Note: You may have seen this story before on Webnovel. Yes, it's mine, but on a different account. I created another one and here we are again xd.
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Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga "DBZ-DBS" or the "Fallout" video game saga, and the only thing I own is this alternative/parallel story that I have written for fun.
Broly's Misadventures
Part 1: Desert
"Speaking"
"Thinking"
"KameHameHa!" Attacks / Skills / Ki / Techniques
Reading / News / Intercoms
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War... War never changes.
When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults.
When they opened, their inhabitants set out across the ruins of the old world to build new societies, establishing villages, forming tribes.
Decades later, what had been the American Southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and the rule of law. As the Republic grew, so did its needs.
Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Wasteland. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and a great wall spanning the Colorado River.
The NCR mobilized its army and sent it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition... But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged from the conquest of 86 tribes... Caesar's Legion.
Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat.
Across the river, forces gather. Campfires burn, and training drums beat.
The New Vegas Strip has remained open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of tribals and police robots.
You are a courier, hired by the Mojave Express, to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn... for the worse.
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Present Time
In the Goodsprings cemetery, a pair of green eyes slowly opened as consciousness began to gradually return... but this only brought intense pain throughout almost her entire body, the result of a beating that a certain group of cowards had given her to steal the platinum chip.
"You got what you were looking for, so pay up."
With a groan of pain, the young woman with green eyes pushed herself up from her prone position with great difficulty, as her hands were tied. Even so, she managed to get to her knees and discreetly began trying to untie her hands to have at least a fighting chance for her life against the thugs.
"What's done is done... Partner."
That voice! She knew that voice... it belonged to the damn bastard who stole the important package she urgently needed to deliver to the New Vegas Strip. She immediately stopped what she was doing and instead glared with pure hatred at the men in front of her.
"Look who's waking up over here."
The woman's gaze darkened as her semi-long blonde hair fell over her green eyes, giving her a rather terrifying look. The man who had asked the question wisely stepped back; there was a slight chance the courier would attack him with scratches or bites, as he still remembered what a damn challenge it was to catch her.
"Time to end—"
{KABOOM!}
The explosion made the guy in the checkered suit and his thugs lose their balance, nearly falling flat on their faces, but somehow they managed to stay on their feet.
Meanwhile, the green-eyed young woman took advantage of this moment to escape from these thieves, or rather, she tried, because she didn't even get to stand up when
...
..
.
{BANG!}
The blonde woman's eyes widened the instant the bullet lodged somewhere in her skull, and not even a second later, her body fell coldly to the ground, her consciousness fading back into darkness.
"It's a shame... she was a very attractive broad."
He said with a sad expression, but in reality, his thoughts were much darker and more perverse than he let on.
Obviously, the thugs cursed at what was happening, and one of them decided to let out a bit of his anger on the guy who hired them for this job.
"Damn it, Benny! Didn't you see what just happened!?"
One of the guys demanded loudly, his gaze shifting from his boss to the site of the explosion. He was clearly quite scared.
The man (40-45) known as 'Benny'. He has neatly gelled brown hair, and his eyes are dark brown. His attire consists of a black suit with a buffalo plaid jacket; he also carries a 9mm pistol named 'Maria', which has Our Lady of Guadalupe engraved on it.
The group's leader formed an annoyed grimace on his face at the hired thug's shouting; even the idea of killing him along with the other idiots seemed quite appealing, but he decided to put it aside... For now.
"Yeah, I saw it... we better get out of here before something else happens; something even weirder."
Benny said in an annoyed tone; then they turned around and left the place, leaving the 'lifeless' body of Courier Number Six behind.
Without a doubt, this explosion shook all of Goodsprings and its surroundings, alerting all its inhabitants.
Meanwhile, the green-eyed, brown-haired woman was miraculously alive... but not for much longer, as that shot was fatal. However, suddenly, the metallic silhouette of a robot quickly entered the scene to save the young woman's life.
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At the Same Time
A massive silhouette slowly emerged from a deep crater; it was very recent, as the scorched earth was an obvious indication of what had happened there.
