Dragon Ball Z 1. Opening: You Break It, You Buy It

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners. I just like to play with what he's created.

* * *

_Hey Mom, how is everything? Heh... what am I saying, you can read me like a book. 'So what happened?' right? Well, I got into a little mess when I got here into the city. I... accidentally helped this guy mug a girl. Wow, heh, that sounds bad but I promise it sounds a lot worse than it really is. She's fine, actually, but the point is I sort of... owe her a bit of money. Don't panic, it's... not a... huge amount; I mean it's a lot, but... I can take care of it. _

_I'm sending you this message because I got a job that's gonna help me pay this debt off really fast, but I'll be gone for a while. Heh, you know what kind of skills I have Mom, they're worth a lot around here, but I have to travel and I won't be in Ute very often. I don't think... I'm gonna have time to see you. I'll send you messages like this one when I can, if you want to you can send your own to the guys at the lab in Ute and have them hold them for me, I may get in occasionally to check them. Of course there are no guarantees, heh. _

_Don't worry about me Mom, I'll be fine. And you've got people that need you back home, like Mia and Terry, and I'm sure Neis will keep you company when he isn't driving you completely crazy, hahah. Hey, and I know about Lowell; you can't hide things from me as well as you think you can. He's a good guy Mom, and... he can understand where you're coming from. Take care of everything back home, I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can. _

_Bye Mom... I love you._

* * *

Illumination

Opening: You Break It, You Buy It

* * *

"I can help whomever is next?" the young teller with the brown hair called out. The next customer in line was a tall blonde haired woman with distressingly messy bangs and the rest of her hair tied up in a bun. The teller became nervous; something certainly seemed wrong with this woman. Her would be customer was paying attention and immediately stepped from the front of the queue in the lobby and walked over to the teller's counter.

The woman was wearing dark sunglasses, so the teller couldn't see her eyes. She also wore a dark jacket and she reached in her pocket for something. The teller hesitated; she kept a straight face but she was about to press the alarm button hidden under the counter when her customer pulled out an account card for the bank. The teller quickly backed her hand away from the alarm and smiled at her customer as she picked up the woman's card and ran it in her system.

In a few seconds her customer's accounts came up, and the teller's eyes widened slightly when she realized who the customer was. She couldn't be blamed though; she had never met this particular customer in person. "Thank you for your business Miss Solaris," she said with a warm smile. "What can I assist you with today?"

"I need to close my account," 'Ms Solaris' said rather flatly.

The teller almost panicked. Losing an account this big would be... horrific, to put it simply. "Oh no, is something wrong?" She was going to let the customer answer that question when she decided to tack on, "We can offer _very_ competitive rates for both short and long term investments, and—"

"No," Solaris cut in, "...thank you." She looked at the teller steadily for a moment before continuing, "I'm leaving the area and need to take all of my assets with me."

"We do offer a very robust and very secure online banking system that can be accessed real-time from even the farthest areas of the Republic," the teller started again. She had to do whatever she could to save this account, or she could be blamed for one of the biggest losses of business her bank had from a single person.

"No," Solaris cut in, this time beginning to become agitated. "I need," she stopped and started once more with an irritated sigh, "just close the account and load everything onto my card."

The teller's attitude dropped. "Yes Miss Solaris, we're very sorry to lose your business," she finished and looked at her terminal again and calculated the total amount of all of Solaris's accounts. She turned to her customer once more, "For this amount we'll need to split your total assets between four cards due to financial institution regulations. It'll just take a few moments," the teller's eyes fell and she set about her task. Her manager was going to have a heart attack when he learned about the account closing. "Before I begin, I just need you to confirm that we do have all of your accounts here and that we won't msis anything." The teller then pointed to the small display facing her customer.

The woman looked down to see several accounts listed, but she wasn't concerned with the details—just that the total amount was correct. When her eyes read the numbers _230, 463, 017_ she looked back up at the teller and nodded. That was indeed the correct amount.

* * *

Trunks took a deep breath before he stepped inside the gate. Immediately he felt the ground melt away from his feet and the air rush around him, blowing his long hair away from his face. Trunks closed his eyes; he hated to watch, it always made him feel sick. He held tight to the messenger bag draped around his shoulder, and wished it would be over soon. The jump gate always made him feel uneasy, when he was in it he couldn't tell which way was up and he definitely couldn't sense anything. It was like suddenly becoming blind and numb to the world. It was disconcerting, but thankfully it was quick.

When Trunks felt the ground come up and settle beneath his feet he let out the breath he had been holding. "Trunks!" he heard a friendly voice call from the other side of the gate. He opened his eyes and saw his friend Murtole through what looked like a waterfall. Trunks stepped through it, still expecting to be wet on the other side but coming out no different than when he entered.

"Hey, I didn't know Bulma was sending you!" Murtole exclaimed as he pulled the much taller Trunks into an embrace.

"Whoa, not so tight," Trunks groaned and the young scientist released him, "you know the jump gate makes me queasy."

"Oh, right," Murtole smiled guiltily. He pulled on his labcoat, straightening it out.

"Trunks, I think you must have grown taller since I saw you last," another man entered the room, this one appeared to be about Bulma's age.

"You say that every time Devan but I was full-grown when you first met me, remember?" Trunks replied sarcastically as the older man approached. When he reached Trunks they shook hands and Devan pulled Trunks into a light hug.

"So what's your mom need?" Devan asked with a smile. Trunks noticed that his salt-and-pepper hair looked a little thinner than the last time he had seen it, but he was still the tall and lanky middle-aged Bmyhadian he'd known for a year now. Trunks opened his mouth to speak but was stopped short when Devan spoke once more. "How'd I know?" he smirked. "Come on, it's Bulma we're talking about, and it's been a few years. I think I know your mother by now," he laughed lightly. 'A few years' was a typical Devan exaggeration, it had only been just over a year that they had first met.

"Yeah," Trunks laughed in response, "she needs a few tools, and she gave me a list to give you." He then reached into the brown messenger back slung over his right shoulder and pulled out a small piece of paper folded in half and handed it to Devan.

Devan unfolded the paper and read the list with interest. "Huh, what's she working on?"

"Don't ask me," Trunks laughed, "last time I went into the lab unannounced I almost got lit on fire."

Devan laughed heartily and shook his head with a smile. "So why'd you come instead of just sending a message?" Devan asked with his ever-present cool smile.

"Well, as much as I hate the jump gate," Trunks answered, "I wanted to get out of the house for a bit. Oh and mom gave me a grocery list, she wants me to pick up some things for her while I'm here. That's what this is for," he added and patted the brown messenger bag with his right hand.

"Awesome, let's go!" Murtole broke in once more.

Devan made a disapproving noise and shook his head, garnering the young man's attention. "Not until 5400, you've got work to do."

"Yes sir," Murtole smiled sadly as he headed back toward the lab.

Devan turned to Trunks. "Why don't you go do your shopping now," Devan motioned to the door with his head, "when you get back you can take Murtole out for a run in the city." He glanced back at the young scientist before he leaned in closer to Trunks to add, "The poor kid needs more of a social life."

"Sure," Trunks nodded. "I'll see you guys later," he waved to both of them before leaving the lab.

* * *

A man with auburn hair wearing a blue suit leaned against the outer wall of a chain of shops along a busy street in Ute. He was slouching, looking around and smiling at passersby; if he fit in or just looked like an idiot standing around then nobody would remember him. He knew how to get lost in plain sight, so to speak, when he was trailing someone. He laughed at a few teenagers who, while walking by, tripped over their own feet and after staggering for a few steps were able to recover. They glared at him, but what did he care. That was when the doors to the largest reserve bank in Ute opened across the street and his eyes drifted up to see if his target was leaving yet.

The man smirked to himself as he pushed off of the wall he was leaned back against and stood upright. "You're not getting away this time," he said to himself as he watched a blonde haired woman in a black jacket and sunglasses exit the bank and start walking down the street.

* * *

Trunks weaved in and out of the crowd of people in the outdoor market in downtown Ute as he searched for all of the items on his mother's list. Well, there were a few things he was going to grab for himself too. Mostly he and Bulma loved the different fruits that came from other worlds. They didn't look that different from what was found on Earth; they generally had the same size and shape of fruits on Earth but they were different on the outside or inside, or both. One of his favorites was a fruit called kuku, it was the size of a cantaloupe and the same color and texture on the outside, but on the inside was a blood red fruit that was a mixture of sour and sweet.

As Trunks shopped it was hard to believe that just over a year ago this all would have seemed like a dream. He, his mother, and their small group of friends were living out their lives in relative peace on Earth when a spaceship landed not far from Bulma's home, sending mother and son into a panic. They never knew anything good that came from space to Earth, unless it changed upon arrival. He remembered clearly that sense of dread as they watched these people approach who looked just like humans, in appearance and mannerisms.

The seventeen people who found Earth that day were a group of scientists, researchers, and explorers from a distant planet called Bmyhad. Their nation had a contract with some other interstellar nation to explore uncharted worlds at the end of their territory, and that was how they found Earth. They saw signs of civilization from space and decided to investigate. Bulma and Trunks were greatly concerned at first, but after spending three weeks getting to know the crew Bulma began to bond with the aliens. They were a lot like her, very curious about the way things worked as well as hard and fast practitioners of the scientific method.

The Bmyhadians were also humanitarians, and when they learned that Earth needed aid they got to work. Within a month they had constructed what they and Bulma jointly called a "jump gate," a small portal that would only transport people and items between the two locations. One was placed in the former Capsule Corporation headquarters, and the other was placed in a lab in the capital city of Bmyhad, Ute.

It wasn't so much that Earth needed food and clothing, they needed a new society. Bulma and the Bmyhadians worked diligently on bringing new technology to Earth to help usher in a new era. With more efficient electrical usage cities were starting to rebuild public transportation, and brand new water and sewage systems. Medicines were brought to Earth to help immunize children against diseases that had become rampant during and after the reign of the androids. After several months, Bulma and the foreign scientists, doctors, philosophers, and even some diplomats began working with the local government to implement their changes on a much broader spectrum. They kept things very quiet though, as the general public still held a fear of beings from worlds other than their own. The Bmyhadians were the unsung heroes of the restoration of Earth, and they didn't mind—they were just glad they could help.

