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Chapter Text

Red Ribbon Saga

July 1990

“Staff Officer Gold, tell me, what do you make of it? This is from one of Gero’s spy drones,” the short man in the chair asked, staring at the television screen with his one eye.

“I’m not sure, Commander Red,” Gold replied. 

Gold was Red’s opposite in many ways. He stood quite tall, pushing past six feet, and was completely bald in contrast to his superior’s namesake thick red hair. While Red’s skin was pale and marred by several other scars and evidence of a life spent fighting, including a patch that covered his missing eye, Gold’s skin was rich dark shade of brown, and completely without flaw, kept carefully maintained, moisturized, and pristine.

The taller man moved closer to the screen to get a better view of the image, unintentionally looming over his commander, “Was this from a few days ago, when the sky went pitch black? Just before that big explosion in space?” 

“Gold.” 

“Yes, Commander?” 

“I told you to not stand so close to me.” 

“Ah, of course,” Gold stepped back and to the side, no longer looming over his superior. Red grumbled for a moment more, before turning his attention back to the screen. Just as his second-in-command had said, it clearly was happening during those strange few minutes where, everywhere on Earth, the sky had gone pitch black. But even more strangely was the only source of light in the video. 

A massive bolt of lightning, one that reached upwards, coiled in on itself, and then transformed- into what could only be named as a dragon rising up out of a strangely-shaped fortress. 

Gold studied the image for a few more seconds, before his eyebrows went up. Red noticed, smiling, “What is it?”

“Now that the lighting’s a little better, I recognize it.That’s Doctor Sivana’s mobile research fortress. The entire thing is capsule-compatible. My father visited once.”

“The Sivana Industries Doctor Sivana?” Commander Red asked. 

“He and my father went to college together.”

“Fraternity buddies?” Red asked casually. 

“Almost,” Gold said, amused, “The hazing didn’t go well.”

Red glanced his way, “For your father, or Sivana?” 

“For the fraternity. They never found the bodies, which, of course, meant that Sivana didn’t get in trouble. My father was so impressed with his ruthlessness that he nearly proposed to the man. Lucky that things didn’t progress far in that direction, or I wouldn’t have been born.”

Commander Red went a little paler, “I see. I heard that Sivana Industries was looking into biological weapons. That dragon might even give White and Gero’s special project a run for its money.” 

“Perhaps…” Gold narrowed his eyes, watching as the dragon turned back into lightning, and seven lights were launched out of it, flying across the sky. The color of the sky returned to normal soon after. 

Gold would look into the matter soon afterwards, to see how far Doctor Sivana’s biological weapons were coming along. If it would be worth it for the Red Ribbon to try stealing his designs, or potentially recruit him. Gold personally hoped for the latter, Doctor Sivana would fit in at Red Ribbon, he thought. But once he started digging, he found very strange news indeed. 

The explosion in orbit was being blamed on Doctor Sivana- a nuclear device he had built in secret, and deployed for unknown reasons while he was staying in foreign soil, something that he had been arrested for.

The F.B.I. confiscated everything he owned. All his developing technologies, all his capsules, his company, then, all of that was handed over to Interpol and the King’s Guard when the scientist was later sentenced to life in the Crab Shell undersea prison operated by the UN. Gold thought that was unfortunate, and then moved on to other concerns. He didn’t think much about Doctor Sivana, the strange darkness, or the explosion, for a few months.

But not long after, he began hearing interesting things from home. Metropolis University had a new darling, the daughter of the capsule inventor Ray Brief, making waves with shocking experiments that proved the existence of some kind of fifth universal force. A force which made the seemingly impossible, possible. An explanation for so much Metahuman strangeness. An answer to several equations of physics that went unsolved.

She named it Magic. 

Even more interesting, part of her proof were the events of that night in Russia back in July. Finally, the world had an explanation for the dragon, for the sky, for the lights. The very specifics were kept in vague terms, her paper more focused on the readings she could detect in the area and what those readings meant for physics, but Brief outlined that what had happened there that night was magic. 

Researching dragons, seven lights, magic, and the sky going black in relation to each other eventually led Gold to a very specific legend, one tht Doctor Sivana was also apparently researching.

When he brought this up to Commander Red, a gleam suddenly appeared in the man’s eye.

Gold smiled wide in excitement, “If a genius like Doctor Sivana thought it was legitimate, and if Brief’s claim that magic truly exists and was used there is correct… This could be big. The legend I found says that after a year, these so-called Dragon Balls become active again, and that when brought together they can grant any one wish.”

“ Any wish, you say?” Commander Red asked, his voice full of hunger.

“Imagine what it could do for the Red Ribbon army,” Gold said, “World domination within our lifetimes, just like you envisioned, Commander,” he said, his voice full of ambition.

“I want everything Interpol took from Doctor Sivana,” Commander Red ordered with a wide grin, “Whatever it is that the Doctor used to find these Dragon Balls, I want it mounted in my office!” 

“Yes sir, Commander.” 

“All hail Red Ribbon!” Declared Commander Red. 

“All hail Red Ribbon,” repeated Gold.

Chapter Text

|R><R| Saga Act 1: SILVER’S CYCLONE

June 1991

“It's all so simple, really…” the old man muttered, tracing his finger along the padding on the wall. The designs there matched some he had glimpsed in the book before its destruction. “Merely a matter of translating the deeper power of the universe, the power beyond physics into something I can understand.” 

He finished writing, and cradled his bloodied fingers. Not much else to write with, after all. Locked in this padded cell with nothing to call his own. Not even his glasses. 

Nothing but his body, and his mind. 

And something else ’s mind. 

He paused as his head tilted. The small green worm hanging onto his earlobe watched his work, and then leaned in to speak directly into his ear canal in the smallest of high-pitched voices, “Perfection,” it whispered to him, “Perfection, Doctor Sivana. I am not surprised in the least to have you come this far this quickly.” 

“Oh, you charmer you, Mister Mind,” Doctor Sivana said with a grin and a small blush, waving off the accomplishment, “It’s just what any super-genius could do with the knowledge you’ve been offering. That wish wasn’t a waste at all, was it?” he said fondly. 

About a year ago he had done the impossible; gather together the Dragon Balls, despite the interference of those meddling brats, and make a wish. He obtained a copy of the Book of Eternity- one that had slowly been eaten away by a bookworm, who in the process had absorbed its vast quantities of near-infinite knowledge. The book had been destroyed by the actions of said meddling brats and the carelessness of his own battle-robot, but the bookworm had survived, and had stayed close to Doctor Sivana in the time since. 

Learning that the bookworm had hitched a ride to the maximum security prison, the Crab Shell, on Doctor Sivana’s own body came as a surprise. For the first few days of his imprisonment in isolation, Sivana was glad to have the worm there as a pet. But what came as an even larger surprise was the fact that the worm was intelligent, able to understand his commands. Once the worm managed to get this close to his ear, he could even hear the tiny being’s tiny voice, and hear its name: Mister Mind. 

It was then that their work together truly began.

The bookworm spoke to him of magic. Words and symbols that seemed nonsensical at first, but which when brought together with intent acted as levers to access the power and rules that existed beyond the physical universe and the physical laws; the sphere of the Gods . 

In this case…

Jt/Jx (a-l)^2 times the square root of t+x

The equation sitting in the center of the pattern of blood-drawn circles meant nothing on its own. But with knowledge of the true meaning of each variable? But with the syllables that Mister Mind was speaking into his ear, which Doctor Sivana mimicked, one after the other? But with the intent to do the impossible, see the invisible, touch the untouchable, break the unbreakable? 

Then it meant something . 

The writing on the wall wasn’t made of blood anymore. The true lines and symbols appeared, made into light, rising up and away from the crude representation Doctor Sivana had drawn onto the wall. The circles and symbols rotated and swirled in front of him, spinning and spinning, faster and faster until it was a circle of pure light.

The electric lights on the ceiling high above him began to flicker and pulse. Something began to prickle at the back of Doctor Sivana’s neck, his body sensing that something in the universe had changed. A weight that normal physics couldn’t account for. 

“Well, Doctor Sivana?” Mister Mind whispered into his ear, “You’ve opened the door, you brilliant man. Now step through it.” 

“Mister Mind?” Doctor Sivana said. 

“Yes, Doctor Sivana?” 

“My friend, please call me Thaddeus.” 

“...Then you may call me the Mind of Piccolo.” 

“Piccolo for short?” 

“If you wish, although I’m not sure about ‘for short.’ It has the same number of syllables as Mister Mind. You may call me what you’d like, Thaddeus.” 

“Piccolo it is, then.” Doctor Sivana grinned wide, and without even the tiniest scrap of fear, stepped into the maelstrom of light-

-and stepped out somewhere else. Specifically, on the other side of the wall he had just been facing. 

He strolled down the hallway, heading towards the sound of other people. A guard turned a corner and stared at him in surprise, “What the…” his hand closed around his club, and Doctor Sivana watched with interest as the weapon crackled with electricity. This was the Crab Shell, after all, a prison for only the worst criminals and the most physically dangerous. The only way a regular guard was going to be able to deal with Metahuman prisoners was with overwhelming technological advantage. He approved. 

Of course, he now had access to magic, and thus he possessed the overwhelming technological advantage.

“Piccolo?” 

“Of course, Thaddeus. Now… think of restraint . Of capture. Of harnessing. Aim, and then repeat after me,” the bookworm spoke, gleeful, “Pa-pa-ra-pa-pa!” 

Doctor Sivana opened his mouth, “ Paparapapa !” he invoked, holding out one hand towards the guard. Green slime manifested from the air and was flung across the distance between them. The guard shouted as it splashed across his armor. 

“You’re going to regret that, you ugly old freak!” the guard growled, moving to charge towards him, raising up the club- and then screaming as the slime electrified, holding him in place exactly where he stood, unable to move in the slightest. 

“Oh, how delightful! Thank you, Piccolo. How long does it last?” 

“It lasts as long as you wish it. My pleasure, Thaddeus, masterfully done on the very first try, you prodigy.” 

Doctor Sivana blushed slightly at the praise, before walking closer to the guard, and pulled away his weapon. Without thinking about it much, Doctor Sivana switched it off and then began to disassemble it, reconstructing the super-stun baton into a crude gun capable of firing short bursts of lightning. With his figure and physical strength, it was better he fought from a distance, after all. 

“My, how human technology has come so far while I was trapped in that book…” Mister Mind whispered. 

He shot the guard, making the man scream out in pain, before going limp, the only thing supporting him being the restraint spell. Doctor Sivana dismissed the magic, and watched with interest as the electrified slime faded into nothing. The dead guard crumpled to the ground, and Sivana began to undo the seal on his armor to take off his helmet. 

It was slightly difficult, even for him. This armor was meant to let a human deal with a rampaging metahuman. It was meant to be durable, and not meant to come apart easily. It was too bad that it was too big for him to wear- the guard had a few feet on him -and too heavy for him to carry even if it did fit.

He finally got the helmet off and began to disassemble it as well. He plucked the radio from the helmet, and then began to pay attention to it in particular, taking it apart and reconstructing it in a smaller, more compact form. He slipped the machine around one of his fingers like a ring, and then abandoned the helmet, stealing the guards keycards as well. He made his way through the hallways as quickly as he could, using the keycards to get through every door. 

Soon, he came out on a balcony overlooking a mess hall where several dozen men in orange prisoner’s uniforms just like him were eating their meal, watched over by four heavily armed and armored guards. 

“Paparapapa! Paparapapa! Paparapapa! Paparapapa!” he called out, taking out each of the guards at the edges of the room. The group of prisoners eating below looked up at him in surprise even as the alarms began to go off. 

“Hello everyone. Tell me, do any of you have experience as henchmen?” Doctor Sivana asked, grinning, “I am breaking out of this prison, and if you obey me, I guarantee your freedom as well.”

In a flash, four of the prisoners were suddenly standing in front of him. All of them were Japanese men, of varying ages, but all still clearly related to each other. 

“I must confess I have little experience as a henchman. But if you’d be willing to accept a well-oiled mercenary team?” the eldest stated, smiling, “We are the Murasaki no Kyodai, the Bat-Ninjas of Hida.” 

“Ninjas, huh?” Doctor Sivana asked, grinning, “What the hell, why not? I could do with a ninja or four.”

“There’s five of us, actually,” one of the younger ones stated, “The strongest of our brothers is deeper in the prison, in the Metahuman containment area.” The level they were on now was designed with human prisoners in mind, after all, not people with powers. They tended not to let human and Metahuman prisoners mix.

 “Ah. Sorry, I’m not planning on heading deeper in. I’m heading out ,” Doctor Sivana said, frowning.

“But-” the younger ninja was cut off as the eldest put a hand on his shoulder. 

“We understand, sir,” the elder ninja said with a short bow, “Students, this is an opportunity that may not come again for a long time. Kon would wish us to escape without him, rather than not escape at all. Wouldn’t he?” 

“Yes, Master Murasaki,” the others said. 

“What’s the plan Mister..?” he trailed off. 

“ Doctor Sivana,” the scientist corrected, looking over his new minions, “And the plan is fairly simple. The Crab Shell is completely underwater. All prisoners and cargo are delivered via submarine. However all the submarine bays are heavily guarded, with multiple checkpoints before they let anything in or out. Fortunately, I have the ability to ignore walls. You four will dress as guards. I will take us directly to the bay, and we will try to get onto one of the submarines. You may have to fight off all the other guards stationed directly at the bay, but that shouldn’t be a problem for a squad of ninja, right?” 

“If we have armor and weapons like the guards do?” Murasaki asked, “I believe that is something that we could do.” 

Doctor Sivana quickly helped the four into guard uniforms, while sending other prisoners out into the hallways to cause as much chaos as possible, and keep other guards from the mess hall for as long as they could. 

The group, now properly equipped, made their way out. 

Doctor Sivana repeated the ritual- having done it once now, he found that it was easier with each successive casting, the pattern of circles and equations coming easier and easier to him, to the point where he didn’t have to bother actually writing it, simply willing the lines of light to appear -and had him and his four mercenaries pass through wall after wall, cutting through cells and closets in a path untraceable by the Crab Shell’s security system. 

Eventually, they exited out of a patch of wall near the doors of the submarine bay. The guards in the hallway were on high alert, and rushed to attack immediately, but the ninja were faster.

A few moments later, Doctor Sivana was led into the submarine bay by what seemed to be four guards. The guards inside the bay did not know what had happened to their counterparts in the hallway.

The ninjas pretended to herd him towards the submarine suspended above a massive moon pool, making it nearly to the doors before the guards stationed outside the craft stepped forward to block their way, “The prison is on high alert. There are prisoners out of their cells. No one is entering or leaving until the situation is dealt with,” the man told the four ninja, glaring at them suspiciously. 

“Paparapapa,” Doctor Sivana replied. 

As the guard collapsed backwards, and the ninja hurried to deal with the others closing in on them, Doctor Sivana scrambled into the craft, heading for the front of it. 

The four ninja backed into the entrance of the submersible, and Doctor Sivana pressed a button for the door to shut behind them. Murasaki made his way to the front of the sub, watching Doctor Sivana ready the machine for travel, before looking towards the window, and the metal barrier keeping the moon pool closed.

“They aren’t going to open the doors for us, Doctor,” Murasaki cautioned. 

“Mister Murasaki,” Doctor Sivana replied with a grin, “Through this entire break-out, who among us has been opening the doors?” 

Murasaki grinned as Doctor Sivana held out his arm, extending it towards the bulkhead. Sure enough, the lines of light began to take shape on the door of the moon pool below them. It sketched out a massive glowing portal, and then began to rapidly spin, becoming a whirlpool of light. 

Doctor Sivana laughed maniacally as water began to rise up and out of the maelstrom, pouring over the sides of the moonpool and splashing across the floor of the bay. 

“Get everyone out!” one of the few conscious guards called, “Get everyone out!” 

Doctor Sivana hit the button to release the sub, and grinned wide as the craft dropped downwards and into the portal. Sure enough, like every other use of the spell, it took him to the space on the other side of the wall. The submarine and its passengers passed into the open ocean unharmed.

With a thought, Doctor Sivana had the portal closed behind them. He pressed the lever urging the submarine forwards. They left the Crab Shell behind. 

He steered the submarines out into deeper waters, before putting in a course, and then getting up to rip a few panels from the walls. The ninjas watched him warily as he reached into the guts of the vehicle carrying them, and pulled free a device, “Crush that,” he said, tossing the machine towards one of them. 

“What is it?” asked Murasaki.

“Tracking device,” Doctor Sivana said, “We don’t want them recapturing us so soon, after all.” 

“No,” Murasaki said, dropping it and smashing it under his heel, “We don’t.” 

Doctor Sivana walked towards one of the closets built into the submarine, and opened it up, digging through what was available. Soon, he was wearing a captain’s hat and jacket rather than his prison orange. 

“Where are we making landfall?” Murasaki asked. 

“You boys are from Japan, aren’t you?” Doctor Sivana asked, upon receiving an affirmative, he continued, “We’re in the East China Sea, right now. If we headed further East and a bit North, we’d be in your backyard. Tell me, if we were in your home country, how quickly would you be able to find us some kind of safehouse?”

“Very quickly,” Murasaki stated. 

“Then we’ll be doing that,” Doctor Sivana said with a grin.

“Well done on the escape, Thaddeus,” Mister Mind praised into his ear. 

“Ah, that reminds me,” he slipped the ring he had made out of the helmet radio off his pinky finger, and then held his other hand close to his ear, “Piccolo, I have something for you.” 

The bookworm let go of Doctor Sivana’s ear, dropping into his waiting hand. He inched forward, as a caterpillar does, and accepted the device from Doctor Sivana, slipping his body through it. 

“What is -” he cut himself off, surprised by the volume of his voice as it was projected out of the radio loud enough for the humans in the room to hear , “ Oh, Thaddeus. I’ve never received a gift like this before, thank you.” 

One of the younger ninjas stared at Mister Mind in horror, “I’ll be honest, I thought that was a weird earring the whole time.”

Chapter Text

July 1991, several days before the 21st Metabrawl

Beeping cut through the dark room, eliciting a groan from its only occupant.

Mai yawned, pushed her long black hair out of her eyes, and reached over to tap her alarm clock. She looked at it for a moment, noting the date, and sighed. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of Doctor Sivana’s arrest. Getting up and getting dressed, she walked out into the main hall, passing Herkimer on his way out of the bathroom. In fact, she set her alarm a solid hour after Herkimer would usually set his own exactly for this reason.

Herkimer the Crocodile Man liked to thoroughly brush his teeth every morning, and he had a lot of them to go through. 

Heading downstairs, she heard the sounds of activity in the kitchen, and headed that way herself, following the enticing smell of breakfast, “Venus?” she asked, walking in and spotting her elder sister. The pair of them looked quite alike, although Venus was a bit taller, “You’re making breakfast yourself this morning?” 

“It’s a special occasion,” Venus said with a grin, “I thought I’d give the kitchen robot a break.”

“The anniversary of your ex-husband’s arrest?” 

“Well, yes,” Venus admitted, her grin falling, “Poor Thaddeus. But that’s tomorrow. No, the special occasion is that the kids are coming back home earlier than we thought for the anniversary! They’ll be here within the hour.”

Mai smirked, “Are you sure you should still be calling them the kids? Paella and Junior are already in college.” 

“They’re only in college because they refused to go to regular high school. And anyway, they’re the kids until they’re older than I am,” she said with a sniff. 

“Error: Due to the linear nature of time, it is impossible for Master Paella and Master Junior to be older than you, their creator,” the kitchen robot reported from where it was standing in the corner, quietly resenting not being able to do its job.

Venus rolled her eyes at it. 

Mai giggled, and turned to help with the preparations. Herkimer joined them not long after. As they made their way towards the dining room, the trio stopped at the sight of Jeepers already sitting at the table, a bib wrapped around his neck and a knife and fork already in his hands. He turned to them eagerly, and licked his lips. 

“We’re waiting to eat until the kids are here,” Venus said, arching an eyebrow. 

Jeepers’ ears drooped, his toothy smile becoming a frown, “Aw.” 

Not long after, the sound of the doorbell rang out through the building. “That’s them!” Venus said, delighted. She hurried off from the table, Herkimer and Mai getting up a bit after to follow. 

She ran to the front door, and swung it open, only to have her smile fall. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hello Venus! I broke out of prison! Surprise!” Doctor Sivana said, throwing his arms to the sides for a hug, but Venus simply stared down at him, before glancing up at the vehicle he arrived in, and the four purple-clad ninja standing behind him. Slowly, Doctor Sivana’s arms fell, and he instead awkwardly coughed into his fist, “...How have you been?” 

“Fine,” she said, “How long have you been out of prison?” 

“...A week or two.” 

“And you didn’t call ?” 

“I was on the run! I didn’t want to lead anyone to you until I was sure that we had lost any investigators.” 

“Hm,” she glanced behind him, “And who are they?” 

“My new henchmen. We met in prison, these are the Purple Brothers,” he said, “They’re ninjas. It’s very fancy.” 

Herkimer and Mai caught up with Venus, and then both stared at Doctor Sivana in surprise, “Doctor?” Herkimer asked, “What… but…” he looked behind him, to the ninja, “You replaced us?” 

Doctor Sivana frowned, “I can have as many minions as I want. Nobody’s getting replaced.” 

“I… okay,” Herkimer’s shoulders sagged, and he looked up at the four ninja, “Um, do you guys want to come in? I’ll go get the kitchen robot to make a few more servings for everyone.” 

Murasaki walked up before the rest, eyeing Herkimer for a moment, before shrugging, “Very well. Thank you for the hospitality.” He looked at Venus, and bowed slightly, “The lady of the house, Venus Sivana, I presume? The Doctor’s daughter?” 

Doctor Sivana flinched. He… was quite a bit older than her. 

“Venus Sho , actually,” she said, crossing her arms under her chest, “His ex-wife. I decided not to keep the name after the divorce .” Doctor Sivana flinched again. Murasaki looked between his employer and the woman awkwardly for a moment before Venus relented, sighing, “Fine, fine, the more the merrier, I suppose.” She stepped outside, letting the family of ninja walk past her into the mansion, following Herkimer. 

“Ah, and Venus, I’d also like you to meet the one who helped break me out. This is my new partner , Mind of Piccolo,” he said, gesturing to the caterpillar on his shoulder wearing a strange contraption. 

“Greetings, Miss Sho.” the bookworm said, tipping his tiny green head slightly.

She didn’t react as if this was in any way strange, simply nodding in greeting to him back, “Nice to meet you, Mister Mind of Piccolo. Thank you for helping out my ex-husband.” 

“ Think nothing of it, we have been helping out each other, really, ” the bookworm said, waving one tiny leg. 

“And what are you, if I may ask? Did my husband make you in his cell?” 

“ Oh, no, my dear Thaddeus did not create me. I’m actually a surviving fragment of a dead demon’s mind possessing the body of a Venusian Maxivermis- a magic bookworm -that happened to have been nearby at the moment of his defeat. Tiny, weak, stripped of my powers, and able to move very little, I had been forced into the life of a bug trapped in the library of the wizard who killed the demon. Your ex-husband used the Dragon Balls to wish for the magic book I happened to be chewing on at the time, and, well, here we are. ”

“Neat. Well, at least something came of all that,” she said. 

“ Indeed. ”

“Something wonderful,” Doctor Sivana said with a grin, “A mind able to keep up with my own.” 

Venus smiled, “Oh, Partners , hm? Well, I’m glad for both of you. Come on in.” 

“Thank you, Venus,” Doctor Sivana said, “By the way, are you expecting the children? Your greeting, earlier…” 

She nodded, “They should be by any minute.” 

“Good. I’ve missed them.” 

“If you didn’t know they would be here, why did you come? I mean, I’m happy to know you’re finally out of that dreadful place, but knowing you, I would have thought you’d be fine telling me over the phone.” 

“Ah. Well…” Doctor Sivana glanced at the bookworm on his shoulder. 

“ We require the Sivana Dragon Radar, ” Mister Mind explained. 

“The blueprints for it, anyway. The ones I sent to you for safekeeping. The original got confiscated by the FBI,” Doctor Sivana added.

“You’re going after those things again ?” Venus protested, putting her hands on her hips. 

“And I was going to ask if Jeepers, Herkimer, and Mai were… willing to forgive me for my rudeness, during the last few days we spent together. I’ve had time to reflect in prison, and I’ve come to realize that the three of them aren’t just minions. They’re part of the Sivana family.” Doctor Sivana explained. 

“Of course they’re family, you dense genius! They’ve been coming to our family get-togethers for years,” Venus snapped, “Mai was your sister-in-law for god’s sake, and you made the other two! Generally , that counts someone as part of your family!” She narrowed her eyes, and poked him in the chest, “You had better apologize to them for what you did to Mister Atom, too.” 

“I have something even better than an apology,” he said, beginning to grin, “Using the power of science to undo my mistake entirely!” 

She rolled her eyes, “Junior spent weeks looking for a backup of Mister Atom’s brain without finding one, where did you have it hidden?” Venus demanded.

“When I was looking for the Dragon Balls, I gave him a new chassis, including a new head, and finally got around to switching his memory from tape to digital. But the old head should still be inside the capsule house Mai and I were using when we were following the Brief girl through America. Inside his old head are the tapes containing his outdated memories. He won’t remember anything past the moment Brief’s bodyguard pummeled him the first time, but he’ll be back.” 

Venus sighed in relief, “ Good . Now, get ready to give your family the good news.” She looked over his shoulder and waved. 

Turning around, Doctor Sivana smiled at the sight of his children landing their custom hovercar- they built it themselves, of course -on the driveway behind his own. 

“Dad!” his daughter cried, “You’re out of prison! Took you long enough to escape. The Crab Shell must actually be pretty decent,” She climbed out of the hovercar and ran up to him, hugging him. She pulled back a moment later, adjusting her glasses, “You’ve made a cyborg bug?” she asked, gesturing to his shoulder. 

“ Dear Thaddeus only gave me my voice, everything else I obtained for myself, ” Mister Mind said, “ You must be Paella. ” 

“Oh wow, yeah, no way Dad would let one of his own creations call him Thaddeus ,” Paella Sivana said, grinning wide as she leaned in closer to stare down at him, “Aren’t you weird. If Dad didn’t make you sentient, does that mean all caterpillars are secretly sentient? Do they lose their sentience when they metamorphose into butterflies? Their brains become mush inside the cocoon, you know. Have you come to terms with the obliteration of your mind while your body carries on without you to only mate and die?” She asked cheerfully.

Thaddeus Sivana Junior finished turning off and capsulizing the hovercar, heading over to join them just in time to catch the last bit of Paella’s speech. “ Who’s mating and dying? Is Mom pretending to threaten Dad again? Did Dad mate and kill someone to get out of prison?” 

Standing next to each other, Junior and Paella couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than twins. The two of them shared Doctor Sivana’s slim frame, need for large glasses, and genius, while inheriting their mother’s dark hair, coloring, and some of her height. Both twins stood slightly taller than their father despite neither being adults yet. 

Mister Mind turned away from them and towards Doctor Sivana, “ Your family is just… charming , Thaddeus. ”

Doctor Sivana simply grinned. 

Chapter Text

Breakfast had been… awkward, with Jeepers glaring at him the entire time. Even the news that Mister Atom would be up and running again in the near future wasn’t enough to please Jeepers, even as Mai and Herkimer jumped for joy. 

The news that he was intending on rebuilding the Dragon Radar only made things more awkward. 

“Dad,” Junior began, “I know you always say that persistence is the key to success, but… your last hunt for the Dragon Balls went disastrously .” 

“You went to jail.” Paella added.

“You killed Mister Atom,” Jeepers sneered. 

“You lost the company,” Venus said, raising one eyebrow. 

“You used an all-powerful wish for a book that exploded before you got to read any of it,” Herkimer finished. 

“Yes, yes, yes, all those things happened,” Doctor Sivana muttered, “But this time it’ll be different! This time, I have a partner who’s just as intelligent as I am supporting me,” he said, gesturing to the tiny creature sitting at the table next to a small tea saucer, nibbling at an origami figure the kitchen robot had prepared for the bookworm.

He swallowed a tiny scrap of the paper, before looking up towards his partner, “ I don’t know about ‘just as’ intelligent as you, Thaddeus, ” Mister Mind said, “ I certainly possess a great wealth of knowledge, but I wouldn’t call myself a genius for the ages .”

“Flatterer,” Doctor Sivana said, blushing. 

“Look, even with your new partner,” Venus said, “If you’re looking for the Dragon Balls, then Brief and her bodyguards are going to be looking for them too. By the way, Thaddeus, I’m not impressed by you spending all Summer trying and failing to kill a gang of children,” she said. 

“Venus, this entire mansion we’re sitting in was bought with blood money from my company’s military contracts,” he said, “My weapons have probably killed plenty of children. You knew that from the day you met me.” 

“I said not impressed , not particularly bothered by,” she said with a shrug.

“Anyway,” Doctor Sivana continued, “It doesn’t matter whether they’re looking for them too, because with Piccolo’s magical knowledge, the Sivana Radar can be improved. Made portable, and far more accurate. I will have no need for the Brief Radar! Collecting the Dragon Balls will be a breeze.”

“What is it that you’re going to wish for this time, Doctor?” Mai asked, “Are you going to try and get the book back?” 

“Hm. No, I don’t think so. Piccolo and I made plans back in prison. He absorbed much of the book’s knowledge, and he’s been teaching me about magic bit by bit. The information I desired, I’ll eventually learn, even if it’s not as fast as I like. I have a different wish in mind: Immortality.” 

“You want to be immortal, boss?” Herkimer asked. 

“Of course. It will take me a long time to learn everything I can from Piccolo, certainly longer than a single human lifetime that’s already been half-spent.” He sighed, “I’m not getting any younger.”

“And Mister Mind doesn’t want anything for himself?” Junior asked, eyeing the bookworm, “He literally admitted to being a demon. Are you sure he’s not going to try and take advantage of this, somehow?” 

“I am a very patient being. Once the Sivana Dragon Radar has been improved, the world is our oyster” the bookworm said, plucking another shred of paper from the origami statue and swallowing it before continuing, “The power of the Eternal Dragon recharges over the course of a year. Thaddeus’ immortality this year, the restoration of my body the next, and then his turn, and then my turn again, and so on.” 

“It’s a very fair system,” Doctor Sivana added. 

Paella frowned, “What if the rest of us want wishes too?” 

“If I deem it worthwhile, then I’ll make a wish on your behalf,” Doctor Sivana stated. 

Paella pouted.

Venus stood up, and then headed out of the room, “Fine. I’ll get you your blueprint, but I don’t want anything else to do with this.” 

“Neither do I,” Jeepers said, growling, “But if I hear that your stupid scavenger hunt ends up getting Herkimer or Mai hurt, or you end up bringing Mister Atom back just to kill him a second time, then we’re going to have problems, Doctor.” 

Doctor Sivana grinned, “Don’t worry, this time nothing will go wrong!” 

When Venus returned with the blueprints, Doctor Sivana quickly set up a capsule workshop in the yard outside the mansion and got to work, Paella and Junior joining him in rebuilding the gigantic device as quickly as possible. It was Junior’s idea to make it mobile, and Paella quickly found a model of airship large enough to contain it. 

Mai was sent out to obtain the ship and by the time she returned that evening with the newly-bought vehicle, the three mad scientists had more-or-less recreated the Dragon Radar. They installed it into the airship just in time for Venus to call them in for dinner.

Afterwards, everyone in the mansion came out into the airship to watch Doctor Sivana and Mister Mind work their magic together. Just as before, Mister Mind coached the scientist through each step of the spell, and the rest of the gathered minions and family members watched with slowly growing awe as lines and symbols of light carved themselves onto the glass dome of the radar. Even without the dome being activated, it began to glow as the symbols faded, the surface of the glass globe suddenly replaced with the surface of the Earth. 

“ We have applied a scrying spell to the device, ” Mister Mind said, “ From now on, you’ll be able to see the exact position of the Dragon Balls. ”

“Wonderful work as always, Piccolo, you mystical artist you.”

“ Flatterer, ” the bookworm replied. 

“Now… we simply wait,” Doctor Sivana said, smiling down at the radar and pulling his sleeve away from his wrist to keep an eye on the clock, “In three… two… one…” 

Across the display, bright spires of orange light appeared, and one spire of green light, all of them moving along with the image of the Earth as it turned.

“Happy new years for the Dragon Balls,” Herkimer said.

“The nearest one is in Iowa.” Paella said, jabbing her finger at one of the lights.

“Practically in our backyard,” Junior agreed, eyeing their own position represented by the green light sitting in the middle of Minnesota, from their position near Fawcett City.

“Oh no you two don’t,” Venus said, “No magical scavenger hunts until you’re both eighteen,” she declared.

The twins sighed, before looking up at their father, “Well, good luck,” Junior offered, “Try not to get arrested again.”

“Tell me if becoming immortal has any drawbacks,” Paella added.

“Thank you for your help, children,” Doctor Sivana said, “Venus, Jeepers, it was nice seeing you both again. Everyone else who’s coming with…  buckle yourselves in. We’re going Dragon Ball hunting.” 

Chapter Text

The airship came to a stop over the farmland, and then slowly began to lower, coming to a graceful landing. 

Doctor Sivana’s hands danced with excitement as he pulled the magnifying glass away from the globe, “It should be right under us!” he said happily, “Purple Brothers, you’re up,” he ordered the quartet, “Remember, it’s an orange crystal ball, with red stars suspended inside it. It dropped out of the sky into this field a year ago, so it might be buried or hidden by plants. Get to work.” 

“Very well, Doctor,” Murasaki stated. He gave the signal to his students, and the group headed for the door of the airship, leaving Mister Mind, Doctor Sivana and two of his original minions behind to wait. 

“You sure you don’ want us to go look for it instead, boss?” Herkimer asked, nervous still about being replaced. 

“I’m sure. The Purple Brothers have been quite reliable the entire time they’ve worked alongside me.” 

“I just don’t trust ninjas,” the Crocodile Man said, glancing away, “Things didn’t go well when we tried to use that Assassin League, or whatever they were called.” 

“Although, to be fair we did ask for a discount assassin,” Mai reminded him. 

“I was on a budget!” Doctor Sivana protested. 

They didn’t have to wait for long, the four ninjas climbing back into the airship only a few minutes later, the Dragon Ball in hand. Murasaki handed it over to Doctor Sivana, who held it up in the light to admire it. 

“ It’s been a long time since I saw one of them, ” Mister Mind said, inching closer along the mad scientist’s arm to get closer. The bookworm reached out with one tiny limb to touch the surface, “ The Seven-Star Dragon Ball. ” 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Doctor Sivana said. 

“ One of the most beautiful things in the world. ” 

Murasaki considered the pair of them, before interrupting, “Doctor Sivana, if I may… we are quite appreciative that you facilitated our escape from the Crab Shell. But if we’re going to continue this work for you, securing such valuable objects, my students and I would like to receive… benefits.” 

“Benefits?” Doctor Sivana asked, looking his way. 

“Payment for our labor, Doctor.” 

“I knew we couldn’t trust ninjas,” Herkimer muttered, reaching into his jacket for a capsule.

“Now, now, Herkimer, no need to get hasty. Friends, I’m a genius. Soon, an immortal genius. I am going to make money again, inevitably. In fact, I plan to eventually conquer the entire world. If you stay by my side, serve me loyally, there’ll be a place of honor for you in my eternal world order. How’d you like to be the governor of Japan?”

“While nice, that’s a bit… long term.” Murasaki said. 

“I suppose. Perhaps while we’re waiting for the Dragon Balls to recharge afterwards, I could put my focus on getting your remaining brother out of the Crab Shell. How is that for payment?” 

Murasaki considered him for a few moments, “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he finally admitted.

“Excellent! Welcome to the team officially, then. Now-” he was cut off as the airship suddenly rocked, gravity shifting. Doctor Sivana fell from his feet, just like everyone else aboard, and began to slide across the floor into a wall, bumping into it roughly, “Is that turbulence!?” he shouted.

“We haven’t taken off yet, Doctor!” Mai called out from where she had fallen, “We’re still on the ground!” 

There was a roaring sound outside, an all-consuming rumbling. The ship tilted, sending everything rolling the other way. Doctor Sivana let out a cry of pain as he slid back across the floor and slammed into a chair, the Dragon Ball flew from his grasp and went bouncing across the floor.

“ Thaddeus, help me! ” Mister Mind suddenly cried out, and Doctor Sivana turned to follow the bright shape of the Dragon Ball as it bounced away from him. He spotted the tiny green object clinging to the ball for dear life. 

“Piccolo!” he shouted, trying to get to his feet only to crash back down as the ship’s angle once more changed. He let out a hiss of pain, but shuffled over to where the Dragon Ball had come to a temporary stop. He grabbed it, drawing it close, and the bookworm jumped from the ball to cling to Doctor Sivana’s clothes instead. Just in time, too, as the next twist of the airship sent the ball spiraling out of control from Doctor Sivana’s grip, rolling across the floor and out of the cockpit. One of the ninja shot out with a leg to stop it from disappearing into the back of the craft.

“We’re not on the ground anymore!” Herkimer shouted from where he was hanging onto one of the consoles near the window, “But we will be again soon!” 

“Start the engines!” Mai commanded him.

“I never learned how to pilot!” Herkimer shouted back, “I was always just the dumb muscle!” 

The four ninjas, who had come together in one of the corners and held onto the walls themselves to avoid being sent tumbling like the others, watched the window carefully. The Crocodile Man had been right. They were being lifted up into the air, tossed and turned and spun, “We’re inside a cyclone,” Murasaki said. 

“I heard those are common in Iowa!” Herkimer shouted unhelpfully. 

“Master, what do we do?” asked one of the younger ninjas even as he stuffed the Dragon Ball into his shirt.

“The only thing we can do: brace for impact!”

Chapter Text

The white-haired man waited for the burst of vapor to disperse, and then picked up the capsule marked with the same symbol of his army and the label “RRC04”.

With one cold blue eye he considered the devastation the weapon inside it had caused, and grinned. 

The field was ruined, a long groove cut into the ground that stripped it of all plants and structure. Even ripping up the fence on the edge of the field. But worst of all, of course, was the airship. It had been carried high into the air by the twister, and then when the unnatural weather stopped as quickly as it had begun gravity did its work. The airship hit the field hard, crumpling in on itself and becoming a mangled mess of steel. 

He strode forwards, and slipped the capsule into his thick black-and-orange long coat. The black half covered his right, the same shade as his eyepatch. The left half was a garish orange color specifically chosen to hurt the eyes of anyone who might be tasked observing him for any real length of time. 

Already, his men were hurrying closer, some of them taking jeeps right up to the edge of the wreck. The soldiers closest immediately began pulling away pieces of the wreck, cutting or forcing their way inside. 

He watched them work, and noted when one of the soldiers that had gone inside hurried out, speaking to another of his men before hurrying towards the man. 

“Colonel Silver!” he shouted, “We have survivors!” the soldier approached Silver from his left. He had a tendency to execute anyone who approached him from the right, not trusting anyone who might want to take advantage of his blind spot. Especially his own soldiers.

“I see.” 

He began walking forwards, his long stride forcing the soldier at his side to jog just to keep up. Red Ribbon soldiers saluted as he passed, none daring to meet his eye. He ducked into the entrance the soldier guided him to, and looked around at the ruins of the airship’s insides. He eyed the survivors.

A woman groaned in pain, her eyes wrenched shut. Not bad looking. A small bald man laid curled in on himself against one of the walls. Why was he wearing a labcoat? A crocodile-headed Metahuman was slowly climbing to its feet, hissing in pain. A threat.

Silver walked up to the Crocodile Man, and punched it in the face, his fist rocketing into the side of its snout and jerking the creature back. Its eyes went white as it flopped back over, unconscious. “Bring them outside and put them under guard,” he ordered, “Then tell everyone to back away from the airship.”

“Yes Colonel!” 

He watched silently as his soldiers marched into the room, collected the prisoners, and made their way back out. He waited until he was alone before slipping a hand into his long coat and drawing out a capsule. He pressed the button on it immediately, and moved his hand to perfectly grab the handle of the blade just as it appeared. 

He ignored the burst of vapor that surrounded his body, and simply moved . He swung his sword out in a wide slash, sending a half-dozen shuriken scattering across the floor. 

“Deathstroke himself,” a voice from the shadows spoke, “How surprising.” 

“My codename is Silver, these days,” Silver said gruffly, “Bat Clan, aren’t you? Haven’t fought one of those in a while,” Silver turned his head slowly, taking in the shadows that filled the room, “Four of you.”

“Your eye is sharp as always,” the voice stated. 

“Long way from Japan, for a ninja.” Silver said. 

“Long way from Markovia, for a Red Ribbon,” the shadows replied, “Mobilizing this many military vehicles in the middle of America? Something of a risky move.”

Silver smiled evilly, “The U.S. military isn’t going to cut ties with us so quickly, not when we’re the only ones selling capsule vehicles designed for war. So, which of them was your employer? The Metahuman? The woman? The man?” 

“The man. And he wasn’t an employer so much as someone we owed a favor to,” a masked purple form emerged smoothly from the darkness, “A favor we’ve more-or-less repaid at this point. Currently, we’re free agents. Job searching.” 

“Is that so,” Silver said, lowering the sword in his hand slightly, “I’m searching for something else. What was the old man after out here in the middle of nowhere?” 

The first ninja jerked his head to the side, and the other three ninjas appeared from the dark. One of them held out a bright orange crystal ball, seven stars suspended inside it. Silver frowned, “Hand it over, or I’ll slaughter all four of you.” The ninja holding it looked to his master first, and upon receiving a nod, tossed it towards Silver. He caught it with his free hand, “Do you know what these are?” he asked. 

“The scientist was looking for them. He claimed they were magic, able to grant any wish. He intended to become immortal,” the ninja said, “He also mentioned other people would be looking for them, but he believed it wouldn’t be a problem if he could just find them fast enough.” 

“ How did he find them?” Silver pressed, “Your ship landed right on top of it, and found the ball immediately.” 

“He had a device which could track them, a radar.”

One more accurate than their own, likely, “Where is it?!” Silver demanded. The ninja held out his hand, pointing towards the side at part of the airship that had caved in on itself in the crash. The metal was mangled beyond recognition, “Damn it.” 

“Mister Silver,” the ninja said, walking a few steps closer to him, “Tell me, is Red Ribbon recruiting? I’ve found that I quite like the idea of being part of the organization that conquered the world. And having seen a bit of magic in the last few days, I have a feeling that the ball you’re holding in your hand is the real deal. If Red Ribbon is the one to gather all of them, your organization's dream has a real chance of success.” 

“We might have an opening or two,” Silver began, only to hear a sudden boom from outside. 

“Oh dear, that must be Doctor Sivana’s lightning gun,” the elder ninja said.

“Sivana-!” He glared at the ninjas, “Stay out of sight,” he ordered. He turned his back on the assassins, unafraid, and marched outside. The group of soldiers he had whipped into an efficient machine were now in complete disarray, some of them dead. The prisoners were gone too, of course, the sight of a flight-capable battle jacket getting smaller and smaller in the sky in front of him the only sign of where they were going. His grip on his sword grew tighter, the weapon shaking from his barely contained rage. 

“Get planes out there, and hunt them down. That man you idiots let escape was the inventor of the radar, the only living man to use the Dragon Balls! Commander Red needed his intel!” 

“Sir, yes sir!” 

The soldiers were sent scrambling, and Silver let out a low growl. He turned behind him, glaring into the darkness, “You four spent time with him. Commander Red is going to want to hear everything you’ve learned about him.” 

“Is the Red Ribbon commander as generous with his paychecks as we’ve heard?” one of the younger ninjas asked, stepping out of the wreckage of the airship.

Silver grinned mirthlessly, “Commander Red is as generous as he is ruthless . Red Ribbon rewards success very handsomely, and punishes failure very harshly. I’ve made five times as much in my two years as a Red Ribbon officer than I did in the decade before as ‘Deathstroke the Terminator’. But at any given time I’m just one failure away from losing my head.” He smiled, “It’s my kind of work environment.” 

“Then consider us interested,” Murasaki said with a wide grin. 

Silver made his way back to one of the jeeps, and picked up the radio, “Get me Commander Red. I have good news to share.”

“Right away sir!” the operator on the other end replied.

As he waited, he looked back down at the object in his hand. The ninjas had a point. For the longest time Red Ribbon was a business before it was an army. As Capsule Corp’s only genuine competitor in the age of capsulization, they were one of the largest and most successful companies in the world. Anything CC refused to make on ethical grounds, Red Ribbon filled that niche. In particular, they produced and sold weapons to various groups all over the world. With such massive amounts of weapons, Red Ribbon eventually started fielding its own weapon experts, becoming a company that deployed mercenaries across the globe. But their military actions always stayed just barely within the lines the United Nations set. Even their takeover of Markovia wasn’t seen as Red Ribbon conquering a country. It was seen as the Baron buying Red Ribbon weapons or hiring Red Ribbon mercenaries. Commander Red was ambitious, but also cautious.

But now, for the first time since he joined, Red Ribbon wasn’t acting cautiously. They were deploying in numbers across the planet, armed to the teeth and riding in vehicles of war searching desperately for something. It wouldn’t be long before the world took notice, and the Red Ribbon Army was recognized as the military power that it truly was. 

Then, it would be war. The entire world against the Red Ribbon. And with weapons like the one he used to bring down the airship, it might even be a war the Red Ribbon could win. 

Colonel Silver was looking forward to it. 

But he didn’t understand why Commander Red was choosing now as the moment to make his move. Markovia was supposed to just be the first step in a larger plan. The Army was supposed to establish bases all over the planet, subverting one small country after another, before finally making their move on the world powers with the end goal of nothing less but global domination. He didn’t understand why these magical rocks were so important that Commander Red would trigger a world war early.

Silver spun the orb on one finger, watching as the stars inside remained impossibly stationary even as the ball turned. 

“Dragon Balls, huh?” 

Chapter Text

July 1991, the day after the 21st Metabrawl

Clark Kent rode the Nimbus through the sky, letting the warm tropical winds blow through his air as he flew over the endless blue ocean. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wind. He trusted the Nimbus to keep them on the right course as they traveled. 

When he opened them again, he looked back the way he came. Santa Prisca was far behind him now, completely out of sight. Turning back ahead, he waited for the first hints of land. About an hour went by before he spotted the first sign of the shore, and at the speeds the Nimbus was moving at, he passed by so quickly he barely got a glance at the beachside town before he found himself flying over bright green forest. 

South America.

He flew over fields and forests, hills and rivers, towns and the occasional city. Below him, flocks of birds nested in the trees, flares of color mixed into the endless green. Occasionally, he snapped a photo.

Reaching down, he tapped the Dragon Radar’s button, watching as the little light drew closer and closer to the center of the screen. He looked up from the radar, noting the mountains rising up and out of the forest ahead of him. “That’d be it,” he said with a grin. He glanced down at the Nimbus, smirking, “You sure make this a lot easier,” he complimented the cloud. 

He brought it lower in the air, gliding down and nearly scraping the tops of the trees dotting the mountains. 

As he got closer, however, his nose twitched. Clark found himself drooling, and reached up to wipe it away. “I guess it has been a while since breakfast,” he muttered. He looked down at the forest below. He was tempted to just feel for the energy of something with some meat on its bones, but this wasn’t Mount Paozu. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he was still in Venezuela or if he had already flown over the border into Colombia. Either way, he didn’t have a hunting license here, and he didn’t know the area. It’d be awful if he accidentally ate some kind of endangered animal. 

 There was some food in his storage capsules, but after the way he and his friends made a mess of all his bags this morning, if he stopped to get everything out, it’d be a whole thing. 

His nose twitched again, and he realized he might have another option. He could smell something cooking. His nose had noticed and told his stomach before his nose even told his brain. The scent was getting stronger the further up the mountain he went, and the closer he got to the Dragon Ball. 

He passed over the last bit of trees, and stared out at the wide stretch of land covering the tops of the mountains that were surprisingly without trees. He spotted a pair of capsule houses and a jeep, both of them sporting smoke from their chimneys. 

Clark smiled, he would have to head over and ask if they could share some of their lunch with him after he picked up the Dragon Ball. Maybe they’d accept some of the Santa Priscan money? Checking the Dragon Radar one last time, turning the knob to scale down the area the radar was looking at, he quickly guided the Nimbus towards a clump of greenery. As he did, he spotted the people who the capsule houses belonged to. Men dressed in brown jackets and blue jeans, all of them bearing a red bandanna somewhere on their bodies. 

Clark realized now why the top of the mountains were bare of trees despite the forest that expanded in every direction around them. The men were methodically expanding the clearing out in every direction around every peak, hacking away at bushes and pulling them up, while others used saws to take down trees. 

Must be some kind of logging operation. 

Well, he’d try not to get in their way. 

He dropped down next to the bush growing out of a crag in some of the rocks that had gone ignored by the woodsmen. The sound of his landing caught the attention of one of the loggers. The man stared over at Clark in surprise, slack-jawed. “What in sam hill…” 

“Good morning,” Clark said, grinning at him, “Don’t worry about me, I just need to grab something quick and I’ll be out of you guys’s hair.” 

He adjusted the radar, just double-checking, and then reached down into the bush and felt around for a bit. His fingers brushed against a smooth familiar surface, neither plant or stone, and he picked it up.

Six red stars were suspended inside the orange crystal of the ball. 

It wasn’t his family heirloom, but it was a welcome sight all the same. He dropped it into a sack tied to the belt of his uniform, and resolved to get himself a backpack as soon as he could. It was a bit inconvenient that the Dragon Balls refused to be capsulized- they were apparently ‘alive’ enough that the capsules just wouldn't activate for them. 

“You- you just-” the logger stammered, “-that’s the Dragon Ball!” 

The camp went quiet as men turned to look at the one who had shouted, and just who he was shouting at . Clark went still as he found himself the center of attention. The good mood he had been in all morning was starting to fall away. “You guys know what the Dragon Ball is?” he asked, eyeing them. 

Some of the men began to lift the axes, saws, and blades they had been using to hack away at the greenery in new grips, holding them like weapons. Others abandoned their tools to pull out Red Ribbon capsules, summoning various guns out of puffs of vapor. 

The man closest to Clark, the one he had spoken to, reached down to draw a pistol. He aimed it right at Clark, not hesitating in the least. The man smiled wide, “Hand over the ball, kid.” 

Clark looked around at the group. None of them were hesitating. None of them cared that it was a child they were pointing their weapons at. “Do you guys work for Doctor Sivana?” Clark asked, nervous.

“Who?” asked one of them. 

That was a no, then. 

The man pulled back the hammer of his pistol, “I said , hand over the ball. Now, or I’ll just take it off your corpse.” 

“What do you need the Dragon Balls for?” Clark asked. The man rolled his eyes, and pulled the trigger. The bullet was launched from the barrel of the pistol at high speed and went careening towards Clark, aiming right for his heart. 

He swatted it out of the air, sending the little piece of metal into the dirt at his feet. 

The man blinked in surprise, and Clark narrowed his eyes, leaping at him. Compared to Krillin’s speed, all of these men might as well have been holding still. He smacked the gun from the man’s hand, then grabbed his arm, and then swung him into the ground with a loud thump. 

More clicks filled the clearing as other men took the safeties off their weapons and prepared to fire. Clark jumped away from the man he had already knocked down, landing in front of a shorter guy with a shotgun. He punched him in the belly, and then grabbed his weapon out of the air as the soldier dropped it. Whipping the shotgun to the side, it crashed into a third soldier who was just about to fire. 

Clark jumped again, leaping over the sudden rain of bullets that went whizzing past, and reached behind him to draw the Nyoibo.

Chapter Text

The last man hit the ground face-first, and Clark set his staff back into its sheath on his back. He walked over to the very first of the soldiers, and lifted him up by the front of his shirt, “Are you awake?”

“No?” the man asked, hopeful. 

“Who are you people?” Clark demanded, “Why are you looking for the Dragon Ball? How did you know to look on this mountain?” 

The soldier swallowed, “I’m not telling you nothing, freak.” 

Clark narrowed his eyes, trying to look threatening, but it didn’t seem very effective, the soldier crossing his arms and daring Clark to try something, despite the bruises the man already had. He shoved the man back with a sigh, and turned his gaze towards the capsule houses a few hundred yards away. 

“Nimbus!” He called the cloud down, and jumped up to land on it, guiding it towards the capsule houses. He’d find answers there- and the food he smelled earlier.

The soldier he threw down didn’t stay down, however, noting the direction Clark was heading, he scrambled for the jeep and grabbed at the radio, “Colonel! Colonel! A flying kid on a cloud- he has the dragon ball, get outside!” he shouted, half panicking. 

As Clark flew over the capsule houses, one of the doors swung open and a man burst out, frantic. His hand shot into his longcoat, and came back out with a capsule that he was already activating. He was already aiming the rocket launcher even as it appeared in his hand, requiring not even a second before he fired the missile towards the yellow cloud above him. 

Clark heard the roar of the rocket and acted on instinct-

And immediately regretted it. 

His jump let him avoid the rocket entirely, but the Nimbus wasn’t so lucky. The somersault cloud was pierced by the head of the rocket, and the weapon, sensing resistance, detonated. The fireball that resulted radiated light and sound and pure force in every direction, shredding the magical cloud into a million thin yellow wisps. 

“ NO! ” Clark shrieked.

He stared as the last signs of the cloud vanished from the air, and then whipped his head around towards the man who shot it. Colonel Silver lowered the rocket launcher and watched as Clark landed on his feet, the Nyoibo already in his hands. 

“Nice landing,” Silver said, looking Clark up and down. 

 “You killed the Nimbus!” Clark shouted, furious. 

“I’ll kill you too, if you don’t answer my questions,” Silver said, “First things first, why are you looking for Dragon Balls? How did you know to look for it here in these mountains, and find it so easily?” Silver asked, unknowingly repeating Clark’s own questions of the soldiers earlier. 

Clark grit his teeth, fists clenching around the Nyoibo, the pole growing heavier in response to his rage. “Why should I tell you anything? You killed-” his friend? His vehicle? His pet? He didn’t know how alive or intelligent the magical cloud truly was. Just that it was always helpful, and protected him from the cold, and always came when Clark called it. He found tears running down his cheeks, and furiously wiped them away, “ You killed my Nimbus! ”

Clark swung the Nyoibo, and the pole grew as he did, slamming hard into the side of the weapon and crunching the metal even as he ripped it from Silver’s grip. 

Silver stumbled back in surprise, before thrusting his hands into his coat. From each hand there was a burst of vapor, and he pulled them back out with a sword and a pistol in hand. He lifted the gun towards Clark immediately, firing. Clark stepped back, letting the bullet pass him by, but he knew that even if he let it hit-- and even if the bullets could pierce his skin -it would have hit him in the side of the leg. A shot meant to disable, not kill. Maybe that was a good sign? That the guy in charge was less bloodthirsty than his followers?

He swung the power pole once more, and Silver slid underneath it. Once he was on the other side of it, he jumped up and started running down the pole, moving with surprising quickness. 

Clark was so surprised at the move he didn’t even try to jostle the man off until Silver was nearly on top of him, swinging down with his sword. Clark shoved the Nyoibo upwards, flinging Silver back, and then retracted the pole down to a size that was more appropriate for close range. He jabbed out with the staff and Silver deflected it to the side with his sword, the steel sparking as it slid against the surface of the Nyoibo. 

Silver put his weight against the blade and then shoved off the ground, pressing on Clark and angling his sword to draw closer and closer to Clark’s face despite the pole interposed between them. Clark snarled, forcing the Nyoibo to retract to almost toothpick size, and then reached up to catch Silver’s sword as it came racing towards his head. 

Silver went wide-eyed as it came to a stop in Clark’s hand. 

He pushed back on the sword, but Clark didn’t let it go. He turned his glare on the older man, making eye contact as Clark slowly and purposefully squeezed on the metal, making it crumple like paper between his fingers. 

“Apologize,” Clark growled out. 

Silver dropped the sword, bringing up his gun and firing point-blank at Clark’s head. Clark reacted on instinct, moving as fast as he had to to keep up with Krillin at the tournament, leaning his head out of the way of the bullet and letting it sail past. 

Silver growled, aiming to fire again only to flinch as Clark interposed the ruined sword between them, the bullet striking the metal of the blade and going careening back towards Silver, nicking his ear and taking a little of his hair as it shot past. Clark tossed the sword aside and then jabbed outwards, punching the gun out of Silver’s hands and sending the dented firearm clattering to the ground some distance away. 

Silver stared at it, before eyeing Clark, “Impressive,” he admitted, “In fact, I’m so impressed that you have one last chance, boy, before I start getting angry, and getting serious . How did you find the Dragon Ball? What kind of device do you possess?”

“...You tell me first,” Clark said, “And then maybe I will. Who are you people? What do you want with them?” 

“We’re the Red Ribbon Army,” he said proudly, “the most fearsome military force in the world, as for what we want with the Dragon Balls, I couldn’t tell you. I’m a soldier, not the Commander. Now, answers .” 

