“Futuropolis…?” Broly looked at his attire, it seemingly worn out, as if he been into a devastating battle, but seemingly can't recall at the moment, but glimpse of it were returning in his eyes; one particular memory was a strange man in all black clothing, urging him to attack something. “I supposed I do need a change of outfit.” He stuffed his mouth with more tacos, easily consuming them like a vacuum, to ignore that memory. “If they served more food like this, I don’t mind going.”