Trunks had finished getting all the things he could outside. He opened up the list again and mentally checked off everything he had picked up. Only two things were left: some special insulated wire and a large portable battery. Those would be easy enough to pick up, he just needed to head into one of the electronics stores a few blocks away from the open-air market. He put the list back into the front right pocket of his jacket and headed on his way.

* * *

Admittedly, she would miss Ute. It was a nice city, large enough to serve as a safe haven, lawful enough that crime wasn't rampant, but still not secure enough to make her life hard. There was something almost... charming about the city. But charming wasn't quite a word in her vocabulary, so if she had to put it to words, she'd probably say that she had just grown too used to the scenery. But she'd been in Ute for almost two years, the longest she had ever kept up shop anywhere by far, and she felt it was time to move on before she was compromised—because it would only be a matter of time.

The sun shone down brightly as she walked to an intersection and stopped with the rest of the crowd and waited for her turn to cross. She was lost in her thoughts, something that rarely happened when she felt a hand on her left shoulder. Her head shot around to see who would dare lay a hand on her, and when she saw a face all too familiar her eyes shot open wide.

"Been a long time since we've seen each other, hasn't it?" the auburn haired man asked with that devilish grin of his. He looked exactly the same as the last time she had seen him, and it unnerved her. Especially since she had long thought he had died.

"Dax," she said almost breathlessly. If she looked like she had seen a ghost, it was because indeed she had.

"We need to talk," he said, his grin fading and his eyes indicating a level of seriousness from him that let her know this was no social call—and even if it was, what would she say?

The blonde haired woman turned to face her old comrade. She looked left past him and down the street, then motioned her head in that direction—it was less crowded than the corner they were standing at. "Over there," she said to confirm that he'd gotten her message.

He smiled with that same unnerving smirk and released her shoulder. "Lead the way," he said and stepped backward and to the side, out of her way.

After they had walked halfway down the city block and stood near a wall between two storefronts, the woman stopped and turned around to face him. "Dax," she started but he cut her off.

"You look good, Ar," he said with a wistful look to his face. "I wish I could say this was a good visit."

'Ar' shook her head. "What are you doing?" To a bystander, it sounded like a cold demand, but Dax knew better. "I know that uniform," she added flatly and motioned toward his attire.

"I don't have time to talk about that," Dax said almost sorrowfully. "It was just something I had to do to keep a promise to a friend." He looked like he wanted to say more, but merely shook his head and continued. "Look, I'm not here to talk about me, I'm here to talk about money." He looked at Ar and she stared blankly back at him—well, only blankly because her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. But he could feel her glaring at him.

She stayed silent so he decided to start talking. "A few months ago you took it upon yourself to destroy some real estate that belongs to my employers." He paused a moment and she shifted her weight on her feet, a move that made him nervous. "They're looking for restitution, Armada."

Armada took a step forward and leaned in close to his face. "I can't believe you'd work for a group like that after everything we went through back then," she spat angrily. "As for your employer's 'restitution,'" she mocked the word, "tell them to go fuck themselves." With that said she moved to the side of Dax and walked past him.

He turned and shouted after her, "I told them that you're nothing to be trifled with," he paused when she stopped around six feet away from him, her back still facing him. "That they'd save themselves money and resources if we just approached you peacefully first." He waited for some kind of reaction but she stood stone still, not that it was unusual for her, even after not seeing her for nearly a decade. She started walking again and Dax called out once more, "They'll come after you if you don't pay them."

Armada stopped walking again and turned her body slightly to look back at Dax. "Do you think I'm afraid of them?" she asked with a steely edge to her voice.

Dax glared back at her for a moment before responding. "You should be." Silence sat between them for a moment, then Armada turned her back and started walking away for the third time. "They're going to kill you!" Dax shouted at her. "Don't you understand that?!"

If that was how it was going to be, then so be it. Armada wasn't afraid of death; no, not even close. Threats of Rieve coming after her meant nothing; she expected this would happen after she destroyed that factory. What she _didn't_ expect was Dax—she didn't even think he was alive. She thought he died when she last saw him over twenty years ago.

Angered by his outburst, she spun around and opened her mouth to tell Dax to go fuck himself with his employer when he came upon her in a rush. She wasn't ready for the uppercut to her stomach that knocked the wind out of her, and she was embarrassed and angry with herself for falling for such a stupid trick. It was like watching everything in slow motion as Dax's hands reached into her jacket pocket and he pulled out four bank cards. Armada's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, but before she could regain her breath to act, Dax shoved her to the ground and ran off into the crowd.

In a few seconds Armada scrambled to her feet and took off on foot after him. They were in downtown Ute, in the shopping district in the middle of the day. The crowds were thick and she could barely keep up between dodging people. She cursed Dax in her mind as she sprinted after him, he probably knew just as well as she did that they couldn't fly or do anything to attract attention. He was a thief right now and she couldn't bring herself to the attention of the authorities since she was wanted in several dozen countries around the Federation Alliance and would more than likely be in the local police database. They might not have a picture or description of her, but she couldn't risk it—and risk letting two hundred and thirty million _beta_ leave in someone else's hands.

* * *

Dax ran, weaving in and out of people on the streets and sidewalks of Ute. Armada did her best to follow, but the sea of people they were running through made it difficult since she had to move around them. It was then that she noticed he started using his speed to almost jump from one open space to the next. Armada growled and did the same—she couldn't let him get away, no matter what.

Dax knew Armada was hot on his trail so he looked for any way to possibly slow her down. He saw a guy a bit taller than the average Bmyhadian up ahead and decided to go for it. He appeared just behind the violet-haired man and grabbed his right arm. "Help, help me!" Dax cried, plastering on the most panicked face he could manage.

"Wh-what?" Trunks took a step back from the man that suddenly grabbed him.

"My ex-wife, she's trying to kill me!" the man screamed. He had strange messy reddish-brown hair and wore some blue uniform, like he worked in an office or something. Trunks looked up as the man pointed behind himself to see a blonde woman with sunglasses on sprinting to their location.

"Ahhh!" the young man in the blue uniform screamed as he ran past Trunks and pushed the Earthling toward the woman chasing him. Trunks stumbled for a second but immediately caught the woman by her arms as she nearly ran him over.

Dax smirked and glanced behind himself to see Armada run right into the Samaritan. _Have fun with that one, Ar_, he laughed to himself as he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

"What are you doing; let me go!" the woman screamed and pushed forward on Trunks, breaking her right arm free from the grasp of his left hand. Shock flashed across Trunks's face as he realized she wasn't the average Bmyhadian, she had some power in her to push him like that and he felt her ki flare ever so slightly when she did.

Apparently the woman realized this too, because her sunglasses slid down her face just enough for Trunks to see the top half of her eyes and read the emotion on her face as well. She pulled her left arm again but Trunks held tight. "Police!" he yelled in the middle of the crowd, "this woman is trying to kill her ex-husband!"

"What?" the woman immediately stopped struggling. "Is that what he said to you?!" she shouted her question. From the look on Trunks's face he guessed that she figured it out. "That guy just robbed me!" she yelled and clenched her teeth. "Now let _go!_" she surged forward with a punch from her right hand aimed directly at Trunks's face.

Trunks was surprised, she came at him with a speed he hadn't seen in a few years. He brought his right hand up and caught her fist in it just before it hit his left cheek, but the force of her punch and his shock pushed him backward and the pair bumped into an older woman before they both fell to the pavement. Bystanders started to scream and someone helped the older woman from falling.

The blond haired woman was leaning forward over Trunks, and she brought her face down to within two inches of his. "Let go of me before I kill you," she said deliberately and charged up her energy in her fist that was captured in Trunks's hand. Before he could say anything someone screamed.

"There, those two! It's them!"

Both fighters turned to see Utian police headed straight for them. The blond haired woman leapt up away from Trunks's grasp and ran around a corner. Two officers chased her and when they reached the edge of the building they stopped. "Where'd she go…?" one said while they both appeared dumbfounded.

Trunks saw three Utian bank cards lying on the ground just next to his left hip and quickly brushed the cards under his body. "What's going on here?" one of the officers demanded of Trunks.

"I'm terribly sorry," he put on his best good-boy voice, "she ran into me and I was trying to stop her."

The officer who spoke before glared at Trunks suspiciously before responding. "Get out of here. If I see your face again today you're going to jail for public disturbance."

"Yes sir," Trunks nodded as the two officers turned and left. He stood up slowly and pulled the three bank cards into his left hand. He picked up the messenger bag full of groceries on his right and discretely slid the bank cards into the left pocket of his jacket. He started walking in the direction he was originally headed; he still needed to get a few things for his mother before he returned to the lab.

* * *

Trunks sat eating a piece of fruit in the lounge with Murtole after he finished telling his story.

"So she dropped these bank cards?" Murtole said, holding them up in his hand. There were two completely black cards and one blue card.

"I guess so; nobody else tried to pick anything up and they're not mine," Trunks added as he took another bite of fruit.

"Well let's see how much is on here," Murtole laughed as he turned around in his chair. He picked up a laptop from the table in front of him and inserted one of the black cards into the card reader on the side. He started to read what was on the card and his face looked perplexed.

"What is it?" Trunks asked as he moved to sit on the armrest of Murtole's chair and get a closer look at the laptop screen.

"One beta," Murtole looked up at him with a disbelieving scowl. "Bank cards like this require a minimum balance of fifty beta. To put one on this card is just… stupid. You'd end up _paying_ several beta each day you're under the minimum."

"Well maybe after her last purchase there was only one beta left," Trunks supplied.

"That's possible," Murtole said as he pulled the card out of his laptop and replaced it with the second black card, "but there was no fraction of a beta, just one whole single beta."

Trunks watched as the second card's account information was displayed, it too had only one and exactly one beta on it. "Man, this is too weird," Murtole said as he pulled the card out. He stuck the blue card in and waited for the information to pop up. "Let me guess," he said while he waited. The amount showed up and he said immediately, "One beta. What the hell?" he asked in annoyance and moved to take the blue bank card out.

"Wait, what's that?" Trunks asked between a mouthful of food. He pointed to a small yellow warning icon that had appeared in the corner of the taskbar. Murtole clicked on it and a black screen popped up, slowly revealing words on the screen.

