Prologue

Rose had fond memories of Sherman's Shoes. The quaint little shoe shop with its rose-red bricks had sat on the corner of East Street and Hamilton for as long as she could remember.

She couldn't pinpoint the precise moment her innocent obsession began but she recalled being no taller than her mother's knee when a pair of red sandals had sparked her infatuation from their seat behind the window.

The store owner had a warm smile that had pulled at his middle aged features whenever he witnessed her childish enthusiasm.

He reminded her of his son, Junior, he'd tell her endlessly.

And when her mother finally relented to her endless begging and pouting… sheer unadulterated joy.

She'd worn those sandals with pride that summer.

Rose had been too young to notice the uniqueness of Sherman's Shoes. But as she grew older she noted the picturesque store was one of the few in North City that remained entirely untouched by the jaws of big business and she resolved to sustain it as she grew older.

High school and college were a blur of over-achievement and activism. Though her taste in shoes grew more sophisticated, her love for the place, the owner and his son endured. They'd remained at the forefront of her mind as she raged against big business and social injustices.

Junior in particular had captured her eye and she remembered with great fondness the trysts they'd delicately woven whenever she returned to North City and the quaint little store.

They wouldn't last forever, he'd move on but so would she.

Travel and teaching would capture heart. Over the next few years she'd see nearly all four corners of the globe and teach a thousand different faces in countless languages before she'd lay down roots back in North City.

She'd return to the store again to find Junior married with a young son and she'd smile sincerely and wish the family well.

She'd started a promising career at a local school and dedicated herself to touching the hearts and minds of everyone who stepped into her class room. She'd even order the perfect pair of shoes from her favourite store to commemorate her first day.

Sherman's Shoes was rubble now, along with half the city. Junior, his father and his family were all dead.

It was 10am on a Tuesday but Rose didn't preside over a sea of smiling faces. She sat in a pod in a relief camp somewhere outside the city, clutching a cup of strong coffee as if her life and sanity dependent on it. It was one of many camps erected by Capsule Corporation to house the thousands displaced in the attack.

On the opposite side of the miniscule table sat Bulma Briefs.

The one and only president of Capsule Corporation, multi-billionaire, genius, philanthropist and feminist icon. One of the few "good guys" of big business and corporate transnationalism. The great and untouchable.

Rose was far too emotionally exhausted to generate the excitement this woman so richly deserved, though Ms Briefs didn't seem the least bit perturbed. If anything she looked subdued, drained even, though still radiating with sheer presence.

She sat with her coffee clasped in both hands, legs crossed neatly, and finely attired in an expertly tailored dark pant suit. Her heels were polished to a shine and her pea coat was draped exquisitely over her chair. The picture of professionalism.

Beyond the walls of the pod she could just about make out the murmured chatter of a fleet of uncharacteristically sombre news media, no doubt desperate for a quote from the philanthropic heiress in the wake of the devastation.

On the few occasions Rose looked up from her coffee, she could see the sleep-depravation in the heiress' eyes. Though she couldn't muster any enthusiasm, there was at least one thing she could offer.

"Thank you, Ms Briefs, for… uh… all this."

Her eyes gestured wearily to the pod's spartan interior. There was a small table, two chairs and cot, far more than what remained of her modest apartment.

She offered a tired smile, which Ms Briefs returned warmly.

"It's no problem at all. It's important for all of us to come together at a time like this. And please, Rose, call me Bulma."

"I'm sorry, Ms… Bulma." She smiled. "But there's sticking together and then there's… well, the aid, the reconstruction, the…" she paused "…the burials."

The chilling spectre of death lingered in the air.

There had been few families lucky enough to survive the destruction. Most others were mourning loved ones. The most unlucky among them had lost everyone.

The camps had been host to a number of suicides.

"You've done so much."

"My father always told me that having wealth is pointless unless you do something useful with it. What could be more useful than this?"

"I… thank you, again."

"There's nothing to thank me for, it's the least I could do."

They both sipped their coffee. Whatever respect she had for Bulma Briefs had increased tenfold.

"I have to say, I'm surprised you decided to tour these camps."

"Well, I did pay for them."

Their hollow laughs echoed softly on the walls of the pod.

"I know, it's just… with the rumours going around the camps…"

"I don't pay attention to rumours." She responded, perhaps more curtly than she intended and she winced as Rose quailed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I thought the rumours were stupid anyway, especially after everything you've done for us." Bulma smiled. "So many lives have been lost."

"Did you lose anyone close to you?"

"I…"

"That was insensitive of me. Forgive me. I'm not very good at this kind of thing…"

"You're better than you think." Rose offered with a soft smile.

Ms Briefs reciprocated with a feint embarrassed blush on her pale cheeks.

