A/N: I bet ya'll thought I forgot or cast this aside, huh? No sirs and ma'ams! Life has just been really tough lately. But now, however, I am ready to continue! So, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball Super, and Dragonball GT are all owned by FUNimation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Akira Toriyama. Please support the official release!
Chapter 21: Tuff Times
Trunks awoke to the sun shining in his eyes, causing him to groan and roll over. Even in his still sleepiness he knew that the act was futile. Once he was awake, no matter the time, he was awake for the day. Slowly he pulled the pillow, which he had placed over his head, off of him and pushed himself up. His head hurt just a little, a dull ache but nothing too serious. He supposed this was what was called a hang over, having never experienced one. It could have been worse had he continued drinking, he wagered. Looking to the alarm clock he saw that it was just after noon. That was good. He still had some time before he had to head down to the meeting with Oran. He readied himself quickly by showering with near boiling water. It stung, but it eased his headache enough that he didn't even have to think about it any more. Exiting, he dressed in a solid colored long sleeve shirt, white, and placed on a pair of black pants. With boots secured he headed out to the kitchen to see his mother at the table, 18 standing by the sink. He couldn't fight the lopsided smirk that spread to his face, though he tried to furrow his brows in an empathetic fashion. Bulma had her elbow on the table, forehead resting upon her palm. Her eyes stared into space and her free hand was wrapped around the elbow of a coffee cup.
"Hey mom. How're you feeling?"
Bulma cut her eyes to her son before she let out a small 'ugh' and closed them, clutching her forehead tighter. "Like I learned nothing from my youth." Trunks let out a chuckle. He couldn't imagine his mother as going out and partying all the time. Every time he had seen her, past or present she seemed glued to a lab. Unless she drank herself into being a genius at the keyboard. Trunks's attention was claimed by 18 as she spoke.
"I suppose you're heading out to meet that Oran fellow?"
"You heard about that? We were half the room away!"
"I'm also an android. My hearing is exceptional."
"Well I am a human and I hear you all just fine." Bulma waved at them, eyes still closed. "And please, speak in hushed whispers."
"So what do you think he wants to talk to you about?" 18 had followed Trunks out the door, looking him over cautiously.
"I dunno. He said he wanted to help in any way he could with keeping the planet safe. Maybe he has something that can help?"
"Or maybe he's going to turn you into a super hero! Costume and all!"
Trunks gave 18 an incredulous look. "Right...how do you even know what super heroes are?"
"When you're literally stuck under ground for years, you'll read anything you can get your hands on. My favorite was Spice Man."
"That sounds like a drug dealer..."
"Super Villian, actually." Trunks stared at 18 and she rolled her eyes. "Just go, already. I wanna hear all about his plans to turn you into Super Trunks! Or, Gold Gambler!"
Trunks was pushed back lightly by 18, grinning somewhat. "Super Trunks is a thing, though. I could show you some time."
"Worst. Proposition. Ever. Now, go. I'll take care of your mother while she swears to 'never drink again'."
At five minutes before three, Trunks touched down on the grounds of the estate. He saw no guards for the large compounds, though he noted a plethora of cameras mounted just on the outside alone. He supposed that if the man knew about Cell, than he took at least some measures to give himself an early warning system. He hadn't even made it to the steps before the grand wooden double doors opened revealing Oran. He had cast off his suit from last night and now wore attire similar to Trunks, a long sleeved shirt and pants.
"Welcome, Mr. Briefs! I'm glad to know that aside from strong, you are also punctual!" He gave the demi-Saiyan a large smile and Trunks found it infectious, returning the smile.
"Yeah, well, my mother is rather a stickler for time tables. So what did you want to see me about?"
"Oh, not here! Come in, come in!" He ushered Trunks inside, and the swordsman had to admit he was blown away. The place was massive, and he wondered how something this large had escaped Cell's notice for so long. It was a wooden structure with large wooden columns and a grand stair case that went two different directions after meeting a landing. Blinking at it all, Oran caught sight of the look and gave a chuckle. "I suppose that you've never seen something so big before. At least that wasn't ruins."
"Y-yeah...how did you...?"
"In due time. A drink?" He offered Trunks a drink he had prepared, and the Saiyan took it, sipping it. It tasted like some sort of herbal tea, though it was chilled and sweet. He decided that he liked the taste, and took another sip.
"Your mother is not the only technological genius. While sure, my intellect pales in comparison, I can assure you I am no slouch. But even so, there are advancements that neither one of us have dared to try, or at least that we couldn't understand."
Trunks raised a brow at the man. "You mean someone more intelligent?"
"Indeed. He created biological life. Grant it, that life was evil, but life nonetheless."
Trunks brought the glass from his lips. "Gero."
"Indeed. Though my aim isn't to emulate his playing God. My goal is to create synthetic life, or perhaps enhance the life through bioengineering. The ability to cure diseases, to make the lame walk again. To lead the world from it's terrible past into a brighter future."
Trunks narrowed his eyes, surveying the man. Sure, it seemed like a noble goal but what he was referencing...