“No. Sorry, I didn’t actually think you’d tell me,” Clark said, before swinging his hand Silver's way and making the Nyoibo expand at extreme speed. The miniaturized Nyoibo grew back to full size in a rush, catching the assassin in the chest, and then kept going, lifting the man higher and higher and higher into the air, pushing him farther and farther away, until Silver cleared the top of the mountain entirely, flung out over the forest. 

Clark returned the pole to its normal size and slid it back into its sheath on his back. 

He turned to look out at the sky overhead, and felt a pain in his chest. “My…” he said quietly, clenching his hands. What would he do next? He wasn’t going to give up on his journey just because he couldn’t fly on his own anymore. He could go as far as he could over land, and if he had to cross oceans, he had the second-place prize money to buy tickets on a boat or plane. 

As he considered the vast forest stretching out ahead of him, he heard a sound. Roaring wind. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He turned his head, and twitched his ears. “That’s a cyclone,” he muttered. 

They hit Kansas a lot, and they could get really bad. Sometimes almost a hundred in a single year. They were gigantic, terrifying, overwhelming forces of destruction. They ripped paths through fields, destroying hundreds of hours of work in seconds. They lifted and tossed entire houses sometimes. The Wizard of Oz was an exaggeration only in how the Gale family’s farmhouse managed to stay in one piece.

He remembered dozens of nights across his childhood spent hunkering down with his Ma and Pa in the storm cellar while thunder rolled overhead, praying that the barn would be enough to protect the animals from the wind, and that the damage to the fields wouldn’t be too bad. 

He stared up into the sky, and began to get worried. The clouds above were thin and white. No thunderstorm in sight, but he could still hear the roaring of the wind. 

Chapter Text

Clark watched with growing horror as the forest went quiet, and then burst into noise as the trees began to shake and writhe. Birds and animals scurried for shelter, sending scared calls through the air loud enough to be heard in every direction. Leaves and twigs began to lift up from the forest floor, forming just the bare outline of a funnel, but as the thin pillar of swirling debris got larger and stronger, more and more dirt and detritus was pulled into it, coloring and giving shape to the tornado.

The pillar expanded, wider and wider, darker and darker, taller and taller, reaching high up into the sky. The air rumbled with the sheer sound of it. It strained his ears and set every nerve on edge.

And then it started moving towards him , ripping its way through the jungle in between it and the mountain. 

Clark turned tail and ran, dashing for the open door of the capsule house and slamming it shut behind him. He looked around for somewhere to hide, but it wasn’t like a capsule house had a designated storm cellar. At best he could duck under one of the bunkbeds or hope staying under the wooden table would provide some kind of protection. 

His mind was racing, the roaring of the wind making him worry, when he heard a voice. 

“Colonel Silver! Please, deactivate the weapon! We’re still in range! It’s going to be right on top of us!” 

Clark turned his head towards it, and saw the radio sitting on one of the wooden shelves. 

“Colonel Silver, please!” 

The other soldiers. The ones Clark had beaten down and left lying where they were, in the path of this tornado. They weren’t going to escape in time. 

He ran back out of the capsule house, and searched around the door for the capsulize button. He found a keyhole next to a closed panel, and pressed his hand into the metal until it warped. He ripped out the lock, pried open the panel, and then hit the capsulize button. The house vanished in a burst of vapor, and Clark hurried to the next one, ripping out its locked-shut panel and capsulizing it too. 

Taking both capsules with him, he ran back the way he came at full speed, kicking up a pillar of dust behind him as he dashed over tree stumps and tamped-down earth. Finally, he came across the Red Ribbon. A few of them were still lying unconscious where he had downed them, while others had gotten up, a few helping their more-injured comrades. A few of the Red Ribbon soldiers were straight-up missing, along with their jeep. He couldn’t afford to worry about them, and just hoped that they were driving somewhere safer.

“He’s back!” one of the soldiers cried out with fear. 

“Everyone!” Clark shouted, “The tornado is getting closer!” He threw both capsules into the center of the field, deploying both of the Red Ribbon houses in an explosion of vapor that was quickly dispelled by the whistling winds, “Get inside, and cover your heads! Try to stay under something sturdy!” 

He ran for one of the unconscious Red Ribbon and lifted the man up onto his shoulder, before hurrying over and tossing him into the capsule house. 

The soldiers stared at him dumbfounded, before Clark turned his glare their way, “Come on! Hurry! Tornadoes aren’t a joke! Pick up anyone who can’t run!” he roared at them. The soldiers jolted into action, and moved to start carrying their injured into the shelters. Content that they were going to be as safe as he could get them in the short term, Clark turned his attention back towards the approaching twister. 

The one on the radio said that it was a weapon. Clark could tell right from the start that it was unnatural, seeing as it appeared without a thunderstorm and moved in a straight line, but that confirmed it. The twister was making its way towards him from where Clark had launched Colonel Silver out into the woods, which meant that the Colonel was responsible. 

And if Silver was using a weapon to make the tornado, then that same weapon could make the tornado stop . Clark steeled himself, and started running down the mountain. 

The jungle wasn’t quite like the forests he had been in before. The trees, once he got into them, were so much larger, and so much more bristling with life. When he reached out with his ki sense, trying to find Colonel Silver, he was nearly overwhelmed with the densely-packed animal life that seemed to exist in every nook and cranny available for miles around. Even with so many of the creatures fleeing, even more tried to hunker down in the face of the storm. 

He grabbed onto a vine and used it to climb up into the canopy. 

He swung from branch to branch with an ease that he couldn’t find from the mountain forests of the Rockies or Aomori, the air was so dense with branches. He could fling himself in any direction and find places where his hands and feet could find support. Moving like a monkey, despite the lack of his tail, he quickly plunged through the forest, racing deeper and deeper into it, heading for the heart of the tornado.

Finally, he couldn’t hear anything at all over the constant force of the tornado filling the air with its sound, and the trees all around him were shaking more like a field of grass than towers of wood. He climbed through the canopy more carefully, and kept his eyes narrowed almost shut to avoid the dirt and debris being thrown around at high speeds. 

He watched with concern out of the corner of his eye as a family of monkeys fled in the opposite direction.

The storm was in front of him. 

It was just too big. Too impossible. Even if a man did control it, even if it was just a weapon, it was also a spinning, swirling, vortex of wind and death. He couldn’t feel the ki of Colonel Silver, too distracted by his own fear and the tornado’s assault on his senses to concentrate. He didn’t know where the weapon was, but it was too late to turn back around at this point. The twister was getting closer. There were horrifying cracks as the massive, beautiful trees, larger than any in any forest he had seen before, were plucked from the earth and snapped under the force of the speed of the wind.

How could he fight a force of nature? How could he fight a tornado? He couldn’t fight a thunderstorm, or an earthquake, or a wildfire…

Actually, he had seen someone fight a wildfire before, hadn’t he?

Sure, it wasn’t a natural wildfire, but this wasn’t a natural tornado, either.

Clark dropped to the shaking forest floor, and settled into a low stance, moving his hands towards his side and cupping them. 

“Ka…” 

Chapter Text

“...Me… Ha… Me…” 

It was going to take a blast bigger than he had ever tried to do. If he wanted to disperse as much of the tornado in one shot, then it would take a beam far stronger and with far wider range than he would ever dare use against another living thing. 

“ HA !!!”

He thrust his hands forwards and up, and let the blast go. He poured more energy into the attack than he had ever used all at once. His stomach twisted in hunger, his limbs began to ache with exhaustion, and his vision began to go dark at the edges as he pulled the cork on his own pool of life energy and let as much of it as he could spare flow down the drain. 

This Kamehameha wasn’t a beam so much as a cone of pure force. Light flooded the jungle, coloring the cyclone in strange shades as the yellow light of Clark’s spirit filtered through the spinning layers of dust and debris. The sound of the storm was matched and then drowned out by the explosion of the crackling ki. The nearest trees were vaporized by the force of the blow. Rock crumbled under Clark’s feet, the weight of his attack pressing him deeper into the earth. He watched as the tornado swelled and then burst, every bit of debris that made it up either getting blasted to atoms or scattered by the winds that suddenly exploded in every direction. 

Clark let his arms drop, and waited for the chaos to clear. 

The light faded into motes that sparkled in the air like stars before finally fading away. 

Clark wondered where it went, when he used his energy up. Did it return to the environment? Would this part of the jungle, when it grew back, be brighter, greener, stronger? He hoped so. 

The winds began to calm, and wood chips and pebbles began to rain all around him, dust getting blown away by the remaining agitated breeze. In front of him was a path of destruction, churned-up earth, shattered and splintered trees, small animals that had met their end, unable to escape in time or so light that the wind managed to grab them right off the ground or pluck them from the air. 

He dropped to his knees, breathing hard.

The pit inside himself that used to be full of his ki was now practically empty, chewing at his body in hunger panes so strong that they made him bend over in pain. He groaned as he flopped over, and was unable to react to the sounds of stomping feet. 

He heard the click of a pistol’s hammer, and felt cold metal press into his skin, “What the hell are you?” he heard Silver speak.

Clark’s hand lashed out for Silver’s leg, and with a tug he brought the assassin crashing down to the earth. Clark pulled himself up to a standing position and tried to kick the gun out of Silver’s hand, but the assassin snarled and lined up a shot around Clark’s now-sluggish attacks. He fired, once, twice, three times, and Clark let out a harsh cough as he felt the impacts strike across his chest like punches narrowed down to a single point. 

He flopped back down to the ground with a groan. 

Silver stared at his opponent with his one eye, and then slowly began to smile, “You’re interesting , boy. Tell me, how would you like to put your power to real use? I see an enormous amount of potential within you. I could forge you into a weapon the likes of which the world has never-” Clark reached up and pulled the Nyoibo from his back, and immediately extended it outwards, striking Colonel Silver in the stomach and folding the assassin with an audible grunt. 

 Silver grabbed the Nyoibo, twisting it to wrench it from Clark’s grasp, and then let out a gasp as it became impossibly heavy. Silver let the weapon drop to the ground, and then stared at the teen with rage in his eye. 

“ Nevermind, then! You’ll go before Commander Red, he’ll have his doctors extract whatever information your tiny skull holds out of you, and then he’ll kill you, or worse ,” Silver growled. Above him, the wind began to stir, and the sky began to roar as the tornado began to slowly reform. Clark turned his head, and watched, eyes full of fear, as all his efforts were undone. Silver followed his gaze, and smirked. He reached into his coat, and drew out a small remote. He pressed a button, and lifted it to his mouth, “Stop it. We don’t need the storm any longer. Report to me.” 

The tornado didn’t stop immediately, but it began to slowly lose direction and speed, fading away to nothing but a dust devil that dwindled as it aimlessly roiled away. Clark followed Silver’s face, searching the sky, until he made out a single point of red in the blue. As the object appeared, Clark started making out details. It was a human figure, wearing heavy red and gold-painted armor, but surrounding its legs was a miniature twister, colored a deep red the same as its body. 

The figure’s vortex decreased in size as it approached, before fading away entirely, letting the figure drop with a heavy thud. As it stepped forwards, Clark heard the familiar sound of robotic legs. “Mister Atom?” he asked, going wide-eyed. 

The figure stopped walking and turned towards him. It wasn’t Mister Atom, but it was a robot. The head wasn’t large enough to be a mere helmet. Its eyes were simple slits in its smooth metal face, a soft white light glowing in the darkness of each eye marking its pupils. It had no nose. On its forehead was a slightly raised arrow made of gold, pointing down towards its- almost bizarrely, considering the other inhuman features -human mouth. Its ears were covered in protective domes. 

Its chest was marked with the Red Ribbon symbol, two letter “R”s inside a bowtie. On each shoulder was a golden “4”. 

“I am not Mister Atom,” the figure said in a monotone voice, “I am Red Ribbon Cyborg Four: Red Tornado. Who are you?”

Chapter Text

“He’s an enemy of the Red Ribbon, that’s what he is. Red Tornado, carry him with us, and watch him. If he tries to attack or escape, kill him,” Silver ordered. 

“This is a child.” 

“Good observation,” Silver growled, “Now follow orders. Or do you want to end up like Cyborg One?” Silver’s thumb shifted position on the remote, nearing the biggest, reddest, button on the device- but not quite pressing down on it.

The metal man flinched, and then turned and picked up Clark. Seeing Nyoibo on the ground, the figure also reached out and picked up the weapon, lifting the pole without much trouble. To the metal figure’s surprise, the pole shrunk down to a size that was easy to just slip into the figure’s belt.

“Good. Oh, and grab the bag and give it to me,” Red Tornado pulled it free from Clark’s belt, before handing it over. Then, the pair began to walk back towards the mountain. Clark considered struggling, but he was too weak to put up a fight, and he knew it. Especially against something powerful enough to simply summon up cyclones. He eyed Red Tornado, taking in the way the man moved. The sounds were robotic. There were no breathing sounds, and as Clark leaned back slightly to press his ear against the chest of the cyborg, there was no sound of a heart beating inside, nor the quiet bubbling of digestion. 

Silver pulled free the Dragon Ball from the bag, holding it up and admiring the crystal in the sunlight, “To think, we’ve been searching for days, and you just strolled up and grabbed it. Using, I’m guessing, this .” He picked up the Dragon Radar as well, and turned it over in his hands before feeling around for a switch or a button. Quickly enough his fingers found that the top piece had a slight give to it, and turned it on. He blinked at the dots as they appeared on the device, “How precise is this?” he asked. 

Clark said nothing. 

“Red Tornado, break one of his fingers.” 

Both the boy and the cyborg flinched, and turned their heads slightly to look at each other. Clark’s eyes met the glowing white lights. With some concentration, Clark reached out with his senses, and found that while he couldn’t hear or smell anything alive in Red Tornado, he could still feel the being’s ki, and with it, just… just twinges of feeling. 

Compassion. Fear. 

Flickers of hatred, directed at the man in front of them. 

Silver’s thumb moved closer to the button, and Red Tornado’s fear spiked. Slowly, with a shaking hand, Red Tornado moved to grab one of Clark’s fingers.

Clark decided to save them both, “You don’t have to do that, I’ll talk,” he said, letting his exhaustion creep into his voice even as he explained, “How precise it is varies,” he said truthfully, “The longer a Dragon Ball’s been sitting in one spot, the more diffuse the energy it gives off becomes. This radar is good at picking up Dragon Balls that have moved recently, but the other radar is good at picking up Dragon Balls that have been stationary for a long time.” 

Silver had been watching his expression carefully, looking for any tells of lying or dishonesty. He didn’t find any. “The other radar?” Silver asked, “The one built by Doctor Sivana?” 

“Is he working for you?” Clark asked, suspicious. 

“How do you know him?” Silver demanded, before going wide-eyed, “Wait. How many Dragon Balls have you found with that? Where are you keeping them?” 

“That one,” Clark said, nodding his head at the ball in Silver’s hand, “is the first one I found this year.” 

“This year? Then… you helped Doctor Sivana find the Dragon Balls a year ago?” a smile began to pull at his face, “If you keep being cooperative like this, I’m sure the Red Ribbon could benefit from your dragon-hunting experience, and make the rewards quite beneficial.” 

“I wasn’t helping him!” Clark blushed in embarrassment, “Well, not on purpose. Me and my friends were fighting him, trying to take his Dragon Balls. But in the end, he got ours.” 

“I wasn’t aware of a conflict,” Silver muttered, “That might be useful information. But my point still stands, boy. Your future can either be a brief one full of pain, or it can be a long one spent in the lap of luxury.” 

Clark didn’t reply. 

They climbed up the mountain. Every few yards, Clark’s stomach would grumble again. Neither Red Tornado or Silver addressed it, but Clark needed to fill the silence with something, “I haven’t eaten lunch yet,” he said, excusing himself, “And those big blasts need a lot of calories.”

“There is food back at camp,” Red Tornado said helpfully. 

“No food until you start being more willing about information,” Silver snapped, “Speaking of… is there any significance to the number of stars? Or the locations where the Dragon Balls ended up?” 

“I think the stars are just to help you tell apart the seven balls. They just go from one star to seven stars. As for where they end up… I’m not sure. When Doctor Sivana and my friends were racing to find them, almost all of the balls we found had been where they were for a long, long time. I think-” Clark cut himself off before he could mention Bulma’s name, or her suspicions on when the last wish was used. 

“Think what?” 

Clark let his stomach growl, “Maybe I could remember more with a full stomach?” he offered. 

Silver suddenly lashed out with a punch, and Clark leaned his head to the side just in time for the blow to land on Red Tornado’s chest instead. There was a loud, low, metal sound, like someone hitting a gong. Silver bit back a curse and cradled his injured hand with the other. “Tornado, knock him out, I’m tired of this attitude,” he demanded. Red Tornado hesitated, but once more followed the command.

All at once, red light began to fill the air around Clark’s face. It spun around him, twisting and twisting, faster and faster, and Clark began to struggle as he realized what was happening. His hair whipped in front of his face wildly as air began to vanish from his lungs. He slammed an arm back, denting the steel of Red Tornado’s chest, only to have the limb restrained by the cyborg’s hands. Clark thrashed, but weakened as he was from the massive Kamehameha, he didn’t get far before the loss of air put him out. 

He slumped in the cyborg’s hands, and Red Tornado’s shoulders drooped as the cyborg let go of the air and let Clark breathe again. Carefully, the cyborg repositioned Clark, cradling him in his arms rather than restraining him. 

Chapter Text

“Why the hell are the capsule houses all the way out here?” Silver asked. 

“The boy he… when he saw the twister coming, he came back for us. Brought us the capsules to try and protect us,” one of the soldiers sporting a black eye and a missing tooth reported.

Colonel Silver scoffed, before marching towards the houses and slamming his hands on the door, “Everyone out! Get moving. We’re heading back to HQ with the Dragon Ball in hand, no thanks to any of you useless wastes of space!” 

“Some of them aren’t able to get up yet. The boy put them out of commission,” the soldier said, looking away from Silver and towards where Red Tornado stood some distance away, still holding an unconscious Clark, who was now bearing handcuffs around both his wrists and ankles. 

“Get them up anyway. Or just leave them behind. I don’t want to waste any more time in this god forsaken jungle than we have to.”

“Yes sir, Colonel,” he stalked off and began to bark orders at the other soldiers, while Silver headed into the capsule house himself, turning on the radio, and calling to get in touch with the commander.

Clark groaned slightly, his eyes slowly fluttering open, and immediately he winced as his stomach gurgled. He shifted slightly, but found his movement limited by handcuffs holding his limbs together, wrist chained to wrist and ankle chained to ankle. He was still in the arms of the cyborg. Immediately, he went ramrod straight and tried to struggle away, only for the cyborg to hold him tighter to his body, “Don’t try to escape. Please.”

“But-” 

“I am sorry for what I did to you, but neither of us have much choice in this,” Red Tornado said quietly, “I don’t want to do it again, so please don’t try escaping. You’d just end up getting us both killed.” 

“Both-” Clark played back the interaction between the cyborg and the Colonel in his mind, “What… did happen to Cyborg One?” he asked. 

“We’re not robots,” Red Tornado began explaining, “We have our own minds. I think that was part of the point of us- we’re human bodies who’ve been modified bit by bit into weapons, but we’re still humans at the base. But because we have our own minds, they needed a control measure, so the Red Ribbon Army inserted bombs into our chests. Cyborg One, Bozo, tried to secretly get in contact with a detective, pass on information about Red Ribbon’s illegal acts. Bozo was discovered by Colonel Silver before he could hand over the files. Commander Red ordered all of us who were built at the time to gather in one room, and then were made to watch as Colonel Silver activated Bozo’s bomb, as a warning to the rest of us to never disobey.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Clark said, “Were you and… ‘Bozo’ friends?”

Red Tornado inclined his head slightly, “I was the one to name him Bozo. At first he was called Red Ferro, the Iron Man. I was just teasing him at the time, but he made the title his own.” 

“What was his name when he was-” he was about to say ‘human’, but that would have been insensitive, “-before Red Ribbon took him?” 

“Most of us can’t remember anything about our lives from before we became Cyborgs, not even our names. I don’t know whether I was a man or woman, young or old, tall or short.” 

“I’m sorry, Tornado. I’m sorry about the dented chestplate, too,” Clark apologized after a moment, “Did I damage anything?” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“...Are you voice-activated, or is the remote the only thing that can trigger the bomb?” Clark asked quietly.

“Only by remote,” Red Tornado said, “At least as far as I know.” 

“If you feed me, and I regain my strength, I promise that I can get that remote out of Silver’s hand before he can even reach for the button.” 

“Is that so…”  Red Tornado turned and started walking towards one of the capsule houses, nudging open the door with his foot. The Red Ribbon soldiers inside stilled at the sight of the large cyborg and the teen, before they began to show different reactions. 

Some inched away from the pair in fear, although whether they were more intimidated by Clark or the machine-man varied. Others, especially the more badly bruised, smiled at the sight of Clark in chains. But a few looked at him with… conflicted expressions. One of those walked closer, and looked down at Clark, “Why’d you come back for us?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You got the Dragon Ball. The twister was coming. You had all our capsules at your hands, you could have gotten away, but instead you brought them to us, and told us to start taking shelter.”

“I… you don’t just leave people to die in a storm,” Clark said, thinking the answer was obvious.

“We tried to kill you,” the soldier said. 

“So? That doesn’t mean I just sit back and let a twister run you over while you’re too injured to run.” 

Red Tornado cleared his throat, a rough crackling electric sound that immediately drew the attention of every person there, “The prisoner requires food.” 

The soldier who had been asking Clark the questions nodded quickly, “Yeah, sure. Come on, I’ll fix something up.” Another of the soldiers set a hand on his shoulder.

“You know the Colonel wouldn’t have let the robot kill us,” the other soldier said, “We don’t owe the kid anything except bruises .” 

“I know,” the soldier said, brushing him off even as he began opening shelves and getting out food. He took out a bag of sliced bread, and then pulled out a jar of peanut butter, “You allergic to peanuts, kid?” 

“No allergies,” Clark said. 

Clark ate the first sandwich, and then the second, and then the third before the soldier started getting annoyed and moved to put the food away, when Red Tornado jerked out with one arm and pushed him away, “You call that a meal? This is a hungry young man, and a metahuman who burns more calories than most. That’s not enough, he’s going to be stick-thin,” the cyborg scolded, ”Here, hold him for a moment.” 

“What-” 

Red Tornado handed off Clark to the soldier and marched up to the shelves and opened up every drawer he could reach. Then, he promptly started cooking. Clark and the soldier gave each other a glance of surprise, watching the cyborg work.

Chapter Text

Now that his stomach wasn’t trying to eat itself, Clark found himself focusing on the task ahead of him. Red Tornado was carrying him, and both his arms and legs were bound together. The pair were walking towards the capsule house where the Colonel was still speaking on one of the radios with his superiors.

“The cuffs?” Tornado asked quietly. 

“I’ll be able to break ‘em.” Clark replied, still just over a whisper, “Just tell me when.” 

Tornado subtly lifted the miniaturized pole from his belt, and slipped it into Clark’s hands. Then, it quietly opened the door to the capsule house. Clark saw Silver briefly look up from the radio, notice them, and then go back to concentrating on the voice on the other side of the line. Sitting in Silver’s arm was the bag containing both the radar, and the Six-Star Dragon Ball. 

“When,” the cyborg said.

Clark leaped the moment Red Tornado spoke, flinging himself at Colonel Silver with his full speed. He wrenched his arms to the side, spreading his legs, and grinned as the chains of both sets of cuffs shattered under the strain. He crashed into the Colonel a moment later, not letting the man even turn around, and snatched the bag away from him, throwing it backwards behind him and out of the way. It crashed through the window of the capsule house and landed outside.

Then he began to pat the man down, feeling for anything that might be the remote. He pulled out a gun and tossed it aside, and then another gun, and then a capsule case- tossing them out the window too -before putting his hand around the remote. 

“What- get off me!” Silver snarled, struggling to grab at Clark even as the teen leaped back, the remote in hand. Silver’s eye widened as he spotted what was in Clark’s hand, and froze, “Boy, what do you think you’re doing with that?” 

Clark grinned, and squeezed the remote in his hand. The plastic instantly crumpled, the electronics inside it fizzling out and breaking. 

Silver’s head immediately whipped towards Red Tornado, his own blue eye making contact with the glowing white pupils of the mechanical man. “Oh fuck.” Red light pooled around Red Tornado’s arms, and twin vortexes appeared. The two dust devils erupted from his limbs and extended out like a pair of snakes, twisting and writhing and shooting past Clark to slam into the Colonel and lift him up into the air- and through the roof the capsule house. Tornado ascended into the air through the hole he had made, and Clark ducked back out the door. 

“Colonel!” shouted a few of the soldiers upon seeing the condition of their leader, readying their weapons. Clark was on them in a moment, extending the Nyoibo and bashing weapons out of hands and slapping his staff into the faces of bad guys. 

Red Tornado descended towards Colonel Silver. One of the dust devils evaporated into swirling air, while the other compressed into a fiercely red-glowing maelstrom coiled around one of Red Tornado’s hands. The cyborg reached out to grab Silver by the jacket with his free hand, lifting him up into air, before he brought down the other hand on top of the mercenary like a hammer. Red Tornado let go, and the man went spinning away, launched by the force of the miniaturized storm. 

Silver rolled across the ground, hacking and coughing, “Red Tornado, please… you don’t want to do this. I’m sorry about the threats. Let’s put it behind us. If you work for the Red Ribbon of your own free will we can-” he went silent as a red vortex surrounded his head, drawing away his breath, “ Haaagggk -!” 

“Someone like you shouldn’t be allowed to say the words ‘free will.’ This is for Bozo.”

Silver began to thrash.

Clark watched as the other Red Ribbon soldiers began to flee into the woods, before turning to look back at Silver and Tornado, only to flinch at the sight of Red Tornado using his powers to suffocate the Colonel just like he had been earlier. “You won! I think you can stop!” Clark shouted, rushing over. Red Tornado saw Clark approaching, and finally let up, leaving Silver on the ground. “Is he okay?” Clark asked. 

Red Tornado looked down, and then picked up Colonel Silver and slung him over his shoulder, “No need to worry about him,” the cyborg said, “I have very good control of my powers. Let me just set him down on one of the bunks.” 

Clark suppressed a shudder at the memory of his own experience with the vortex, before offering an awkward smile to the cyborg, “Sure. Good work.” 

When Red Tornado came back, sans Colonel Silver, the cyborg closed the door to the capsule house behind him and locked it shut. 

“That seemed to go well,” Clark said. 

“I… am free,” Red Tornado said, “I cannot express to you, child, how grateful I am. If there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all, please, tell me.” 

“You don’t owe me anything. We were helping each other,” Clark said, finding his bag on the ground and opening it up. He checked on the Dragon Ball first, and finding it undamaged, picked up his radar and hit the button. “Uh oh.” 

“What is it?” Red Tornado asked.

Clark pressed the button again. And then a second time, “Oh come on… I didn’t go an entire day without breaking it?” He asked, before letting his shoulders droop, “Bulma’s going to be mad at me.” Red Tornado leaned closer, staring at it, “You don’t happen to know anything about fixing mechanical things, do you Red Tornado?” 

“No, I’m afraid not, despite being mechanical myself,” Tornado considered the radar for a moment, “You were intending on searching for the Dragon Balls as well? Is there a wish you’d like to make?” 

Clark was about to reply in the negative, before stopping and looking up at the sky, at the clouds trailing by, “Actually… there is something I’d like to wish for. But I’m not sure how I’m going to find them without the radar. I’ll have to go back to Bulma and ask her to fix it.” He frowned, “If I can even get to her without Nimbus. I’ll have to walk to the nearest town, and then find a ship or something to take me to Santa Prisca… or would she have gone back to Metropolis by now?” he muttered.

Red Tornado considered him for a moment, “Are you planning on fighting the rest of the Red Ribbon, boy?” He blinked, “Now that I think about it, I never got your name.” 

“Oh, I’m Clark. Do you have a name, too? Like you gave Bozo?”

Red Tornado shook his head, “No. Just Red Tornado for now, I prefer at least that to Cyborg Four.” 

Clark nodded, “And as far as fighting Red Ribbon goes, I think I will. They’re not good people, they don’t know when to stop, and I already know how dangerous wishes on the Dragon Balls are.” 

“Then maybe I could suggest another plan, besides going to town and buying a ticket to Delaware,” Red Tornado walked a bit aways, and then picked up Silver’s capsule case. He opened it, and reached inside to draw out one marked #3, “During my time as part of the Red Robotics project, a number of scientists worked on us. The head scientist, Gero Morrow, was an amoral, terrible man, but one of his subordinates was always kind to us, in whatever ways he could. The Red Ribbon were forcing him to work for them by threatening his family.” 

Red Tornado threw the capsule, and in a burst of vapor a jet appeared, bearing the symbol of Red Ribbon. 

“Oh wow.” Clark stated, “Can you pilot it?” 

“Nope. But I’ve seen Colonel Silver enter in coordinates and turn on the autopilot, and my memory is literally photographic. I should be able to do the same,” Red Tornado walked up to the jet, and pressed the button to open the window so that they could get in the cockpit, “I know that the good scientist, Doctor Flappe, was sent to be part of General White’s group in Svalbard. He’s a genius with technology. I’m sure that if we helped rescue him, he’d be able to repair your radar. Better yet, we’d be near a Dragon Ball anyway, since that’s why General White and his forces are even there.” 

Clark grinned as he climbed into the plan, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Chapter Text

“Colonel Silver?” Commander Red growled. There was no reply on the other side of the line, simply the sounds of crashing glass, whistling wind, and fighting, “Silver, respond!” 

Everything went quiet, and Commander Red waited impatiently, “Silver, respond, or I’ll have you executed!” 

There was no answer. 

“Get me in contact with someone in Silver’s division, or heads are gonna roll!”

“Yes Commander!” one of his subordinates shouted. The control center of the Red Ribbon Army was a flurry of movement and shouting, as people coordinated the worldwide Dragon Ball hunt. As every radio in Silver’s camp was called, only to come back without an answer, Commander Red tensed up as he felt a presence behind him. He whipped around and glared at the young woman standing in his blindspot. 

“Captain Rose,” he stated, narrowing his eye, “What are you doing here?”

She was tall, with long, fluffy, white hair. She wore a jumpsuit that was divided cleanly down the middle. The left side of the jumpsuit was solid black and missing most of its leg, while the right half was solid orange. She had armored shoulderpads, and a belt studded with weapon capsules. Her eyes were a cold blue. 

“I was informed that something had happened regarding my father, and told to come here. What’s going on, Commander?” 

“ Something happened at Silver base and-” Commander Red began to explain.

“Sir!” one of the people sitting near a gigantic map of the world projected on a screen suddenly jumped out of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor, “Colonel Silver’s most recent Dragon Ball is moving!” 

Rose grinned, “Colonel Silver found the second ball already ? Maybe he should just handle the rest of the searching by himself, he’s the only one having any luck.” 

Commander Red rolled his eye, before waving her off, “Don’t stand so close to me.”

“Ah, yes, sorry Commander,” she said, taking a step farther away. 

“Where is the Dragon Ball heading?” Commander Red asked. 

“Sir, it’s heading Northeast.”

“Coming to HQ then, good. Maybe something happened to his communications.” 

“Er, no Commander. It seems to be making a direct line for General White’s base instead- It’s heading for Norway, not Markovia.” 

Rose walked past the Commander, approaching the screen, “How fast is it going?” she asked, “What kind of vehicle are they using?” 

“The Dragon Ball Radar isn’t precise. But the area giving off a signal is increasing faster than a hovercar can travel, Captain,” the operator said, looking up at her. 

“Has anyone tried contacting my father’s jet?” she asked. 

One of the other operators turned a dial, and then leaned in towards the mic, “Colonel Silver, report.”

“What- um, the Colonel isn’t…” the voice that came through was likely male, young and confused, caught off guard, but not especially worried. “...should I just-” the voice cut off as the plane’s radio was deactivated.

Staff Officer Gold leaned back in his own chair, putting his fingers together in front of him, “Ah. It’s obvious now. Cyborg Four went rogue, and is working with the prisoner Silver reported capturing. The metahuman boy with the more-accurate radar. They stole Silver’s plane, and are heading towards Norway on Cyborg Four’s advice,” Gold said casually, “Captain Rose, my dear, I’m afraid your father’s likely dead.”

Captain Rose flinched, glaring up at Gold, “Why do you think Tornado’s gone rogue? Why does that mean my father’s dead? It’s not that easy to kill the Terminator. And why Norway? It’s not the closest Dragon Ball to where they are now. In fact, they’re flying right past one of them now.” 

Gold shrugged, “The reason they’re heading for Svalbard is because Cyborg Four has friends at Stag Tower. To answer your other questions, as a scientist myself, I participated in much of the Red Robotics project, and I know who Red Tornado is at its core. Colonel Silver does as well. Leaving it in charge of restraining a child was a foolish mistake. And the moment Red Tornado no longer feared Silver is the moment that Silver dies.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of who Red Tornado is at its core,” Gold said simply, “You have my sympathies.” 

Rose bristled, before looking towards the Commander, “Sir?”

“Staff Officer Gold is usually right about these things,” Commander Red said, “Hmph. Captain Rose? You are now in command of Silver’s former division.” 

She went stiff at the shoulders, before giving a salute, “Yes sir, Commander Red, sir.” 

“At ease, Colonel Rose. Head to Colombia, investigate the area, and pick up your new brigade.” 

“Of course, Commander,” she marched out of the control center, stopping to glare at Officer Gold for only a moment before heading out to follow her orders. 

Red Commander waited until she left to sigh, “Too bad about Silver. Oh well, at least he got us one of the Dragon Balls before he died fighting a child ,” he shook his head, disappointed, and turned his attention towards the massive screen in front of him, “Get me General White.” 

Miles and miles away, over the atlantic ocean, Clark watched the world go by from behind a glass pane, even as the vehicle rumbled so loud he could barely hear. He missed the Nimbus. 

He had thought that this time, he would just grab his family’s Dragon Ball, and be done with the journey, but now he was thinking that thought might be a lost cause. First, Doctor Sivana was after it. Now, the Red Ribbon. The people who went searching for them next might be even worse.Would it ever be safe enough to just keep on their mantlepiece again?

Not to mention the temptation to use them. Already, he was planning on bringing Nimbus back from being destroyed. What if someone else he loved died? Someone one of his friends loved? There would be other things in the future that need fixing, and just wishing them fixed would be so easy. 

It was a lot of responsibility, now that he was thinking of it. 

“What would you wish for, Red Tornado?”

“My original body back,” Red Tornado said instantly.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s kind of a dumb question, isn’t it?” Was it worth the Dragon Balls’ power more than restoring Nimbus? Is it even a question of more or less worth?

“There’s no dumb questions, Clark,” Red Tornado said kindly, turning his head to watch Clark’s troubled expression, “That’s what I want, but some of the other Cyborgs aren’t as interested. Only two of us remember their old life, for the rest of us, this life under the Red Ribbon is all we know, and some of them have accepted it. But I haven’t.”

“How many cyborgs are there in your group?” 

“I heard that Cyborg Nine, whatever they’re going to be called, is almost finished, but at the moment, there’s seven of us.” 

“And they’re going to be trying to stop us,” Clark said “You wouldn’t happen to be the strongest of the bunch?” he asked, daring to be hopeful. 

“Oh, definitely not.” 

Clark slunk back in the seat, considering the sea ahead of them, “Great.”

DC Character + DB Character = Dragon Ball: Superman Character

• Red Ribbon Part 1: Silver’s Cyclone

• ??? + Commander Red = Commander Red

• ??? + Staff Officer Black & ??? = Staff Officer Gold

• Mister Mind + King Piccolo = Mister “Mind of Piccolo”

• Venus Sivana + Sho = Venus Sho

• Georgia Sivana + Paella = Paella Sivana

• Thaddeus Sivana Jr. + Paella = Thaddeus Sivana Jr.

• Deathstroke + Colonel Silver =  “Deathstroke the Terminator” | Colonel Silver

• Red Tornado + Red Ribbon Robot = Cyborg 4: Red Tornado

• Doctor Morrow & Doctor Ivo + Doctor Gero = Doctor Gero Morrow

• Bozo the Iron Man + Android One  = Cyborg 1: Red Ferro | Red Bozo

• Ravager + Hasky = Colonel Rose

Chapter Text

|R><R| Saga Act 2: WHITE’S STAG

“Clark, wake up.” 

“Mmh?” the boy slowly blinked up at the sky above him, visible through the glass cover of the jet’s cockpit. The sky had gone darker overhead while they flew. He leaned up out of his chair and winced at the sore spots. Sleeping in the back of a military plane wasn’t as comfortable as sleeping in the back of a luxury hovercar, as it turned out. 

“Good morning, Tornado.” 

“Not quite,” the cyborg replied, “But we’ll be nearing our destination soon. We don’t know what will be waiting for us when we do.” 

It would be a while longer before the snow-covered islands appeared in sight, and Clark found himself grinning. The plan, acting on its autopilot, began to slow down and descend, aiming for a spot in the distance which was slowly becoming more obvious. A massive tower stood out of the snow-covered landscape like a sore thumb. It was shaped like a barbell, with a wide round base,  a thinner cylindrical main body, and a wide final few levels. On the top of it, Clark could spot a landing pad. The plan was aiming for that pad in particular, when he noticed movement at the top of the tower. 

“Testing, testing, one two three~” came a sudden voice in the cockpit. The voice of an older man, and one that seemed outright gleeful.

“I thought we turned off the radio, are they trying to contact us again?” Clark asked. 

“That- that’s not… that’s not the plane’s radio,” Red Tornado stammered, going ramrod straight, “That’s my radio.” 

“Right you are!” the voice said, “I’m speaking to you through your remote , Cyborg Four.” 

“My remote was destroyed,” Red Tornado said, his voice shaking.

“Do you think we’d print off just one remote for each of you? Hah! As soon as I got word that you were heading here, I got headquarters to quickly ship me a spare one,” the voice coming out of Red Tornado’s body replied, “So, you know what that means. I press this big red button in front of me, and you go boom. Lucky for you, you two little troublemakers have got something I want . Something I don’t particularly want to damage with Red Tornado’s flaming corpse.” 

“My radar, and the Dragon Ball,” Clark said, wary. 

“Just so! Now, that plane’s on autopilot, and it’s going to land nice and easy on my roof. But when the doors open, the two of you can either be stupid, or be smart. The stupid thing you could do is whatever you were planning before. That leads to Red Tornado blowing up. The smart thing you could do is surrender as soon as you land.” 

Red Tornado turned to Clark, and reached up towards his own ear. Slowly, he grabbed it, and pulled on it slightly. With a gear-shifting noise, the ear suddenly shifted away from his head, revealing a space for a button. Red Tornado began to speak, “Hit the button, capsulize me.” 

“Capsulize- you can’t capsulize a living thing! It’ll kill it!” Clark protested. 

“Ah. It seems you two are stupid after all. Oh well, Red’ll just have to be satisfied with another Dragon Ball rather than it and the new radar. Goodbye, idiots.” the voice cut out, and a ticking noise could suddenly be heard inside Tornado’s chest. 

“I’m not alive ! Not to the capsules! That’s the point of the Red Robotics project! Capsulize me! ” Red Tornado ordered, “I can’t do it myself! And don’t let me back out until you have Doctor Flappe there and ready to remove the bomb, once I’m out, the timer will turn back on!” 

“But-” 

Tick tick tick tick

“ Now !” 

Clark reached out, closed his eyes, and pressed the button. In a burst of vapor he was alone in the plane. A capsule dropped into his hand, bearing the label “RRC04.”

He stared down at it, feeling a pit in his stomach. 

His friend- even if he only knew him for a day, at this point, -might be dead. Either by his own hand, through the capsule, or by the explosion that would happen the moment he was let out. He slipped the capsule into one of his pockets and took a shuddering breath before steeling himself. 

Red Tornado wasn’t afraid of being capsuled. He had to trust him. Red Tornado was trusting him to find Dr. Flappe, so he would have to do that, too.

Determined, he readied the Nyoibo in his hands, and waited for the plane to complete its flight towards the tower. Unfortunately, as it was drawing close, he saw a flare of light from the base and top of the tower- and a moment later the plane shook violently as it was peppered with bullets. Cracks appeared across the glass, the rumbling of the engines became a scream and the instruments on the console began to flash and beep noisily at him, warning him of the vehicle’s impending doom. 

Clark swore under his breath before leaping up towards the glass. His hands smashed into the top, and the cockpit’s cover shattered as he went soaring out into the air. The wind and the absolute blistering cold crashed into him as he was sent spinning through the air. As he fell, he was dimly aware of the jet spinning away and crashing into the nearest mountainside, sending up a spray of snow and fire. 

Clark hit the snow himself a few seconds later, crashing through the ice and powder. He went rolling down the hill, his body going into shock as the cold overwhelmed him, giving him flashbacks of his brief time outside of the Earth’s atmosphere.

He let out a shuddering breath, and watched as it formed a cloud as it left his mouth. He shivered as he stood up. He looked around him, but while he could see the tower in the distance, it looked like it would be a long, long, walk. He began to stomp towards it, but as he marched, the wind picked up and began to throw snow at him, filling his vision with white. He couldn’t see the tower, he could barely see his own arms in front of him. His teeth ached from chattering.

And then a hand, clad in a mitten, grabbed his own. 

He turned his head towards it in surprise, and saw that the mitton was attached to a body, wrapped in thick, warm, winter gear. He made out a blue parka, edged with white fur. The face under the hood was wearing goggles over their eyes and a scarf over their mouth, but he could see a few strands of bright red hair poking out from behind all the clothing. 

“Come with me,” she said. 

Clark didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

Another full-body shudder ran over him as he tried to stop the shaking of his limbs. His body felt unbearably hot and unbearably cold at the same time. The thick blanket that the girl had wrapped around him was a comfort, obviously, but the bone-deep ache of the powerful cold still left him shaking in place. 

Slowly, he heard footsteps approaching from outside, “How are you doing?” asked the voice of the girl who pulled him out of the cold, “Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” 

“Yeah,” He nodded shakily, and she headed in, smiling at him. The red-haired girl gave him a mug, and he leaned in closer, breathing in the comforting steam wafting off of it. Clark took a sip, and let out a deep sigh, “Thanks,” he said. 

“What were you doing out there without any winter gear? Did the Red Ribbon steal it and leave you there to freeze?”

“No, I just didn’t bring any with me at all when I came here,” he admitted. 

“Came? You mean you’re not from here?” 

“No.” 

Her eyes widened, “Then you must be from that plane they shot down.”

Clark nodded miserably. 

The girl leaned back, considering this, “You have rotten luck, to be flying over us right now. A few days ago, General White and the Red Ribbon arrived and made a big mess in town. Right after, they put up their awful tower and kidnapped the mayor. They’ve been holding him hostage to make all the men in town help them search for something out in the snowfields. I was trying to help out when I happened across you.” 

“Thank you, you probably saved my life.” 

“You’re welcome,” she said proudly.  

“What’s your name?” 

“Suno,” she said, grinning, “You?” 

“Clark.” 

“Good to meet you.” 

Clark breathed in more of the steam, and let out a long, more satisfied breath. “Do you have any winter gear you could lend me?” Clark asked, “I need to go back out there, and make it to the tower.” 

“What- you’re still half-frozen. You can’t go back out there. Besides, if you get close to the tower, they’ll just shoot you! What do you even need there?” 

“I have a friend who’s… sick. And unless I can free the doctor they have stuck in the tower, he’s going to die. While I’m there, I’ll try to help your mayor, too.”

“What are you going to do? You’re just a kid.” 

“I’m a teenager,” he corrected, “And anyway, I’m a metahuman stronger than the average person. I’ve fought Red Ribbon soldiers before, and shrugged off bullets. I just… can’t really fight the cold .” 

Suno frowned at him, suspicious, “I didn’t drag you all the way back home just for you to run out to get yourself killed just as soon as I’ve thawed you out.”

“I’m not going to get myself killed-” 

She rolled her eyes, “The whole village already decided that the best thing would be to just do as they say and not make any trouble. Once they have whatever they came for, they’ll leave, and nobody else will have to get hurt.” 

“Somehow, I doubt Red Ribbon is the honorable type,” Clark sighed, “Suno, I can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before they realize I didn’t go down with the plane, and they come here looking for me. They didn’t blow up my plane just because it happened to be passing by, they blew it up because they’re trying to kill me.” 

The girl’s eyes got wider, “Why are they after you?” 

“Do you know what they have Red Ribbon searching for?” 

She nodded, “Some kind of valuable gemstone. A meteorite, they said. It would have fallen from the sky somewhere around here a year ago.” 

Clark stood up, and shuffled over to where his bag was lying on the ground. Clark reached inside and took out the Dragon Ball. 

“This is what they’re looking for.” 

“Then- we should give it to them! They’ll leave! Maybe you could trade it for your doctor.” 

He shook his head, “Sorry, that wouldn’t work. There are seven of these. One of them fell here, and this one fell somewhere else. Red Ribbon is after all of them. They’re not going to let your village go until they have the one that landed here, too.” 

She looked down at the ball, conflicted, “You’re going to go out there whether I help you or not, aren’t you.” 

“Yeah.” 

She sighed, “Fine. Just wait here, I’ll get you something your size.” 

Clark grinned, “Thank you,” He took another gulp of his hot cocoa.

Chapter Text

Clark pulled on the gloves last of all, strapping them in around the sleeves of his coat. He didn’t like having his movements restricted like this, but he was warm, so the tradeoff was worth it. He was worried about how well he’d be able to fight in it, but once he reached the tower proper, there’d presumably be heating inside. 

Reaching up, he adjusted his goggles before turning towards Suno, “How do I look?” 

She giggled, “Like me, a year ago. I’m glad that my older stuff fits you.”

He tried not to take offense to the fact that clothes that the girl younger than him had outgrown fit him perfectly. The two stepped out into the snow, and Clark sucked in a crisp, cold, breath, before letting it out again as a cloud of steam. Nearly freezing to death hadn’t been fun, of course, but now that he was equipped to handle the cold, he found that he enjoyed it. There was something in the air, this far north, this close to the sea, that was just plain refreshing. 

He looked out at the town, and then at the snow-covered mountains behind it. Without the biting winds, the place was beautiful, too. 

“Come on,” Suno said, taking the lead. 

“Wait,” he said suddenly. 

She turned around, a puzzled expression on what little he could see of her face, as he fished around in his bag for one of his few capsules. In a little burst of vapor, his camera appeared. 

Suno put her hands on her hips, “Is this really the best time for that? I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I just want to remember what this place looks like. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back here again,” he snapped his picture, capturing his helpful new friend, the town, and the crisp white landscape. He sent the capsule back, and hurried to catch up with her. 

The pair trekked near the edge of town, until Clark went tense at the sight of a threat. Standing near the road out of town was a man wearing a thick brown coat, a soldier’s helmet, and a red ribbon tied around one arm. He was holding a gun in his hand, visibly following wish his head every person or vehicle that came or went. 

“Was he there before?” Clark asked, nervously, “Should we head in a different direction?” The Nyoibo was sitting in his pocket, shrunk down, and he found himself reaching into his pocket to grab it if need be. 

“Don’t be so tense. Just relax,” Suno chided, “I managed to sneak you in when the snowstorm was stronger, but I don’t need to sneak you out. Just follow my lead.” She sped up her pace a bit, and Clark had no choice but to keep up. 

As they came close to him, the guard turned his gaze on them, “Women, children, and elderly are to stay inside the village,” he said gruffly, turning his gun towards them. Clark went tense, his hands curling into fists so tightly they began to strain his mittens. 

“We just want to help our Dad look for the meteor,” Suno said, staring nervously at the gun, “Doesn’t every extra person out there looking help? Maybe if we find it, everything will go back to normal.” 

The gun remained focused on them for another long few seconds, before the man suddenly jerked forwards, “Boo!”  Clark flinched, grabbing Suno and dragging her back even as he stepped forwards to put himself between them. 

The guard began laughing, “Stupid brats. Fine. Remember, as soon as we get the orange ball with the red stars, all the men can stop looking, and we’ll let the mayor go. So look hard .” He threatened. 

Suno hurried ahead, dragging Clark behind her. They pushed out of the town and hurried down the road. They followed it deeper into the island, cutting between mountains and out onto the snow plains. In the distance, Clark could make out the tower once more. Suno came to a stop, staring ahead at the eyesore sticking out of the earth. She looked towards Clark, and then back at the tower, “We can’t get any closer without being suspicious,” she said, “Are you really sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to get killed.”

Clark smiled, and then pulled the Nyoibo from his pocket, and made it extend to its normal length. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a grin. He jammed the pole into the earth in front of him, and then willed it to extend. Clark surged into the air, pulled higher and higher. When he reached the point Suno could barely see him, he yanked on the pole, freeing it from the ice and retracting it again as he let himself drop closer to the tower.

Suno watched, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he sailed through the sky hundreds of feet, before crashing back onto the snow plain nearby the foot of the tower in an explosion of powder. 

For a few moments, she was terrified that he had already gotten himself killed with his own showing off when a figure in the familiar blue of her parka emerged from the snow. She flinched as the tower seemed to come alive, spotlights turning to illuminate Clark, men on the ramparts running to their mounted guns and turning to aim. The soldiers at its base suddenly shifted from idleness to action, moving to confront the teen only to get knocked aside in a flourish and flash of the power pole. 

There were flashes as the tower’s own guns began to fire at him, but she watched,  as a tiny figure of blue and red kept on moving, either ignoring or dodging everything the guns could throw at him. In a single leap, assisted with the Nyoibo, she watched as Clark threw himself over the base of the tower and landed behind the ramparts.

The guns stopped firing, Clark vanished from view, but the tower seemed to remain on high alert, the spotlights desperately trying to focus on its own base, following chaos invisible to Suno from where she stood. 

She was starting to feel a bit hopeful about this, all of a sudden.

Chapter Text

“Is that you, boy?” came a voice over the speakers. 

Clark let go of the shirt of the Red Ribbon soldier he had just knocked out, letting the man drop to the floor bonelessly. 

“I spoke to you before,” Clark acknowledged, “You’re the guy who tried to blow up Red Tornado!”

“Tried, eh?” the voice laughed, “Well, I did something , because I don’t see him with you right now. By the way kid, I like your moves! I’ve been in need of some entertainment. This whole ‘General’ thing isn’t all it's cracked up to be.” 

Clark grit his teeth, sneering at the nearest speaker, “Who are you?” 

“My name, why it’s Sim- oh. Ugh. Right, nearly forgot. Codenames. You can call me General ‘White’. Honestly, when I became one of the Red Ribbon’s largest investors, I didn’t know I’d be expected to start playing at being a James Bond villain. But I guess that’s the price of wanting a slice of the world domination pie. Speaking of villainy… welcome to my lair , kid. Say hello to Stag Tower. That’s with one ‘G’, by the way. Like the animal.”

Clark raced towards the next group of soldiers that were charging at him from around the rim of the tower. One of them, smarter than the rest, threw down a capsule for a rocket launcher rather than try to go after Clark with the peashooters that he could deflect with a spin of the Nyoibo. 

When the missile sailed towards him, he jumped over it, kicking off the rocket as it passed underneath him and sending it crashing down into the floor behind him in an explosion that made his ears ring. The soldiers stared at him in horror, before getting swept off the side of the tower with a pass of the power pole. He lifted himself over the edge to see where they landed in the snow, and content they’d live, kept moving. 

“Tell me, why are you here? You’re hunting the Dragon Balls, same as us, aren’t you? If so, your time would be better spent out in the snow looking for it.  And if I didn’t blow up Red Tornado, you’re likely not here out of simple vengeance. So, why the frontal assault?” General White pressed over the speakers.

“I’ve got my reasons,” Clark shouted, swinging the Nyoibo at the next pair of soldiers to come around the corner. Between them, they were carrying a massive, heavy-looking rifle. A dangerous-looking one that he decided they wouldn’t be firing. He caught one of them in the stomach, eliciting a loud hacking cough, before he closed the distance and kicked another in the leg hard enough to bring him crashing down. As he came close, he grabbed the rifle by the barrel and squeezed down, warping the metal and making the gun useless. 

Moving on, he stopped in front of a door, and was about to sheath the Nyoibo and try to force his way through with his hands, when it opened with a click. 

“Come in, and know me better man!” the voice of General White declared. 

Clark knew that this was likely a trap, but he was going to have to search the tower for the people he wanted to rescue, no matter the circumstance, and one entryway was about as good as any other. He shoved it open with the end of his staff, and ducked back as the rattling of gunfire filled the doorway. He waited until it petered out for a bit before psyching himself up, and then charging inside as fast as he possibly could. The world around him seemed to almost slow down as he forced himself to move as fast as he had to against Krillin.

He rapidly whipped his face towards every corner of the room, taking in the armed soldiers ready and waiting for him. All of them were obviously well-trained  as well, with honed bodies, strong muscles, and the expressions of anticipation of a real fight on their faces. These were not merely goons with guns, these were fighters. 

All of them had machine guns pointed towards the door. As soon as he appeared, even as fast as he was, all they had to do was pull their triggers. 

He threw himself to the floor and slid a ways, letting the bullets pass overhead, as he came to a stop under a table. He kicked out at one of the wooden legs, shattering it and making the table unbalance and drop down in front of him like a shield just before the next wave of bullets started striking. 

Wooden splinters rained down all around him as they filled the air of the room with bullets. 

Breathing in, he raised his head just enough to peek through one of the bullet holes, noting where the nearest soldier was. Bracing his shield with the Nyoibo, he urged the pole to extend, and smiled in satisfaction as his growing staff carried the table along with it as it raced towards the nearest guard. 

It crashed into the man, catching him off guard, and the other men in the room looked at him in surprise, stopping their firing for a moment. Clark took advantage of this immediately, jumping to his feet and running for the next soldier, holding out his arm and catching him in a haymaker before racing to the next, taking him out with a knockout punch to the jaw he stole from Bruce Wayne’s book, and then just outright tackling the next few guards. 

Soon, the room was a mess of unconscious bodies and destroyed tables.

Watching through a camera, the general grinned in delight, “Excellent showing! I can see how he managed to put down Silver.” He turned to the side as a door opened behind him, and a Japanese man with his hair done up in a topknot walked through, tugging at the red bandanna wrapped around one arm. A recent addition to his otherwise violet uniform, “Ah, Captain Purple, nice to see you. I have footage of our intruder. Come take a look.” 

Murasaki, now “Captain Purple”, came forwards and leaned in closer to look at the screen, before freezing in shock. 

General White noticed his reaction, “Do you know him?” 

“That boy is one of the ones responsible for the arrest of my students and myself.” 

“Ooh, a personal grudge. Fun. Would you like me to have Red Bravado on the third level stand down? That way you could take him out yourself on level four,” White offered. 

Murasaki swallowed, “That boy is no ordinary human. He’s received the training of the legendary Son Gohan. His senses are sharper. His strength is greater. Guns and blades will do nothing but annoy him. I’m… not sure how well Red Bravado will do against him.”

“That may all be true,” General White said, “But even if he’s a little stronger than normal, he’s still mortal . Weak flesh and blood. Tell me, did you ever hear the story of Paul Bunyan? It’s one of my favorites.” 

“I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s an American folktale. Paul Bunyan was a lumberjack, a woodsman, one with enormous strength, greater than any other man. No one could beat his strength, that is, until an aspiring entrepreneur with his shiny new invention came along. Paul Bunyan was challenged to a contest, a race to see who could cut down more trees in the same time, him with his super-strength and his metal axe, or the inventor with his new steam-powered saw.” 

“I assume that the machine defeated him?” 

“Of course !” General White declared.

“What is the moral of the story?”

“It’s an American folktale, Purple, the moral, obviously, is that the power of capitalism is unbeatable! That machine decimated that forest like one man with an axe never could. That’s progress, Purple, extracting everything you can get from anything you can reach, squeezing money out of every opportunity available, and using the wealth you make to conquer and dominate as much of the world as you can and keep growing that wealth! That’s the idea America was founded on. And more than that, that’s the idea that Red Ribbon stands for !”

Murasaki didn’t say anything, ignoring the General’s rant and simply watching as Clark began making his way up the stairs on the screen.

“Paul Bunyan couldn’t match a machine designed to do his job, but better, despite being a super-powered freak, and this brat is going to end up the same way when he sees what I have in store for him,” General White said gleefully, “He’s about to see first-hand my magnum opus: the worker of the future.” He reached out and switched the perspective of the camera, focusing on level three. “Cyborg Two, you have a guest!” General White called through the intercom.

Chapter Text

Clark took off his parka as he made his way up the stairs to the next level, only to find it seemingly abandoned. The only thing there was a single massive chair, parked in front of a small television. Sitting in it, watching the TV, was a gigantic man. The only human Clark had ever seen close to the man in size was the Ox King- and that wasn’t the only thing they had in common either. They had similar features; the same wide nose, incredibly thick brow, and far-too-broad shoulders, and hairy faces.