Murtole read. "Contracts… large and small, professional expertise in all required fields, contact 08004562-A92-KKR4." Murtole looked at the screen in confusion a moment before he turned to Trunks to speak. "It sounds like… a business card." Mutole paused. "Why would you hide your job ad on a nearly empty bank card?"

Trunks grimaced, "When you've got something to hide."

* * *

Armada leaned back lazily on the bench she was sitting on in the park just north of downtown Ute. She had her eyes closed but she could feel the sun hitting her face and it was kind of nice; she hadn't had much time lately to just go outside and enjoy the weather. She opened her eyes when the cell phone in her right hand rang. She casually brought it up to the side of her face and answered. "Yeah?"

"_Got the trace,"_ a male voice said on the other end. _"It's definitely coming from the ministry,"_ he finished.

"Thanks," Armada sad flatly before hanging up the phone. She stood from the park bench and looked at the building across the street she was scoping out from the park. Her eyes narrowed. _Dax, I'm not as stupid as you'd like to think._

* * *

Late that evening, Murtole wandered from the lab to the kitchen for another pot of coffee. Bulma had given it to him last time she came through the jump gate and he couldn't get enough of the stuff. The taste wasn't that great but it helped him stay up late on nights like these when he was working into the early hours of the morning.

Murtole yawned as he finished filling his mug. He picked up the cup and turned around but was immediately stopped by a pair of strong hands grabbing him, one covering his mouth and the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

The young scientist dropped his mug of coffee which it the floor with a dull thud, spilling the liquid within all over the kitchen floor. His eyes widened in shock as a pair of dark blue eyes stared at him from underneath messy blond bangs. "Scream and you're dead," he heard the harsh voice of a woman whisper to him. Murtole nodded in her grip and she let go of his mouth.

"Where are they?" she asked in hushed tones, the hand on the back of his neck holding him tight.

"Where's w-what?" Murtole stuttered, scared out of his mind.

"The bank cards!" she glared at him angrily.

"They're at my desk in the lab," Murtole shook as he spoke.

"Did Dax put you up to this?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what you're talking about; my friend found the cards on the street, that's all," Murtole shook in her grasp.

She must have believed him because her grip on him loosened as she continued to stare in his eyes. Murtole thought he saw a flash of understanding there, and made no attempt to move yet. He thought he saw something move in the shadows behind the woman and his eyes glanced over her right shoulder.

"Let him go now."

Still holding tight to Murtole, the woman spun around to find the same man from earlier that day standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "You…!" her eyes widened in shock before they narrowed again in anger. "This is a set-up!" she turned her attention back to Murtole and pulled him against her violently. She held his back to her chest, her left arm clenched around his collarbone, and her right hand up by his neck. Murtole felt a heat emanating from her right hand and noticed a white light in the room.

Trunks saw the woman charge a ki blast in her right hand up to Murtole's neck. "Let him go, he has nothing to do with this!" Trunks shouted at her, angered she would take a hostage.

"It was all part of Dax's plan, wasn't it?!" she yelled at Trunks. "Well you stole from the wrong woman," her voice lowered to a menacing treble.

"It's me you want, right?" Trunks started, doing whatever he could to get his scared friend out of harm's way. "Let him go, he had nothing to do with this."

The woman reluctantly released Murtole, and he fumbled away from her before he tripped over a chair and fell to the floor in the kitchen. He watched his friend Trunks stare down this intruder. What the hell was going on?

Trunks now noticed she looked completely different from when he had last seen her. She was wearing some type of black and dark blue armor that made her hard to see in the dark. The only things uncovered were her head and the very tips of her fingers.

"I don't know who Dax is," Trunks finally spoke, "but I'm sorry for what happened today. I made a mistake."

"You're sorry?" she spat. "I had just cleared all my bank accounts in this country, I was going to leave. Dax… he got away with over 230 million beta. That was everything I had," she ground out through clenched teeth. Trunks noticed her fists clench unconsciously. "And you're sorry," she added again, her eyes showing Trunks just how angry and hurt she was.

Trunks was shocked though he didn't let his face show it. _230 million beta…? Kami, what the hell does this woman do?_ he thought with concern.

"As much as I'd like to kill you, I have a better idea," the woman spoke again, her features relaxing slightly. "You'll work for me, and work off your debt."

"What?" Trunks was taken aback. "How do you expect me to earn that much money?"

"You won't work it all off," she replied in a much calmer tone. "But enough so that I'm satisfied."

"What if I refuse?" Trunks asked with a scowl.

He saw her eyes glance around the room and briefly over Murtole once again. "Then I'll have to take whatever I can find," she finished, her eyes settling on his.

Trunks thought over his options. He couldn't let her attack Murtole or the others over something he did. But it was an honest mistake; he didn't mean to help the guy who robbed her. Sure he felt guilty about it but shouldn't she be chasing him down instead of Trunks? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was all. However, he couldn't risk the lives of the Bmyhadians in the lab nor the location of his home world and most importantly, his mother.

"How do you expect me to help you?" Trunks asked with a hardened gaze.

She smirked at him. "You're just like me, otherwise you wouldn't have caught my punch in the first place." She stood upright and walked over to Trunks, the animosity dissipating from her face. "I'm Armada."

"Trunks," the Earthling replied.

"Well Trunks," Armada raised an eyebrow at him and still had that smirk on her face, "get your things, work starts now."

* * *

Trunks stepped out of the comm. room at the lab and picked up his bag on the floor. Murtole watched him with worry while Devan stared at the unwelcome stranger in the doorway to the lab. Trunks walked up to Murtole and gave him a half-hearted smile. His younger friend pulled him into a hug and Trunks's features eased a little.

Trunks looked over to Devan as Murtole released him, the head scientist at the lab gave Trunks an almost disapproving look. Trunks knew it was because Devan was upset at how things turned out, but Trunks couldn't let things get out of hand. Besides, Devan didn't know Trunks's real strength; he wasn't worried about taking care of himself. He just wanted them to stay safe.

He turned to face Armada who was standing in the doorway to the lab. She nodded her head at Trunks and turned around, walking out of the lab. He turned around and gave a weak smile to his friends before following after her. He wasn't sure what he got himself into, but he was certain he'd get out of it soon enough.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Silvia


	2. Mission 01: Corporate Espionage

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners. I just like to play with what he's created.

* * *

Trunks walked behind Armada as she led them to the end of one of the piers in Ute. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going, considering all that he could see were warehouses, but he remained silent for the time being. He noticed her her pick up her pace and jog toward a building before she stopped at the door. He followed suit.

She stopped in front of the door to the complex and entered a number quickly into the keypad. Trunks tried to watch but he only caught the first six of eleven or twelve digits. The door opened and she walked inside, Trunks right behind her.

"Whoa," Trunks stopped just inside the door to see that the warehouse was occupied by a large spacecraft.

Armada turned to face him. "It's my ship, and because I'm broke I can't buy any fuel to leave this damn place," she added matter-of-factly. She turned away from him and flew up to the side of the ship. "We'll be working here in Ute until I can get some fuel."

Trunks stood and watched her fly up to the ship. She had a lot more control over her ki than she let on, he could tell now because she wasn't so guarded about it. He wasn't worried; if it came down to it he figured he was stronger than her. He didn't want to just fight his way out of this, though—he did make a mistake and he felt like he owed her. He'd rather find some way to work out his leaving peacefully than just flee and cause his friends in Ute undue harm in the process.

Trunks flew up to the ship after her, and watched as Armada punched another code into a keypad outside the door to the ship. It slid open and he followed her inside, she immediately headed to the right in the hall. Trunks stopped and watched her, unsure of what to do and she turned in the air to face him. "It's not huge, you'll figure it out," she said before disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall.

Trunks took a guess and headed left. He passed a small room with a large monitor set up on one wall and guessed it was the ship's comm room. He kept going and found three doors at the end of the hall, all of them open. He glanced inside; each was a small barracks with three beds. Two were untouched, and one had a few things lying around in the room, so he figured out which one of the three was occupied. Trunks settled into the room to the left of the one that was taken and set his bag with his few things from the lab at Ute on one of the beds. He glanced around and found a bathroom attached to the room and guessed each room probably had the same.

_Kind of lonely_, Trunks thought as he walked out of the barracks. _Nine beds and only one person here... well two now I suppose_. At the end of the hall where Armada disappeared he found the bridge, and Armada was sitting at the console in the middle of the others, typing away at the keys furiously.

* * *

Illumination

Mission 01: Corporate Espionage

* * *

Trunks walked up behind Armada where she sat and looked up at the monitor in front of her. She was reading a message that appeared to be an offer for some work. "What's up?" Trunks asked as she read.

"We've got a job," she said flatly and started to type up a quick reply. She sent it off before Trunks could say anything else and she turned her chair around to face him—it swiveled in place. "Nothing too hard to start," she said and stood up. Trunks instinctively backed up a few steps so she had room to walk away. Instead she stayed put where she was and looked to him as she continued.

"We're going to break into a corporate office building in another city tonight to retrieve some internal documents," she stated flatly.

"No qualms about breaking the law," Trunks added sardonically as he watched Armada move past him toward another doorway in the bridge, leading to areas unknown to him.

She stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. "It wouldn't be necessary if there was a place in this universe for old soldiers like me, but there isn't," she said rather calmly. She paused for a moment before she spoke again. "Feel free to look around the ship, I'll be down in the engines cleaning the fuel lines." She turned away and walked off again. "Can't get fuel yet so I might as well clean them now," she threw out over her shoulder as she walked away.

Trunks watched her turn out of his sight down the hallway and decided to follow down the corridor himself to see what was on this side of the ship. Like she said, he needed to get a grasp on where everything was. The first thing he saw was through a door on his right, what appeared to be a lounge or sitting room. There was a table in the corner with wrap-around seating and more seating on the wall across from it. From both areas one could view the monitor on the wall closest to where Trunks entered, and facing the bridge.

He saw another door leading through the break where the seating was and decided to continue. He soon found himself in the ship's kitchen, or more aptly the galley as he thought about it. He took a moment to peek in the cabinets and refrigerator to find a lot of stuff he recognized as Bmyhadian and a few things he didn't.