"Truth be told I'm more comfortable in a lab than anywhere else. I just wanted to see for myself that the citizens of North City were being treated well. I can't imagine what you people have gone through."

Rose paused to sip her coffee.

"My mother…" she began. "She lived just outside of town… I haven't spoken to her since the attack."

"I'm sure she's fine. We can't lose hope."

"She raised me single-handedly, put me through school… She's a tough woman."

"She sounds like it." Ms Briefs offered, optimistically.

"Then there's the kids."

"You have children?"

"Oh… no. I was a teacher." she sighed. "West Bank Elementary…"

Ms Briefs had heard of it, at least Rose assumed she had if the sympathetic wince was anything to go by. News was relatively slow in the camps but the school had made national news. How could it not?

A brief silence hung in the air and Bulma sat attentively.

"Honestly, it was… surreal. It was just after lunch… just another day. We ran out of chalk so I went to get more… They were good kids, you know? You always get one or two troublemakers who just need some extra attention but… I trusted them."

Rose paused, wiping the tears she hadn't realised were streaming down her face.

"Then it just… happened. The explosion… twenty-six kids… dead. Plus faculty… my friends… At night I can still hear the alarms and the screams… see the smoke…" she sniffed, staring into her coffee. "The classroom was gone when I got back… just rubble and flaming desks… and… little bodies… the blood…"

"It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe if I'd have been there… What kind of teacher can't protect her students?"

"It wasn't your fault." Bulma stated, more firmly. "These things that attacked us, they're like nothing we've ever faced before. There's nothing you could have done."

They locked eyes briefly before Rose nodded, once again staring down at her coffee.

The meeting had continued for some time, the sheer… otherworldliness of conversing with a woman she admired helped assuage the anguish of recent events, at least for a little while.

Then flash of the heiress' phone had interrupted their meeting.

Bulma had apologised profusely for it, though she'd hastily taken her leave all the same. Rose had watched from the small window as the crowds gradually dispersed as the day went on. By evening, the camp's residents had once again been left alone to cope with their anguish.

Sleep would yet again be illusive for her.

"It wasn't your fault."

She'd heard those same words so often that they'd become like white noise. Whether they came from Ms Briefs or other survivors, they did little to assuage the guilt or… piece together the corpses of her annihilated students. Still…

"These things that attacked us, they're like nothing we've ever faced before."

Rose was not one to keep her ears closed to the news. The activist inside her would not allow it.

The world had been awakened to the presence of the golden-haired fighters six years ago. Hundreds had perished in the android incident and the scale of the destruction had made international news, though most notable had been the heroics many had witnessed first-hand.

It was funny now to think of how… insignificant that all seemed now.

Rose hadn't seen most of the attacks or the fighting. In her mind, virgin to warfare and clouded with shock, all she had witnessed was chaos at every turn, though she was sure those same golden fighters had been the deciding factor in their triumph. But the scale of loss ensured the absence of any of the hope and wonder the warriors had previously inspired. Controversy and uncertainty were all that remained.

It was this heavy weight of uncertainty, and not the explosions that had rocked her classroom, that kept her up tonight.

As she stared at the ceiling above her cot, Rose had a sinking feeling that there was more to come.

…

The Oceanfront detainment facility was a technical marvel. It was a subterranean mass of dense alloy meticulously arranged into complex corridors spanning multiple stories and spiraling deep into mountain rock.

It was situated on an island hundreds of miles from civilisation, the coordinates of which were classified, the activities within its walls even more so, but Isla Rami, Director of Section 33, was a privileged man.

He'd been impressed with the security detail on his initial tour, though he'd found the waiting room's clinically white interior to be something of an eyesore. Rami had always had a penchant for modern décor, so he'd requested a change. That had been six months ago. He'd been disappointed walk into the waiting room this morning to find a clinically white interior.

He'd calmly expressed his opinion, a disconcerting display for the administrators and security personnel, though he'd relented when he'd been fearfully informed that design selection was out of their hands and, thus, above his significant pay grade.

The latter had remained unsaid, though Director Rami was neither foolish nor unreasonable. Still, he could not tend to his pre-meeting affairs in a lobby that felt like an emergency room. To that end, he'd been provided with a temporary office on the east wing. It was among the few situated above ground with a sparse interior and simple décor the accentuated its island view.

The impenetrable panel window overlooked miles of lush forest, vast white beach, crystal clear waters, and clear blue sky. Rami absorbed the serenity with a deep, calming breath that shifted his broad shoulders and rolled his powerful frame. Mountains and plateaus with green-tipped peaks skirted the horizon to his right, while a simple jet-pad hangar sat patiently below the panel window.

He regarded the latter with severe inquisition.

