The dim glow of holographic screens illuminated the chamber as Grand Admiral Thrawn studied the intelligence reports before him. Lines of data scrolled across the monitors, displaying the last known locations of the Dragon Balls. The Empire had secured four so far, but the remaining three continued to elude them. It was a puzzle, one that intrigued Thrawn.
His red eyes flicked across maps, old historical texts, and decoded transmissions. One Dragon Ball was rumored to be in the hands of an anonymous buyer, while the other two remained unaccounted for. But Thrawn was confident that no secret in the galaxy could remain hidden from him forever.
Just as he was piecing together a theory on the whereabouts of the next Dragon Ball, the sound of heavy, mechanical breathing filled the chamber.
Thrawn turned his head slightly, his expression betraying a hint of surprise as Darth Vader entered the room.
Unexpected.
Vader's imposing presence carried a weight unlike any other in the Empire. His mere existence was enough to send shivers down the spines of the bravest officers. But Thrawn was not like most officers. He had seen the Sith Lord's brutality in battle. He had studied his tactical mind and unwavering discipline. But he also recognized the flaw—Vader's temper, his emotional instability, the barely restrained rage that made him powerful yet reckless.
"I was not expecting your presence, Lord Vader," Thrawn said smoothly, standing up straight and folding his hands behind his back.
"I am here on the Emperor's orders," Vader responded, his voice a deep mechanical rumble. He wishes me to oversee your progress in locating the remaining Dragon Balls and assess any potential threats from outside our galaxy."
Cooler.
Even the name caused a faint shift in Vader's stance. Thrawn, ever perceptive, did not miss it.
Vader had witnessed firsthand what an outsider like Cooler could do—a being whose power dwarfed even the strongest Sith Lords. Vader had no illusions about his own strength—he knew that, as he was now, he could not have defeated the tyrant. Cooler's raw might have forced the Empire to stand by and watch rather than engage directly.
Vader hated that feeling of powerlessness.
Thrawn did not comment on the subtle tension in Vader's posture, instead offering a small nod. "The threat of beings like Cooler should not be underestimated. But I am curious, Lord Vader… do you believe there are others like him still undiscovered?"
Vader did not answer immediately.
Instead, he turned away from Thrawn, his long black cape flowing behind him as he strode toward the exit. "Continue your search, Admiral. The Emperor does not tolerate delays."
Thrawn watched as Vader disappeared through the automated doors. A lesser officer might have taken Vader's cold dismissal as hostility, but Thrawn was no fool. He knew Vader was changing his mind and working through a conflict of his own.
Walking down the sterile corridors of the Star Destroyer, Vader's thoughts drifted.
Cooler was gone, but that did not mean another threat would not arise. Worse, the Dragon Balls themselves were too dangerous a power to leave in the hands of Palpatine alone. If they truly granted wishes, as the reports suggested, then they were the key to ultimate power.
A power that could change everything.
For years, Vader had served Palpatine. He had been bound by duty, by pain, by the shackles of the Dark Side. But he had also harbored resentment. The power of the Sith had limits, despite what his master claimed. And now, for the first time in decades, Vader wondered if there was something beyond the Dark Side.
A power that could grant any wish.
His steps slowed.
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
The Dragon Balls… if they can do what is claimed… then it is possible.
It was a thought he had buried for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to even hope.
Padmé.
Her name echoed in his mind like a whisper from a dream. The love he had lost. The one thing he had never truly let go of, no matter how much Palpatine had twisted his mind.
Could she be restored?
His breathing deepened as his mechanical fists clenched. No. He wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
If he were to challenge Palpatine, if he were to seize control of the Dragon Balls for himself, he would need more power. More than what the Dark Side had given him. More than what his master had allowed him to access.
Vader stood at a crossroads.
One path led to continued servitude under the Emperor, fulfilling orders without question. The other… was uncertain, but it offered something he had long since abandoned—the chance to take back what was stolen from him.
But to walk that path, he would have to become stronger.