He was wearing sunglasses over his eyes, which reflected the flashing lights of the television. He wore combat boots, thick green military pants, gloves that covered his truly massive hands, and a heavily armored vest that left his thick muscular arms exposed. The top of his head was covered in carefully trimmed and combed back black hair. Around one arm was tied a red bandanna, and on each shoulder was a tattoo of the number two. 

“Cyborg Two! Red Bravado! You have a guest. A guest! Get up! Fight the intruder!” General White roared over the intercom. 

The man stayed in his chair, watching the show. 

“Cyborg Two- Ugh . Java?” General White groaned. 

At that, the giant lifted his head, “Yes, Mister Stagg?” 

“Take down the brat!” 

At that, the giant, Java, turned to look at Clark, and pointed a hand his way, “Him? The small fry? You want me to fight him?” 

“Yes!” 

“The kid ?” Java asked, raising one large furry eyebrow over his sunglasses. 

“Yes, the kid!” 

“I’m… just going to keep going up?” Clark offered, walking past Java and heading for the stairwell. 

“Why do you want me to fight a kid?” Java asked, getting up out of the chair. In a burst of speed that caught Clark off guard, the gigantic man was suddenly in between Clark and the stairwell, but the giant’s attention wasn’t on him, but on the speakers, “I mean, what’s he going to do? ‘Sides, I don’t think Sapphire would be proud of me for hitting a kid.” 

“He defeated dozens of soldiers already, he’s no mere child! Look, you don’t have to kill him. Just knock him out so we can interrogate him later.” 

“Hmmm…” 

Clark looked up at Java, and narrowed his eyes, “Wait, are you a cyborg like Red Tornado? But- he was all made of metal and you look…” well, he didn’t look normal , exactly, “Like you’re flesh and blood.” 

“Oh, you know Red Tornado?” Java asked, looking down at him, “Haven’t seen him in a bit.” 

“General White tried to kill him,” Clark said. 

“Who?” Java asked. 

“He means me,” General White said over the intercom, “I’m getting tired of explaining this over and over, Java, I told you, once we joined Red Ribbon, we had to start using their codenames. I’m General White, and you’re Cyborg Two or Red Bravado.” 

“But I’m Java,” the massive man complained, “Why do I need three names?” 

“Are you… one of the two who can still remember their lives before they became cyborgs?” Clark asked.

“He’s also the reason why we erase the memories of our cyborgs now. Makes arguments like these easier,” General White muttered.

“Yeah, I remember,” Java agreed, “I’m a caveman. I ended up freezing solid while I was fighting some wolves in a river, but Mister Stagg found my body in a block of ice a long time after. Then, he and Red Ribbon brought me back to life, but with lots of metal inside me,” he grinned wide, bearing his fangs, “It’s pretty cool. Right?” 

“...Are all the cyborgs originally frozen cavemen?” Clark asked, bewildered.

“No, just me.” 

“Java! Shut up and fight him, or I’m activating the bomb!” General White finally roared with anger.

At that, Java’s expression fell, and he sighed in irritation, “Fine, Mister Stagg.” 

“ General Stagg! Ergh, now you’ve got me doing it. It’s General White ! General White!” 

Java shook his head at the tantrum, before turning his attention back to Clark, “Lots of things are better now, after I was revived, but one thing that always annoys me is how complicated people have to make things now. So many names, so many rules, so many steps to every little thing. I prefer when things are simple.” He smiled pleasantly, and then thrust his fist towards Clark.

The teen leaped back, and winced as the heavy hand crashed into the floor hard enough to shake the entire room. When he pulled back, there was a fist-shaped dent etched into the steel. 

“I knock you out, I don’t get blown up. Simple.”

Clark swung the power pole forwards, only to have Java stick out his hand to grab it as it came. He caught the pole without a wince or a flinch, the impact doing no damage at all. To Clark’s surprise, the man then lifted the Nyoibo up into the air, leaving Clark dangling off the end of it. Java flicked his wrist, and Clark went flying towards the wall, bouncing off the metal and rolling across the floor. 

As he got up, he caught sight of Java holding the pole without any strain in one hand. The display of raw strength was intimidating all on its own, until Clark found himself going wide-eyed as the Nyoibo began to change shape in the caveman’s grip, getting longer and thicker, until it practically resembled a piece of timber. 

“Oh!” Java said appreciatively, swinging the Nyoibo in a test, “I like this weapon!” he grinned at Clark, “It’s mine now.” 

“Oh no it’s not!” Clark protested, dashing the distance between them and lashing out with a kick to the cyborg’s chest. Java stumbled back from the force of it, but didn’t make a sound of complaint or show the least discomfort afterwards. Instead, he simply swung the tree-sized Nyoibo at Clark like a hammer, crashing it down on top of him. 

Clark threw his arms straight up and caught the blow of the massive weapon in his hands rather than on his head, and let out a cry of pain as his entire body shook under the strain. The floor beneath his feet groaned as the metal warped and cracked. 

Then, all at once, the weight was lifted away, and Clark could relax- just in time to catch the second hammer blow. They rained down, one after the other, until the metal below him finally gave in and the floor tore, dropping Clark through the ceiling back down into the second level. 

“Gah! Don’t break my tower you idiots !” General White protested. 

Java ignored the command, and with a thought, the Nyoibo shrunk in his grip. He dropped it through the hole that Clark made, and then let it extend again, the butt of the staff racing down through the air towards where Clark landed. 

But this time, the delay between blows was long enough for Clark to get a grip on himself, and reach out with just one hand. As the Nyoibo made impact with his outstretched arm, he reached out with his own will- and urged the power pole to shrink. He grabbed onto it, and all at once the second level soared past him as he ascended back towards the hole in the floor, and found himself once more dangling from the staff while it was in Java’s hand. 

Using his new position, Clark swung himself up at the giant’s face, legs first. 

Chapter Text

The massive form of Java made the room shake as he crashed into the floor. His arms went flying off to the sides in a desperate attempt to catch himself, but all he succeeded in doing was send the Nyoibo clattering to the other end of the room. 

Clark dropped to the floor, breathing hard, and grinned at the fallen form of the former caveman. Then, he looked over to where his weapon laid, and put on a disappointed face, “I thought you only liked me and Gohan,” he accused it, before picking up the Nyoibo. It didn’t reply, of course. Still smiling, he slipped it into its sheath on his back, and approached Java, only to flinch back as the man’s gargantuan fist sailed out and caught him in the chest- the man’s hand was nearly the size of Clark’s torso, and the blow landed like a hammer.

Clark bounced off a wall, leaving another crack, and Java lifted one mighty foot, ready to bring it crashing down on the teen where he landed. Clark guarded his face, and let out a hiss of pain as the boot crashed down on top of him. 

Java stepped back, and considered the teen. 

“You’re still conscious even after all that,” Java said, surprised and a little impressed, “I guess I’m gonna have to stop holding back.” 

Clark didn’t like the sound of that. He got to his feet, and tried to make some distance between them, but Java made no move to follow, simply crossing his arms over his chest and standing up straighter than before. He leaned back, breathing in deeply through his nose- and then he suddenly jerked forwards with his entire body, swinging his arms back, and forcing something up through his gullet and out through his mouth. 

It raced across the distance between them in an instant, spewing smoke and fire, and Clark shot to the side, flickering out of the way just in time to avoid the blast. It collided with the wall opposite him and blew a hole clear through to the outside, letting in the freezing cold. 

Java turned his head, and stared at where Clark was standing, before grinning proudly and putting his hands on his hips, “Whaddya think?” he asked. 

Clarks smiled wide, “I’ve got something like that too.” 

“Let’s see it!” 

Clark placed his arms to the side, and began to gather energy. Flickering white light appeared between his palms, concentrating and shading a green-blue. “Kamehameha!” 

He thrust his arms forwards, and the energy sailed in a blast towards the tall form of Java. The caveman let out a surprised scream of shock as it slammed into him, knocking him backwards and burning away at his clothes. The blast of light covered the entire upper torso of the caveman.

When Clark lowered his arms, he grinned for a moment before dread suddenly hit him in the stomach, instantly pushing away his joy at the fight. 

Java staggered backwards, his clothes not the only things blown away by the blast. Much of his upper torso’s skin was gone as well, revealing metal underneath. His face, similarly, was burned away, leaving nothing but a metallic neanderthal skull, the only bones that were a natural white were his teeth, everything else made of silver. Sitting in the two large eye sockets were gleaming red cameras. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Clark asked, stepping forwards, hesitating.

Java slowly reached up with one giant hand, feeling his face. His fingers traced along his metallic bones, and then moved past the hole where his nose should have been. 

“Huh,” Java said, his voice slightly different without lips.

The cyborg turned his eerie attention on Clark, the artificial red eyes whirring as they focused on him. Java lifted one hand towards Clark, and formed it into a fist. 

“Ahm gonna kill you,” he slurred, unable to form some of the correct sounds without lips. The fist suddenly launched forwards in an explosion of light, and sailed towards Clark like a missile. The teen was hit dead on, and Clark stumbled back, shocked, before letting the gigantic fist drop to the ground in front of him. 

He looked up at Java, and found the cyborg advancing, his other fist lifted. Clark moved to brace himself- when a sound rumbled from inside the cyborg’s chest. A bell. The cyborg lowered his hand again, turning his glare away from Clark. “Ah neherr mindt,” he slurred, turning away and taking one slow rumbling step after another towards the television. Clark watched, wary, as Java stopped in front of his chair, and then dropped down to sit in it, training the red cameras on the screen. A moment later, the cyborg’s head lolled to the side, and the red lights began to flicker. 

The intercom crackled to life, and General White let out a sigh, “You managed to outlast him. A pity. But then again, he is the older model. The battery life isn’t quite so good. A problem we’ve overcome in the newer models, as you’ve no doubt seen for yourself with our departed Red Tornado. Go on, ascend to the next floor. I have something even better waiting for you.” 

Clark grimaced at the speakers. He turned around, and walked closer to where Java was sitting. Guilt tugged at Clark, but he said nothing to the cyborg as he sat there, staring at the TV and either ignoring Clark, or too out of it to pay attention to him. 

“...Sorry,” he said, “Maybe, once I rescue the doctor, and after he helps Red Tornado… he could do something for you?” 

Java said nothing, either unhearing or uncaring. The red cameras didn’t twitch.

Clark looked away, before shivering in the cold. His eyes flicked to the busted-open wall.

Reminded, he went back to the stairs and grabbed Suno’s old parka. It was marred by a few bullet wounds, so he figured she wouldn’t be wanting it back. He had been thinking he could just grab it again when he came back down with the people he was rescuing. Instead, he spread it out and draped the parka over some of Java’s chest and shoulder, covering as much of the exposed metal as possible.

Offering the caveman who had given him a good fight, and who was worthy of the Nyoibo one last smile, he turned to the stairs and began making his way up to the fourth level. 

Chapter Text

Clark was glad to feel the air getting warmer as he reached the fourth floor. As he cleared the top of the steps, he looked out across the level and found an entire forest waiting for him. The center of the floor was filled with trees, but sitting off to the side, near the stairs, was a small Japanese-style house next to a little pond. 

He blinked in surprise at the unexpected sight, and took a few steps forwards. As he moved away from the stairwell he hopped up a short step, and realized that, sure enough, someone had put down a lot of dirt on this floor to support all of this. 

“Kind of like the indoor zoo at Capsule Corp. But why is it like this?” 

“Simple,” said a familiar voice from somewhere in the woods, “There are perks that come with collaboration with one of the greatest military forces, and largest companies, in the world. A small taste of home to be brought along with you as you travel being merely one of them.” 

Clark’s eyes went wide, “Purple Brothers!” he called, “Kon’s family!” 

“Hello, student of Son Gohan,” came the voice, echoing strangely through the woods. 

“You’re supposed to be in prison!” 

“The Crab Shell’s perfect record, broken,” the voice said proudly, “Just like your win streak.” 

Clark tensed, and jumped to the side just as a bat-shaped boomerang sailed through the air and lodged into the earth next to him, cutting deep into the dirt. He heard a whistle in the air and slapped aside a dart. A sickle on the end of a chain came flying out of the woods, and he quickly caught it, only to be forced to drop the weapon as a gun fired off from the opposite direction, aiming for his hand. 

“Enter our forest if you dare. This level has been crafted with no expense spared to be the ultimate hunting ground for the Bat Clan. Nobody may enter or leave save by our allowance. You owe us a debt, Gohan’s student. And it’s one you will pay with your life!”

“I fought you all before,” Clark said, slowly turning his head and taking in the forest, “What’s going to make this any different?” 

“You had allies last time. This time, you are alone. You took us by surprise, last time, but this time, you are in our domain, and we are the ones who have had time to prepare. This fight will go quite differently.”

“Is Kon with you?” 

“Perhaps he is, and perhaps he isn’t.” 

Clark closed his eyes, and focused. It was difficult, without the Dragon Fang to amplify the feeling, but for someone as powerful as Kon, he would stand out. Vaguely, he sensed a number of living things all around him. At the very edges of his sensation was a slowly growing power below him- Java, slowly recovering -and two other large powers somewhere above. Maybe General White himself? 

But closer, in the space in front of him? 

Four fainter powers. Stronger than the average man, but not superhuman. 

When he opened his eyes, he knew where they were. Clark threw himself forwards and raced into the forest. Around him, there were flashes of steel and whistling in the air as weapons and projectiles raced towards him, but he simply outsped them, charging ahead. He came to a tree and didn’t stop, latching onto the bark with his fingers the moment he came into reach and flinging himself up into the canopy. He burst through the leaves, and found himself face-to-face with a purple-garbed figure. He had a small tube raised halfway to his lips, and a dart in his hand. 

“Hey there. Aka right?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

Clark headbutted him, knocking the man out, and then snatched the tube to crush it in his hand. Aka tumbled out of the tree and hit the forest floor moments before bullets and razor-sharp boomerangs started thunking into the branches all around him. 

Listening for the tell-tale sounds of a gun, he raced off towards Cha.

He leaped from tree to tree, into and out of the leaves, dodging everything that came at him. The truth was, the ninjas, just as before, were outclassed. He dove in towards Cha just as the other ninja was moving to escape, crashing down on the man with an outstretched leg. The kick smashed into the man’s back, sending him flat to the floor. Clark hopped off, and then waited for Cha to stand back up before punching him in the jaw, Bruce-style, and putting him to sleep. 

“Murasaki! Nao!” Clark called, “Come on out!” 

To his surprise, they did. The pair of ninjas suddenly zipped out of the forest from two different directions, with Clark in the middle. Spread between them was the chain of Nao’s weapon. 

Clark, caught off guard, didn’t react in time. The ninjas shot past him, running at full speed, and the chain slammed into him at the neck, dragging him with them. The pair ran past a large tree on opposite sides, slamming Clark back-first into the bark. There, they pulled the chain taut, pressing down on his neck and pulling him harder and harder against the trunk. 

He tried to suck in a breath, but found he couldn’t. As he moved to try and grab at the chain, snap it with his hands, Nao and Murasaki appeared once more, on opposite sides than before, and each grabbed one of his arms, holding him in place as he suffocated. 

Each ninja kept a strong grip on his arms, putting their entire bodies into restraining him from freeing himself. At the same time, he tried to thrash, but pressed back so hard against the tree, he dind’t have much leverage. Every motion just pushed the chain harder against his neck. He let out a harsh cough and then another, fighting but unable to break free. “Shhh,” Murasaki whispered, despite the strain in his voice as he struggled, sweating, to hold Clark’s arm out, “Shhhhh. Give in, relax. Things will be easier if you just let yourself go.” 

Clark grit his teeth, before kicking out with one of his legs, and then slamming it into the tree behind him, heel-first. 

There was an audible crunching of wood.

Nao and Murasaki shared a frightened look. 

Clark threw his legs forwards, both of them this time, and then swung them as hard as he could back against the wood. There was more crunching, and the entire tree began to groan. 

Furious, Clark forced out a choked snarl, and did this a third time. The tree began to tip forwards, and the pair of ninja both jumped back to make space, letting the gigantic tree topple forwards. Its branches caught that of another tree across from it, and the lumber halted its fall at an angle. Clark, groaning in pain, used his now-free hands to break the chain, and fell to the grass, breathing hard. 

He had gotten confident, and then Nao got him with the chain again . 

Struggling to his feet, he grabbed the half of the chain attached to the weight, rather than to the sickle, and tugged it off the tree. Carrying it with him, he followed their scent and made his way towards the little Japanese house.

Nao and Murasaki were hiding inside, their hearts racing. Over their shoulders, they carried the other two unconscious members of their brotherhood. The pair exchanged a look, mentally debating their options. The elder ninja glanced towards a poster of a blonde woman in a bikini. Nao followed his gaze, and then shook his head, instead turning his eyes out the window, and towards the stairway. 

The silent debate went on another moment, before Nao bowed his head to his master, but still looking conflicted about it. Murasaki darted for the poster, lifting it up and revealing a small wooden panel hidden behind it. He pushed on it, and frigid air suddenly filled the house. 

In Murasaki’s opinion, they had joined the Red Ribbon Army because they happened across an opportunity. If the payout was big enough, then it would be worth it. But if the same child who brought them down before could bring down the Red Ribbon’s soldiers, war machines, and little science experiments as well? The Red Ribbon weren’t going to get far, and the army’s going to have bigger problems than going after a couple of new recruits who just deserted. 

Murasaki ripped off his own red bandanna, and then Aka’s as well. 

Nao, however, hesitated after taking off Cha's ribbon. He watched his teacher slip out of their secret exit, dropping down into the frigid environment of the Norwegian island with his brother in tow. Mentally debating with himself, he slid Cha out the doorway, and watched his master catch his older brother on the level far below. 

Murasaki, burdened with two of his pupils, looked up in confusion, and silently gestured for Nao to follow. 

Nao, however, closed the door and set the poster back down, backing off. 

He didn’t remove his own bandanna. 

Kon had been the eldest of them, and the best of Murasaki’s pupils. And when he separated from his master he went on to improve himself, he became stronger. Perhaps now it was time for Nao to strike off on his own too. Perhaps Master Murasaki was holding him back. The Red Ribbon Army might just conquer the world. And when they happened, Nao would be one of its top agents. 

Gohan’s student may be terrifying, but he wasn’t invincible. The cyborg downstairs nearly did it. He and his master nearly did it with a bit of chain. 

In Nao’s opinion, this fight was still one he could win. He just needed a little help. 

Chapter Text

Nao was about to turn around and head for the back door, when the front door of the house suddenly came crashing inwards in an avalanche of ripped paper and splintered wood. Nao shrieked in surprise, before darting back and seeing the weight of his own weapon tear through the entryway. 

Gohan’s student stood in the wreckage of the door, his eyes sharp and focused on the ninja in front of him. 

“Where’d your teacher go?” 

“He fled,” Nao said, reaching for the sword at his back, “But I, Nao- no! I, Captain Indigo , remain loyal to the Red Ribbon Army!” 

He threw down a smoke bomb, and flung himself back out of the house, running and leaping towards the staircase. Indigo ran up, taking it two steps at a time, before reaching the observation platform near the top of the fourth level, and came to a screeching halt in front of a cage placed there. His eyes turned to the console nearby, and he walked over, grabbing a small black box with only two buttons on it and an antenna sticking out the front, with the number eight printed on the back.

The gray button activated the microphone inside the remote, which would deliver his orders to the machine. The red button activated the bomb inside the robot, a threat to ensure that it followed those orders to the letter. 

He pressed the gray button, and moved the remote close to his mouth, “Cyborg Eight, we have an intruder. Deal with him!” 

He heard his own voice crackle through the radio inside the cyborg through the bars of the cage door. Then, he heard the sound of mechanical limbs shifting and moving. The darkness inside the cage was banished as red light began to pour out of the bars. He smiled as one of the Red Ribbon’s greatest weapons walked up to the bars of his cell, and peered over at him with one eye that was a shining red cybernetic, and one that was a deep brown. 

Indigo threw a lever, and the door to the cage lifted upwards, releasing the cyborg. 

He was armored from neck to toe in red-painted steel with silver highlights. On various parts of his body there were clear domes that glowed with a pulsing red light. The number eight was printed on both shoulders in silver, and the Red Ribbon symbol glowed on his chest. However, his head, or at least almost three quarters of it, was human. He had a young face, with dark brown skin and short curly black hair. Silver steel encased the bottom of his chin, the back of his neck, and the left side of his skull and forehead. Where the left eye should be was another of the glass domes, glowing with the same pulsing red light as the others. 

Cyborg Eight stood taller than six feet, larger than Indigo, and the creation of mad science frowned down at him. “My name isn’t Cyborg Eight,” he said, narrowing his organic eye. 

“Ah, yes, Red Dynamo , go-” 

“That’s not it either,” the cyborg said, cutting him off. 

Indigo gaped at him, before letting fury cloud his expression, “Don’t be difficult Eight. You know what I’m holding in my hand,” he said, waggling the remote at him, “Follow my orders, or die.” 

“You’re not gonna kill me,” he replied back, taking a threatening step towards the ninja, “You need me to control Doctor Flappe.”

“Just try me, robot!” Indigo sneered, putting his thumb visibly over the red button. 

The two glared at each other, neither taking a step back, when the confrontation was interrupted by Clark reaching the top of the stairs and staring between the two of them. The cyborg blinked at Clark in surprise, before anger filled his face, the red light burning brighter under the surface of the glass, “Is this the intruder? You want me to kill kids, now?” 

Indigo began backing up as the glow built up hotter and hotter, the engine inside the cyborg, the one that earned him the title of Red Dynamo, had kicked  into higher gear. 

“First you turn me into this. Then you have me kidnap that old man, and then help you take over an island full of innocent people, and then you have me out searching in the cold and the snow, and then you put me in a cage… and now this ?” 

“Cyborg Eight, follow my orders!” Indigo shouted. 

Suddenly, the intercom stirred to life, “What a disappointing display. First, Agent Indigo, I commend you for being the only loyal one out of your bunch. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with Commander Red about promoting you to Captain properly.” 

“Thank… thank you General White!” Indigo said, smiling in surprise. 

“Second, get fifty feet away and blow that bucket of bolts! This is why I push for wiping the body’s memories in all future cyborgs! You leave them with anything at all, and they start getting annoying ! Two is disobedient, and now Eight is as well! Just blow him up!” 

“But… don’t each of the cyborgs represent a serious investment?” Indigo asked. 

“Yes, but faulty equipment is faulty equipment! Even worse, we’ve had to waste money keeping him locked up because something went wrong with his capsulize button! Well I’m done with it. Flappe isn’t vital to the project any longer anyway. And this way, we can maybe take out the kid in the explosion. Do it, that’s an order soldier!” 

Indigo obeyed, and turned to run. The cyborg moved to chase him, but the ninja was like a blur, racing along the platform in a flash of purple. Once they were nearly on opposite ends of the room, Indigo turned around and held out the button proudly, “Goodbye, both of you!” 

“Oh no,” the cyborg turned towards Clark with fear, before running for the edge of the observation platform and throwing himself over the guard railing, “Kid, stay back! Run upstairs!” 

He fell towards the forest, and Clark turned to glare at Indigo. The ninja swung his other hand over, aiming to press the red button, and Clark moved. He threw himself forwards in a push of speed that surpassed any attempt at running he had made before. Faster than he forced himself to go to keep up with Krillin, faster than he needed to be to dodge bullets. The distance between him and the purple figure shrank and shrank and shrank until Clark’s fist was colliding with Indigo’s belly. 

The ninja was launched backwards, slamming against the wall, and Clark darted out to catch the remote as it landed, crunching it in his grip. 

The cyborg below hit the pond with a huge splash, but quickly pulled himself out of the water. He wrenched his organic eye shut, tensing his body and waiting for the inevitable… but the ticking didn’t come. Slowly, he opened his organic eye, and reached down to touch his chest. No ticking at all. He tilted his head back up to the observation platform, and saw Clark climb onto the railing to lean over it and look down at him, “Are you alright!?” Clark called.

“Kid, you need to get upstairs, they might still blow me up!” he protested. 

Clark lifted the ruined remote, “Not without this.” 

The cyborg’s eye widened, and a smile pulled at his mouth, “That’s- you-” he grinned wide, and then started laughing as he pulled himself out of the pond, “You saved me.” 

“You tried to save me, too!” Clark shouted down, “It’s the least I could do.” With a push, Clark threw himself off the edge too. The cyborg went pale, and rushed forwards, to try and catch him before he fell, but Clark landed easily on his feet, no worse for wear. 

“Holy crap kid, stop scaring me like this.” 

“Sorry,” Clark said, “But are you okay? Is water bad for your prosthetics?” 

“I doubt it,” he said, “I’m built pretty sturdy. So are you, apparently, if you can make jumps like that,” he looked back up to the observation platform, “What’s a kid like you doing here?” 

Clark opened his mouth, before turning to glare at the intercom speakers that lined every wall, and the cameras that were placed on the ceiling, “I don’t really want to talk about it while the Red Ribbon army is listening in.” If they decided they could stop Clark by threatening the hostages, the situation wouldn’t end up good. Better not to let anyone know he was trying to rescue anyone. “And I’m a teenager, by the way. I’m just short.” Clark said a little defensively, “High school age.” 

“Oh yeah, what grade are you in?” 

“I’m going to be a freshman in the fall,” Clark said with a grin. 

The cyborg’s smile fell a little, “I was gonna be a Junior, before this happened. If everything went how it was supposed to a year ago, I would have been looking at different colleges right about now.” 

Clark smiled softly, “So you’re the other cyborg who remembers his past?” 

“Besides Java?” he asked, “Yeah. At least the two of us still have that. How do you know that?” 

“Red Tornado told me.” 

“Tornado?” he asked, “You know him?” 

“He helped bring me here, to help stop the Red Ribbon Army,” he said, before turning to stare up at the ceiling high above them, “I’m close to the top now. It shouldn't be long,” he looked at he cyborg, “Are you going to be okay to escape on your own… um, what’s your name?” 

“ My name’s Victor Fl-” he cut himself off, looking troubled, “My name is Vic Stone,” he decided, “What about you?” 

“I’m Clark.” 

“Clark,” Vic began, “you mind if I join you in bringing these jerks down?”

Chapter Text

“There’s no fifth floor?” Clark asked.

“No, there’s a fifth floor, but it’s not accessible to the rank and file. I think there’s a secret entrance to it in General White’s console room up on the top,” Vic replied, eyeing the wall they passed as they continued to ascend, “I’ve been in there before. It’s one of the places they do tests for the Red Robotics project.”

Clark frowned, “Tornado mentioned that too. What is it?” 

“ Us , basically. Me and Tornado and Java and the others,” he said, “It was funded by General White in particular, and was started up by Doctor Morrow a few years ago, back when he cracked capsules and put Red Ribbon on the map as Capsule Corp’s only rival. I think the original goal was to find a way to capsulize a person. You know, replace more and more of their bodies with metal until they reach a point where they can survive the process.” 

Clark stopped walking, going wide-eyed, “But… why would they even want to?”

“They already sold everything else you need for a war in capsule form: Guns, rations, vehicles, fortresses… the only thing left was to start selling people soldiers in capsule form too.” 

“But putting a human in a capsule… It kills them, doesn’t it? Nothing with a living brain comes out the other end okay. ” 

Vic stopped and looked back at Clark, raising his only eyebrow, “What, you think it’s impossible? ‘Cause eventually he did make it happen. I’ve been capsulized before, before my button stopped working. Doesn’t really feel like anything. No time passes inside. Just a poof of fog, and I’m standing somewhere else, at a later time.” 

“No, I know it’s possible. I-” Clark glanced around, but the cameras seemed a decent enough distance away, “I have Tornado in a capsule in my pocket,” he said quietly, “White used the remote to turn on his bomb, but I capsulized him before it could go off. He told me not to let him out until I had Doctor Flappe on hand to do something about the bomb.”  

Vic looked struck by the news, horrified, “He tried to kill Tornado? But-” he closed his eye, and shook off the shock, “That’s bad. That’s… I don’t know what to do about that. I don’t know what Flappe could do about it either.” 

Clark frowned at that, “Well, I still have to try.” 

“Right…” Vic agreed. Soon, they reached the top of the stairs, coming to a heavy iron door, “Well, this is it. Floor Six: the command center.”

Clark strode forwards, shoving open the door. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting General White to look like, but an older overweight man with white hair that stuck out to either side, wearing a sweater, and leaning casually on one of the consoles as he observed them with a slightly annoyed expression was what he found. “Cyborg Eight. Meddlesome Brat,” he greeted, “How do you do?” He waved his hand, showing them the remote he was holding. “What? You think that I gave Captain Purple the only one? I’m the man behind the Red Robotics project. I have a copy of every cyborg’s remote, as you would well know, Brat.” 

Clark lanced his arm forwards, the Nyoibo extending with the same motion. White’s eyes went wide as the pole shot out faster than he could blink, jabbing into his hand and knocking the remote to the floor. Then, before White could say a word, Clark brought the staff crashing down, shattering it. Then, he lifted it and aimed at 

“I- Oh. Well then,” General White said, before smiling awkwardly, “Well, I still have the upper hand. I still have hostages,” he said, gesturing towards one of the walls, where there was room off to the side, the entryway covered by steel bars. Clark turned his head slightly, and sure enough he could see a miserable-looking old man sitting on a bench inside, “If I say a certain word, the trap door below his room will activate, dropping him down into floor five. It's… quite the drop. I doubt a man his age could survive unscathed. And that’s not even considering what I have down there.” 

Vic sneered, lifting one hand and pointing it towards White. To Clark’s surprise, the fingers folded back in a way that normal human’s shouldn’t, clearing the way for his palm to to split and reveal a hole that led down his arm. The red light that pulsed from various points on Vic’s body grew more intense, and Clark could see light beginning to build up inside what he recognized as the barrel of a gun. “Let him out,” he demanded, holding out his arm cannon towards White.

“But wouldn’t you rather be looking for Doctor Flappe? To help your good friend Tornado?” He asked, gesturing to one of the screens on his console. Clark recognized the hallway as the one he had just walked through. 

He supposed he wasn’t quiet enough. Darn, this could get bad. 

“Where is he?” Clark asked, stepping forwards and pressing the pole against White’s chest. 

“Flappe? He’s on the floor below us, providing maintenance to Cyborg Nine,” White said casually. 

At his side, Vic tensed. 

Clark glanced at his new friend, “Is… that bad?” 

Vic swallowed, “Cyborg Nine isn’t like me or Java or Torndo or… any of the others. He’s… something new. He’s not in full control of his powers, being around him is dangerous.” 

“Me and Gero’s greatest creation to date. Sure, Nine may not have the same level of raw destructive power of some of our other Cyborgs, but I think he more than makes up for it in utility.” General White said with a grin, “But Eight is right. Just being in the same room with Nine can be deadly. Of course, that’s why Nine is currently deactivated while Flappe does maintenance. I’m afraid it’s all the good doctor’s useful for, these days. He just can’t keep up with Morrow’s newest work- he’s no longer vital to the project.”

Vic glanced downwards, worry showing in his face, “You wouldn’t.” 

 General White lifted his hand casually to the side, and pressed a button. “I would. Nine is now in the process of waking up early. If either of you have business with Doctor Flappe, I would recommend being fast about it. Here, let me help: Dee-Four.” 

All at once, the floor under Clark dropped open, and the teen blinked in surprise before falling through. “Free the mayor!” he shouted over to Vic even as he dropped into the darkness. Then, slowly, the hatch began to close back up.

General White watched, amused, as Clark’s escape route slowly closed. He looked towards Vic, “Well? Your little friend is going to get himself killed. Flappe will die too. You’ll last the longest against Nine, and we both know it. So- what will it be, Eight?”

The glow of the cannon increased in intensity, “I could shoot you and then go help.” 

“We both know you won’t.”

“Oh yeah?” 

General White simply smirked for a moment, before continuing, “You refused to kill anyone through the entire testing process, even when we threatened you with the bomb. Not even Red Ribbon soldiers. In the end, you’re a defective product. We kept you around just to control Flappe and to have an extra set of hands, and that’s all. Your mind is too weak for anything else, no matter how much stronger we make your body.” 

Vic grit his teeth, but he didn’t lower the cannon. The light inside grew brighter, and White’s casual amusement vanished, replaced with surprise, then worry as Vic stepped closer.

“Cyborg Eight…” White began. 

Vic fired. 

The console next to General White exploded into slag, melted in an instant from the heat of the beam put out by Vic’s arm cannon. The General shrieked and threw himself to the side, only to be forced back when Vic took out those consoles next. In quick succession, blast after blast rang out, destroying more and more of the command center, “I don’t know where you’re keeping the microphone- so everything goes! No more spying, no more surprises, no more trap doors, no more listening to you!” Vic growled, marching towards White and pressing the barrel of the cannon against the older man’s chest. The barrel was hot enough to the touch that the fiber of the man’s sweater started burning.

“Cy- Red Dyna- Victor ,” General White pleaded, smiling, “You don’t want to do this! You’re not a killer. I’m-” 

“Coming with me.” 

“What?” 

Vic pulled the cannon away from him, and then aimed at the mayor’s cage instead. Another blast rang out, and half the bars melted in an instant, splashing to the floor. The older man stepped out of the cage with some hesitation, “Get out of here!” Vic told him, “Take the stairs all the way down. The soldiers should all be unconscious, and they have bigger things to worry about.” 

“Right. Thank you, young man!” the mayor said, before turning and hurrying for the door. 

Vic bent down and grabbed General White by the shoulder, and started dragging him towards the now barely-open hatch. Down below, they could hear chaos. 

“No! Cyborg Nine will kill us!” he protested, “You can’t make me go down there, Victor, please!” 

Vic jumped down through the trap door, dragging the general in with him, just before the hatch shut completely, sealing them in level Five. 

Chapter Text

Clark found himself peering into the darkness. The room wasn’t well-lit, except, he realized, for a small area on the bottom where a man was working on a strange figure lying on a massive slab. 

The person on the slab was humanoid in shape, but that was about where it ended. Its head was a chalk-white color, and was lumpy and bubbled. It looked almost as if white wax had melted over the shape of a human’s skull. 

Its right arm was that of a polished brass statue, gleaming gold, while its left was covered completely in sparkling purple crystals. Its right leg looked like it was made of mud, and had lost some of its shape to ooze across the table, while its left was made of shining silver steel. Its torso was a mixing pot of all five substances, blending and leeching into each other. 

Sitting on its chest was a single bolted-on metal plate bearing the symbol of the Red Ribbon army, as well as an embossed “9”. Connected to the plate were a number of wires and cables that extended into the mysterious machines that filled the darkness at the edges of the room. 

Standing next to Cyborg Nine was who Clark presumed was Doctor Flappe. The man was dressed in a lab coat, and was lean and dark-skinned, with a big graying mustache and what was almost an afro of curly salt-and-pepper hair. He seemed to be desperately shifting from one monitor to the next, checking the readings and getting more and more worried. “No no no no… he’s not supposed to be waking up yet! Containment procedures aren’t-” 

“Doctor Flappe!” 

The scientist turned around, shocked, “What the hell? What are you doing here? No one is allowed inside level Five without proper clearance,” he marched towards Clark, which saved his life. 

The being on the table behind him suddenly let out an inhuman wail as the half-melted surface of its head warped and twisted, forming a mouth and eye holes. It lashed out with all of its limbs, spikes and blades extending out of it like the quills of a porcupine. The machinery around them sparked and screeched as they were torn apart, and the slab he was lying on fell apart, sliced into shards. 

Clark jumped forwards, grabbed the man by the arms, and rushed to pull him back. All the while Flappe struggled against him, “Unhand me, we need to contain him! If we can’t, he’ll bring down the whole tower!”

“We can worry about that once you’re safe!” Clark said back, pulling him further away.  With the scientist safe at least for the moment, he looked back toward his opponent, “Hey! Are you okay? Do you need help?” 

Cyborg Nine turned to stare at him, “ Need… help ?” It reached over with its still-solid brass hand, and scraped it against the metal plate bolted into its chest, ripping away what was left of the wires connecting it to the machines.

“Look, if you just calm down, we can-” Clark began.

“Need?! Help?!” the cyborg roared. Its body turned into a shifting maelstrom of liquid steel, mud, and purple slime as it surged forwards towards him. Cyborg Nine crashed into the machines that Clark was standing on, denting them with the force of the tackle. But that wasn’t enough destruction for it. With a growl, a hundred tentacles emerged from the mass, growing a variety of blades and hammers and spiked spheres from the tips, before flailing out and utterly destroying everything within reach of its arms. “I’m way past help!” he roared. 

Clark jumped back, avoiding getting pulled into the destruction, and landed closer to the doctor, who was starting to cough himself, “What did Red Ribbon do to him?” 

“It’s the new direction Morrow’s decided on for the Red Robotics project. Not merely an ordinary human base with synthetic replacements or reinforcements, he’s turned towards combining metahumans, biological augmentation, and organic-mimicking synthetic enhancements. Taking advantage of the natural adaptiveness of metas to… combine as many influences and abilities as possible in a single being.” Flappe managed, covering his face with his sleeve, “This the prototype for that concept. The first of the next wave of Red Ribbon cyborgs. Cyborg Nine: Red Metamorpho.” 

Red Metamorpho turned his head, and with a roar, swung one arm forwards. The limb extended and grew, stretching the distance between them in seconds despite the cyborg not taking a step closer. The crystalline hand erupted into massive claws. Clark shoved the scientist behind him, before lashing out and jabbing the hand, shattering it. The cyborg roared in anger, and all at once, the arm changed what it was made of. Crystals were replaced with a foul green-colored goop. An industrial stench wafted from it that made Clark slam his hands over his super-sensitive nose. 

He shuffled back, and watched as the sludge dripped off his arm and fell down to the floor. Steel and cement flooring alike corroded in the face of the liquid and filled the air with the pungent, acrid, smoke. 

But as he saw some of the green forest of the level below through the hole, he realized that might also be their way out. 

Chapter Text

Metamorpho lashed out wildly, destroying more of the equipment and making his way towards Clark and Flappe, one piece of wreckage at a time, all the while spraying more and more of the toxic sludge as he went. 

“What does he want?” Clark asked, the fumes of the acid-melted floor choking his senses. His eyes were watering, his mouth burned, his nose he refused to even uncover. 

The scientist coughed harder, shuffling back, “I don’t know. I’ve never been this close to him while he was awake. It’s too dangerous! Both of us are going to need a hospital after this…” he said, still covering his mouth with his sleeves, “Try not to breathe in too much.”

Clark considered his opponent for a few more seconds, until the situation suddenly changed as Vic and General White plummeted out of the hole in the ceiling, the capitalist screaming as they dropped. Vic landed with a crash into the remnants of one of the machines, and White let out a pained gasp as he landed as well. 

“ YOU! ” Metamorpho screeched, whipping himself around at the sight of the General. 

“Oh crap.” General White said, turning to stare at Metamorpho in horror.

The mutating cyborg retook humanoid form, kicked off the floor, and sent himself flying towards the pair . Vic reacted in an instant, throwing White behind him and stepping into the charge. Metamorpho met him in a tackle, but Vic braced himself even as his metal feet kicked up sparks as he was pushed back against the steel floor. Blades and hammers formed from Metamorpho and quickly began to rain down blows, but Vic weathered them as he struggled to lower his cannon towards Metamorpho’s chest. The acid splashed against his body, but all it did was eat away at the paint, removing more and more red from Vic’s body and leaving silver behind. 

“Vic!” Clark shouted, bounding down close to them before the intensity of the acrid smoke forced him to climb back up. He hacked and coughed, distracted. When he looked up again, it was to the flash of red light through Metamorpho, “No!” 

The shapeshifter stumbled back, shocked, and looked down at the holes in his body. His flesh on the inside was even more bizarrely colored and textured than the outside, mixed in with a strangely liquid and shifting mechanical frame. After a moment, the flesh remaining stretched out and resealed all the holes, leaving Metamorpho unharmed. The cyborg snarled, and formed his fists into a drill in front of him, and started towards Vic at a run. 

Vic fired another blast at it, but the drill deflected the beam away to explode to the side. Realizing he was about to be skewered, Vic bent his knees, and jumped as far as he could, sailing up through the air and over Metamorpho as he charged past. 

He glanced back, but realized instantly that he wasn’t the target of the attack at all. Metamorpho barely paid Vic a second look as he ran head-on for General White. 

Gulping down the relatively cleaner air from higher up in the room, and then pinching his nose shut, Clark let himself drop back down to the floor and grabbed the old man before Metamorpho could, and jumped back up to land on another machine. This time, Metamorpho did change course, swinging his drill to the side to try and chase them through the air. “Why did you bring him down here?” Clark shouted to Vic once he was clear of the smoke. 

“I couldn’t leave him up there with the Mayor while I came down to help! He’d just use him as a hostage again.” Vic snapped back, “Besides, I’m hoping that if he could switch Red Metamorpho on, he has a way to turn him back off again!” 

“But Metamorpho’s a victim here!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Vic asked, “He’s still trying to kill everyone here!” 

Clark frowned, “Then all we have to do is not be here.” 

“What?” 

Clark looked down at the general clinging to him fearfully, and then aimed carefully with the Nyoibo. The power pole extended out rapidly, darting into the hole Metamorpho melted in the floor, and continued, on and on, until it hit the forest below, in the fourth level. He pried the general off of him, and then pushed him towards the pole, “Slide down!”

“But- I- I’m not going down there! That gas is poisonous! I should know, I made him that way!”

“Then hold your breath!” Clark said, pushing him again. Without a choice, the general clung to the pole, sucked in a breath, and began to shimmy down- “Slide!” Clark urged. 

Metamorpho charged at them, his arms extending out and becoming a wall of razor-sharp spikes of various materials. 

General White still hadn’t dared to get close to the floor before Clark was forced to retract the Nyoibo and pull him back up. “Fine, fine!” General White protested, tears in his eyes, “I’ll tell you how to beat him. The containment procedure-” 

Metamorpho, frustrated, interrupted the man by launching a part of his arm at General White. The commander lost his breath as the fist-shaped lump of brass collided with his stomach, folding over and hitting the top of the machine they were standing on with a thump. He groaned, before his eyes fluttered shut. The brass hit the machine as well, before transforming into more acid.

Clark grit his teeth in frustration, and grabbed the now-unconscious general and hopped to another machine.

“ One Ribbon down, four to go. ” Metamorpho hissed. 

“Four?” Clark asked, glancing around the room. The general was the only person on the Army’s side in the room. Although Flappe and Vic might nominally be considered Red Ribbon, “The rest of us here hate the Red Ribbon too!” 

“ Stop lying!” Metamorpho growled, jabbing one crystalline figure at Flappe, “ He put a bomb in me! Keeps me asleep, keeps me like this ! ” 

“He can take the bomb back out!” Clark said. 

“Too late for that! And you - you’re Red Ribbon too!” Metamorpho snarled at Clark, “ You saved White! I coulda smashed him and you saved him! That makes you one of them!” Metamorpho accused, the cyborg’s eyes glowing red with hate. Finally, he looked towards Vic, “Dynamo, you saved him too! We suffered together and you still got him out of my way!” 

“My name’s not Dynamo,” Vic said, “...I’m sorry, Metamorpho. He deserves whatever punishment you wanna give him. There’s no doubt about that. But I just… I don’t kill. I don’t even want to see people get killed. Red Ribbon couldn’t make me, and you’re not gonna make me either.”

Metamorpho stared at him, body twitching and shifting every few seconds. Weapons forming out of his flesh before sinking back into it. “ I know, ” he said after a moment, “ I know. Which is why I’m Red Ribbon number five. All of us need to go down. ” A too-wide smile formed across his waxy face, the hole that was his mouth stretching and stretching, “ I know how to do it, too. ” All at once, his body seemed to bubble up and boil, his body liquefying and melting towards the floor. The different colors mixing and blurring, even as steam and smoke seemed to rise up out of him. The smell got more intense, more dangerous, with each second. Metamorpho covered the entire floor, and the machines that the others were standing on began to creak and melt as they started getting dissolved from the bottom up, releasing more noxious smoke. The hole in the floor got wider as he melted away more and more of it, and bits of the acid poured over the side and dropped into the forest below.

All of Clark’s instincts told him to hurry away. He grabbed White, and then jumped over to Doctor Flappe, moving to grab him as well, but the scientist stepped back, “No!”

“Doctor please! We need to find some way out-” 

“We need to use the containment procedures!” the scientist shouted back. 

“The only way out is down ,” Vic agreed, “And that means getting past Metamorpho. You know a way?” he asked the scientist. 

Flappe nodded, “Red Metamorpho’s body is unstable, constantly shifting and changing. It means he can self-repair, as well as change his own composition. But that relies on his body remaining at least semi-liquid at all times. If we can force him to become solid- freeze him, He becomes helpless, and we can put him back in his capsule.”

“ Freeze him?” Clark asked. 

“Normally, we only allow him to be active in a specialized tank, one equipped with a supply of liquid nitrogen.”  Flappe pointed farther back in the room, where a particularly large box sat with a tarp stretched over it. Sure enough, attached to it via several tubes were large metal cylinders, “We have to use it, it’s the only way.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Vic said, turning and aiming his cannon at one of the cylinders. There was a whine as the charge built up, and then a flash of red light as he fired the beam towards his target. Clark watched, worried, as it collided with the cylinder and ripped a hole in the vessel. Sure enough, the moment the container breached, thick white steam exploded out of it. The liquid inside escapes at high speed and high pressure, spraying onto everything nearby and covering it in frost. 

“ NO!” Metamorpho protested, as the parts of his body closest to the vessel suddenly froze, super-cooling the acidic goop he had transformed himself into. Frost quickly started spreading up through his body, across the floor.

“Yes!” Doctor Flappe said, grinning as the cyborg’s struggles slowed and its bubbling melting ever-shifting body started freezing over. The wax-like substance of its head arose from the goop and angled its brows in a half-melted depiction of pure fury as it glared their way. 

“ No! NO!!” Metamorpho repeated, “ You’re not putting me back to sleep in the cold!” All at once, the unfrozen parts of his body at the edges came together, concentrating around the metal plate of his chest and reforming a humanoid torso, but rather than form legs, his lower body took on the form of a foul green vapor, cutting himself off from the thin layer of quickly-freezing acid. He rose up into the air, and watched with distaste as the entire floor of the fifth level iced over. Then, he turned towards the four and divebombed towards them, his arms outstretched, claws forming from his fingers. 

Chapter Text

Clark and Vic threw themselves in front of Flappe, each of them reaching out to try and grab one of the grasping arms. Clark caught the crystalline one with one arm, and then reached back to punch with the other. His fist crashed into the crystals, cracking and shattering it, but before the amethyst hand could fall away, it melted and turned to vapor, returning to Metamorpho’s body. Clark watched, nervous, as the rogue cyborg simply regrew the limb, good as new. 

Similarly, Vic didn’t have much luck either, catching the brass arm with one of his own and trying to bring his arm cannon to bear on it- but as he blasted, the steel warped and concentrated at that point, forming a kind of shield that barely took any damage at all before reforming back into the regular arm. 

Worse, the claw-like brass fingers began to extend from his grip, no longer fingers but tendrils, darting out and jabbing at his organic face like biting vipers. 

Vic shoved Metamorpho back in response, but the other cyborg held fast to his grip, refusing to let Vic go as the brass melted around his hand, encasing it in Metamorpho’s own limb. “Get off me!” 

“No. This will only hurt for a minute, Dynamo.”

Vic’s eye went wide as his mechanical arm began to creak, and there was a groaning sound of metal screeching against metal, muffled by the covering of brass. “That’s not my name, Metamorpho!” Vic protested, “Now, get off my arm-” he yanked back his arm, but Metamorpho’s simply stretched along with it. The drilling sound from inside the mass of brass continued. Vic stared in horror as the lights in that arm suddenly flickered. “Are you in my arm!?” 

“Let him go!” Clark roared, driving his hands together, grabbing for as much ki as he could in just a moment, and thrust forwards. Yellow light spilled from his arms as he shouted a quick, “Kamehameha!” and the blast shot out and crashed against Metamorpho’s brass shoulder, pushing through and leaving a steaming stump. The material still hanging from Vic’s arm quickly melted away, dropping and turning into more vapor to rejoin with Metamorpho’s body. Clark grit his teeth in irritation as the cyborg healed himself completely in just a few seconds, once again possessing both arms. 

Clark glanced back at Vic, and winced. His new friend’s mechanical arm was a mess. A hole had been drilled into the wrist by Metamorpho, and mist was still trailing out of the wound. Metamorpho had been trying to destroy Vic from the inside. 

Behind them both, Doctor Flappe was cowering next to the unconscious form of General White. 

Clark was stronger than the cyborg, but the cyborg could simply put back together anything Clark broke. Vic’s blasts and Clark’s Kamehamehas could put holes in Metamorpho, but once again, it wasn’t anything the amorphous creature couldn't simply heal with a moment of effort. The cold creeping along the ground could stop Metamorpho if it made contact, but he could simply fly over it. 

What could Clark do?

He shivered as the air grew colder, watching as Metamorpho reared back for his next attack… and realized that he was an idiot. 

“We don’t need the nitrogen,” he said suddenly, turning and jumping away from his ally and the two people he was protecting. 

“Kid?” Vic asked, suddenly worried as Metamorpho charged in like a bullet towards the three of them, trailing poisonous gas behind him. Vic fired randomly into the mist to fend him off, but Metamorpho ignored the attacks, coming apart and pulling back together like smoke as he dove at them again and again, “I could use some help here!”

There was a loud crack. 

And then another. 

And then the dark room, once only illuminated by the light hanging over the maintenance area, was illuminated from the side instead. The wind began to howl through the room where before the only sounds were the hissing of acid and the noise of battle. In the new light, Flappe saw his breath appear in front of him like steam, rising upwards as he began to shiver. The room, which was already getting colder and colder due to the frozen floor, was dropping in temperature even more rapidly.

Metamorpho stopped his dive-bombing, turning to stare at the hole in the wall, “What?” Then, his face twitched, and he looked down at his own body. The vapor that his legs had turned into was getting thicker, and a few drops of acid dropped down to the frozen floor below.

“Condensation,” Vic said, grinning, “You’re getting heavier, ‘Morpho.” Vic, seeing opportunity, bent low, charged his legs, and then took a flying leap. Metamorpho, distracted, was caught off guard as Vic collided with him in mid-air. Vic’s arm cannon shifted back into a hand, and the younger man reached down to grab the metal plate bolted to Metamorpho’s chest. “You never made this part disappear. Maybe you can’t.” 

“Let go!” Metamorpho growled, mimicking Vic’s own words from earlier. 

Metamorpho tried to pry his hand away, but Vic simply fended him off with the remains of his broken hand. As they slowly lowered, more and more of the poison gas condensed and dripped to the floor, Metamorpho slowly disintegrating in an attempt to keep himself airborn. Worse yet, the extra weight from Vic was pulling him down too.

On the other side of the room, Clark leaped a few feet and punched another hole in the wall, letting in even more freezing winds and snow. Already his teeth were chattering and his entire body shivering. The blast of frozen winds whipped across the floor, buffeting at the two cyborgs slowly descending towards the nitrogen-covered floor. The wind whipped away at the gas of Metamorpho’s tail, staggering him and finally bringing them the rest of the way down. Vic immediately swung downwards, using his full cybernetic strength to force Metamorpho against the floor as much as possible. Even as frost crawled up Vic’s own feet, he saw Metamorpho’s semi-liquid body harden. 

“Dynamo, I don’t want to sleep any more. I just want to be gone!” Metamorpho protested, even as he tried to claw at Vic. 

“That’s quitter talk,” Vic said back, his voice gentle despite the effort he was putting into holding the struggling cyborg down, “For all you know, when you wake up, things’ll be better.”

“I’ll still be this!” 

“At the very least, you’ll be out of this tower. You won’t have to worry about being used by the Red Ribbon.” 

Metamorpho’s struggles lessened, and then stopped completely as his body froze all the way through. Vic let go, and then took a step back, wincing as ice flaked off his limbs. “Hey, D- Doctor Flappe?” he asked, “Where’s his secret capsulizing button?” 

Doctor Flappe inched closer, hugging himself and shivering, “Leftmost button on the top of the plate.” 

“Cool,” he reached down and pressed it, and with a burst of even more steam in the air, joining the leftover chemical gas, the floating fog coming off the nitrogen, and their own breath, Red Metamorpho vanished into a capsule bearing the label “RRC09”.

Chapter Text

Doctor Flappe walked silently behind the pair of teens, while Clark carried the still-unconscious General White as they headed down the stairs. 

Occasionally, he would glance up at Vic, before looking aside again, staring at anything else to avoid the cyborg. It was the fourth time that it happened that Clark cleared his throat, “Um, Doctor Flappe?” 

“Yes?” the scientist asked, startled and turning his attention to Clark in surprise, “What? Huh?” 

“The original reason we came here was to rescue you. Red Tornado’s going to explode a little while after I open his capsule again. I was hoping you could take out his bomb. There’s something else I’d like you to fix too.”

“Oh. Of course. I’ll do all I can.” he said earnestly, “It’s the least I can do. Though I should warn you, if the bomb’s already been set off, I don’t know if we’ll have time. You should be aware that his chances aren’t good.” 

“I understand,” Clark said, “But his chances are better now than they were before we rescued you.” 

Flappe nodded, smiling sadly, “Well, that at least is true.” 

“Speaking of chances… Is your family going to be okay? Red Tornado told me that you were forced into working for Red Ribbon because they had them hostage. We should probably try and rescue them, too, before we try anything else. Red Tornado’s not going to get worse if we wait.” 

“Ah,” Flappe said, glancing back at Vic, “Well… that’s not untrue. I…” he sighed, “Victor, do you-” 

“Tornado was talking about me,” Vic said, “Doctor Flappe is my dad. I go by Stone because it’s my Mom’s maiden name.” 

“Oh! I guess with the bomb-” Clark’s face lit up, “You can take Vic’s bomb out too!” 

“Certainly,” Flappe said, eyes going wide, “ Immediately . Of course. I- I need my tools, but then, Victor, I can-” he began hopefully.

“If you ever come near me with a blowtorch, I’m never speaking to you again,” Vic snapped, narrowing his one organic eye. Flappe winced, but nodded, looking away again. Vic sighed, reaching up and wiping his face with his one remaining hand, “Sorry. That came out harsher than I wanted. But…” 

“No, Victor, I understand. You’re right. Whatever you feel safest with, we’ll do.”

Vic shrugged, not making eye contact with him. Instead, he looked towards Clark, “Do you want to know what happened?” 

“Only if you’re okay telling it,” Clark said back. 

“...My Dad used to work at a place called Star Labs,” Vic began. “One of the head researchers. He worked late a lot. I needed to talk to him about… a school thing, so I headed over one night. I walked in while he was experimenting with an engine he was building,” Vic said, before tapping his chest, “The same kind he’s got in me. Even better than the antigravity engines in Capsule Corp cars. I started talking to him, he tried to get me to leave so he could finish, we argued… and while we were distracted, the experiment fell apart. Exploded. I got hurt pretty bad.” 

“He shielded me,” Doctor Flappe said, his voice haunted, “He put himself between me and the blast. It was my engine. My experiment. My fault, and Victor paid the price for it while I walked out without a scratch.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. 

Vic shrugged, “I ended up in the hospital. They could just about keep me alive, but,” he gestured to himself, “I lost a lot of my body. I wasn’t gonna last long. Me and Mom, we were trying… trying to make peace with it, or something, but Dad had other plans.” 

Doctor Flappe stopped walking, clenching his hands into fists, “I had an old friend from Metropolis U. His name was Gero. I heard a while back that he had joined the Red Ribbon Corporation, and he offered me the chance to join him. Building military cybernetics. Turning severely maimed people, even corpses, into mechanical super-soldiers instead. I turned him down, but when I saw Victor lying there, I remembered. I got in touch. I offered my engine, my expertise, everything I had...” 

“And they turned me into a gun,” Vic said. 

“Gero saved your life !” 

“And look what he did to me to do it!” Vic snapped back, jerking his arm cannon towards his own face.

“You'd rather have died?” Flappe protested. 

“Look, I’m not like Metamorpho. I’m grateful to be alive, but you didn’t even ask me, Dad! You didn’t let me tell Mom goodbye! And if Clark hadn’t come along, it was only a matter of time before they either broke my will and made me the weapon they wanted, or they got tired of my complaining and blew me up.”

“But Clark did come along,” Flappe said, “Because you lived, you had a chance. And now, we’re free. We’re right back where we started.” 

“You still should have asked.” 

“I…” he sighed, “You might have said no.” 

“I wouldn’t have.” 

“You might have. And I couldn’t accept that chance.” 

They reached level four, and Vic grabbed the unconscious form of Nao as they continued their path down. Looking up, Vic whistled at the damage done to the ceiling. Afterwards, they descended to level three, and the group found something besides the unconscious form of Java they had been expecting.

