiding those dreams really worth it? It's not like Freddy Krueger was really going to show up in his dreams and say a few witty one-liners before driving those dagger-claws into him… The young Saiyan chanced a paranoid glance over his shoulder. The only thing moving in the dark room was Piccolo's chest as it rose and fell with his shallow breaths.

Convincing himself he wasn't in a horror movie, Gohan decided to give sleeping one more shot. Laying down next to the sleeping Namekian, but leaving him plenty of extra room, he could feel his eyes closing before his head ever touched the pillow. Sleep trailed only seconds behind. Sure enough, another dream followed before he could get any true rest…

When Gohan's eyes opened next, he found himself thrust into another person's body yet again. This one was still very strange to him, but he got over the awkward feeling relatively quickly. Perhaps he was getting used to this. Not that he really wanted to, but he supposed it afforded him a longer look at his surroundings before the actual 'memory' kicked in. And from the feel of it, this one was definitely a memory. An old one. Once his eyes could focus, he found himself staring straight up at a very bright light. Squinting his eyes, he tried desperately to block the light out without actually closing his eyes again. Gohan wanted to see what was going on, and apparently so did this person. The reason why became apparent when his vision finally cleared.

It turned out the light hanging above him was actually a cluster of several lights, all arranged in a honeycomb pattern. A surgical light. Ah, fuck… This was another 'Gamma' dream, wasn't it? Before Gohan could run all the possible surgeries one would perform on someone in an insane asylum through his head, an overwhelming sensation came over his body that immediately demanded his full attention. Skinny-dipping in the Arctic Ocean wasn't an extreme enough analogy to describe how absolutely freezing cold he was! He now noticed that his body had been shivering in a desperate attempt to stay warm, and that his breath could be seen as puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. Were these really proper conditions to keep in an operating room? Was this humane? For some reason, Gohan got the feeling that that was the idea…

He could feel a breeze over his entire body. Of course… Bare naked… The one hospital procedure this place would adhere to. As if answering his prayers, his arms tried to wrap themselves around his body to keep warm. They barely made it an inch off the table before stopping dead, pulling against what felt like the same restraints from his Gamma vision. Luckily, this person seemed strong enough not to snap his forearms in two with the sudden motion. This didn't seem to be Gamma, but he had the same leather restraints. Wrists, arms, chest, legs, ankles. But this time, they seemed well deserved. This person was strong.

For the next minute or so, Gohan's mind was flooded with questions, which seemed to be alternating between two different subjects. Was this a vision from someone at that asylum? What the hell did they have him strapped to, a block of fucking ice? This couldn't be the 'Epsilon' they were talking about, could it? They did mention he was strong… Couldn't they have just used a normal operating table? At least steel would have warmed up by now! God, they weren't going to do anything bad to him, were they? They certainly didn't seem to care for Epsilon enough to be concerned for him. Polished fucking marble! That's what it was! Just like the Lookout tiles! What doctor in their right mind would-?

His thoughts came to a halt when he once again heard the sound of a heavy steel door being pushed open to his left, an even colder breeze coming in with the person. He could feel his hands clench into fists as his head turned to see who'd come in. Gohan could have died of embarrassment if this had been his own body. Standing off to the side of the door was a rather attractive blond nurse. She wasn't the one who'd walked through the door, so that meant she'd been there watching him the whole time. This person's eyes didn't seem to notice her at all, however. They were far too interested in the one who'd walked in.

The doctor was average height for an adult. He had a prominent brow and a sharp, pointy nose. His hair seemed to have been meticulously combed until every strand was in the right place. All in all, he would have looked like a very respectable doctor, if not for the open bottle of wine clutched in his hand. His eyes narrowed.