Much stronger.
As the Star Destroyer drifted through the void of space, Darth Vader stared into the blackness beyond the viewport. The stars held no answers, but they did not need to.
If that warrior could ascend beyond their limits to defeat Cooler… then so could he.
And when the time was right, he would no longer serve.
The low hum of Vader's mechanical breathing echoed through the darkened chamber of his personal quarters aboard the Executor, his Star Destroyer. His gloved fingers flicked across the terminal before him, combing through the endless streams of Imperial reports, battle logs, and classified intelligence.
At first, it was routine—a simple review of the Empire's latest military operations. He scanned over minor uprisings, insignificant skirmishes, and logistical updates. But then, a particular report caught his eye.
Tatooine.
Again.
It had been the site of Cooler's last stand before his supposed death, but now there was another battle. One that had taken place just recently. Vader narrowed his eyes, a deep sense of intrigue washing over him as he delved into the details.
The battle centered on a stolen Imperial shuttle, which a mysterious youth with purple hair and a sword had taken to Coruscant.
That detail alone was enough to warrant Vader's interest.
But what he saw next truly caught him off guard.
Mecha-Cooler.
His red-tinted vision narrowed as his fingers clenched. The report described the cybernetic reconstruction of Cooler's body, enhanced by the Empire's finest engineers and directed by a scientist named Ka'Ruth. The goal was simple: turn Cooler into a living weapon—a tool of absolute destruction, stripped of will, bound only to the Empire's command.
And yet, Palpatine had not informed him of this.
Vader's mind burned with rage.
The Emperor had kept secrets from him before, but this was different. Palpatine was planning something.
Something that Vader was not a part of.
He clenched his fist, his breathing deepening. The idea that Palpatine had sought to replace him had always lingered in the back of his mind. The Emperor had no need for loyalty—only power.
Had Palpatine already found a new enforcer?
Vader's hand hovered over the display as he scanned further. The footage was grainy but clear enough. He saw the golden-haired warrior—the same one who had killed Cooler—fighting Mecha-Cooler.
Only… it wasn't Bardock.
This was someone else.
A younger warrior.
This mystery fighter was unlike anything Vader had seen before. The way he moved, the sheer power radiating from him—it was clear he was something more than just another warrior.
And most importantly, he defeated Mecha-Cooler.
Vader continued to scan the report. There was footage of the battle, but then… the file abruptly ended.
Vader tapped the console with his mechanical fingers, attempting to dig deeper. But as he tried to access more details about Mecha-Cooler's creation, he encountered an access restriction.
A classified file.
Restricted access—Imperial Authorization Level: Emperor Only.
Vader's hand tightened into a fist. His rank granted him the highest level of clearance in the Empire—aside from Palpatine himself. There were very few things he was locked out of.
And yet, this was one of them.
Palpatine was not unfamiliar with secrecy, but this was something more—it was deliberate.
Vader turned from the terminal, his cape flowing behind him as he strode across the room.
He needed to know the truth.
If Palpatine was truly replacing him, if the Emperor was creating new weapons of war behind his back, then Vader had only one course of action.
He would find the truth himself.
And if necessary…
He would ensure that no one replaced him.
The sterile glow of artificial lights flickered along the pristine steel corridors of an Imperial research facility so secret that even the Grand Moff Council was unaware of its existence. Deep within the heart of this clandestine installation, a team of Imperial scientists worked tirelessly under the guidance of Ka'Ruth, the last of the Kaminoan geneticists who had pledged his loyalty to Emperor Palpatine.
Ka'Ruth's elongated neck remained perfectly still as he observed the holographic footage before him—grainy but clear enough to reveal the complete and utter failure of Mecha-Cooler. The cybernetic reconstruction of the once-powerful tyrant had collapsed under the might of an unknown warrior, a youth with golden hair and blinding energy.
The golden-warrior.
