EARTH, AGE 784.
Even years after the Androids left, West City remained scarred and deformed.
The once thriving center of the city had been ripped out years ago, reduced to a glass floor. Skyscrapers, those that remained in the skyline, were still empty and hollowed out. Craters from the Androids terror still dotted the cityscape, blackened husks of cities remained while others were being torn down in controlled demolitions. Yet for all the ruins and scars that remained, new breath had crept into the city. The road system was repaired, power long restored, scores of buildings cleaned up and rendered habitable. The sound of the work crews was ever present throughout the city, made up of ordinary people and those who had answered Trunks' call.
Capsule Corp had not escaped the destruction, yet it stood tall still with the patchwork repairs that covered the hole in its roof and the wounds that had been punched into its walls. They stood out against the building's structure, but kept the inside warm and dry. The building had become something of an unofficial headquarters, its courtyard having been transformed into an informal training ground—with the more environmentally hazardous training being taken to Earth's desolate badlands and uninhabited islands.
Indeed, it was a beautiful day as seven figures strode into Capsule Corp itself. The blue sky practically glowed, filled with a smattering of white clouds while a gentle breeze made its way through the courtyard. Accompanied by the sound of other students of the Briefs School at work in the courtyard itself, doing katas and sparring. It had the bones of a martial arts school and boot camp—yet fell short from either of them, lacking true uniformity among other things. Few of the students came close to matching the idle power of the seven who walked through Capsule Corps' halls. Most fell short of even that much.
The odd group moved through the halls quickly, guided by a short mustachioed man called Alamond. His stubby legs moved swiftly to keep him ahead of the group. Soon enough he came to a sudden stop, turned sharply on his heel, and gestured for them to enter the room that was set up.
Bulma Briefs was already in the room, wearing a simple Capsule Corps jumpsuit with her hair done up into a ponytail. She put out the lit cigarette on the ashtray that rested on the table she was standing behind and gave the group a wave as they filed in. They were seats in the room, a few even sized correctly for the various people of…non Earth average size in the room. Bulma put her hands in the jumpsuit pockets as she began to speak, not waiting to see if any of the gathered warriors would actually bother to sit.
She watched them for a moment, before she spoke.
"Trunks won't be here." Bulma began without preamble, gaze lingering on Nephenee and Cell MAX for a moment. "He's down on the southern islands, dealing with a group of idiots who got their hands on an old military base and looted the armory. So I'll keep this short."
She took a hand out of her jumpsuit pocket, flipping open three dossiers on the table.
"We've managed to pick up a trail." Bulma continued, voice darkening briefly. "Mix of radio signals from the listening posts we've set up and word of mouth from new arrivals. Can't speak to any of the information with a hundred percent certainty, but I think most of what we've gathered is solid."
Bulma cleared her throat. "So, first off-"
Article: The Whip and the Chipped Knife: The agri-world of Sparus Prime threw off the PTO garrison after the demise of the Cold Clan in bloody revolt. They then survived the intervening years by enlisting the aid of the Free Star Fleet. A ramshackle but tough outfit, the FSF was primarily made up of ex-slaves who had either fled from PTO worlds and stations before the death of the Universal Emperor and his family, and had their ranks swell in size after Freeza's demise. This mutual aid has enabled both factions of ex-slaves to enjoy the breath of freedom, even as the galaxy falls into chaos. This ended, however, when the Androids strolled through the system. The Free Star Fleet was casually slaughtered over the course of the day, with the Androids supposedly landing on Sparus Prime itself to toy with the local population before leaving. In their wake, the Bil'Bdaz Force has assaulted the star system. Going by radio transmissions, they seek to re-enslave the populace of Sparus Prime and are opposed only by the remnants of the Free Star Fleet. Word of mouth says they won't last long alone.
The Crack in the Wall: Freeza Planet 523 was a mining world focused on stripping the jungle and ripping up the earth in order to fuel the insatiable appetite of the Planet Trade Organization. In the aftermath of the Cold Clans demise a warlord named Shiver seized control of 523, and turned himself into an arms supplier. He kept his independence by supplying a specialized product that was becoming rarer as the PTO broke down; Saibamen. More than that, he had started providing variants for sale—then abruptly went dark a year ago. Recently a local power by the name of the Garad Republic attempted to muscle into the system and take Freeza Planet 523 for themselves, only for their forces to be repulsed by hordes of Saibamen; without a handler in sight.
Rotten Wood, Rotten Souls: Worlds have started to go quiet across the galaxy. This in of itself is not an unusual thing. The wider universe has always been a dangerous place, doubly so nowadays. What's odd about these is that the planets have been reaved clean of life. Not in the means of armies butchering a path, or teams of warriors clearing a planet for sale. But as if they had simply been drained of all life and potential. Odder still is the only other similarity between these dead worlds; that of giant trees, reaching into the atmosphere yet dead and withered as the world around them. The pirate outfit Crusher Corp was rumored to leave a similar trail, but they've been dead for years now.
Some of the names within the dossiers proved to be familiar to those among the team who were more experienced in the affairs of the galaxy. Bil'Bdaz was a name known to the Arcosians, especially Suno. The Meatian warlord was the last of his kind—a common tale in the Freeza Force—and had splintered off from the PTO like so many other warlords and worlds. His forces had been skirmishing with those of Supreme Commander Sorbets, a noted Board of Directors loyalist, for the past year. To little avail for both sides. Shiver himself had fled Arcos as soon as the news of Freeza and Cold's death arrived, presumably making a beeline for Freeza Planet 523. The Crusher Corps had been a band of pirates for years, living on the very edges of the galaxy, and attempted to take advantage of the initial chaos after the Universal Emperor's death. Unfortunately for them, they did so during Coolers very brief tenure as sole ruler of the PTO. They met their end when he decided to deal with them personally.
"That about sums it up." Bulma finished, stepping away from the table and picking up a datapad. "Feel free to pick one out. Don't take too long, though. You guys have until I get the ship ready." She fished around in her pockets for another cigarette as she got ready to leave.
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