Waiting for them was the mayor, as well as about a dozen more Red Ribbon thugs with guns, holding him in place. Their leader was a blonde woman in a blue military coat, a red bandanna wrapped around her neck. She was aiming a large, blocky, pistol at the Mayor’s head. 

“Which of you is the one who did that to my Java?” she asked icily. “Step forwards, or the Mayor here gets it.” 

“Captain Sapphire, what are you talking about-” Vic turned his head, and then went wide-eyed in shock as he took in the bare metal skeleton of the caveman cyborg. “Whoah.” 

Clark sighed, guilty, “I thought he was going to be tougher than he was,” he admitted, setting White and Nao down. 

“My Java is the toughest there is!” Sapphire protested, before wilting a bit as she finally got a good look at Clark, “A kid ? All of this happened because of a-” she turned her gaze behind him, and went pale, “You beat up my father too?” 

Clark glanced behind him at the old man, “Technically, Metamorpho was the one to beat him up.” 

“I- ugh. I don’t care,” Sapphire stated, “Men, round them up! The Dragon Radar should be somewhere on the kid’s person. All of this has been a setback and an embarrassment but the Commander won’t care as long as our mission is accomplished. I have a feeling that he’ll be willing to overlook quite a lot if offered two Dragon Balls. All of you, intruders and traitors alike, will not resist, or the mayor gets it.” 

The soldiers slowly approached, handcuffs held out in front of them. Clark watched the men approaching him for a moment, and then held out his hands. 

“Clark?” Vic asked, surprised. 

The nearest of the Red Ribbon soldiers slid the metal cuffs around his wrists, and locked them shut. The teen allowed himself to be marched up to Sapphire, “It’s in my bag. The Dragon Ball and the Radar both. Now let go of the Mayor.” 

“...You’re doing the smart thing, Kid,” she said, pulling the gun away from the mayor’s face. 

It was at that moment he struck. 

Clark yanked his arms to either side, ripping the links of the cuffs and sending the broken pieces of metal flying. Sapphire tried to bring the gun down on him instead, but Clark was waiting, grabbing the arm holding the gun and then using it to flip the woman over his shoulder and into one of her own guards. Both Red Ribbon soldiers went down with a grunt, and Clark quickly sprung into action, thrashing the rest. 

Vic, grinning wide, charged into the action as well, downing a guard with a single punch before folding another around his kick. He took down a third with the elbow of his broken arm, and then smirked as a fourth tried to shoot him with his gun, only to have the bullets not even make a scratch in his armor. 

The soldiers were dealt with fairly quickly, and soon tied up with the equipment that was supposed to be used on Clark. 

“This is the second time you two boys saved my life,” the mayor said, “Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry I sent you down here just to get trapped again,” Vic apologized. 

“No, no, you had to go save your friend. And it’s not like my situation got worse. I was still closer to freedom than I was before!” 

As Vic spoke with the mayor, Doctor Flappe and Clark walked over to investigate Java. Flappe whistled at the damage done, “Luckily, not much of this is structural damage, just cosmetic. Without Red Ribbon’s resources I’m not sure where we’ll get the synthetic skin to repair it with, but he’s going to be fine.” 

“Why hasn’t he gotten back up?” Clark asked. 

“He’s Cyborg Two. I came into the project after he was already created. In fact, the reason Gero wanted me on board was because of my engine. Before then, the models they used just… weren’t equipped to handle all the cybernetics they stuffed the cyborgs with. Not for long, anyway. Cyborg Two needs to recharge for about as long as he’s active. Longer, if he uses extra features like his weapon systems.” 

“Hm.” 

Flappe walked closer to Java, and then grabbed the thick brow of his skull. He lifted it upwards, and with a click, a small portion of the plating came off. Flappe reached over, and pressed the button that had been hidden underneath it. 

In a burst of steam, the cyborg disappeared, leaving behind a capsule labeled “RRC02”.

Chapter Text

“W-wait a second, Cyborg Eight, we don’t have to-” 

“That’s not my- ugh. Whatever,” Vic sighed as he punched the man out, dropping the soldier to the snowy ground. Mopping up the various guards that had been stationed around the little mining town had taken a while, especially once they realized something was wrong.

As it was, the village wasn’t equipped in the slightest to handle so many prisoners, but apparently Vic’s rampage in the control center was enough to disable the anti-radio equipment the Red Ribbon were using to stop them from calling for help.  Within a few hours, reinforcements from Interpol and Norway’s own police force would arrive to deal with the soldiers. 

The best they could do, for now, was take every weapon and capsule the soldiers possessed, and lock them up in a few hastily-deployed capsule houses. Vic grabbed the soldier, hefting him over his shoulder, and marched his way towards the impromptu prison. As he came close, he spotted Clark sitting on the top of one of the dome-shaped houses, wrapped in his blue parka. “Hey! Found the last one!” 

“Good work- hey, I know him! He was being a jerk to Suno and I earlier,” Clark said, jabbing his finger towards the unconscious man. 

Vic moved towards the house he was sitting on, and pulled open the door. Inside was Nao, as well as a handful of other disarmed soldiers. The ninja perked up at the sight of him, and moved to dash forwards- only to freeze in place as Vic’s engine noisily whirred inside his body, making the red lights glow brighter, “You really going to try something?” Vic asked, smirking. 

Nao eyed him for a moment, before sighing and dropping into the chair, “I feel like an idiot, my Master had the right idea, fleeing when he did.” 

“Probably,” Vic said, “Anyway.” He dropped the knocked-out soldier inside, and moved to close the door again, when Nao held up a hand, “What?” 

“...I have intel you might find advantageous.” 

Vic scoffed, “I’m not letting you go.” 

“I know. All you have to do is listen. The Dragon Balls everyone’s been searching for,” Nao said with a grin, “Red Ribbon and your friend both. Do you know what they do?” 

Vic frowned, “What?”

“When the seven are brought together, they summon a dragon god, who magically grants a wish. Any wish.” 

Vic stared at the man. 

“You must have something you want , Victor Flappe,” Nao said with a grin, “So does your friend, and the Commander of Red Ribbon. But in the end, there’s only one wish.”

“Why tell me any of this?” Vic asked. 

“This is the second time that boy up on the roof has thrown me in prison,” Nao said, “I’d find it… satisfying , if he has whatever he wants so dearly snagged away from him by a seeming friend. It would be the second time this year that he was betrayed by a friend.” 

“Whatever. Have fun in prison, ninja-dude,” Vic said, rolling his eye and slamming the door shut behind him. He glanced up at the top of the dome, and saw Clark looking down at him. “...You hear all that?” 

“Yeah. It’s true, too. I’ve seen the Dragon God with my own eyes… kind of. I was in a lot of pain when he was being summoned, but I heard everything, whether I wanted to or not. The magic words, the dragon’s voice, Doctor Sivana making his wish, the Dragon God telling him that it was beyond even his power- and then the mad scientist haggling the Dragon God down to something it could grant him.” 

“So it’s not all-powerful?” Vic asked. 

Clark shook his head, “But it's still magical. Doctor Sivana wished to know everything , and the Dragon God couldn’t do that, but it could find him a magic book that contained almost everything. My friend destroyed the book, but that doesn’t mean that the wish didn’t work.” 

“Do you think it could make me human again?” 

“You’re not not human, Vic,” Clark said, crossing his arms, “You’re more human than I am. But if you’re asking if it can heal you? Probably.” 

“...Are you going to let me make that wish?” Vic asked. 

Clark looked conflicted for a moment, “I…” 

“What are you wishing for that’s more important?” 

“I don’t think it’s more important,” Clark said, “More than one thing can be important at a time. There was this magical cloud, called the Nimbus. It let me ride on its back, and would take me wherever I asked it to go, no matter how far, faster than a plane or hovercar could. It let me sleep on its back, and it always seemed to know what I was thinking. I don’t know whether it was as smart as a dog, or smarter than me, but… the Red Ribbon killed it. They were aiming for me, and the Nimbus took the blow instead, and died.” 

“...A cloud?” 

“A magical, sentient, cloud. It was alive, and it was my friend, and it’s my fault it died,” Clark said. 

“You sound like my Dad.” 

Clark grinned a little, “Yeah. I guess.” There was a pause for a moment, before he continued, “It’s not like the Dragon Balls can only be used once,” Clark said, “They recharge after a year.” 

Vic felt hope stir in his chest, “Then, next year… I could wish for-” 

“I can wish my Nimbus back next year,” Clark said, “And this year, we’ll wish for all the Red Ribbon cyborgs to be healed.” 

“You’re going to wait?” 

“Its… like Red Tornado’s bomb. Waiting isn’t going to make him worse off while he’s inside the capsule. Nimbus is gone. Nimbus will… still be gone, next year.” Clark coughed, then, a rough hacking that shocked Vic.

“You alright, Clark?” 

Clark hacked a few more times before lying back on the dome of the house and groaning, “Are you? You breathed in way more of that stuff Metamorpho was making than I did.” 

“Metal lungs,” Vic said, shrugging. 

“How’s your Dad and General White?” 

“Neither breathed in as much as you did, but the doctors are keeping a close eye on ‘em anyway.” 

“Good.” 

Vic watched the boy, before sighing and looking down at his broken arm, “Hey Clark, do you want to know something cool?” 

“Sure.” 

“I have cannons in both arms.” 

“Okay?” 

“But I only used one.”

“Yeah.” 

“Do you want to know why?” 

Clark sat back up, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow, “Just tell me, Vic.” 

“I keep all my stuff in the other one,” Vic said with a grin, before wincing as he forced the damaged limb to transform. Sure enough, another barrel appeared as the broken fingers peeled back. The cannon was cracked around the edges, devastated from Metamorpho’s attempt to kill Vic from the inside.

Vic lowered the arm, and then straightened it out and started shaking it. 

First, a handful of pieces of candy dropped down the barrel and into the snow. Then a box containing a deck of cards. And then, finally, an orange crystal ball with two red stars suspended inside it. 

The Two-Star Dragon Ball. 

“So,” Vic said with a grin, “My capsulize button was never broken. But whatever tells a capsule not to absorb living things? It doesn’t like Dragon Balls either. I heard that General White was planning on shelling the town after they got the Dragon Ball. So… when I found it lying there in the snow, I figured that I’d make them waste time searching for as long as I could.” 

Clark started laughing so hard he began coughing again.

Chapter Text

“Thank you again for letting us use this space, Mayor,” Vic said. 

“Nonsense!” the mayor protested, “It’s the least we can do, especially after you not only saved me, but saved the entire village. I only hope you can help your friend.” 

“Yeah…” 

They walked into the storage room, and Vic smiled at the sight of Clark speaking animatedly with Suno, while behind them his father was prepping the space. He had gotten out a wide array of tools, also provided by the village or scavenged from Stag Tower, and had them set around him like a surgeon’s tools. 

Suno and Clark looked up at the arriving pair, and hurried over to them, “Hey there mister Hero!” Suno greeted, “Hello to you too, Mister Mayor.” 

“We brought the last thing you needed,” the mayor replied, holding up a capsule. He threw it down and in a burst of vapor, one of the cylinders of liquid nitrogen from level five appeared, practically stretching to the ceiling. 

Doctor Flappe nodded, putting his hands on his hips, “This might be the only thing that can save Red Tornado. If we can open him fast enough, and blast the bomb with liquid nitrogen, it might delay the explosion long enough to safely remove it.” 

Suno nodded, walking over to the valve next to the cylinder, while Clark took the hose that was attached to it and moved closer to the surgical table where Red Tornado would be placed, ready to spray the bomb as soon as he could see it. Vic was standing near the surgical bed, his arm out of its cannon-mode, as he stood ready to grab. Flappe had the Capsule RRC04 waiting in one hand, and had a blowtorch in the other. “Mister Mayor, I think you should head outside,” he said. 

“And you’re sure this is safe?” 

“As safe as we can make it at short notice,” Flappe said. 

“...Alright. I’ll be outside, holding the door. Suno, be sure to run over the moment you turn that valve, got it?” 

“Right!”

 “Okay.” Flappe said, “Everyone just… be ready to move. Okay? Vic, are you sure you’re ready for this? There won’t be enough time to open up his chest the normal way. Once I make the cut, you’re going to have to pry Red Tornado’s chestplate up with brute force.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Okay.” Flappe took a deep breath through his mouth, and then let it out of his nose. He dropped his welding mask over his face. “We’re starting!” he ignited the blowtorch, and then pressed the button on the capsule, tossing it lightly towards the surgical bed. In a burst of vapor, Red Tornado appeared in a sitting position. Immediately, the air filled with the sound of ticking. 

Tick tick tick tick

Flappe was on him quickly, bringing the blowtorch to the cyborg’s chest. 

“Where- Doctor Flappe!” Red Tornado spoke, “Oh thank goodness, Clark was able to rescue you- and Vic as well.” 

Tick ticktickticktick

“Hey Tornado,” Vic said, distracted as he watched Flappe making the cut. 

tickticktickTickTICKTICKTICK

“Victor!” Flappe called. He deactivated the blowtorch and set it aside, grabbing for a screwdriver instead. 

TICKTICKTICKTICK

Vic reached over, grabbing the edge of the molten metal without hesitation and pulling back. Metal screeched, and Red Tornado’s entire body jerked. “Agh- arrrggghhh !” the cyborg screamed as a hole was wrenched open into his chestplate. 

TICKTOCK TICKTOCK

“Suno!” Flappe ordered, “Clark!”

TOCKTOCKTOCKTOCK

Suno wrenched on the valve, and the hose went rigid as the below-freezing liquid pumped down it. Clark aimed the hose into the gap, and winced as it sprayed out into the open hole in Red Tornado’s chest. 

TOCKTOCKTOCK TOCK TOCK T O C K

“GAAAAH!” Red Tornado shrieked. 

T O C K T  O  C  K  T   O   C   K

“Okay, that’s enough!” Flappe shouted, pushing Clark aside and reaching into the cavity with the screwdriver. Clark pulled back the hose, and Suno turned back the valve, cutting off the flow of liquid nitrogen, before she dashed for the door as the mayor had asked. Flappe worked quickly, but although the ticking of the bomb had slowed down, it hadn’t stopped . Worse, as the seconds passed by the ticking started getting faster again, despite the cold.

T O C K TOCKTOCK TOCK TOCK

“I almost…” Flappe snarled. He swore as the screwdriver slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground. He reached for it quickly, but the bomb only got louder.

TOCKTOCK CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK

“Ah. Too late.” Red Tornado reached over, and with a shove, knocked Flappe away. Wind began to whip around Tornado’s limbs, and the cyborg lifted up into the air. He reached up, and wind ripped a hole in the ceiling above him, “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m sorry Clark. Thank you for your efforts. Goodbye.” He began to rise into the air, the horrible sound of the bomb getting louder and louder. 

CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK

“Tornado!” Clark shouted, jumping up onto the table and then launching himself through the hole in the ceiling, grabbing onto his leg. 

CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK

“Clark, let go!” Red Tornado protested, “I’m going to explode! There wasn’t enough time!” 

CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK!

“No!” Clark shouted, scrambling up to Red Tornado’s head despite the wind buffeting him, “We still have a chance!” 

CLUNKCLUNKCLUNK!!! 

CLUH-CHUNK…

“I… thank you, Clark. You’re a good boy.” There was a terrible sound, as if something dropped , and then light erupted from inside Tornado’s body. His chestplate burst apart. A scream began in Red Tornado’s throat-

And then he, explosion and all, vanished in a burst of vapor. 

The capsule and Clark both started falling towards the roof. The teen lashed his arm out and caught the capsule before it could hit anything else, completely ignoring his own safety as he bounced against the roof and rolled off it, hitting the road. 

He got back to his feet after a moment, before staring down at the capsule. He felt sick to his stomach. 

The others hurried outside a few seconds later, their faces grim. 

“I… got him back in the capsule before he exploded all the way. But…” Clark felt tears prickling at his eyes. 

Flappe looked to the side, “I’m sorry, Clark,” he sighed, “First I couldn’t do anything with the radar, and now I couldn't do anything for Red Tornado. Some help I’ve been.” 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Doctor,” Suno chided, “You tried,” she turned to Clark, “What are you going to do now?” 

“...I’m not giving up hope,” Clark said, looking down at the capsule, “I have to find my friend Bulma, to have her fix the Dragon Radar. But her Dad invented the capsule. If there’s anything we can do for Red Tornado, anything at all… she’ll know.” 

Vic patted him on the back, “I guess we’re heading for Metropolis, then. Home sweet home.”

DC Character + DB Character = Dragon Ball: Superman Character

• Red Ribbon Part 2: White’s Stag

• Dr. Silas Stone + Doctor Flappe = Dr. Flappe

• Ice + Suno = Suno Olafsdottir

• Simon Stagg + General White = Simon Stagg | General White

• Staggatron + Red Ribbon Androids = Red Robotics Project

• Java & + Major Metallitron = Cyborg 2: Red Bravado | Java

• Sapphire Stagg + General White’s Sister = Captain Sapphire

• Cyborg + Android 8 = Cyborg 8: Red Dynamo | Victor “Vic Stone” Flappe

• Metamorpho + Buyon = Cyborg 9: Red Metamorpho

Chapter Text

|R><R| Saga Act 3: ROSE’S THORNS

A bed, with the body of a man lying across it.

She stared down at the face of Colonel Silver- 

Deathstroke- 

….Slade Wilson

“He was the only death in the encounter, Colonel Rose,” one of the soldiers stated, “All other casualties merely suffered broken bones or lesser injuries. I’m sorry for your loss” 

“Don’t be,” A smile cracked across her face,“He must have hated going out like this.” In the end, because he was unable to defeat a child on his own, he tried to make Red Tornado do it. His own weapon turned against him, unwilling to cross that line. Just like Staff Officer Gold, the prick , had told her. Tornado stopped fearing him, and immediately turned against him. 

“Ma’am?” 

She stared down at the unbreathing face of her father. A long time had passed since she saw him look so calm. He was always so tense, no matter the situation. When he wasn’t in battle or considering battle, he had to put up a constant display of overwhelming machismo. The deadly, the unbeatable, the fearsome, the mercenary. A character he had to constantly play, or else people would realize that a middle-aged war criminal pretending to be an orange ninja and calling himself Deathstroke the Terminator wasn’t cool. 

But despite all that she loved him. 

Despite the training from hell he put her through, despite being an asshole, despite being an awful person and a terrible father. 

She loved him, and now he was dead, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“What did the kid look like?” 

“He was wearing all-blue clothes. He was short, with wild black hair. Tan skin. He carried a red staff, some kind of specialty weapon. It could stretch and shrink.”

She memorized the details as he spoke them.

“Where’s the kid and Red Tornado now? As the new commanding officer of the Silver division, hereby renamed Rose division, I am continuing my father’s mission of obtaining the Dragon Ball that was located in this area.”

“Ma’am!” the soldier broke off, rushing to the radio. 

She walked over to her father’s corpse, and took the orange-and-blue longcoat from his shoulders. Then she reached inside, and took out a capsule. It transformed into a bandolier of grenades. She set it down on top of his body, and then pulled one of the pins, and turned around to walk away. 

BOOOM

The funeral over, she walked over to her personal hoverbike. Before she climbed on, she shook the coat out, littering capsules across the ground, and then picked them up, adding them to her own collection. That done, she shoved the coat into the bike’s storage. 

The soldier got back to her, a worried look on his face, “Colonel Rose! It’s terrible! Stag Tower’s fallen! Our entire Svalbard operation was dismantled, and almost everyone there is either missing or got arrested by Interpol! Now both the Svalbard Dragon Ball, and the Colombian Dragon Ball your father was looking for are heading back across the Atlantic.” 

“Back to North America? They’re passing up the Dragon Ball in the middle of the Atlantic ocean a second time?” she asked, surprised. It wasn’t a surprise they weren’t quite going after Colonel Yellow’s operation in Kahndaq, Colonel Violet’s in India, or General Copper’s in the Pacific. All three were well out of their way,  but General Blue’s operation in the Atlantic was practically staring them in the face.

Unless…

“The boy allied himself with Red Tornado,” she said, thinking to herself more than to any of her troops, “They went to Stag Tower, the heart of the Red Robotics project, at Red Tornado’s direction…” she turned to the soldier, “How many of the cyborgs stationed at Stag Tower were captured by Interpol?” 

“Er, none of them? They were all gone by the time Interpol showed up.” 

“...We’re dealing with a robot uprising,” she said, amused, “Is Flappe missing, or captured?” 

The soldier frowned, “I was told that he’s missing too. As well as Captain Purple and all but one of his students. Otherwise, the rest of the Stag Tower staff were accounted for by Interpol.” 

“No clue how the ninja factor into it. But if we see this as Tornado staging a rescue for Flappe and the other cyborgs… Flappe used to belong to Star Labs, Metropolis. The facilities there are top of the line, if he wants to repair his son or any of the other cyborgs, I’d bet he’s going there.” She grinned savagely, and got onto the bike and revved the engine. 

“Colonel, our division’s orders are to report back to headquarters in Markovia.” 

“And the division will be following those orders,” she stated, “But I’m heading for Metropolis. I’ve got a hunch, and I’m going to see where it leads. If Commander Red has new orders, I can receive them via radio. But if I’m right, I’ll have two Dragon Balls to present to him.” 

“You’re going alone Ma’am? But that boy crushed half the division by himself. Red Tornado alone is a sentient natural disaster, and if the other cyborgs have joined them… I doubt the average army could match them. Shouldn’t you at least bring the entire division? Mobilize in force?” 

“Metropolis isn’t a deep jungle or a tiny snow-covered island. It’s one of the largest cities in the world, not to mention Staff Officer Gold would never allow anyone to make a mess of his own backyard,” she shook her head, “No, I’ll go alone. I have some friends in the area anyway.” She grinned as she took off into the sky, racing into the distance and leaving the jungles behind. Her bike rumbled underneath her.

Her father’s problem was that he took himself too seriously. Too focused on the violence, on being overwhelming, on proving how manly he is, on maintaining his rep. It made him do stupid things, like bully the living weapon he relied on, or start fightfights with middle-schooled metahumans. 

Rose wasn’t like that, despite how much her father punished her for it. 

Sure, she was good in a fight. Better than ninety percent of the human population, easily. But that didn’t mean anything against someone with superpowers, and she knew that. She knew that when fighting someone with overwhelming strength, the only solution was to work around them. To achieve your goals without putting yourself directly in the line of fire. 

Make them think you’re harmless, something beautiful and inviting, right up to the moment they get too close and realize that you have thorns. 

She’d get the Dragon Balls, get the radar, and get her revenge- and she’d do it her way.

Chapter Text

“Here we go,” Doctor Flappe announced, “Boys, wake up we’re almost there!” 

Clark slowly blinked awake, groaning as he sat up more in the back seat of Flappe’s personal hovercar. The movement stirred Vic, who had been sleeping in the seat next to him. His organic eye blinked several times, not quite awake yet, while his glass one slowly began to glow red. “We’re home?” 

“Almost.” 

Clark leaned forwards, and smiled at the sight of Metropolis, Delaware. He had visited the city a handful of times over the last year while riding on the Nimbus. Usually to let Bulma study the Nimbus itself, helping on her whole magic research project. The memory stung a bit, but they were still mostly happy ones. 

The city was a glittering forest of skyscrapers nestled up to the bay. A mix of older, blocky towers of shining glass, and newer white dome-tipped pillars that stretched even higher into the sky like mushrooms growing in the spaces in between the old buildings, connected to each other by suspended clear tubes that allowed people to walk from structure to structure, or drive high above the older buildings below.

But Clark wasn’t looking for any of those towers, old-fashioned or newfangled. Instead, what he was most excited to see was the gigantic yellow dome that stuck out like a sore thumb near the outskirts of the city, the border between the city and the suburbs. A handful of smaller dome-topped silos poked up here and there around it, and almost every house outside the walls that surrounded the compound was a capsule house of some kind as well. Written on the front, in giant letters, were the words “CAPSULE CORP.” 

They descended as they got closer to the bay, and Clark eyed the city across the waters as well. Metropolis’ ugly step-sister city, Gotham, New Jersey. In comparison to Metropolis, the other city was almost an eyesore, drab, gray, outdated and dirty. Now that Clark knew that was Bruce’s city… mostly he just pitied it more. 

The little hovercar shot over the waters, before slowing down as it joined a number of other hovercars to wait in a mid-air line to enter the city. 

Clark sank deeper into his seat as he sighed. America and its anti-hovercar laws. “What’s wrong?” Vic asked. 

“Normally I just fly straight there on the Nimbus.” 

“Ah.”

They advanced in the line, but eventually they crossed the threshold from open water to dry land, floating over a road leading into Metropolis proper. They drove along the streets, and Clark found that he couldn’t help but stare up through the window the whole time. He’d never really explored the city from ground level before. 

The shadows of the criss-crossing transparent roads and the constant stream of vehicles that drove through them casted strange shadows over the streets below. The mix of Capsule Corp-designed buildings and older ones were even stranger from below, the cramped square doorways and shops pressed close to each other, almost huddling to fill up every inch of space- and then almost as a counterpoint there would be a corner dominated by a nearly featureless white cylinder, the building’s address the only marking near the garage-door sized doorways. The space between it and the square buildings nearby were filled with greenery, shrubs and trees and long, tall, grass. 

Eventually, they turned off the main road and went up a ramp, driving up and into one of the long twisting roads inside the tower, and then up and out into the transparent tunnels that were overhead. They followed a snake-like path that ran between and then above the older buildings. Now, the view was one that was a little more familiar. The only things that stood above them was the blue sky, and the shiny white spherical tops of the Capsule Corp-designed skyscrapers. 

Eventually they connected back down to another ramp in another part of town, and made their way into the suburbs. In the distance, the massive form of Capsule Corp itself grew closer and closer, and Clark found himself shaking with excitement. Flappe had barely stopped the car when Clark jumped out of the door and rushed towards the gates. “ HEEEY! BULLLLMA! ” he bounded towards the gates and reached up to press the button excitedly, “Bulma it’s me!” 

The intercom crackled, and Bulma’s voice rang out of it . “Clark! You’re here already, come on in!” 

“I brought friends, can they come in?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Clark smiled wide and beckoned to the other two to hurry as a beep sounded out and the gates to the compound slid open. Vic and his father shared an amused, and slightly amazed look, before climbing out of the car and capsulizing it. As they approached the gate, Vic looked down at Clark, “It’s that easy to just walk in?” 

“Sure.”

“This is the main headquarters of the richest company in the world, and we can just… walk in?” 

“There’s security systems and stuff,” Clark said, “Guards, even a few robots. But they know me. And if I say you guys are okay with me, then you’re okay for the security.” 

They walked along the path heading for the main building, when the door suddenly opened and someone came sailing out of it. “Clark!” Bulma called, running out to meet with him. Clark grinned, throwing his arms wide to jump up and hug her, and Bulma laughed as she managed to catch him, swirling him around once before stumbling back and setting him down, “Whoah. What’s with you? I only got back from the tournament the other day.” 

“It’s been… a rough couple of days,” Clark admitted, his smile beginning to fall. 

“What happened?” 

“I… There was a tornado. The Nimbus is dead. The radar’s broken. My friend almost blew up. I almost froze to death, and a few hours later I breathed in toxic smoke, and my mouth still hurts. The Purple Brothers are already out of prison, and Red Ribbon has Doctor Sivana’s old radar and are terrorizing people looking for the balls. And my tail is still gone-” he sighed, “It’s been a rough couple of days,” he said again. 

She looked down at him in shock, wide-eyed. But the expression of surprise melted into one of concern, and she knelt down to hug him again.

“...Why don’t you come inside? You can tell me all about it. Okay?” 

“That sounds good.” 

Bulma looked up from him, and then smiled at the other two, “So… who are your friends?” Her eyes met Vic’s , and the other teen froze up. 

A moment after, the red lights across his body slowly grew brighter and more intense. The teen looked away, before raising his one working hand to his face and coughing into it, “Uh, well. My name’s Vic. Stone. Vic Stone. Clark he- uh. We know each other. And he took us to meet you? So we could… meet?” he glanced back up at her, “Hey?” 

“We’re people Clark saved from the Red Ribbon army,” Doctor Flappe explained, stepping forward to save his son from further embarrassing himself, “He told us you were quite the mechanical genius, and we were hoping you could help us.” 

Bulma marched forwards, and Vic froze up all over again as she reached out and took his injured arm in her own hands, “Oof, yeah I could see why. What did the Red Ribbon do to you?” 

Vic blinked once at her, caught off-guard, before his expression softened and the whirring of his engine calmed slightly, “A lot .” 

“Do you want me to take a look at this?” she asked, turning his arm gently to one side and then the other, eyeing the damage. 

“Ah. My son isn’t comfortable with people working on him right now-” 

“Sure,” Vic said, cutting the man off,  “Thanks for asking.”

Chapter Text

Bulma took them past the main lobby, ignoring the looks of the various office workers heading this way and that were giving the group of obviously strange people. Clark seemed used to the stares too, having visited Capsule Corp plenty of times, but Flappe and Vic found the attention a little unnerving. 

She led them to a large door, and quickly tapped out a code on a pad next to it. With a creak, it opened up releasing sounds and smells into the lobby that neither of the newcomers were expecting.

Bulma led the way fearlessly, and Clark offered the father and son duo a grin before moving to follow her inside. With little choice but to follow, Flappe and Vic entered into the room and took in the massive indoor nature preserve. There was a forested area, a lake with a stream coming off of it, rolling grassy hills and even a bit of a swamp. The room was filled with the sounds of animals. Dogs barking excitedly, cats meowing, horses neighing, elephants trumpeting- 

And that last one really caught the pair off guard. 

“What is this?” Vic asked. 

“Doctor Brief loves animals,” Clark said, shrugging. 

“My Dad has a problem, is what he has,” Bulma said fondly, “Every once in a while he goes around to various shelters and circuses and zoos, and takes on every unwanted animal they have, and then brings them all here. Speaking of him,” she turned away and looked at the door, “Command: Locate Dad.” 

A camera drone was suddenly deployed from the wall above the now-closed door, and hovered out into the air, before zipping across the zoo grounds. 

“It should just be a minute,” she said. “For now, why don’t you walk me through what’s happened since Santa Prisca.”

Clark began to explain, bit by bit, and had just about reached the destruction of the Nimbus when pedaling a bike up the path, and with a small black cat sitting on his shoulder, arrived Doctor Brief. 

“Oh! Hello Clark, hello- Doctor Flappe!” Brief grinned as he stepped off the bike and left the kickstand in place. Brief hurried over to the scientist, and offered his hand, “I’ve heard all about you ! I’d recognize you anywhere,” he grinned over at his daughter, “Bloomy, this man’s a genius! He’s going to blow our antigravity engine out of the water soon. His engines are so clean he’s going to make us look like villains on that new Captain Planet show.” 

“ Please don’t call me that in front of guests,” Bulma muttered, “Or talk about cartoons.” 

Doctor Brief simply grinned as Flappe cautiously shook his hand, before looking to Vic, “And who is this?” he eyed the symbol on his chest, “Oh-ho, you’ve run off to join our competitors, I see.” 

“My name’s Vic, I’m his son,” he said, “And just… ignore the Red Ribbon mark. I’m not the one who chose to put it there. My Dad doesn’t work for them anymore either. Clark helped us escape from them, actually.” 

Brief smiled wide, “Oh yeah? Then how’d you like to come work for me, Flappe? Your engines, in my hovercars? Can you imagine?” 

“I’m… honored by the offer, Doctor Brief. I… if I could think about it?” 

“Of course, Doctor Flappe. Anytime you want a job, all you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you.” 

“So, Bloomy, what was it you wanted help with?” 

“Vic’s arm is all busted up,” she said, “He said he’d let me have a look. Do you mind if I use the main lab?”

“So it is. Permission granted, I’ll have to clear a few things off the shelves, but there shouldn’t be a problem.” Doctor Brief got back on his bike, and turned around, peddling back down the path, “Follow me!” 

“Sorry about him, he’s a bit… eccentric,” Bulma apologized to the others before starting after him on foot, heading deeper into the zoo. 

“Was that job offer real?” 

“Of course.” 

“But… I worked for the Red Ribbon. Your enemies,” Flappe protested. 

“And now you don’t anymore,” Bulma said with a shrug, “Look, if you don’t want the job, you don’t have to take it. Though I think I can guarantee we’ll pay you more than Red Ribbon.” 

“It could go a long way towards making your mother forgive me,” Flappe said, glancing towards Vic. 

“Yeah maybe,” Vic agreed, before looking at Bulma, “Actually, besides my arm there was something else we’d like to get your help with.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Another of the cyborgs Red Ribbon made, Red Tornado, is inside a capsule. But when we put him into the capsule, he was in the process of exploding.” 

“What?! Why?” 

“Red Ribbon put explosives on the hearts of all the cyborgs they built,” Vic said, tapping his chest, “To keep us under control.” 

“God. I’m sorry. That’s… that has to be incredibly illegal. Do you want me to try and get it out?” 

“I’d like that, yeah.” 

“And your friend, you said they were in the process of exploding? What does that even mean? How’d you even put a person into a capsule anyway? Doesn’t Red Ribbon know people can go braindead from that? I mean, they make capsules too!” 

Flappe sighed, “Doctor Gero Morrow was the one to crack it. If enough of a person’s brain is artificial, it’s able to maintain consciousness through capsulization in a way an organic brain doesn’t.”

“I’ve been capsulized plenty of times,” Vic added.

“That’s… groundbreaking,” Bulma said, “And invasive.”

“Red Tornado’s self-destruct device got set off by one of the Red Ribbon,” Clark said, “So he made me capsulize him before he could blow up. We got Doctor Flappe free, and tried to have him remove the bomb, but there wasn’t enough time left on the timer. It had just ended, and just started going off, when I capsulized him again .” 

“Huh.” 

“Is… is there any way we could save him?” Clark asked. 

“This explosion would definitely kill him?” Bulma asked, “Like, would it be hopeless to let him out of the capsule, let the explosion happen, and then rush to save what’s left?” 

“Red Tornado would absolutely die. And anyone else within fifty feet,” Vic said.

“Hmmm… normally, I’d say no, no way to save him. But since our little talk on the beach, Clark, I’ve been thinking about this exact topic. It’s still in the prototype phase, but I might have created something that could help.” 

“Bulma, you’re wonderful!” 

“That’s true,” she agreed without an inch of shame. 

The group reached the other end of the zoo a short time later, where Doctor Brief was waiting by a door. As he saw them approach he put in the code, and the heavy metal doors lifted up, revealing a massive laboratory on the other side. Gigantic machines of unknown purpose lined the walls, and huge sets of carefully-maintained tools were arranged on large boards. 

And almost every bit of spare space on the walls was filled by pinups and posters of scantily-clad women. 

“Dad!” Bulma shrieked, stepping in, “I thought you were going to clean all this up!” 

“It’s my lab, Bloomy,” Brief said, not embarrassed, “I can put up whatever decorations I want. Besides, I got rid of the worst ones after you complained last time. All these are PG-13.” 

Vic’s engine started running hotter as he averted his eyes. Clark, meanwhile, frowned, “Not even the Turtle Hermit’s house looked like this.” 

“Kids are such prudes these days,” Brief said, shrugging. He walked to one of the walls, and then began to enter instructions into a keyboard. As he typed, compartments in the walls and some of the nearest machines opened up and deployed mechanical arms tipped with various tools, and a metal table rose up out of the floor directly underneath them. 

“Well, hop on up,” Brief said, gesturing to Vic.

“I thought Bulma was…?” Vic asked. 

“If you’d like,” Brief said, gesturing to Bulma, “Take the wheels.” 

“Thanks Dad. Oh! Can you go grab some things from my room while I work on Vic here?” Bulma asked, “It should all be in my pink capsule case.”

“Sure thing, Bloomy.” 

“Don’t call me- ugh. Nevermind. Thanks Dad.” 

Clark watched him go, and then turned his head back towards his friends as Vic nervously climbed onto the table. Bulma moved closer, leaning over him, and began to lower various tools into place, “First, we’re gonna get a scan so I know what I’m working with. You okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Doc.” 

“I’m not gonna be a doctor until the end of the year,” she corrected, “You can just call me Bulma.” 

“Right. Bulma.” 

The machines switched on, and Bulma turned her head to watch a nearby screen display Vic’s body in three dimensions, as a series of layers. Flappe moved close, watching the display, and winced at the damage to the arm. 

As more and more of Vic’s body was shown in greater detail, Bulma’s face went pale and horrified, “ Oh , Vic.”  

“What?” 

“Do… do you want me do anything else for you?” she asked, “Is there anything about… all this that you want changed? You can’t eat, you can’t drink, the only part of your body that’s sensitive at all to touch or temperature are your fingers, and even that’s completely shot when you switch to weapon mode-” she bit her lip, staring at the screen, “I’m so sorry.” 

“At least he’s alive,” Flappe said, a little defensively.

“Right. Right. But… do you want me to try to help with the sensory stuff? If I’m going to be getting in there to remove the bomb anyway, I could do at least something for your quality of life.” 

Vic stared at her for a few moments, touched, before grinning, “I think I’d love that. But, just so you know, this isn’t going to be permanent. Clark and I are planning on using the Dragon Balls to heal all the cyborgs Red Ribbon made, including me. At best, anything you put in will only be there until we finish gathering them.”

“Well that’s a relief to hear. But… even if it is just temporary, do you want me to make changes anyway?” she considered him, “I mean, even just some synthetic skin in places would let you get more sensation back. Feel a bit of breeze on your arms. I could make room for a small bioreactor too. You still won’t get hungry, but if you do want to eat or drink, you’d have the option.”

“I… yes, yes I do want that. Thank you.” 

“No problem.” 

Chapter Text

A hoverbike roared over the waves, blasting past the line of hovercars waiting for access to the road, and diving straight towards the city. A few moments later, more flying vehicles, black and white and bearing flashing red and blue lights on their roofs, took off after it, their police sirens ringing. 

Rose adjusted her mirror, taking note of the police cars and grinning. She veered to the left, and shot around a skyscraper, and then past another one, moving through the maze of towers at high speed in a way the flying patrol cars just couldn’t. 

When she could barely hear the sirens any longer, she came to a stop over one of the skyscrapers in particular and slapped her hand across the capsulize button on her bike. The vehicle vanished from between her legs in a burst of vapor, and she snatched the capsule from the air. She landed on the roof below with a roll, before standing back to her feet and dusting herself off. 

She didn’t look back as she walked towards the roof access, ignoring as police hovercars shot past overhead, still desperately trying to catch up with her, and without a clue which way she had gone. 

She made her way down to a particular apartment, and tried the doorknob. Locked. 

She drew a knife, and slid the very tip into the lock. A series of careful movements later, she opened the door and then re-locked it behind her. 

The dingy little apartment was exactly as she remembered it. Discarded fast food containers littered the table and floor, the blinds were left down to cover the window, forcing the room into twilight, and the edges of the room were filled with boxes of stolen goods. Curious, she walked up to one of them and opened the lid. Inside there was nothing but machine parts, carefully labeled with little tags, and the symbol for STAR Labs. 

“Perfect,” she said aloud. 

Clearing away some of the litter on the coffee table so she could put her feet up, she grabbed the remote and turned on the television. That, at least, was as nice as they came. Then, she simply settled in to wait. 

It didn’t take long. It wasn’t even noon by the time the people she was expecting arrived. The door opened, and a strange-looking pair walked in. 

The taller one was a woman with long red hair done in a braid behind her head, and goggles covering her eyes. Orange scales dusted her unusually long neck, and fangs poked out from below her lips. The shorter was a stout, round, and hairy-looking man with a flat pig-like nose, tusks jutting up from his mouth, and thick brown facial hair. 

Both of them were quietly discussing something until they realized that there was a third person in the room. “So, you two are Metahumans now?” Rose asked casually. 

Immediately, the pair had guns in their hands, aiming directly at her. Rose simply grinned and raised her own pistol at one of the boxes. Both of the strange pair flinched, lowering their weapons, “Ravager, I don’t know what the Terminator wants with us, but there’s no need to go and damage merchandise.” The strange man growled.

“I don’t go by Ravager anymore. My new title is ‘Rose’. As for the Terminator… This isn’t about him. Now, you didn’t answer my questions. What’s with the new looks, Whisper, Ugly? Has Intergang been infiltrated by Doctor Moreau?” 

“Who?” Ugly, the boar-man, asked in confusion. 

“Read a book, Bruno,” Whisper, the snake-woman, hissed with a sigh, “It’s something a man called Cuvier cooked up in Gotham’s STAR Labs. DNA-splicers, they’re calling it Animorphaline . One shot of it, and you have superpowers and a completely different appearance for a few hours. Without most of the drawbacks that usually come from these kinds of super-steroids. As long as you don’t mind those powers being animal-based. We stole a few shipments of it, and they’ve been doing quite well on the black market.”

“I think there’s still some drawbacks. I mean, Ugly, you were bad enough before, but now you’re an actual goddamn pig,” Rose said to the man. 

Ugly rolled his eyes, “I’m a goddamn pig who can rip open a safe with his bare hands is what I am. Don’t worry, my old ugly mug will be back in a bit.”

Whisper took a cautious step forwards, “Ravager, what are you doing here?” 

“Can’t I meet up with some old friends and catch up?” 

“Is that what we are now? Friends?” 

“Would you rather be my enemies?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“...Just tell me the truth.”

“Fine, Whisper, Ugly, the truth is… I’d like your help in pulling off a job.”

“What are you stealing?” Ugly asked, crossing his arms. 

“Two very rare jewels, part of a unique set of seven that my buyer is incredibly interested in, as well as a small machine containing the information on where to find the rest.” 

“What’s in it for us?” Whisper asked, her forked tongue briefly escaping her lips to taste the air. 

“A cut of the reward, obviously,” Rose said, “And the chance to get free picking of Metropolis’ STAR Labs.” 

The pair shared a glance, before turning to her with fangy grins, “We’re in.” Ugly said. 

“What do you need us to do?” Whisper hissed. 

Miles away, Clark walked through the zoo alone. 

With Bulma and the two older scientists busy for at least the next few hours with helping Vic, Clark found himself kind of at a loss for what to do, besides worry for his new friend. Hoping to take his mind off things, he headed towards the center of the Brief family’s zoo, where he knew there was a large clearing with two trees- and a hammock suspended between them. Eel’s favorite spot. 

But instead of the shapeshifter, lying in the hammock was a tall older woman with fluffy-blonde hair, reading a book while a cat napped on top of her stomach. “Hi Mrs Brief!” Clark called, hurrying over. 

“Oh! Hello, Clark. Fancy seeing you here. And call me Jean ,” she said with a grin, “I’ve told you.” 

“Right. Jean.” 

“At least ‘Mrs Brief' is a step up from ‘Mrs Bulma’s Mom’,” Jean said, teasing him. Clark flushed, glancing away, “Speaking of my daughter, where is she? She’s not being a very good host if she’s left you all alone in the zoo.” 

“Oh, she’s helping my new friend right now in the lab. Um, giving him surgery I think.” 

“Oh dear,” the woman said, “Well, I hope that everything turns out all right. I didn’t even know Bulma was a surgeon. She has so many hobbies these days.” 

“Well, my friend’s a cyborg, so it’s kind of… part surgery, part engineering?” 

“Oh. Well, that makes more sense. If it’s engineering, Bulma will do perfectly fine,” Jean said, before frowning at him, “Clark, is there something different about you?” 

“I… yeah,” he admitted, “I lost my tail.” 

“Oh no! How’d it happen?” 

“In a fight.” 

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, “Is there anything we can do? I mean, speaking of surgery…” 

“I think I just want to wait and see if it grows back.” 

“If that’s what you want to do,” she accepted. 

“Um, Mrs- Jean , do you know where Yamcha and Eel are? I haven’t seen them since I arrived.” 

“Ah,” she leaned in close, and put her hand to the side of her mouth, “Now, you didn’t hear it from me, but Bulma and Yamcha are having a little bit of a tiff right now.” 

“Tiff?”

“They’re arguing.” 

Clark frowned, “What about?” 

“Double standards, mostly,” Jean said, shrugging, “You know how Bulma gets about Yamcha’s little fanclub, right? Well, now the tables have turned a little bit, with that Mister Wayne due to come over soon to talk about medicine and martial arts.” 

“Yamcha is jealous of Bruce?” Clark asked.

“And Bulma noticed , which didn’t help his argument about her getting defensive over the fanclub thing, and now… well, the two of them are avoiding each other at the moment. Eel’s gone off to try and cheer him up.”

“That’s too bad,” Clark said, “Do you know where they are?” 

“I think they said they’d be in Centennial Park.” 

Clark smiled, “Thanks, Jean. I’m going to go looking for them. If Vic or Bulma ask where I am, could you tell them?” 

“No problem Clark.” 

Clark dashed through the zoo, and then out the doors, and then across the lobby of the business part of Capsule Corp, and finally out the door. He found himself on instinct about to call for Nimbus, before catching himself at the last moment and remembering that the cloud wouldn’t come. 

Resolving himself to simply walk there, he took off down the sidewalk deeper into the city. 

Chapter Text

“Hey guys!” 

“Is that Clark?” Eel asked, whipping his head around, “It is! Yo, buddy, over here!” 

Yamcha looked up from where he was sitting on the bench, and offered a small smile as the teen approached, “Hey there. You finished with the Dragon Ball hunt already? Get the Four-Star back?”

“Not quite,” Clark said, “And… probably not for a while after that, either. I broke the radar in a fight, so I had to come back and get Bulma to fix it.” At the mention of her name, Yamcha slunk back on the bench and sighed. “You guys really are fighting, huh?” 

“It- it’s so dumb,” Yamcha muttered, “I get how I look like a hypocrite, after I kept getting on her case about the jealousy thing, but if she would just listen to me, then she’d at least understand my concerns!” 

Eel dropped onto the bench next to Yamcha, and then invited Clark to sit as well, tapping the wood next to him. “Did ya hear it from Bulma?” 

“From Bulma’s Mom,” Clark said, “I mean, from Jean. You’re jealous of Bruce, Yamcha?” 

“I mean… not so much jealous, as worried about my position?” 

“Position?” 

“As her boyfriend.” 

Clark frowned, “I don’t think that Bruce is interested in being anyone’s boyfriend.” 

“Yeah?” Yamcha asked, hopeful.

“He’s so intense all the time. And really focused on his own little world. I mean, I get why, but still,” Clark looked to the side, considering, “But then again, he did seem more relaxed at the end of the party, and he did seem to have fun talking to Bulma. But then, I think they have a lot in common.” 

Yamcha put his hands over his face. 

“Clark, you’re really bad at this whole reassurance thing,” Eel said, amused. 

“I just don’t know how I can compete with him,” Yamcha confessed, “He’s a billionaire, while literally everything I own Bulma had to buy for me. He’s a genius, while I’m struggling to keep my grades up enough to stay on the baseball team. He has all these big plans for changing his city, and changing the world, and I just… don’t.  He’s even a better martial artist than I am! Morally and in actual practice. I mean, I spent most of my life either stealing to live or learning to kill from the flipping League of Assassins! He’s a master of nonlethal takedowns who learned under the legendary Son Gohan !” 

“Flipping?” Eel asked. 

“I don’t like swearing in front of Clark.”

“You’re only four years older than me,” Clark said, “I know what the F-word is.” 

Eel grinned, looking up at the sky, “I’m imagining the Flipping League of Assassins. Do they only kill people while doing backflips? Did you learn how to kill people while doing backflips?” 

“Look, can we get back to my point?” Yamcha asked, crossing his arms. 

Eel grinned, “Look, buddy, I don’t get why you’re so worried. Do you really think Bulma is going to break up with you? If your fanclub raiding the Capsule Corp building wasn’t enough, I doubt that the mere existence of Bruce Wayne is going to do so. Even if he is richer, smarter, stronger, and better-looking than you.” 

“I didn’t say he was better looking,” Yamcha said. 

“He is though,” Eel said. 

“You’re even worse than Clark at this.” 

Eel laughed. 

Clark frowned at Yamcha, “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. Bulma’s the richest girl on Earth. If she really wanted to, she could probably find any boyfriend she wants. She’s with you, why?” 

“I ask myself the same thing.” 

“Hey, don’t put yourself down,” Clark chided, “The answer is that Bulma has plenty of reasons to like you. You’re a hunk. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else, just acknowledge that.” 

“Okay.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m a hunk.” 

“ And you’re really nice. You’re a good person, Yamcha. You were supposed to kill Bulma, and you saved her life instead. It went against your teachings, it went against your duties, it went against everything you were training to do- and you still did it, because you’re a good person. Bulma is alive because you’re a good person. Me and Eel are alive because you’re a good person. Part of the reason we don’t live on Planet Sivana under magical mind control is because you’re a good person.” Clark said, staring him down. 

“...Right,” Yamcha said, embarrassed, but still smiling.  

“Hey, that’s a point too,” Eel said, “You saved her life! And that throwing arm of yours helped save the world. Has Bruce Wayne saved the world before? Has Bruce Wayne stood between her and a monster? I don’t think so.”

“Right.” 

“If Bulma wanted someone around who was as rich or as smart as she was, she could just talk to her Dad,” Clark said, “She wants to date someone who’s different from her.”

“Right!” 

“So you should head back to Capsule Corp and apologize,” Clark said, grinning. 

“What? Why should I apologize?” 

Clark sighed, “Because the fight started because you were jealous of Bruce?” 

“No, the fight started because I had genuine, logical, reasons to be jealous of Bruce, but she said that because of that, I’m a hypocrite for telling her to not be jealous of my fans. It’s not the same thing at all! They can’t compete with her, she’s Bulma Brief!” 

“Bulma Flipping Brief,” Eel agreed, a wide grin across his face. 

“She’s the smartest, strongest, and compassionate person I know. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen! She saved me from the life of an assassin, and gave me all these opportunities. She’s just so confident, and determined, and… I love her,” Yamcha sighed, “She has to know that I’d never give her up for anyone else. I’m not going to break up with her just because the girls at school appreciate me.” 

“Does… Bulma not appreciate you?” Clark asked. 

“No!” he said, before hesitating, “Yes? She doesn’t seem that excited to go to my baseball games anymore. We haven’t been going on dates as often either. But the fanclub is there every practice , chanting my name, bringing me water, helping me with school stuff…”

“Do you want Bulma to do those things?” Clark asked again.

“Yes!” he hesitated again, “No? I guess, it’d be kind of weird if she were just… part of the fanclub. Especially since they all hate her.” 

Clark frowned, “So what do you want her to do differently?” 

“Not get angry whenever my fanclub comes up?” he said, “I think we’re pretty much fine, otherwise.” 

“Then maybe you could just set some boundaries with the fans?”

“I’m not going to be rude to people who are nothing but helpful to me for no reason.”

“You don’t have to be rude to set boundaries.”

“I don’t know, I-” Yamcha was cut off by the sound of an explosion in the distance, followed by screaming. 

“What was that?” Eel asked, getting up from the bench. 

Clark narrowed his eyes, “Let’s go find out.”

Chapter Text

Eel bounced on ahead, his legs transformed into springs with Yamcha and Clark hanging onto him as he hopped and dashed across one street after another, following the sounds of chaos. Soon, they went around a corner and found the apparent culprit- a building with smoke pouring out of its windows, and glass scattered across the ground. On its front, written in bold letters was “S.T.A.R. Laboratories.”

A number of black vans were gathered outside, protected by masked men with strange-looking guns, scaring off any bystanders. 

“Is that Intergang?” Eel asked, surprised. 

“Who?” Clark asked as they came to a stop some distance away, at a point where several other gawkers decided was a safe enough distance that the men with the strange guns weren’t shooing them off. 

Yamcha glared at them, “They’re thieves who target advanced technology- so, of course, they hang around Metropolis. They go after shipments going to and from places like Luthorcorp, STAR Labs, Metropolis University, and, of course, they’re thorns in Capsule Corp’s side.”

“The key word here being ‘shipments’, I’ve never heard of them just straight-up attacking the place at the source before,” Eel said. 

“Well, let’s stop them,” Clark said, drawing the power pole from his back. 

Yamcha smirked, “Right behind you,” he reached into his pocket, only to have his face go slack, “...My sword is in my room.” 

Eel grinned, “Don’t worry buddy, I have you covered. One sword, coming up.” Eel’s body stretched, then rolled up on itself, before squishing inwards like clay. After a moment, a sword with a red-and-gold handle appeared, the edges blade itself the same shade of gray as the edges of Eel’s goggles, the flat of the blade black as the teen’s hair on one side and blue as the glass of the goggles on the other. The hilt still ended in one of Eel’s spring-shaped legs, before he jumped and finished the transformation midair. 

Yamcha caught the blade, and then swung it a few times experimentally, “You know, this is actually a really good sword.” 

Clark and Yamcha started advancing on the scene of the crime, quickly getting the attention of the Intergang members guarding their truck. “Hey!” one of them called, “Not one step closer!” He aimed the gun towards the ground in front of them, and then fired. Rather than the ordinary bullet the pair expected, instead out of the barrel flashed a quick beam of light, one that blazed towards them faster than the pair could react to, and hitting the sidewalk in front of them. 

Immediately, the point of impact superheated and exploded, scattering tiny pieces of concrete in every direction. 

Clark froze, surprised, while Yamcha sneered, “That’s what makes them Intergang, I guess. They steal advanced technology, and then whatever they don’t sell, they use for themselves.” 

“That was just a warning shot. Do you two kids still wanna play the hero?” the thief with the gun asked, raising the gun towards them instead of the ground. 

Clark grinned, surging forwards. 

“I warned you!” the thief shouted, before pulling the trigger. The beam shot out in a straight line faster than could be perceived, aimed directly for Clark’s chest and passed through that spot in an instant- only for the thief to blink in surprise as he realized that Clark wasn’t there. He could have sworn he hit dead-on. He tried to aim again, but between one blink and the next, the teen was in a completely different spot, moving like a zig-zagging blur, leaving images behind. 

He fired again, and then a third time, almost wildly, but before his finger could squeeze down on the trigger a fourth time the head of the Nyoibo was swinging down to crack against the crown of his head. 

The thief went down instantly, the weapon clattering out of his hands. 

The others guarding the truck raised their own weapons, but they didn’t do them much better than the first. Yamcha caught up after a few moments and mopped up the few Clark hadn’t reached yet. “Sharp!” Yamcha called, and Eel obliged, as Yamcha cut through one of their guns, “Blunt!” the edge of the blade bloated, and Yamcha bashed the thief in the head with it, sending him down with a pained groan.

With a flourish of his new blade, Yamcha sliced the engine of the truck and put it out of action. 

The trio pushed inside the building, and hurried their way through one hall after another. Luckily, it seemed like the staff had evacuated, because the building was deserted, besides the masked robbers taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. 

They tore through the men inside in the same way they had to the men outside, the thieves outclassed despite their specialty weapons. 

Finally, they followed the trail of destruction past blown-open doors and wrenched-apart walls, deeper and deeper into the facility, until the trio could hear the sounds of arguing. “What do you mean it’s not here!?” Snarled a deep, congested-sounding voice. 

“They have to be here!” shouted a woman, “Nothing else makes sense. Look just-” 

“This is a waste of time,” snapped another woman, her voice hissing eerily, “Come on, hopefully what the others have already grabbed will have made this worth it.” 

Clark and Yamcha rounded the corner, and took in the scene. A man and woman, dressed in black like all of the other thieves, were looming over another woman with white hair, dressed in a lab coat bearing the STAR Labs symbol on its breast. Both of the thieves had a gun in their hand, while the scientist was unarmed.

“Hey!” Yamcha shouted, “Let her go!” 

The two thieves looked to each other, before taking in the pair, “Where are the guards outside?” the masked woman demanded. 

“We beat everyone else,” Clark said cheerfully, “So you might as well save yourself some pain and surrender.” 

“Hm. Then perhaps it’s worth it to double-dose.” the woman reached down to her arm and pressed a button on her watch. The male thief moved to mimic her. Clark heard two tiny hissing sounds, and then stepped back in horror as the bodies of both thieves suddenly twisted and warped. The woman’s body grew taller and taller, her limbs and especially her neck outgrowing the all-black outfit and revealing orange-scaled skin below it. She reached up with one hand, now sporting claws on her fingers, and tugged off her mask, revealing a fanged grin and yellow eyes. There was a rip from behind her, as a tail tore its way through her pants and coiled out behind her, ending in a rattle. 

The man, rather than getting taller, got wider. His muscles bulged and rippled, his shirt straining under the new bulk and the even bigger belly, revealing thick wiry brown hair below it. His shoes tore as razor-sharp hooves replaced his feet, and he let out what was unmistakably a pig’s squeal as he ripped away his mask to reveal a flat heart-shaped nose and thick tusks. 

“Oh fuck,” Yamcha said, caught off guard and staring at the pair in horror, “What was that !?” 

“Oh Flip,” Eel corrected. 

Clark, on the other hand, simply found himself grinning as he threw himself forwards towards the pair, spinning the Nyoibo behind him. 

He didn’t notice the way the lady scientist’s gaze narrowed in on him.

Chapter Text

That was him.