A lesser scientist might have panicked, seeing the demise of what was supposed to be one of the Empire's greatest weapons. The room was silent as the data technicians in white Imperial lab coats exchanged nervous glances.
But Ka'Ruth was not surprised.
If anything, the Kaminoan's expression was one of satisfaction.
One of the junior scientists, Dr. Krennos, approached cautiously, adjusting the data pad in his shaking hands.
"My Lord Ka'Ruth," he started, his voice uneasy, "we've analyzed the combat footage. Mecha-Cooler's cybernetic enhancements were effective but ultimately insufficient against the sheer adaptability and strength of this... this... Super Saiyan."
Ka'Ruth folded his long fingers behind his back, his piercing eyes never leaving the frozen image of the warrior delivering the final, decisive blow to Mecha-Cooler.
"This was inevitable," Ka'Ruth replied, his voice unnervingly calm.
Krennos blinked in confusion. "Sir?"
Ka'Ruth's gaze slowly turned toward the nervous scientist.
"Mecha-Cooler was always meant to be a prototype. A stepping stone. A test. Nothing more," Ka'Ruth explained, his voice laced with calculated precision. "Now, we take what we have learned and forge something better. Something perfect."
Krennos hesitated but then gestured toward the reinforced doors at the far end of the lab.
"If you would follow me, sir, I believe you will be pleased with the results."
Ka'Ruth's elongated limbs carried him forward with a graceful, almost predatory gait. The other scientists trailed behind, excitement and apprehension in their eyes. As the doors slid open, they revealed a massive chamber lined with glowing consoles, red-illuminated control panels, and, most notably, a row of cylindrical pods embedded within the walls.
Each pod was filled with an eerie, pulsating blue light, illuminating the metallic figures within.
Ka'Ruth's lips curled into a rare expression of satisfaction.
In each pod stood a towering mechanical warrior forged entirely of Imperial-enhanced alloys. They had sleek, silver bodies with menacing red eyes, and their frames were reinforced beyond even Mecha-Cooler's cybernetic modifications. The final evolution of Cooler stood before him, no longer burdened by organic limitations.
Metal Cooler.
"We have incorporated all available data from Mecha-Cooler's failure," Krennos continued, standing beside Ka'Ruth. "This version is a complete synthetic construct, with combat algorithms and memory engrams directly taken from the original Cooler's battle history. They will anticipate tactics, analyze weaknesses, and adjust in real time. Unlike the original Cooler, who relied on raw power and arrogance, these units have no ego, hesitation, or mercy."
Ka'Ruth nodded, stepping closer to the central Metal Cooler, which stood completely activated outside its pod.
"And how many of them are operational?" Ka'Ruth asked.
Krennos hesitated for a moment before responding, "One thousand."
Ka'Ruth's already satisfied expression deepened into something darker.
"One thousand... Metal Coolers," he murmured, his fingers tapping against his palm. "Yes… this will ensure the Empire's dominance."
Ka'Ruth slowly turned, his eyes catching sight of another section of the lab, heavily secured and pulsating with a deep green glow.
He moved toward it, sensing the culmination of his true masterpiece.
Project: Cell.
The massive bacta tank loomed before him, filled with a swirling green substance, and floating within…
A small yet growing organic mass, its form shifting slightly as if it was already aware of Ka'Ruth's presence.
The lead geneticist monitoring the containment field turned and gave a respectful nod.
"My Lord Ka'Ruth," he said. "Progress is steady. With your cloning expertise and our modifications, the accelerated growth rate has exceeded expectations. Soon, this prototype specimen will reach its next evolutionary stage."
Ka'Ruth studied the growing bioweapon, his fingers tapping against the edge of the containment window.
"Excellent," Ka'Ruth whispered.
He then turned his head slightly, glancing back at the legion of Metal Coolers still housed in their stasis pods.
"Between our army of Metal Coolers and the perfect creation that will soon be born," Ka'Ruth said, his voice brimming with conviction, "the Empire will hold the power to not just dominate the galaxy—but to crush every single force that dares oppose us."