"Drinking on the job? That's very unlike you…" Gohan's mind spun from just this one utterance from the person whose memory he was viewing. What was said didn't concern him. It was how. Yes, as one may have guessed, it was said very sarcastically, but it was spoken in a language Gohan was sure he'd never heard. Though, since this person obviously knew the language, it had been automatically interpreted for his brain's comprehension. It was still strange just magically understanding such an odd language…

That wasn't all. This voice… He knew this voice! Even through the thick foreign accent and the strange language, he could never mistake this deep, calm voice. It belonged to none other than Piccolo, his beloved friend. It was another of his memories. That explained why he got used to the body so quickly. But how recent was this? Focusing his attention back on the other male in the room, he caught a rather nasty glare from the man. "Watch your tongue! As rare a specimen as you are, I won't lose any sleep from terminating you right here and now!" he growled in response, quick to remind this strange creature lying on his chopping block that he was the one in control. He then shot a quick glance at his bottle before it seemed he had to make isome/i excuse for it. This man seemed to value his appearances very highly. "And here I was kind enough to want to share my New Year's drink with a filthy creature such as yourself…"

"The blizzard outside will not fool me as it would the others. I know for a fact that 1945 is still over a month away. But, I wonder… Will this place even still be here by then? Or have the Allies scared you into thinking your last drink will have to come far before New Year's Eve?" Piccolo taunted with a chuckle. Gohan was rather surprised at this. He got the strange feeling this was not normally how the two would converse. Wow, Piccolo sure had some guts talking like that in a situation like… Wait, did he say 1945? As in the last year of World War II? But that was over eight-hundred years ago according to his history teacher! Just how old was Piccolo? Suddenly, they days his class spent going over this ancient war stood clearly in his mind, several realizations coming to him at once.

Firstly, he realized that these two had been conversing in German, a language considered dead in his time. He was now almost positive where he was, provided he was correct in his next assumption…

This person… There was only one man he could be. He could think of only one person that had dissected countless innocent people on a polished marble surgical table. This had to be the infamous Nazi doctor of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp. Gohan almost couldn't believe he was staring up into the cold, merciless eyes of Josef Mengele himself. And, unfortunately, the rumors of the Nazi Captain's short temper would prove to be true…

In reaction to Piccolo's taunting remarks, Mengele hastily grabbed a scalpel from the tray next to his dissecting table, holding it upside-down tightly in his fist. He then drove the razor-sharp blade into the Namekian's upper abdomen, earning him an agonized shout of pain. This outburst on Piccolo's part seemed mostly out of surprise. This was quite a typical reaction from the doctor, after all. The Namekian then gritted his teeth, bracing himself for what he knew would come next. Mengele jerked the scalpel down, ripping through the alien's flesh until, having pulled at an odd angle, the blade came to a stop against the left side of his pelvic bone. Glaring down at the Namekian, the doctor slipped a gloved hand into the newly carved incision and firmly gripped the one side closest to him. Then, with the delicate touch of a five year old opening a Christmas present, Mengele tore the wound open wide, earning a rather nasty scream from his victim.

"I said I wanted to share a drink with you…" the Nazi hissed through gritted teeth before emptying the contents of his wine bottle into his patient's gaping wound. Gohan could feel everything as Piccolo had felt it. The alcohol burned his exposed flesh like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it almost felt like it would sear straight through his unprotected organs. He could feel the Namekian becoming lightheaded, but unfortunately for the both of them, he was no where near passing out. Piccolo seemed to have remained conscious through much worse…

His eyes wandered back up towards Mengele just in time to watch the doctor throw his empty wine bottle blindly behind him. The sound of shattering glass was followed immediately a terrified scream from the nurse. It had missed hitting her head by mere inches. The doctor kept his eyes fixed on the Namekian, not bothering to disguise the scowl on his face. "Such a greedy body you have. You've drank all my wine before I could even make a toast. That was a rather expensive brand, too. I wonder if you have the strength to make it up to me before-"

Gohan's eyes opened, bringing the dream to an abrupt end. He laid there for a moment, wondering if he'd really woken up. That didn't seem to have been the end. It was like it had cut out in the middle. Or rather, it was more like he'd been forced out before he saw- or felt- something he wasn't supposed to.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped themselves tightly around the Saiyans shoulders, causing him to jump a bit from surprise. He then felt Piccolo bury his face against the back of his neck. Gohan blushed a little, not realizing what the Namekian was doing at first. Then, he could hear him mumbling in his sleep, still in German. "N-nein…Nicht du… Gohan…" Gohan's face turned a deeper red at the mentioning of his name, though he had no idea what the rest meant.

Wait, if he was still speaking German… Did that mean he was having the same dream Gohan had? If so, it seemed he'd gotten a lot farther in it than the Saiyan had before he was kicked out. Perhaps Piccolo had sensed Gohan prying into his dream. The teen's brow furrowed. Just who was snooping around who's mind exactly?