He matched the description perfectly. She had no clue who the other one was, or the bizarre talking sword, but they were unimportant in comparison.

Rose felt the desire for revenge fill her. An overwhelming all-consuming flame that kicked on in her chest like someone lighting a grill. Just thinking about it in theoreticals, she had been conflicted. Her hatred for her Dad warring with the sheer shock of the knowledge that he had been killed. But now that one of the people who did the deed was standing in front of her, the feeling hit her harder than she had imagined it would.

The boy raced forwards, faster than her Dad could move, and certainly faster than she could, and crashed into Ugly head-on. Even with all the strength of a feral hog, the thief was quickly overwhelmed by the kid. Ugly’s massive muscles doing nothing as he grappled with a kid a fraction of his size and lost. The boy threw Ugly to the side, bouncing him off the wall, and then leaped onto him to keep the wrestling going. Ugly lashed out with a hard-edged kick that caught the boy in the stomach as he approached, but the boy was only pushed back a few inches before he continued his forward march, undeterred- no, excited -by the fight Ugly was putting up. 

Glancing aside, she saw as Whisper used her new serpentine tail and neck to lash out at the boy’s friend, the one with the odd sword. She didn’t know who he was, but she could appreciate the way the young man managed to avoid the viper-quick movements of Whisper, and the way he managed to keep scoring hits against her despite the agility and slipperiness of her new form.

As she saw the way the fight was heading, she let it cool her head. Just as she thought, even if she pulled out a sword or a gun and threw herself into the brawl, it wouldn’t do any good. If they could handle the double-dosed DNA-spliced strength of Whisper and Ugly, a mere human wasn’t going to be much of a challenge for these two.

Instead, she shrank back from the fighting and reconsidered her plans.

She had gotten something wrong in her initial hunch, but not as much as she thought. Here her target was, in Metropolis, in STAR Labs, even… but there was no sign of Tornado. Of Flappe. Of any of the other Cyborgs. She had gone into disguise to get into STAR, to open the way for Intergang to clear out the people so she could get into their high-security labs, and there were no rogue robots, rebellious scientists, or super-powered tykes waiting for her.

Where else could they have gone, if not STAR Labs? Considering that it was Metropolis, home of the so-called Men of Tomorrow, the answer was ‘plenty of places’. This city was on the cutting edge of engineering. It was the headquarters of Capsule Corp, Luthorcorp, Metropolis University, and even Wayne Enterprises was just across the bay. Even if Flappe was originally from STAR, that didn’t necessarily mean it would be the first place he returned to. He was an accomplished engineer, after all. He likely had contacts at every one of those labs who might let him in.

So… why were they here?

Rose watched as the battle between the boy and Ugly drew to a close, the pig-man finally going down and staying there, his massive form studded with bruises. The boy, of course, was simply grinning wide and immediately jumping into the next fight. And with both fighters to contend with, Whisper quickly began losing ground too. The whip-fast lashes of her tail, the quick and precise strikes with her claws and kicks, none of them were enough to overcome the speed of her opponents.

Whisper hissed and lanced her head downwards towards the boy, mouth open impossibly wide and inhuman fangs extended outwards. The air was filled with the rattling of her tail.

The boy threw up his arms to try and catch her, but was caught off-guard by the angle of her jaws. The fangs were inches away from hitting his skin, when the man’s sword suddenly warped and liquefied, expanding in a moment and darting between them. Her fangs skittered off of the red and pink surface, and she darted her head back in shock, “What the hell?”

“Hey,” the sword said, transforming into a teenager wearing strange goggles, “You haven’t even taken me to dinner yet!”

Whisper stared at him, shocked, before the boy swung himself around his friend and kicked her in the head. Whisper dropped with a hiss, crumpling to the floor. At that, the young man turned towards Rose, looking her up and down.

“Are you alright, uh, Doctor?”

Rose stepped forwards, and draped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into his neck, and heaving a sob, “Oh!” she cried, “Thank you, thank you!”

The young man froze in place, arms going stiff at his sides, before slowly, hesitantly, putting them around her and awkwardly patting her on the back, “Uh, you’re alright now. It’s over. The bad guys are uh, knocked out.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am!” Rose sobbed into his neck, pressing herself closer to him. She could feel his skin heat up. "They- those people- they-"

Hook. 

“There there?” he attempted.

“They… they said they were looking for Doctor Flappe. We have to warn him!” she suddenly said, pulling herself back slightly to stare into his eyes.

Line. 

He was caught off guard, looking into shining cold-blue eyes, “Please!”

“Um. Yeah. Yes! Yes. Who is he?” the young man asked.

“He used to work here,” Rose clarified, “He’s a brilliant scientist. I don’t know what Intergang wants with him, but whatever it is can’t be good.”

“You know Doctor Flappe?” the boy asked, his eyes going wide.

Sinker.

Chapter Text

“...so they’re at Capsule Corp right now, to see what they can do to make Vic’s life a little easier,” Clark finished explaining. Both to the scientist and to his friends. He hadn’t told them everything- the scientist they saved in STAR Labs was still a stranger after all, but he had explained the basics of his sudden feud with the Red Ribbon, and how that led him to Vic and Doctor Flappe.

“I was only a research assistant when he left,” the scientist said miserably, still clinging to Yamcha’s arm, “We all heard about the accident with his son of course, the entire lab needed to be repaired, but knowing he went to those Red Ribbon people… I wonder if that’s why Intergang wanted him,” She leaned against Yamcha, practically hanging off of him, and Clark and Eel shared a look. 

Yamcha didn’t really notice her proximity, too focused on the danger of the situation as he stared at Clark,  “You picked a fight with Red Ribbon ?” His expression was right on the edge of terrified.

Clark understood that she wanted to feel safe, obviously. She just went through something terrifying! But Clark and Eel both knew that if she was still holding onto Yamcha by the time they reached Capsule Corp, the little tiff between him and Bulma was going to explode into something much worse. And with the pace they were moving at, they’d be back at Capsule Corp within a few minutes. They had only stuck around STAR Labs long enough to spot the first few cop cars arriving before deciding to leave, none of the group having much desire to talk to the police and explain why a group of minors took it on themselves to fight mobsters with laser guns and super-steroids.

Eel and Clark did a quick and subtle rock-paper-scissors, which Clark lost.

Clark moved a bit closer to the scientist and Yamcha, “I just realized we never really introduced ourselves. What’s your name, Doctor…?” 

“Oh, no, not a doctor yet. I’m too young for that. My name is Iris Rochev.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Clark said, “I’m Clark, that’s Eel, and this is Yamcha, his girlfriend , Bulma, is the daughter of Doctor Brief. She’s actually working with him and Doctor Flappe to help fix up Vic, and maybe help Tornado too.” 

At the mention of Bulma, Yamcha seemed to realize himself, and his face went a shade redder. They came close to the gates, and Yamcha quickly slipped out of Iris’s grip, she stumbled for a moment, but caught herself. She looked at Yamcha with surprise and a little bit of hurt. Yamcha simply grinned awkwardly, “I have to enter in… buzz us in… press the button-” he tried to excuse himself, before petering out and hitting the intercom, “Uh, this is Yamcha, Eel, Clark, and a new friend. Can you let us in?” 

For a few seconds he waited, until an automated voice replied, “Unable to reach Bulma Brief. Referring you to Security.” 

Yamcha rolled his eyes, glancing back at Iris, “The system needs permission for anyone new to enter the facility,” he explained, “Since all of us are friends with Bulma, whenever we bring someone new over, the system generally checks with her to make sure its okay. Otherwise, it has to check with her Dad, or with-” 

“Who’s the new person?” a gruff voice interrupted over the comm. 

“Iris Rochev, from STAR Labs. We’re taking her to meet Doctor Flappe,” Clark explained, “They used to be coworkers.” 

“Hm. Alright, come on in.” 

The doors swung open. 

“It’s that easy to get into Capsule Corp?” Iris asked, surprised, “They don’t need me to present an ID? Run a background check? Make a request with STAR Lab’s system or anything?” 

“Not if you’re friends with the owners, I guess,” Eel said, shrugging, “I know right? If I had known about this place back when I was aaaa-” he cut himself off, “-aaoon hard times . I would have made off like a bandit.” 

“You used to be a thief?” she asked, frowning.

“Oh please, that’s not so bad, Lover-boy there used to be an assassin.” 

Iris took a slight step away from both of them. 

“Eel!” Yamcha protested. He looked over at Iris, “I’m not really an assassin! Or, well, I’m not anymore. But even when I was, I didn’t kill anyone! I trained for years and years, and then when the League finally sent me on a job, boom! Turns out I didn’t have it in me. I quit. Not an assassin.”

“You were part of the League of Assassins?” she asked, her eyes going wider, a smile pulling at her mouth, “What was-” she caught herself, the smile vanishing, and leaned back again, avoiding any of their eyes, “Er, I mean, I’m glad you aren’t one anymore? How long did you train with the League?” 

“...Since I was a little kid.” 

“No wonder you were able to fight those criminals so well, then. I probably have your training to thank for being alive right now,” she said kindly, before glancing at Clark, “You fought well too. Were you a… former assassin too?” 

“I grew up on a farm,” Clark said. 

“I see,” she said, her expression not changing even as her eyes seemed to unfocus a bit.

“But I spent the last few months getting trained by Son Gohan.” 

“I… see…” she said, her smile starting to get a little bit strained, “What a strange bunch.” 

“We really are,” Eel said proudly. 

They walked inside, moved through the lobby, and Yamcha quickly put in the code for the door that would allow them into the Brief family’s private zoo. Clark spotted Jean still sitting in the hammock near the center, and hurried over, “Mrs. Brief, I found them!” 

“That’s good,” she said, “Hello Yamcha, Eel. And you’re new.” 

“This is Iris,” Yamcha said, “She’s a scientist too.” 

“Oh? That’s not good.” 

“It isn’t?” Iris asked, frowning. 

“You know what they say, too many cooks spoil the broth,” Jean shrugged, “Bulma and Ray can get competitive even when it’s just the two of them working on something. With the new Doctor, and you too ? Things might get explosive.” 

“I’m not a doctor,” Iris said, holding up her hands defensively, “Although meeting Ray Brief would be an honor. Really, I’m just here to see Doctor Flappe. Intergang was looking for him, and I’d like to warn him in person and just… see that he’s alright.” 

“Hm, that should be alright then. You guys know the way to the lab, right?” 

“We’ll be fine. Thanks again for the help, Mrs. Brief!”

“Call me Jean,” she reminded as they kept on moving towards the door to the laboratory. 

Iris kept to the rear of the group as they reached the doors, and Clark leaned over and pressed a button on the keypad, “Hey, I’m back. Is it alright if I came in?” 

There was a beep, and then Doctor Brief’s voice came through, “Sure thing. We’re past the messy stuff now anyway. Now, we’re at the fun part!” 

Clark grinned as the door was pushed open by the older scientist, “Oh, Yamcha, Eel… and fourth person,” Doctor Brief said with some hesitation, looking at Iris, “You’re not one of Yamcha’s fangirls, are you? Because my daughter has a strict policy against letting them inside.” 

“Oh, I’m here to see Doctor Flappe.” 

“Well, if fans of Doctor Flappe aren’t allowed in the building, then I wouldn’t be either!” Brief said cheerfully, pushing the door open, “Welcome inside!” 

The room looked significantly different even in just the hour or so that Clark was gone. Many of the machines on the walls were active now, revealing themselves to be part of some kind of assembly line, some of them printing out strange unique components, while another was dispensing a strange kind of thin, shimmering fabric.

A nervous-looking Vic was no longer on the table, instead suspended in the air by several mechanical arms, his metallic chest cavity open to reveal the machinery inside, but most importantly, displayed the large heart-shaped generator that filled the room with an eerie red glow. Bulma was standing next to him, peering into the chest cavity with a screwdriver in one hand, the other open to receive the next component delivered from the machine by yet more mechanical arms. She moved like clockwork, accepting piece after piece and slotting them place inside Vic with an expression of total concentration. Doctor Flappe stood behind her, watching her work with clear admiration and awe, completely silent so as to not distract her.

“Oh wow,” Yamcha said, eyes going wide, “You weren’t kidding about the cyborg thing, huh Clark?” 

Bulma flinched, one of her eyes twitching as the screwdriver nearly slipped from her hand, “Out!” she demanded, “ Out ! I don’t want to see you until you ap-” 

“I’m sorry,” Yamcha said. 

“....Well good!” she stated, still angrily, “I’m glad. What are you sorry for ?” she pressed. 

“For getting jealous of you and Bruce, despite me not liking the way you get jealous of the fanclub,” he said, “It… was hypocritical of me. If I’m asking you to trust me, then I need to trust you too.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, before turning back towards her work on Vic, “Fine. I forgive you,” Yamcha’s smile was brilliantly wide, “Now, out ! I’m literally building a reactor and doing stomach surgery here, and I don’t need you distracting me.” 

“I second that,” Vic said, looking a little queasy. 

“Is the bomb out?” Clark asked. 

“Of course the bomb’s out. That was the very first thing I did. It’s over there,” she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder towards a capsule sitting on one of the shelves, a warning sticker taped over the button to prevent it from being accidentally released.

Clark breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“After I took out the bomb, I fixed his arm,” Bulma continued, staring down at her work even as she talked, “That was fun. His laser cannon was crappy though. With his power output, he could handle something way better, so I upgraded it with some of my own designs. Makes the gun I built out of toasters back in Russia look like a nerf gun. After that I-”

“And… Red Tornado?” Iris asked, cutting her off and surprising Clark. 

“I’ll get to him and the Dragon Radar after I’m done here,” Bulma replied, “It’s all on the counter over there,” she said, gesturing again to a different part of the lab where Red Tornado’s capsule was sitting alongside the damaged radar and Bulma’s own pink capsule case. Bulma frowned a moment later, looking back up from her work, “Wait, who are you?” 

“I used to work under Doctor Flappe at STAR,” Iris said, surprising the doctor and making him look up as well.

“You did? I’m sorry but…” Flappe began awkwardly.

“Oh! Don’t worry, I was just one of the research assistants. Just another intern out of the bunch.” 

“Sorry I don’t recognize you. It’s been a few years, and I’ve never been that good with faces in a crowd,” he apologized, shrugging, “What did you need to see me for?” 

“You might be in danger,” Iris said, moving closer to him, but keeping to the edges of the lab to avoid getting in the way of the jungle of moving mechanical arms, “I was told you ended up joining Red Ribbon, and then defected from them. I’m afraid that they might be angry with you, and that they’re willing to work with middle men.” She brushed past the counter and came to a stop near Doctor Flappe.

“Middle men?” Flappe asked, nervously. 

“We saved her from an attack by Intergang on STAR Labs,” Clark clarified, “They were there looking for you .” 

Flappe went a shade pale, “That’s… unfortunate.” 

“This is fascinating,” Bulma growled out, “But I am working here! OUT! All of you!” 

“Please don’t distract the nice woman building my new guts,” Vic agreed. 

Doctor Brief sighed, “Alright, come on,” he said, making shooing motions. 

Doctor Flappe hesitated, “Shouldn’t I be here? My son-” 

“Bulma seems like she has things under control Dad,” Vic said, “Besides, like she said, the dangerous part is already over. And it seems like you should get on top of this Intergang thing.” 

“R-right. Call me if you need anything? Anything at all.” 

“Sure Dad.” 

Brief shepherded the rest of the people out of the lab, and then closed the door shut behind him. “So, what’s all this about Intergang?” 

Chapter Text

“So… that was your boyfriend?” Vic asked Bulma, watching with fascination and a little mild disgust as she rebuilt from the inside out.

“Mmhmm.” 

“He seems nice.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Vic smiled at the look of sheer concentration on her face, only to wince as he felt something pinch inside him, “Shit! What was that!?” It happened again, “Ow!” 

“Sorry, just a second…” 

“OW!” 

“Okay done.” 

“What was that?” 

“Had to hook up to your nervous system. Now you can feel your stomach!” She said proudly, “Welcome back to the world of feeling empty and full. I did a little prepwork for the skin with a tuneup to your nervous system while I was at it, too.”

“Oh, thanks Bulma.”

“Not a problem. Now onto the skin!” She began to move the various parts of his chestplate back into position. The red light that filled the room was cut off as everything was put back where it was supposed to. As Bulma dropped a mask over her face and got out a welding torch he averted his eyes, waiting until she gave the signal that he was closed up again to breathe out a sigh of relief. 

He watched as she moved to one of the machines, and pulled on the roll of bizarre fabric it had been churning out. 

“What is that?” 

“Your new skin. Or at least the base layer of it. It’s full of little sensors and things. Once it's in place, we’ll spray-on the final layer so it looks like your own natural skin. Or however you want it to look like.” 

“Natural suits me fine.” 

“Where do you want it?” she asked, handing the roll to one of the mechanical arms and letting it follow her back to where he was suspended in the air, “Oh! I should have asked earlier, do you want us to do anything else to the chassis? A different paint job or anything?” 

“Can you get this red off of me?” he asked, “I don’t really like being covered in their color.” 

“Sure thing,” she said, heading over to a cabinet and pulling out a spray bottle and a towel, “Looks like you were already starting to handle that, though.” 

“That was all Red Metamorpho. Bathed in acid. Not a nice smell, I can tell you that.” 

“This won’t smell nice either, you ready?” 

“Hit me.” 

She began to spray the paint remover, and then took the towel to his body. She was wiping off the paint on his chest when she found herself hesitating between strokes. “Your body… uh… the Red Ribbon built you… pretty fit, didn’t they?” she found herself starting to blush. 

“Ah, no, this was my Dad.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He insisted they keep the shape to my real- my original body as much as possible. They wanted to make me eight feet tall and cover up what little flesh I do have left on my face, but he put his foot down.”

“So this is what you really do look like? That’s uh… pretty impressive musculature here.” 

“I used to be on the football team,” he said casually, “Star quarterback.”

She glanced up at his face, and found that he was blushing too. Embarrassed, she tried to shift her mind back into surgery mode. She didn’t want to be distracted! This was why she made Yamcha leave!

There was an awkward silence as she finished wiping down his upper body. She was about to move on to the rest of him when she realized just what she was about to do. “Hey, you know what, both of your hands are working now! Why don’t you do this, and I’ll focus on getting the synthetic skin ready, huh?” she said, before signaling for the arms to drop him. Luckily, his reflexes were good, and he managed to catch himself before he could hit the floor. 

“Whoah!” 

She handed him the towel and cleaner, and then turned around to look at the roll of fabric, staring at it as if it were fascinating- which to be fair, it was . A lightweight, super-thin material, quite relatively durable, considering how thick it was, filled with tiny sensors that were able to detect even miniscule changes in heat and pressure, just like real skin could. Although… not quite enough of a finished project for her or her Dad to mark it with the seal of approval for sending to hospitals. Technically, still a prototype. But if it was going to be temporary anyway, it’d do.

“I think I’m ready.” 

She turned around, and sure enough, he was now gleaming silver from head to toe, the only things left that were red were the transparent pieces illuminated from within by the glow of his dynamo.

“Have you decided where you want it?” 

“Can’t I just get it everywhere ?” 

“If you really want to, sure,” she said, “But I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s fragile, for one thing. We don’t want to put it over any joints, or it’ll tear. Besides that, it’s sensitive, and you haven’t had much in the way of sensory feedback lately. Too much might overwhelm you. It's the best we have right now, but we don’t want to put it out on the market until we come up with something better.” 

“Then what do you suggest?” 

“Thin strips or bands, or small patches, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. If that’s how it is, that’s how it is,” he frowned, “Wait, if it’s fragile, is it a good idea to put it in my hands? I mean, I’m not planning on taking things easy. I’m planning on finding the rest of the Dragon Balls with Clark. That means fighting the Red Ribbon. That’s gonna be difficult if I have to worry about my fingers the whole time.”

“It’s not like this is the only kind of sensor we have. We’ll figure something out.” 

She began cutting through the cloth, and then moved over to Vic, “Show me where to put them.” 

In the end, he asked for bands to be put around his upper arms, his thighs, and a large patch on his chest to hide the Red Ribbon symbol there, and several patches spread across his back. Afterwards, another mechanical arm dropped down and sprayed a kind of thin liquid over the fabric. He was surprised how much they looked like real skin, colored the same dark brown as the remaining skin on his face. 

Finally, Bulma came away from one of the machines with ten small pads, “So, not as sensitive to heat or… in general, but still better than nothing. They’re about as tough as thick rubber, so don’t be too rough with them, even if it is tougher than the rest of the fake skin.”

“Alright, go ahead.”  He watched, amused, as she attached them one by one to the backs of his fingers. Finally, she took out a pen, and began to draw on him. Tracing gentle lines from his new finger pads to the bottom skin band on his arm, and then connecting those to each other. From there, she drew over his shoulder and down to the small of his back. She repeated the process for his other arm, and then she drew lines connecting the bands on his legs, drawing a line up his hip before making it connect to his back like the rest, “And uh, what’s this?” 

“The ink is meant to transmit signals. They’re not exactly wireless. How else will you feel what they feel?” 

He waited for a few moments for her to finish, drawing lines to connect the patches on his back and chest to the same point on his back where all the lines converged, before she headed to the machines by the walls to design one final component for them to print off. She worked for a few minutes, before the constructs began to whirr and move again, and a few minutes later, the mechanical arm delivered one last part, dropping it into her hands. 

“Okay, you remember that pinch earlier?” 

“...Yeah?” he asked warily. 

“You ready for a bigger pinch?” 

He hesitated for a few seconds, before sighing, “Yeah, yeah go ahead.” 

“On three, okay? One. Two.” She wrenched the component into a spot on the base of his spine, and watched as the small indicator light on the tiny machine turned blue. That meant that the machine had connected directly to his spine, tied into his nervous system. “Three.” 

“AGGGGGH! OW! Ow,” he groaned, “That feels-” he stopped, caught off guard, as Bulma drew one final line with her pen, connecting the point where all the lines converged to the tiny machine attached to his nervous system. Slowly, he moved his arms. 

He could feel the AC-propelled breeze running across his arms. He took a step, and felt the cool air of the lab on his legs. He looked down, and saw that the lines Bulma had drawn were now glowing a soft blue color, the same shade as her eyes. He lifted his hand, and reached up to touch one of the bands of skin. It was like touching his arm while wearing a glove. He could feel the cool rubber against his arm, and he could feel the texture of his new artificial skin against his finger. 

His vision went half-blurry, and without thinking, he rubbed his eye. He could feel the tears on his fingertips, just barely. 

“What’s the verdict, Vic?” 

She let out a small squeak as he pulled her into a hug, and spun around with her, “It’s amazing. It- it almost feels like the real thing. Like I’m just wearing gloves, instead of not having hands at all,” he said wistfully, “God, you’re a genius. Thank you. Thank you.” 

“I’m glad,” she said softly, before something caught her attention. Or rather, the lack of something. She frowned in confusion, and as Vic set her down, she stepped away and moved towards one of the counters, “Hey Vic?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I set Red Tornado’s capsule and the Dragon Radar here , right?” 

“Next to the sealed-up bomb,” Vic’s face fell, “My Dad didn’t recognize her,” he realized. 

“Shit,” Bulma cursed, before running towards the door and slamming her hand on the intercom button, “Get me security!” she shouted into it, “We’ve got a thief in the building!” 

Chapter Text

“I’ve heard of Intergang and Red Ribbon working together before,” Doctor Flappe said wearily, “But I didn’t expect them to send them after me like this. I hoped that with the fall of Stag Tower, they’d have bigger things to worry about, but that was foolish. Red Ribbon always executes its defectors.” 

Clark and Eel shared a concerned look, “So what do we do?” Eel asked.

“I’ll… go to the government, maybe,” Flappe said, “Get put into witness protection. Bring my wife into protection with me. If you’re successful in finding the Dragon Balls and heal Vic, he’ll probably have to join us.” 

“Right, the Dragon Balls,” Iris said, suddenly speaking up, “Where are they? Doctor, maybe you could buy your freedom? Red Ribbon is a business, after all.”

Yamcha and Eel both glanced at Clark, who put a protective hand over the bag he had been using to carry them, “That won’t work,” Clark said, “There’s no way I’m giving them these.” 

“Right! If we give them the balls, how would we heal Victor?” Flappe asked. 

“Not to mention that we’d have to deal with whatever the Red Ribbon wishes for,” Doctor Brief said, “An organization like that feels like some pretty nasty hands to leave unlimited power in. It could mean the end of the world.” 

Clark nodded, “It’s like Doctor Sivana all over again… but we did manage to bring him down in the end.” 

“The FBI and Interpol brought down Doctor Sivana, we only made sure he didn’t become all-powerful before they could do it,” Yamcha corrected, “And this problem is on a whole different scale. Doctor Sivana only had four minions and funded his whole operation out of pocket. Red Ribbon is one of the largest companies in the world. When Doctor Sivana went to the League of Assassins, he was only able to get them to send me , a freshly-trained agent without even one kill to my name, but Red Ribbon can and has commissioned the most skilled and dangerous agents the League could provide. Maybe people on Son Gohan’s level, or even stronger. The stuff I’ve seen senior agents pull off…” he shuddered. 

“So it’s hopeless?” Flappe asked. 

“It’s not hopeless,” Clark said, glaring a little at Yamcha, “I’m still going to look for the Dragon Balls, and I’m still going to heal the cyborgs. All this talk about us being doomed isn’t helping.” 

“I just want to keep things in perspective. Talk realistically about what kind of threat we’re facing,” Yamcha said. 

“We?” Eel asked nervously, “ I never messed with Red Ribbon.” 

Yamcha crossed his arms, “If Flappe has a target on his back for deserting, you can bet that Clark has an even bigger one for taking out their officers and grabbing the Dragon Balls before they can. The two of us are probably going to be on their radar soon too, considering we interfered with their hit on Flappe.” 

“Oh. Huh,” Eel frowned, “Well that’s unfortunate.” 

Clark put his hands on his hips, “Stop with the doomed talk,” he said, “Doctor Flappe won’t have to live in witness protection, Red Ribbon aren’t going to kill us all with assassins or mobsters, and we will be making our wish.”

“How are you so sure?” Iris asked, stepping closer to Clark and bending to look him in the eyes, “The Red Ribbon managed to conquer a whole country. They might even conquer the world without the help of the Dragon.” 

“That’s simple. I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing. Take them down bit by bit, squad by squad, officer by officer, until they don’t have the people to hurt anyone anymore,” Clark said, his expression determined.

“You’ll kill every single member of the Red Ribbon?” Iris asked, going wide-eyed. 

“What!?” he flinched back, “No! Where did that come from? I’m not going to kill anyone!” 

“But you said-” she reached towards him, “-you took out Colonel Silver and General White.” 

“They- neither of them are dead!” Clark protested, “And well, technically Red Tornado knocked out Silver, and Metamorpho knocked out White but…” 

Iris stepped backwards, with a worried expression on her face, “...You’re a very brave little boy,” she said, “But you’re going to get yourself killed. I… I need some fresh air.” She looked towards Doctor Flappe, “Doctor, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened to you. It was good to see your face again, at least, and I hope that things go well with you and your son,” she smiled at Doctor Brief, “It’s an honor to meet you too,” finally, she turned to the three who rescued her, “And… I hope that you can pull off some kind of miracle with Red Ribbon. But I think it’s about time I headed back to STAR. Find out what they’re going to do about the damage.” 

“Can I walk you out?” Yamcha offered. 

“...Thank you,” Iris said, following his lead. 

Eel huffed out a sigh, before looking at Clark “That’s your brilliant plan? Fight them one at a time until they run out of guys?” 

“It’ll be tough,” Clark admitted, “But most of the people working for Red Ribbon are just ordinary guys, using ordinary guns. And right now, they’re spread out across the world, looking for the Dragon Balls in bite-sized groups. I don’t have to win against everything the Red Ribbon can throw at me all at once, I just have to keep winning against one branch at a time.” 

Eel crossed his arms, and glared up at the ceiling, “Fine!” he suddenly said, “You convinced me! I’ll go with you. Apparently, you need someone to remind you that you aren’t invincible, because the moment we let you go out on your own, you start picking fights with world powers.” 

“Eel!” Clark swung forwards and hugged him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” Eel muttered, “Besides, you know out of our little group, I’m the only one who’s actually bulletproof.” 

“I know. Do you think that Yamcha and Bulma would agree to come too?” 

“Probably,” Eel said, glancing towards Doctor Brief, “You wouldn’t have a problem with it, would you?” 

Brief shrugged, “Bloomy can take care of herself just fine. Especially if she’ll have all of you there to back her up.”

“Even if she’s making herself an enemy of Red Ribbon?” Eel pressed. 

“Red Ribbon has had it out for Capsule Corp for years,” Brief said casually, “They haven’t gotten rid of us yet.” 

It was at that moment that the alarms suddenly started ringing out, and an artificial voice started playing over the intercoms “This building is now in lockdown. Security robots have been deployed. All personnel are advised to remain where they are if they can safely do so.”

Doctor Flappe flinched, “Is it Intergang? Red Ribbon? Are they hitting here next?” 

The sound of thumping steps filled the room behind them, and they turned to see the new-and-improved Vic running full-tilt towards them, Bulma carried over his shoulder. 

Doctor Brief grinned wide, “Tron lines! Very cool Bloomy, I like it.” 

She ignored her Dad’s praise, simply focusing her efforts in holding onto Vic as he came to a sudden stop in front of them, “Where is she!? Where’d she go!?” Bulma shrieked. 

“Who?” Doctor Brief asked. 

“Your ‘intern’, the one who you didn’t recognize,” Vic said, looking at his Dad, “Where’d she go?” 

“She was going to head back to STAR Labs,” Flappe said, “All of this stress was starting to get to her. Um, Yamcha, was it? The tall one, he was showing her out.” 

“That way?” Vic asked, jabbing his finger towards the door they first entered the zoo from. 

“That way!” Bulma agreed. With that, he started running again, charging towards the exit. Clark and Eel, caught off guard, quickly moved to follow, Clark’s speed and Eel’s ability to bounce letting them catch up with the heavy cyborg despite his head start. 

“What’s going on?” Clark asked. 

“She’s a thief!” Bulma growled, “She stole Red Tornado’s capsule, and the Dragon Radar, and my personal capsule case, and the capsule holding Vic’s bomb!” 

“Oh no,” Clark said suddenly. He froze in place, and nearly tripped as he came to a sudden stop. The others rushed on ahead towards the door, but Clark’s hands dropped down to his hip, and to the bag that was attached to his belt. Or rather, his hands dropped down to where it should be. He couldn’t feel it. 

He looked down, and confirmed the bag was missing. She had lifted it off of him when she had gotten close- he was too focused on what she was saying, he hadn’t noticed the meager weight disappearing. 

The Dragon Balls were gone.

Chapter Text

Rose kept her face in its same mask of worry and concern, and allowed herself to lean back against the handsome young man escorting her outside. It’s not like she was going to see him again, she could afford to be a little indulgent. Especially since he used to be a part of the League of Assassins! She was more than a little bit of a fangirl. She took pride in her work as a mercenary, but they made an artform of killing.

But it was a boys-only club, as her father gleefully informed her, once upon a time.

They were out of the strange indoor zoo and walking through the lobby when everything went wrong. 

“This building is now in lockdown. Security robots have been deployed. All personnel are advised to remain where they are if they can safely do so.” Stated an artificial voice over the intercoms. As it did, she watched as shutters dropped over the windows, and listened to the loud thunk of the door locking itself.

“What-” Yamcha began. 

Rose suppressed a grin, and threw herself to the ground, covering her head, “It must be Intergang! They’re back!” she cried out. 

Yamcha threw himself between her and the doors, suddenly on high alert. His hand moved for his waist, reaching for a sword which wasn’t there. She considered her next move carefully. She wouldn’t last long in a straight fight, obviously, so she would have to delay a confrontation with as much chaos as possible. The question was who would come through the door first. 

If it was the boy, then revealing herself might be the best bet. Throw her father’s death in his face. The boy apparently didn’t recognize Red Tornado’s finishing blow on her father for what it was. The knowledge that the cyborg he befriended had killed right in front of him should at least distract him for a short time.

If it was the shapeshifter… maybe try to blame him for the alarm? Bring up his path as a thief? No, no, that was too obvious. And everyone here already was aware of it. 

If it was the girl- 

The door to the zoo that had been behind them suddenly swings open, Cyborg Eight with… a new paint job, apparently, carrying the girl over his shoulder. 

-she would get to do the fun plan. Rose reached out and grabbed Yamcha’s arm. The boy turned towards her, surprised, and went wide-eyed as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his own. She smiled as she heard Bulma let out a squawk of shock. She was about to pull away, but before she could, Yamcha suddenly shoved her away. She went stumbling back half a dozen feet, almost falling over completely, but managed to catch herself in time to look up to see Yamcha with his arms extended, a gobsmacked look on his face. He slowly blinked, before turning beet red and stumbling back himself, as if she had shoved him .

The reaction wasn’t what Rose expected, but it at least helped put some distance between them. 

“ HOW DARE YOU!!!! ” Bulma roared, scrambling off of Vic’s shoulder and falling to the ground in a heap, racing over to Yamcha’s side but keeping her glare on Rose’s retreating form, “How dare you- you- you !” 

“Uh,” Yamcha replied, turning his attention back to Bulma and regaining his senses, “I swear it’s not what it looks like!”

“I know that!” Bulma growled.

“I don’t know why she would do that-” he stammered.

Rose didn’t hear the rest of it, already darting out of sight as they focused on each other rather than on the thief getting away. She dashed out through the lobby, dodging between alarmed Capsule Corp employees, keeping her eyes on the area around her, looking for a way out. She heard thudding steps coming up behind her, and dove to the right, sliding into a cubicle and ducking under a desk. She watched as a blur of silver and glowing red and blue shot past her, the apparently-upgraded Cyborg 8 continuing his charge past her and deeper into the building. 

After a few moments, there was a whirring sound, and she watched as a squad of spherical robots hovered by, their spindly arms held out in front of them ready to capture.

She frowned for a moment, before shrugging off her labcoat and splaying out her capsules in front of her- including the ones she stole from the lab. She left the Dragon Balls and the Dragon Radar where they were, bundling them up in the coat to keep them secure. She considered her options, before selecting one that contained a small bomb, along with an empty storage caspule. She put away the rest of the capsules on her belt, grabbed the bundle, and then inched her way out of the cubicle, moving closer to the wall. Once she used the devices, she’d be alerting everyone to her position, so she would have to do this quickly. 

She stopped next to the wall, and held out the storage capsule over her bundle, and the explosive charge close to the wall. 

She pressed both buttons at once. 

The burst of vapor from one of them dropped the explosive charge into her waiting hand, just as expected, but the storage capsule… didn’t take. 

She tried it again. There was another loud pop of vapor, but the bundle still didn’t disappear. She began to try again rapidly, making a lot of noise, but it still wouldn’t work!

“Is there a mouse or something in here!?” She growled, quickly untying the lab coat again, but she couldn’t see anything that might be disrupting the capsulization. What could it be?

“HEY!” shouted Cyborg 8, who had whipped back around the corner and skidded to a halt upon noticing her, the security robots following his lead like a bunch of ducklings and clustering around him, “There you are! Give those back!”

“Shit, made too much noise,” she snarled, before slapping the charge against the wall and scooping up her bundle again. With the press of a button, the charge began to beep and she started running. 

Vic was torn between following her and dealing with the bomb, but luckily the security robots made his decision for him, four of the spherical little machines quickly hovering towards the wall and analyzing the bomb that was placed there, while the others turned to pursue the apparent criminal. Deciding to follow the ones chasing, he resumed running. Despite the tension of the situation, he found himself smiling. He could feel the breeze running across his skin for the first time since the explosion. He was moving faster than he ever had since getting his new body, too. 

For the last year, he had to move so slowly, so deliberately. He didn’t quite know where his arms and legs would be when he finished moving them, not like it was with his old body. But now… it wasn’t just his sense of touch that had returned with the strips of synthetic skin and the bands of sensors. He was starting to get his spatial sense back too. 

He outpaced the floating robots, and quickly caught up with the woman just as she turned a corner and found herself face-to-face with Clark and Eel. She skidded to a halt, almost stumbling, before reaching into her jacket and pulling out a capsule marked with a warning label. 

His bomb. 

“Not one step closer!” the woman called out, waving the capsule threateningly, “If I go up in flames, the Dragon Balls and the radar will too!” 

“Why are you doing this?” Clark demanded, drawing the Nyoibo from his back and leveling it towards her.

“My job,” she said with a snarl, slowly moving backwards towards the nearest shuttered window. 

“Why does STAR Labs want the Dragon Balls?” Eel asked. 

“I don’t work for STAR,” the woman grinned sadistically, “Thank you, by the way, for leading me right to everything I was looking for. I knew that searching for Flappe would get me what I wanted, and you boys helpfully showed me that I was scouting for him in the wrong place.” 

Vic took a heavy step closer, and she tensed her arm, around the capsule, “Don’t move one inch, Cyborg Eight, or I’ll crack this thing open.” 

“That’s not my name,” he growled out, practically on automatic. His arm switched to cannon mode, and the woman flinched back, “I’m guessing the one you gave isn’t yours, either. Who are you?” 

“...Colonel Rose,” she said.

“Silver’s daughter,” Vic sneered, “Looks like you got a promotion. Don’t tell me the old man’s a general now.” 

“No, I simply took over for him after he died,” Rose said, turning her icy blue gaze on Clark, “After you and Red Tornado murdered him.” 

“What!?” Clark lowered the staff, and took a step back, “I didn’t- Tornado wouldn’t-” 

“I saw his body myself,” Rose said, “He had the air ripped from his lungs. It must have been agonizing.” 

Clark’s expression turned haunted, and she saw her chance. She dove towards the boy while he was distracted, snapping off the seal on the bomb’s capsule with her thumb, and forced it into his face just as it uncapsulized. She slipped past him as he moved to desperately catch the bomb and started fleeing for the door, leaving the small, incredibly dangerous metal block in Clark’s hands. 

“Crap!” Clark shouted. 

Eel sighed, and snatched the bomb from the boy, before opening his mouth and dropping it down his throat. 

Vic stared in horror, “Why would you do that!?” he screamed. 

“You two go after her, I’ve got this covered,” Eel said with a sigh, striding towards the wall and then turning one of his arms into a spike. He pierced the metal shutter covering the window, and tore open a small hole. 

“R-right,” Clark said, still shaken, “Come on, Vic!”

“Your friend ate my bomb!” Vic protested, even as Clark started running after Rose. 

“He’ll be fine,” Clark said as he vanished around a corner. 

“It’s a Dragon Ball hunt,” Eel said to Vic, resigned and annoyed, “Which means, of course, that I’m going to end up melting on a regular basis.” 

Vic watched in horror as Eel morphed himself through the small hole in the shutter, before recentering himself and moving to follow Clark, “If you say so,” he said to himself, “ God my life’s weird.” 

Chapter Text

Rose was panting as she ran, trying to keep her bundle together under one arm while she searched her belt with the other for another charge to blow open an exit for herself. Her eyes darted ahead as she realized that by this point, she had made a rotation around the entire Capsule Corp facility- the whole place was just one big circle, after all. She looked hopefully towards the wall where she planted the first charge, but the robots had apparently disarmed it before it could go up. Yamcha and Bulma were waiting for her there, alongside the other security robots. They were both red in the face, but rather than being at each other’s throats, they were focused entirely on her. 

She eyed Yamcha warily, before selecting her capule and depositing a rocket launcher in her free hand. 

“Out of my way,” she ordered. She knew she couldn’t take Yamcha in a fist fight, but she doubted he could shrug off a missile, and the girl definitely wouldn’t. 

“Iris,” he stated, taking a step forward, “It’s over. I don’t know why you… did any of the stuff you did, but you’re not getting out of here with anything you stole.” 

“Out of my way!” she shouted again, pressing her finger against the trigger. 

“Stop!” Clark suddenly yelled from behind her, Vic close behind. 

She was surrounded.

She heaved the rocket launcher straight upwards, and pulled the trigger. 

The missile sailed up and crashed into the ceiling in a massive fireball that sent dust and pieces of the roof collapsing downwards all around them. Bulma let out a gasp, and slapped a hand on her watch, lights appearing around her as she vanished out of sight. Yamcha darted down to the ground to grab something, and leaped back, while Clark and Vic forged on ahead into the sudden avalanche. 

Vic ignored the debris dropping on top of him as he pushed through to the center of the destruction, watching as Rose tossed aside the rocket launcher and plucked another device from her belt. In a burst of vapor a hoverbike appeared, and she quickly straddled it and yanked on the handle, sending the vehicle zipping straight upwards into the newly-made gate to the sky. 

Clark swore under his breath and jammed the Nyoibo into the ground, before latching on and willing it to expand. The pole grew and grew, lifting Clark through the hole in the roof and into the sky, but height wasn’t enough, with the way Rose was rocketing off into the distance, aiming for the labyrinth of skyscrapers and skyways that made up Metropolis. 

He was going to lose her! Lose Red Tornado! Lose the Dragon Balls!

He screamed in frustration and kicked off the power pole as hard as he could, launching himself at Rose in a pose similar to a swimmer’s dive. He was sent flying through the sky, hundreds of feet over the ground. He focused completely on the woman and her hoverbike as it seemed to get closer. In a few more seconds he could maybe get within reach!

But gravity had a hold on him. 

He was losing height, even as he approached her. His forward momentum hadn’t been enough. He began gathering energy for a Kamehameha, using the blast of yellow light to propel him just a little bit further, get a little bit closer. But the light drew Rose’s attention, and she quickly veered off to the side, disappearing behind a building in a sharp turn he wouldn’t be able to match.

The blast in his hands dissipated, and he began to fall.

Clark’s expression fell. What would he do without the radar, without Red Tornado’s capsule? The fear had only just hit him when the emotion was interrupted by a loud noise coming up from behind him. He turned his head to try and spot it, and immediately noticed something shiny propelled by a bright flaring red light. “Clark!” Vic shouted, sailing through the sky, “Grab on!” 

A wide smile split his face as Clark grabbed onto Vic as the older teen shot by, only barely keeping a grip on the smooth metal of his shoulder as they rocketed after Colonel Rose, “You can fly!?” Clark asked, delighted. 

“Now I can, thanks to your friend, I have both arm cannons again, even better than before!” Vic shouted over the roar of the wind surrounding them. Sure enough, both of Vic’s arms were completely transformed into their cannon modes, continuously pumping out flaring red energy. Rather than the narrow barrel the cannons had before, which focused the energy into a beam, these ones flared outwards, diffusing the energy as it rushed out and creating an effect like two giant, continuous explosions erupting out of Vic’s limbs. “This is why those Red Ribbon bastards called me Red Dynamo!” With expert movements, Vic shot around the same building Rose vanished behind, putting the thief back in their sights.

Rose whipped her head back towards them and loudly cursed, before yanking back on the handlebars of the hoverbike and began darting rapidly between buildings and curves to try and throw them off.

Vic’s expression shifted to a cocky grin as he amped up the energy production, making the whirring of his engine groan even louder. He angled his arms slightly differently, and veered off to the side in a wide arc, before immediately swinging his arms the other way to drift into the next curve, avoiding crashing into one skyscraper after the next as he focused on keeping Rose in sight. 

Clark held onto Vic’s shoulder with both hands as he pulled himself at first to his knees, and then onto one knee, bracing himself with one leg and preparing to push off with the other. 

“Can you get me a straight shot?” Clark shouted over the wind. 

“You got it!” 

The engine rumbled even louder, the explosions of light propelling them growing larger, brighter, hotter, leaving fading red glowing trails in the sky behind them. Vic’s arms lashed out as he struggled to navigate the labyrinth of towers they were flying through, but he never lost sight of Rose.

Finally, they whipped around the mammoth Luthorcorp building and for a brief moment, there was nothing between them and her, nothing for her to dive behind. Just for a fraction of a second there would be his straight shot. Before, Vic could have never even considered attempting it. But for the first time in a year, he could feel the wind against his skin. Actually feel the speed they were moving at. He could tell where every part of his body was. 

He could feel again. He could make this shot. 

Maybe. 

“ Hail Mary! ” Vic roared.

The words weren’t all the way out of his mouth when he flipped himself over and launched Clark from his back. 

Caught off guard, Clark found himself spinning through the air at incredible speed only to see a flash of red below him. His arm darted out, he grabbed on and gripped as hard as he could- and felt the crunching of metal between his fingers. 

Blinking in surprise, he realized that he was dangling off the back of the hoverbike, his hand embedded just below the seat. He glanced upwards, and met the horrified eyes of Rose. 

Clark yanked himself forwards and punched the bike, embedding his other hand in the vehicle. He felt his fingers tear through wires, tubes, moving parts.

Rose bit back a swear, only barely able to keep her grip on the handles of her vehicle, desperately trying to remain in control as the thing keeping them airborne started to fail. They dropped down towards one of the glass tubes that ran from skyscraper to skyscraper, and Clark winced as they smashed through the top, crumpled the front of the hoverbike, and scraped down the road as other vehicles desperately dodged around them. Clark ripped his hands free from the hoverbike and grabbed it, and Rose, and dragged them both to the edge of the sky tunnel, leaving room for traffic to pass them by. 

Rose tried to stumble to her feet, but Clark was on her in a second, and delivered a precise knock-out punch that dropped the Colonel like a sack of bricks. He took the bundled-up coat from her now-limp arms, and began to unfold it. 

He noticed the shine of the Dragon Balls first, and sighed in relief as he put them back in his own bag. The Dragon Radar he ignored for the moment, afraid of damaging it further by trying to move it. Finally, he found Red Tornado’s capsule, and let out a sigh of relief. As the tunnel was lit by red light, he saw Vic approaching, and lifted up Tornado’s capsule and one of the Dragon Balls, “Got them!” Clark shouted. 

“Oh thank God,” Vic muttered, coming down for a landing near the hole Rose’s hoverbike made in the roof of the tunnel. 

“Nice throw!” Clark shouted as he grinned up at him.

“Nice catch,” Vic shot back as he grinned just as wide.

Chapter Text

Vic descended towards Capsule Corp, diffusing the energy running through his arms more and more even as he ramped down how much he was putting out. After a few seconds, he dropped the last few feet with a loud thump, and shook out his arms as the cannons reverted back to hands. Clark dropped down from his shoulders, and then caught the unconscious form of Rose as Vic shrugged his other shoulder. 

Clark began walking towards the doors, only to hear Eel shout: “Wait! Don’t get any closer!” 

Clark turned, and saw that in the middle of the yard, almost a hundred feet from the building, Eel was sitting on the ground, “What’s wrong?” Clark shouted. 

“The bomb hasn’t gone off yet!” Eel said, “I did my whole heroic speech and everything, but the bomb’s not cooperating.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Vic asked, “If you… spit it out, maybe we could have an actual bomb disposal squad show up and deal with it?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Eel said, “Okay, here goes- remember, stay back!” 

“We’re staying back,” Clark assured. 

Eel made a face, concentrating, “Alright, I’ve got it. Now I just need to-” tick tick tick tickticktick “-oh, nevermind.” 

Clark flinched back at the sound. 

“So how long does this last?” Eel asked casually. TocktocktockTOCKTOCK TOCKTOCKTOCK

“L-less than a minute,” Clark said, watching, “Probably faster without nitrogen to cool it down. Maybe we could get it back into a capsule, before we-” 

TOCKTOCKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK CLUH-CHUNK!

Eel swelled up like a massive balloon, filling with light and force and expanding outwards like a sphere nearly fifty feet in diameter- and then the massive form of his friend opened his mouth, and smoke poured out, letting him deflate into a giant half-melted pile of plastic. 

Clark and Vic rushed over to him, worried, but only a few seconds passed before Eel pulled himself back together and shuddered, “Yay, Dragon Ball hunts,” he muttered. Clark threw his hands around him in a hug, and Eel smiled indulgently, patting him on the back. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

“That was inside me for a year,” Vic said, shuddering. 

The trio made their way back into the Capsule Corp building, and Clark proudly presented all the stolen objects. Both Dragon Balls, the Dragon Radar, Bulma’s pink capsule case, and of course, the capsule containing Red Tornado. 

Bulma rushed up to them and quickly began inspecting them, before breathing out a sigh of relief, “Thank goodness for you, Clark. And I see you caught the perpetrator, ” Bulma growled, narrowing her eyes at the unconscious Rose. She snapped her fingers, and robots surged forwards grabbing the woman from where Vic was carrying her, “Bring her right to security! Search for capsules! And don’t take your eyes off her until they’re ready to hand her off to the cops!” The robots bustled forwards to obey, and Bulma huffed, “The nerve of that girl, kissing someone else’s boyfriend right after stealing from her.” 

Yamcha, for his part, simply blushed and looked away, embarrassed at the whole situation. 

Bulma picked up Tornado’s capsule, and considered it for a moment before looking at Vic, Clark, and Eel, “You know, you guys have only been here a few hours, and already Red Ribbon is attacking us more brazenly than they have in years . We might want to head out sooner rather than later.”

“But what about the radar? And Tornado?” Clark asked. 

“The radar shouldn’t take too long. You have all the parts, I just need to put them back in the right places. As for Tornado, I’m going to check him out once I’ve put on something more appropriate.” She handed the capsule back to Clark. 

“I’ve been wondering about that. How, exactly?” Vic asked, “The moment we let him out of his capsule, the bomb is going to finish its job. I’m… not excited to see that, especially now that we’ve seen a bomb like it in action.” 

Bulma grinned brilliantly, “Clark, do you remember on the beach, when I was telling you how capsules worked and you gave me a really great idea ?” 

“Yes?” Clark offered, “Wait, isn’t that the same kind of stuff Red Ribbon was doing to Vic?” he asked, worried. 

“Red Ribbon had to brute force their way through it because they don’t have anyone with my level of intelligence on the payroll. I came up with a way better option,” she held out her wrist, and then pressed a button on the bulky-looking watch that was sitting there. Immediately, three tiny spheres of light erupted out of it and began to rapidly orbit her. The spheres sped up to the point where their orbits had become solid bands of light that had stabilized into three glowing halos around her body. 

Clark and Vic watched Bulma in surprise, while Yamcha merely tensed up. She proudly pressed a different button on the watch. Less than a second later, the halos suddenly contracted, and Bulma’s body shrunk right alongside it, the young woman dwindling down until she was only a few inches tall, at which point she removed her fingers from the watch. 

Clark dropped to the ground, getting his face more level with her, “Bulma!?” he asked, shocked. 

“Say hello,” she said with a much quieter voice, “to the wonderful Micro Band!” Yamcha got down on one knee, and held his hand next to her. She jumped up onto it, and Yamcha got back up again, holding her out for the others to better see her.

Eel formed his hand into a magnifying glass and leaned in closer, “Tired of being the only one in the gang without superpowers, huh Bulma?” 

“Being a super-genius is already the best superpower,” she protested, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Vic stared down at her, his organic eye wide, “How- how are you not dead?” 

“A lot of sciencey reasons, but basically, we narrowed down the reason for the brain damage being some kind of problem with the way suspendium- which puts objects that are capsulized into stasis -and neutronium- which is what causes the capsulized objects to grow or shrink -interacts. The problem with shrinking things or growing them, though, is that it makes them vulnerable to damage by a universe that’s the wrong size for them. Do you know how much damage even just a photon can do to something when that photon is a lot bigger than it’s supposed to be? How much more dangerous radiation gets the smaller you become? How objects that grow too large can lose cohesion and just plain melt down due to the space between their atoms getting too wide for nuclear forces to bridge?”

Vic, Eel, Yamcha, and Clark shared a terrified look. 

“Don’t look at me that way, I obviously figured it out,” Bulma said, grumbling, “The point is. Suspendium was necessary to protect the shrunken objects from all of that. It was the best protection we had at the time. But I, being the brilliant genius I am,” she said, gesturing to herself proudly, “have come up with a different method of protection that doesn’t require suspendium at all!” she held her hands up towards the rings that surrounded her, “No suspendium, no bad interactions, no brain damage! What this does instead, is keep up a neutronium field going constantly. Anything that’s harmful due to being the wrong size will end up changing in size to match me before it can touch my body, as well as working in reverse. Plus, I have a suit to add an extra, redundant level of protection.” 

“Wait… are you going to shrink down into the capsule?” Vic asked, “That’s your big plan for saving Red Tornado?” 

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. She jumped off Yamcha’s hand, and dropped the relative significant distance down to the ground without any apparent harm. She tapped the button again, and quickly the halos around her expanded, and she grew with them, surging upwards until she was twenty feet tall, “Oops, look, just let me…” she shrunk again, dipping shorter than Clark, and then just barely taller than Yamcha, before settling at her right height, “...and the readings are telling me I’m back to genuine zero. Normal height.” The halos faded away, returning to being three dots of light that retreated back into the Micro Band. 

“Wouldn’t that just mean you would get caught in the explosion?” Yamcha asked, worried.

Bulma grinned, “You mean the explosion that’s in stasis ?” She shrugged, “Shouldn’t be a problem. I shrink down, I pull free anything intact, and then I escape with the intact pieces of Red Tornado, leaving the actual still-frozen explosion behind. Once we leave the capsule, I work my technical genius, and we save his life.” 

Chapter Text

Yamcha found himself blushing as Bulma strolled out of her room in her new suit. It covered her entire body, from head to toe, but was practically skin-tight. The main body of it was a dark blue, only interrupted by a white printed representation of an atom with the Capsule Corp logo acting as the nucleus, and the red visor that covered her eyes. Covering her legs were thigh-high red boots made out of a different material from the rest of the suit, with what appeared to be extra armoring, and small boosters on the feet. Her arms were similarly armored with long red gloves that reached almost to her shoulders, and thick gauntlets near her hands, with a specific place on the right arm for the Micro Band itself to be placed where it could be protected.

“How do I look?” she asked, putting one hand on her hip. 

“Uhhh.” Yamcha began, before Eel reached over and nudged his mouth shut with a finger. 

“Nice plug suit,” Eel said. 

“It’s not a- ugh! Nevermind,” Bulma huffed. 

“I think it’s cool. You look like a real superhero,” Clark said.

“Thank you, Clark,” Bulma said, “But this isn’t what a superhero looks like. I mean, where’s the cape? The fancy helmet ? This is just an environmental suit. Besides, what would even be my superhero name?”

“The Atom?” her father suggested. 

“Wasn’t he a part of the All-Star Squadron?” she asked. 

“Yeah, but he’s dead. Not like anyone else’s using the name,” Doctor Ray Palmer Brief said with a shrug.

“I’d prefer something with Micro in it,” Bulma said, gesturing to her watch, “You know, like the Micro Band? Ah, whatever. My point is, not a superhero. I’m a super scientist.”

Vic watched as his father finished clamping the capsule containing Red Tornado in place. “I think we’re ready if you are, Miss Brief,” Doctor Flappe said. 

“You’re sure this is going to work?” Vic asked, a bit nervously, “Could any of us go in there with you?” 

“Sorry. For the moment, the Micro Band is only really adjusted for my body,” she said, “I could maybe fit Clark inside the Bohr radius of the Micro Band, but he’d have to be hugging me the whole time. It’s safer if I handle this myself. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll get your friend out of there as… well, as safely as he can get out of there.” 

“Right, sorry,” Vic said, “Good luck.” 

“I don’t need luck, I’m a scientist.” 

“Luck is science Bloomy,” Doctor Brief said cheerfully from where he was leaning against a desk, “It’s called probability.” 

“I- ugh, I just wanted to say something cool before I shrink down. Is that too much to ask?” 

“You’re very cool, Bulma,” Yamcha said, grinning, “Now go save someone’s life.” 

Flappe and Doctor Brief moved closer to the surgery table- the same one Vic was attached to while Bulma worked on him -which was decked out in supplies meant to help save Red Tornado, regardless of the condition of his body. From what Clark saw, most of Red Tornado’s torso had already exploded when he was zapped back into the capsule.Which meant that at the moment, they would be focused on doing whatever they could to save the head. Luckily, Flappe was an expert in the construction of the Red Ribbon Cyborgs. It didn’t take long for their custom-parts printer to make life support machines suitable for their purposes.

Bulma took a deep breath through the mask of her suit, and bent down into a runner’s start. Everyone dutifully stepped out of the way between her and the capsule. 

She took off running, and with a specific movement of her hand, the glove activated the Micro Band. The lights once more shot out of her, forming intersecting halos around her body as she shrunk smaller and smaller. Finally, she took a flying leap, and sailed through the air even as she got tinier. They could barely see her as she activated the jets in the bottom of the feet, carrying her the rest of the distance to the capsule itself. 

From her own perspective, the distance from the capsule seemed to remain the same, even as everything in the world grew larger all around her. The capsule went from a device the size of her thumb, to the size of a football, to larger than a bus as she jumped off the floor. As she sailed through the air it grew to the size of a house and then a skyscraper as her friends watching her quickly swelled into titanic statues she could barely comprehend the scale of.  She deactivated her jets, and kept flying forwards. Gravity was barely an afterthought anymore, she had so little mass to be affected by it. When she finally touched the surface of the capsule, it stretched out into the horizon above and below her, larger than a mountain.