Trunks left the galley and stopped in the corridor; on the wall opposite the side with the galley and lounge was a safe on the wall and what appeared to be a closet next to it. Both had keypads so he didn't bother with them for now. Just after the galley he found the infirmary, with three beds and a large steel center island. He didn't bother to look through the storage in there; there were still a lot of medical supplies in the lab he didn't recognize so he didn't want to bother with anything until he could ask questions.

Across from the infirmary there was nothing of note, and Trunks figured it was due to the barracks on the other side. At the end of the hall parallel to this one the three rooms were on each side of the hall with one in the middle reaching off the end, which was now Trunks's room. He glanced to the end of the hall he was in to see a set of stairs heading down. He walked about halfway down the stairs to see what looked like a cargo bay and more areas beyond it. He heard noise in the distance and assumed that the rest was access to engines and other systems in case any repairs were required.

He turned and headed back to his room; he wanted to finish settling in. It was still night, and only a few hours earlier had Armada broken into the lab and conscripted Trunks into helping her with her business, exactly whatever it was. So if they were going to bust into some office building tonight, she meant after the rest of the day they were currently on. It was going to be a while so he thought he should finish putting his things away and get some rest; who knew how long this operation was going to take.

* * *

"You ready?" Trunks heard Armada call down the hall to his barracks for him.

"Yeah," he replied as he finished putting his jacket on and walked out the door to his room and down the hall to meet her at the door to the ship.

She was dressed in her armor, no surprise there, but he was taken back by the look on her face when she saw him. "Seriously?" she asked with an irritated visage.

"What?" Trunks asked defensively. He was wearing a black tank top with his dark blue denim jacket over it, and long grey pants that fell to cover his orange boots. He certainly didn't see what the problem was.

Armada let out annoyed breath as she looked him up and down. "I don't have anything for you and there's no time to worry about it for now," she said and reached over to open the ship's door. She flew out and Trunks followed; a few seconds later when they hit the ground at the door to the warehouse he heard the ship door close behind them.

The pair walked outside and Armada stopped on the sidewalk, facing the street. Trunks glanced left and right as he slowly moved to her side. "So now what?"

Armada pulled a small piece of the navy alloy from her belt and clicked a button on it. A black car from down the street flashed its headlights, pulled out into the street and drove to their location and parked. She glanced to her left at him. "We drive." She put the piece of metal back in its spot on her belt and walked around to the left side of the car. Trunks followed her lead and opened the door and got in on the passenger side. He recognized Bmyhadian cars but had no idea she had one. Then again, it wasn't surprising if she was living here.

Once inside and buckled up, Armada started driving and Trunks looked out the side rear-view mirror. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. If they were leaving now he supposed their trip might be longer than he expected. "So," he asked and turned to glance at Armada, "how long 'till we get there?"

She didn't bother to take her eyes off the road as she slowed and made a left turn. "The office we're breaking into is in another city about two hundred kilometers away," she stated casually. "It'll be well after dark when we get there."

Trunks nodded and turned to look out the window and watch the Utian scenery pass by. He didn't mind the drive; he'd get to see what was outside the city. He'd never left before so the prospect was interesting. He just hoped that she had a plan for when they arrived.

* * *

Several hours after nightfall, the two mercenaries stood beside the black car they took to the city of Mensa and watched the building they were targeting. Armada was looking through a pair of binoculars when she lowered them and handed them to Trunks. "The stragglers are leaving," she nodded toward the building.

He took the binoculars and looked up to the seventeenth floor of the highrise building. He could see inside the windows with the binoculars special glare reduction and did indeed see the last few employees leaving the building. "They don't have a night shift?" Trunks asked as he brought the binoculars down from his eyes and handed them back to Armada.

She took the binoculars and hooked them onto the side of her belt. "They usually have light security and a late shift of researchers but they're all leaving for the night for the building to undergo a routine fumigation." She walked around to the rear of the car and opened the trunk.

"If they're fumigating then how the hell are we supposed to get in?" Trunks asked as he turned to follow her movements.

"These," she lifted the hood high enough so he could see inside. He looked over to find two sets of goggles, small tanks and masks.

* * *

With their goggles and masks in place, and the long black tubes of oxygen strapped to their right thighs, the pair was ready to enter the building. Trunks glanced at his watch to see it was sometime after midnight, and the fumigation had started about two hours earlier, shortly after everyone left the building. Armada kicked open a metal door on the side of the building facing the alley and the pair moved in. She turned around and closed the door behind them, and proceeded to use her energy to melt the metal of the lock so the door wouldn't open. "We don't need anyone following us," she said before walking farther into the building.

The pair entered in the back area of a kitchen of a restaurant on the ground floor of the building. After walking through the kitchen and the front of the restaurant they reached the center of the skyscraper. The middle square of the building was empty on each floor all the way to the top, where dim light from the surrounding city poured in through a skylight. Armada nodded to Trunks before she flew up and he followed suit.

Once they reached the seventeenth floor they moved over the center railing and landed on the floor. Armada glanced left and right to get a bearing on exactly where they were. "This way," she said softly and started walking down the hall to their left. She followed the numbers on office doors until she found their destination. She tried to open the door but found it locked with another keypad. Before Trunks could say anything she punched the keypad, crushing it into the wall. The door slid open in response and she walked in.

Inside they found what appeared to be a larger office. Armada sat at one of the terminals in the room and booted it up. She quickly typed in a username and password and waited for the system to load.

"How do you know that?" Trunks asked as he stood over her shoulder and watched.

"The client gave me the information needed to complete the mission; standard procedure," she said calmly as the system loaded. She reached down and pulled a small data chip from her belt and inserted it into the computer next to the monitor. She navigated a few directories before she found the files she was searching for and began to copy them over.

"That's it?" Trunks asked. "Seems too easy," he said as he stood upright.

"Not quite," Armada spoke as the files finished copying and she pulled the data chip out before she had the system log out. She turned and stood, and put the data chip back into a compartment on her belt. "Now we need to go downstairs to the basement clean room and get the physical files we need."

Just as the pair went to leave, Trunks sensed an energy signature. He turned to look but felt it soaring toward them at an incredible speed. "Get down!" he shouted and threw himself and Armada to the ground. Just as they hit the floor the wall behind them exploded and sent debris flying everywhere.

Armada grimaced and jumped up to her knees. She crawled forward to kneel behind the area of wall in front of them that hadn't been destroyed. Trunks scrambled up and followed her. "I don't sense anything," she whispered to him, the mask distorting her voice. The dust behind them began to settle and the pair sat in silence, unmoving.

Trunks sat and listened. He couldn't risk looking around their current cover, and he couldn't smell anything, so he relied on the last sense available to him. He heard a footstep but before he could react Armada stood up high enough to see over their cover and fire a return shot. All was silent for a few seconds before a barrage of energy was shot at them. Both fighters flew low to the ground to the end of the room in an attempt to stay in cover.

The pair huddled in a corner as the debris and dust settled over where they just were. It was all destroyed with shrapnel of the metal structure in the walls of the building littered about. Trunks was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Armada on his left. He looked to her and her eyes met his. "Stay here," she whispered. She moved forward and he grabbed her right arm with his right hand.

She glared at him. "Don't move," she whispered once more and jerked her arm free of his. Before he could protest she flew toward the other end of the room, much faster than he'd thought her capable of. In the wake of her flight whoever was attacking them fired a multitude of shots and more explosions rang out. He wanted to yell for her but knew it wasn't in either of their interests at the moment.

This time there was a lot more debris in the air so Trunks couldn't see if Armada was okay, though he didn't see any blood so that was a start. "Well, we expected a bit more from you," Trunks heard a male voice call out. It too was distorted from the man speaking wearing a mask, and Trunks crept up until he could see above the overturned desk and piece of wall he was hiding behind to take a glance at their assailants.

He saw three men, the one in the middle slowly walking toward Armada's position—or where Trunks assumed she ended up since he still couldn't see clearly to the other end of the office. "Expect more from me?" he heard his comrade spit back. "You dipshits set off the alarms." Trunks didn't hear any alarms but it made sense—they never disabled any on their way in, and they were probably silent anyway. "Just wait until Mensa PD gets here," she added.

"Hah," the man in the center kept moving toward her and charged a blast of energy around his right fist. "Don't make me laugh. You think we'd walk in here unprepared? You were the one who didn't expect us."

_Sounds like they didn't see me, _Trunks thought. He didn't bank on it though, and kept his head down as far as he could while still being able to see the three men. The two in the back started to move forward behind the one who was talking. "I don't know exactly how stupid you are," he looked to the direction of Armada's voice, "just that you are stupid." The dust cleared a bit and he could see her huddled behind a partial wall, blood dripping from her right elbow.

"Come on out now," the man spoke as he sauntered closer. Trunks could make out his face now as he approached, and his mind ran with possible tactics to get out of this situation. From what he had seen so far, he figured he was still a lot stronger than their assailants, but too much energy dispersed in the area could make the building structurally weak and collapse—not just on them, but anyone else in the city around the building. He dismissed the idea with too many casualties.

He could fly forward to fight them off hand-to-hand, but then he didn't know if they would end up destroying the building. He wasn't sure how strong Armada was to leave her to defend herself. _Damn_ he cursed mentally.

"We don't want to have to force you out, but we will if necessary," the man said as he looked behind a few overturned desks and chairs and continued walking toward Armada's general direction.

"You wouldn't dare," Armada shouted back. She started inching her way from the wall she was backed up against and closer to Trunks, though not by much considering there was at least fifty feet between them. "You wouldn't make it out of here alive," she scoffed at them.

"You don't know that," he responded, still moving forward with the search. "We're stupid, remember?"

Armada stopped when she reached the end of the pile of debris, or rather the pile got too short for her to hide behind. She pulled something from her belt and looked over to Trunks. Without saying anything she made a throwing motion, then pretended to cover her head and eyes. He wasn't sure what she was about to do but he nodded in understanding.

