Hi there. My first story for this site. Sorry in advance if it seems a bit rough.

I wrote this fanfiction because I wanted to take a different approach to the character I related to the most next to Luke Skywalker when growing up as a kid: Son Gohan. In watching the show I really hated how he was side-lined after Cell and got the crap beaten out of him constantly, and he never seemed to do anything about it or have that fact sink into his head (I sure as hell would've, since I'm guessing that's the fault of the author).

Considering how low he's sunk over the years, I feel like I should do his character some justice, as well as for Piccolo, Tien and Vegeta too, because they sure as hell need some more wins. Krillin got his win because he got Android 18 (which is a win-win situation no matter how you try to slice it) and Yamcha... well... I'm sure he's fine with how his life is turning out.

This is the prologue to my story, which is set immediately after Cell and before Bojack. The fic will include the movies, as well as new villains I've invented, new arcs (not just Buu), and maybe move into Super's timeline sometime in the future. It'll also have some of my flare and taste in it, which, and fair warning, includes a vast assortment of anime watching and enjoyment.

While Super is definitely not the same tone as the later parts of Dragonball and the entirety of Dragonball Z, since it's crossing over countless aspects from the Doctor Flapp and Galactic Patrol series, and is pretty much made of Shonen and DBZ tropes, parodies and throwbacks, there are some bits I do like about it: such as Hit, some sort of galactic government/hierarchy, an evil Goku (kind of), and Pan (she is so adorable!), and Gohan's family dynamic.

Hope you guys like this. :)

DRAGONBALL Z

Golden Age

Prologue

(A month after the Cell Games)

(Somewhere in deep space)

Across the wide stretch of universe, somewhere in the outland territories of the western quadrant, the quiet and stillness of the sector was broken by the sounds of battle.

Over a large terrestrial world of endless desert and ocean, a transport-class vessel the size of a large frigate, shaped like a broadsword with three drive assemblies built into its rear and the mark of the Galactic Patrol emblazoned on its side, was currently hauling ass through the region at a ridiculous speed. At the same time four of its eight plasma turrets, which it had mounted towards the stern, were firing red energy bolts back at an approaching behemoth, which turned out to be an enormous grey star ship.

Its hull riddled with sensors and viewing windows, the skyscraper shaped, 3 kilometer long vessel with what looked like a small city built on top of it, with multiple decks and battery emplacements, most of which were firing at the smaller craft, thundered after its prey at full speed.

The two enemies traded blasts, the pilots of the smaller craft doing everything they could to keep their shields up and their vessel away from the line of fire. But just as they seemed like they were pulling away, two well-placed laser bolts from the larger ship's front hit its back plates and took out two of its engines. Its other engine died out, leaving the vessel drifting and dead.

Seizing the moment, the larger ship moved in and tractor beamed the frigate into one of its many hangar bays below. Bridges were deployed and hooked up to the vessel's portside doors.

Onboard the Galactic Patrol vessel, the guards assigned to the flight, adorned in purple spandex uniforms, white armor plating, armed with white rifles and spears, and consisting of a plethora of alien species ranging from lizard types to tiny, imp-like creatures, rushed towards the entrances of the frigate and took aim at the doors.

"They'll be breaching at any second now, men!" the officer in charge, a big alien wearing a warrior's standard of the typical patrol uniform and battle mask barked as he gestured for the men and women into positions along the walls. "Do not let them past this corridor! Hold them here!"

"Yes, sir!" the Galactic Patrol officers replied in unison, each and every one of their weapons loading with a loud hum.

However, before the guards could fully prepare themselves for the battle to come, the two entrances to their vessel were suddenly blasted open and, like a flood, countless humanoid figures- clad in grey metal armor with single yellow visor strips on the front of their helmets- poured into the hallways.

The army of enemy soldiers, armed with sleek, short-barrel plasma rifles, stormed the vessel and overwhelmed the squads of patrolmen inside, their blasters melting holes through their targets as they barreled their way through and occupied the ship's decks in a matter of seconds. Though the invading force also suffered heavy casualties in the ensuing firefight, it was the Galactic Patrol who got hit the worst. Once the screams and sounds of battle finally died minutes later, the hallways of the now captured vessel were littered with the bodies and limbs of fallen guards and soldiers.

As a squad of grey Shock Troopers stationed at one of the entry points dragged the corpses of enemy and allied troops to the sides of the corridor, a new and far more foreboding presence suddenly appeared on the scene. Stepping in through the smoking entrance and ducking under the simmering archway, the loud clanking of heavy footsteps sounded the arrival of the commander. Almost instantly every man inside the ship stood at attention, the hallways seemingly darkening as a massive, hulking alien with a Goliath size and build, wearing a black, full-body spandex uniform, white hip, abdominal, and chest plates decorated by golden trim, white gauntlets, and face-fitting helmet bearing the design of a skull, stepped onboard the stricken craft.

The veil of smog parted under his mass, at the same time a pair of blood red eyes glared through the blackness of the two lenses of his visor.

The commander towered over his men like a monolith, his very presence bringing a cold chill to the sterile atmosphere of the vessel. To those on less developed worlds, he held the bearing of a monster- a creature from a children's storybook. But to those worlds scattered across this portion of the universe, the very name and reputation of this man made Frieza look like an ant ruling over a colony of lesser insects.

