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Saiyan Instinct	By : Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female Views: 4161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Chapter contributed by : lynnwood84

Nope, I don't own or claim any rights to
Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z or Dragon Ball GT. I'm just borrowing most of the
characters to bring my own literary genius to life. This is also a slightly A-U
fic, for the simple reason that people that are supposed to be dead probably
aren�t. I just can�t keep track of who�s alive and who�s pushing up daisies on
this darned show. XD

Beware of LEMONS(boarder-line hentai here,
simply for the AMOUNT of citrus we're dealing with, my eyes sting just thinking
about it), LANGUAGE and VIOLENCE, if you can't handle those, go someplace else,
or your little minds will be warped beyond all recognition.

This will be a multi-pairing story. And I
REALLY mean multi-pairing. We've got some Vegeta-Bulma, some Goku-Chi-Chi, a
little Gohan-Videl, a touch of Trunks-Pan, Goten-Bra, OC-Marron. . . .
basically everybody gets some. ^_^ The best kind of fic, in my opinion, a
little bit of everything for everybody. It's mostly a G-B and T-P fic (because
I actually have to get them TOGETHER before they can get it on), but just about
everyone gets at least one lemon chapter later on. Obviously with six couples, we're
bound to get a little hentai here. Please be prepared for it. Plus, with all of
the Saiyan, half-breeds and Quazi's about, it'll probably still get bloody,
violent and foul-mouthed too, so be ready for that as well. Otherwise, please
read on and enjoy. Drop me a line if you like. I love to hear from readers. ^_^

::Prologue::
Deep into the reaches of the farthest corner of space, a single space pod
shot through the velvety darkness, slightly rendering it's uniformity as it
blasted toward it's nameless destination. Thousands upon thousands of galaxies,
stars and planets passed outside the single window, unnoticed. Deeply asleep,
the chryo-gas had kept the single occupant ageless and unconscious throughout
these many years, the computer system sustaining, maintaining, and keeping his
mind and body at top physical form. With no apparent direction, the space pod
flew out aimlessly into the universe.
Unawares, the young Saiyan warrior slept on, waiting to be released from his
icy prison, waiting to join his brethren once more. Waiting for revenge.

::Chapter 1::