The next morning, Gohan found himself lying alone in the bed. When he first awoke, this thought made him a bit sad. Having Piccolo's arms wrapped around him like that was comforting, and even helped to keep the dreams away. Suddenly, the Saiyan sat bolt upright, his face bright red. What the hell was he thinking? Wanting to be held in another man's arms… And his Martial Arts master of all people! Besides, as far as the law was concerned, Gohan was still only seventeen. If he counted that, then that last little thought of his broke at least three taboos that he was aware of.

Suddenly, as if fate was conspiring to fan the flames of his random, unintentional fantasy, the door just across from the Saiyan swung open. Gohan glanced up, but immediately averted his eyes downward again, his cheeks beet red. Piccolo had emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Apparently he'd just taken a shower. Understandable. His stomach had probably still been covered in dried blood from the night before.

Without saying a word, the Namekian strode past the bed towards the dressers across the room. Gohan could hear the shuffling of fabric as Piccolo got dressed. After a moment, he chanced a peek back at his mentor. Just as the Namekian pulled up his jeans, Gohan took the opportunity to scan his midsection. He was looking for a scar of some sort. No, not from what had happened last night. He was looking for the scar Mengele would have left. That stuck more prominently in his mind right now. Of course, he would find no scar, despite the horrific wound. As Piccolo pulled a white sweater over his torso, Gohan recalled that the Namekian regeneration ability made scarring virtually impossible.

After getting dressed, Piccolo made his way out of the room, acting as if he hadn't even noticed Gohan sitting there on the side of the bed. The Saiyan sulked there for a moment. Of course Piccolo knew he was there. He was ignoring him. Was he still mad about last night? Or could he just not find the words to discuss it at the moment? Gohan prayed desperately for the latter…

After his mentor left, Gohan stood up from the bed. He was planning on following after Piccolo, but a stabbing pain in his side stopped him momentarily. That damn rib of his again… Even bandaged, it didn't feel any better. Which reminded him… Piccolo must have had to change his clothes again while he slept, this time because his school uniform reeked of the garbage he'd fallen in. It looked like he'd be wearing his master's old jeans for a while longer.

Gohan eventually made his way out to the hall, looking for Piccolo to try to apologize for the night before. Stepping out into the corridor, he instinctively looked down at the floor. The glass and blood had been cleaned up, but the wood floor seemed to have been permanently stained with purple blotches. It was the same all the way down the hall until coming to a stop at the base of that constantly locked door. Today the door was shut tight. Gohan let out a nervous, shuddering sigh. Piccolo was in there. He could feel it.

Gohan stood in front of that door for a while just staring at the knob as if it was supposed to tell him what he should do. If Piccolo was as angry as he thought he was, was it really wise to intrude? It would be the equivalent of signing his death warrant in permanent marker… But he had to. He couldn't keep quiet about the visions he was having anymore, especially after what he'd seen last night. At the very least, he owed it to Piccolo to let him know what he'd seen.

Finally making up his mind, Gohan reached for the doorknob. Before he could lay a finger on it, however, the door slowly drifted open about an inch. The Saiyan hesitated, waiting to see if someone would come out. No one did. Gohan carefully pulled the door open, peeking around it's edge into the room. He caught a glimpse of Piccolo as he sat down in a metal folding chair, his back turned to the door as he went back to what he was working on. A silent invitation. Gohan supposed that was better than no invitation.

As the Saiyan made his way into the room, he got the chance to really examine it for the first time. It was set up like a small laboratory. Stainless steel tables lined the walls, several capped test tubes filled with various liquids ranging in color anywhere between a deep cobalt blue to an almost glowing bright magenta scattered here and there. Nearby were a few microscopes of various magnification. Papers were stacked everywhere in shallow piles, a thin, neat cursive filling even the margins with notes. On the walls, several copies of building schematics had been hung, one of the newest being the one for the ArmsLab Headquarters. In the corner nearest the door hung what looked like the kind of thing he'd imagine the black ops would wear; a black, form-fitting long sleeved shirt made of an odd, almost neoprene looking material, and thick, dark green pants made of that Army-issue khaki, complete with combat boots. Aside from all the little bits of equipment that went with it, there was a black gasmask. Gohan shuddered at the sight of it, remembering his claustrophobic panic from his first vision.