She leaned forward a bit and threw the tiny object in her hand backwards with her right arm, and it landed at the foot of the talkative man. "What the hell is this?" he said in irritation and bent down to pick it up. Armada ducked her head and used her arms to cover her eyes, and Trunks did the same. No sooner had he closed his eyes, he saw a flash of bright light through his eyelids. _Flash grenade?_ He thought as he turned and looked to his comrade. She was gone from her spot and he took that as the sign to go for it.

"Shit!" one of the men who had yet to speak cursed as he rubbed at his eyes. Trunks flew straight for him but at the last second the man sloppily dodged around him. Trunks stopped and turned to see the third man fire a ki blast at him, which he easily swatted away with his left forearm. The energy shot up into the higher floors of the building, blasting through several floors before he heard it explode.

Before Trunks could think the same man flew at him and started swinging. Trunks easily dodged his attacks as he realized this man hadn't been blinded by the flashbang; maybe he ducked away in time. It didn't matter because he was too slow for the Earthling who dodged a right roundhouse punch before he launched his own assault. Trunks started with a knee to the man's gut, then several hard punches to face before a second kick to send him flying away into a wall.

"Alex!"

Trunks turned to the sound of the scream to see the darker-skinned man of the three fire a blast at him. He quickly dodged out of the way and came up on his attacker to deal a lethal uppercut when he dodged Trunks far faster than he anticipated. Trunks's eyes widened in shock as he felt a harsh kick to his back, across his shoulder blades which sent him falling forward to the floor. He caught himself on hands and knees in time to glance behind himself and fly out of the way of another energy blast, this one leaving a hole in the floor.

"You're gonna make the whole building collapse!" Trunks shouted as he flew. He found another room that was mostly in tact and ducked inside, settling on the floor on his haunches ready to move if he needed to. Trunks sat silent and listened; he didn't hear anything going on. Where did his comrade go, and the guy who was firing at them in the first place?

"Alex, you okay?" the dark skinned fighter asked as he helped his comrade up.

"Yeah," the guy wiped at blood oozing from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. When he was attacked his mask had been destroyed, but it appeared the fumigation wasn't affecting him. "He's fast, Royce; definitely not your average fighter."

"I'm fast too," Royce replied as Alex took a breath and dusted himself off. Before either party could say anything else, something crashed through the ceiling above and landed right next to them. They turned to see a body rise up to its knees from the rubble.

"Get her!" they heard their comrade yell from above and their heads snapped back down to see the woman they were after jump up from the debris and tackle them both to the ground. Before they could react she jumped up from their bodies and flew off to another corner of the room.

Trunks was about to make another move when Armada flew around a corner and knelt next to him. "You okay?" she asked through heavy breaths.

"I'm fine, what about you?" Trunks asked as he saw that now she had blood smeared under her chin in addition to the blood oozing from her the inside of her right elbow.

"Nothing serious," she waved him off with her right hand, which appeared to be moving fine.

"One of them avoided the flash, but the other two are still feeling it," she said with a quick glance in the direction of their attackers. "The loudmouth is injured, so I'll take him and the one who can still see fine, if you get the third guy," Armada said and swallowed hard.

"No way," Trunks said, "I'll take the quiet two and you get their leader," he stated rather than suggested.

Armada shook her head. "Don't get yourself killed."

"Same to you," Trunks smirked at her. The two then immediately took off for their targets, causing the room they left from to crumble under the pressure of their launch.

Trunks was headed for the one he figured was Alex, who was wearing a blue shirt. Right before he got there the dark skinned guy—Royce, he assumed—appeared in front of him and smirked as he fired a giant blast of energy. Trunks didn't have time to dodge so he had to return fire and deflect as much of the shot as he could.

In the ensuing explosion, Armada lifted her arms to block debris from hitting her face only to find the guy in the blue shirt slam into her and fly her into and through several office walls. He finally stopped when they reached the last room and let Armada fall to the floor and skid to a stop in front of the wall of windows on the edge of the building. She went to get up and he was on her, hands around her throat.

"Sorry you gotta die," Alex said through gritted teeth and heavy breaths. Armada had her hands on his but as she lost oxygen she was losing the strength to pull him off. "It's just my job." She continued to struggled with pulling his hands from her throat when she charged energy blasts into both hands which blew the pair apart.

"You bitch!" Alex screamed as he shook his arms; the places where her hands had grasped his forearms were burnt and bleeding. Armada coughed, her hands were burnt and bloody too but now she could breathe. He charged at her again and Armada caught his fists in her hands. She crushed them in her fists before turning to fling him out the windows behind her.

Alex grabbed her wrists when she released his fists and the pair tumbled through the glass and outside the building. Armada pushed her right elbow into his neck under his chin to get him to let go of her, and Alex coughed and released his left hand. She then flew them down toward to the ground with the intent to slam him into the asphalt below.

Armada only had a few more seconds to pry his right hand from her arm, and focused on pushing into his throat more. Alex felt his hand starting to lose its grip, so he pulled a six-inch knife from his left side with his left hand and jammed it into Armada's back right above the scapula. At thirty feet before ground impact Armada stopped and let Alex's body keep going due to his momentum. The knife wasn't in her skin deep and his hand didn't let it go, so the knife dragged over her shoulder and up the right side of her neck before it left her body. He did keep going and hit the ground in a loud boom, breaking up the asphalt around him and creating a cloud of dirt obscuring him from view. Armada took a deep breath and winced as her right hand went up to cover the slice in her neck.

* * *

After the explosion in front of him, Trunks had a few cuts on his face and hands but had taken almost no damage. Royce, on the other hand, had been blown backward into a wall and was bleeding profusely from his forehead. He breathed heavily and his eyes were half closed due to the blood seeping into them. Trunks walked up to him. "I don't want to kill you," he said with sincerity, "so stay down and I won't have to."

Royce seemed to have conceded defeat because he lowered his head and didn't reply. "Lyle won't give up so easily," he said lowly after a moment. Trunks was about to ask who Lyle was when he was blindsided from his right with a heavy hit. The Earthling was sent hurtling to his left and after he crashed through two office walls Trunks stopped himself in mid-air and turned to his right. The third man, the one who did all the talking earlier, whom Trunks now assumed was Lyle, flew straight at him. Trunks caught Lyle's hands in his own and the pair grappled.

"Where are the files?" the man asked through gritted teeth as the pair struggled.

"If you didn't destroy everything you could have made your own copy," Trunks spat back before he lunged forward and headbutted Lyle square between the eyes. The force of the blow dazed Lyle for a moment for him to both let go of Trunks and float unguarded for just an instant, and that was all Trunks needed.

Trunks jammed his right elbow into Lyle's chest, sending him flying backward. Before Lyle hit any debris, Trunks appeared behind him and slammed his left forearm into Lyle's back, effectively stopping his motion. Trunks then slammed his forearm down across Lyle's shoulders and he plunged face-first into the floor, though only enough to have it crack and buckle beneath him. He rolled over and as soon as he did he found a foot pressed to his throat. He looked up at Trunks to see he had injured his opponent, as Trunks had a cut bleeding down the left side of his face, the blood running steady down his face, under his jaw and down his neck until it disappeared underneath his jacket.

Trunks pressed a tiny bit harder on Lyle's throat and the man couldn't breathe. He couldn't find the strength to lift his arms in defense, and waited for the stronger man to finish him off. Armada floated over to Trunks's side, clutching the right side of her neck as blood spilled over her fingers and down her armor.

"You lost," the woman said through angered eyes. "Don't follow us or we'll kill you." Trunks released his foot on Lyle's throat and the injured man coughed and wheezed for air. Armada nodded to Trunks and the pair flew away.

When the pair exited the building in the back alley they heard the sirens of local law enforcement on their way. Armada reached to her belt and grabbed a small black item, then proceeded to toss it to Trunks.

"You're driving," she said and headed straight for the passenger side. He saw the wound on her neck better and with the she winced he figured she just wasn't fit to drive at the moment. He ran around to the driver's side and got in.

"Hurry up and get us out of here," Armada said and winced as she spoke. He looked confused for a moment, and she realized she needed to instruct him. "Insert the chip into that slot," she pointed with her left hand at a small rectangular slot near the steering column, "that will allow you to start the vehicle." He followed her instructions and the engine came to life. She gave a brief explanation of how to accelerate and brake, and after a few seconds Trunks pulled out from their parking spot and continued down the alley until it ran into a major road and he turned right. "When he get down to this intersection, make a left," Armada said as she used both hands now to cover her wound.

"Hey, stay awake to give me directions, okay?" Trunks joked in an attempt to lighten up the situation. "We won't make it back if you pass out," he said as he turned his attention back to the road and made a left turn.

"Get there fast or else I might," she said in a pained voice.

* * *

Back in Ute an hour before dawn, Trunks reached out to help Armada get out of the car but she jerked away from him. "My legs are fine," she said bitterly and flew up to the side of the ship. He'd parked inside the warehouse—there was a small door for the car on the side—and followed her up to the ship.

Once inside she flew straight to the infirmary and he followed her. Under the bright lights she lifted her hands and tried to look at the wound in a mirror but she couldn't see it without pulling too hard to turn her neck and it made the wound bleed more.

"Sit down, I'll take care of it," Trunks ordered when he walked in behind her. Armada sat up on the steel surgical table in the center of the room. He walked over and examined the wound as best he could at the moment. She had a deep gash leading down from just under her jaw on the right side of her neck over her shoulder that ended just above her scapular. "It's deep, it'll need stitches," Trunks said as he turned away from her to get supplies.

He picked through the cabinets for a needle, surgical thread, antiseptic and a few towels to wipe away the blood. "Take your armor off," he said as he turned around. It seemed she already knew it would be in the way and was working at it. She had both arm guards off and she was struggling with her chest piece so he set the supplies down and moved to help her.

"Hold on to the back," she said before she clicked something on her belt and her chest plate came apart underneath both arms, leaving a front piece and back piece. Trunks caught the back piece and set it aside, Armada did the same with the front. He was about to ask about the black fibrous material underneath because he couldn't see a zipper or any sort of fastener when she grimaced before lifting both arms and reaching just under her breasts.

Trunks watched in curiosity as she pulled up what had the structure of a shirt over her head. It appeared that the fibrous material was several different pieces, and one place it overlapped was under her breastplate. She pulled it completely off and Trunks could see she wore a black banded bra underneath the armor, and the fibrous material that covered her torso started just under the breasts. He turned his focus back to her wound and saw that it was much worse than he'd initially thought.