In the Life of a Prince

The nineteen year old Trunks stood confident in front of his full length
mirror, studying his choice of wardrobe for the day. His lavender hair, sheered
just above his ears and shaved beneath, fell down into his liquid blue eyes as
his mouth quirked into a cocky, one-sided smirk. In that instant, the half-breed
Saiyan Prince was a dead-ringer for his father.
The filthy rich, incredibly good-looking teen had a reputation to protect at
the local Orange Star City High School, and he'd chosen an outfit that would
serve this purpose. He wore a blood red muscle shirt tucked snugly into a
belted pair of tight black jeans, with a matching black jean jacket over that,
whose hem just barely touched the waist of his pants. It wasn't at all chilly
outside on this warm spring morning, but some sacrifices had to be made for
fashion. His feet were encased by a pair of black buckle boots, similar to his
favorite pair of orange and brown ones that he wore when training.
Which the teenager was doing less and less of here lately, but he currently
had more important things to worry about. Such as girlfriends and sports.
Trunks' fists propped onto his hips with a pleased sigh, then he glanced out
of the corner of his eye to check the time. His eyes nearly popped out of their
sockets when he saw that it was nearly seven thirty.
"Oh great!" he cried, scrambling around to gather his things,
briefly losing that innate coolness that seemed exude from his every pore. Once
he'd packed everything that he'd need for the day, Trunks ran out of his room
and made a mad dash for the kitchen. He passed his mother on the way.
"Hi Mom! Bye Mom!" This was all said in a split instant, the
Saiyan half-breed flying down the hall like a whirl-wind. Bulma flattened
herself against the wall, eyes squinted, then loosened again with a breathy
sigh once her son had passed. Several loose papers floated around in his wake.
"Have a good day at school, hon," she called half-heartedly. In an
instant Trunks was back. He grinned, then bent and pecked her on the cheek.
"Thanks, mom," he responded, reminding her suddenly of the tiny
little lavender-haired scamp that he used to be. Then, in a flash, the Saiyan
half-breed was gone again. Bulma merely shook her head, rolled her eyes, then
continued on toward the workroom, a tiny smile pulling at her lips.
Trunks hurried into the kitchen and commenced to wolfing down the enormous
breakfast that his grandmother had already laid out for him.
"G'morning dear!" the blonde woman chirped happily, still standing
in front of the stove. Trunks waved half-heartedly, his face buried in is plate
of pancakes. Once he cleared the table, which took all of ten minutes, if that,
Trunks leapt to his feet and wiped his mouth in the same motion. Then he
grabbed his knapsack and took off again in a full run.
In no time at all he was outside and shot off into the air in a blast of
fiery ki, flying in the direction of his and Goten's meeting place. This
consisted of a light pole on a street corner, a block or so away from school.
Trunks quickly landed in an inconspicuous place, then ran up to Goten, who was
waiting impatiently for his arrival.
His best friend since childhood was a full year younger than Trunks and he
looked it, too. The goof strongly resembled his father Goku in many ways, had
the same indigenous "Dumb-As-A-Brick" expression that more often than
not painted his lightly tanned face. His dark eyes were large, rounded and more
often than not blinking, which reminded Trunks of an owl on horse
tranquilizers. His inky black hair was worn long, just past his collar, and
fell around his face and shoulders in a riot of disheveled, messy spikes. Goten
currently wore a white T shirt, untucked, with his own name printed in bold
black letters across the front and a pale blue, unbuttoned button-up shirt on
over that, with tacky little orange triangles splattered all over it. He also
had on a pair of kaki shorts, thick white gym socks folded down and a pair of
blue and black sneakers on his feet, the laces untied. Trunks just stared at
his best friend for a moment, a pained expression on his face. He slowly shook
his head.
"You look like an over-grown fifth grader," he finally spouted.
Goten huffed indignantly, tugging self-consciously at the lapels of his
overshirt.
"Hey, don't knock the style, man," he half growled, half whined.
"These are bona-fide, chick-grabbing threads here."
"Yeah," Trunks snorted, "if the chicks in question still
watch Barney."
Goten flashed him a hurt expression.
"That was just wrong," he muttered, grabbing up his knapsack and
stalking off in the direction of their school.
Laughing uproariously, Trunks hurried to catch up with him. He soon fell
into step, grinning over at his now scowling companion. Goten was still