"Did you only come here to gawk? Or was there something you wanted to talk about?" Gohan gave a startled jump when Piccolo suddenly began speaking to him like that. He'd just thought he'd continue to ignore him. Looking over, he noticed that the Namekian had turned away from his work to stare at the boy, waiting for an explanation for his intrusion. The Saiyan ducked his head sheepishly, shuffling forward into the room. "W-well… Actually, there is…"

Piccolo folded his arms across his chest, a signal that Gohan should get to the point quickly. Gohan sighed. "I've been having some… disturbing dreams lately…" he began. Piccolo's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, with an almost Jedi-like wave of his hand, a second chair appeared next to him. The Namekian seemed interested already. Perhaps he already knew, maybe just a little bit… Gohan gladly accepted the offer to take a seat.

"Ummm… Anyway, I've been having dreams that I'm in someone else's body, watching a moment in their lives through their eyes. Most of them were innocent enough. Everyday stuff. But… There were a few that were different. Three of 'em…" Gohan paused, having second thoughts about telling even this most trusted friend of these dreams. Piccolo sat silently in front of him, waiting patiently for the boy to continue. Well, there was no backing out now…

"The first one… W-well, I think I was… It was from that time I was supposed to guard Dr. Shiroi…" he began, hesitantly at first. He wouldn't just blatantly say it was one of Piccolo's memories. He was still unsure of that. "I dreamt I was the intruder. It started when he emerged from the elevator, and everything happened just as it had before, but…"

Gohan's hands clenched into fists against his knees. It still burned him up inside just to think about. "DeLourme had killed Dr. Shiroi in this dream… He taunted the intruder, even with a gun in his face. He said something about knowing how to kill a Namekian…" Piccolo's eyes narrowed slightly at this. It obviously sounded familiar to him. "When exactly did you have this dream?" he asked. Gohan thought about it for a moment. His mind had been so hazy then…

"It was just after Slug had that bastard drug me." the Saiyan replied, rubbing a hand on the side of his neck. A habit now, whenever he spoke of that time. Piccolo nodded his head slightly. He seemed to have figured as much. "And the second?"

"The second one was a little weirder…It happened just before you… Ummm… Well, just before you came home last night…" Gohan continued, looking away a bit. He was hoping he wouldn't have had to mention that little scuffle between the two of them. "DeLourme was in this one, too. He was talking to me. Well… He was talking to the person I was in the dream. 'Gamma' was his name. He was strapped to a chair and locked in a padded room… He called DeLourme 'Delta', and he talked about two others. I think it was 'Epsilon' and 'Omega'…"

"All letters in the Greek alphabet…" Piccolo thought aloud, obviously familiar with the names. Gohan nodded. "DeLourme also talked about mass-producing Epsilon, and how Slug was planning on using them as human shields." Ah, yet another touchy subject for the Saiyan. The nerve of Slug, treating another living being like a disposable tool…

Piccolo straightened up a bit in his chair, now genuinely interested in this dream. "Then, it sounds like he's using the Greek letters to categorize these people, though I somehow doubt they're exactly human. Others using that kind of system usually put the Epsilons at the bottom…" he replied with a nod of his head.

"There's one more thing…" Gohan added, sort of interrupting Piccolo's thought. He felt this last bit of information warranted it, though. "At the end of my dream, after DeLourme left, Gamma said something. It was strange… It felt like he was speaking directly into my mind. He even said my name!" the Saiyan shouted, looking to his mentor with pleading eyes. Eyes that begged the Namekian to tell him how this Gamma person knew him, and how he could speak to him through his dreams. Piccolo stared at Gohan for a moment before asking the obvious question. "What did he say to you?"

"Well, he told me to wake up and that someone needed my help. That was right before…" Gohan trailed off there. Again, he really didn't want to discuss last night, though he wanted desperately to find a way to apologize for it. Piccolo really didn't seem to care. "So, a warning from one of Slug's own men came to you in a dream, asking you to help ime/i…" The interpretation was easy enough after the fact. Gohan had even gathered that much by now, despite being so frustrated before with the seemingly cryptic message.