Hands positioned behind his back calmly, the giant figure with broad shoulders took a moment to survey the bodies littering his path, only to stop when he saw one of the seemingly dead Galactic Patrol officers- the leader- struggling to get to his feet.

When the large, dazed man in the purple uniform looked up and saw the enormous figure glaring down at him, the security guard immediately bolted upright. "L-Lord Virion!" he shouted, reaching back and grabbing the phaser stored in his holster, "Die you scu-"

Before the man could even draw his weapon or finish his threat, the large commander, without moving so much as a finger, flashed his left eye at the soldier- the iris gleaming a hot orange. The Galactic Patrolman froze instantly mid-draw, a split second before his body, armor, helmet and all, crumbled and formed a pile of ash on the white floor.

Without even giving the remains a second glance, the colossal warlord continued to march down the hallway, treading through the guard's ashes while his soldiers continued to check the bodies for survivors.

The true purpose of the Galactic Patrol vessel was revealed shortly thereafter as the army of armored Shock Troopers stationed in one of the ship's largest rooms began dragging aliens of different species out of the surrounding cells- all of whom were wearing orange prison uniforms- and lined them up against the wall, their backs turned and held at gun point.

When the imposing leader finally arrived at the cell block's entrance, one of the officers among the detachment of soldiers stood at attention beside him, a hologram manifest in hand. "My lord. The prisoner you're searching for is somewhere on this level: cell block A, room 13, detainee number 4026." After skimming through the electronic document, the trooper then looked up anxiously. "It says here the prisoner must be kept under energy restraining bolts at all times during transport. They're classified as highly volatile and extremely dangerous: a category 12 galaxy-wide threat."

"Noted," Lord Virion grunted in a rough, deep and obviously artificial voice, before proceeding into the ship's block.

In response, the rest of the Shock Trooper squadron had the prisoners all drop to their knees while their master marched past them, the rasping of his mask's respirator filling the air with an unsettling tone.

After walking by an entire row of prisoners and open cells, the man then stopped at the front of one of the busted doors, where he watched two of his soldiers step out of the room to face him. The men quickly stood at attention.

"The prisoner is not here, sir," the corporal spoke.

"They must've escaped during the firefight," the other soldier added.

Peering into the chamber, Virion saw that the floor was covered in blood and that there were four metallic cuffs lying in bits and pieces on the ground. What's more, he saw that a massive hole had been burned into one of the walls where the air duct was, and that the metal around it looked as though it had been cut through by a powerful laser.

This led the observant Virion to one conclusion.

"She ripped off the restraining bolts," the nervous corporal informed.

Red eyes narrowing on the cell, the hulking tyrant suddenly spun around when the sounds of distant blaster fire echoed from another part of the captured vessel. Taking this as a sign of trouble, Virion and a squad of soldiers quickly marched to the scene of the disturbance, determined to investigate and pacify the problem. A little ways down the following corridor, they found two whole squads of their soldiers had been cut down, decapitated and blasted by an unknown assailant, who'd also left a trail of scorch marks along the walls, floor and ceiling.

Walking through the narrow terrain of smelted bodies, the lead scout pressed a button on the side of his helmet, producing a small hologram screen over his visor that immediately began crunching numbers in an alien language.

"The prisoner is headed for the escape pods!" he shouted in alarm.

Growling agitatedly, the tyrant shoved his way past the soldiers and marched over to one of the vessel's port-side windows. There, the warlord looked out just in time to see the frigate eject a small spherical craft, an Attack Ball, from its underside and out into space. The second the craft was loose, the pod fired its engines and shot off into hyperspace, leaving a vapor trail in its wake.

Virion's displeasure was all too obvious, even through his mask, as he turned and began marching back down the hall, closely followed by his squad of Shock Troopers. "Track that pod. Find out where it's headed and run it down!"

"Sir, what about the crew and inmates?" the lieutenant with the epaulettes walking beside the warlord asked.

"The prisoner that escaped is the only one I'm interested in. They are the key to completing my final plan," Virion growled before giving a dismissive wave, "Kill the rest."

"B-But my lord-"

The massive alien then promptly thrust his hand out and struck the ranking officer in the upper body with the back of his knuckles in a flicking motion. Instead of knocking the man into the wall like an ordinary blow from an alien of his size would, the instant Virion made contact with the insubordinate soldier he completely disintegrated the entire top half of his body without so much as a speck of dust, leaving only the man's lower torso and legs standing in place. Immediately upon atomizing the lieutenant's top half, the legs dropped to the ground in a useless heap, causing the rest of the soldiers nearby to freeze in terror.

Turning to the sergeant standing alongside the deceased officer, Virion sneered. "Kill the rest." The frightened grunt nodded and quickly relayed the Emperor's orders to the rest of the platoon, allowing the tyrant to march off with his hands behind his back and a hunch in his shoulders.

As the ruthless warlord stormed through the ship's hallways, barely registering to the horrified screams of prisoners and crew members being executed, and the sounds of multiple plasma rifles going off all around him, the tyrant snarled to himself.

"No matter where you go or how far you run, I will find you… Saiyan."

TO BE CONTINUED…