"... AHHHH!"
A rather primal roar came from the unknown man, letting out several of his emotions: Frustration, anger, and pain from his recent defeat against an adversary.
The guy's turquoise eyes scanned his surroundings looking for the person who had blown a fist-sized hole in his abdomen. Remembering his wound caused him to let out a grunt of pain, and he quickly pressed his right hand over the spot in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"Shit!"
The unknown man grunted with a grimace, as pressing his hand to his wound only made the pain worse, coupled with the fact that his vision began to blur slightly.
The guy's bizarre golden hair flickered like a lightbulb about to burn out, trying to revert to its original color and state, which was black. Still, he managed to start walking north, as he had sensed something that slightly caught his attention.
"Finally... I'm... Free..."
The man muttered with a strange feeling of joy he had never felt in his life... until now. He took a moment to admire the cold, lonely night of this world, something he had never had the chance to do in his '30' years.
The guy's turquoise eyes and golden hair suddenly turned black when his gaze fell upon a small town, somewhat too far away to reach in his condition. This only proved how bad his body was, as he suddenly fell coldly to the ground without the strength to try and get back up.
"Ka... ka... Kakaro—"
The unknown man tried to whisper the name of someone or something, but he never finished it because his coal-dark eyes slowly closed, as the dream world claimed his consciousness.
Unbeknownst to him, a female figure along with a dog arrived just in time to help the badly wounded man bathed in his own blood.
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Three Days Later
A pair of coal-dark eyes snapped open at the annoying sound above him, but he quickly closed them again against the harsh light that blinded him for a few seconds.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, kid!"
An aged male voice exclaimed with a hint of desperation and concern.
The black-eyed man abruptly stopped his attempt to sit up from the bed he was on upon hearing that last word from the unknown person; he even temporarily ignored the intense pain from his wound.
"Kid?" He asked himself, quite confused by the way he was addressed; it had definitely caught him off guard, and instead, he focused his gaze on the old man.
The currently unknown old man was conflicted about whether he should sedate him or not, because at this rate, the stitches in his abdomen might tear open if he kept moving like that.
"You're awake, but you shouldn't be moving around like that just yet."
The old man said in a serious tone, still worried about his patient's condition.
The unknown man silently sat up on the bed, simultaneously observing the human, who was sitting in a chair two meters away.
"Well, no matter... you've been out cold a couple of days now, three to be exact. Just relax and take your time."
The old man kindly advised his patient.
The unknown guy observed the old man with a touch of curiosity. Usually, whenever anyone saw him, they always ran away like cowards, and he obviously couldn't blame them because he knew perfectly well he had been a monstrous warrior since he was a child... or so he believed, since his father always reminded him whenever he had the chance.
"Let's see... let's start with the basics. What's your name?"
The old man asked with a hint of curiosity given how silent the boy with the exotic black hair was.
The unknown man had been looking at his own body, realizing almost instantly that his white pants and red sash had disappeared, replaced by human underwear (black boxers) to cover his nakedness. But that wasn't the only thing missing; his gold necklace, earrings, boots, bracers, and his belt with blue jewels had met the same fate... On the other hand, he was also relieved and happy to have been separated from those objects that had marked him his entire life as his father's damn slave.
"Broly."
Was the sharp, but not rude, response from the man with striking black eyes, as he snapped out of his thoughts and focused his attention on the old man again.
The man known as 'Broly' has a fair complexion and is very tall (1.98m / 6'6"). His body is lean, but well-toned, with a very low body fat percentage. He has long, messy black hair with shorter bangs framing his forehead, and coal-dark eyes. His current attire is black boxers to cover his nakedness.
The elderly guy seemed confused by the name his patient gave him, as it was definitely a strange name and even sounded oriental to him.
"Broly? That's a rather... peculiar name."
The old man remarked with some discomfort under the cold stare he was receiving from the massive man due to his words.