slightly shorter than him, but the ungainly teen was finally experiencing a
growth spurt and Trunks had the suspicions that by the end of the year Goten
would be the taller one.
"Hey man, no hard feelings all right? It's just that you are in sore
need of a fashion consultant, that's all." Trunks reached over and yanked
on an unruly lock of black hair. "And a tough pair of scissors."
Goten smacked his hand away with a dark look. "Watch it, man. You're
really starting to piss me off, and it's not even eight o'clock yet."
"Actually, it's ten minutes after eight," a helpful passer-by
informed them. Both the half-Saiyans' expressions turned to abject horror.
"We're late!" they cried in unison, then took off in a run.
The teens hurried into the halls of Orange Star High School just as the late
bell rang it's almost sickeningly euphoric, musical toll.
"Dammit!" Goten whined. "Now I'm gonna get detention for
sure!"
"See you at lunch, man," Trunks huffed as he wheeled down a
separate hallway than his friend. Goten waved to indicate that he'd heard and
agreed, then raced in the direction of his own classroom.
Trunks skid to a halt in front of Mrs. Deetlemyre's Senior English class. He
took a moment to straighten his clothes and smooth down his ruffled hair. Then
he opened the door with a deft twist of the knob and stepped in. The door
closed behind him with a semi-loud bang, gaining the undivided attention of
everyone in the room.
The room, like all other classrooms in Orange Star High, was laid out much
like a college classroom. The teacher's desk and black board were on ground
level, and then the opposite wall consisted of bleacher-style levels of desks
and chairs that went nearly to the high-vaulted ceiling.
Mrs. Deetlemyre was a somewhat elderly woman with rectangular glasses
perched on her nose, held in place by a string of maroon and lavender beads.
Her steel gray hair was twisted up into a bun like Chi-Chi and her short,
rotund little body was clothed in a full length green floral print dress. The
old woman turned from announcing the day's lesson at his entrance to fix Trunks
with a narrowed glare.
"Mr. Briefs," she called in a slightly nasal, haughty voice.
"Late again. Why doesn't this surprise me?"
Trunks decided that it was time to turn on the sugar. He assumed a vastly
hurt, pained expression, working up a bit of moisture in his blue eyes and blinking
rapidly for effect.
"I'm so sorry sensei, b-but it's my mother! She collapsed this morning!
W-we thought she might have had a heart attack!" His hand slipped over his
own heart, eyes wide with a practiced, dramatically fearful expression. "I
couldn't just leave her, Miss D," he continued. "What if she
died?"
Nearly every girl in the classroom was close to swooning. Even Mrs.
Deetlemyre, pushing fifty plus, was moved to releasing a breathy sigh by the
sinfully attractive teen's performance.
Mrs. Deetlemyre murmured her sympathies and told the faintly smirking Trunks
to go have a seat, assuring him that no penalties would befall his tardiness to
class. Trunks released a sigh of relief. He made his way up the steps and
quickly took his seat, which was on the edge of the second-to-top tier. The
girl he sat next to, Paris Winthrop, smiled winningly in his direction. She
absently twisted a hank of curly auburn hair around her finger as Trunks
situated himself.
"Did your mom really have a heart attack?" she asked in a whisper.
Trunks gave her a mischievous grin.
"'Coarse not," he whispered back. She giggled.
"You're bad." Trunks leaned a little closer.
"I know," he purred, eyebrow quirking. Her cheeks brightened to a
faint pink, her dark eyes glazing over slightly.
Trunks pulled away however, knowing full well that Goten had a crush on this
particular girl. Trunks himself could have his pick of the litter, while Goten
wasn't nearly so lucky. Therefore Trunks tended to steer clear of whomever
caught his friend's eye from week to week, trying to give his gangling buddy at
least a shot in the dark.
First period went by slowly, drowned away in Mrs. Deetlemyre's droning voice
as she discussed the literary intricacies of Shakespeare's Macbeth. Trunks
didn't need to hear it, having read a complete volume of Shakespearean works
when he was in and around the age of seven. He had the potential for genius
caliber intelligence, like his mother, but Trunks rarely if ever applied
himself properly and so it never really showed. Except in the instances where
he could easily ace tests, mid-terms and final exams without ever studying a
lick for them. He'd even purposefully failed a year, way back in middle school,
so that he and Goten would be in the same grade.
Trunks' second period, Mr. Hillner's Algebra II class, went by even slower
than English as the balding man taught the rest of the class how to do
Slope-Intercept problems of which Trunks had been doing when his peers were