"Lay down on your stomach," he said as he looked at the wound. She figured as much based on how far down her back the cut went, so she dumped her armor onto the floor and did as told. Trunks worked methodically to clean the wound and began stitching it up from the insert point on her back. After forty minutes he'd made it to the base of her neck and only had another two inches left to stitch shut. He leaned in closer to get a better look but it wasn't helping, with her laying on her stomach the cut was angling away from him. "Turn over," he said and she sat upright. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and he shrugged and went back to work.

Trunks finally finished stitching up the wound entirely after another thirty minutes, trying his best to make it clean and minimize scarring. He was certain that if he had done this more often he'd be quicker at it, but as it stood his skills were what they were. He leaned in close when he cleaned the wound a bit more and examined it closely to make sure everything was as good as he could get it.

Armada shuddered almost imperceptibly and her skin started to pimple up. "Goosebumps?" Trunks stood up and looked at her.

"You breathed on me," she said flatly and turned her face away from him. From what he could see she didn't appear embarrassed, and he realized that she must have been on her own for some time to have that kind of reaction to him, considering the circumstances. He was going to speak when she stood up from the table and moved around him to a cabinet to his left. She pulled out a bag of red liquid and proceeded to hook it up to a needle and then jab the needle in her right arm.

She then grabbed some antiseptic and a few swabs which she placed in her mouth as her hands were full with the blood bag and antiseptic. "Synthetic blood," she said before he could ask. "No need for types or donors." She walked over to a seat at a table in the corner of the infirmary and set her supplies down as she got to work on her smaller wounds, namely the one her face, right elbow, and hands.

Trunks watched her closely for a moment. _How long has she been on her own? What would she have done without me here to stitch up that wound?_ He ignored the lingering thoughts and grabbed a few bandages to take care of his minor wounds, and stood at the counter with his back to her. She was definitely unlike any other person Trunks had met in his life, but he had a lingering feeling that in her case it was a bad thing.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you'd be so kind as to leave some sort of comment I will love you forever. *heart*

Silvia


	3. Mission 02: Sword for Hire

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and all related characters belong to Akira Toriyama and other respective owners.

* * *

Three days later Trunks found himself getting into Armada's car again as she rounded the front and got in the driver's side. He adjusted the seat this time and settled in, because they were off to a city just under 400 kilometers away across the border and into the only other country on the continent, Juu. She said she would explain the mission on the way over, so he complied and just went along for the ride, as it were. As they started to pull away, Trunks glanced to his left at Amada's neck, and with her wearing her armor and jacket he couldn't see anything, but she didn't appear to be favoring the injury.

While that stab wound wasn't life-threatening, it was significant. He found it interesting that she moved as if it didn't bother her. Perhaps she had taken painkillers, but he doubted it; she didn't seem to be the type. Even if the pain didn't bother her, it was strange that she moved as if she were completely fine. An injury like that would at least affect the movement of her neck and right arm. He turned his gaze outward once more. There was something about her, something more to her than she let on, and he was both curious and worried.

* * *

Illumination

Mission 02: Sword-for-Hire

* * *

Armada parked the car and turned off the ignition. After a four hour drive, they had arrived at their destination, and she opened her door to get out. Trunks followed suit and the pair found themselves in a city unlike Ute. This city looked more like what Trunks was used to on Earth; it was a bit run-down, dirty, and far behind Ute in the way of technology. They were in the capital city of Juu, the only other country on the continent that shared a small border with western Bmyhad, mostly over a mountain range. As they walked up the steps into the main building, Trunks recalled what Armada told him about their current mission on the drive over.

_"In the country bordering Bmyhad, Juu, there's a rebel faction working to overthrow the government. Basically domestic terrorists, since they attack civil servants as well as civilians. Their plan is backfiring and people are fleeing into Bmyhad, but the local government is having trouble wiping them out. We're supposed to go in and take out their leader, along with their base. Local PD will provide more details when we arrive."_

Once inside, Armada took her sunglasses off and placed them into a pocket of the cropped black jacket she wore over her armor, and Trunks stopped and stood at her side. Someone waved to the pair and they followed farther into the building, where they were led into a conference room with six other officials inside. Trunks noted as he sat down that two of the men were in uniform, and the others were in more casual suits. The guy who led them inside closed the door behind himself as he left.

"Thanks for taking this on," a dark haired man who stood at the end of the long table said wiped at his stubble-covered cheek.

Armada shook her head, "Payment is thanks enough."

"Quick to get to business," a younger brown-haired man spoke with a smirk, "I like this one."

"I thought it was just one," a blond haired man said and looked to his superior, the first to speak. "Why two all of a sudden," he asked with guarded anger.

"I hired on a new associate since I took the contract," Armada replied without looking to Trunks who sat on her right.

"Doesn't matter," the first officer to talk spoke once more. "I'm Lieutenant Rune and you'll be reporting to me." He pointed to the blond haired man, "That's Sergeant Nadolsky," then to the younger brown-haired man who smirked, "and Sergeant Srinst. The three of us will be your contact points with the department." With that he looked to the other unnamed officers in the room, two in uniform and one in a suit, and they each stood and left. When the room was left to the five of them Lt. Rune walked over to close the blinds so nobody could see into the conference room.

Rune nodded to Nadolsky who opened a terminal in front of the two mercenaries. A map of the continent appeared and he immediately zoomed into the northern region of Juu, where the country bordered Bmyhad through a mountain range. "The rebels call themselves Tere," Rune spoke as Nadolsky highlighted a square area on the map. "We've estimated based on their movements that their base is somewhere in this area, about twelve square kilometers."

"You can't narrow it down anymore than that?" Trunks asked and turned to Rune.

"We're not sure if it's underground or possibly mobile," Srinst answered. "The few times we've had any men make it out there and come back we had conflicting reports on where exactly their base was."

"We know it's in this region," Nadolsky reiterated. He zoomed in on the map so they could see only the area they would need to search. "With your abilities it shouldn't take you too long to find it," he finished and turned to Armada.

"So that covers the base," Armada summarized while studying the map, "what about their leader?"

"He goes by the name Nero, though we don't know what he looks like," Rune broke in again. He turned to face both Armada and Trunks. "He's rumored to be an energy wielder, like you." He paused and took a deep breath. "Which is why we keep losing men when we try to take their fort."

"Can't afford the right equipment?" Armada asked. Trunks noted how detached and cold her tone was.

"It's still cheaper to hire someone like you ten times over before we could afford any of that," Srinst broke in. "And, as you know, Bmyhad doesn't have anything, or if they do they're not sharing," he added sardonically.

"That doesn't matter now," Rune cut off Srinst. He looked to Trunks and then Armada. "We need you to make sure Nero ends up dead, that's the number one priority. Without him the whole thing will fall into disarray." He turned away from them for a moment and looked to Nadolsky. "Taking out their base is a close second. If you can't get Nero, at least destroy facility to slow them down."

"If he's there, we'll get him," Armada reassured them and stood.

"We'll be dropping you here," Nadolsky zoomed out to show a waypoint on the map, "thirty-six point two kilometers southeast of your destination." He turned to look at Trunks who sat to his left. "The forest here is extremely dense. That coupled with the altitude makes this area avoided by the rebels. You should be able to hike through on foot without risk of exposure," he finished.

Srinst held a finger up to his left ear for a moment before he spoke. "Helicopters are ready to roll, sir," he said as he turned to the lieutenant.

"If you don't have any questions, Srinst will take you up to the roof where transportation is waiting. By the time you reach the drop point it'll be sundown. Good luck," Rune added before he turned and ran his hand down his face again. Armada and Trunks stood and nodded, then followed Sergeant Srinst out the door.

After they left, Nadolsky looked over to his superior. "You think they can do it, sir?"

Rune turned to look at Nadolsky. "Do you remember hearing about that weapons factory on the edge of Alliance space a few months back?"

"No way," Nadolsky said in disbelief and understanding. "She did that?" He shook his head. "I'm impressed she's not dead yet."

"Now you know why I hired her," Rune added with emphasis. If someone could get away with that kind of damage against a serious interstellar mafia, he was fairly certain a few rebels in the woods would prove easy to someone like that. Or at least he hoped.

* * *

Armada stood right at the edge of the open door of the helicopter and kept her right hand glued to a rail just above the door. Her hair whipped in the wind and she yelled to speak to the pilot. "Don't fly too low or they might suspect something," she shouted. "We can take a long drop."

"Yes ma'am!" Trunks heard the pilot shout back as they neared their destination. He stood farther back into the vehicle, but the wind tore through and blew his hair all over the place too. Some days he missed when he had it short, but then he'd remember how much he hated the look. He felt the horizontal movement of the helicopter slow down and knew it was about time for them to drop out. He took a few steps over to where Armada stood and reached up for the railing she held on to as well.

"Here's your stop!" the pilot yelled over the sound of the engines and wind. Armada looked to Trunks and nodded before she casually let go of the railing she held and stepped out of the vehicle as if she were walking normally. She let herself fall feet-first, and Trunks hovered out of the helicopter and slowly descended.

His comrade hit the ground before he did by just a few seconds. They both turned to watch the helicopter fly away, though they could barely see it in the darkness of night—the pilot had turned off all the lights so they could get in completely dark. Trunks turned his attention back to his comrade to see her pull something from her belt that looked about six inches long and three inches wide. She flipped open the device to reveal a screen and a keyboard. On it he could see the map from earlier when they were briefed on the mission.

"Good job on his part, we're in the right spot," Armada said as she tilted the screen so Trunks could see better. "I suspect they thought we might walk, which is why they don't think we'll have a lot of time. However," she continued as she looked up in the direction they would be traveling, "we'll save a lot of time if we fly and then we'll have more time for recon." She shut the item and hung it on the back of her belt again, just a bit to the right of center.

"Let's go," Armada said rather flatly before she took off at a leisurely flying pace. Trunks figured she didn't want to create too much of a wake as they flew to disturb the surrounding areas—animals would flee and blow their cover. It took a little under ten minutes for them to reach their destination, and they softly landed in the woods and approached slightly closer on foot.