The Legendary Super Saiyan stared at him with an emotionless expression for a full minute, but seeing that the old man had no intention of mocking his name or anything similar, he stopped looking at him with murderous intent and instead began looking around with curiosity.
"Anyway, it's a pleasure, Broly. I'm Dr. Mitchell, and you're in Goodsprings. I hope you feel comfortable in my humble home."
The old man said with a friendly smile.
The man (65-70) known as 'Dr. Mitchell' has a fair complexion and is 1.74m (5'8") tall. He is semi-bald, and due to his age, he has gray hair and a well-kept mustache. His attire consists of a cowboy outfit.
This new information apparently caught the striking black-eyed man's attention because he stopped looking at the spacious room he was in and stared fixedly at the old doctor.
"You... healed me...? Why?"
Broly asked almost in a whisper, unable to believe that a human had healed his wounds. He immediately glanced down at his abdomen, where his wound was indeed stitched shut with needle and thread.
The doctor looked back at him with a raised eyebrow at his patient's question. While they lived in a world full of misery and death, he had still taken a doctor's oath to heal and save anyone who needed it.
"Well, there's no 'why'. I'm the doctor of this little town, and my job is to patch people up when they need it, good or bad."
Dr. Mitchell replied with a shrug, though clearly very confident in his own words.
The man with spiky, messy black hair stared at him in surprise. This old man's kindness made him feel strange... Maybe he wouldn't destroy this planet, just yet.
"Anyway. I had to stitch up that nasty gash on your abdomen, and I also gave you a couple of stimpaks to stop the bleeding and ease the pain a bit."
Dr. Mitchell explained in a professional tone, under his patient's surprised gaze.
The man with coal-dark eyes now understood why the wound on his abdomen didn't hurt as much, so he appreciated the old man's gesture... Although he would never say it out loud due to his Saiyan pride.
"..."
Broly preferred to remain silent at the old man's words.
The doctor frowned at his patient's silence, but to break the awkward quiet, he decided to ask another question.
"By the way... do you mind telling me, how did you get that wound?"
Dr. Mitchell asked with a hint of curiosity, because that gash on the young man's stomach wasn't normal... it looked like it had been caused by something or someone with incredible strength.
The man with spiky, messy black hair once again lowered his gaze to his abdomen, where the wound inflicted by a certain person still lay... It would undoubtedly leave a massive scar, but the good news was that it was already closed and starting to heal rapidly.
"A fight."
Broly answered with a low growl, remembering how he lost hand-to-hand because of his opponent's speed. Though, on the other hand, this pain made him feel alive, unlike when he was under his father's control and that damn headband.
"I see..."
Dr. Mitchell muttered with his right hand on his chin. He knew there was more to it than just a 'fight', but he chose not to press the issue.
"Well, let's see if you can stand up."
He said in a professional tone, while simultaneously standing up from his own chair.
The man with coal-dark eyes got up from the bed, resting his bare feet on the warm wooden floor. When he stood at his full height, he felt a wave of dizziness followed by his vision blurring... But it only lasted a moment as he shook his head, returning to normal once again.
"Alright... do you mind walking to the end of the room? Over to the vigor tester back there."
Dr. Mitchell pointed to a specific spot in the spacious room, while having to mask his expression of awe at his patient's massive height.
The man with spiky, messy black hair focused his striking black eyes on his target; he raised his right eyebrow at the strange machine but shrugged. Humans were always building very colorful and interesting things... or so a certain person had told him, changing his mind about humans and other living beings, to some extent at least.
"Take it easy, no rush. It's not a race."
Dr. Mitchell advised with a worried expression, seeing his patient wobble slightly.
The man with coal-dark eyes walked slowly and silently toward the vigor tester. At first, he struggled to keep his balance after being out for three days without moving.
"You're doing fine so far."
Dr. Mitchell nodded, keeping a close eye on the wound on his patient's abdomen in case it unexpectedly popped open.
"Now give it a try, let's see if you've got all your faculties back."
He said, looking at the Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester.