learning how to add and subtract, way back in the first grade. Mr. Hillner
began scribbling a problem on the board.
"If point X equals negative three and point Y equals six and if the
slope, otherwise known as M, is equal to two, what is the Y-intercept equal to,
in equation form?" There was a moment of silence, as no one raised their
hand. Trunks stared off into space, his chin in his hand. Mr. Hillner noticed
this and glared. "Trunks!" The lavender-haired teen whirled back.
"Hm-m?"
"What is the answer to this problem?" Trunks gave it a glance.
"Y=2x+12," he spouted rather nonchalantly, then turned back to his
daydreaming. Mr. Hillner huffed, flabbergasted while the classroom tittered
with amusement.
Finally the bell rang, signaling the beginning of their thirty minute lunch
break. He met Goten out on the quad, who was tearing into the enormous meal
that his mother had packed for him that morning, face downcast with a gloomy
expression. Trunks sighed as he sat next to him, smiling and waving at a group
of girls as they passed out of habit.
"What's up, Goten?" Trunks finally asked. Goten gave him a moody
scowl from over his brown lunch sack.
"The sky," he shot sulkily, stuffing a dinner roll into his mouth.
Trunks' eyebrows raised.
"What's wrong now?" he droned.
"Wha d'you fink?" Goten whined around a mouth full of bread,
spitting out several crumbs in the process, then swallowed noisily. "I got
detention for a week! Mom's gonna kill me!" Trunks just sighed and shook
his head, brushing off a few bread crumbs from his jacket front.
"You just gotta know how to deal with them, man," he announced
lazily. "It's all about style." Goten just gave him a dirty look.
"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't even want to hear it. You make me sick
sometimes. I don't even know why I hang out with you."
"That's easy," Trunks laughed. "You hang out with me so the
cheerleaders will talk to you." The lavender-haired Prince turned to gaze
at the group of short-skirted females in question, who were staring at them, to
wave and smile. This caused the twenty-some-odd females to swoon all over
themselves. Which, in turn, caused their skimpy skirts to fly up and give the
surrounding male populace a great view. Goten grinned, lazy twinkle lighting
his dark eyes as he joined his fellows in taking advantage of the scenery.
"Yeah, maybe you got a point there," he breathed.
"Of coarse I do," Trunks agreed loftily. "Now give me some of
those carrot-cake cupcakes."
Goten scowled, wrapping a protective arm around the coveted pastries.
"No way, man. Mom made these especially for me."
"She only gave you so many cause she knew I'd want some," Trunks
reasoned with a frown, reaching for one. And without much success when Goten
smacked his arm away. "Come on, Goten!" he nearly whined. "I
never get to have homemade cupcakes!"
"Hey, it's not my fault that the only thing that ever comes out of your
mom's kitchen is nuclear waste. These are my cupcakes, dammit, and you can't
have any!" To accent his words he stuffed a whole one in his mouth and
chewed vengefully, frosting smearing his lips and cheek as he gave a defiant
glare in his begging friend's direction.
Trunks stared plaintively, a puppy-dog expression on his face, blue eyes
blinking as he stuck out his bottom lip. Goten scowled at him for a few minutes
trying to hold out, then growled darkly and sat back, crossing his arms with a
jerk and leaving the path to the cupcakes free and clear.
"I really hate you sometimes," he grumbled sulkily.
"Oh come on Goten," Trunks laughed as he delicately shoved a
cupcake in his mouth. "You know you love me."
"I'd love to kill you," he shot back with a rueful grin,
"does that count?"
After lunch the two teens went to their third period class, the only one
they had together and consequently their favorite. Gym. The reason for this was
obvious. They being even half Saiyan meant that both Trunks and Goten were
stronger, faster and much better coordinated than any other kid in the class,
which made them the stars. Well, Trunks more than Goten, since he didn't have
the propensity to falling flat on his face for no apparent reason at all like
Goku's youngest child was sometimes wont to do.
Their bellies full, the two were in high spirits as they changed out and
headed for the baseball field. Even Goten had managed to shake the dread of
going home to face his mother. At least for the time being.
After school Trunks headed home with a smile on his face and a whistle on
his lips, at peace with the world around him. He'd managed to secure a date
with Ginger Norward just after the bell, and it would no doubt prove to be a
very fulfilling night ahead. That thought made him grin as he entered through
the compound.
The new and improved, massive football-stadium-sized Artificial Gravity
