Back on Cold’s ship, the tyrannical duo was anxiously waiting for their men to report back with Gohan’s whereabouts. Kneeled before them were Yamcha and Tien, both of whom had finally regained their consciousness.
“We have yet to locate the Saiyan child.” A voice suddenly called out from the ship’s comlinks. “Neither our scouters nor spy bots have detected anything.”
Frieza sauntered around his prisoners, his hands clasped behind his back. “The offer still remains on the table. Divulge the location of that prepubescent ape and I shall spare you.”
Tien glowered at his captor with one eye shut, wincing in pain from the beating he had taken from the tyrants’ henchmen. “Y-you won’t get a word out of me you scumbag.”
The tyrant’s pupils lit up with a red glow; he widened his eyes and out came a flash of energy that incinerated the three-eyed warrior. “I’m in no mood for games human. And besides, only one prisoner is necessitated to obtain answers.”
Yamcha’s breathing became labored. His mouth gaped open while his trembling eyes focused on the spot his friend was kneeled just moments before. “T-tien...”
“Don’t let that pitiful excuse of a comrade be a role model. Frieza crossed his arms and cocked his head back. “Come clean and I might still consider sparing you.”
Yamcha gnashed his teeth, his sweat-drenched body shook harder than a devastating earthquake.
“This is your last chance Earthling.” The tyrant shook his fist inches away from his captive’s face. “Either surrender that monkey filth, or you shall meet your demise here and now!”
The former desert bandit continued quivering uncontrollably. His lips twitched as though they had a mind of their own and were trying to speak up on behalf of his conscience.
Frieza pointed his finger and fired a tiny red spark that situated itself on Yamcha’s chest. Without any hesitation, the tyrant raised his hand and telekinetically lifted the courageous human up to the ceiling of the ship where he kept him dangling. “So this is how it’ll end for you eh?”
Yamcha kicked his legs desperately, but to no avail.
“Fine so be it.” Frieza closed his hand and blew the former desert bandit to smithereens.
After the smoke that emanated from the explosion settled, the tyrant craned his neck out to Sorbet. “Gather the troops, I think it’s time we showed this miserable world the true meaning of a hostile takeover!”
Indeed, it was a dark period of chaos for Planet Earth; the Planet Trade Organization began massacring city after city, ruthlessly decimating helpless civilians. In just one day, they found their way to King Furry’s palace and confronted the king himself. Thrilled at the prospect of speaking to the planet’s ruler, both Frieza and Cold decided to make an appearance. They made their way up to the throne room where their minions had the terrified king and his servants surrounded.
Frieza ambled towards the helpless captives and eyed the king. “So you’re Earth’s ruler?”
King Furry twitched incessantly, his eyes shifting left and right. “P-please, we don’t any conflict.”
“Ha, hard to believe the Earthlings pledged their loyalties to a flea-infested scum.” Frieza shrugged his arms out. “Though I guess it’s not surprising for a species that caters to a Saiyan monkey.”
“Why are you doing this? What has this planet ever done to you?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation you canine filth. Now, either announce to your subjects that this planet belongs to me, or prepare to perish.”
King Furry shut his eyes; his fluffy whiskers quivered like a baby bird fluttering in the wind. “No, I will never surrender our world to the likes of a vile monster like you.”
Frieza pointed his finger at the king, and narrowed his eyes. “A shame really. Though even if you had complied with my request, I wouldn’t have let a mangy mutt have any involvement in the chain of command.” Without missing a beat, he fired a Death Beam through the old emperor, killing him instantly.
After taking a moment or two to revel in the delight of his own sadism, the tyrant forced the late king’s servants to set up a live broadcast. Within minutes, a group of servants scurried back into the throne room with a handful of equipment.
One of the servants nervously angled a large camera at Frieza. “Y-you’re live sir.”
Frieza glanced over at Sorbet. “Would you please do the honor of letting these pests know who their new ruler is?”
“Yes your lordship.” Sorbet stepped in front of the camera, brought a hand to his mouth, and cleared his throat. “Attention Earthlings, effective immediately, this planet belongs to Lord Frieza. Our men will be visiting each town recruiting any able-bodied man and woman for our galactic army. Any form of resistance will result in immediate death!”
Frieza’s purple lips quirked up before his menacing eyes glided over to Cold. “I’d like to express my gratitude for allowing this planet to fall under my name father.”