His cold, reptilian gaze shifted back to the floating organic mass, the creature that would one day be called Cell.
"This," Ka'Ruth murmured, his voice almost reverent, "will be our ultimate weapon."
The dull hum of hyperspace engines reverberated through the ship, the rhythmic thrum the only sound cutting through the tense silence inside the small medical bay. Bardock, shirtless and covered in fresh bandages, sat with his arms crossed, a deep scowl carved into his face. The wounds he had received from the mysterious masked servant were minor compared to the frustration boiling inside him.
Across from him, Ahsoka Tano pressed a small medical device to his side, her lekku twitching slightly as she focused on her work.
"You keep clenching like that," Ahsoka warned, "and you'll tear through these bandages before they even do their job."
Bardock exhaled sharply through his nose.
"Tch. Like it even matters," he grumbled. "Those bastards got away with the Dragon Balls, and we're back to square one."
Ahsoka sighed, finishing up with the bandages before stepping back and crossing her arms.
"Dwelling on it isn't going to help," she said firmly. "We regroup, reassess, and find another way. That's how this works."
Bardock grunted but didn't argue.
From across the room, Tarrin, who had been sitting back with his boots up on the ship's control panel, let out a small chuckle.
"You know," he mused, lighting up a small smoke stick, "for a guy who just fought some super-powerful mystery warrior, you're taking this loss a little too personally."
Bardock shot him a glare.
"Oh yeah?" he growled. "And if I had just let some random bastard walk off with something important, what would you do?"
Tarrin shrugged. "I dunno. Probably try to not punch my own wounds open while I sulk about it."
Ahsoka smirked slightly at that while Bardock just grumbled something under his breath.
The moment of relative calm was cut short when Tarrin's communicator suddenly buzzed to life on his belt.
Tarrin frowned, pulling the device up and glancing at the incoming frequency.
"Well, well," he muttered, "looks like an old buddy of mine checking in. He's the guy I left on Tatooine to keep tabs on the place for me. Wonder what's got him all chatty all of a sudden?"
Bardock and Ahsoka both turned their attention to him.
Tarrin flipped open the small comm device, and an older, crackly voice came through the speaker.
"Hey, you slimy bastard! You owe me for keeping an eye on things here, you know! But I figured this was worth calling you for."
Tarrin chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a saint, I get it. What's going on?"
The voice on the other end lowered as if checking his surroundings.
"A couple of days ago, this golden-haired kid showed up in town looking for someone. Then, outta nowhere, the Empire drops in with some creepy robot-cyborg thing that looked like Cooler, and you won't believe it—this kid took it down! Beat it into scrap right in the middle of Mos Eisley!"
Tarrin froze.
"…Repeat that last part?"
"I'm telling you, this kid looked like a damn supernova! His hair went gold. His eyes went all crazy bright—he just tore through that thing like it was nothing! If I hadn't seen it myself, I'd have called it Bantha crap."
Tarrin didn't respond for a few seconds, his expression shifting from casual amusement to genuine intrigue.
Then, slowly, he turned to face Bardock and Ahsoka.
"You guys," Tarrin said, a grin forming on his lips, "you're gonna want to hear this."
Bardock narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
Tarrin leaned forward, his voice deliberate.
"Someone else just went Super Saiyan."
The room fell silent.
Bardock sat up immediately, his battle-worn body tense.
Ahsoka's brows furrowed, processing the information carefully.
"What do you mean, 'someone else'?" Bardock asked, his voice gravelly and demanding.
Tarrin tossed the comm link onto the console and reclined back in his chair, rubbing his chin.
"According to my guy, some golden-haired kid showed up on Tatooine, and when the Empire sent some kind of Cooler-looking cyborg thing after him, he just wrecked it."
Bardock's fingers dug into the armrests of his chair.
"Another Saiyan?"
Ahsoka, however, had a different question.
"…Could it be Gine?" she asked, a rare hopeful tone in her voice.