"And to that end I would need the aid of your female friend, Ms. Lazuli I believe she called herself. Though bluntly put, an human android designated 18."
"And what exactly would you want with her?"
Oran pursed his lips, setting his glass back onto the wooden table. "I would need to see how she functions."
"No." Trunks said this on reflex. Noble goals, sure, but he wanted to create even more androids. He wanted, bluntly put as he would say, to dissect 18.
Oran closed his eyes and gave a small smile, nodding slightly. "I assumed that you would say as much, but I at least had to try. Very well, I will not keep you. Let me see you to the door."
Trunks set the glass down, though as he bent to do so the world seemed to spin and he crashed into the coffee table, collapsing half of it and hitting the floor. "The hell?"
"My, that took longer than I thought. I put enough in your drink to kill an elephant. Fascinating." Oran stood over him, though Trunks saw several. Unsure which to focus on, he tried to respond, though darkness claimed him before he could.
The first thing Trunks felt as he began to regain consciousness were many forms of pressure across his body, including his neck. They seemed to be every few inches, all the way down every limp, and even across his forehead. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw Oran standing at a large wall of consoles, and above this monitors. The monitors, he saw, were the feed for the cameras he had noticed on his way in. The world still spun, a bit, but being held still helped Trunks steady himself. He glanced down at the straps. Metal into a metal bed that was completely vertical. Really? Metal? Did the man have no idea that he could level buildings?
"I wouldn't try that, if I were you." Oran replied, his back still to Trunks. Shocked to silence, Trunks merely looked to him. How did he know...? "You've been out for a few hours now, and those straps are not just for show. They have been siphoning your energy, leeching it and storing it to your left. Oh. You can't turn your head, sorry. Any way, Mr. Briefs, it's a battery."
Trunks grit his teeth. "And why, exactly?"
"For when you become an Android, of course." Trunks raised a brow.
"Though not defective as Gero's were, mind you. You have no idea who I am, do you? None at all?"
Trunks was silent for a moment. He felt a spur of cockiness. "I really hope it isn't something cliché, like his son or something."
Oran let out a laugh. "No. Fact is, I am not even human. I am the bio engineered product of a race your forefathers destroyed. Now I do not blame you for this, I'm not so ignorant as to believe that the sins of the father pass on to the son. What I do believe, though, is that the Saiyans should have been subdued and placed into service of us, the Tuffles. Instead we tried to co-exist, and they wiped us off the map. Well, almost all of us. But how I came to be here is of no consequence. What does matter is that I am the last of my kind, and you the last of yours—and you hold the key to infinite energy. The key to a better civilization!"
"And you want to rip her open and figure it out how to get it. She's a person!"
"She's a machine! A defective one at that. But that's no matter. No doubt she has the ability to detect the life force of other people, and is in tune to yours. I've slowly been siphoning that away, lowering it. She will see that, and she will come to investigate." Oran gestured to the monitors. "Those are creations of mine, or rather, improvements from models my people used on Planet Tuffle. Able to detect the life force of those who enter their field of vision. As soon as she arrives, we will know."
Trunks raised a brow. "They detect ki?"
"In your terms, yes."
Trunks fought the grin. This guy was in for a world of hurt, because as far as he knew, 18 had no ki signature. "And what if I decide to not stick around long enough for that to happen?"
"You are bested, Saiyan, by science no less. I do not wish to harm you, only to unleash your potential, to create the first and only Saiyan in service of the Tuffles. Of course we'll have to remove some parts, but I assure you the process will be painless."
Trunks let out a small 'hmph'. "Unleash my potential? Right. Well then, I think I should just show you first hand." Trunks began a low roar and Oran merely shifted his weight. Reaching over to a surgical tray atop a cart to his right, he secured a tablet and looked it over lazily. Trunks felt the Super Saiyan strength gift his body, saw the golden hue as he ascended. It lasted for only a second before that energy too was drained from his body with such force that he let out a scream of true pain. The gold faded and he felt his long lavender bangs brush the side of his face again.
"And the more energy you produce, as your transformation allows, the more is siphoned. Fear not, you'll get it back. After all, something will have to power the new you."
The sun had already began to set and 18 cast an annoyed look out the window. Trunks had been gone quite a long time. A simple meeting certainly shouldn't have taken this long. Sighing, she turned the TV off and tossed the remote to the couch beside her. Bulma had long since retired to the seclusion of her room, drawing her dark curtains and resting in the dark. Closing her icy blue eyes she expanded her senses for Trunks's energy. It didn't take long as she felt it. Being as far away as he was she wasn't surprised it was this low, or he could have been suppressing it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt it sky rocket and than drain in a single second. Not the simple transforming and de-transforming, as she had come to know that rise and fall. This wasn't an instantaneous peak to instantaneous peak. This was a peak, which wasn't his peak, and a rapid fall. And that begged the question of why, if this man knew all that he had done, he would be transforming to show him anything.
18 huffed and stood, looking to the hallway and then the door. Something wasn't right, and that could have been a beacon of help for Trunks. Better safe than sorry, she supposed.