“Of course my son.” Cold chuckled, his usual sophisticated chuckle. “It’s only fitting that you keep the home world of that Saiyan trash. You can thank me by putting these foolish humans to good use.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile on Planet Namek, the Z-Fighters shared the catastrophe at hand with Elder Moori and Dende. After expressing their condolences the Namekians were more than happy to provide the heroes with a place to stay. As time progressed, everyone grew quite accustomed to their temporary home.
Piccolo and Gohan commenced with their training in the mountainous terrains, while Vegeta subjected himself to elevated levels of gravity in the spaceship. Krillin and Master Roshi participated in some martial arts based exercises around the capsule house that served as the team’s home.
Despite letting Gohan continue his training, Chi Chi was still very adamant about getting him back home at certain times to complete his studies. The Ox-King spent a good portion of his days helping the villagers carry out their day to day duties on the field as a gesture of appreciation.
Bulma was burdened with the chore of making sure Vegeta kept their ship intact during one of his crazy training sessions. Ironically enough, their bickering actually brought the two closer as they were often seen together by the lakeside. Of course, this usually entailed Bulma doing all the talking, with Vegeta having his back turned against her.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Back on Earth, things continued taking a turn for the worse. What remained of the planet’s military was aligned with the Planet Trade Organization, while civilians were captured, and selectively converted into soldiers. A gloomy shadow of darkness cast over the planet, as most of its inhabitants became an extension of the evil empire; those who resisted were mercilessly slaughtered as Sorbet had proclaimed.
One evening, Frieza and Cold sat around a table in King Furry’s banquet hall, enjoying a glass of wine. After weeks of searching, they finally began entertaining the notion that Gohan had fled the planet.
Cold angled his half-filled glass towards his lips and took a huge gulp. “If he hasn’t turned up by now, it’s likely he’s taken refuge elsewhere.” He pursed his wine-stained lips. “Reassembling our forces and sending them out on a galactic search may be in order.”
“Ha, cowering away will only manage to delay the inevitable.” Frieza stared down at his glass, as though he were conceitedly admiring his own reflection. “Either he’ll come dashing in with the heroics or our spy bots will stumble upon him.” He swirled the palatable red drink around a few rotations before taking a sip. “But considering who his father is, he’s destined to return.”
And so a year went by…
Frieza and his father had King Furry’s palace modified to accommodate their preferences; statues of the junior tyrant were built all over the planet. Buildings were in ruins, with the exclusion of military base-like fortresses established in nearly every city. The humans had been training with Tagoma, who was a master at teaching the fundamentals of ki manipulation to weaker species.
Resistance movements would surface on occasion, but were promptly decimated by their fellow brethren who had long pledged their loyalties to the evil tyrant.
With thousands of human soldiers working under them, the Planet Trade Organization frequently ventured out to conquer new worlds. Thanks to advanced weaponry, and a basic understanding of ki at their disposal, the Earthlings played a vital role in assisting their alien superiors in combat.
Although Frieza and Cold left Earth periodically to pay visits to their newly acquired worlds, they always found their way back. With an increasing number of planets falling victim to their reign, their army began expanding.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The past year had been a successful one for Piccolo and Gohan, for they had far surpassed previously established benchmarks. Vegeta was quite livid at his inability to keep up and as a result would often push himself to the point of no return. His daily training regimen entailed shadow sparring, strength training, and ki manipulation; all three were typically employed under four hundred times normal gravity. One fine day, his overexertion caused him to collapse face first onto the tile flooring of the gravity room.
“D-damn it all…” The Saiyan prince pushed himself up to his hands and knees. His wobbly arms barely supported his weight and his entire body was drenched in sweat. “First that Namekian and now that half-breed brat.”
He pounded both fists against the floor until his hands were smeared with blood. “I will not succumb to such humility!”
He shot up to his feet and a gust of air blew around him. “DAMN!!!” A golden aura encapsulated him as his hair turned blonde. In an instant, everything vanished and he collapsed once more.
All the lights in the gravity room suddenly flickered on as the gravity reverted back to normal.
Seconds later, Bulma darted in. “What the hell’s your problem Vegeta?!”
“Q-quickly, get me treated.” Vegeta winced. “I think I’m getting the hang of-” Before he could get another word out, his eyes rolled back and his face hit the floor.
