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Dragon Ball X #2
[ Some Time In The Distant Past... ]
"Sorry, F r i e z a, but I'm cancelling your date with Goku." A young Trunks, the saiyan son of Vegeta back in the days of his adolescence, informs with snide arrogance lacing his words. Looking upon the cruel emperor who stands on the opposite end of the many corpses that litter the ground between them. The bodies being a product of the young man defending himself from the daring underlings of the beings before him.
"Oh, so you know that worthless saiyan?" Frieza questions with contempt.
"By reputation. But, I'll be meeting him soon enough. Any time now, Goku will be returning home... and only one of us is going to be here waiting for him. Get it?"
"Oh, I couldn't agree more, Earthling." A third voice chimes in. It was not King Cold, but instead his 2nd son - the individual presently treading down the ramp of his father's ship to join them. All eyes suddenly shift toward him as he makes his way over at his own leisure.
"Your little peformance up to now has been somewhat amusing, but my patience for your insolence wears thin." He adds with his sights locked onto Trunks. Then, his attention shifts toward his younger bother and his towering father.
"How much longer do you intend to humor this meatbag of a punk?"
"Yes, I've been wondering the same, truth be told. I don't have all day to indulge in insignificant worms." King Cold concurs.
"Patience, father and brother. This is one holds no importance, but he certainly has helped kill some time. My only agenda is to meet that insufferable saiyan here when he returns and exact my revenge. One little boy will not derail my goal."
"Who are you? I had no idea Frieza had a brother... There was never any mentions of someone like you." Trunks muses outloud as he studies the second tallest of the three. His words draw the eyes of the man in question once again.
"I am Cooler, the brother of Frieza and the first son of King Cold. We're here to make the saiyan from Namek pay for what he has done. I am warning you now... Make yourself scarce immediately before I rid you from this plane of existing myself." Cooler threatens coldly and sincerity burning in his piercing red eyes
"Hm?" Suddenly, something makes him arch a brow curiously. Before Trunks could get out another retort, another voice and presence joins the fray. One eerily familiar to the Saiyan from the grim future.
"Funny. I'm here to give you that same proposition. You weren't invited to this little party." #17 chimes in with a remark of his own as he comest to stand at the saiyan's flank. His lips wearing his usual subtle smug grin. Though, Trunks doesn't react too fondly toward the android's sudden intervention or general presence.
"S-seven.... Seventeen!!?" Trunks exclaims with a mixture of shock and malice, turning to face one of the two murderous machines that haunt his timeline.
"You monster! How!? You're not supposed to be here!" He shouts with uncontained anger and clenching fists. Teeth gritting as he glares daggers at the android. The latter merely, and oh-so-casually so, shifts his monotone blue eyes toward him calmly.
"Technically, you shouldn't be either." Is his calm counter.
"I'm here to-- No, that's none of your business! I won't let you do what you want here, too! I refuse to allow a repeat of what you and your sister have done to this planet! I WILL change the future!"
"And I'm not here to stop you from whatever objective you have. I'm only here to make sure you get back home in one piece, so don't get so worked up."
"WHAT!!? Do you think this some kind of game!? I won't fall for whatever trick you have up your sleeve, Android!"
"I haven't the slightest clue what you two brats are bickering about, but this isn't a theater spectacle. BOTH of you will perish this day..." Cooler announces with annoyance plain as day nehind his tone. Through his will, the villain begins building his power through a presentation of a transparent purple aura enveloping his entire body. The intensity of it grows by the second and begins sending tremors through the ground beneath his feet. And as if passing a threshold, his aura suddenly bursts as it expands in size and promptly shifts to a dark and sinister coloration of black and amethyst. In addition, his eyes illuminate with an eerie glow that pierces through his ki-aura with a deathly gaze.
"W-what...? Brother? Is that really your power? When did you... when did you obtain THAT much power!?" Frieza questions in disbelief. Trunks could certainly feel it, too. It was enough to stir a sense of uncertainty at his core.
"So, truce for now?" #17 asks calmly, still smiling all the while. The saiyan jerks his head around to glare the android in the eyes again. His brows twitching with rising irritation and a realization. It was as if he was far too angry to do anything but growl. Then, similar to Cooler, Trunks begins building his own ki. His hair begins flowing upward as his power level builds, growing to a point his aura becomes visible by represenation of a white transparent aura - that suddenly shsifts to gold as he roars at the top of his lungs at #17 akin to a lion. A violent burst in accumalating energy results in his hair changing to blonde and his eyes to sky blue.
"Only until we're done with them. Afterwarrds, you're THROUGH!" The saiyan reluctantly obliges and turns toward the mutual enemies in front of them, taking up a fighting stance. Meanwhile, #17's scouter gives him the best assessment of strength it could between the two. They were more less similar according to the device.
"You're one, too!? Damn it....DAMN IT!!! You have eyes just like that miserable pest! Bastard... Bastards, the Lot Of Youuuuuuu!!" Frieza exclaims, driven into a state of desperation by the truama of his fight with Goku. His power begins swelling, quickly adopting a sinister shade similar to Cooler's. His power level was also roughly the same under the scouter's examination.
"I won't leave a single one of you saiyans alive! Do you hear me, child!? This is your end!" Frieza shouts out.
"We'll see about that!" Trunks counters as he reaches to idly grip the handle of the sword on his back. His momentary ally takes up a stance of his own with spread feet and bent knees.
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