The man with spiky, messy black hair nodded as he guided his right hand to the machine's lever, being very careful not to apply too much force and end up accidentally destroying the Vigor Tester.
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Broly's S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Strength: Error 404. (?)
Perception: 10 (Eagle with a telescope)
Endurance: Error 404. (?)
Charisma: 3 (Undertaker)
Intelligence: 4 (Thick-headed)
Agility: Error 404. (?)
Luck: 9 (21-leaf clover)
Broly's Power Levels
Broly (Severely Wounded): 50,000
Broly (Semi-healed): 50,000,000
Broly (Base State + Zenkai): 100,000,000
Broly (Super Saiyan): 5,000,000,000 (X50 Base State)
Broly (Legendary Super Saiyan): 10,000,000,000
Note: It is unknown how much Broly can increase his power with this last transformation and I only made an approximation of his power xD.
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Broly frowned, somewhat offended by the way this useless machine classified his intelligence and whatever this 'charisma' was... For a moment, he was tempted to kick it and send it flying into the sky into total oblivion, but he forced himself to hold back so as not to make a scene in front of this human who had saved him from bleeding to death.
"That's... strange. It's the first time the tester hasn't been able to read endurance and, ironically, strength."
Dr. Mitchell admitted with his arms crossed, sneaking a quick glance at his patient's muscles.
...
..
.
Why? Maybe he exceeded the poor machine's limit? Whatever it was, he'd figure it out later if he had the time.
"But, the other values are normal..."
Dr. Mitchell said thoughtfully, still trying to imagine what the problem with the vigor tester could be.
The man with spiky, messy black hair nodded slightly at the old man's words, and for a moment wondered:
Did his rival hold back on purpose to not kill him? ... Or was it just pure luck?
Either way, he would find out sooner or later when they met again for a rematch.
"Though after what you've been through, it's a miracle you're alive and walking."
Dr. Mitchell honestly observed, taking a small glance at the wound on his patient's abdomen, nodding in appreciation of his own good work.
The man with coal-dark eyes had to agree with the old man once again; the fallout from the punch that certain someone gave him could have indirectly killed him due to massive blood loss.
"Well, what really matters is that your vitals are good."
Dr. Mitchell assured him calmly. "Now follow me. Let's get you to answer a few questions."
He said in a neutral tone, and began walking toward another room in his house.
Broly, in silence (as he had been most of the time), but attentively followed the old man to another large room (the dining room), where the latter likely held consultations with his patients.
"Have a seat."
Dr. Mitchell offered kindly, pointing to the couch facing his old but comfortable red armchair.
The man with spiky, messy black hair gave a brief glance at the worn, old white square couch, but ignoring those defects, he sat down carefully on it.
"Alright. Let's begin. I'll say a word, and you say the first thing that comes to your mind."
Dr. Mitchell explained this short, simple psychological exercise.
The man with coal-dark eyes nodded without objecting, playing along with the old man for now.
"Dog."
Dr. Mitchell said the first word of the exercise.
The man with spiky, messy black hair tilted his head thoughtfully. He was sure he had heard that word somewhere... But some things were still blurry in his mind, until suddenly something clicked.
"Food."
Broly answered with a shrug, completely confident in his words.
The old man raised an eyebrow at his patient's answer but only for a second, moving on with the psychological test.
"House."
Dr. Mitchell said the second word of the exercise.
The man with coal-dark eyes had an almost instant reaction, clenching his fists tightly enough to crush steel or any other metal without a problem, as if it were a mere twig.
"Destroy."
Broly answered through gritted teeth, trying to hold back a growl of anger as he remembered that disgusting place called 'house' where he lived with his father.
The old man raised both eyebrows at his patient's answer, but again, it only lasted a second because he needed to distract his patient so he wouldn't unleash his anger on him.
"Night."
Dr. Mitchell said the third word of the exercise.
The man with spiky, messy black hair let go of his rising fury upon hearing another word from the old man.
"Sleep."
Broly responded with a calmer attitude than before, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take his stress out on someone or something later.