It didn’t take long to find a place to stand. Tiny signs of damage, wear and tear, little bits of oil left behind from fingerprints, created a landscape around her. Hills and valleys, barriers and cliffs. She looked behind her, but she could barely comprehend what she was seeing from this scale. She could more-or-less identify the massive swaths of color in the distance as one of her friends or another, but they were no longer recognizable as something human-shaped. In front of her, on the surface of the metal, she could see germs the size of mice or bugs, tiny bizarre-looking organisms that were so different in three dimensions than they were under a microscope.

It was bizarre, and it was filling her head with ideas. 

But she couldn’t afford to let herself get distracted. She would have all the time she wanted to play around with perspective and physics at her leisure in the future. Right now, she has a job to do. A small motion, and the Micro Band pushed her even further, the three carefully-controlled molecules of White Dwarf Star material that empowered the Micro Band and which controlled her size and mass spun ever more rapidly around her as the surface of the capsule went even further than being a cliffside. 

At this point, she wasn’t even a micron tall. Huh. Micron. She liked the sound of that.

The germs, previously the size of ants, had become gargantuan beasts all around her, patrolling the craggly, uneven and rocky surface of the capsule. Soon, the bacteria too became too large for her to properly distinguish, becoming nothing more than far-off titans, just like her friends were. 

The rocky surface became a beautiful crystalline matrix, and when she reached out to touch the metal, she could just barely feel and see the differences between individual molecules, like individual grains of sand. But more importantly, she could see tiny openings in it, absolutely teeny-tiny tunnels that ran back and forth throughout the structure of all metal. These barely perceptible tunnels weren’t even large enough to let air in or out, the openings smaller than the air molecules outside. As she shrunk, they became caverns large enough for her to pass through. 

Kicking the jets on her feet to activate, she powered ahead. 

There was no air, so there was no air resistance to slow her down. She simply accelerated without limit. She didn’t care as she scraped against walls or just busted through them, they passed around her as if they were nothing but clouds. Any dust that pushed through her protective field was returned to its size relative to her, converted into fragments of metal dust that were too small to be detected under a regular microscope, absolutely harmless as it brushed against her. 

Technically, she could have done this earlier, but it was only now that she was at this scale that she wanted to risk it. Otherwise, she’d put a hole in the capsule that might destabilize it, and accidentally release Red Tornado before he could be helped, and release Red Tornado’s explosion onto her unsuspecting friends and family.

Minutes passed as she rocketed ahead, faster and faster through the endless crystalline maze, until she finally passed through about the millimeter of reinforced metal, and entered into a massive, endless void. Darkness spread out all around her. The only source of light were her three halos. The almost-inch of space that made up the diameter of an inside of the capsule was at her scale an unimaginably vast emptiness, comparable to the darkness of space. A space without stars. She threw her rockets in front of her to slow the acceleration. She didn’t know how many hundreds of thousands of relative miles it took for her speed to slow, but the space was vast enough that she still couldn’t see the opposite end of the capsule by the time she came to a stop.

But she could see them once she began to grow. 

Around her, the vast blackness suddenly went from limited to within a container, the maze of molecules that was the wall behind her vanished into a rough, rocky surface, and then became a craggy cliffside, and then turned into a rough unpolished wall that led to a ceiling a mountain’s height in the distance. 

It was when the inside of the capsule had about the same volume to her as a skyscraper that she could see the miniaturized Red Tornado, caught in the midst of an explosion frozen in time. It was horrific, pieces of metal and singed pieces of internal organs stopped as they were flung away from a near-spherical cloud filled with light. She moved closer, investigating the damage directly. With gentle hands, she reached out and gripped Red Tornado’s head, and pulled it away from the explosion. His neck, his shoulders, and part of his lower back was pulled away with it, the explosion having apparently started closer to the front of his chest than the back.

Flipping it over, she eyed what was left of the organics. Luckily, it seemed like Red Ribbon had decided to keep the brain inside the skull, because she could identify countless tubes leading up into it, focused on maintaining a lifeline. Feeding tubes, oxygen tubes, blood tubes, encased wires meant to carry signals back and forth- even an armored tube that contained his spine, leading up and back to the core of the nervous system.

Red Tornado was one of those cyborgs that was significantly more machine than man, at least in terms of physical mass. 

She mentally listed each of the connections in her brain in order of highest to lowest priority, already lining them up with the life support technology waiting outside- and then realized that it was pointless. There was already too much damage on most of the vital connections. She could attach it to a life support, but nothing would actually get through. She considered lopping off even more of Red Tornado’s body- abandoning his neck and shoulders and truly leaving with only the head -but there was no guarantee that the explosion hadn’t already reached that far and that there was nothing she could do. More than that, it would make the attachment to the life support even more risky without any room at all to spare. 

The only choice would be to capsulize Red Tornado again as soon as possible. He wouldn’t survive long out of stasis, no matter what. She had freed him from the danger of the explosion, but not from the danger of death. 

His only hope would be the Dragon Balls after all. 

She did what repairs she could with only the tools built into her gloves, but there wasn’t much she could do. At most, she would only be able to delay his death. Cradling what little she could save of the cyborg in her arms, she turned towards the opposite wall, and began to accelerate and shrink. 

The space around them grew larger and vaster, until the frozen explosion marking Red Tornado’s body became the equivalent of the sun in her eyes. As she reached the distant wall of the capsule, it transformed back into the crystalline lattice of molecules, and once more she plowed through it without a worry. 

But it was also where she would hit her time limit. 

“Wh-what is… huh!? AGGRH!” 

Leaving the capsule meant leaving the suspendium. Leaving the suspendium meant Red Tornado wouldn’t be in stasis. Luckily, she could move very, very fast like this.

“What is going on!? Who are you!? This isn’t anywhere on Earth! Am I… is this heaven? Hell? Are you an Angel?” 

“I don’t have time to explain!” Bulma shouted, “But just know that I’m a friend of Clark’s, and we’re trying to fix you up.” 

“Where’s the rest of my body?” 

“Still inside the capsule, in a frozen explosion,” she said. 

The metal lattice was left behind, but she didn’t slow down. She shot past the towering forms of microscopic organisms too large to comprehend so quickly she barely registered it, and was now in the endless, endless sky. She threw her jets forward and started decelerating immediately, but in the blink of an eye the gargantuan capsule behind them was too far away to recognize properly as an object.

Y’know, thinking about it, she could actually get pretty close to the speed of light with something like this, couldn’t she? Capsule Corp brand shrinking space ships. Might be something fun to propose to her Dad later. Another thing for the list. 

 The universe around them was endless colors, but otherwise empty. 

“What’s going on? Where are we? Why… why do I feel so cold?” 

“We’re still very small,” Bulma said, “But we’re inside a lab. You feel cold because you’re dying of what we might as well call blood loss. Don’t worry, we’ll fix that soon.”

“Are… we in the space between atoms? I think I saw a movie like that, once.” 

“Ha! No, no, not anywhere close to that small yet. Just let me slow down, and then we’ll get you back inside a capsule without an explosion in it.” 

“I… thank you,” Red Tornado said tiredly, his voice growing quieter, the spaces between words getting longer, “...Tell Clark that… hah, I can’t think of anything. We only knew each other for a few hours… Never expected someone to go this far for someone they barely know… When I went into the capsule I never expected… to be let out. When I asked him to press the button… I… thought that I… would end up in limbo. Forever. Not dead. Not alive. Not a person. Not a ghost…”

“Just hold on Tornado,” Bulma said, eyeing the readings flying across her visor. 

Her speed was slowly approaching zero.

Just a moment more…

There!

She stopped moving, and simply started growing. The world passed around her in a disturbing blur and then stopped as she hit normal size. 

“Empty Capsule now!” she shouted, before turning around and realizing that she was maybe twenty feet from all her friends. 

The others turned around in surprise from where they were standing and waiting, and looked at her in shock. Clark was the first to react, grabbing one from the table that had been brought out just for this emergency purpose. He hit the button, and flung it at them. Bulma held up Red Tornado’s head between her and the capsule, and in a burst of vapor, the weight in her hands vanished. The capsule kept going, and bounced harmlessly off her chest. 

She dropped to her knees as the halo faded, the three motes of Neutronium slowing down and returning to their housing in the Micro Band. She let out a sigh of relief. 

Clark was there in a second, soon followed by Vic, Yamcha, and the others. Vic had a concerned look on his face, “W-well? What’s the verdict?” 

Bulma reached up and pulled on her mask, pulling the fabric up and away from her face, before eyeing Vic, and then the fretful Clark. She didn’t want to disappoint them, but…

 “Sorry guys. There’s nothing more I can do without killing him,” she said slowly, “His only hope now is the Dragon Balls.” 

Chapter Text

“I can tell you’re awake, you know.” 

Rose cracked one eye open to find the brat looking down at her, unimpressed. She was sitting behind bars in the Capsule Corp security station. Robots and guards were by every exit, and the Metahuman brat was sitting in front of the bars, staring her down. She was completely without weapons, not to mention she had an aching jaw and a killer headache. For the moment, she was trapped. 

She swished her mouth a bit, and then spit out a bit of blood at his face. He flinched back, avoiding it, and she found herself smiling a bit at the small amount of control she regained in the situation. 

“Gross!” the teen complained. 

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said, “No matter what threats or torture you employ, one doesn’t turn against Red Ribbon. With this failure, my fate is sealed regardless.” 

“Ugh, we’re not going to torture anyone!” Clark protested, “I’m not going to ask about Red Ribbon. Don’t worry.” 

“Then what are you doing talking with me?” 

“...Did Red Tornado really kill your Dad, or was that just a lie? Like you liking Yamcha, or convincing us to take you to Doctor Flappe.” 

She eyed him for a moment, before slumping back against the wall, “It was true.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“Why? He was trying to kill you. He wasn’t a nice person. He was a war criminal and an assassin. He made my childhood hell.” 

“I’m sorry for that too,” Clark said, “I just wanted… to know, I guess,” he sighed, “I’ll have to be better, next time.” 

“Next time?” 

“Stronger. Faster,” Clark said, “So that I can take care of everything, and nobody has to die. If I knocked out Silver before Red Tornado could get to him…”

“Then he would have been executed by the Red Ribbon,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Clark flinched, “What? Why?” 

“It’s the way of the R-R Army. Success means life, failure means death. Any of us who are dumb enough to end up captured are written off as dead. Anyone who flees in the face of danger is written off as dead. Any one of us who accept a mission, and don’t complete it to the letter… dead. We’re the ultimate meritocracy. A foot soldier could find himself a General, if he does well enough. And in the same way a general could find himself on the chopping block as easily as a foot soldier.” 

“It sounds like everyone in Red Ribbon is crazy.” 

“A little bit,” she admitted. 

“...Can you tell me one thing?” Clark asked, “ Why is your army looking for the Dragons Balls? I asked your Dad, but he couldn’t give me a real answer.” 

“How would I know? I’m not Commander Red.” 

“He said the same thing. Then who is?” 

“You don’t seem to understand the point of codenames, do you, runt?” 

“I don’t think General ‘White’ Stagg understood them either,” Clark said, unimpressed. She rolled her eyes at that, so Clark pressed on, “...Do you not want to live?” 

“Oh? I thought you weren’t going to threaten me,” she asked, amused.

“You said the Red Ribbon would kill you.” 

“Yes.” 

“So, again, don’t you want to live? If you do- then you want the same thing that me and my friends do. To take down the Red Ribbon Army. It won’t be enough to just stop them from getting the Dragon Balls, they need to stop,” Clark said, determined, “Help us. At least in any way you can.” 

“I could save myself if you let me go, too. If you’re so worried about me, then get me out of here. I’ll be a sitting duck in prison,” she turned crocodile tear-filled eyes towards him, only to flinch back at the sheer earnestness in Clark’s own. 

“Help me,” Clark said again, “At least in some small way.”

“It’s a doomed effort anyway. If not me, then some other agent will get a hold of those balls and that radar. And if they don’t, well, the Red Ribbon Army was going to conquer the world with or without Dragon Balls to begin with,” she averted her eyes from him, sinking back in her cell. A thought occurred to her, “Actually, I don’t know how helpful this will be but…” 

“But?” 

“You were going to head for the Dragon Ball in the Atlantic next, right? It’s the closest one to where we are.” 

“I guess? Bulma hasn’t fixed the Dragon Radar yet. But if it is the closest one, yeah, we’ll probably check it out first.” 

“Stick with that plan,” she advised, “General Blue, the guy in charge of it? He’s a notorious clean freak and takes forever to complete his missions because he has to be so prim and proper about it, but he’s not incompetent enough for Commander Red to dispose of. He’s based on a little deserted island there.”

Clark looked at her for a few seconds, before grinning, “It’s a trap, huh?” 

She shrugged. 

“Is General Blue the strongest man in the Red Ribbon?” Clark asked, sounding eager.

“I didn’t lie about anything I said.”

“You didn’t say he was weak, either.”

She shrugged again.

Clark twitched and looked away from Rose to focus on the door. There was some kind of disturbance outside. One of the guard robots suddenly became more alert, and moved towards the door, “Ready for handover to accepted authorities,” it said in a monotone.

Sure enough, just like that day in Japan, regular police marched in, followed by the more-impressive and more-intimidating armored forms of the King’s Guard. 

Yamcha and Bulma stepped in afterwards, Yamcha looking down at Rose with a look of conflicted pity, while Bulma grinned in triumph, “See you Red Ribbon!” she said cheerfully. 

Rose rolled her eyes, but stood up and turned her attention to the nearest of the King’s Guard. “Kid, step away,” the man said, and Clark bristled, but did as he asked. He turned behind him, and another King’s Guard wheeled in the same kind of giant metal high-tech coffin that he had seen them take Kon away in. The same that they used to ferry Bane around during the tournament. 

“This seems like a bit much,” Clark said, moving back to stand with Yamcha and Bulma. 

“She used Metahumans to knock over a government-funded lab, and then tried to rob the headquarters of the richest company in the world,” Yamcha said, “That’s the kind of thing they call in the K-G for.” 

“S’what she deserves,” Bulma said, shrugging, before throwing an arm around Yamcha’s shoulders, “And it’s not like she was just robbing us, you know. She assaulted Yamcha, and I’m pretty sure we could get her on kidnapping for trying to make off with Red Tornado.” 

Rose simply grinned at them as she was loaded into the coffin, and the King’s Guard quickly made their way out, a few of the agents only staying behind to discuss with the Capsule Corp security just what had gone down. 

The trio followed the officers out, and Clark watched as the coffin was loaded into a transport that immediately went flying away- law enforcement being exempt from the usual altitude laws. 

“So,” Yamcha began, “Should we pack up for the trip?” 

“Ugggh,” Bulma groaned, leaning against him, “We just unpacked everything from our trip to Santa Prisca! I need to…” she trailed off, and turned to see that among the many police cars milling about, a shiny black limousine was slowly making its way towards an open spot along the street. On the front was a silver W-shaped hood ornament. 

Could it be? Clark focused on it, and found himself smiling. He could just barely feel ki inside the vehicle, and there weren’t that many people strong enough for him to feel from a distance. “Bruce!” he shouted, before breaking away from the pair and rushing towards the limo, nearly bowling over some of the cops milling around as he did. 

Yamcha tensed up, only to have Bulma nudge him with her hips and shoot him an expectant look. “...Right. I’m gonna be normal around him, don’t worry,” he assured her, “But in exchange…” 

“ Exchange ?” she asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“I’m gonna have a chat with the girls at school about boundaries, and after I do, you’re going to be normal about them . They’re still my friends. Okay?” 

“I- guh, fine,” she said, crossing her arms, “But if one of them-”

“Let me worry about that, okay? Have a little faith.” 

“Okay.” 

Alfred exited the limo, and then moved to open the door for Bruce, who was looking down at Clark with a pleasantly surprised expression, “Hi Alfred, Bruce!” Clark greeted.

“Master Clark,” Alfred acknowledged.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Bruce said as well, looking up and down at the beaten-up appearance of Clark’s uniform, “You’ve gone through the ringer.” 

Clark said, “Do you have a boat?” 

“Uh, yes . I’m a billionaire. I probably have a different boat for every week of the year. Why?” 

“How do you feel about going hunting for Dragon Balls?” Clark asked, excited.

Yamcha tensed up again, only to glance down and see Bulma smirking up at him. He let out a small sigh, but ruffled her hair affectionately. The pair walked over towards the others. Clark had grabbed onto Bruce and Alfred, and was tugging them both towards the doors of Capsule Corp, chattering about everything that had happened to him since they split on Santa Prisca less than a week ago and leading them to where they could chat with Eel and Vic. When Bruce stood in front of Vic, he was forced to look upwards to talk to the teen. It did Yamcha good to see that there was someone who was actually taller and broader than Bruce Wayne. It made him a little less intimidating.

He could do normal, Yamcha decided.

Up in the sky, across the city, Rose leaned back in the container. It was meant to handle Metahumans, and was over-engineered to the point of ridiculousness. She wasn’t going to be escaping it any time soon. But by the same measure, nobody was going to be breaking her out of it any time soon either. 

What she said to the brat was true, earlier. Red Ribbon had always executed members who got arrested. 

But that was before General White got his entire division caught red-handed by the King’s Guard in Norway. Red Ribbon was in deep shit, internationally, because of it. There was attention on those prisoners, and on what they were saying. Organizing things so that one or two people ended up dead in police custody? Easy as pie. The Red Ribbon Army wouldn’t think twice about it. Organizing things so that all the Red Ribbon soldiers that were captured could be taken out? That was going to be a harder nut to crack. If the Red Ribbon Army wanted to make a move that bold, then they’d have to roll out their plans for world domination early. And if they did that… well, they’d have bigger concerns than punishing people who had been captured. They’d be at war with the United Nations. Not to mention they still had to deal with the kid, the rebellious cyborgs, and now the direct ire of Capsule Corp.

For now, Rose decided she could sit pretty. Breaking her out of top security just to kill her would be a waste of resources. She’d be perfectly safe in prison for the foreseeable future-

“What’s that I smell?” the hissing voice of Whisper found its way into her box. Rose flinched, freezing up and desperately looking around, “The sweet scent of a Rose ?” 

-or maybe she’d be killed the very first day in the yard.

“Whisper?” she asked a little nervously.

“Hello neighbor,” came Ugly’s voice as well, “What do you know, looks like they’re going to hold us all at the same place. Even though the pair of us got captured together, and the one who set us up on that fool’s errand in the first place abandoned us and got captured elsewhere .” 

Rose groaned and let herself fall forwards, resting her forehead on the front of her box, “You two agreed to the job of your own free will. You can’t hold a grudge against me for taking a chance to escape, can you?” 

“No, I think we can,” Whisper snarled, “When we get to the prison, we’re going to dedicate ourselves to making you regret it. And without your fancy guns to make up the difference… we’re stronger than you, Rose.”

She gulped.

“Unless,” Ugly began, “You take us with you when you break out.”

She couldn’t break out of this box on her own. Neither Ugly or Whisper could either. But if they were close enough to hear… and they still had their metahuman forms…  then maybe… 

Rose slowly opened her eyes, “Fine, but you’ll have to follow my instructions exactly.”

“We’re in,” Ugly said.

“What do you need us to do?” Whisper asked.

She still wanted to go after the boy again, and Red Tornado, for her revenge. But it was obvious what his path was. He was going to throw himself at the Red Ribbon Army, until either it broke, or he did. 

With war machines like the cyborgs on his side, and help from Capsule Corp and a genuine League of Assassins member… it wasn’t totally inconceivable Clark Kent could succeed. 

So, she decided to point him at General Blue. No General had a poor record- a poor record meant you were already dead -but General Blue’s record was outstanding . The perfectionist general. The one you put on the tasks that absolutely need doing. More than that, General Blue was strong. Not counting the Cyborgs, he was without a doubt the most skilled, most dangerous, most physically powerful man in Red Ribbon. A metahuman. A deadly martial artist. A genius engineer and strategist. An unrepentant killer. Ruthless and focused. She had seen her Dad spar against Blue before, and even without his powers, Blue wiped the floor with the oh-so fearsome Terminator.

It was fitting, then, that if she wouldn’t be the one to avenge her father, then at least the one man her father could never defeat would instead. 

Chapter Text

“...I see. I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Bruce said to Clark, who had finished explaining everything that had happened since they separated in Santa Prisca. He glanced upwards as the door slid open and Bulma and Yamcha strolled out, “You’re all packed?” 

“More or less. You’re all caught up?” Bulma asked right back. 

“More or less,” Bruce echoed, “Although I’m disappointed that we’re derailing the medicinal ki project for this.” 

“I know, but it was dropped right in our laps,” Bulma said, “I’ll make it up to you when I can. Okay? You don’t have to go with us, no matter what Clark’s trying to rope you into. Capsule Corp has plenty of boats too, if we need one. I’m planning on just flying all the way.” 

“I’m not roping anyone into anything,” Clark said defensively, “I’m just giving him the chance to help if he wants to help, is all.” 

“Consider me roped,” Bruce said, “We were just at the brainstorming stage anyway. Maybe we could discuss the project while we travel?” he offered Bulma.

“Sounds like fun,” she agreed. 

Clark’s face split into a grin.

The four of them headed down for the stairs, before exiting back out into the Brief family’s (as well as Eel’s and Yamcha’s) primary living area. Vic and Eel were sitting in front of a gigantic TV, furiously focused on the video game in front of them. It was the first time in a year that Vic had the chance to play one. 

Eel glanced behind him as they approached, and sighed, before pausing the game. 

“Aw- hey, come on!” Vic protested, glaring at Eel before realizing the others were there, “We’re heading out?” 

“Yep!” Bulma said cheerfully, “Shouldn’t take more than a few days this time around,” she said, tapping the button on the top of the recently-repaired Dragon Radar and looking at the placement of the glowing dots on the screen, “As far as I can tell, none of the countries the Dragon Balls have ended up in have no-fly laws. That means smooth sailing from start to finish, rather than road trip style shenanigans.” 

“I mean, pain-stakingly searching the planet for things the size of a baseball while mercenaries and their blackmailed cyborgs try to kill us isn’t quite what I'd call the definition of smooth sailing,” Eel said, getting up. 

Vic took one last lingering look at the video game, before mournfully switching it off and getting up off the ground as well. 

The group made their way down back into the private zoo, and Bulma skipped ahead past the others to throw her arms around her mother, and then her father, “Goodbye Mom, goodbye Dad. I’ll be back before August, for sure.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Bloomy,” her father said, “But you be careful, alright? Are you wearing your Shrinking Suit?” 

“Under my clothes,” she affirmed, showing off the red glove covering her hand.

“Smart girl. Try to avoid nuclear detonations this time around, hm? Worry your old man a little less.” 

“I’ll try.”

“I don’t think I like this whole fighting Red Ribbon Corp thing,” Bulma’s mother said, putting a hand on her cheek in concern, “It seems dangerous. If I had known you would have so many scary people after you last year, I would have never let you go in the first place.” 

“I have Clark and Yamcha and Eel with me,” Bulma said, “In fact, now I have Vic and Bruce here too. I’ll be perfectly fine. Besides, we need that wish. Maybe even more than that, we can’t let the Red Ribbon Army make theirs.”

“But the police…” Jean Brief began. 

“With what happened in Svalbard, Interpol is probably already doing all they can,” Bulma countered, “Maybe they’ll shut down the Red Ribbon and make all of this easier for us… or maybe they can’t. Either way, the cyborgs will still need our help.”

Jean sighed, “I guess it's good that you’re focusing your rebellious phase on helping people.”

“Mom! I’m not in my- oh for goodness sakes, let’s get out of here.” Bulma stalked out of the room, and her parents clasped their hands together, watching her go with a bit of nervousness. 

“I suppose it’d be redundant to ask you to look out for her again?” Doctor Brief said to Clark. 

“A little. Bye, Doctor Brief, Mrs- Jean. Doctor Flappe.” 

Doctor Flappe nodded to Clark, and then looked at his son and let out a deep sigh, “You be careful too, Victor. I… we’re almost free of the Red Ribbon. Please don’t let them kill you. And… take this.” 

“Maybe the next time you see me, I’ll be flesh and blood again,” Vic said. Dr. Flappe stepped forwards, moving for a hug, but faltered when Vic stepped back rather than reciprocate, “...Look forward to that, I guess,” he reached out and took the small list, frowning at it. A list of numbers, followed by a list of body parts. “Is this-” 

“The capsulization button of every Cyborg, as far as I’m aware of.” 

Vic nodded, “Thanks. We’ll help them all.” 

The group headed for the limo that Bruce and Alfred had arrived in, Bulma’s usual hovercar not having enough seats for the new group. Alfred smiled at the lineup, and pressed a button for the doors to all open at once, “Alfred,” Bruce greeted, “Change of plans. How do you feel about a trip around the world?” 

“Very good, Master Bruce. All those gathered here will be coming along, then?” 

“If you don’t mind, Alfred,” Clark said. 

“Not at all, Master Clark. Tell me, what’s our destination?” 

“A little island in the middle of the Atlantic,” Clark said. Bulma passed him the Dragon Radar, and the boy pressed down the button, immensely relieved to find it working again, “If you don’t mind, I can sit up front with you and be the navigator?” 

“I don’t mind in the slightest,” he stepped aside, and opened the door for Clark to bustle his way into the passenger seat, “For everyone else, please, make yourselves at home.” Once everyone was aboard, Alfred closed the doors and took his place behind the wheel, starting up the vehicle and heading for the nearest road heading out to sea.

Soon, they were rocketing out over the open water in the flying limousine, guided by the Dragon Radar towards their destination. 

“So, tell me… what exactly are we going to be doing on this island?” Alfred eventually asked.

“Probably fighting the Red Ribbon Army.” 

“Ah,” the old man said, going a shade paler, “I see.” He slammed his foot on the brakes, halting the flying limo in the middle of the sky, and glared back through the window into the back of the limo, “Master Bruce, a word !” 

DC Character + DB Character = Dragon Ball: Superman Character

• Red Ribbon Part 3: Rose’s Thorns
•  Bruno“Ugly” Mannheim & Whisper “Snake Fatale” A’Daire of Intergang + Hasky’s Followers = Ugly the Boar & Whisper the Snake of Intergang
• Plastic Man + Oolong & Puar = Eel O’Brian
• Jean Loring + Bikini = Jean Brief

• Ravager + Hasky = Colonel Rose | “Iris Rochev” | Ravager

• The Atom & Micron + Bulma = Bulma Brief | Micron

There will be a brief hiatus so that I can build up more of a buffer. Daily chapters will resume again on August 15th.

Thank you for your patience!

Chapter Text

|R><R| Saga Act 4: BLUE’S OCEAN

Commander Red steepled his fingers together, staring up at the screen. 

Two Dragon Balls, General White, Stag Tower and all of its staff, Colonel Silver, Cyborgs Two, Four, Eight, and Nine, and finally now Colonel Rose as well. All of them gone, all of them failures. 

Now, finally, he would see the face of the one responsible.

Getting the security footage out of Stag Tower was surprisingly difficult. With White’s actions in Svalbard being revealed for all to see, even their most sympathetic allies in Interpol and the United Nations were wary of acting too overtly. There were even talks of punishing Markovia for ‘hosting’ the Red Ribbon Headquarters. Colonel Rose getting branded as a terrorist in Metropolis of all places wasn’t helping their reputation either. 

But despite all the trouble, the security footage did eventually make its way back to them. 

The screen turned on, and at once he saw the second floor of Stag Tower, some of General White’s more elite soldiers standing guard. Their guns were leveled at the door. When it swung open, they fired immediately. It sent a warm feeling through Commander Red’s heart, seeing his soldiers showing such hair-trigger discipline. Of course, that warm feeling didn’t last long. 

There was a blur of motion, as the figure that zipped out the door flung himself under a table, moving so fast Red could barely make heads or tails of him.

The table fell forwards to serve as a shield against the bullets, and then as a battering ram as the intruder used his strange extending weapon to launch the table at one of White’s soldiers. Then, the intruder surged out from where he had been hiding, and slammed into another of White’s soldiers, downing the much larger man in an instant. 

He dismantled White’s elite fighting force like they were nothing.

Red had seen enough. 

He pressed a button on the arm of his chair, rewinding the footage back to the star of the fight. He waited until the table had gone flying across the screen again when he paused the screen, capturing the Red Ribbon’s newest nemesis mid-leap. 

He had deeply sun-tanned skin. A wild mess of black hair that stuck up in every direction. Eyes that were either black, or a very deep brown. He was wearing a blue parka that covered most of his other distinguishing features. His extending weapon, held in mitten-clad hands, was a bright red. He had a few scratches and scars on his face, and his nose was slightly bent, still healing from a recent injury. 

And he was a child. 

Their enemy was, truly, a child.

God, that stung.

“Have this picture printed and faxed out to all operatives in the field,” Commander Red decreed, “I want this brat dead! It is kill-on-sight, understood? And that’s an order! ” 

“Yes, Commander Red!” shouted the various subordinates in the room. 

“Yes, Commander Red,” Staff Officer Gold said from where he was standing behind him and to the side. 

“Where is he heading now?” 

“We believe he’s going after Blue’s Dragon Ball next,” Gold said, gesturing to another of the soldiers manning the console, who switched the display back to the readings they were getting from the Sivana Dragon Radar. 

“Warn him. And tell Blue that I want this kid’s head on one of his goddamn harpoons,” Red growled, “And that’s an order too!” 

“Of course, but if I may say, Commander? I don’t see the point of getting so worked up. Blue is the most reliable warrior in all of the Red Ribbon Army. He’ll get back the two balls in the child’s possession, and that will be the end of this… farce,” Gold said with a shrug, waving off the possibility.

“And if he gets defeated too?” Red growled. 

“Cyborg Six.” 

“The boy’s already gone through four cyborgs,” Red snapped. 

“Then… we can simply call in the big guns,” Gold said with a soft smile, “The League. Regardless, one way or another, this brat is going to be a very temporary problem, Commander.” 

“Right,” Red said, trying to calm himself down, “Right.” 

Gold gave a small incline of his head, and then moved towards the nearest radio, bringing up General Blue’s frequency. It didn’t take long for him to pick up, “Headquarters, this is General Blue.”

“General Blue, this is Staff Officer Gold. I have new orders for you. It seems you’ll soon have company from the same party that defeated Silver, White, and Rose, of particular interest is a Metahuman child. You’ll receive his photo soon. Red wants his head on a harpoon, as well as the advanced Radar and the two Dragon Balls on his person. A photo of your target will come along shortly. You have your orders.”

“Understood, Staff Officer. All Hail Red Ribbon!” he barked out. 

“All hail Red Ribbon.”

Inside a capsule house on a small island in the center of the Atlantic, on the other end of the line, General Blue waited for Staff Officer Gold to hang up. He was a tall, imposing, and muscular man, dressed in a spotless military uniform. He was dark-skinned and handsome, with intense brown eyes. Around his arm was a bright blue band placed directly under a patch bearing the symbol of Red Ribbon. 

“A harpoon,” he said, considering the words. He turned behind him, and immediately, every other soldier in the room went on high alert, the tension ratcheting in the same direction as his gaze, every soldier present focusing his hardest on appearing to focus on his job. Finally, his eyes stopped on one of them, who was watching the screen in front of him intently- 

And idly picking his nose. 

The general’s deep brown eyes shifted then, flashing a bright, eerie, clear sapphire blue. 

The man froze mid-movement, the offending bit of snot held on his finger, clear for all to see. Blue strode up to him, before settling a hand on his shoulder, “That’s a disgusting habit, you know.”

“G-g-general…” the man ground out, his jaw barely able to move, “I… apologize…!” 

“Find me a harpoon within the next three hours, and I won’t have you executed.” 

“Th..th…” Blue let go of his shoulder, and then closed his eyes. The blue shade vanished and returned to brown, and the soldier let out a gasp of air before snapping a salute, “Thank you General! It won’t happen again sir!” 

Blue ignored him as he scrambled away and out the door. 

He crossed his arms behind his back and looked back around the room, bathing in the aura of fear and relief, “Staff Officer Gold’s warning was clear for everyone to hear, correct?” 

“YES SIR!” shouted the soldiers. 

“Good. You all know what that means. We are now in crunchtime. After I dispose of him and acquire his Dragon Balls and his radar, Commander Red will be expecting us to report back- with three Dragon Balls in our possession. If we don’t have all three, then all of our heads roll. You all understand, correct?” 

“YES SIR!” 

“Then find me that Dragon Ball!” he roared, eyes briefly flashing blue once more as the air shook around him. All around him, the small island headquarters became a flurry of activity. She smiled, and then walked towards the fax machine as it started up. He plucked the picture from the machine, and regarded his target. 

“Let’s hope he’s at least a decent challenge.”

“General Blue!”

He looked up from the photo, and glanced at the subordinate who dared to approach, “What is it?” 

“The underwater probes…” 

He smiled, “You finally got one down there that didn’t malfunction? So, we’ve finally caught a glimpse of it? The Dragon Ball?” 

“No sir.” 

“Then what are you doing talking to me, instead of continuing the search?” he asked, his grin abruptly vanishing, his eyes beginning to glow again. 

“We didn’t see the Dragon Ball, and, in fact, this probe had a malfunction and was destroyed too… but before it blew up we saw something else of value. Sir, have you heard the tale of Captain Fear’s sunken treasure?” 

General Blue blinked, before smiling wide.

Chapter Text

Alfred understandably took a while to convince. But in the end, the group was determined enough to go with or without him, and faced with that choice, he relented.

Freed from the restrictions of American airspace, Alfred was allowed to push the hover-limo as fast and as high into the air as he’d like, and they made good time across the Atlantic. Their position got closer and closer to the glowing light on the Dragon Radar’s screen, until, finally, they were practically on top of it.

“We’re almost there,” Clark said excitedly, leaning over for Alfred to take a look at the Dragon Radar. 

“I’ll slow down a smidge,” the butler agreed, changing gears, “Ah, I think I know where it landed.” 

Clark looked up at the windshield, and spotted the tiny island in the distance, grinning, “That looks about right. Full speed ahead, Alfred!” 

Alfred’s mustache curled upwards slightly in a grin as he did just that, racing forwards towards the island- only for Clark to tense up. “Hm? What’s wrong, Master Clark?” 

“We passed it.” 

Alfred pressed on the brakes, before leaning over to look at Clark’s radar. Sure enough, the glowing dot off the Dragon Ball was behind their own marker now.

Alfred and Clark shared a look, “It’s underwater,” Alfred said, “Well, at least that likely means the Red Ribbon Army’s searching the wrong place, if they too aimed for the island.”

Clark frowned, “I was kind of looking forward to fighting this Blue guy,” he considered the radar, “But this works too. I’m a good swimmer, and I can hold my breath a long time.” 

“The seafloor in this part of the Atlantic can get to be thousands of meters deep,” Alfred warned, “It’s a little beyond holding your breath. Luckily, Master Bruce is always prepared. There’s emergency diving equipment under the seat.” Alfred turned the limo around, and then slowly guided it over the spot where the Dragon Ball was resting. He reached back and opened the window behind them, “Everyone, we’ve reached our destination.” 

Bulma leaned closer, “But we haven’t reached the island yet? Wait-” 

“It’s underwater!” Clark said helpfully.

“I could dive for it,” Vic offered, “I don’t need to breathe as much as most people, and my Dad said I was more-or-less waterproof. My arm jets should work fine underwater too” 

“Er… Maybe not.” Bulma said, an apologetic expression crossing her face.

“... Why ?” Vic asked, suspicious.

“Saltwater and fragile electronics don’t really mix,” she said, “Your new skin- the sensor fabric and the transmitter ink? Even if the rest of you is waterproof, that isn’t really.” 

“You invented skin that isn’t waterproof?” Vic asked.

“It’s water-resistant, okay? You’d be fine with a shower or something, but this is the ocean! It’s got stuff in it. I told you the skin’s just a prototype.” 

Vic sighed, “Well, I’m glad you told me before I tried taking a bath. ” He frowned, “Okay, that came out a little sarcastic. For the record- I’m still very much pro-skin. But come on Bulma.”

“Sorry,” Bulma said, “I’ll try and come up with a fix for it once we have some time?”

“Thanks.”

“As an alternative, I should have a submarine capsule,” Bulma said, “It’s an older one though.”  

“We could use mine,” Bruce said as he reached down to unclip one of the countless capsules at his belt, “It’s one of Wayne Industries’ newest prototypes. They’re calling it the Better All-Terrain Automobile. A specialized street-legal hovercar capable of both upper-atmosphere high-speed flights as well deep-sea voyages. Although my personal model has a few… less street-legal upgrades.” 

“The B-A-T-Mobile?” Eel asked, “What is it with you and bats?” 

“Nothing,” Bruce said, before turning back to Alfred, “We’re not too far from the Azores, right? It should be able to handle that level of depth.”

Yamcha frowned, “ Should ? Just how much of a prototype is this?” 

“Master Bruce, if Red Ribbon is in the area, I think we should avoid drawing attention. The Batmobile would produce a plume of vapor large enough to be spotted from shore,” Alfred warned. 

“Let’s call that Plan B-” Clark said.

“For Batmobile,” Eel cut in.

“-as for Plan A, I think I’m just going to try diving for it. If it’s just sitting there out in the open, I think that’s probably the easiest thing to do. Bruce, do you mind if I use the diving stuff here?” Clark continued.

“It might be the wrong size for you, but we can probably adjust it,” Bruce said, seeming a little disappointed at missing the chance to use the newly-named Batmobile. Within a few minutes, they had Clark set up with a mask and an air tank, and the Dragon Balls he had in his own bag were safely tucked away in Bulma’s bag instead. “Remember, if you’re in trouble, just tap the button near your ear to activate the radio,” Bruce said, “We can have the Better All-Terrain Automobile ready in just a few moments, and go help you.” 

“Got it. I’ll be right back,” Clark promised.

Suppressing his instinct to suck in a deep breath before diving, Clark simply leaped out of the open door of the hovering limo, and hit the water. It was strange, being able to breathe while underwater. The air tasted weird, and the sounds were strange. It would take a little getting used to, but he wouldn’t deny it was convenient. 

He glanced back up at the long rectangular shadow over the water, and used it as his guide. More-or-less, the limo was positioned as directly above the Dragon Ball as they could measure. Turning his feet towards it, he began to kick backwards, and shot down deeper into the ocean.

As he descended, he passed by schools of colorful fish the like he had never seen before, and watched as jellyfish gently bobbed past him. 

Soon, he could see the seafloor itself. 

It was teeming with life, and reminded him of a field of grass. Sea plants drifted along with the changes in the current as if it were wind, while fish and other creatures moved between the fronds without an issue. Crabs shuffled between the rocks, and eels poked their noses out just enough to take in the sight of him before darting back into their holes.

Slowly, he came to a stop, settling down in the green sea-field, a small amount of sand kicked up by his feet as he landed. 

He bent down, and began feeling around in the silt and between the fronds of seaweed. The Dragon Ball should be somewhere around here. Glancing back upwards, he could just barely make out the thin rectangular shadow of the limo. Or at least, he hoped he could. He was still underneath it, more or less. He had dived as straight as he could. 

Still, after a couple minutes, his radio crackled to life.

“This is Captain O’Brian, over. Come in, Over,” came Eel’s voice. 

“Hi Eel,” Clark said.

“You’ve been down there for a bit, any trouble?” 

“There’s all this seaweed in the way,” Clark said, “It’s really pretty, but it’s making it a little tough to find the ball.”

“Gotcha.”

Clark felt along the mud for another few minutes, going in wider and wider circles- until he felt something with his foot. A crevice, hidden among the sea-grass. He let himself drift closer, leaning in to get a better look, and cursed under his breath. After a moment, he tapped the side of his diving mask, “Guys, there might be a problem. There’s a crack in the sea floor really close to where the ball is. And it’s wide enough for the Dragon Ball to have fallen in.”

“Hm. Should we go with plan Batmobile after all?” Eel asked. 

Clark shook his head, before realizing that there was no way they’d be able to tell he was doing that, “No, not yet. I’m going to try and climb inside. It’s just rock, so I should be strong enough to widen the tunnel if I need to.” 

“Do you want me to try?” Bulma asked, “I’m not much of a swimmer, but my suit has its own oxygen supply. If you carry me down, I could shrink down and fit in the cracks.” 

Clark reached down, and began to dig, throwing up rock and silt behind him, he paused only to press a finger back on the button,“No need. I’ll find it in just a bit! I think the tunnel gets wider further down anyway.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

He let his finger drop from the radio, and Clark worked. His digging skills honed under Son Gohan proved useful for the first time, although the exercise was strange underwater. It took more effort and concentration to keep from pushing himself too far back, and the water itself quickly became filled with silt as well, making it hard to see. 

His eyes, his ears, and his nose were enclosed by the mask, which is why he didn’t sense the tentacle until the suction cups pressed against the back of his neck.

Chapter Text

Clark tried to kick back, but at that moment a dozen more tentacles lashed out, snagging at his limbs and wrapping around his body. He struggled, but he didn’t know how to leverage his monstrous strength underwater. He tried to roll into a ball, to twist his arms, to yank back and forth, but the tentacles were individually each longer than he was tall, and had him suspended in the water entirely. One of them began to press between his back and the air tanks strapped to him.

“Get off me!” he shouted. 

“I can’t hear you too well through that thing on your face, surface-dweller,” came a voice from behind him. Clark froze up in surprise.

“What-” 

“Let’s get it off of you, and maybe I’ll be able to hear you better.” 

A tentacle loomed into his vision, reaching up from behind him and then slapping against the front of his mask. The suction cups pulsed against the surface of the glass, squeezing rhythmically for a few seconds before pushing in towards his face. He winced as it shattered, and then flinched as water immediately rushed through the hole and slammed into his face, filling his mask in a moment. The air tanks began releasing bubbles into the water through his mask, but it was no use, especially once another twist of a tentacle ripped the tanks away from Clark, cutting off the air entirely.

He clenched his mouth shut. He opened his eyes, winced at the stinging of the salt, and then pushed through it, ignoring the minor pain and instead turning to focus on his opponent. 

He was on a time limit now. 

He was going about this the wrong way, following his first instinct of simply trying to hit the problem with his fists. Super-strength was useless without leverage, so he would have to use something else. Luckily, he did have other options. 

A true Kamehameha needed both arms and time to concentrate, so partial blasts would have to do for now. 

He let energy flow through his body and erupt from both palms at the same time. Immediately, the bed of sea-grass was obliterated as waves of blue-green ki spilled out his hands and blasted in every direction. The water heated up significantly as his ki boiled what was directly in front of it, and his body was wrenched as the force of the energy leaving his hands pushed him in the opposite direction. 

“AAAGGGGH!” the creature clinging to him screamed as it was lifted up and away from the ocean floor by its own grip on Clark’s body, even as Clark began spinning uncontrollably through the water. 

Thinking back to the sheer level of control Vic displayed with his movements in the air, propelling himself in quite a similar way, Clark shifted his arms, put more control into the blasts. The blue-green turquoise color evened out into a more pure green, and Clark shoved the energy into lifting him higher and higher, aiming back for the surface. 

“Grrr, you little air-breathing brat!” the creature snarled, “You think you can get out of this with a spell like this? Take this! Magic Materialization !” it hissed. 

Clark flinched as in a flash of light, a metal anchor as large as a bus appeared, chain and all, directly over them both. 

He slammed into it at full speed, and then winced as the tentacles rushed forwards to grab the chains and tie them around his body. The limbs worked with startling speed and coordination. The creature let go of him then, but despite the energy pouring out of Clark’s hands, the sheer weight of the anchor as it dropped pulled him downwards, towards the sea floor. He glared up at the creature who had attacked him, but he could barely make out any of it. Simply a collection of red tentacles that rose up into a more narrow form with something shiny at its tip, which glinted in the sea-filtered sunlight.

“There. A fitting end for a trespasser like yourself,” it declared.

Clark stopped directing energy towards his hands, and instead reached for the chains themselves, grabbing hold of them and tearing them left and right. The heavy iron groaned, warped, and finally ripped under the strain. He threw aside the chains, and kicked off the anchor, speeding through the water towards the creature who tried to catch him. 

“What- no!”

Clark slammed into it, and was once more engulfed in tentacles, but this time, he had the advantage. By attacking first, he had stunned the creature, and was able to pummel it without the creature trying to grab him back. He slammed punch after punch into the soft flesh of the octopus thing, and then kicked off of it.

As the creature drifted away from him, still dazed, Clark took the chance to start kicking up towards the surface to try and grab some air. But the octopus-creature regained its senses faster than Clark expected. All at once, a second anchor slammed into him from above. He shrugged it off, pushing against it with his feet, when a third crashed into him. Worse, he caught in the corner of his eye that the creature was swimming towards him, tentacles moving furiously in the water as his opponent raced closer. 

He pushed away the third anchor, letting it drift away and fall towards the bottom of the ocean, and spun around in the water to confront his opponent, glaring at him face-to-face. 

What he saw surprised him. This wasn’t an octopus, but some kind of metahuman. A human torso grew out of the place where the octopus’s main body would be, clad in shiny silver armor. His face as well was encased in a helmet with a fishy appearance, held in his hand was a trident. The half-man half-octopus raised his weapon towards Clark, and spoke out the words once more, “ Magic Materialization! ” 

But this time, Clark knew what to expect. He darted downwards as soon as the metahuman finished speaking, and sure enough, the anchor appeared above him- but thanks to his quick movements, too high to actually hit this time. Instead, he rushed for the other figure, already preparing to aim for the chin, one of the only places with exposed skin on the figure’s armored human half. But as he drew close, the man swung with his trident, and Clark flinched back as he saw light crackle between the spokes of the weapon’s three spikes. 

Was that-

Lightning, white-hot, lanced through him. The water filled with the effect, a terrible cracking sound filling his ears. His body spasmed and shook, and he went limp. Air bubbled up out of his mouth, and he slowly began to drift. 

His opponent stared at him, shocked, “Huh. That worked. It shouldn’t have done more than distract a trained wizard. The surface-dweller has enough magical skill to burn life energy to merely get around, but doesn’t even have a basic ward against lightning?” he asked himself, confused, “Or… perhaps he’s one of those who have trained to manipulate their life energy directly ?” 

He moved closer to Clark’s body, still buzzing with electricity, and narrowed his eyes. 

“No, no, he couldn’t be. The Demon King killed almost all of them. Besides, such talents take decades to master, and this one is just a brat,” He nodded to himself, before drooping his shoulders, “Aaaand I’m still talking to myself,” He muttered, “Damn it. I should have drawn things out. This is the first time they sent some one rather than a stupid gadget. Back to boring old patrol,” he groaned as he turned his back on the body, “Great honor, they said, proud guardian of our people, they said, what a load of barnacles.”

Clark continued to drift in the water, the last of his air having long since floated up and away. For a few moments, his eyes opened, but he was too weak, too oxygen starved to stay awake for long. All he managed to catch was the sight of the octopus-man swimming away… and something else approaching him. He tried to reach for his ki, but his mind was slipping, his lungs burning, and he was unconscious again in a moment. 

He didn’t notice as something pressed its mouth against his own, and breathed life back into his lungs. 

Chapter Text

“Clark is taking his sweet time down there,” Bulma said as she nervously tapped her feet.

“He’ll be fine, he’s practically indestructible,” Yamcha assured her. 

“He’s not,” she said, expression troubled, “He’s really not.” 

Vic and Eel sat by the radio Bruce had provided, keeping an ear out for a signal while they idly indulged in the contents of the limo’s minifridge, Vic especially enjoying the chance to eat again for the first time in months, making sure to savor every bite. 

“So what’s the plan after we get the ball?” he asked, “I thought we were taking the fight back to Red Ribbon now.” 

“That is the plan,” Eel said, “At least according to Clark Kent, massive strategist. How likely is it that one of your cyber-buddies is on the island?” 

“Pretty high,” Vic said, “And considering where we are, and who Rose said would be waiting here for us… it’s probably one of the stronger ones. Cyborg Six: Red Torpedo.” 

“You’re newer than they are, right? So you’re stronger?” Eel asked hopefully.

“I’m more advanced ,” Vic said, “And I’m more deadly.” 

“So, stronger.” 

“...Now, I’m not exactly weaker ,” Vic began, “But I’m not as well armored. Dad wanted to preserve as much of my body as possible, so there were some sacrifices. And our abilities are different. Cyborgs Four through Seven all have different ‘Elemental’ engines. These engines don’t provide nearly as much energy as my Dynamo engine, definitely not enough to use energy weapons like I do. But… They had other advantages. Something similar to Metahuman powers, or that pulled on the same source. Tornado could control air, Inferno fire, Volcano earth, and Torpedo… well, water.” 

“Water-controller, huh,” Eel began, looking out over the waves, “Well, we picked a good spot to fight em’ then.”

“Being able to move water with your mind isn’t exactly on the same level of firepower as I can put out if I try, but it can still be pretty awful. Have you ever been somewhere that was hit by a tidal wave?”

“No, but I get the idea,” Eel said, before grinning, “But I think we’ll be able to figure something out.” 

In the front of the limo Bruce had taken Clark’s place in the passenger seat next to Alfred, the Dragon Radar resting in his left hand while his right wrote on a piece of paper, slowly working through calculations and coordinates, trying to pinpoint, as well as he could, the locations of all the other Dragon Balls the radar could detect. Next to him, Alfred kept his eyes on the island far in the distance, wary and worried, knowing that it was likely infested with soldiers of the Red Ribbon Army. He had seen many groups like the Red Ribbon rise and fall in his time, some of them going out with a whimper, some of them nearly going out with enough of a bang to shake the world. Considering what he’s already seen, as well as the state of the young Victor Flappe… 

Well, Red Ribbon might make a very big bang indeed. 

It was just as he was thinking this that the noticed something rising up into the air from the island, “Master Bruce,” he said, and his young ward looked upwards, and immediately zeroed in on the far-away objects Alfred was seeing. 

“We have incoming soldiers in hovercars,” he said, slamming a hand on the window behind him. 

At once, everyone in the group tensed up. Alfred put his foot on the pedal.

“Hey! We’re not leaving Clark behind at the bottom of the ocean!” Bulma protested as soon as Alfred began to accelerate forwards. 

“We can locate him again with the Dragon Radar,” Bruce said even as he tapped a button on his utility belt. There was an explosion of vapor, and his martial arts uniform, his mystical knuckle-dusters, and his Chirottero mask appeared. 

“Sir?” Alfred asked, staring at them in surprise. 

“The fabric is reinforced and the outfit is easy to move around in. The extra durability has helped me out in the past.” 

“But the mask?” 

“I’d prefer if the Red Ribbon Army wasn’t gunning for Wayne Industries,” he said simply.

“Very well, Master Chirottero.” 

As Bruce quickly changed into his ass-kicking outfit, the others inside prepped for battle in their own way. Yamcha drew his sword, and swung himself out of the limo to stand on the roof, not caring at their ever-increasing speed as they raced towards the approaching hovercars. Bulma used a capsule of her own, making a raygun appear and catching it before it could fall, then, she reached up and pulled down the mask of the Micron suit. Vic leaned out as well, holding onto the vehicle with one hand while transforming the other into a cannon. Eel for his part made a show of doing stretches, and then shook out his arms- but inside, he was creating muscles within his limbs where there weren’t any before, so that he could hit as hard as he could- 

And then he flinched back as Bulma ran up to him and jumped into his arms, shrinking all the while, with the exception of her capsule case, which remained at full size and fell into Eel’s hand.

“Bulma, what’s the plan here?” he asked as she landed on top of her own capsule case. 

“You’re bulletproof, and I’m making myself a smaller target,” she said, “Now take us out the window so I can get a good shot.” 

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Dutifully, he rolled down the window, and then squeezed his body through it, forming an old-fashioned castle tower in miniature from the arm he stuck out, a room on the top with a window to shoot from housing the tiny form of Bulma and her case. 

She closed one eye, lining up her shot with the raygun, before pulling the trigger and sending a burning beam of yellow light racing across the sky. In the distance, the Red Ribbon hovercar was hit, the laser burning through their landing gear. The soldier inside it swore as the metal literally melted off and dropped below into the ocean. 

“We’re under attack!” he shouted, “Some kinda’ energy weapon.” 

“Should we retreat?” 

“And face General Blue once he gets back?”

They pushed on, the jets on the back of the pair of hovercars burning brighter and hotter as they came into a dive, getting closer to the sea to hopefully become less of a target. The guns on the fronts of the bladeless helicopter-like hovercars swiveled into position, aiming straight on for the ones attacking them. 

“Is that a limo?” one of the pilots asked. 

“Huh. Wait, is that- evasive maneuvers!” the other pilot declared, yanking back on the controls and swinging away as another beam lanced out across the sea, this time it was a thick, brightly glowing red. 

The sea gave off steam as the beam petered out, and Vic lowered his arm cannon, glaring at the twin hovercars as they broke off and began to circle them. He could make the beam wider, maybe get a better chance of hitting them, but if that was true, he’d have a better chance of killing them too.

“That’s Cyborg Eight!” shouted one of the pilots as he blazed past the limo. 

Not that these guys didn’t deserve it. Grunting in annoyance, he threw himself into the air, letting the limo push on past him. 

“Vic!” Bulma shouted, “Where are you going!?” 

“I’ll catch up!” he shouted back. Turning his other arm into a cannon, he ignited both before he could hit the water, and surged across the sky, chasing after the hovercars, “I’ll meet you at the island!” 

Chasing Rose through a maze of skyscrapers was one thing, but out here, there was nothing for them to hide behind. He kicked his engine into a higher gear, feeling the red-hot light inside him grow hotter as the dynamo roared louder. He found a smile appearing on his face as the wind blasted against his skin. His organic eye narrowed to a slit, and then closed in the force of the wind pressing down on him, but his mechanical one had no such weakness, tracking the pair of vehicles easily. 

Both of them were driving erratically, trying to avoid getting within his direct line of sight- some instinct that would have made them harder to hit if he were a normal warplane, but that instinct only served to slow them down, as the only weapons he could fire with were what he was using as propulsion.

Once he was close enough, he angled his arms down, and rocketed up into the air. Once he reached the top of his arc, he picked the unharmed Red Ribbon hovercar as his target, and let out a spectacular blast of energy behind him. The force of the explosion, along with good old gravity, would be enough to carry him towards the enemy’s vehicle, which meant that he could use his hands again. 

He threw his arms in front of his face, and smiled as he hit exactly what he was aiming for- the engine of the hovercar. 

Metal crumpled around him in a crater as his body crashed into and through the plating and mechanical innards of the aircraft. Immediately, the vehicle lost its jets, its engines, and its ability to levitate, and began to spin towards the ocean. 

The pilot inside began to shriek in fear as the water got closer and closer, but Vic pulled himself out of the metal, and reached down to yank the pilot out of his chair. Kicking off the back of the doomed hovercar, his free hand converted back into a cannon, and began to pulse with energy as he lifted back into the air. The Red Ribbon soldier dangled from his other hand, desperately clinging to him as they sailed through the air after the remaining aircraft and the limo. But with only one arm to fly with, he had to be careful.

In front of him, the other Red Ribbon hovercar turned away, and decided to focus on the limo instead, opening fire on it. Vic felt his heart drop as he saw the limo stagger in the air, and hit the water with an enormous splash.

Chapter Text

Yamcha darted forwards as the Red Ribbon aircraft opened fire with the twin mounted guns at the front. His sword swung through the air in a flash of steel, and he felt impact after impact ring out as he rushed to deflect as many of the bullets as possible. But in the end, that was a futile gesture. He could only protect so much of the limo, and he winced as bullets pierced the car behind him. 

Luckily, it seemed like the windshield was some kind of bulletproof material, and Alfred and Bruce weren’t swiss cheese. 

The engine was, though. 

Bruce reached down to his belt, and threw a capsule from it out the window. The limo hit the water with a splash, crashing into the ocean and plowing deep into the water for a moment. Yamcha barely had time to suck in a breath as the cold water smashed against him and knocked him free of the limo’s roof. 

For a moment, he panicked, thinking of Bulma, but felt relief as he spotted the tell-tale halos of her miniaturized form, acting as a beacon in the blue of the water. If she was shrunk down, then she was wearing the suit, right? That meant he didn’t have to worry about her drowning. He felt a moment of fear as the halos were hidden from sight, but relaxed as he spotted Eel swimming past with fins for legs, Bulma held close to his chest by the metahuman’s hand. A tendril of plastic shot out of Eel as he swam by, and Yamcha grabbed onto it, allowing himself to be pulled along for the ride. 

They breached the surface a moment later, and Yamcha sucked in a breath, turning towards his friends, “You two okay?” 

“Just dandy,” Bulma said, her voice projected oddly by her shrunken state, “Where’s Bruce and Alfred?” 

Yamcha nodded, “I’ll go look for them,” he took a deep breath, preparing to dive, when there was a second splash, almost as large as the initial crash of the limo. 