"You see it?" Armada asked quietly as she moved to stand next to a tree, putting fifteen feet between the pair.

"Yeah," Trunks replied as he stood by another tree as well. About one kilometer away he could see what looked like some type of bunker poking up from the ground. Trees and other foliage were growing from the top of the bunker, which was probably one reason it was so hard to find. That, and from their conversation earlier with Rune and the other officers he figured they just weren't funded enough to have the technology to locate something like this.

The pair stood and watched for close to an hour; Trunks kept track on his watch. In that time they saw a handful of people trickle in and out, but nothing major. Another hour passed with no activity and Trunks figured since it was getting later into the night the members of the group were probably sleeping. He heard Armada shift her weight on her feet and glanced over to her. He saw her putting a small set of binoculars away on the back side of her belt.

"Looks like there are a few emergency exits on the top of the bunker," Armada said and turned to face Trunks, "so that's probably our best way in." She nodded to him before she began to float above the ground a few inches, just enough to clear the low brush in the forest. Trunks mimicked her movements, and the pair flew toward the complex.

One they reached the bunker and floated up to the top they both landed very delicately on the surface. The roof of the base was covered in all kinds of overgrowth, but Armada seemed to know where she was headed. She knelt down and started tearing away vines and moss to reveal one of the emergency exits she spoke of only moments before. She studied it for a moment, since it was meant to be opened from the inside. Trunks was about to ask what they should do when she reached for two sides of the small door and began to pull at it. Within a few seconds the door came loose and she pulled it open gingerly. She pushed the door all the way open and floated down into the structure, and Trunks followed right behind her.

Inside they found themselves standing in the middle of a long corridor with dim lighting along the corners in the ceiling. Trunks studied their surroundings; everything was made with plated metal but a lot of it was rusted or in disrepair. Then again he figured a rebel group probably didn't have a lot of funds or other resources to keep the place in top condition.

"This isn't going to work," Armada shook her head and turned to Trunks.

"What do you mean?" he near-whispered as she did when she spoke to him.

"We don't know who Nero is," she stated flatly. "And look at this place," she motioned around herself, "they're not very organized so it won't be obvious."

"You don't sound that worried," Trunks started thoughtfully. "You have a plan," he stated rather than asked.

"You're a bounty hunter, and you chased me all the way out here," she began telling him her plan. "I broke in, you followed me. We'll stage a fight, you'll capture me, and with their attention you'll offer to hand me over as a sign of good faith that you're not here for them." Her gaze fell as she thought for a moment. "If they buy it, it should give us enough time to figure out who their leader is."

"What if they don't buy it?" Trunks asked the obvious question.

"We'll have to fight our way out," she said with dissatisfaction. It wasn't the ideal plan, but that's what contingency plans were for.

Armada turned her gaze away from Trunks. "Don't hold back," she said as she looked down the end of the hall.

"What?" he blinked.

She turned to look him in the eyes again. "It has to be believable, so we both have to look a little roughed up." Trunks looked at her in curiosity when she lunged at him. He jumped backward just in time to miss her punch and she suddenly used her energy to fly after him.

He turned and flew away from her, down a few corridors with her hot on his heels. "You're supposed to be chasing me!" she shouted as they flew. Realizing she was right, he immediately stopped, turned, and swung with his right fist for her face. He saw her eyes widen in shock and she couldn't stop herself in time. His fist connected and sent her flying backward to the end of the hall where her back smacked into the metal wall before she bounced off slightly and fell to the floor.

_Shit,_ Trunks cursed mentally as he looked at his comrade down the hall. She wiped at blood seeping from her mouth. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard, but then again he wasn't sure exactly how strong she was to know right where to reign in his own abilities. Not to mention that it'd been a few years since he had a fight or even sparred with anyone. Sometimes he forgot his own strength.

She took off and flew at him faster than before and started swinging. He easily dodged and blocked all of her punches, and after a moment she jumped back and fired an energy blast at him. Trunks swatted it away with his left forearm, and it blew into a side wall causing a huge explosion. The sounds of footsteps and shouting greeted the pair, and Armada smirked at Trunks. He smiled in response before he flew after her once more.

He decided to throw his punches this time, and Armada blocked six of them in a row with her armored forearms before he faked a punch with his left and used his right hand to grab a hold of her arm. He spun them around in the hallway and used her arm like a piece of rope to throw her over his head and down into the ground. She landed on her back and the impact created a dent in the metal flooring. He put his left foot down across her neck but didn't press; he just needed it to look like he had her dead-to-rights.

The pair was in the middle of an intersection of two hallways and people started pouring in on their location, guns drawn and pointed. Trunks kept his eyes locked with Armada's and the pair didn't move as the shouts around them grew louder.

"What the hell is going on?!" Trunks heard a male voice scream. His head snapped up to the direction the shout came from as everyone else fell silent. People parted the way for the man to walk though and he made it to the front of the crowd, standing only two meters away from Trunks. He was six feet tall with dark brown hair shorn down to a few centimeters, and dark eyes—Trunks couldn't tell the color. "You have three seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill you," the man said and narrowed his eyes.

"Sorry," Trunks said and pretended to be out of breath. "I was chasing my latest bounty when she broke in here so I followed her," he motioned to the woman beneath his foot as he still held on to her left forearm with his right hand. "Honestly from the outside the place looked abandoned," he added with a glance to his right.

"A likely story," the man spat. He opened his mouth and turned back a bit, about to bark out an order to the men behind him with guns when Trunks cut him off.

"Come on," Trunks bit back with a cocky attitude that surprised even himself. "I'm just trying to get paid, no need for that," he nodded toward the minions armed to the teeth behind the lone man who stood without a weapon. Everyone stared at Trunks as he wracked his brain for what to do next. "Don't believe me? Check the bounty on her," he assured them. "Her name's Armada. I'll be set for a few years with this one," he tacked on at the end. Part of him really hoped she had a bounty and it was high enough for them to buy his story.

"I don't buy it," a taller man with more muscle spoke from Trunks's left. He was holding a large assault rifle and he turned to look at the man Trunks was speaking to. "He sounds like he's full of shit."

"All bounty hunters are, Lavelle," the man in charge responded with disdain. He seemed to be mulling it over so Trunks figured now he should try and sweeten the deal for them.

"Look," Trunks began and caught their attention again, "I'll let you guys hold on to her until you confirm the bounty," he tugged on her arm for emphasis, "and when everything checks out I leave with my newest pay check in tow."

"And if it doesn't check out?" the man named Lavelle asked in disdain.

"We'll just kill them both," the other man supplied with a crooked smirk. "Detain her," he ordered with a nod and several people from all sides around Trunks closed in. He released Armada's arm and removed his foot from her neck as the minions closed in. Two of them grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet before they spun her around to hold her hands behind her back as they put shackles on them.

Lavelle, who was wearing what appeared to be the pants he slept in and nothing else, like much of the rebels, walked up to Armada and grabbed her hair at the scalp on the back of her head. He jerked her head back to crane her neck up at him and smirked. Armada glared at him before he released her hair. "Pathetic," he said with disgust. "Take her to the jail," he shouted and the men who had restrained her dragged her off behind Trunks.

The man who first showed any signs of authority approached Trunks as the rest of the rebels fell into step and moved out of the area. "What's your name, bounty hunter?" he asked with distrust in his eyes.

"Trunks," the Earthling replied honestly. No point in making up a name as they might call for him and he could forget his fake name.

"Nero," the man nodded to Trunks in return as he pursed his lips. "Our communications are all done via satellite, and it won't be in range for another two hours," he continued. "We'll have to wait a bit before we can verify your story," Nero turned to Lavelle who stood at his right, then looked back at Trunks. "I hope you don't mind staying near Lavelle and myself in the meantime," Nero continued with a glare. Trunks knew it wasn't a proposition, but rather an order.

Lavelle raised his assault rifle to point it at Trunks once again. "Let's go," Lavelle said as Nero turned and headed back down the hall from which he first came. Trunks fell in step behind Nero and Lavelle followed behind, gun pointed only inches from Trunks's spine.

_We know who Nero is_, Trunks thought, _but now what?_ He gave himself time to consider the options because, as Nero said, they had a few hours before they would believe him anyway, which meant he would be cooped up with Lavelle's gun pointed at him in the meantime. That gave him some time to think up a plan. He only hoped one came to him before they released Armada back into his custody, or they'd be going with plan B which was guaranteed to be messy.

* * *

Armada was pushed from behind into the small jail cell, and she kept up the act and stumbled forward before she caught her balance and turned around. "Behave and we won't have to shoot you," one of the men who closed the barred gates behind her laughed.

"I'd rather just shoot her anyway," one of the women with a large assault rifle similar to Lavelle's said and looked to the prison guard.

"We gotta wait until the boss says we can," the man sighed in disappointment. The rest of the group started to file out. "Shouldn't be more than two hours though." He turned to look at Armada when he noticed she was watching him. "That's right, we're gonna kill you shortly so you might want to take what little time you have left to piss yourself," he laughed.

"I call dibs on shooting the bitch," the female guard smirked slightly at Armada. "She interrupted a good night's sleep."

"Don't get trigger happy," the man walked away from the cell. "We wait for orders."

"Yeah yeah," the woman fell into step behind him. Within a few seconds they disappeared around a corner and Armada heard another set of gates close behind them. She walked over to the metal bench in the cell and sat down. _Trunks, you better be as smart as I hope you are,_ she thought with a large sigh. He made the right call about there being a bounty out there for her, she was certain there was one from a while back and the reward was pretty steep. She just hoped he played along just long enough for them to get out, get the leader, and level the place. She wasn't fast enough to dodge bullets from the guns this group was carrying, especially in narrow spaces. And she didn't think he'd be able to, either.

* * *

Trunks looked up from where he sat to Lavelle once more. Trunks wasn't restrained but the rebel still clung tightly to his assault rifle and stared down the mercenary from his post by the door. Trunks turned his gaze away once more and glanced at his watch. It had been almost three hours and still no word from anyone about the bounty. He wondered if they even bothered to check and just planned on killing him and Armada, or killing him and turning her in for the bounty themselves, if she had one.