The old man nodded at his patient's first normal response.
"Bandit."
Dr. Mitchell said the fourth word of the exercise.
The man with coal-dark eyes didn't take long to reply to that word, even getting a sort of visual image in his mind.
"Vaporize."
Broly answered with a disturbing smile on his lips, as he associated that word with his father, Prince Vegeta, etc.
The old man blinked several times at his patient's response... But he shook his head it off a moment later, continuing with the test to analyze the results later.
"Light."
Dr. Mitchell said the fifth word of the exercise.
The man with spiky, messy hair tilted his head slightly to the side, making him look somewhat innocent.
"Heavy?"
Broly answered with a confused expression, not entirely sure of his own answer.
The old man nodded again at another normal response from his patient.
"Mother."
Dr. Mitchell said the sixth word, deciding to pay special attention to his patient's reaction on this one.
The man with coal-dark eyes froze in place upon hearing a word so special to him, carrying a meaning too vast to explain with simple words.
"...Caregiver."
Broly answered almost in a whisper, though not even he was sure of his answer because he never knew his mother; she surely died in the explosion of Planet Vegeta at the hands of Frieza.
The old man nodded once more at his patient's answer, but this time with the difference that he was deep in thought, starting to more or less understand the mind of the young man.
"Alright. Now I've got a few statements. You have to tell me if you 'agree', 'disagree', or 'have no opinion'... Understood?"
Dr. Mitchell asked professionally, while watching Broly, who still seemed affected by the previous word.
The man with spiky, messy black hair nodded slowly in affirmation.
"First one: I am not a confrontational person."
Dr. Mitchell read the first statement.
"...No opinion."
Broly answered in a strange tone of voice, looking away from the old man.
The old man was somewhat worried about the answers his patient was giving so far; it was possible he was dealing with a psychopath... or something similar. Regardless, he had to finish the psychological test without looking too suspicious.
"I don't usually ask others for help."
Dr. Mitchell said the second statement.
The man with coal-dark eyes tilted his head again, thinking for a couple of seconds.
"Agree."
Broly answered with his arms crossed, considering he had never even asked his father for anything in his life.
The old man gave a slight nod, getting at least one solid answer.
"I always try to be the center of attention."
Dr. Mitchell said the third statement.
The man with spiky, messy black hair paused again at the old man's phrase.
"No opinion."
Broly replied with a bored expression.
The old man frowned slightly but let out a sigh and continued.
"I have trouble accepting new ideas."
Dr. Mitchell said the fourth statement.
This time, instead of saying anything, the man with coal-dark eyes just shrugged because he couldn't care less about the old man's statement.
Meanwhile, the old man just shook his head at the vague answers.
"I face problems head-on."
Dr. Mitchell read the fifth statement.
The man with spiky, messy black hair thought about that phrase for a couple of seconds, relating it to his rivals.
"Agree."
Broly answered with a strange smile on his lips.
The old man nodded, jotting down his patient's answers and his own observations to analyze later.
"We're almost done here... How about you take a look at this? Tell me what you see."
Dr. Mitchell pointed to a projector behind him.
The man with coal-dark eyes focused his gaze on the inkblot or drawing behind the old man.
"A... wound?"
Broly answered with a confused expression, not entirely sure.
The old man nodded at his patient's answer.
"Right. And this one?"
Dr. Mitchell asked, pressing a button on the remote control in his left hand.
The man with spiky, messy black hair focused on the drawing again, but this time he couldn't recognize what his eyes were seeing.
"I don't know..."
Broly said with a frown; it was undoubtedly the weirdest drawing he had ever seen in his life.
The old man tried to hide a spark of interest at his patient's lack of response... or maybe he was just dodging giving an answer.
"Last one."
Dr. Mitchell pressed the button on the remote again, switching to another image.
The man with coal-dark eyes focused his gaze on the final drawing.
"A bearded old man."
Broly answered dryly, as these exercises were boring him greatly.
The old man had to hold back a laugh, as he found his patient's answer quite amusing and somewhat innocent.