Then came the question Gohan was dreading, but knew he couldn't avoid. No, there was no way Piccolo wouldn't ask. The other two dreams had each given him clues, so why wouldn't he ask? "And… The third?" There was some hesitation in the Namekian's voice, as if he were dreading the question as much as the Saiyan in front of him had. He had a good idea what it might me. Gohan looked away.

"The third… I was… Well, there was… This doctor…" Gohan mumbled out in broken sentences, his arms unconsciously wrapping themselves around his abdomen. He could almost still feel the sting from the alcohol in that ghastly wound, that demonic doctor's gloved hand ripping apart his flesh… What's worse was he knew Piccolo had felt the same thing, and worse. "I-I think I was in…"

"It's alright, Gohan." the Namekian interrupted suddenly. Gohan looked up again, confused, but somewhat glad he was cut off. Retelling that story, especially since it was Piccolo… He just couldn't do it. Apparently Piccolo could see that. "I'm pretty sure I know that one quite well…"

On that note, the Namekian turned back towards the table in front of him, tapping a key on the laptop lying open in front of him. Once the screen came to life, he began digging through files, looking for something, but speaking as he did. "I don't suppose you noticed who the doctor was? I know his name is still brought up now and then, even after all this time…"

Gohan gave a small nod. "That was Josef Mengele… Right?" he asked hesitantly. Piccolo replied with a nod as well. "That's right. I'm somewhat impressed you got that. I don't remember ever saying his name then." "Well, the marble operating table kind of gave it away…" "Yes, I suppose it would have. It's a shame the Nazi's took it when they abandoned Auschwitz. I'd have liked to grind that damn marble slab to dust personally…"

By that time, it seemed Piccolo had found what he was looking for. He opened a folder containing scans of very old black and white photos. All of them were of corpses. Mug shots of the dead. It looked like a coroner's file. As if that wasn't disturbing enough, all of them looked strange, and in the same way. Most of them were women, their hair fallen out, their faces looking oddly pale except for the dark circles around their eyes. They were thin. Emaciated. Nothing but skin and bones. Most of them were bleeding from the ears and nose. Gohan had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting.

"I'll get straight to the point simply because I don't like to look at these either. These pictures were taken by agents sent by the Allied Forces to gather information on what was going on in the Nazi's concentration camps. These in particular came from the women's camp in Birkenau. Mengele was head physician there towards the end of the war." Piccolo explained, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair a bit.

"Mengele conducted most of his experiments on the prisoners there. Few of them began with true medical knowledge in mind, and none of them ended with any gained. One of the procedures he liked to perform was a complete blood transfusion between two people, usually of different genders, to see what would happen. Normally, it resulted in nothing life threatening. Just a bit of discomfort and a headache. But these women, I believe there were eight in total… They had their blood switched with mine. They all died within an hour or two."

Gohan's eyes widened. Piccolo's blood had killed these women? Sure, he was an alien, but…"W-why did it kill them? And why so fast?" he asked, though he was fairly certain he didn't want to know the answer. Piccolo shook his head a bit. "I'm not entirely sure… It could be one of a few chemicals in my blood that, as of yet, have no names. Most of these women died of brain hemorrhages, and since Mengele wasn't very interested in the brain, the exact cause of their deaths remained largely unexplored…"

Gohan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Such horrors, and performed so uncaringly… Could a human being really be responsible for this? Suddenly, a question popped in the Saiyan's mind. One he really should have asked earlier. Perhaps it would have spared him this gruesome tale of human experimentation. "Piccolo… If these were taken by agents more than eight hundred years ago… Then how could you have gotten them?"

There was a long silence in which neither of them moved. Piccolo stared straight ahead at his computer screen, deep in thought. Finally, he closed the window the pictures were in before speaking up. "They were sent to me just two weeks ago… By Slug…"

Gohan let out a small gasp. "Slug sent you these? B-but why? And how the hell did he get these?" he asked, raising his voice a little louder than he'd intended. Piccolo let out a sigh. "How he got his hands on them still baffles even me, but… He loves doing this… Before he makes a move, he'll leave me a hint. Some clue as to what he's planning. The problem is there are usually too many things it could mean. But now that I see the results… I'm kicking myself in the ass for not figuring it out sooner!"