Bardock shook his head.
"No way," he muttered. "She's still dead. And even if she were alive… she's not a Super Saiyan."
Ahsoka frowned.
Tarrin exhaled, tapping his fingers against the control panel.
"Well, if it's not Gine, then who the hell else has that kind of power?" he mused. "From what you've told me, you were the first to go Super Saiyan in this galaxy—so that means this kid had to come from somewhere else."
Bardock's jaw clenched. Another Saiyan… and they had that power, too?
He didn't know if he should feel relieved or threatened.
Ahsoka, however, was more focused on the Imperial involvement.
"If the Empire sent something after this kid, it means they know about the Super Saiyan now," she reasoned. "If they weren't taking you seriously before, they definitely are now."
Tarrin let out a low whistle.
"Guess that means we have this other Super Saiyan to look out for," he muttered.
Bardock gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists.
"Then we'd better find him first."
Tarrin smirked. "That's the spirit."
Ahsoka exhaled, stepping toward the cockpit controls.
"Setting course for Tatooine, then?" she asked.
Bardock nodded, his expression deadly serious.
"Yeah," he said. "It's time we figure out just who the hell this kid is."
And as the ship prepared to exit hyperspace, Bardock couldn't help but feel it—a strange, lingering sensation deep in his gut.
Something about this whole situation felt familiar.
Like the past was catching up to him.
The bright blue skies of King Kai's tiny planet stretched endlessly, untouched by time or darkness. The ever-present gravity, ten times stronger than that of Earth, was something that once would have crushed an untrained warrior. But for Gine, it felt as normal as breathing now.
She exhaled deeply, her boots digging into the grass, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her body glowed with a faint red aura, her muscles taut with power, her breath steady.
Then, with a loud shout, she vanished—reappearing on the other side of the planet in an instant, the force of her movement kicking up a violent gust of wind.
On the sidelines, King Kai, arms crossed behind his back, observed with a thoughtful nod. His stubby antennae twitched as he watched Gine push herself harder and harder.
"You know," King Kai mused, "most people struggle to even get the basics of the Kaioken right, and here you are, flipping around like it's just another day in the market."
Gine skidded to a stop, grinning slightly as she wiped the sweat off her forehead.
"Well, I did have a pretty good teacher," she said, still catching her breath.
King Kai huffed, adjusting his round sunglasses with his stubby fingers.
"Darn right, you did! But don't get cocky! Kaioken is dangerous. You overdo it, and you'll be ripping your own body apart before you even land a hit!"
Gine rolled her eyes playfully, stretching her arms.
"Yes, yes, I knooow, King Kai. You've only explained it a hundred times."
King Kai frowned, putting his hands on his hips.
"Well, excuse me for not wanting you to explode into a million pieces!"
From nearby, Bubbles, the ever-loyal monkey companion, clapped his hands together enthusiastically. Gregory, the floating grasshopper, simply sighed and shook his tiny head.
But Gine wasn't done yet.
She took another deep breath, and her aura shifted from the red flames of Kaioken to something pure and white.
King Kai perked up instantly.
"Ah—wait, wait! You're seriously going for it again?"
Gine raised her hands toward the sky, energy beginning to swirl around her like a storm.
"Of course I am! If Bardock and the others are going to wish me back, I have to be ready!"
She concentrated, her fingers spreading wide, drawing energy from all around her. King Kai could feel it—the Spirit Bomb was forming faster and cleaner than before.
King Kai shook his head in disbelief.
"Yeesh, first you master Kaioken faster than anyone I've ever trained, and now you're pulling off a Spirit Bomb like it's child's play."
Gine grinned, still focused on gathering energy.
"What can I say? When you have kids to protect, you tend to pick things up fast."
King Kai sighed, rubbing his temples.
"You really are full of surprises, Gine."
With a final yell, Gine threw the Spirit Bomb into the sky, watching as it shot out past the clouds, disappearing into the endless expanse of the Otherworld.