"Well, I think that's it. It'll take me a bit to get you the results."
Dr. Mitchell said, looking down at the papers in his hands, skimming over his patient's answers—some of which were definitely disconcerting.
Broly nodded, but started looking around again, searching for something to catch his attention and cure his growing boredom... Unfortunately, he found nothing of interest.
"Before I give you a clean bill of health, I need to ask you one last favor."
Dr. Mitchell said loudly enough to grab the attention of his young patient, who stopped staring out a window facing the desert.
The man with spiky, messy black hair stared at him with an imaginary question mark over his head.
"I need you to fill out a form. It'll help me keep track of your medical history."
Dr. Mitchell explained seriously, adjusting his reading glasses.
"Don't worry, it's just a formality. I don't expect to find any special family background or anything like that."
He said with a reassuring smile, noticing the unfriendly glare his patient was giving him.
The man with coal-dark eyes thought over the old man's words for a moment, and seeing no harm in it, decided to accept this 'form'.
"Alright."
Broly agreed with a shrug, not caring much about a piece of paper, taking the documents and looking them over with a confused expression.
"I don't get it."
He admitted, looking up from the form, as it looked like an unknown language to his eyes.
The doctor stared at him with a slightly surprised expression, which quickly turned into one of understanding.
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One Hour Later
When Broly finished filling out the form, he handed it back to the old man who saved him from dying.
Meanwhile, Dr. Mitchell let out a very tired yet relieved sigh. His patient had asked him questions—many questions—about every single thing on the paper... For a moment he wondered if giving him the form had been a good idea, but being the good person he was, he had the patience to answer every single query.
"Great! ... We're all done. Come over here, I have to give you your things."
Dr. Mitchell said with a small smile as he got up from the armchair.
With a nod, the man with spiky, messy black hair got up from the couch and followed the old man to the entrance/exit of the house, where several things were piled up near the bottom of the door. He deduced they were his belongings because the sun's rays reflected off the metallic objects inside a large canvas bag.
"Here. Take this."
Dr. Mitchell offered with difficulty (as it was very heavy) a large gray canvas bag, which his young patient picked up effortlessly with his hands.
"That was all you had on you when they brought you here."
He said with a slight tone of surprise, watching how the young man with striking black eyes lifted the bag like it was nothing.
The Legendary Super Saiyan began checking the bag the old man gave him, and sure enough, all his belongings were inside. However, he formed an annoyed grimace when he saw his old clothing.
"And this."
Dr. Mitchell pulled out another canvas bag, lighter than the first, and handed it to his young patient, who began checking it almost instantly after dropping the other one on the wooden floor.
"It's a change of clothes. Made to measure by Trudy and Sunny Smiles."
He added in amusement, remembering the embarrassing moment those two women had to go through when measuring Broly's half-naked body.
The man with spiky, messy black hair looked up from the canvas bag of new clothes. Those two names caught his attention because of how weird and funny they sounded in his head.
"Trudy? Sunny Smiles? ... Who are they?"
Broly asked curiously, while simultaneously shooting a quick glance at a time-worn window; he felt the gaze of someone or something... But he shrugged it off, maybe it was just his imagination.
The old man's amused expression shifted to one of realization, as he had forgotten to tell him about them.
"Well, Trudy is, so to speak, the mayor of our little town, and Sunny Smiles is the sheriff or guardian of the town."
Dr. Mitchell explained thoughtfully.
"You should probably thank them, too."
He added with his arms crossed; if the boy didn't, it was possible both women would get mad at the two of them.
The man with coal-dark eyes tilted his head, thinking about those two people... But finally nodded, as it was the least he could do for these kind humans.
"You can change in that room over there."
Dr. Mitchell pointed to a specific room.
The man with spiky, messy black hair nodded and headed towards the room in silence, carrying both canvas bags in his hands to change and try on his new clothes.
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Ten Minutes Later
Broly walked out of the room dressed in the new clothes those two human women had made for him. It consisted of a white t-shirt, brown military-style cargo pants, and a pair of black boots of the same style.