Behind him sat a brown manila envelope on the immaculately polished office desk, its secrets spilled for privileged eyes to see. And to his left stood his assistant, Zuli, immaculately presented as always, with blue eyes, feathered, jet black hair and clutching her boss' cup of heavily milked and sweetened hazelnut coffee.

Director Rami retrieved his drink and took a long exquisite sip.

"This roast is delicious." His voice was deep, raspy and carried a light island accent. "Do you know where it's from?" He turned his steely eyes to his assistant.

She looked notably less enthused, being used to his numerous eccentricities, though she stood to attention none the less.

"The coffee? If I were to guess I'd say the cafeteria, Sir."

"I see you're a comedian now."

"Just trying to lift your spirits. You know the world was burning just a week ago."

"I hadn't heard. And your tits lift my spirits just fine."

"You have such a way with words."

"And you have an interesting interpretation of your job description."

"I like to go above and beyond."

"Indeed."

Director Rami sipped his coffee and turned his penetrating grey gaze back to the hangar.

"Where's Ms Briefs?"

"In transit. ETA 12:15 according to her pilot."

"We're scheduled for 12:25… that won't leave us much time for pleasantries and chit chat."

"I don't think there'd be any 'pleasantries' regardless, considering the circumstances."

"Shame. In my country, it's customary to make pleasant chit chat before we attend to business. This job can be so stressful."

"My heart bleeds for you, Sir."

He paused thoughtfully.

"How many casualties?"

"Thirty-seven million at the last official count and even more wounded. They're still pulling bodies from the wreckage in Central City and Jewel Coast was wiped completely off the map."

Rami absorbed the view once again. As his refined copper features and dark hair glowed in the bright sunlight, he was suddenly very aware of the sharp contrast between this paradise and the devastation he'd seen first-hand.

"I knew something like this would happen eventually."

"We won, though."

Bless his protégé and her naivety.

"Let me rephrase. I've been waiting for something like this to happen. And no, we didn't win."

"Forgive me, Sir, but we managed to repel the invasion. The world was saved."

"By Son and his merry band of freaks. Meanwhile, we were massacred. Military casualties alone were ten million and if it wasn't for our accord with Ms Briefs we'd never have gotten custody of our guest. Hell, if she had not donated her resources so generously to our projects, we wouldn't even have this facility."

Rami's stance hardened as he observed the view once again, this time, however, it was not in admiration. Zuli's meteoric rise, indeed her career, had been predicated on an innate ability to read her colleagues and superiors. In the two years she'd spent under the tutelage of the eccentric Director, she'd developed a precise gauge of his moods. It was one of a number of traits that made her excellent at her job.

"I heard that was a battle in of itself." She commented.

"Not really. Ms Briefs was not so foolish as to deny the many benefits of this facility. Obtaining our guest, on the other hand, was more challenging. Perhaps I'll regale you with the story some time."

"I plan on holding you too that." She offered with a smirk. "And I'll have the doctor push the interrogation back to make room for… 'pleasantries'."

"Don't bother." Rami countered with a wave of his large hand. "Ms Briefs isn't the friendliest woman when it comes to the government. She wouldn't bond with us on the best of days, much less after an alien invasion."

"She's vulnerable." Zuli's face flashed with comprehension.

"The woman is cosy with a world famous and much beloved group of superpowered aliens and one of their own just slaughtered forty-million people. With a PR nightmare like that, I'd be vulnerable too."

"So the rumours…?" she enquired tentatively.

"Complete and utter bullshit. But they matter."

"Wasn't she the one who proposed this initial cooperation with us?"

"Out of necessity."

"Sir?"

The Director sighed internally, disappointed at his assistant's lack of comprehension, though he supposed it had been before her tenure within this government, much less Section 33.

"Gero's experiment exposed our military weaknesses. If it wasn't for Son and his Saiyan friends we'd probably all be dead, but, 'good guys' or not, the kind of power they have is dangerous."

"The kind of power that attracts attention from the big bad government."

"Right. We weren't about to go to war with a group of superpowered aliens, much less ones who had just saved us, but we couldn't leave that kind of power unchecked either. Ms Briefs recognised that so we came to a resolution. We left them to act with relative freedom under Ms Briefs' supervision, we gave them a few concessions and gained a few of our own in return."

Zuli's face flashed in realisation.

"Project Sky?"

"Project Sky."

"So you basically created superheroes." She chuckled.

"What?"

"The golden-haired warriors. The men of steel, the phenomena."

Rami's lip curled in distaste as his assistant's eyes danced with amusement.

"You know, it sounds incredibly crass when you say it like that. Besides, Son and his friends created their own legend after the Android incident. We simply sold them to the world."

He was right. The very public defeat of Dr Gero's experiment had practically eliminated any possibility Section 33 may have had to conceal the incident. They'd had no choice but to allow the legend to flourish, albeit with a modicum of control. Not even the capture of Dr Gero could strengthen their positon.