Suddenly, the Namekian turned to look at Gohan again, looking as though he'd just seen a ghost. The Saiyan grew instantly nervous. "R-results? What do you mean? Is it about what happened last night?" he asked, scooting as far backward in his chair as he could. He didn't like that look in his eyes…

"Gohan… I didn't show you those pictures for no reason… Slug's doing the same thing Mengele had done to these women. Only now he's refined it somehow. I think he's found a way to infuse a Namekian's natural abilities into another organism using the chemicals in our blood. It's definitely something he'd try to do…" he explained, an almost horrified look coming over his face as he delved deeper and deeper into this new realization. "'Delta', 'Gamma', 'Epsilon', 'Omega'… They're not names, they're iproject titles/i. All different versions of one massive experiment…"

Gohan had stood up by now, keeping his eye on the door. He didn't like the way his old teacher was talking. It all sounded too horrible to comprehend. But, at the same time, it all made sense. He felt like, in a way, this was what Gamma was trying to tell him. He almost knew what was coming next, but he didn't want to hear it. Piccolo stood up as well, probably to prevent the boy from running. "You've had two visions pulled directly from my mind when in direct contact with me, at times when my guard was down. The other was sent to you by someone who knew you had the capability to receive it. Telepathy, especially of that level, isn't something one gains overnight. I'm sure you know that…"

Gohan stared at the ground. Of course he knew that… He just didn't want it to be true! He didn't want to see into other people's minds! He didn't want these horrible, exhausting dreams anymore! But, alas, even he could not deny it anymore. "P-Piccolo-san… I-I'm the Omega Project they were talking about… Aren't I?"

Piccolo let out a sigh, folding his arms across his chest again. "I'm afraid that's what it looks like… He's been planning your involvement in this a lot longer, and a lot deeper, than I had first imagined…"

With that information solidly laid into his mind, Gohan collapsed back into his chair, his arms falling limp beside him. He was still perfectly conscious, of course. He'd just fallen in shock. He was being used as a fucking science experiment! They'd altered his God damned brain for crying out loud! What was he supposed to do now?

In an attempt to ease Gohan's troubled thoughts, Piccolo laid a hand on the Saiyan's shoulders. The teen looked up at his teacher, too stunned, too overwhelmed, and far too angry to cry. The Namekian's obsidian eyes stared for a long time into those of his student, wanting nothing more than to take all his pain away. "Gohan…This is all my fault… If he hadn't seen how much I care for you, perhaps he wouldn't have targeted you. I promise, even if it kills me… I'll find a way to fix the damage he's done to you."

After that declaration, Piccolo attempted to leave for the door. Before he could remove his hand from the Saiyan's shoulder, however, he felt a hand wrap firmly around his wrist. Looking back, he caught sight of the determined look on Gohan's face as he pulled the Namekian back towards him. "And I promise, even if it kills me, you're not going to die trying to save my sorry ass. If you go back to fight him again, it'll have to be with me at your side."

Piccolo stared at Gohan for a long moment, unable to think of something to say. Then, he looked away, his eyes scanning the room. Suddenly, he twisted his wrist, breaking free from Gohan's grip, and casually walked towards the door. The Saiyan immediately stood up. There was no way he could take 'No' for an answer on this! He opened his mouth to argue his mentor's decision, but was cut off when a set of clothes was tossed at him. He reacted instinctively to catch them before looking down to see exactly what he'd caught. It was that outfit that was hanging on the wall.

"Well? Hurry up and put it on. You don't expect me to take you anywhere looking like that, do you?" Piccolo asked as he leaned his back against the door, folding his arms across his chest again. Gohan stared for a moment, confused. "So… Just like that? You're not gonna argue or anything?" the Saiyan asked hesitantly. That wasn't like him, just letting his student get involved just like that. He was normally the most stubborn man on earth, especially when it came to protecting Gohan. Piccolo let out a sigh.

"The way I see it, I no longer have the right to deny your involvement in this. Slug has begun targeting you personally. He's already started trying to alter you. You have a legitimate reason to want revenge on him. It would be hypocritical of me to say you aren't allowed." the Namekian replied with a small smirk on his face. Gohan couldn't help but smile. This was why he really looked up to his master. "Thanks, Piccolo-san!"