"Those new duds fit you well, Broly."
Dr. Mitchell commented with his arms crossed, leaning against a nearby wall.
The man with spiky, messy black hair looked up from his new clothes and focused on the old man, who, to his confusion, gave him a strange sign... a thumbs-up. He agreed with his words, though, because the new clothes were comfortable. But it was definitely strange; he was used to having his torso bare, which in his opinion was more comfortable, plus he liked feeling the wind against his skin.
"Th-Thank you... for... healing me, old man."
Broly said with difficulty (and a little embarrassment). He had never said 'thank you' to anyone... not even to the person who took off his headband, but that was because the situation hadn't allowed it.
The old man chuckled at his young patient's difficulty saying the simple words 'thank you', but decided to say something anyway.
"I already told you, it's my job. Think nothing of it."
Dr. Mitchell said with a small smile.
The man with coal-dark eyes nodded in understanding, but suddenly something clicked in his head, and he quickly started rummaging through the heavy canvas bag.
"Take this."
Broly offered his old gold hoop earrings with his left hand to the confused-looking doctor.
The old man's eyes widened comically when he saw what his patient was offering him.
"B-But this is—"
The Legendary Super Saiyan stopped him dead in his tracks, raising his right hand to halt the old man's words, successfully silencing him.
"Consider it my way of... thanking you for healing me and saving my life."
Broly explained, a bit awkwardly, as he still hadn't gotten used to saying these things... Let alone talking so much. It felt very strange.
The old man opened his mouth to protest, but seeing his young patient's determined gaze, he let out a sigh.
"I see... Alright. I'll accept it."
Dr. Mitchell said with a small smile, extending his open right hand to receive the boy's gift.
Seeing the old man's outstretched hand, the man with spiky, messy black hair dropped his old gold hoop earrings into the open palm. Once in his possession, Dr. Mitchell began inspecting the items with awe.
"Well... now I'm going out to see what's out there."
Broly said, looking at the exit with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. He wanted to go outside and see where he was; he couldn't possibly be on the same planet as the Warriors he faced in New Vegeta... Right?
The old man stopped examining the gold earrings upon hearing his young patient's words.
"Alright, but be careful with the stitches on your abdomen... If you move too abruptly, you could rip that wound back open."
Dr. Mitchell advised seriously, slipping the gold earrings into his shirt pocket.
The man with coal-dark eyes nodded, but it was a half-promise. Like any true Saiyan, he wanted to do the exact opposite—like fighting the very first hostile person he crossed paths with.
"Once you run into Trudy and Sunny Smiles, say hello for me."
Dr. Mitchell said with amusement, noticing his young patient's curiosity as he repeated the names.
Once again, the man with spiky, messy black hair nodded, while extending his left hand toward the doorknob, bidding his final farewell to the old doctor.
When he turned the knob and opened the door, the Legendary Super Saiyan had to shield his coal-dark eyes with his right forearm to avoid being blinded by the harsh, annoying rays of the sun... Once his vision adjusted, he could see several buildings relatively nearby: a semi-destroyed schoolhouse, an abandoned gas station, a saloon in good condition, and a few other houses.
"I hate the heat..."
Broly muttered with a grimace as he watched a tumbleweed roll quickly past him, starting to growl as the sun's rays began heating up his body.
"...Damn disgusting sun."
He said through gritted teeth, trying to contain his anger, but before he could try to form an Eraser Cannon in his left hand, his ears caught a female voice.
Not too far from his position, the man with spiky, messy black hair saw a female silhouette sitting with her back to him on a rock, staring into space.
"...Who am I...?"
She asked herself, but then pulled her gaze away from the horizon as she instinctively felt someone's eyes on her back.
The coal-dark eyes of the Legendary Super Saiyan met the green eyes of the unknown woman. They stared at each other in complete silence with contrasting expressions.
Broly looked at her with a slight hint of curiosity, but it quickly faded as he looked away, his eyes catching movement in some nearby bushes.