The trio turned around to look at it, and blinked in surprise as a sleek black form bobbed up out of the water. It was a hovercar, in the same way a luxury yacht was a boat. Despite not being nearly as long as the limo, it almost certainly had more mass, built as wide as a semi truck and almost as tall. The front narrowed down to an arrow, the headlights giving it the appearance of angry-looking animal’s face, while the back was studded with large racing fins- which to Eel’s delight did in fact look like bat wings -and supported a massive jet. The center of the vehicle was dedicated to a large cockpit, with a dome-like roof partially covered by more slick, shiny black steel.

A moment later, Bruce climbed up onto it from the water, Alfred coming up behind him.

Eel swam their way as well, lifting Bulma up to the surface of the vehicle, and then lifting Yamcha, before pulling himself aboard, “The Batmobile!” Eel said cheerfully. 

Bruce decided to just accept it at this point. He pressed his hand against a hidden panel. All at once, the vehicle came to life, the headlights switching on and the engine growling. A moment after, the dome began to slide back, and parts of the sides opened up, allowing entry to the cockpit. “Everyone inside,” Bruce said, “I don’t know when they’ll come back.” 

“Sir, I’m not sure I can drive this,” Alfred muttered, staring down at the control panel filled with dozens of buttons, and the stick-shift with far more than the usual number of settings. There was a traditional steering wheel, but it too was studded with buttons. 

“That’s fine, Alfred,” Bruce said, dropping into the pilot’s seat, “I’ll drive. Everyone else, get buckled in.”

Bulma gave a whistle of appreciation at the setup, before returning back to normal size, and settling herself in a passenger seat, eyes widening with delight as she looked over the various options, “Need a copilot?” 

“I’d be honored,” he said, “But be careful with the buttons. A few of them are boobytrapped.” 

“Why?” 

“In case anyone tries to steal my car.” He flicked a button on the wheel, and suddenly the dashboard lit up dark reds and light blues, “Red ones are bad, blue ones are useful. Most of them are labeled.” 

“Sounds good,” she said, grinning. 

 Alfred slipped into his own seat behind them, nervously clicking his seatbelt in place, and then gripping the sides of his chair. 

Bruce and Bulma looked up towards Yamcha and Eel, but neither made a move to climb inside, “What kind of weapons do you have on this thing?” Yamcha asked. 

“Too many to name in a hurry,” Bruce said, “Get in.” 

“Anything that can bring down an enemy plane without killing the pilot?” 

Bruce let his eyes glide over the console, “...Theoretically.”

“I think we’ll be more useful out here. Don’t worry about us,” Yamcha assured, spinning his sword for a moment, “Just get us close to him, and we’ll take him down without making him crash.” 

Bruce nodded, and then tapped a button to make the canopy slide back into position. With a hum, the water all around them began to vibrate and ripple as the Batmobile levitated into the air. Yamcha took a step back and rested a hand on one of the racing fins to keep steady, while Eel simply spread out his flipper-like feet into suction cups, sticking to the surface of the vehicle as it darted into the sky after the remaining Red Ribbon aircraft. 

The Red Ribbon pilot pressed down on the triggers, and let another hail of bullets ring out towards the approaching hovercar, but this time, the bullets barely left scrape marks on the outer surface of the vehicle, and Yamcha and Eel were as untouchable as ever, Yamcha deflecting anything that came close and Eel more-or-less ignoring them, being bulletproof. 

The Batmobile’s jets kicked into life as Bulma slammed her hand gleefully onto a nitro button, accelerating rapidly towards the enemy aircraft. Bruce tipped the Batmobile to the side, slipping just underneath the other hovercar, while Yamcha leaped up and grabbed onto the Red Ribbon pilot’s leg, and Eel let go of the Batmobile to grab onto Yamcha’s.

“AH! Let go!” the pilot shrieked.

Yamcha sheathed his sword and grabbed onto what was left of the half-melted landing gear, before yanking back on the pilot hard enough to rip him from the seat. Without anyone at the controls, the hovercar began to dip in the air and spiral towards the waves, but Eel slipped his way up and seized the controls, evening them out and turned to follow the Batmobile, before pulling Yamcha and their new prisoner back up into the cockpit. The pilot tried to reach for the controls himself, but Yamcha put an arm over his throat and squeezed until the pilot went limp, before letting go again. 

Soon, Vic managed to catch up, and Eel reached out to take his own terrified prisoner, handing him to Yamcha to get knocked out as well. It was starting to be a tight squeeze inside the cabin of the hovercar. 

With both arms free, Vic stabilized and picked up speed, catching up with the Batmobile, which began to slow down to come level with the commandeered Red Ribbon aircraft. 

The dome slid back slightly, and Bruce shouted over the wind, “You three keep going to the island!” he shouted, “We’re going to go back for Clark.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Vic shouted back, “You want us to wait for you, or go right for the base?” 

“Go knock some heads together,” Bulma said. With that, the dome slid back down, and the Batmobile angled downwards into the ocean, the arrow-like shape letting it slip into the water without much of a spray. 

Vic turned towards Yamcha and Eel, and the shapeshifter grinned wide, “Well, you heard the lady. Let’s go knock some heads together!” 

Chapter Text

“We lost two more underwater probes,” a soldier said, “But before they went out, we got closer to the wreck. I confirmed that the ship matches descriptions of Captain Fear’s vessel.” 

“Damn it, what’s wrong with these probes?” General Blue growled, “ Who designed them? Did that idiot White provide them?” 

“They’re based off of blueprints for spy drones made by Doctor Morrow, sir.” 

“...Then they shouldn’t be failing this frequently,” he said, “...Deploy the Manta-Sub. We’re going to be investigating this ourselves. If our interference is not faulty equipment, but enemy action, then this needs to be dealt with immediately.”

Men rushed forwards to follow his orders, and he walked through his base at an idle pace, stopping by his own room. He opened his locker, and there, folded perfectly, was his personal diving suit. He quickly stripped down, and then slid the smooth black-and-blue material over his body. The suit was custom-made, designed to fit his carefully-maintained form perfectly, and comfortably, while allowing him his normal range of motion. It even included armor plating, the arm guards bearing the symbol of Red Ribbon. 

Of course, it also included a helmet. 

A creation of his own, it made air tanks redundant. The mask was about as twice as wide as his head, but not much taller, giving it a peculiar oval shape. The extra space was devoted to machinery: Artificial gills that would constantly reclaim breathable air from the water in front of him, and release carbon dioxide into the water behind him. Communicators in order to give orders to his troops. And, best of all, were the lenses . 

Blue’s metahuman power wasn’t a weak one by any measure. Line-of-sight telekinesis had countless uses, but because it was line of sight, it also had limitations. 

This helmet’s large blue eyes solved those limitations, by allowing him to concentrate his vision, or spread it out across an even larger area. A power that could hold those he was looking at in place would become one that would allow him to bore through those he was looking at with the sheer force of his mind!

He slid it over his face, and felt it click into place with his suit. Immediately, he could see the entire room around him, nearly three-hundred and sixty degrees of vision. 

When he first started using it, there was always a short period of adaptation, but now, he was able to start walking and moving without a problem. He picked up a powered gun, a knife, and a bandolier of bombs. 

He marched back out of his room, and strolled down to the beach, where the Manta-Sub was waiting. A massive diamond-shaped blue vehicle marked on the front with the symbol of the Red Ribbon, that looked similar to its namesake, with wide wings studded with engines, a massive cannon attached to the back reminiscent of a ray’s tail, and two more powerful guns attached to the front, similar to a manta ray’s cephalic horns.

He marched up to it and telekinetically pressed down on a certain hidden panel on the front of the sub. Instantly, the bay doors opened. None of his men knew how he did it, but it increased the sense of mystique and power about him. He strode up the walkway, and waited until all the required personnel had made their way aboard before closing it back up again. 

Marching to the frontmost room, he settled into the captain’s chair and waited as his men went through all the system checks. 

“General Blue, we are ready for departure,” announced one of his subordinates.

“Take us down.” 

With that, the Manta-Sub’s engines roared to life and it pushed onwards, out into the water and then slipped below it, submerging entirely. They raced away from the island, leaving it behind, and pushed out into the open sea. 

Their voyage hadn’t even lasted a half hour when one of the soldiers jumped to his feet, “General Blue!”

Blue whipped his head towards the man, “What?” 

“Sir! Base just reported in- they spotted something in the sea, and deployed two aerial scouts to investigate. One of their tracking devices just went inactive, likely destroyed.” 

Blue clenched his fist, “Damn this poor timing. Alert the base to keep an eye out for the metahuman child and rogue cyborgs. Permission is granted to deploy Cyborg Six.”

“We won’t be returning to base to assist?”

“Commander Red was clear, the Dragon Ball is the first priority,” Blue said, “With the probes being unreliable, that leaves it to us to investigate the area personally.”

“But our orders regarding the metahuman…” 

“Either the men back at base and Cyborg Six will be enough to deal with him, in which case the orders are fulfilled, or he’ll be waiting for us when we return to base with the Dragon Ball in hand. After all, his faction wants them too. He’ll have to come to us, and I’ll deal with him then.” Blue said calmly. 

The Manta-Sub slid through the water faster than any other vehicle its size, making good time to the place where they identified the wreck of the Lachrima Christi . The massive sailing ship had gone down more than two and a half centuries ago, supposedly carrying aboard both the treasures of the infamous pirate Captain Fear, and those of his defeated rival, the dreaded Captain Hemlocke. Blue looked out at the vessel with almost childish glee, admiring the craftsmanship of the ship despite the time that had passed. 

The ship had sunk due to a massive hole blasted into the bottom, and settled at the foot of an undersea cliff, next to a great garden of ocean plants. 

The Mana-Sub drifted closer, before Blue raised his fist, “That’s close enough. Diving team, to me.” 

“Sir!” 

He got up out of the captain’s seat, and looked across at the gathered men, “You are to remain here until I return. Understood?” 

“Yes Sir, General Blue!” 

Blue smiled, and marched for the exit, when one of the men suddenly jumped to his feet, “There’s another sub out there, sir!” 

“Another sub?” Blue asked, “One of ours?” 

“No sir, but we just got visual confirmation, it’s heading for the undersea plateau.”

“Can it see us?” 

“If we can see it…” the soldier began, looking nervous.

“...Wait until the diving team is deployed, and then attempt to capture it if you can, or destroy it if you can’t,” Blue ordered, “Be prepared for conflict, the metahuman child may be aboard.”

With that, he continued on his way towards the moon pool, ten of his best-trained men already waiting in their own diving gear, carrying their own weapons, for him. He gave a motion with his hand, and they slipped into the water one after the other. He dropped in after them. His mask came to life as he hit the water, whirring as the artificial gills kicked into action. Bubbles began to filter from the top of his helmet in two thin streams, almost like antennas.

He clicked his heels together to deploy the diving fins, and began to swim rapidly towards the sunken pirate ship in front of him, his men falling into formation around him. 

Chapter Text

“ That wasn’t there a few minutes ago,” Bruce muttered as he watched the massive submarine ascending through the water from below the cliff. 

It hadn’t taken them too long to find the place where the Dragon Radar had guided them above before. A huge undersea plateau, covered in sea grasses and studded with aquatic creatures who liked to live a little closer to the sun. They followed the Dragon Radar until they were nearly on top of the ball, and it was there that they saw the evidence of Clark’s digging. And the evidence of something having gone wrong. 

Worse, there was no sign of Clark. 

But before they had time to worry about it, the huge black submarine bearing the mark of the Red Ribbon made its appearance, orienting all three cannons on them. Bruce yanked hard on the controls, kicking the engines into high gear and racing from the plateau. But despite their smaller size, the devilfish-shaped submarine chasing them was slowly catching up. 

Bulma’s eyes flickered over the control panel, and the dozens of options it provided. But the issue was, it was very much an all-terrain vehicle. Some of the defenses were only effective against ground-bound cars, some were meant for aerial combat, and only a few were designed with undersea combat in mind. 

But a few wasn’t the same as nothing. 

“Do you have any guns on this thing?” she asked Bruce.

“No.” 

“But you do have torpedoes.”

“Yes.”

“...Alright then. Readying torpedoes!” As soon as she hit the button, and a thin glass pane slipped down over the rear-view mirror. It had a targeting reticle drawn down on it. She waited until the center of the mirror was about to slide over the ‘tail’ of the Manta-Sub, and slapped the button again. The Batmobile shook as a tornado was launched out of the back, rocketing through the water and crashing and exploding against the much larger submarine… and leaving it almost undamaged. Worse, that seemed to agitate the enemy pilots. The guns of the gigantic submarine flared to life, filling the water with light and sound as shells flew out through the water and wreaked havoc on the seafloor below, kicking up clouds of silt. 

Thinking quick, Bruce turned the Batmobile into one of the clouds, briefly concealing itself. 

Bulma hit a button labeled ‘Sonic Mines’, while Bruce reached over to hit another labeled ‘Underwater Decoys’. 

From either side of the Batmobile, two large missiles fired out into the water, before exploding not into bursts of light and shrapnel, but instead into balloons. 

Balloons shaped just like the Batmobile.

Each of them continued on in the direction they had been fired, emerging from the cloud of silt and facing in opposite directions as they sped off into the sea. Just as the Manta-Sub spread its two forward cannons to track and fire at the separate decoys, the mines Bulma deployed were fired out of the back of the true Batmobile. The baseball-sized bombs erupted out of the silt cloud and spread out in a large area around them, but as the Manta-Sub continued moving forwards, it quickly brushed up against the first of them. 

The little mines didn’t explode so much as they violently shook. 

Shockwaves visibly spread outwards from each of the mines as they were activated, buffeting the surface of the Manta-Sub, and even causing turbulence for the Batmobile as Bruce slammed on the gas and had it rocket away. 

“Now those had some kick to it!” Bulma said gleefully, “How many do we have?” 

“That was all of them,” Bruce said. 

“What- really?”

“Most of these countermeasures are meant for emergencies,” Bruce said, “I don’t like making weapons. Almost everything the Batmobile can put out is meant mainly for providing opportunities to escape.”

“But it’s as fast as we are!” 

“Under the water, they are,” Bruce said, considering. He looked behind him, where Alfred was clinging to his own chair, breathing hard. “But we’re not just a submarine. Alfred, when I tell you too, be ready to open the door,” With that, he pulled back on the controls, and took off straight upwards, erupting out of the silt and heading for open water. A few seconds after that, they burst out of the sea and into the open air, water whipping off of the Batmobile as it took to the air. 

Alfred closed his eyes, muttered a prayer, and held his free hand over the door, “Ready, Master Bruce.”

“Bulma, you brought your Capsule Case with you, correct? What’s the largest thing you have stored?” Bruce asked. 

Bulma sighed, “My life keeps forcing me to use houses as hammers.” She reached into her bag, and plucked out a particular capsule. 

With a rumble, the Manta-Sub breached the surface far below them, all three cannons oriented upwards. In a series of deafening blasts, three massive shells shot straight up into the air, flying past the relatively tiny Batmobile and buffeting it with the winds of their passing. Even a glancing hit would destroy the three of them, and now that it had breached, the Manta-Sub was only firing faster. 

“Alfred.”

Alfred pressed a button, and harsh winds suddenly filled the cockpit as the dome lifted up, whipping at their clothes and their hair. Bulma winced, pressed the button on the capsule, and threw it towards the opening. The winds took it away instantly, and when it finally went off, it was in the air dozens of feet away, along with nearly everything else that wasn’t strapped down. Alfred barely managed to hold onto the Dragon Radar before he could press the button and seal the cockpit again. 

Bruce changed the angle of their flight, and watched as the capsule house descended like a meteor towards the submarine below. 

Bulma groaned, putting her head in her hands, as it slammed into the submarine hard enough to tip it in the water, creating a crater along one of its vast wings. One of the cannons went off while half-submerged, and the blast of water further tipped it over. But after a few moments, the Manta-Sub righted itself, damaged, but not disabled. 

All three guns reoriented themselves on the flying Batmobile, and shell after shell sailed through the air towards them. 

“We need something bigger than a house,” Bulma muttered, before looking towards Alfred, “Sorry, but you’re going to need to open that again.” 

“You didn’t throw the biggest thing you had?” Bruce asked, his tone slightly accusatory.

“I don’t see you using up your capsules.” Bulma said. 

“I assumed you would have something bigger. A yacht, maybe. This is a utility belt, not a luxury belt.” He said, his voice slightly colored by annoyance.

Despite her words and apparent desire to try the attack again, rather than picking out another capsule from the case, she put the case safely in her bag, and then secured her bag down in the seat next to her with its seatbelt. Bulma sighed, “Alfred, you ready?” 

“Ready!” Alfred said.

“Then hit it!” she commanded. He pressed the button again, careful to hold the radar against his chest. Then, to both his and Bruce’s shock, Bulma pressed her hand against the Micro Band, not bothering to undo her seatbelt as she rapidly shrunk out of it, and was just as rapidly sucked out the window. 

Alfred and Bruce shared a horrified look. 

Alfred rushed to close the cockpit again, but it was of course too late. Bulma had vanished completely out of sight, and depending on how quickly she was shrinking, could be almost anywhere. But after a few terrifying moments, she made herself known again.

About twenty yards below them, Bulma suddenly grew back into visibility, reached her full height again- and didn’t stop. Her blue-and-red clad form grew larger and larger as she fell, and in almost slow motion, she tucked herself into a ball, protecting her head with her hands as she dropped- 

Directly onto the Manta-Sub. 

The splash that followed spread out in every direction, and the horrendous groaning of steel could be heard from within the Batmobile as the submarine practically folded around Bulma. The wings bent as the main body was forced underwater, and her impact had left a massive crater. 

In slow motion, the massive form of Bulma slowly unfurled herself, and then reached to the side to grip the nearest wing. She braced her foot against it- and then pulled , tearing the wing along the folded edge. 

“E V E R Y O N E     O U T    O F    T H E     S U B!” she said, her voice echoing bizarrely from her giant mouth. One by one, lifeboats were deployed, Red Ribbon soldiers filtering their way out, terrified into obedience under the watchful eye of the giant. 

“Master Bruce?” 

“Yes Alfred?” 

“You have made some very scary friends.”

Bruce angled the Batmobile down out of the sky, flying down towards the now-harmless wreck of  a submarine. 

Chapter Text

“Alright, that’s them dealt with.” Yamcha said, tossing the pair of unconscious men into a Red Ribbon-brand capsule house. He closed the door, and then rather than just locking it, gripped the metal of the handle hard, and yanked it aside, before crunching it into the metal on the side of the capsule house just next to the door with a loud grunt of effort. The windows were too small to escape from, and now they’d need outside assistance to get through the door. 

Eel looked around at the island they stood on, as the bright green trees and the colorful birds, and let out a sigh, “I kinda miss Santa Prisca,” he said, “A tropical island where nothing was trying to kill me.”

“They’ll probably be set up somewhere on the beach,” Vic said, looking out over the white sand, “Especially if they knew the ball had ended up in the water.” 

“Right,” Yamcha added, stretching slightly in preparation for a fight, “You two were talking about it in the limo, but… do you two actually have a plan for fighting a water-controlling cyborg?” 

Vic sighed, looking down at his newly-granted skin. He’d barely had it for a day, and already he was risking it again. 

He knew that Bulma could likely just print off more of it if they went back to Metropolis, but he was attached to it, and didn’t want to risk having it get destroyed by the force of a tidal wave. But if push came to shove… “Diplomacy first. Like all the Cyborgs, he hasn’t been treated well by the Red Ribbon. Depending on how closely the person with his remote is listening, we could maybe talk him into surrendering and letting us capsulize him.  But if diplomacy breaks down… I don’t really need to breathe. If we have to, I’ll just weather it until I can get close and shoot off his limbs.”

“And risk your new fancy paint job?” Eel asked, “Nonsense. No, no, you just leave this to Ol’ O’Brian.” 

“And what’s your plan?” Yamcha asked.

“Pretty simple, really,” Eel said, “You throw me at ‘em, and I engulf ‘em. Trap the thing inside myself until we can figure out how to capsulize him. If he can work his water through me, then at least he’ll be blind and restrained, and if he can’t, that’s all the better.” 

The trio walked along the beach, until Yamcha went still, and held up a hand to signal the others to stop. He got low to the ground, and dashed forwards, before coming to a stop by some greenery on the edge of the beach. He ducked to hide his entire body behind it, and then leaned forwards, looking through the plants at the military base in the distance. 

It was in a flurry of activity, soldiers rushing from place to place, almost in a panic. 

He didn’t see any signs of a battle-cyborg, so he decided that now was as good as ever to go on the attack. “Go!” he shouted, before vaulting over the bush and lunging for the nearest soldier. 

He stepped into a familiar form, and began to lash out with one lethal strike after another, careful to hold back just enough before each hit that the man fell down merely broken rather than in pieces. That done, he swung himself towards the next nearest soldier, disarming him before beating him senseless with his own gun. Overhead, Vic sailed forwards in a burst of red energy, before stopping in mid-air and firing blast after blast across the camp as he fell. Taking out vehicles, satellite dishes, and putting holes in capsule houses. As he hit the ground, his arm-cannons converted back into fists, and he threw himself into brawling with the nearest Red Ribbon soldiers, taking out a year’s worth of frustration in a cathartic one-sided beatdown. 

All the while, Eel slunk around the edges of the fight, arms extending out like whips and snagging one soldier after another and reeling them in like fish. 

Within the first few seconds, dozens of Red Ribbon were down, and their operations were in shambles. Unfortunately, that was also when they started coming out of their shock and getting more coordinated. 

Lieutenants and Captains barked orders, and soon the trio were facing a dedicated force of soldiers. Weapons were brought out, rocket launchers and guns and even a handful of beam weapons, fired from behind the wreckage of their own camp being used as cover. Yamcha and Eel stuck close to Vic, who acted as their vanguard as they pressed deeper into their assault on the camp. 

Vic let his metal body tank the hits that would put Eel out of commission, letting lasers glance off his silvery body and blasting apart any rockets that came close, while Eel periodically through out a limb shaped into a shield to absorb anything less explosive that was aimed at Yamcha or Vic. Meanwhile, Yamcha could do damage from a distance as well, firing in spurts that forced one group or another of soldiers to hunker down. 

After spending a year together, Eel and Yamcha were good friends, and better yet, they were a good team. Adding Vic into the mix came almost naturally. The three of them pushed further and further into the camp, putting down more and more soldiers, until finally one of the Captains shouted, “Retreat to higher ground! Six incoming!” 

All around them, the few still-standing Red Ribbon fled for the jungle, while the Captain who shouted reached into his jacket and threw out a capsule. It sailed through the air, and Vic, with his mechanical eye focusing in on the incoming projectile automatically, was just able to read “RRC06” before the capsule burst. 

The figure that emerged from the resulting cloud of vapor was reminiscent of Red Tornado. An inhumanly large frame, the Red Ribbon symbols spread across its body, painted red and gold, and completely covered in steel, not showing a single scrap of flesh on the outside. But it was also vastly different. Rather than the nearly faceless visage of Red Tornado, the steel of Red Torpedo’s head had been shaped into the expression of a grinning fang-toothed skull. Its head extended outwards behind it, before connecting to a water tank attached to the massive figure’s back. Trailing from the bottom of the tank was a long tail, which ended in a nozzle. On both giant feet, there was printed a gigantic “6”. Its right arm was a cannon, like Vic’s, while its left hand ended in an almost skeletal hand with long claw-like fingers. 

The black pits of its eyes were each illuminated by a small, but intensely burning, white light. 

“Okay,” Eel said, “That’s uh, that’s a lot scarier than I was expecting.” 

The captain, before he turned towards the jungle, lifted the remote to his lips, and shouted a single order: “Kill those three!” 

The terrifying figure turned its head to watch the Red Ribbon flee, and then scanned the destruction that surrounded them. Finally, its gaze settled on the trio. “Vic… Stone…” it growled out, its voice raspy.

Eel looked at Vic, “So, uh, what are our chances of diplomacy?” 

Vic grinned. 

“Good ‘ta see ‘ya!” Red Torpedo suddenly declared, “They’re tellin’ me ‘ta kill ‘ya? Good on ‘ya. Teenage rebellion fin’ly kickin’ in?” 

“Something like that. If you let us capsulize you, we’ve got a friend who knows how to get rid of our bombs,” Vic said, slapping himself on the chest, “She finally got that weight off my chest. She did the same for Red Tornado, and she can do the same for you and the others.” 

“Hmmm… mighty temptin’ offer,” Torpedo stated, “ But… ”

Eel sighed, putting his head into his hands, “Oh no.” 

“I’m gonna have ‘ta decline. I’m errin’ on ‘ta safe side o’ things. Got those radios ‘ya know. Red tied bastards always listenin’ in. If the Cap’n heard yer’ offer, then he’ll blow me up if I accept. So, I’m afraid that I’m gonna have ‘ta kill all ‘ya now. Nothin’ personal kids. ‘Ya understand.” 

Vic sighed, “Yeah. I do. Guys, according to Da- to Doctor Flappe, his button is under a panel on his elongated skull. We hit that, we win.” 

Red Torpedo reached forwards with his skeletal hand, and made a grasping motion. Behind them, the sea roared and began to climb up into the sky. The tower of water soon blotted out the sun, covering the beach in a deep, blue, shadow.

Chapter Text

General Blue swam between the masts of the ship, fragments of its sails still clinging to the wood and drifting with the currents, and then descended towards the deck of the ship. He came to a gentle landing, and walked across the sea-life covered wood until he spotted something shiny. Reaching down, he plucked out the destroyed remnant of one of their probes. 

Behind them, the water shifted as the massive form of the Manta-Sub moved to attack the newcomer, its shadow passing over them as it headed for the top of the cliff. 

He glanced towards the probe in his hand, and turned it over, looking for the cause of the damage. It seemed, somehow, to have been fried. As if struck by lightning, parts of the components had melted together, while others had been burned to the point of flaking away. The work of the newcomer’s submarine?

Perhaps. 

He tossed it towards one of his subordinates, “I’ll want to take a closer look at that on land,” he ordered. 

“Sir.” 

He pushed onwards, eyes gliding over the wreckage for any signs of orange. 

They had searched the seas around the island fairly exhaustively, but it was only in a perimeter around this wreck that their probes would fail. If the Dragon Ball wasn’t anywhere they could see, then it seemed fairly obvious to say that it was in the place they couldn’t see. And as the only thing of interest within the perimeter, whatever was guarding the Dragon Ball was likely tied to this ship. 

He approached a door to the captain’s cabin and pulled it open as delicately as he could with his telekinesis, not wanting to damage such a beautiful ship. Perhaps when Red Ribbon ruled the world, and Blue was given full reign of all the seas, he could return and salvage it. The concept appealed to him on a deep level. He had loved the sea his entire life, and stories of pirates had featured heavily in his boyhood dreams. He was quite proud of the fact that he himself was technically a pirate. He floated into the cabin of Captain Fear, and sighed in disappointment at the destroyed state of it. It seemed that the cabin had pierced itself on a particularly large rock when the ship dropped to the sea floor.

He swam closer, and then stopped in surprise as he realized that it wasn’t just a rock that the cabin had impaled itself on. It was the entrance to a cave. 

One that was labeled . 

Curving letters were etched into the rock. Some of them were the same as what he knew, but there were stranger symbols mixed in. But the answer came to him after a moment of trying to read the words that were at least a bit recognizable. 

This was Greek. Ancient Greek. 

“Photograph this,” he ordered, before gesturing for half the men to push onwards into the tunnel. Once five had entered, he swam in himself. Behind him, one of the remaining divers had used a capsule, creating a burst of vapor that quickly exploded into an even larger collection of bubbles. But at the center of it was a waterproof camera. Snagging the camera from the water, the soldier turned towards the writing on the cave, and began to snap pictures. 

And then a tentacle wrapped around him, squeezing hard enough to force the air from his lungs. 

“General Blue!” shouted one of them through his radio, “We’re under attack! Sir, we’re- ggggkkkh!” 

Blue, barely a few steps into the tunnel, whipped back around, to find that the five men he had been with just a second ago had vanished. A chill ran down his back, and he scanned the captain’s cabin carefully. 

But besides the absence of his men, nothing else was disturbed. This must have been what was destroying the probes.

He swam backwards into the cave, keeping an eye on the entrance as he went. He grabbed his powered gun, and he trained it on the opening. But eventually, his back touched rock, and he was forced to look away from the entrance to better navigate through the cave. Luckily, he still had a wide range of vision, but a blind spot, no matter how small, was still a blind spot. It made him nervous to turn his back. 

He swam quickly as he navigated the tunnel, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice, when he finally came out into an open cavern… and to the bodies of the five men he had sent ahead of him, riddled with spears. He bent down and picked up one of the weapons, wondering where it had come from, and swam forward cautiously- only to curse loudly as a spear lanced out of the nearby wall and collided with his side. 

He snarled, surprised and enraged, and on instinct his eyes focused, the lenses of the suit reacting in kind. His telekinesis, focused into two thin beams, blasted out of his helmet’s eyes and ripped through the stone wall in front of him. The beams shattered stone, tore through rock, and cut apart the earth around him like a flaming knife through butter. 

The moment passed, and he calmed himself, swimming forwards and plucking away part of the stone that he had cut through, pulling it from the wall. Behind it, he saw a strange mechanism- a piston launcher connected to a supply of spears, attached to a sculpted strange golden eye.

He waved his hand in front of it and the piston went off, launching another spear. 

Expecting it this time, he didn’t react as it hit him, the point of it, just like the last one, shattering uselessly as soon as it hit his reinforced and armored diving suit.

The tunnel was boobytrapped, and stranger yet, it had been through a combination of technologies primitive and advanced. The golden eye could detect motion through rock, but the weapon it was guiding was the equivalent of a pitching machine. He swum ahead through the tunnel, unafraid of the few remaining undamaged mechanisms, and the spears that pinged uselessly off his armor.

As he reached the next part of the tunnel, however, he noticed something with his expanded field of vision. Another creature that swam through unafraid- and one that the spear-launchers didn’t fire at at all. 

He gave no sign that he was aware of being followed, and simply kept on moving while he carefully watched the bizarre figure behind him. An armored man growing out of an octopus, wielding a trident. Some kind of metahuman, obviously, although Blue wasn’t sure of how he managed to fry the probe, when it didn’t seem to fit his theme. But then again, the golden head of the trident looked fairly similar to the machines attached to the spear-throwers. Another example of the same kind of technology? 

He pushed on ahead, and then turned a corner and waited. 

The octopus-man silently creeped past, moving too quickly to stop before he noticed Blue. 

Blue kicked off the wall and crashed into the metahuman, pressing the barrel of the gun against the metahuman’s chin, one of the few places his armor didn’t cover.

“Κᾰκός αἰγιαλός ἀνήρ!” the creature shouted.

 “First, tell me who you are, what this place is, and why you’ve been destroying our drones and killing my men,” Blue began, “And then I’d like the Dragon Ball.” 

“English?” The metahuman stiffened up, his hands shaking as he squeezed the trident. “Not just a surface-dweller, but an American , too,” the man growled, “You had best kill me, because I’ll never give up the secrets of Atlantis to another of your kind!” 

Blue blinked. “Say that again?” 

“I am Octo Orm Marius, Prince and Protector of the nation of Atlantis, and I am not afraid to give my life for my nation!” 

“What.” 

“Do your worst, air-breathing scum!” 

Blue frowned at the creature, before lifting his powered gun away and firing once at the wall. The stone shattered , and the sound of the blast echoed through the caves eerily. Octo blinked in surprise at the crater on the wall, and then flinched as the barrel was pressed back against his chin.

“Still want my worst?”

Octo swallowed nervously, “Er, when I called you scum earlier… that was just a little mistake on my part. A translation error.”

“I’ll forgive you if you can bring me the Dragon Ball.”

“I… am not sure what that is.” 

Blue frowned, “...It’s an orange spherical crystal, with red stars in it.” 

Octo’s eyes flashed with recognition, “I’ll bring you right to it. So no need to use that spell again, alright?”

“Alright,” Blue said, “But if we take too long, my trigger finger might get itchy.” 

Blue put his free hand on Octo’s shoulder, and held on as the creature crawled along the floor of the tunnel. They passed through more ancient rooms filled with similar traps to the spear-room, but none of them activated while Octo was present. 

All the while, he considered the ancient Greek writing on the undersea walls, the strange golden technology that studded so many of the rooms, and the words of the strange creature whose life he was holding in his hands. 

Atlantis. 

He had found Atlantis ?

And it was inhabited by Mermen?!

The part of Blue that still loved the pirates of his childhood was overjoyed at the thought. But the part of him that was a pragmatist and loyal warrior of the Red Ribbon was ecstatic . The Dragon Ball and the pirate treasure would have been enough to impress Commander Red. But an entire lost city, filled with a new kind of technology for them to steal and profit off, just as they had once stolen the capsule? 

Commander Red might even make him his right-hand man.

Chapter Text

Bruce slipped into the water from the Batmobile’s moonpool, his oxygen mask set over the exposed mouth and chin his mask didn’t cover, and drifted down towards the hole Clark had been digging at the top of the undersea plateau. Getting a closer look, it at the very least confirmed his fears. Clark had been attacked. Part of the sea-grass had been stomped down, by some kind of large sea creature. But even more concerning was the fact that the sea-grass around the hole was boiled , to start with. He swam along the path of damaged grass, and considered the width of it. Clark’s Kamehameha could vary in size depending on the effort he invested. But the casual, quick blasts that he didn’t bother charging up for long?

It could have made this path. Cooked this seaweed. 

He had been attacked by something that warranted the use of the Kamehameha.

He followed back along the path, this time focusing on the mud and sand underneath the plants. He didn’t find much, but nearby the hole, he spotted something shiny. He swam closer, and ran his hands through the silt, before pulling away with shards of glass. Shards as thick as the glass of Clark’s swimming mask. 

He stared at the pieces of glass, worried and conflicted, before turning his hand and letting them drift away with the current. 

Something large attacked him. Broke his mask. He tried to use the Kamehameha to defend himself…

Bruce found himself distracted as Bulma slipped into the water next, wearing nothing but the form-fitting Micron Suit. She let herself fall towards the hole Clark had been digging, and then turned her masked face towards his own, “Did you find anything?” 

“Clark was attacked,” Bruce said simply, not meeting her eyes and instead reaching down to gather another handful of sand, studded with a few more broken pieces of glass. As he did, however, his hand brushed against something hard, covered in a thin layer of mud. 

Bulma put her hands over her mouth, and jolted back as Bruce pulled Clark’s oxygen tanks free from the sand. Dangling from them was the ripped straps that had been meant to hold the pack to his body, and the pulled-free hose that was supposed to connect to his oxygen mask. “Oh God, Clark.” 

“He might still be alive,” Bruce said calmly, “There’s no blood, and Clark was one of Gohan’s students, just like me. I know for a fact that he can hold his breath longer than a normal human. If he won the fight that followed, he likely made it to the surface.” 

“Then why wasn’t he on the surface?” she asked, “Waiting for us?” 

“I’m not sure. It could be whatever attacked him dragged him off somewhere, or was chasing him, and he surfaced far enough away that we didn't notice him.” 

“Master Bruce? Miss Bulma?” Alfred suddenly interrupted through their radios, “I’ve been listening in. The Batmobile has its own radar, as well as a sonic scanner. I’ve been taking readings of the area, to see if I could spot young Clark.” 

“And?” Bulma asked. 

“There are many living things in the right size range he could be in the area,” Alfred said, “But more interestingly… the plateau you’re standing on is filled with tunnels. Some of which go deeper underground than the scanners can tell. There’s some creatures large enough to be Clark within them as well.” 

Above them, the Batmobile descended in the water, drawing close to the entrance Clark had been digging into the mountain.

“Underwater caves have been known to sometimes have air pockets,” Bruce said, considering. 

“The largest entrance is on the bottom of the cliff, hidden behind an old shipwreck,” Alfred reported. 

“Why would Clark have gone into some old shipwreck rather than try for the surface?” Bulma asked. 

“I don’t think he would have,” Bruce said, “But I think there’s a good chance that what he was attacked by might have taken him there.” He went back to the trail of the large creature, whatever it was, that had disturbed the sand and which had approached the hole unmolested- indicating that it caught Clark by surprise, or at least that Clark didn’t start fighting back until the creature was already next to him -and Bruce followed that trail further and further, towards the edge of the undersea plateau. “This is the side with the shipwreck, right Alfred?” 

“Correct sir.” 

Bulma swam along after him, clumsy in the water, her voice strained over their radio connection as she finally caught up at the edge of the undersea cliff. The glass over her eyes had fogged up from her heavy breath. “Swimming… isn’t as easy as you guys make it… look,” she said as she huffed and puffed.

“Why don’t you use the boosters in your shoes?” Bruce asked. 

“They’re not strong enough to push me when I weigh this much. It’s only when I’m tiny that I can actually fly with them,” she grumbled. 

He held out his hand instead, and Bulma eyed him for a moment, before reaching out and taking it as he swam over the edge. They made their way slowly down, further and further, Bulma trailing behind Bruce as he swam. 

The shipwreck was a sight to behold, apparently holding together fairly well, but what was more concerning were the corpses. At the very least, it confirmed that there was something down here that doesn’t like humans. He pulled Bulma closer to him as they passed by the bodies, trying to keep his cape between them and her vision, but all the same, she had gone stiff, every bit of her body practically radiating worry. 

“Clark is stronger than those Red Ribbon soldiers,” he said quietly. 

“I know.” 

“Alfred, there are bodies of Red Ribbon divers here. The door to the captain’s cabin is open, the trail leads to it, and we’re going in.”

“ Please exercise caution Master Bruce.” 

“Always,” he said, before gently pulling Bulma along after him. 

“Miss Bulma, please keep an eye on him.”

“Sure thing, Alfred.”

They slipped inside, spotting the cave entrance the ship had lodged up against. Bruce noted the Greek writing on the outside of the cave with interest, “If you are one blessed by Arion enter of your own free will and know you will come to no danger. Those who are still held sway by the bastard shaker of the Earth and his siblings, do not enter, or you will meet with the wealthy one before your time.” Bruce read.

“...What?” 

“The writing on the rock.” 

“You can read Greek?” 

“I can read a lot of things. And it’s not just Greek. It’s ancient Greek.” 

“You can read ancient Greek? ” Bulma asked, incredulous. 

“Is there an echo?” Bruce asked, swimming inside. 

“What did it mean?” 

“You know what it means. I translated it.” 

“No, no, about Arion and the bastard shaker and the wealthy one.” 

“I don’t know who Arion is. Maybe a corruption of the word for shore, E’ion, but it seemed like a name. But the ancient greeks often used epithets to avoid calling the attention of their gods. The earth-shaker is Poseidon, god of the sea. The wealthy one is Hades, ruler of the dead.” 

“So… what, you can come in if you’re blessed by the beach, but if you like the ocean you’ll end up dead?” 

“Something like that. Although I think it was more a warning about liking the gods, then liking the ocean.” 

They slipped into the tunnel, and Bulma nervously glanced behind her at the drifting bodies, despite how Bruce tried to shield her from the sight with his cape. “Do you think the Red Ribbon were big on the Olympians?”

“I doubt it.” 

“Then why do you think it killed them?” 

“I think we’ll probably find out.” 

Chapter Text

“-come on, come on…” 

There was a pushing against Clark’s chest, something pressing into it with superhuman strength. It was almost like being punched by Bane, over and over. His chest felt sore, and his lungs burned. 

And then the punching stopped. 

And something soft pressed against his lips. It was warm, and filled him with warmth.

His eyes opened in shock, staring at another face from very close, eyes directly in front of his own wrenched shut in concentration as whoever this was blew air into his throat. He shoved the other person away on instinct, and took several gulping breaths, before hacking and coughing as moisture came up. 

“Oh, you’re alive,” said a soft, feminine voice, filled with relief. 

He blinked around tears, and looked up at the source of the voice. A teenage girl, with long purple hair and a bright red swim shirt bearing the words “Pie Pie”, was staring at him with flushed red cheeks, still breathing a little heavily. She was wearing some kind of green shiny dress over her legs. Her eyes were a startlingly clear blue, and she was staring intently at him. 

He swallowed nervously, and realized he could taste salt. “Wh-” he croaked, before coughing again. He wasn’t sure whether he had been about to ask who, what, or where, before pain racked his chest. 

“Careful there, little student,” a low, soft voice said from behind him, “You swallowed a whole ‘lot of water there.’ 

“St-student?” Clark managed, turning around towards the other voice. It was only then that he realized he was inside a cave. Illuminated from inside by strange plants growing on the walls. There were no entrances or exits to the cave, bizarrely, except possibly for the pool of water some distance away. As he looked around, even more alarmingly, he realized that there were only two people inside the cave. Himself, and the girl. 

Although there was also a sea turtle. 

“A student, yes. You’ve been training under little Gohan, right?” 

“Little?” Clark asked, confused. He kept looking around, but he still couldn’t identify the source of the voice, “Where-” 

“Down here.” 

He looked down, and stared at the sea turtle. 

It blinked slowly at him, “Nice to meet you,” it said. 

“Oh. Um. Nice to meet you too.” Well. He had probably seen weirder things. He looked behind him at the girl, “And you too. Did- was that um,” he swallowed back some more saltiness, and almost gagged, “Did you do CPR on me? Did… did I die?” 

“Your heart stopped,” she confirmed, shifting forwards towards him along her hands and knees. She shimmied towards him, and then put a hand on his shoulder, looking at his face closely. Then, she raised one hand towards his neck. He swallowed nervously again, “But your pulse is back, and strong again. I was worried you wouldn’t wake up.” 

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him, “You’re welcome. But honestly, you should be thanking Turtle.” 

He glanced down at the turtle.

“Um. Thank you too, Turtle. You helped too?” 

“Not much,” the Turtle said, “But I convinced Lori to go and help you, she did all the work after that.” 

“Lori?” Clark asked. 

“That’s me,” the girl said, gesturing to herself as she let go of him and shimmied backwards in a way that made Clark frown. Why was she moving like- 

That’s not a dress.

That’s not a dress at all.

That’s a fish tail. 

Clark’s face began to flush, and he quickly looked away from her, “Um, I’m Clark,” he replied, focusing on the very interesting ground in front of him. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s um-” 

Turtle moved closer, shuffling forwards on his flippers, “You’re turning red. Do you have a fever?” 

“No! Just…” he glanced back up towards Lori, “I just realized you’re not wearing anything below your waist.” 

“Well, I don’t have much to cover up down there right now.” 

“Still!” Clark protested. 

She smirked at him for a bit, and then rolled her eyes and quickly moved back to the pool of water, “I’ll go get something to hide my tail with, then, I don’t want to insult your modesty.” 

“Sorry. Thank you for saving my life, Lori.” Clark said, still blushing fiercely.

“No problem. Anything for a student of Son Gohan’s.” With that, she slipped into the water and vanished, leaving him alone in the cave with Turtle. 

“...How do you know Master Gohan?” Clark asked, turning towards Turtle. 

“That’s a really long story, but for now, let’s just say that I know the Turtle Hermit very well, and have been friends for a very long time. We still meet up to play cards, every once in a while. I met Gohan and Kull when they were training with the Hermit, and I watched Gohan grow up. When he started his own school, he showed me the uniform he had his students wear, and told me to keep an eye on them. So… I have.” 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad. Did Lori ever meet Son Gohan?”

“Once, when she was very young,” the Turtle said, “But she was too young to remember. Certainly she wasn’t old enough to recognize your uniforms on sight, so don’t hold that against her. Anyway… What brings you to the middle of the ocean, Clark? Is it part of your training, swimming from one continent to another?” 

Clark grinned, “Nothing that intense. I’m actually looking for something with my friends. Have you ever heard of the Dragon Balls?” 

Turtle looked to the side, and seemed to consider the question. 

“...Maybe. Is that Shazon’s thing?” 

“What?” Clark asked, surprised, “Um. Maybe?” Clark frowned, looking to the side and thinking, “When Doctor Sivana summoned the Dragon, he did say a word like that. Who’s Shazon?”

“The Lord of Order,” Turtle said simply, “the Earth’s Guardian God.” 

“ God! ?” 

“No need to shout!” 

Clark frowned, looking away, “Sorry Turtle. But that’s… I guess that makes sense. God made everything, right? So He would have made the Dragon Balls too.” 

“Oh, no, not that god. Sorry. I forgot about that whole… What are they called nowadays? Christmen? It makes things confusing. Shazon is the Guardian of Earth, not its maker. He’s not the Source of anything. Well, I guess he did still make a lot of things. Like a wish-granting Dragon.” 

“That’s what I’m looking for, at least,” Clark said, choosing to ignore the rest of the stuff Turtle was talking about for the moment. As much as hearing about other religions was interesting, it wasn’t really relevant at the moment, “The wish-granting Dragon. You bring it out by gathering together seven Dragon Balls, scattered across the Earth. We were following a device that told us that one of them was on the seafloor. We thought it had fallen into a crack, so I was digging for it on the seafloor when someone attacked me.” 

“That’d be the Ocean Master,” Turtle said with a nod. 

“Ocean Master?”

“The protector of Atlantis.” 

“Atlantis?!” 

Turtle blinked slowly, “It’s where you are right now.” 

“This cave?” 

“Yeah.” Turtle said, sounding amused, “Or at least, this cave is part of it. Most of it is further down below.” He gestured to the water pool. 

Clark opened his mouth to ask more questions, but wasn’t sure which one to ask first. Instead, he reached for his waist, and pulled out a small capsule from his bag, “Do you mind if I take a picture?” 

“I don’t mind.” 

Clark used the capsule, and the Turtle watched with interest as the camera appeared. 

“My, surface-dweller technology has gotten fancy lately, hasn’t it?” 

“I really has,” Clark said with a grin. He snapped a photo of some of the strange light-up plants, and then a picture of Turtle, before finally aiming for the pool. He pressed down on the button, but just before the picture was taken, Lori emerged from the pool with a sudden splash, leaping out like a dolphin and displaying the sparkling orange and green dress she was wearing as she was momentarily airborne. 

As she landed in front of him on a curl of her tail, Clark stared down at the absolutely beautiful picture he took. Still blushing slightly, he lowered the camera.

“Well, is that better?” Lori asked with a grin. 

“Um.” 

Chapter Text

Clark sucked in a deep breath as he slipped into the water pool, and reached out his hand for Lori to take.

She waited for Turtle to slip into the water next, and then with a simple swipe of her tail, propelled herself through the tunnel. Like the cave below, it was lit up with all manner of glowing plants, clinging to walls, hanging from the ceiling, and growing up from the floors. Clark observed them with interest, but at the same time, he was nervous about air. He had already drowned once today, and he wasn’t interested in repeating the experience. 

Luckily, Lori seemed to know the tunnels well, swimming down one path or another at high speed without the slightest hesitation. 

He had known she was strong from the way she pounded his chest to revive him, but the sheer speed they were moving at, powered by nothing but the swings of her tail, spoke to her sheer strength as well. He wondered how well she could fight. 

He lost his trail of thought as she pulled him down and out of a tunnel, and into one of the strangest and most beautiful places he had ever seen. 

“Welcome to Atlantis,” she said, grinning at him. 

Clark was at a loss for words, staring out at the massive cavern that stretched out in front of them. Far below him, there was an endless field of green. Coral, sea plants of all kinds, and countless colorful fish transformed the bottom of the gigantic cavern into a massive garden. All of it illuminated from above by the glowing forest hanging from the ceiling- or rather, hanging from all the things hanging from the ceiling. 

The roof of the cavern was filled with gorgeous stone structures. Houses, towers, domes, even elegant statues were suspended from the ceiling, and served as anchors for the forest of light-giving plants. An entire city, made from polished stone and shining golden steel, was hanging upside down. 

He snapped a photo. 

Lori flinched at the flash of his camera, and hurried to dart in front of him, looking around. Sure enough, a handful of other merfolk had looked their way, but upon seeing Lori, continued swimming along. She reared back on him, and narrowed her eyes, “No more flashes! Look, you’re not supposed to be in here. If you get found out, I’m gonna get in trouble. So… no more flashes, okay?” 

He nodded, and tried to show her an apologetic expression. 

She put a hand on her hip, but accepted it, “Okay. Just as long as we’re clear.” She began to pull him along again, waiting only long enough for Turtle to catch up before she took off for the roof of the cavern. 

As they got closer to the upside-down city, he saw that it wasn’t merely the aesthetic of the buildings, it really was an upside-down city. There were roads, lamp posts, gutters and sewers, alleys and bridges over divots that must have been waterways. All of it now overgrown with the glowing plants. Lori tugged him to a particular structure, a large well-decorated dome-shaped building, and pulled him in through a doorway. She led him through a large greeting hall, and then through a hall leading to a reversed staircase heading downwards. 

She pulled him along towards it. When the pair reached the second floor of the building she tugged him towards one of the rooms, the only one actually possessing a door.

Clark watched as Lori reached out with her free hand to touch the wood. Light spread across her hand, and Clark frowned as she slowly gestured downwards. All at once, gravity exerted itself on Clark again as the space around him was filled with air. He sucked in a deep breath, and let go of Lori’s hand, only to immediately splash back into the water again. 

Turtle shook his head at Clark, and the teen looked back upwards to see the bubble of air slowly expanding over the area around the door. He kicked off the floor- or maybe it was the ceiling, and pushed back into the bubble, grabbing onto Lori again, who was keeping herself half-submerged in the water outside the bubble.

“Careful,” she warned, “Sorry, I didn’t think about how surprising this must be. Surface dwellers don’t have a lot of magic, do they?” 

“Not until recently,” he admitted, clinging to her closely.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it pretty quick. I did.” 

The door swung open, and she swung her tail hard enough to launch the pair of them through it. Clark looked back, and saw Turtle swim back a few feet, before flapping his flippers as fast as he could to burst into the air bubble and fly through the open door. As soon as he was clear, Lori let the glowing stop, and the door swung shut behind him. 

The three landed with a splash back into water. Clark paddled his arms, pushing to the surface, and looked around in confusion at the room. 

For one thing, the top half of the room was filled with air, while the bottom half was still submerged. In the part of the room above the water, there was a bed, a desk with a seahorse-shaped pool-float for a chair, and shelves and shelves filled with all kinds of things. Toys. Stained stuffed animals. Snowglobes. Folded-up shirts and jeans. Various bits of technology in various states of disrepair. Glass bottles. And, most impressive of all, outright gold-and-jewels style treasure .

Bizarrely, there were posters of boy bands and rock and roll groups nailed to the walls. 

“Is… this your room, Lori?” 

“Yeah. Um, sorry about the mess.” She said, blushing with embarrassment as she watched him look at the shelves and the walls. She swam past him, and then jumped up and out of the water to land on the bed. She patted the cushion next to her, and Clark hesitated for a moment before he did the same.  He realized as he climbed up that it had a transparent cover over it, making it waterproof, if not particularly comfy. “It was the only place I could think to put you.” 

“Wait- put me?” Clark asked. 

“Well, I can’t exactly go around Atlantis tugging around a surface-dweller. I’ll get in trouble. It’s bad enough that I went out on my own, if they discover I went out and brought someone back… well, the council would freak out. Not to mention they’d try to execute you.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” he agreed, “But this seems kind of extreme, doesn’t it? Do they kill anyone who goes diving around here?” 

“Basically,” she admitted with a look of disgust, “It’s awful. Not many people dive out here, this far from land, but from time to time, innocent people will come close and… it’s awful.” 

Clark nodded, frowning, “So how are we getting me out?” Clark asked. 

“We’ll wait until evening,” she decided, “When the glow-plants start dimming, I’ll pull you to the main entrance. With me there, the magical defenses won’t turn on, and you should be able to go through. From there, it should just be a straight shot to the surface.” 

Clark frowned at that, “But then what about the Dragon Ball?” 

“Dragon Ball?” 

“What I’m here for,” Clark said, gesturing to the sea turtle. 

“It’s an artifact that can summon a magical wish-granting dragon,” Turtle said. 

“It fell into a crack on the seafloor, and I still need to get to it. We… right now we’re under the cliff, right?” She nodded. “Then the Dragon Ball has to be somewhere down here. In the caves.” 

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to give up on it. If you hang around, it’s only a matter of time before Ocean Master finds you, and then you’ll be dead in the water again.” 

“I can’t do that,” Clark said, “We need it. My friend has an injury that we need the Dragon’s wish to heal. And the other people who are after the Dragon Balls aren’t going to stop until they find it either. Worse, they’re willing to kill anyone who gets in their way. If I don’t get the Dragon Ball away from here, the Red Ribbon Army will just send more and more people here until they find it.”

Turtle and Lori shared a look, and the mermaid sighed. “I’m going to get in trouble.” 

“Some things are worth getting in trouble for, though,” Turtle said cheerfully. 

“True,” Lori admitted, “...It felt nice being able to save someone from Ocean Master. It’s something I’ve been itching to do forever. But the last time I tried…” she hugged herself, looking conflicted. 

“What happened?” Clark asked. 

She shuddered, “You experienced it for yourself. The Ocean Master’s Trident. It’s made of enchanted Eighth Metal, and is the most dangerous weapon in Atlantis. The first time I tried to go up against an Ocean Master, he blasted me with lightning. I didn’t know any magic then and I didn’t have any way to deflect it. I barely survived. The divers I was trying to rescue… didn’t.” 

“I’m sorry, Lori,” Clark said, “But I think it’s still brave that you tried.” 

She smiled at him, “Thanks, Clark, I think you’re pretty brave too.” She shifted forwards, and slipped off the bed, dropping into the water and swimming toward one of the shelves as she began looking through her supplies, “If we’re going to be spending time in the caves looking for something, we’ll have to get you something you can breathe in. There’s only so many caves with air in them.” 

She slipped under the water, and then came back up with an old-fashioned diving helmet. One of the ones with a big circular window for the face, “That should work. Now I just need to…” she narrowed her eyes in concentration, and a glow began to cover her hands. She pressed them both against the helmet, and the ancient metal-and-glass piece shuddered, before spraying water out from inside it. “There. Air bubble spell, centralized around the helmet.” She turned it over, and Clark saw lines of glowing light making a kind of grid over the bottom, holding the air inside. He never got a good look at Doctor Sivana’s book before Eel and Mister Atom destroyed it, but that matched the description. 

Magic. 

Clark smiled, “My friend Bulma would love to talk to you. She- well, I guess she didn’t discover magic after all. But she proved it existed to us ‘surface-dwellers’.” 

“I’m still not the best magician,” Lori admitted, “I could maybe manage a ward against lightning now, but lightning is just the start of what the Ocean Master’s Trident can do to hurt you.” She would have said more, but the sound of a loud bell shook the room. 

“What is that?” Clark asked. 

“The… intruder alarm,” Lori said, wincing, “More people after your Dragon Ball? Those Red Ribbon people?” 

“Come on” he said, taking the helmet from her and shoving it over his head, uncaring as the lines of golden light passed through his head harmlessly, “Let’s go check it out.”

Chapter Text

“What the-” Octo said as the bell began to toll, “How!?” He stared up at the city above, but didn’t rise up out of the seagrass that surrounded them, trying to stay hidden from any of the other Atlanteans.

“What’s going on?” General Blue asked with a growl, pressing his gun harder against Octo’s chin.

“N-nothing to worry about! Just the intruder alarm.” 

“Did you sell me out?” Blue hissed, pressing the gun harder against his face. 

“Of course not! The system shouldn’t have even noticed you if you were with me. Only a surface-dweller entering without a guide could set it off. It must be one of your men.” 

Blue frowned, “Damn it, fine. If they’re already on high alert, then we’ll have to take advantage of the chaos. Lead me to the ball, double-time, octopus.” He relaxed the gun slightly, still keeping it close, but no longer pressing against skin.

“It’s Octo Orm Marius.” 

Blue cocked the gun. 

“Octopus is fine,” Octo muttered, hurriedly swimming faster along the ground, rushing for one of the cave entrances while trying to keep out of sight. Above them, countless mermaids and mermen with various kinds of aquatic lower bodies swam past, heading for the way they came. But their luck could only hold out for so long. 

“<Ocean Master!>” cried a merman in ancient Greek as he was swimming past, “<I almost didn’t see you! Hurry, there are surface-dwellers coming out of Fero’s Tunnel! We need you to slay them!>” 

“<Of course, citizen!>” Orm bellowed, putting his fist against his chest, “<I’ll be right on it!>” 

“What’s going on?” Blue asked, his voice cold. 

“Just… work with me here,” Blue hissed quickly, “My reputation is ruined if anyone knows I let you in here, so let me talk.” 

“I don’t care about your reputation,” Blue hissed back, keeping his mass hidden behind Octo’s, “I care about-” 

“The dragon ball jewel,” Octo hurriedly whispered, cutting him off, “I know, but I’m the only one who knows where it is, so you had best work with me , surface-dweller.” With that, Octo darted to the side, revealing General Blue. Blue was a moment away from simply shooting them both when Octo declared, “<Behold, my newest work of sorcery! I call it… the Black Manta! An enchanted set of armor, designed to hunt surface-dwellers.>”

“< You created that, Prince Octo?>” the merman asked, surprised and impressed. 

