Trunks's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Trunks had broken three training robots this week, and he still couldn't turn his hair gold. He stood in the gym at the base of the sleek white tower, fists shaking, teeth clenched, willing the power to come. His father had done it once in a fit of pure rage. Trunks had read the old data logs a hundred times. The transformation needed fury, raw and total. But Trunks was calm. He ate breakfast. He slept well. Nobody here wanted him dead. That was the problem. He punched the training dummy until his knuckles split. The machine beeped and logged his power level. Still the same number. Still not enough. He screamed at the ceiling, but screaming on purpose felt fake. You can't fake rage, he thought. You have to earn it. The gym lights flickered. Then they died. Trunks froze. The backup power should have kicked in. It didn't. A low sound came from the hall, like plates of armor sliding together. Something had cut the tower's energy from the inside. A figure walked through the dark doorway. Lean, green and purple, with a long segmented tail that dragged across the floor. Trunks had never met him, but he knew the shape from the warnings his father left behind. Cell. The creature built to be perfect. The thing that fed on other fighters to grow stronger. "Son of the prince," Cell said. His voice was soft, almost bored. "You smell like your father. Weaker, though." Trunks stepped back. "How did you get in here?" Cell smiled and flicked his tail. "I walked. Your walls are decoration." He tilted his head. "I came for a measurement. Show me what you can do." Trunks threw a punch. Cell caught his fist without looking. The grip crushed down until Trunks felt bone grind. He gasped and swung with his other arm. Cell blocked it, then drove a knee into his ribs. Trunks hit the far wall and slid to the floor. "Disappointing," Cell said. He walked closer, slow and patient. "I expected a spark. You have none." Trunks spat blood. He tried to rise. Cell stepped on his hand and pressed. The pain was white and huge. And under the pain, something new began to move. Not fear. Heat. "Your bloodline ends quietly," Cell said. He raised his palm. Light gathered there, aimed at Trunks's chest. Something in Trunks snapped loose. The heat tore up through his spine and burst behind his eyes. He heard himself roar, and it was not fake this time. The floor cracked under him. His hair stood up and flashed gold. The gym lit up like noon. Cell staggered back, his smile gone. "There it is," he said. Trunks stood, glowing, shaking, whole. He had the power now. But Cell had come to measure it. And he had found exactly what he was hunting for.