Training Center that his mother had just completed filled up much of the front grounds.
The bright red strobe lights out front were blinking madly, telling all without
that Vegeta was currently inside for his daily workout. Trunks paid no
attention to this all-too-familiar setting, hurrying into the mansion-of-sorts
and heading for the kitchen for an afternoon snack.
Trunks was surprised, however, to see his mother within, seated at the
table. She sipped from a cup of coffee, not looking at him when he entered.
That set off little warning bells in the mind of the former-warrior. Normally
she was holed up in her workroom at this time of day. She was still dressed in
her workscrubs, aqua-colored hair pulled back from her face and pinned about
her head. Her blue eyes remained trained on her coffee, not even acknowledging
his arrival.
He gave his suspiciously silent mother wide berth as he circled the table
and went for the fridge.
"Hey mom, how was your day?" he asked neutrally, reaching the
icebox and pulling it open.
"Oh, just fine dear," she sneered, and he stiffened, "aside
from suffering a massive heart attack this morning. Everything's been just
peachy."
Trunks felt his whole body loosen as he groaned, eyes closing. Of all the
rotten luck . . . .
"Mrs. Deetlemyre called me this afternoon to check up on my
health," she continued. "Apparently I'd gone into cardiac arrest and
hadn't even realized it, causing you to be late for class this morning."
"Mom I can explain---," he started, turning about, but she raised
a hand to hush him.
"Don't even start," she snapped. "I can't believe you,
Trunks! Lying about something like that!" She shook her head, disapproval
marring her every feature. She slowly got to her feet. "You're grounded
for the next three months, mister. No cars, no television, no phone, no video
games, no money, and no fun. Period. Mrs. Deetlemyre also assured me that you
would be given at least a week's worth of detention as well."
"Mom you can't do this!" Trunks cried, face stricken. "I've
got a date tonight!"
"Not any more you don't," she shot back, hands on her hips.
"Now get into the Gravity room. Your father wants a word with you."
Stark terror painted the lavender-haired half-breed then. Dear Dende, anything
but that! When his father wanted a word, it meant he wanted twenty-four hours
or more of sweat, blood and tears. "I called Chi-Chi earlier and told her
about the whole mess and she told me about Goten's detention as well," his
mother continued, herding him out of the kitchen, "so he should be over
shortly to join you."
Heart pounding, Trunks retreated into his room and stalled for as long as he
could under the guise of changing into his training clothes. When most kids got
into trouble, they were spanked, grounded, possibly roughed up a bit. When
Trunks got into trouble, he was made to train. And with Vegeta, Prince of the
Saiyan, as the disciplinarian, the experience was more like getting beaten to
within an inch of one's life. As Trunks was part Saiyan, he could more than
survive the hellish experience, he just wouldn't particularly enjoy being alive
for a very long time afterward.
Trunks changed into a loose black Capsule Cooperation T-shirt with the
sleeves ripped off, a pair of gray jeans, a belt, orange wristbands and a pair
of sneakers. He gulped, sent a quick prayer up to Dende for mercy, then slowly
trudged down toward the AGTC.
It was a very large dome-like building, set apart from the others on the
compound for obvious safety reasons. The massive building gleamed a brilliant
silver and white in the bright sunlight of the afternoon, with no windows or openings
save one in the door. The door itself was a hydraulically locked hatchway,
reinforced with solid titanium bands and another metal that hadn't quite been
named yet, recently developed right here in the Capsule Corporation Compound.
Much of the building was constructed of this new, revolutionized metal
alloy, in fact. It was completely indestructible by normal means, and only
slightly batterable by Saiyan standards. The metal was still in testing stages,
but so far it seemed to be holding out rather well. Before, there had been a
much smaller "gravity chamber" in it's place, designed and built by
the late Dr. Briefs. This new and improved, much larger version had been
conceived, designed and constructed by his daughter, Bulma Briefs, and co-designed
by her son, Trunks Briefs as a Christmas present to Vegeta last year. So far,
it was working like a dream. And there were times when Trunks wanted to kill
himself for coming up with the design in the first place.
Just above the door of the building were three red bulbs, currently flashing
brightly on and off in a rapid 1-2-3 pattern. To the side of that, still above
the door, were a string of words painted in bright red as well.