“<Indeed. And now, it’ll follow me as I go deal with these invaders!>” Octo began to swim away. Blue considered the merman, and then the octopus-man. Well, if the ruse was working… He kicked off the ground and swam after Octo back the way they came. “The story is that you’re an automaton I enchanted, don’t say anything, just work with me.” Octo said to him quietly in English.

“You’re dead the moment I sense betrayal, I hope you know.” 

“I know, I know…” 

If worse comes to worst, he could always come back with Cyborg Six. The cybernetic superweapon’s hydrokinesis would make short work of whatever militia the merfolk possess, he was sure, and give his men the chance to search Atlantis exhaustively for the ball and anything else they could take in the name of the Red Ribbon Army.

Octo pushed past the gathering crowd of merfolk, and Blue swam after him. He was getting a number of concerned looks from the merfolk he passed, but by being in close proximity to Octo without the knight attacking him seemed to be enough for them to dismiss him as a threat. 

Octo swam past a number of other armored mermen, and then brandished his trident towards the intruders. Blue, from his position at Octo’s side, looked downwards at the intruders… and drew a blank. A woman dressed in bright red and blue, and a man dressed as a bat. “Are these your men?” Octo asked quietly. 

“I have no idea who they are. Just kill them,” Blue whispered.

“<We no harmful>” the one in the bat mask was pleading in a poor attempt at their language as he stood protectively in front of the woman, “<Looking for friend are we that->” he trailed off as Octo and Blue approached. “The Red Ribbon Army,” he snarled in English, spotting the symbols on Blue’s armor, “Bulma, shrink down and hang on!” 

The gathered merfolk let out gasps of shock as the woman was surrounded by rings of light, and rapidly began to shrink. Twin flames ignited on the bottom of her feet, boiling the water behind her and leaving a trail of bubbles as she sped towards the man in the bat costume and grabbed onto his cowl. As soon as she was secure, he kicked off the floor, and swam rapidly towards Octo and Blue. 

“<Invaders, prepare to die!>” Octo called out for the benefit of his people as he lowered his trident, aiming it at the pair. Electricity crackled along its length as he prepared to smite his foes, only to have his aim ruined as the trident was knocked aside by a red pole. He turned his head, and followed the length of the pole towards its source, held in the hands of a short deep-sea diver with an old-fashioned helmet. But besides the helmet… that outfit, that stature, Octo recognized them. 

They belonged to the intruder he had killed less than an hour ago. Actually, those blue robes matched the ones that the bat-faced intruder was wearing as well. “You survived,” he said, shocked, “But how did…” his eyes shifted, following behind the boy to the form of a large sea turtle. And where Turtle went, she followed. 

“Lori Le Marius!” Octo growled, “<Stop hiding behind your elders, halfbreed.>” 

Sure enough, a purple-haired mermaid slipped out from where she was hidden from view behind Turtle’s shell, looking nervous but… defiant. 

“<Mom told you to stop calling me that,>” Lori snapped.

“<By your royal name? Gladly, Ariel Curry . What are you doing with a surface-dweller?>” 

“<What are you doing with one, Octo?>” she countered.

“<You will address me by my proper title, halfbreed . And for your information, this is the Black Manta. An enchanted suit of armor I created with sorcery to help hunt down our enemies, enemies like the ones you led into Atlantis!>” Octo protested.

“<Why does it have two legs, then? Why is it wearing a surface-dweller criminal group’s symbol?>” 

“Er,” Octo inched back, and Blue sighed, bubbles escaping from the sides of his helmet.

“This is a waste of time,” Blue said, before sliding his gaze across everyone gathered. Maybe a hundred merfolk, twenty of which were carrying spears and were lightly armored, the rest civilians. A metahuman woman with the ability to change her size clinging to a masked man in a blue uniform- just like the uniform of the metahuman child who had been interfering with Red Ribbon. In fact, the one in the diving helmet was the right height and wearing the right outfit to be him. Which meant they were likely part of the same faction, Blue realized. Enemies to the Red Ribbon, one and all. 

But he had his orders. The boy had to die for sure. The others could wait. It was a shame, though. He had been looking forward to a decent fight. He raised the gun and fired at the boy. The powered bullet sailed through the water and tore a path of bubbles as it went, before colliding with the boy’s staff, rather than the glass of his helmet like Blue had been aiming for. The boy moved fast, managing to interpose his weapon between himself and the bullet. The powered pistol was designed for use against armored opponents and super-durable metahumans. It could shatter stones, pierce tanks, kill nearly anything. But the weapon didn’t even have a mark on it. The only effect that the shot had was spinning the boy backwards through the water as the force of the bullet transferred through the staff.

“<What kind of spell was that!?>” one of the merfolk shouted, swimming away in a hurry. Suddenly, there was a flurry of motion all around them, the civilian merfolk fleeing while the soldiers hurried forwards. 

Octo took his chance without a target painted on him to swim away from Blue and bring his Trident to bear. Light began to crackle along its length as he aimed for Blue. A moment later, Octo cast a bolt of lightning which surged out of the three prongs and lanced toward Blue- But Octo could only to stare in shock as the lightning curved around his target and struck the garden below, sending up shattered pieces of coral and boiled shreds of plant. 

Chapter Text

“<How->” Octo began, before finding himself getting pulled through the water towards Blue. He threw up a glowing shield, a ward, but it had no effect. His hands flashed a different color, and tried another one. It didn’t work either. He wasn’t being pulled forwards by the water, by gravity, or by any other kind of spell he could think of. But he was still being pulled. “<Magic Materialization!>” an anchor appeared over the man’s head, but it immediately started falling off course, pushed away by whatever force was pulling him. Worse, as he got closer to Blue, his body froze in place, every tentacle going supernaturally still.

“I thought I told you that you would die at the first sign of betrayal,” Blue said coolly. 

“Wh-what magic is this!?” Octo ground out in English through a mouth that could only slightly move.

“No magic. This is what we air-breathing scum call telekinesis,” Blue said cheerfully, before reaching forwards with his free hand and yanking the trident out of Octo’s hand. “But this is magic, you say?” The metal was oddly warm to the touch, and lighter than he would have expected for its mass. He wondered how it spat out lightning.

He spun it idly, before jabbing it towards the boy. The prongs immediately crackled to life and then fired. 

Ah. That was how.

 Lori darted forwards, hands glowing, and managed to create a shield of light that the lightning vanished into, leaving nothing behind. The boy swam out from behind her, and threw his hands forwards. “ Kamehameha !” Ki pooled between them before he shot it out in a concentrated beam of turquoise light. 

Blue’s eyes flashed brighter, and like the lightning before it, the wave of ki was bent around him, sent flying towards the blue-garbed boy’s allies instead. 

“Damn it!” the bat-faced one shouted as he swung his hands forwards together. But there was only a small shift in the water in front of him, even as the blast roared towards him and the woman. “Really? Fine. If that’s what it takes… Kamehameha! ” Bruce screamed, calling out the name of the attack.

With that final roar, he sent out a small wave of his own energy in a barely-controlled flash of yellow. The bent beam of turquoise light crashed into the burst of yellow, and both blasts detonated in response, shoving the bat-faced man backwards as a result, smashing him into the wall near the entrance. Hurt by the exchange, but not as much if he had taken the blast head on. 

“That was a Turtle School technique. Of course! Why didn’t I recognize you earlier?” Blue said, delighted, “You’re wearing the robes of the Gohan School. No wonder nothing we’ve thrown your way has put you down.” He spun the trident in his hand again, and then swam rapidly towards the boy, the spear-points facing forwards. A flash of his eyes pushed away everything between them, knocking aside Octo, the Atlantean guards, as well as Lori and a nearby sea turtle. Just as before, the boy swung his own staff forwards as a shield, catching the trident’s prongs before they could impale him. “I would have your name. I am General Blue, the most skilled martial artist of the Red Ribbon Army.” 

“It’s Clark,” he said, “I’ve been looking forward to fight you!” he said cheerfully as he kicked his legs against the water in an attempt to push Blue back, straining with both arms to keep his staff in place even as Blue pushed forwards ruthlessly. 

“Likewise, brat.” Blue twisted at the trident. Seeing that his efforts weren't working, Clark switched gears- and also switched his hands, changing the way he was gripping the staff. Suddenly spinning his staff, the trident, locked in place by its prongs, spun as well. It slipped from Blue’s grip, and Clark used the opportunity to kick him in the stomach, knocking him back through the water. 

“Lori!” Clark called, before pulling the trident free of his staff and throwing it towards the mermaid.

She swam forwards and caught it, before angling the weapon towards Blue. “Surrender, and you will not be harmed!” 

Blue cocked his gun and pointed it at her, only to flinch as she narrowed her eyes, and thrust downwards with the trident. All at once, it was like he was caught in a current, all the water around him shoving downwards. The gun was ripped from his grasp by the force of the stream.

 Blue’s eyes flashed, and at once he was still again, despite the water pushing and pushing and pushing against him. 

The mermaid was assailing him with a deluge. The boy was swimming ahead, raising his staff to attack. Behind Blue the Atlantean guards seemed to have regained their wits and were closing in, their own maybe-magical weapons pointed forwards. Octo was swimming towards him as well, his hands glowing with magic. Behind them , the woman had grown back to full size, and then passed it, becoming a giantess who was returning the favor of carrying the bat-faced man on her shoulder. 

He was surrounded, it seemed. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, before reaching to his bandolier and pulling free a grenade. He pressed the button, and then with a flash of his eyes, telekinetically propelled it towards the oncoming group. The giant woman reacted first, swinging her hands forwards in a clap that sent water rushing forwards, blowing the grenade away from them- but not far enough. 

It went off in a massive flare of light and sound, and he winced himself as the shockwaves carried easily through the water, buffeting everyone nearby. But he had been prepared for it, and acted quickly. He reached out with his power, and once again seized Octo, yanking the merman away from the others and pulling him close. Pushing the gun back against the weak-willed knight’s chin, he changed the focus on the lenses of his helmet, and aimed his glare right for Clark. 

The focused twin beams of telekinetic force lanced out and smashed into the helmet, ripping it from his head. Oddly, for a moment a bubble of air seemed to remain around the boy’s head, despite nothing holding it in place, but it too broke under the force of Blue’s will. The beams pushed forwards, and smashed into Clark’s forehead. 

Blood spurted outwards, and the boy went sailing away into the forest of glowing plants covering the ceiling, smashing through an ancient sculpture as he went. 

Blue knew he would have to check for a body afterwards, but that was at least one thing off his list. Next would be the Dragon Balls. Starting with the one he had been sent into the Atlantic to find. Blue glared down at Octo, “Lead the way or die, full speed.” 

“Y-you don’t have your weapon anymore!” Octo snarled, “I’m not afraid of-” Blue’s eyes flashed intensely, the lenses once again focusing and Octo screamed in pain as the twin beams of sheer force slammed into his head, yanking his skull back and straining his neck. The steel of his helmet was pulled apart and shredded, tossed out into the water behind him as metal flakes. The face of the Ocean Master had been torn away, leaving instead the face of a terrified teenager before the invader from the surface. 

“Lead the way. Or die . Full. Speed,” Blue repeated, his tone deadly serious.

Octo nodded fearfully, and began to swim as fast as he could, Blue managing to keep up despite his human legs. The giantess and the bat-faced Gohan student had been sufficiently distracted by the death of their friend, heading for the upside-down city above, as had the mermaid carrying the trident. As for the Atlantean guard, they were still following, but at a cautious distance, wary of more bombs and of Blue’s eyes. 

As they crossed the entire massive cavern, Octo led them into another tunnel on the wall’s face, and quickly started ascending through a maze of stone, Blue following closely behind. As they passed through one particularly narrow tunnel, however, Blue stopped to drop a grenade behind them, caving it in. 

“But-” Octo began, “How are we going to get back out?” 

“We’re inside the undersea plateau, are we not?” Blue asked, “That amount of rock should be easy enough to bore my way out from. But for now, this will discourage pursuers. Now keep moving. I’ve given you enough warnings. From this point on, each and every distraction or setback will result in you losing a limb. You’ve certainly got enough to spare.” 

Octo swallowed nervously, looked behind him at the sealed-off wall of rock, and sighed, pushing onwards. But as he went, unnoticed by Blue, he began to leave a small trail of ink behind. 

Chapter Text

Bulma kicked at the water, swimming upwards towards the rock as fast as she could, but even with her large size advantage, Bruce and the mermaid moved faster. They zipped upwards, and the mermaid reached Clark first. At once, she waved the trident and a bubble of air rippled into being around Clark.

Bruce reached him next, shoving his way into the pocket of air, and then reaching down to touch Clark’s head, wincing at the still-bleeding wound on Clark’s forehead even as he reached down to cradle the teen’s head. 

Bulma shrank back to regular size, and pulled her way into the bubble as well, eyeing Clark first, and then the mermaid, “Okay, first thing’s first. Do you have doctors down here?” 

“We- of course.” 

“Go find one,” Bulma ordered. 

“I need to support the air bubble,” she said, gesturing to the trident, “And… none of our healers would treat a surface-dweller anyway.” 

“Then I’ll try something,” Bruce pulled down his oxygen mask, and then closed his eyes, raising his hands up towards Clark’s head, “Bulma,” he began, “Tell me the moment the wound closes, alright?” 

“Okay. Is this the medical ki you wanted to show me?” 

“Hopefully. I’ve never managed it, even though Clark and Master Son could,” Bruce said, narrowing his eyes, “But I’m going to at least try.” 

He held out his hands, and concentrated. After a few moments, sparks formed between his hands, before blossoming into a continuous glow. Light flickered across his palms at first in a deep yellow, but as he concentrated on healing, it slowly shifted, tinging green, then shifting to blue, and then finally an indigo shade as the energy seemed to finally seep into Clark’s body. Bruce pressed his hands harder against Clark’s head, and Bulma watched carefully as Bruce poured more and more of himself through the connection.

“There!” Bulma said suddenly. 

Bruce pulled back with a gasp, the light fading from his shaking hands. 

“Gohan taught you well.”

All three of the awake people within the bubble jumped at that, whipping their heads towards the source of the voice- a sea turtle. 

“That turtle just spoke,” Bulma said, “...How?” 

“That’s a really long story, but for now, let’s just say that basically it was magic,” Turtle said simply.

“How do you know of Gohan?” Bruce asked, suspicious. 

“I met him a long time ago, while he was training under Muten Roshi,” he replied, “You’ve done well to come so far. Using your own ki to heal another is an advanced technique, especially without the help of the the Dragon’s Fang.”

Bruce looked down to Clark, and then back to the turtle, “Is… he going to be alright? Did I give him enough?” 

“More than enough,” the turtle said with a nod, “You did a good job.” 

Bruce nodded, sighing in relief. 

“Good, good,” Bulma began, “But if the emergency’s over… what the hell is this place!? We followed the trail of a monster into a pirate ship, and then into a cave, and then Br- Chirottero here was deflecting spears that were coming out of the walls, and… and now we’re here. In an upside down, mermaid-populated, magic-using, ancient Greek city, at… at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. Oh god damn it, this is Atlantis isn’t it.” 

The mermaid holding the magical trident shrugged, “Yeah. I had the same reaction at first too.” 

Bulma frowned, looking up at her in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

She sighed, “As Turtle would say, it’s a long story,” she looked up behind them, “And I don’t think we’ll have time to tell it, right now.” 

Bruce and Bulma turned around as well, and saw that a number of the Atlantean guards were heading their way, moving cautiously with their spears held forwards. And considering the tips of the weapons seemed to be made of the same not-gold that the clearly-magical trident was, the pair knew that those might not just be spears. 

The leader of the guards barked out something in Atlantean, which Bruce could only barely get the gist of, and which sounded like nonsense to Bulma, but she understood well enough the spear pointing at her face. 

The mermaid darted forwards, still holding the trident towards the bubble to maintain it, but put herself between the guards and the surface-dwellers as she shouted Atlantean right back at them. The argument seemed to grow more and more heated by the second, until finally she spun the trident away from Clark and brought it to bear against the other Atlanteans, who flinched back at the sight of it. She held it up higher, and then with a snarl, made the weapon glow bright enough to be almost blinding. 

Bulma and Bruce worried as the bubble shrank with each second she wasn’t maintaining it, but when the light subsided, the other guards had shifted back, and were bowing their heads to the mermaid. Now that she apparently had them under control, she turned back and the air bubble inflated back to its previous size, “I’m… sorry about that.” 

“Are we going to get any explanation for all that?” Bulma asked, tense.

“I needed to assure them of my claim,” the mermaid explained, “It should be enough to have them back off until the Queen returns.”

“Claim to what-” Bulma began, when Clark suddenly let out a groan. “-Clark!” 

“Bulma?” Clark muttered, moaning in pain as he sat up and clutched at his head, “Ow. What… what happened? Is everyone alright?” 

“For the moment at least,” Bruce assured. 

“Bruce, Bulma, how did you guys get down here?” Clark asked. 

“When you didn’t come back up, we got worried,” Bulma said, “We had some trouble with the Red Ribbon at first, but once that was dealt with we followed the radar back to the spot you were digging. We found your tank but… there wasn’t any sign of you .” She began to sniffle, and moved to wipe at her eyes, only to be frustrated as her own helmet blocked her hands, “Luckily, we have the world’s greatest detective on our side,” she said, jerking a thumb back at Bruce, “He followed that octopus guy’s trail right into goddamn Atlantis, apparently.”

“Right, Ocean Master… is he still with General Blue?” 

Lori nodded, “And now that you’re awake, we can go after him. But we’ll have to be fast. General Blue is holding him hostage.” 

“Right.” 

She turned to the other guards, and began to bark orders, and with some hesitance- and even a few glares directed at all four of them, -the guards began to start moving, swimming towards the cave where General Blue and Ocean Master had vanished into. Together, the guards pointed their own spears towards the tunnel, and began to chant as one. The not-gold that covered the spears glowed, and before their eyes, bubbles streamed forwards. At first, only a few from each spear, but quickly there was an entire maelstrom as air blasted into the tunnel. After a moment, the guards swam back, looking exhausted, but a shimmering golden lattice of light was covering the entrance of the tunnel, now full of air. 

Lori swam forwards, and stopped the bubble that she had been carrying the three surface-dwellers in just in front of the lattice, “With that, this tunnel should be full of air for at least half an hour,” she said, “But it also means that General Blue will know we’re coming. You’ll have to be quick.” 

“Got it,” Bulma said, leaping forwards out of one bubble, briefly experiencing being underwater again for a moment before she passed through the pattern of pure light on the other side, landing on her feet on the cave floor. Bruce jumped through next, followed by Clark. 

The three turned to face Lori, and she hesitated in front of the grid of light, hanging back with Turtle.

“I… I’d just be a hindrance to you in there,” she said, looking down at her tail. Frowning, she held out the trident, handle-first, to Clark, “Take this. If the spell runs out, just… think really hard about making air, and it will.” 

“You keep it,” Clark said, “You’re coming with us.”

“But-” 

“You want to save your brother, right?” Clark asked. 

She blinked in surprise, “How did you… you know Atlantean?” 

“I know every language.” 

“I’d just slow you down!” she protested, “I don’t have legs anymore, Clark!” 

“Could you carry yourself with the trident?” Clark asked, “You could move water, right?” 

She shook her head, “Magically pulling in water would break the air spell. Please, just go on without me. And… please save Octo. I know he’s a terrible person but he’s still my little brother.” 

“Save him yourself,” Bruce said as he reached for his utility belt. With a tap, and a burst of vapor, an object appeared on the bottom of the cave. 

“Is that a chair?” Lori asked, blinking in surprise. 

“It’s a top of the line Wayne Industries hover-capable mobility aid,” he corrected, “And you’re welcome to it. But we have to get a move on.”

Bulma smiled at that, “Wait, you don’t have a basic capsule house, but you do have a flying wheelchair?” 

He frowned, “Like I said, it’s a utility belt. This is practically the definition of utility. Now, come on, we have an attempted murderer to save and a Dragon Ball to find,” With that, he turned towards the cave and started moving ahead, vanishing between the hanging vines of the glow-plants.

Clark held out his hand, and Lori glanced down at Turtle, who simply urged her forwards with his flipper. Smiling, she reached out and took it. With a tug, Clark pulled her out of the water, through the field, and into his arms. She blushed slightly as he held her in a bridal carry, before he moved to set her down on the chair. 

With a little hesitation, she pressed a button, and the chair lifted up off the ground, hovering in place. Bulma grinned, and then reached over to point at a raised rubber pad on one of the arm rests, “That’s a directional control. Just nudge it the direction you want to go, and the chair will head that way.” 

Lori reached over to press her hand against it, and then jolted as the chair surged forwards. Clark hurried to catch her before it hit the wall, but Lori managed to reverse the direction before she made impact, “I think I got it.” She sat back in the chair, adjusting her tail, before resting one hand over the control, and holding the trident out with her other, “Let’s go.” She flashed a wide grin at Clark, and then urged it forwards, zipping after Bruce. Clark and Bulma shared a smile, and started running after them. 

Chapter Text

“We have a problem,” Bruce said, turning around as the others caught up to him. Behind him was a wall of rock, the cave having practically folded in on itself. 

Clark pushed up his sleeves, and marched forwards, reaching into the pile to yank away one of the largest stones, only for dust and sand to rain down from the ceiling as he pulled it free, the glow-plants, or at least the ones still undamaged by the assault on the walls that had caused the cave-in, shook rapidly and flickered like streetlamps. He quickly set the strone down, and then backed away from the slightly-shifting wall.

Abruptly, he backed off and frowned, “Bulma?” he asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, I can get in there no problem,” she began, “But what about the rest of you?” 

Lori guided the chair closer, and considered the wall, “If the room was full of water, I could clear this easily.” 

Bruce glanced at her, “Would you need a whole tunnel’s worth, or would eight hundred gallons be enough?” 

“I… yeah, I think I could do it with that much.”

Bruce pulled another capsule from his belt, before hesitating, “Suddenly summoning water into the cave from a capsule isn’t going to cause the… spell to collapse or anything, right? You said that pulling water through the entrance would break it.”

“Water carried by our own bodies is fine, magically speaking,” she said, “It's why our hair is still wet, and why our blood didn’t shatter the matrix when we passed through it.” 

Bruce threw down the capsule, and in a burst of vapor, a full water tank appeared. It was the same model as the one he had used to block the Purple Brothers’ shuriken those weeks ago, Clark realized. Immediately after it appeared, Lori lifted the trident, and the prongs began to glow, the not-gold that made up the weapon, or rather the tool, shimmering with the same golden shade. The water inside the tank soon shifted in color as well, filling the cave with its eerie glow, even outshining the plants. 

She turned the trident towards the cave, and the water seemed to soak into the collapsed rocks, spreading the golden glow across each and every one, even dampening the fallen sand and pebbles that came free from the ceiling when Clark had tried digging. 

Lori then twisted the trident, and the cave-in began to disassemble itself. The ceiling groaned and rumbled, but didn’t come apart as the wall of rocks shifted slightly, individual boulders repositioning themselves, smaller pieces moving away or fitting into new slots. Her eyes narrowed and brows lowered in concentration as bit by bit, an opening in the center of the rubble constructed itself. A single tunnel, framed on every side by more rubble, but held in place by the interlocking of the rocks around it. 

After a few moments, she relaxed by inches, although she still kept the trident pointed at the rock and glowing. She breathed hard, and sweat ran down her forehead, “I made a tunnel going through the whole way, but… I should be the last in, and the last out, to maintain it.” 

Once the others had made it through, she began to slowly guide the floating chair forwards, carefully maintaining focus on the trident even as she passed through. Once they had all made it to the other side, she let out a deep sigh of relief, and let the trident drop. The glow around the water and around the trident vanished, and she sank into the chair, hair sticking to her face. 

A few seconds later, the tunnel shifted- but didn’t quite collapse. “Good enough,” Bulma decided. They ascended through the tunnels as fast as they could run, at one point Bulma even shrinking down to ride on Bruce’s head to avoid slowing them down. They shot past an endless line of glowing plants. The group slowed briefly as they reached the first branch in the path, but Lori plowed on ahead, utterly confident, “How do you know the way to go?” Bulma asked. 

“He left us a trail,” Lori said, pointing at the black stains clinging to some of the plants as they passed by, “He left magic in his ink, to make it stick.” 

At their pace, it wasn’t long before they reached their destination, catching up to the pair they were pursuing.

Lori flew in first, brandishing the trident, while Clark and Bruce followed at a run on either side of her, ready for a fight. As they burst into the room, the four of them took in the chamber filled to the brim with countless objects from the surface world. It reminded Clark of Lori’s room, but taken to an even further extreme. There was treasure and garbage, but there were also anchors, heavy metal chains, diving suits and wooden statues. Ancient cannons and glittering pieces of crushed technology. Even, to the group’s worry, huge, intimidating steel torpedoes and sea mines, unexploded for the moment, but still threatening with their mere presence. 

“Octo, you hypocrite,” Lori accused, blinking in surprise, “You’ve been sneaking in surface-dweller stuff too!” 

Octo bristled, even as he didn’t react too much, considering General Blue holding onto his shoulder. He looked worse for wear, fear and worry coloring his face, while his tentacles looked dry and inflamed, forced to walk through the air-filled tunnels, “Th-this is hardly the time for a discussion like that, Half-breed,” he muttered, “...Thank you for coming to save me.” 

“You’re welcome, Octo, just hold tight a little longer.” 

“No one’s been saved yet,” Blue said, squeezing down on the armored shoulder of Octo hard enough to dent the metal. Octo let out a hiss of pain, and his sister flinched, her grip on the trident tightening as it crackled with power, “...I’m surprised to find you alive, boy.” Blue continued, turning his eerie helmet’s gaze on Clark, “It seems you’re made of sturdy stuff. Good. I was disappointed that it was that easy.” 

“Let him go,” Clark said, brandishing the power pole, “Now.” 

“He still has a job to do,” Blue said, “And since it’s a job you want him to do as well, you should let him get to it.” He released his hold on Octo’s shoulder, but didn’t step back, his eyes glowing a menacing dark blue. Octo shuddered under the effect of the light, feeling his body freeze up, “I am watching, octopus, so don’t try anything funny. The moment you do, I’ll… well, you’ve heard enough of my threats by now.” 

Octo let out a deep breath as the telekinesis released him, and he rushed for the pile of stuff, throwing priceless treasures and fragile objects to the side carelessly as he dug through the pile. Bruce shifted forwards, raising his Nth-Metal ‘brass’ knuckles as he moved into a boxing stance. Lori lifted the trident, still crackling with electricity, and aimed it right for Blue. Clark leaned forwards, ready to leap. Bulma, for her part, simply hunkered down, clinging tighter to the bat ear of Bruce’s mask in preparation for a lot of movement.

All of them were tense for a few moments, preparing, until finally Octo pulled free a shining orange ball. Clark felt a bit of mild disappointment when he only counted three stars inside the Dragon Ball, but was glad to see it all the same. 

Octo let out a sigh of relief, and then turned around, and saw everyone in the room watching him closely. Blue held out his hand, and Octo looked back to his sister, before lowering his eyes and giving the Dragon Ball to the man. The General wasted no time in attaching it to the bandolier on his chest, fitting the ball into the space that had belonged to the grenade he used. “And with that, your obligation to me is complete, octopus. I only have one last use for you.” 

“But-” he froze again, and found himself getting lifted into the air..

“We both have something the other wants,” General Blue said, turning his glare at Clark, who shivered as an oppressive force seemed to settle across his entire body, making him heavier and heavier, “I have the octopus and the Dragon Ball, you have both your head and the capacity to give me a challenge.” With a thought, Octo was sent crashing back through his collection, before coming to a final stop just over the sea mine. With another thought, the torpedo on display lifted up, and then positioned itself over Octo. “ Octopus, are you ready ?” 

“R-ready?”

“Good!” Blue’s eyes stopped glowing, and Octo let out a yelp as he dropped onto the mine. His tentacles reacted quickly, avoiding the contact firing pins on the large spherical bomb, while his arms shot upwards and caught the heavy metal torpedo before it could smash into his head. 

“GAH!” Octo shrieked, staring at the missile in his hands, “Are you mad !?” 

“I knew you were strong. Certainly stronger than the average human. You should be able to hold that position for a good while,” General Blue turned around, “That will be our time limit, and our assurance of fairness. I wish to fight you, Clark, in the name of Red Ribbon, in the name of all those you’ve defeated already. I’m hoping that you’ll put up a fight, and give me some semblance of a challenge. If you don’t, then all it will take is an errant thought to activate one or both of the bombs. If any of your friends intervene, the same thing will happen.” 

“And if I beat you?” 

General Blue shrugged, “Then you can do whatever you wish, obviously. I can’t use my telekinesis to mess with him if I’m forced to use all my focus fighting you. And similarly, if you beat me, I can’t exactly set off the bomb while unconscious. And, just as obviously, if I win, I will do whatever I wish.” 

He lowered his body, and curled his hands into fists. 

Clark glanced back at his friends, and then at the struggling form of the former Ocean Master, and finally settled his gaze firmly on his foe.

Chapter Text

Clark shoved off the ground with both feet and sent himself flying at Blue, spinning the Nyoibo as he went to bring it crashing down into the side of his helmet like a hammer. Blue was knocked backwards by the force of the blow, but held his ground, and replied with a heavy punch to Clark’s chest.

The teen let out a harsh breath as the air was knocked from his lungs, but snarled and caught Blue’s next punch with a free hand, before spinning himself backward and tossing Blue over his shoulder. The villain hit the ground with a thud, but quickly rolled over back to his feet and shot forwards with incredible speed, throwing out another punch, this time aiming for the teen’s face, only to wince as Clark interposed the power pole instead. Blue hissed in pain as he pulled back his fist and observed the damage; the light armoring over his knuckles had been outright cracked by the force of his blow meeting an immovable object. 

“What is that made of, by the way?” Blue asked, keeping the pain out of his voice, “If possible, the next iteration of my armor should be made out of that. ” 

“I have no clue,” Clark replied, “Why don’t you take a closer look?” He shrunk it with a thought, and reared back with the baton-sized power pole in his grip, before thrusting forwards and throwing it at near full strength. The moment the Nyoibo was about to leave Clark’s fingers, it warped in size, growing not only in length, but width, just as it had shown capable of with Java. 

Blue swore as the suddenly tree-sized missile crashed into him and drove him into the opposite wall, only to swear again as the full, impossible weight of the weapon settled across him, making his armor creak and groan under the strain. He pushed upwards, at first with his muscles, honed through years of martial arts, and then with the force of his telekinesis, honed through his helmet, but neither made a dent. Frustrated, he smashed a hand against the ground- and realized that while he couldn’t damage the staff, he could damage the ground it was sitting on. 

With a roar, he thrust his arms downwards into the rock, cracking it and giving him enough wiggle room to pull himself with his mind up and out from under the staff- which began shrinking the moment he was free of it, zipping back into Clark’s preferred length as he dashed across the cave towards Blue. Blue tried to block the oncoming strike, but Clark moved too fast, dipping under Blue’s arms and slamming him in the stomach, paying him back for his strike from earlier. 

Blue gripped his stomach painfully as he shuffled back a few steps, one eyepiece of his helmet flickering blue while the other remained dark. “Damn brat!” he growled. Clark felt the killing intent a moment before the strike came, and managed to throw himself to the side as the focused beam of telekinesis ripped across the distance between them, and pierced the wall, digging into the rock with a terrible sound before dispelling. 

Clark jumped back to his feet, and swung the extending shaft of the Nyoibo at Blue, forcing the other man to jump up as well to avoid it. As he was coming back down, however, Clark simply swung the opposite way, catching Blue in the side and launching him halfway across the room where he crashed into the collection, sending down an avalanche of junk and treasure. With another kick off the floor, Clark shot after him- 

Only to skid to a halt as crushing weight pressed down on him. 

Blue pulled himself up and out of the collection of Octo’s things, both eyes of his helmet burning bright and sending strange azure shadows across the room as he ascended from the trash. “Well, that was a fine warmup, I suppose,” Blue said, “Now, let’s go for real. ” He raced forwards, drawing a blade from his waist and slashed outwards at Clark. 

The teen hurried to get the staff between them, but he only just barely made it in time due to the force pushing down on him, slowing his every move. The surface of the blade skittered across the invincible shaft of the Nyoibo, but Blue was flexible. Instead of going for Clark’s face, he continued to put his full strength into the slash, letting it slide across the staff and drag across Clark’s fingers. The teen hissed in pain and pulled away, giving Blue the opportunity to catch Clark with a devastating kick while he was distracted. 

He bounced backwards across the ground, before being dragged back up to his feet by the force pushing at him. Clark threw his arms forwards as he saw Blue charging at him, but while that stopped the oncoming punch from doing anything, it only gave Blue a chance to cut once more at his limbs with the knife. 

With a hiss of pain, Clark dropped the Nyoibo entirely- and Blue winced as the pole fell directly onto his foot with a crunch. “Arrghg! God damn brat !” He yanked his foot back, driving it into the ground to pull it free from under the power pole, and then drove his knee forwards into Clark’s face in revenge. Clark’s head jolted backwards, only to have the force of telekinesis drag it back again in time for the next strike. General Blue wailed blow after blow on Clark, holding the teen in place with his powers in order to force him to hold in place as a living punching bag. Only when the General was breathing hard did he stop, take a step back, and admire his handiwork. 

Clark slowly lifted his head, now nursing a nasty black eye and bleeding a little from his nose, and littered with shallow scratches, the blade unable to puncture deeply, but still able to puncture. Clark breathed heavily for a moment, and Blue grinned behind his mask. But just at that moment, he caught a flicker of light in the corner of his vision. He was about to turn his head to give it a better look when, to Blue’s disbelief, Clark grinned and taunted him, “Bane hit harder.” 

“You still have so much energy left,” Blue commented, turning his full attention on the boy and raising his knife for a downwards slash, “Let’s see how much sass you have left when you lose your head!” 

Clark’s arms shot out, one stopping Blue’s knife-wielding hand in its tracks, and the other grabbed a fistful of Blue’s uniform and the bandolier across his chest. With a mighty swing, Clark ripped it from Blue’s body, damaging his precious, incredibly expensive suit, and throwing the grenades away from the fight. 

“You-!” General Blue growled, rage filling his body, “Do you know how much went into making this suit!?” In a fit of rage, his eyes flared even brighter blue, and the energy holding Clark in place began to push and pull at different parts of his body in random directions, all at once. 

The assault had ripped weaker men to literal pieces, but the teen merely grit his teeth, endured the onslaught, fought against the forces wreaking havoc on him to get to his feet and charged forwards, burying both fists in Blue’s chest in a blow that sent the man flying. Once again, General Blue crashed through Octo’s things, and laid there for a moment in a daze. That last strike had hit so much harder than the others. Glancing downwards, he saw the bloody fist marks on his bare chest. Of course. His opponent couldn’t get through his armor, so he had removed the armor. “Clever brat,” he snarled, grabbing onto a shelf to pull himself up, he felt his hand brush against something hard. 

A harpoon. 

Well, one had to follow orders.

He seized it with his powers, and then launched it with the full force of both beams at Clark, rocketing the harpoon through the air faster than a bullet- only to snarl in disbelief as Clark’s arms shot out to catch it, grabbing the shaft of the harpoon with only centimeters between the razor-sharp tip, and his eye. But despite the fact that his opponent had caught it, he didn’t let up, simply upping the pressure. Behind him, he caught a bit of movement- a flash of blue -but he couldn’t afford to look away, lest he break the beam.

Clark was pushed back until he was pressed against the wall. His arms strained to hold the weapon in place, even as more and more psychic weight gathered behind the harpoon.

Chapter Text

“Just… a little longer!” Clark growled, his voice shaking with effort as he began to sweat, his grip on the harpoon as hard as he could make it, but the weapon didn’t bend, protected by the same psychic energy that was pushing it unceasingly towards Clark’s face.

Blue smiled, and walked closer, looming over his opponent even as his eyes burned from the intensity of his unblinking focus, “You put up an admirable fight, boy,” he began, “But now-” lightning crashed into him from behind. He blinked, and broke the telekinetic connection between him and the harpoon. His body tensed and jerked, pain flaring across his nerves as the knife fell from his jittering hand. His legs jolted uncontrollably, the muscle spasm combined with his already-superhuman strength flinging him into the ceiling hard enough to crack stone. The lenses of his helmet shattered upon the impact, and left the machinery in his helmet sparking and whirring noisily next to his face. 

With a groan of pain, General Blue dropped back to the floor, and shivered even as he struggled to get up. 

“ The mermaid !” he growled, angling his head behind him at the fish-tailed girl sitting in the chair. She had the trident pointed at him still, but now he was ready for it. He bent the air itself around him just before impact, causing the lightning to follow the path he set for it rather than the path she wanted it to take. It slammed into the cave wall behind him, sending cracks into the stone, “I warned you all what would happen if you interfered!” General Blue snapped, glaring to the side at the where Octo would be waiting, suspended between two bombs- but he wasn’t there. The torpedo was lying on the ground, the sea mine was still sitting where it had been initially, but there was no sign of the merman. 

There was no sign of the bat-masked man either, nor of the other woman, but considering how small she could become, that didn’t mean much. 

He quickly diverted another lightning bolt to the side, sending it crashing into the roof. “You got lucky once ! But that won’t last when I have-” instinct told him to dodge, and he followed it, stepping aside as Clark flung himself past, Nyoibo in hand. The teen put the pole out in front of him, catching the ground before he landed, and extending it in the same moment to send himself rocketing right back the way he came. Blue dropped into a backflip to avoid the strike, “Let me finish!” 

“I think you’ve talked enough,” Clark said, before throwing the harpoon Blue had been threatening him with back at the General. 

Blue ducked out of the way of it, and then cried out as Clark swept his feet out from under him with the power pole, making him crash into the dirt. Before he could so much as try to get up a second bolt of lightning collided with him head-on, flinging him away. His heart was sent racing, and he shuddered as his body shook like a leaf. 

General Blue hadn’t quite regained control of himself when he felt the blunt end of the power pole press under his chin.

 “Surrender,” Clark ordered. 

“I… we still have something the other wants,” General Blue said, “ I still have the Dragon Ball, surrounded by grenades. With a thought, I can activate them, and blow all of us to bits! Even if you survive, will the ball?” 

Clark grinned. 

Blue frowned, and then slowly reached for his bare chest. His bare, injured, chest. Bare and injured, because it wasn’t armored. Because Clark had thrown away his bandolier hard enough to rip off part of the chestplate underneath. 

“The man took the ball as soon as Clark got it away from you,” Lori taunted, urging her wheelchair closer to Blue, “The woman shrunk down and disarmed the torpedo and the mine from the inside. Clark’s friends, and my brother, are all well on their way out of the tunnels by now.” She narrowed her eyes, “All that’s left is capturing you, for your crimes against the land and the sea.” 

“I… failed?” General Blue asked, voice shaking. 

“You don’t have to worry about the Red Ribbon coming after you if you do surrender,” Clark said, wiping a bit of blood from his face even as he smiled, “They’ll have bigger things to worry about than killing their own agents, I promise.” 

“I received two orders,” Blue said slowly, his voice still shaking from the shocks, “That I would obtain the Dragon Ball, and that I was to kill you.” 

Clark tensed, and slowly began backing up closer to Lori. She met him halfway, urging the hover-chair forwards and raising the trident in a clear threat. 

“I couldn’t get the Dragon Ball, which means I’m dead regardless of what happens next,” Blue muttered, “But I can, at the very least, still kill you !” His eyes flashed blue, and while his power was no longer magnified by the eyes of his helmet, that just meant he couldn’t focus them into beams. He launched the same assault he tried to do on Clark earlier; tearing him apart with telekinesis in every direction at once. But this time he instead focused on the mine. 

Disarmed it might be, but he doubted the shrinking woman had gotten rid of the explosives inside. 

The outer shell of the bomb warped and twisted, and an instant later, the explosive materials within were as well and violently erupted. The explosion hit the three of them with a wave of sheer physical force; heat and pressure and sound sending them all crashing towards the wall. Worse, that wave of power hit the already-damaged ceiling, walls, and floor of the cave. 

The various cracks and craters and lightning strikes, damage carved by the brief but intense fight, all began to expand from the force of it. Rock shattered and collapsed all around them in every direction, the room practically imploding on itself. Clark was the first to get back up in the chaos, and immediately swung himself protectively over Lori’s fallen form, the hover chair left half-mangled by the explosion. As rock crashed down from above on them, he did his best to cover as much of her as he could. The stone dug into him, sharp corners and sheer impressive weight driving down on his body, but he tried to remain resolute even as they were buried. He noticed, with some sadness, that General Blue was engulfed in the stone as well. 

Finally, the world seemed to settle all around them, and Clark breathed a sigh of relief, despite the massive weight he was supporting with his body. 

“Y-you okay, Lori?” he managed.

“I… think so. But…” she tried to move, only to hiss with pain as the rock covering her fin- which stretched past what tiny amount of area Clark could protect -shifted, “Ow! I… I think we’re trapped.” 

“...Do you still have the trident?” 

She nodded, “It’s half-buried, but I still have a hold on it.” 

Clark nodded to himself, and then slowly took a deep breath, let it out, and took another one, “Okay, I’m going to try something, but… be ready. Alright?” 

“Alright,” she managed. 

With that, he shifted his grip, reaching upwards and pressing against the stone with his hands. He shifted his legs forwards, and Lori winced as even more rock seemed to settle against her tail, but refused to distract Clark, seeing the sheer concentration on his face as his limbs shook. 

He was in a kind of squatting position, directly over her torso, but inch by inch he straightened his legs. He lifted his body, and the stones overhead, with a groan of rock rubbing against rock. As the rubble overhead shifted and broke, dust and pebbles rained down on them both. “Three,” he began, his teeth grit so tightly together they were almost grinding, “Two” he stretched his arms, lifting the rock even higher over them both, “One…!” He was standing fully straight, more than a ton of stone laying heavily down on him, “Zero!” 

Light erupted from his palms, brilliantly green at first, before shading blue as the massive weight vanished from above him. The ki poured from his outstretched hands and blasted into the ceiling above, chewing and burning through rock and drilling upwards towards the surface. The rubble was forced away by the energy as it carried on. 

Only when Clark felt light-headed did he cut off the beam of ki, collapsing on top of Lori in a heap. She put one arm around his shoulders, and then growled as she wrenched her half-buried arm free from the stone at their side and lifted the trident towards the ceiling. Above them, the lingering waves of Clark’s ki were slowly fading away, blue energy breaking into motes of light and twinkling away. But without the geyser of life energy propelling everything upwards, there was now nothing keeping anything from falling down the tunnel Clark had carved. 

The roar of water filled her ears, and Lori narrowed her eyes, preparing herself mentally for the catch she would have to make. 

Tons and tons of ocean water descended down the drain Clark had created with all the force of a meteor, grinding at the sides of the tunnel and stretching them larger as it went. It soaked the spaces between the destroyed and crumbled rock, causing the rubble to swell. It dropped like a hammer directly onto the pair- only to stop inches above them, the water glowing gold in the light of the Ocean Master’s trident. Lori’s will strained against the sheer weight of the water pressing down on them, but as the seconds passed, it became easier. The ocean settled around them, filling every nook and cranny of the rubble around them and pushing harmlessly against the spell protecting the tunnel behind them, but no longer crashing down. They had survived the crash itself, and now the ocean was simply on top of them. Her shield managed to hold, maintaining their little bubble of air, and they were both alive. 

Slowly, she spread her control through the water around them, just like she had with the collapsed cave earlier, she began to rearrange pieces of rubble, and with some effort pulled her fin free from the rock that had landed on it. The action made her bite her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain, but she knew she would be fine after a visit to the healers. Atlantis had the finest- and perhaps only -biomancers in the world. They’d be able to make her right as rain, as long as she survived to make it to them. 

Bit by bit, she pulled apart the collapsed cave with her control over the water, clearing a small passageway full of air all the way up to the surviving bit of tunnel they had passed through to get here. She used the trident to pull herself and Clark towards the entranceway, and after a few moments Clark regained consciousness and sped up the process, supporting her weight despite his own injuries. 

As they passed through the matrix of light that kept the air inside the tunnels, the two of them let out twin sighs of relief, finally safe. 

Lori relaxed, letting go of her hold on the water. The passageway she had carved behind them collapsed at the same moment the trident stopped glowing.

“Come on,” she said, “It’s finally over.” 

Clark supported her, and they made their way back the way they came. 

Far, far above them, on the other side of the tunnel that Clark had carved to the surface of the undersea plateau, a figure ascended through the water, propelled by eerie blue light, bubbles streaming from his helmet’s built-in artificial gills. As he crested over the waves and into the air, he lifted a shaking, battered hand to the side of the helmet and activated the radio. “This…” he managed, his voice raspy, “Is General Blue. I require pickup. Manta-Sub, respond.” 

He waited a few seconds, “Manta-Sub, respond.” 

Nothing. He changed the frequency.

“...Blue Division island base, respond. This is General Blue. Respond.” 

Nothing. 

With growing despair, he changed it again. “Cyborg Six; Red Torpedo, this is General Blue. I require pickup.” 

“G-got me own problems ri’ now Gen’ral!” the voice of the robot called out, along with the sounds of fighting and blasts, before abruptly going silent.

General Blue was on his own. Stranded in the middle of the Atlantic.

…

Or was he? 

The brat and his friends would have to have a vehicle of their own, wouldn’t they? 

He slipped back into the water, and descended once more for the undersea plateau. As he came to a stop on top of it, he swam along the edge of the undersea rock formation, and looked out across at the pirate ship that had crashed so far below. 

And, sure enough, there was a submarine stationed relatively close. One that… kind of looked like a stretched-out bat. He descended quickly, and hid in the crow’s nest of the ship, watching carefully and breathing slowly to minimize the number of bubbles that might give away his position. Keeping an eye on the submarine, he settled in to wait.

Chapter Text

“Ocean Master, are you sure about this?” the doctor asked, hesitant as he leaned into the air bubble surrounding the medical table Clark was lying on.

“You doubt your Prince?” Octo asked, aghast, going for the full affronted-nobility voice, “This is very much a one-time thing. I allow it using my authority as Ocean Master. An exception to the rules, in honor of saving my half-sister’s life. ”

“And your own life as well?” the doctor added, as if he forgot. 

“...That too, yes. If you’re this worried, you may always ask the Queen her opinion when she returns. But in the meantime, I am in command, and I order that you heal these surface-dwelling scum.” He pounded the butt of the trident against the ground once to punctuate the order, and the merman doctor rushed to obey. 

Lori, of course, had been healed immediately. Her hand and her tail seemingly good as new, the only evidence of the cave-in being a handful of faded scars. 

Clark, on the other hand, seemed to take a bit longer. The doctor frowned as the light spun in circles and symbols around his hands as he looked over Clark, tsking to himself, “No protective wards at all ? Burning life energy directly? Surface dwellers really are barbarians.” Bulma and Bruce found themselves watching from the other side of the room, observing the process greedily with wide eyes and trying to learn as much as they could without being too obvious about it. 

“We don’t have much magic up on the surface. A lot of people don’t believe it exists,” Clark said, “Maybe you could come up out of the ocean and teach us?” He watched as the scratches made by Blue’s knife vanished from his fingers, leaving only the faintest line to show where it had been. Already, the lingering pain in his lungs from Metamorpho’s gas and the pressure in his chest from Octo’s lightning and the aches, cuts, and bruises from the fight against Blue and the cave-in that followed were vanishing. It left him feeling like he hadn’t been in a fight at all in months . He felt renewed, energized, and more hardy than before. 

“Absolutely not,” Octo growled, “Such a thing would be treason against Atlantis. Be content with this one taste of healing magic, child. If you want it so badly, figure it out for yourself.” 

“Octo!” Lori snapped. 

“If Atlantean magic were taught on the surface, it would lead the Demon King right to us, ” he snarled. 

“The Demon King is dead!” she protested. 

“You know how little that means to a being such as he!” He snapped back. 

“...Who?” Bulma asked, frowning. 

Octo narrowed his eyes at her, “The once-and-future secret ruler of this world. The Lord of Chaos, the Deadly Enemy of Man. The Demon King, Piccolo. You said that magic has only recently been rediscovered on the surface? He is the reason why it had to be re-discovered. He systematically eliminated all who could possibly oppose him; all those who could use life energy, all human magicians, all offworlders and minor earthly gods. Even the dreaded Poseidon and his accursed pantheon fled to the Other World in the face of the Demon King. And all the while he turned surface nation against nation from the shadows, and even urging the surface-worlders to turn against their own magic-users and wielders of life energy, urging for the creations of witch hunts and inquisitions,” He sighed, “Atlantis was spared his wrath by the nature of Poseidon’s curse upon us. We were hidden under the waves, our city sealed into the Earth, and he didn’t think to search for us, assuming that Poseidon had succeeded in killing us centuries and centuries before.”

Bruce nodded slowly, “Master Son told us something similar, that about three hundred years ago, something wiped out most ki-using martial artists. He implied that his teacher, the Heavenly Old Master the Turtle Hermit, was a survivor of it, but that Son Gohan didn’t know much else about it, that the Hermit didn’t want to share the story.” 

“The Hermit was more than a survivor,” Turtle said, gathering the attention of everyone in the room, “He was one of the martial artists who confronted the Demon King and pushed him back, sealing away his offspring within statues and forcing the Demon King into the one place where he could be killed by Shazon.” 

Octo narrowed his eyes, “Supposedly killed.” 

Turtle nodded, “Supposedly killed,” he agreed, “You never know with people that powerful.”

“So you’ll keep life-saving powers like this secret out of fear of a person who’s been dead for three hundred years?” Bruce asked, growing angry. 

“You’re welcome to figure out a method for yourself ,” Octo said, “But our isolation policy is there for a reason,” At that, he shifted his glare to his sister, “And us letting them go today is going to be the only exception to that rule, is that understood?” 

“It’s stupid,” she growled. “And it can’t last forever Octo! The people on the surface will notice eventually. Radars didn’t exist until a hundred years ago, and they’re getting more advanced all the time. Those underwater cameras you kept destroying will just keep getting faster and smaller, until there’s no way to avoid them all. Our secret entrance is protected by a spear-launcher, for god’s sake! The surface rediscovered magic, and now that they have, they’re going to start looking for older forms of it more seriously until they find something that points our way… it’s inevitable.” 

“It is a tradition maintained for centuries to protect our way of life, and we’re not going to break that policy just because you feel bad about a few divers, or just because you miss your stupid lighthouse,” Octo said, rolling his eyes.

“ You… ” Lori growled, her hands curling into fists. Clark held out a hand, resting it on her shoulder, and she looked back at him in surprise, “What?” 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.” He said. 

She blinked in surprise, “What?” 

“ What .” Octo asked as well, unamused. 

“You can’t make her stay,” Clark said to him, “You can’t keep her from seeing her Dad, either,” he turned back to face her, and smiled, “We can bring you with us. Right guys?” He looked to Bulma and Bruce for support. 

“Well, sure,” Bulma said, turning to the mermaid, “You saved Clark’s life twice, you saved our bacon in the tunnel, you helped us find the Dragon Ball… honestly, we could use all the help we can get. We’d love to have you.” 

Bruce nodded his assent as well.

Octo, however, disagreed, “I most certainly can make her stay. She is a citizen of Atlantis, subject to our laws, and more importantly, subject to its authority. I am the Ocean Master, the one who carries out that authority, and I- ” 

Lori suddenly smiled as realization struck, “But you’re not.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Right now, you’re just the prince,” she said, her voice getting more excited, “The Captain of the Guard, after you got kidnapped, he recognized my claim to the trident in your absence. Right now, I’m the Ocean Master.” 

“I am no longer absent,” Octo said, dangerously unamused. 

Lori suddenly surged forwards through the water and whipped her tail around and slapped him across the face with her fin. He was flung backwards, bouncing off the wall, and she shot into him again, crashing into his chest with both fists extended outwards in front of her. He was left stunned, and she yanked the trident out of his hands. 

“But I’m still in charge!” she declared, lifting it over her head and turning towards the doctor, the only conscious merman left in the room,  “And I say that- that- the Red Ribbon Army has declared war on Atlantis. As the guardian of its people, even only temporarily, I am honor-bound to return to the surface and fight back.” A smile spread across her face, “Bye Turtle!” 

“Have fun, Lori, say hi to Tom for me!” Turtle said pleasantly. 

“Come on, we have to go!” She grabbed Clark with her free hand, and with a twist of the trident, the air bubble shifted to follow her, keeping itself clinging to his upper body even as she tugged him along, “Come on!” 

“Princess! Wait!” the doctor shouted. 

Bruce and Bulma shared an alarmed look between themselves, before hurrying to follow Lori as she swam in a hurry from the healing chamber. As they went, a number of other merfolk they passed by turned to watch them, but Lori simply kept on swimming ahead, speeding through the upside-down city and down towards the gardens below. She skimmed over the coral and plants, and then raced through the tunnel, only slowing down then to let Bulma and Bruce rely on her presence to keep the traps deactivated. 

As they pushed their way out of the tunnel, and then out from the long-sunken pirate ship, Clark only had a brief time to marvel at it, and grimace at the corpses of the Red Ribbon soldiers who had been dealt with by Octo. 

The Batmobile was waiting for them. 

“What is that?” Clark asked, wide-eyed. 

“The Better-” 

“Ahem,” Bulma said. 

“...The Batmobile.” 

“What happened to the limo?” 

“The Red Ribbon,” Bruce said, “Clark, you should go first.” He gestured towards the moonpool, and Clark grinned as he forced his way out of the air bubble Lori was maintaining, and swam the rest of the way up into it. He poked his head through the top, and Alfred turned back and let out a sigh of relief. 

“Master Clark, It’s good to see you. I trust you found what you were looking for?” 

“One Dragon Ball. And a friend!” 

“Oh?” 

He climbed the rest of the way through, and then turned around and stuck his hand into the water. With ease, he pulled Lori up and out, trident and all, and then helped her into one of the seats. 

Alfred stared at her for a moment, and then shrugged, “Well, I’ve heard that mermaids are good luck. Hello, Miss.” 

“Oh, hello, mister…?” 

“Pennyworth, Ma’am. And your own name?” 

“I am Princess Lori Le Marius of Atlantis- no. No.” She took a deep breath, and then let it out, “Right now, I’m just Ariel Curry of Maine. And I’d like to join in the fight against the Red Ribbon, if you’ll have me.” 

“It seems that it’s more the merrier, Miss Curry” Alfred said, giving her a nod.

Bruce and Bulma climbed in shortly afterwards, and Bulma gleefully added the three-star Dragon Ball to the bag containing the others. Bruce shed his waterlogged cape, and sat himself down in the captain’s seat, taking hold of the controls and urging the ship upwards. As they passed the mast of the sunken ship, however, none of them noticed the figure gently push away from the barnacle-encrusted crow’s nest, and follow them through the water. 

The black-gloved hand of General Blue clung to the bottom of the Batmobile with a magnetic click, and he allowed himself to be pulled along with them.

Chapter Text

Yamcha swore as he reached out towards the back of the massive, terrifying machine’s head, and fell just short as it stepped away and blasted him with reactionary spray water for his effort. He went flying backwards, and crashed into the trees with a pained groan. 

Vic was there a second after, throwing himself in front of Yamcha and taking the second, far more pressurized blast from Torpedo’s arm cannon with his chest, “Eel!” He called out for help, even as he struggled against the water to raise his own weapons. With each second, the nozzle on the arm cannon narrowed, increasing the pressure and intensity of the stream. Vic’s armor could withstand it for the first few seconds, but after that, it reached a point where the water wasn’t being sprayed , so much as it was cutting. 

Waterjet cutters could slice diamonds, with enough pressure. Torpedo’s arm cannon wasn’t that intense, but that fact was very present in the minds of the three heroes as they fought against him.

“Coming!” Eel shouted, peeling himself off of the capsule house the most recent wave had outright thrown him against. With a grunt of effort, he regained his shape, and warped his legs into springs, quickly closing the distance between them. 

He transformed again, twisting his body into an umbrella with a long rod and hook. The hook, made up of Eel’s feet, buried itself deep in the ground, bracing himself as he forced the umbrella his arms had become in between the enemy cyborg and his friends. Even as the intensity ramped up, Eel focused on keeping his arms shifting, reinforcing the impact point with more and more mass the longer the blast lasted. 

Taking the moment of reprieve, Yamcha got to his feet and shook himself, “If only I were a bit faster…” he muttered, his body shaking. The impossible speeds that Clark and Krillin had put on display at the tournament were still fresh in his mind. Either one of them could have reached that button a dozen times by now.

Their initial plan for Torpedo hadn’t quite worked out. 

Eel had turned himself into a baseball. Yamcha had thrown while Vic grabbed Torpedo’s attention. Eel expanded outwards, completely engulfed Red Torpedo… and was promptly shredded to bits by the high-pressure water cannon.