But still…

"That doesn't sound like dealing with us was a necessity. Ms Briefs had all the cards plus a squeaky clean reputation. We couldn't hope to touch her. Why would she need to make any kind of deal with us, much less one as significant as Sky?"

"You're forgetting Ms Briefs is a businesswoman." Rami countered. "Risk assessment is business. She had all the cards then and there but anything can happen in the future. Think about what one rogue scientist was able to accomplish with only a fraction of our resources, a serious grudge and a few years of isolation."

"Thirteen." Zuli realised

"The monster himself." Rami concurred.

"We couldn't be left alone."

"Precisely." Rami paused to sip his coffee. "Don't forget their victory over Thirteen far from a rout. She feared what we could eventually accomplish with our considerable resources. We may have had a far weaker hand back then but ignoring us would've been a fatal mistake."

"So, she could either work with us or their entire group would eventually be in the firing line."

"Exactly. But we were weak at the time… technically we still are. Briefs smelled blood in the water and bit like a good corporate shark is want to do."

"And cut a deal that allowed her to hold on to her significant amount of freedom." Zuli finished. "I'm impressed."

"You should be. She's an extraordinary woman... if you ignore the fact that her entire group are a threat to the safety of the planet."

"Even so, I'm surprised you managed to get Project Sky out of the deal."

"Sounds like you lack faith in your government." Rami smirked.

"No amount of faith changes the fact we're still hopelessly unarmed. Even if she had to cooperate with us, I have a hard time believing the Capsule Corporation president would give us something so substantial considering the bargaining power she had."

"You're half right."

She gave him an inquisitive look.

"Bulma Briefs is a smart woman. If any of the knowledge she so graciously bestowed upon us is true then she recognises the benefits of a self-sufficient planet and military. Regardless of what she thinks of us, improving our military and infrastructure is invaluable to this planet."

Director Rami quirked a brow and gave her a mischievous smile at her look of inquisition. There was that curiosity he loved.

"What kind of information…?"

"Just some stuff about space travel and egomaniacal alien emperors. Classified information above your pay grade." He dangled that last carrot with a wink and a smirk. He knew this would come up again at some point in the future. "What's important is Gero's android was scrap metal by the time Son was finished with him. And since such valuable technology was no longer useful..."

"She was forced to help us directly."

A nugget of pride shone beneath the Director's neutral gate. She was learning.

"Know thine enemy. Understand his temperament, glean knowledge of his weaknesses and exploit them."

"Profound."

"'The March'. Insightful book, I'll lend it to you some time."

"So that was enough to get Bulma to cooperate?"

"Yes… and no."

"Hmm?"

"Bulma had a good hand but she wasn't the only one holding all the cards."

The nugget crumbled at her look of perplextion, though Rami couldn't help his amusement at her blank stare and he returned the gaze with a humoured glance.

"You enjoy confusing me, don't you?"

"It's one of the few perks of this job."

Behind the window pane, a sudden gust of intense wind shifted the trees and swept dust and across the forest floor. Rami and his assistant observed attentively as the sleek black jet copter descended onto the pad. The sun reflected softly on the weathered black metal and Capsule Corporation logo shone with pride.

From the belly of the impressive machine stepped Bulma Briefs. Even from the distance her presence was unmistakable, the professional attire and polished heels added endless stature to her petite frame.

Speak of the devil…

"Zuli." His assistant snapped to attention. "Be a dear and tell the good Dr Wheelo to prep our guest for interrogation. Ms Briefs has arrived."

"Of course, Sir."

Their impromptu lesson on the subtleties of politics would have to wait. Director Rami adjusted his navy suit, finished the last of his coffee with a sharp gulp and tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan.

Zuli turned to leave, then the manila envelope on the polished desk caught her eye.

"I don't suppose you plan on sharing those files with me…" she enquired mischievously.

He gave her a knowing smirk, which only piqued her curiosity.

"These?" He collected the envelope. "I told you I'd been waiting for something like this to happen. Let's just say I conducted some independent research on our guest in Z-wing."

"What did you find?"

Director Rami locked eyes with his assistant and smiled.

"Leverage."

The Gears of War

Those of you who've read my previous fic, Warriors, will know that this is a re-write.

I've read a lot of great DBZ stories but, barring Drathkul's magnificent 'The Long Road' (check it out if you haven't already) the whole 'Gohan kidnapping' plot device has been surprisingly neglected, so I thought I'd throw my ideas out there and see how it goes.

Just as a warning, this will be an AU with a number of significant differences from the show. For one, power levels and transformations will no longer be the deus ex machina we see in the anime.

Let me know what you think.

Barbosa