Artificial Gravity Training Center.

WARNING!!!

When Lights Are Flashing, A.G.T.C. In Use.

DO NOT Open Door From Outside When Lights Are Flashing.

Property of Capsule Corporation
Just to the side of the door was a large red toggle, with words to the side
of that as well.

In Case of An Emergency

Pull Emergency Shut-Off Switch
When it came to these things, the Briefs had learned over the years that
such a device was a must. Only Dende knew what could happen with Vegeta and an
artificial gravity chamber.
Trunks swallowed then raised a shaky hand and beat three times. There was a
pause, and then the lights shut off, signaling that his father had shut it
down. Trunks took one more fortifying breath, then released the hydraulics and
crept inside.
Inside, the circular building was several hundred yards high and nearly a
hundred yards long from the center to the edge, in every direction. Lit to
almost painful intensity by white halogen spotlights, the floor was tiled in
silver and the walls and ceiling were made of the same, nondescript steel
casing. In the center of the room sat the control board, to govern the level of
gravity within as well as to program several different training exercises.
The torture chamber.
And it's master stood near the center, his thick arms crossed, hawk-like
features pulled down into that permanent, disapproving scowl. His father wore a
simple black muscle shirt, a pair of sky blue drawstring sweat pants and his
ever present white gloves and steel-toe boots. Trunks hung his head, not
bothering with trying to cajole or reason with his father. He'd learned from experience
that it would do no good.
"Your mother tells me that you've been spreading lies about her health
at school, Brat," he growled.
"He only said that so he could get out of detention," came a
semi-confident voice from the doorway behind Trunks. He turned to see Goten
stepping inside, dressed in his bright orange Gi, the open-necked top tied
tight around his waist with a black belt, knotted in the center with the ends
dangling down past his thighs. He also had a pair of black wristbands and the
dark blue boots that his father used to wear.
Vegeta slowly shifted his dark eyes from his own offspring to Kakkarott's
youngest brat, which caused the goofy-looking boy to cringe. He hung his head,
scuffling the toe of his shoe on the tiles.
"Not very intelligent of him, was it?" Vegeta sneered, and Goten
shook his head.
"No sir," he mumbled.
"Your mothers have petitioned me to see to your initial punishments.
Which I am more than happy to do. You two pathetic excuses for warriors are in
sore need of some training anyhow."
Vegeta began to pace before the two taller teens, arms crossed over his
chest, scowl firm, to begin on his lecture.
"You both are a complete disgrace. What do you think would happen if an
enemy attacked our gates tomorrow? How would you deal with the situation?"
"We wouldn't," Trunks shot back, braving his father's wrath for
speaking out of turn. "You and Goku would take care of it, like you always
do."
"Wrong," Vegeta snapped back, stopping to give his taller son a
glare that could melt ice. "During the fight with Cell, Goku was
slaughtered and I nearly shared the same fate. It was Gohan who was forced to
save us all, and he was barely out of diapers!"
He was actually closer to twelve years old at the time, but neither teens
wanted to risk correcting him. Vegeta began pacing again.
"History has proven that it is not always left up to Kakkarott and I.
The second and third generations must sometimes step up to the task of
defending our homes and families." Vegeta swung back to them. "And quite
frankly if Earth's safety were left up to you two," he snarled, "we'd
all be dead within the hour. You're a complete humiliation to your race and
your heritage."
"Despite what you believe Father," Trunks snapped, his temper
pricked, "there are other things to do with your life besides
training!"
"Yeah," Goten seconded.
Neither of them ever saw it coming.
Swifter than lightning the Prince of the Saiyan struck. He caught Goten in
the stomach with a swift knee, then backhanded the boy as he doubled over,
sending the teen to the floor with a groan. Before Trunks had any time to react
Vegeta was upon him, knocking the lavender-haired half-breed off his feet with
a low roundhouse. Trunks yelped, then gurgled as Vegeta planted a boot hard
into his throat.
"You're right," Vegeta finally responded, not even winded as Goten
groaned in pain and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor, Trunks struggling to
breathe at his feet. "There are alternatives to training," Vegeta
continued coldly. "It's called dying."
He didn't budge for several moments, then lifted his foot and spun away.
Trunks curled up instantly, choking and coughing bitterly.