The green-eyed woman, on the other hand, wiped her confused, depressed expression, replacing it with a surprised and interested one. She remembered seeing the massive man with the exotic, striking black hair on one of a certain doctor's beds.
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End of Part 1
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Uploaded: 03/16/26
Updated (Corrected): ?/?/?
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Omake 1
The unforgiving midday sun in the Mojave Wasteland was a divine punishment for any living being, but for Broly, it was simply an irritating nuisance. The dry, suffocating heat clung to his skin, and the white t-shirt Trudy and Sunny Smiles had gotten him already felt like a stifling prison against his hyper-developed body.
With a growl of annoyance that rumbled deep in his throat, the Legendary Super Saiyan grabbed the hem of the garment and, in one fluid motion, pulled it over his head, tossing it carelessly over an old wooden fence.
What was laid bare under the intense sunlight was an anatomical spectacle that defied all Wasteland logic. Standing at almost two meters tall, Broly's bare torso looked like it was carved from the hardest granite. He completely lacked body fat; every muscle fiber, from his massive pectorals and broad shoulders down to his perfect, chiseled eight-pack abdomen, was defined with brutal precision. His skin, beaded with sweat that highlighted every contour of his musculature even more, and totally devoid of body hair, glistened in the sun, making him look like an ancient titan brought to life. His mere presence exuded an overwhelming, primal masculinity that made any man in the area look like a malnourished child.
Seeking relief, Broly approached the old water well that supplied Goodsprings. Ignoring the rusted crank, he directly grabbed the thick rope and pulled it with a single finger. The heavy wooden bucket, brimming with fresh water, flew up in the blink of an eye. Without hesitating, the warrior lifted the bucket and poured its freezing contents over his head, letting the water run through his thick black hair, cascade down his broad neck, and slowly slide down the deep grooves of his chest and his V-shaped back.
Broly wiped a massive hand down his face to clear the excess water and let out a sigh of relief, completely oblivious to the silent commotion he had just caused all around him.
A few meters away, in the Prospector Saloon, the sharp sound of a glass shattering against the floor broke the town's calm. Trudy, who had been wiping down the bar near the front window, stood paralyzed. Her eyes were wide open, fixed on the stranger's towering, soaking wet figure. She swallowed audibly, suddenly feeling like the ceiling fan was absolutely useless and that the saloon's temperature had skyrocketed ten degrees.
Outside, Sunny Smiles had stopped dead in the middle of her patrol. Her faithful dog, Cheyenne, gave her a light nudge with her snout, seeing her owner petrified like a statue, but Sunny didn't even blink. With a trembling hand, she slowly lifted her cowboy hat to get a better view, while an intense, uncontrollable blush crept up her tanned cheeks.
"By all the saints of the Mojave..." Sunny muttered, her voice a little hoarse, starting to fan her flushed face with her free hand. "I think the radiation finally fried my brain, 'cause I just found an oasis in the desert."
Even Courier Number Six, who had just walked out of Dr. Mitchell's house still dealing with her headache, stopped dead on the porch. Her green eyes scanned Broly's colossal back, and suddenly, the trauma of being shot in the head took a very distant back seat. She unconsciously bit her lower lip, crossing her arms as she watched the man's muscles tense and relax with his heavy breathing.
In contrast, Easy Pete, who was sitting in his usual rocking chair, looked at Broly, then down at his own thin, wrinkled arms, and finally let out a long, resigned sigh of defeat.
"Yep..." the old man muttered, settling back into his chair and pulling his hat down over his eyes. "They definitely don't make 'em like they used to."
Broly, shaking the last drops of water from his arms, frowned upon noticing that the entire town had plunged into a deathly silence. He turned his head slightly and caught the intense stares of the women fixed firmly on him. He tilted his head, genuinely confused by the reaction.
"What are you all staring at?" he grumbled to himself in a gruff voice, wiping his neck with his forearm, without the faintest idea that he had just become the most desired man in all the NCR territory.
End of Omake 1