“Look at you, all worked up again…” Bulma sighed, getting down on one knee to aid the weary prince.
She put his arm her shoulder and practically dragged him back to the Capsule House. After placing him on a bed in one of the spare rooms, she began treating his wounds.
Vegeta opened his eyes halfway, took a quick glance at Bulma, but jerked his head away before they could make eye contact.
“Why are you so worked up over this anyway?” Bulma asked. “It’s not like you have to fight alone, Goku-”
“Shut the hell up woman. You’ve got some nerve to mention that name in front of me.”
“Ugh, stop taking it so personally. It’s not like I was saying he’s better than you or anything like that.”
Vegeta studied the blue-haired girl’s face, his expression as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. It was as though he was trying to decipher what she meant.
“You’re both Saiyans.” Bulma rested her hand on the wounded warrior’s chest. “And, well…you are the prince. If anyone could reach the top and avenge your race, it’s gotta be you right?”
The enervated prince inflated his lungs full of air and slowly exhaled through his nose. For the first time in weeks, the deep vertical crevice on his brow disappeared and his face began bearing a look of tranquility; the lack of tension around his eyes almost signified the alleviating effect Bulma’s words had on his inner turmoil. He buried his cheek in his pillow and dozed off just minutes later.
The next morning instead of heading back into the ship for his usual training regimen, he flew out to a nearby cliffside and perched on the edge.
“That woman’s right.” He gritted his teeth and made a fist. “It has to be me.” He clenched his fists harder, causing veins to bulge from not just his neck but from his temples as well. “You low class scum! I’ll show you!!!”
As he shouted at the top of his lungs, a golden aura exploded around him; his body became engulfed in a dazzling white light that blanketed the entire cliff and several meters beyond. When the radiance of his power finally settled, he silently admired his new appearance.
Indeed, he had finally reclaimed his birthrights, for he too was now a Super Saiyan. From that day onward, he continued his training with a renewed sense of determination.
Another year flew by and his power continued climbing up to new heights. One afternoon, after warming up in the spaceship, he headed for the mountainous terrains where Piccolo and Gohan trained routinely. Upon arrival, he descended from the sky and planted himself a few meters from the duo. His posture was rigid and his face held an unblinking expression.
Piccolo shot Vegeta a stony-faced gaze of his own. “Didn’t expect you to show up.”
Gohan stood a few feet behind his mentor, eying the Saiyan prince.
“I think you know exactly why I’m here,” Vegeta said. “So let’s cut to the chase.”
“Ha, well I had intended on saving this for later,” Piccolo said. “But I guess now’s as good as ever.”
“Piccolo…?” Gohan inched forward, his shoulders tense and his hands slightly shaky. “You can’t…what if-“
“That’s enough Gohan.” The Namekian didn’t even bother glancing at his student. “He may give me just the challenge I’ve been looking for.”
“Hmph, speak for yourself Namekian.” Vegeta sneered, cocking his head back. “Just know that there’s a damn good chance only one of us will make it out alive.” He fixed his confidence-bearing eyes on Gohan. “And as for you brat, feel free to fight by his side if you’re that worried about his demise.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Piccolo placed one hand on his weighted cape and the other on his headgear. “Gohan’s only spectating.” He tossed his heavy garments, freeing himself from the additional resistance.
“Suit yourself.” Vegeta took a slightly crouching position, slid his left foot forward, put his left hand in front of his face as his right hand fell by his waist. His signature golden aura began circulating around his body as his hair turned blond.
Piccolo took a similar stance to Vegeta’s and enclosed himself in his usual bluish-white aura.
The two warriors stared each other down, making slight adjustment to their stances. Without any warning, Vegeta bolted at Piccolo and began unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks; each attack was executed with precision, almost in a synchronized fashion.
Piccolo stayed in defense mode until he finally retaliated by pushing Vegeta back with a kiai. He subsequently decked the Saiyan prince in the face with a bone-shattering punch that threw him into a boulder.
Vegeta took off into the air and began firing a volley of blasts, but Piccolo smacked the blue fireball-looking orbs away with minimal effort.
“Ha, let’s see if you could deflect this one.” Vegeta stuck his right palm out. “Big Bang Attack!” Out came a colossal ball of blue energy that flew towards Piccolo at an alarming rate like a comet falling from the sky. The Namekian shuddered for a moment, but soundly caught the immense orb; after struggling for a bit, he flung it up into the air.