"On your feet!" Vegeta snapped as he approached the gravity
controls. Both teens struggled to stand as their tormentor set the computer.
The door closed and locked on it's own behind them, sealing them inside as
the white lights shut off, replaced by red ones. The shiny metal tile at their
feet gleamed like blood as a result. A foreshadowing of sorts, as a monotone
female voice suddenly came out of the speakers surrounding them.
"Training exercise Alpha-Three . . . initiated. Gravity is now . . .
two hundred and fifty times normal Earth Gravity."
A slight shift in the air, and instantly Trunks and Goten were flat on their
faces again. Both screamed.
"Dad, we're not used to this high," Trunks somehow managed to cry
out. Vegeta approached them, arms crossed, not effected in the slightest.
"That's unfortunate for you then isn't it," he sneered as the
twenty training robots lined around the outer parameter whirred to life.
Vegeta stepped back again and watched with a critical air as the metal
warriors began beating the crap out of the two unfortunate souls. It took
nearly a full minute for Trunks to smarten up. With a scream of rage his
lavender hair exploded into a brilliant gold, his narrowed eyes a deadly
sea-green as he morphed to Super Saiyan status. Goten was right behind him.
With the added strength, the two were able to stand and move in labored, jerky
movements but were far from being out of the frying pan.
Blood poured down the left side of his face from a gash at his eyebrow as
Goten ducked a hard left swing from his metal opponent, who was completely
unaffected by the Gs. With a growl he planted his foot into the robot's middle,
sending it flying backward. Horribly out of practice and vulnerable in the
harsh gravity, however, he completely missed the two robots behind him. Goten
let out a cry as he was tackled to the ground again, then screamed as one of
their feet caught him in the ribs, cracking if not breaking several in the
process. Goten struggled to his hands and feet, but it was lights out as the
other caught him square in the face with a merciless drop kick. He flew back
onto his back and didn't move again afterward, thrown into unconsciousness. His
golden hair shifted and fell back into it's limp, black spikes.
Meanwhile Trunks was struggling to keep from sharing a similar fate. Aware
that his father watched him with that ever-disgusted look on his face served to
shove the teen deep into his beserker rage, allowing him to hold out longer
than poor Goten. He struggled to block blow after blow, completely on the
defensive as the ten robots around him backed the Saiyan around the building.
Trunks narrowly ducked and missed the ki blast shot in his direction.
"Come on Brat!" Vegeta snapped from somewhere behind him.
"Get off your damn heels!"
Trunks's eyes narrowed. Enraged on top of being Super didn't bode well. Out
of his mind with anger, Trunks somehow managed to lift his weight off the
ground by twenty some-odd feet. All he knew, all he cared about, was destroying
his enemy. Nothing else mattered, nothing else even registered. His arms shot
out to his sides, and two brilliant white balls of ki formed on each hand. He
brought them forward, pointer fingers extended.
"Final Flash!"
Before the massive blast could be released, which would have no doubt
destroyed the entire Capsule Corporation Compound and killed every living being
within a mile radius, Vegeta was behind his errant offspring. One swift blow to
the back of the head and it was all over. The ki dissipated harmlessly, and
Trunks' body dropped like a rock, hitting the tile below with a loud thud. His
lavender hair fell into his bloody face, hiding it as he lay unconscious.
Vegeta snorted and shook his head as he slowly lowered back to the tile,
then went to the controls, pressing buttons and flipping toggles.
"Training program Alpha-Three . . . terminated. Gravity is now . . .
one times normal Earth Gravity." The red halogens shut off. Vegeta
continued to shake his head with a sigh as he flipped open the drawer to the
left and removed two of the sensu beans he'd hoarded there. He definitely had
his work cut out for him.
And theirs had barely begun.
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Saiyan Instinct

::Prologue::

::Chapter 1::

In the Life of a Prince

Artificial Gravity Training Center.WARNING!!!When Lights Are Flashing, A.G.T.C. In Use. DO NOT Open Door From Outside When Lights Are Flashing.Property of Capsule Corporation

In Case of An EmergencyPull Emergency Shut-Off Switch

Artificial Gravity Training Center.

WARNING!!!

When Lights Are Flashing, A.G.T.C. In Use.

DO NOT Open Door From Outside When Lights Are Flashing.

Property of Capsule Corporation

In Case of An Emergency

Pull Emergency Shut-Off Switch