She landed lightly on her feet, letting out an exhilarated breath, a bright smile on her face.
King Kai smirked.
"Well, I gotta say… if you keep this up, you might just be able to handle whatever's coming."
Gine's expression faltered slightly at that, and she looked off toward the horizon.
"…I hope so," she murmured.
Because deep down, she knew—something was coming.
And all she could do was keep training… until the day Bardock and the others brought her back.
The dim lights inside the stolen Imperial shuttle flickered slightly, casting long shadows against the bulkheads. The ship, still grounded on the sands of Tatooine, had seen better days, but at least it provided shelter from the relentless heat outside.
Trunks sat stiffly on one of the metal benches in the ship's cramped med-bay, his jacket tossed aside, revealing his bruised arms and shoulders. His normally pristine jacket was torn and frayed, the aftermath of his brutal battle with Mecha-Cooler.
Across from him, Reya stood with her arms crossed, shaking her head playfully as she pulled out a small medkit.
"Well," she started, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "you really got yourself banged up, huh?"
Trunks let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his head.
"I've been through worse," he muttered.
Reya rolled her eyes before taking a wet cloth and pressing it firmly against one of his cuts.
"Yeah, yeah, big tough warrior guy, got it," she said, smirking as Trunks winced.
For a second, the moment was quiet, with the only sounds being the low hum of the ship's systems and the occasional hiss of the bacta spray as Reya treated his injuries.
Then, suddenly—
"You got so mad back there when I was in danger," Reya said out of nowhere, her voice teasing, her golden eyes twinkling with amusement.
Trunks nearly choked on air.
"What?!" he blurted out, his face heating up instantly.
Reya leaned in slightly, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh, don't play dumb. I saw you! You were fuming the second that thing even looked at me! You lost it when I got caught in the crossfire."
Trunks turned his head away, trying desperately to hide his rapidly growing blush.
"I-I was just… You were in danger! I mean, of course, I was going to be mad!"
Reya chuckled.
"Uh-huh, sure. Because if I remember correctly, you screamed 'leave her alone!' like it was some dramatic moment out of a holodrama."
Trunks' ears turned red.
"I-I… That's not… I was just—"
Reya grinned.
"You're so easy to mess with," she said, gently poking his forehead with her finger.
Trunks just groaned, covering his face with one hand.
Reya shook her head, clearly enjoying herself, before returning to treating his wounds. She was surprisingly gentle, carefully dabbing bacta gel over a nasty cut on his shoulder.
Then, just when Trunks thought she was done messing with him, she did something that completely short-circuited his brain.
She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
Trunks froze.
His mind completely shut down.
His heart started hammering in his chest.
Reya pulled back, giving him a small smirk as she put away the medkit.
"There. Consider that a thank you for saving my life."
Trunks just… sat there. Completely stunned.
His mouth opened. Then closed. Then, it opened again.
Nothing. Zero thoughts. Just static.
Reya tilted her head.
"…You okay there, hero?" she teased.
Trunks snapped out of it, quickly looking away to hide his very, very red face.
"Y-YEAH! F-FINE! TOTALLY FINE!" he practically shouted, waving his hands in front of him.
Reya laughed.
"Oh man, this is way too much fun."
Trunks just buried his face in his hands, muttering under his breath.
This was going to be a long trip.
Welp, it looks like Vader isn't too happy about Palpatine keeping secrets from him—again. I mean, how many times is the Emperor going to pull this before Vader finally snaps? He's already been planning to overthrow him, adding more fuel to the fire. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Big Bad Darth Vader decides to do next.
Meanwhile, Bardock and the crew are out here playing detective, and what do they stumble upon? Another Super Saiyan?! Just when we thought Bardock was the only golden-haired warrior running around, boom—another one shows up. This just got a whole lot more interesting. Who is this guy? What's his deal? And is Bardock gonna try and fight him the second they meet? (Knowing him, probably.)
Things are heating up, folks. Can't wait to see where this all goes!