Vegeta gawked at his opposition, still floating midair. “You surprise me Namekian.”
“You’re not too bad yourself. You sure as hell were quick to close the gap between us.”
“Well, let’s not get carried away.” Vegeta descended to the ground. “Despite how long it took me to become a Super Saiyan, ascending past it came rather naturally.”
“What?”
Vegeta shut his eyes momentarily. The corners of his left lip curved up, causing two deep parenthesis-looking lines to form around his nose. “Watch and learn.” He dropped his fists down to his waist and shouted at the top of his lungs. His muscles doubled in size, as the ground shook and a mighty whirlwind blew. The majestic golden aura that engulfed him spread like wildfire, its dazzling presence encompassed at least a mile.
“Amazing.” Piccolo swayed back before using both arms to shield himself from the debris.
Without missing a beat, Vegeta vanished and made his entrance by uppercutting Piccolo in the jaw. The Namekian stumbled several steps back and was then pummeled by a relentless combo of punches. A straight punch to the cheek finally sent him flying back into a pile of rubble.
Gohan gasped, whipping around to face the wreckage his mentor had been buried in. “Piccolo!”
“Relax boy, he’s not dead.” Vegeta snickered. “That was a mere warm up.”
Piccolo bolted out of the rocks and cracked his neck by jerking his head left and right. His bloodstained lips formed a half-smile. “Damn, looks like this’ll be one to remember after all.”
The Namekian shot down to a squatted position and his bluish-white aura made an appearance once more. Much akin to Vegeta’s display of power, the ground trembled, and a fierce gust of wind stormed through the battlefield.
The magnificent showcase of power was enough to make Vegeta flinch. His cocky grin disappeared like a light turning off at the flick of a switch.
Piccolo assumed his fighting stance. “You ready to witness my true power firsthand?” He darted towards the Saiyan prince and started things off by swinging his fist.
Vegeta crossed his arms and defended himself from the assault. He gnashed his teeth, as the mighty attack caused him to slide back a few meters.
Before Piccolo had the chance to attack a second time, Vegeta countered with a punch of his own. But the Namekian swiftly blocked it with one arm. The Saiyan prince pulled his fist back and threw another punch that connected directly with his opponent’s face.
After wincing in pain for a second or two, Piccolo retaliated by jamming his fist into Vegeta’s cheek. The two began slugging away, decking each other in the face back and forth, until the Saiyan prince put both hands out and shot Piccolo back with a blue ki blast. The attack sufficed in pinning the Namekian against the stony wall of an immense cavern.
Vegeta attempted to roundhouse kick his opponent, but Piccolo caught the attack and hurled him against the ground. The Namkeian tried punching his foe while he was still down, but the Saiyan prince sprung into the air and dropped kicked him in the head.
The two commenced in a tradeoff of blows until exhaustion took its toll; they were both severely battered with bloody faces, bruises all over, and torn garments. After huffing and puffing for a few seconds, both fighters fell forward simultaneously and face-planted on the dirt.
Gohan carried his wounded comrades back to the Capsule House, while Krillin flew off to fetch Dende.
The young Namekian immediately relieved Piccolo of his wounds but was reluctant to reciprocate the kindness on Vegeta’s behalf.
Bulma put her hands down to her hips, and shoved her face in front of Dende’s. “What do you mean you won’t heal him?!”
Piccolo approached the two. “Do it Dende. I need him around for a rematch.”
Dende complied with the request and healed Vegeta. Without as so much as a word, the Saiyan Prince stormed out of the Capsule House and headed back into the spaceship for another round of training.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As another year elapsed, Cold and Frieza’s forces grew to a monumental size. In addition to their human recruits, there were several elite mercenaries that were recruited from the sixty something planets they had colonized during the past three years.
Unbeknownst to them, however, hidden deep in the woods, there existed a cave that served as a secret lab for the sinister mastermind Dr. Gero.
One frigid afternoon, the old doctor paced back and forth in his lab weighing out his options. “We may have to activate them earlier than expected.”
Standing adjacent to him was his loyal creation Android 19; an artificial human with extra baggage.
Gero clasped his hands together, his breathing shallow. “If we don’t act soon, we’ll be ambushed without a doubt.”
Android 19 remained silent.
The doctor furrowed his brow and peered at two casket-looking metallic pods that were leaned up against the wall. “With their recent modifications, they might have what it takes to deal with that wretched tyrant.”
He picked up a small remote controller off a nearby table and plodded towards the dual pods; one had the number 17 stamped across it while the other was labeled 18.
He inched his shaky finger towards a button on pod number 17, but stopped short. After hesitating for a second or two, he grunted under his breath, and smashed the button.
The lid popped open, revealing a young man with long black hair and a scarf around his neck. The being stepped out of his pod and surveyed his surroundings. “Hello doctor.”
“Ah, Android 17.” Gero proceeded to open pod number 18.
Inside was a beautiful young woman with short blond hair; she stepped out and glanced at Gero. “Hello doctor.”
“Good to see you Android 18,” Gero said.
Android 18 brushed her hair aside and eyed 19. “I see you’ve created another android. Is he an energy absorbing model?”
“Y-yes.” Gero paused momentarily before clearing his throat. “Now, although we’ve had our differences in the past, it’s time we put that all behind us and dealt with the crisis at hand.”
“A crisis?” Android 17 raised an eyebrow and shot 18 a quick glance.
“For the past three years, the entire planet has been seized by a galactic overlord known as Frieza. I’ve kept us hidden thus far, but their army is growing. It won’t be long until we’re discovered.”
The Androids silently stared at the controller in Gero’s hand like lions eying their prey. 17 eventually spoke up. “Let me guess, you want us to stop him before he finds his way to this lab.”
“Y-yes.”
“And if we don’t comply with your wishes, do you intend on shutting us down again with that?” 17 pointed to the remote.
Gero jerked the remote out of 17’s reach. “You fools!” He trudged back a step, his eyes bouncing between 17 and 18. “We’re dealing with a sadistic mutant who could destroy the damn planet at any time!”
“That’s not our business old man.” 17 turned his shoulder to the doctor. “We’ll handle him on our own time.”
“Then perhaps this will pique your interest,” Gero said. “Goku’s friends are out in space hatching up a plan to revive him. My tracker bots have brought me a great deal of information on those foolish do-gooders.”
“Revive? So you’re telling me Goku’s been killed?”
“Yes… he was slaughtered by Frieza three years back.”
“Whoever he is, he must be one hell of a fighter.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“Look, when Goku arrives, we’ll take care of the entire ordeal.” 17 gave a quick nod to 18, who by this point had shuffled her way behind the doctor.
Without missing a beat, 18 snatched the remote out of Gero’s hand.
“No!” Gero stretched his arm out towards the female android.
“We don’t need to take orders from you.” 18 dangled the remote in front of the doctor.
Gero whipped his head around to where 19 was standing. “Stop her at once! We can’t afford t-”
Before the doctor could give another order, 17 impaled him from behind with the palm of his hand.
19 sprinted towards 18, but the female android kicked her stout counterpart onto a table full of flasks and other lab equipment without batting an eye.
17 followed up by kicking Gero’s head right off his shoulders. A grin crept up on the defiant android’s face, as he gestured his head towards the lab’s exit. “What say we jet?”
18 nodded and the two flew off.
Once the duo was out of sight, 19 dug his way out of the lab equipment he had been buried in and trudged towards what was left of his creator. “I will begin the repairs right away doctor.”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Planet Trade Organization was stumped with a mystery of their own, for there have been sudden spikes of power setting their scouters off. For the past few weeks, Sorbet had spent hours a day in his ship’s control room trying to determine the source of this mysterious power.
“Commander Sorbet!” a voice bellowed from the pint-sized commander’s scouter. “I rushed over here as soon as we got that last reading, but not a trace was left behind. To make matters worse, our men have apparently vanished…”
“Vanished you say?” Sorbet raised an eyebrow and scratched his chin.
“Yes sir, by the looks of it something or someone must have sucked them right out of their garments!”
“Send me a visual right away!” Sorbet sauntered over to a large screen, and began mashing on several buttons. He widened his eyes, once the monitor flickered on; it revealed hundreds of empty armored uniforms lying around the streets of West City. “W-what the hell? Where are our elites?”
“Well… judging by their absence, I’m assuming they too fell victim to this odd phenomenon.”