They may have had conventional weaponry but Trunks wasn't scared of that in the least—he knew his own abilities, even if he assumed their guns fired like the ones on Earth. The real question for him was Armada; could she survive in the time it would take him to get to her? The handcuffs they placed on her looked easily breakable with her strength, but who knew if she could get away from close-quarters gunfire. He had to wait until they were together again before he did anything, otherwise she wouldn't be safe. And while Trunks wasn't exactly excited about his current situation in life, he wouldn't allow himself to leave her to die.

The door to the room swung open and another rebel walked in. "Lavelle, Nero wants to see him," the young man said and motioned toward Trunks. Lavelle nodded and turned to Trunks. The mercenary stood and followed the unnamed rebel and again Lavelle followed behind with his rifle pointed in the middle of Trunks's back.

A few minutes later they walked into a much larger and open area that Trunks immediately identified as a control center. Monitors lined one wall with terminals and individual consoles around the room. In the middle was a long rectangular table and Nero stood near it as the group approached. Trunks stopped a few feet from Nero; he knew when to stop because Lavelle jabbed the barrel of his gun into the Earthling's back to indicate he should stop. Trunks looked up to Nero who was now fully dressed in some light leather plate armor over his chest and one shoulder.

"You were telling the truth," Nero started. "But the conditions of the deal have changed," he said bitterly.

"Why is that?" Trunks's eyes narrowed at Nero. While he and Armada had both kept their energy masked to very low levels, Trunks could sense that Nero was starting to increase his. Lavelle still stood behind him with his assault rifle aimed at Trunks so he knew he had to be cautious.

"We need money to run our operation," Nero started to walk leisurely to Trunks's right. The demi-Saiyan's eyes followed closely as the rebel leader moved. "Just as anyone would," Nero stopped walking and looked to Trunks. "So we're going to turn in the mercenary for the bounty. And you're," Nero paused and charged a ki blast around his right fist, "going to leave."

"That doesn't work for me," Trunks replied as he watched Nero closely. If he was trying to intimidate Trunks, then the rebel leader was sorely mistaken. "I did all the work and you guys take the reward?" Trunks asked in disgust. "I don't think so."

Just as Trunks finished speaking, Nero fired. Trunks easily dodged and Lavelle was hit with the blast in the chest instead. As Lavelle fell backward his hands clenched on his gun and the assault rifle started firing. Trunks was already out of the way but Nero couldn't move as fast, and was shot three times across his left shoulder. Trunks turned and charged at Nero; he landed a painful right hook in the rebel's face. Nero flew backward into several consoles behind himself and left a dent in the metal from the impact. He coughed up blood and Trunks approached slowly.

Nero looked up to Trunks and was about to say something when Trunks silenced him permanently with another energy blast. Nero was dead, so part one of their mission was accomplished. Trunks heard shouts from farther in the building and turned toward them. They probably knew what had happened by now and were mobilizing. He took off flying out of the room and down the halls toward where he sensed his comrade.

* * *

"What?!" Armada heard one of the male voices scream. She stood up from where she sat and moved toward the barred door. Several people came running in to where her cell was, including the woman from a few hours ago who had wanted to shoot her.

"You bitch!" she screamed and raised her weapon, ready to fire.

"No!" another man Armada had not seen before ran in and put his hands on the barrel of her weapon to push it down. "She's not with the bounty hunter, and if we shoot her now we won't get the reward," he said with authority.

Armada knew it was time to roll, as she felt Trunks closing in on her location—after she sensed Nero fire at him. She narrowed her eyes at the woman who so desperately wanted to kill her. "Hey," she called out.

"What?!" the woman snarled and snapped her head around to Armada.

"Actually," Armada began while she discreetly broke her handcuffs apart behind her back. "I am with the mercenary," her eyes narrowed. The woman was shocked and went to fire her gun, but she was too slow. Armada immediately fired energy from both hands and wiped out both people standing in front of her cell, as well as the bars that were in her way.

Trunks flew in just as Armada stepped out of her cell. She looked over to him, "We've gotta get out of here." He nodded and the pair took off flying down the corridors again until they reached the highest level in the bunker once more. Armada stopped in a hallway and blew a hole through the roof of the bunker which revealed the night sky above. Plants and debris fell inside but it didn't matter, and the pair flew outside.

They continued up into the sky until they hovered a kilometer above their target. Armada glanced to Trunks and then charged up her aura around her. She turned and fired on the bunker below with both arms outstretched. Trunks was shocked by the amount of energy she fired; it was plenty to destroy the bunker but he was impressed with her strength, though she was still a far cry from his own, not that she would know that. She stopped firing and reached behind her back to pull out the small locator device she had used earlier.

Armada flipped it open and zoomed out on their previous map so she could see all of Juu. She closed the lid and looked to Trunks. "It shouldn't take more than an hour to fly back, if you can keep up," she said dismissively. Trunks wondered if she know how easy it was for him and was just joking, or if she was serious. Either way, she took off and he followed quickly after.

* * *

Back at police headquarters in the city, Trunks and Armada sat at the same conference table they were at the night before, with the same three officers they had originally sat with. "Good work," Lieutenant Rune said as he tossed a few bank cards down to the table in front of Armada. She reached forward and gathered the three cards into her hands before she placed them in a jacket pocket.

"How do we know Nero is dead?" Nadolsky asked. It was a valid question, there was no way for them to know.

"Doesn't matter," Rune broke in. "She accepted a lower pay scale in advance so that if she didn't get one or the other we wouldn't lose out." Trunks was surprised, it seemed a little strange for a mercenary to do such a thing.

"Oh, someone has a sense of honor, huh?" Srinst asked with a smirk. Armada didn't answer him and stood from her seat. "Hey, where are you going?" Srinst lost his sarcastic tone.

"They're free to go," Rune broke in. "Take care of yourselves," Rune threw in as Trunks stood and the pair headed out. Trunks wondered why the lieutenant would bother saying something relatively caring but dismissed the thought quickly as he followed Armada outside.

They quickly arrived at the car and got in. Armada started the vehicle and spoke as she pulled out into traffic, "We'll grab something to eat then head out," she said without looking to her comrade.

"How much money did we make?" Trunks asked. She never did tell him from when she first mentioned the mission, and the officers didn't mention a number either.

"Three hundred thousand beta," Armada replied flatly as she glanced to her left before making a right turn.

_Three hundred thousand?_ Trunks thought in shock. Then again, they did a huge job, but he remembered them talking about how equipment would cost several times that. He wasn't sure what that conversation was about but he intended to find out. "When you mentioned yesterday that the police couldn't afford the right equipment, what did you mean?" Trunks asked.

"Seriously?" Armada glanced to him briefly before she turned her eyes to the road.

"What?" Trunks was insulted. "I don't know everything," he added sourly.

"What stops people like you and me from destroying everything in our way, and killing anyone who opposes us?" She didn't look at him because she was focused on the road but Trunks was stunned into silence. "What stops us from enslaving everyone else with the threat of death?" She paused and made a left turn at a light.

"The technology exists to suppress the manifestation and use of energy," she continued without looking to Trunks. Her eyes flashed to her right to glance at him briefly before she spoke once more. "It's hard to manufacture. It's expensive. But it works," she explained. "Some governments can afford it, and some can't. Some areas of the universe are safer than others," she finished.

Trunks sat back in his seat and thought about what she said. So it wasn't like Earth, where he could literally take control of everything if he wanted. Hell, the androids weren't any different, as they did exactly that. So in this more developed area of the universe, governments could keep people like him in line, because they did have ways of suppressing their power. In that case, that meant there were a lot more people out there like himself and Armada, people who could use ki. He had an ominous feeling that things weren't going to be as easy as he originally hoped.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Silvia


	4. Mission 03: Escort Service

Hey all, thanks for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, nor am I claiming to. This fanfic is strictly for fun.

* * *

Trunks used a pair of long metal tweezers to pull out the stitches in Armada's neck. She sat perfectly still and didn't even flinch as he worked, and he was slightly impressed. Several days after he'd put the stitches in she had healed magnificently, and barely had a scar considering how long and deep the cut was. After a few more minutes, he finished taking the stitches out and she gingerly ran her right hand over the scar.

"All done," Trunks turned around to gather all the discarded materials to throw away.

"There's barely a scar," she said thoughtfully as she continued to feel the injury with her right hand. "With a bit more medication it'll be nearly invisible," she finished and stood up from where she sat on the surgical table in the center of the room.

Trunks moved to throw away the garbage and turned to face Armada. "I left some bandages and the medication on the counter for you," he said while she had her back to him. She grabbed her shirt and pulled it on over her head before she turned to face him. She nodded and moved to the counter to dress her wound, and Trunks left the infirmary.

* * *

Illumination

Mission 03: Escort Service

* * *

Several hours later, Trunks waited at the the door to the ship for Armada. She soon exited her room down the hall and approached. She was in her armor with the black jacket on top and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes. She nodded to him before she opened the door and flew down to the ground floor of the warehouse. He followed close behind as they packed into the black car again and pulled off.

Trunks already knew what they were doing this time; they were headed to local police headquarters in Ute to pick up a prisoner and transfer him to another country, on another planet in another system. With their last payday, Armada had the ship refueled so they could now take jobs off-world. She said that she didn't want to leave Ute permanently until she had more in the bank and Trunks was secretly grateful. He didn't want to relocate from Bmyhad where he knew how to get home—the jump gate was the only way he knew how to find Earth. He really had no idea where in the galaxy they were, just that it was closer to the center of the Milky Way and a long haul from the Sol system.

It was only a matter of minutes before they arrived, and Armada pulled around the back of the building to park in a specified area. When they got out of the car, several officers were standing and waiting. Two stood to secure the area around the vehicle to make sure nothing funny was going on while a third opened a large metal door for them to enter the building.

It took a few minutes to get through security, as they had to wait their turn. Trunks followed Armada through what he guessed was some type of scanner, presumably for concealed weapons but then again, he had no idea what else they could detect. Once they were through the scanner, another officer gave them red wrist bands. Trunks had seen everyone else that went through had blue wrist bands, and a few green, but no red. He wondered if they knew he could control life energy, and that's why the mercenary pair were tagged with the bright red bands.

A young uniformed officer approached the pair and stopped in front of them. "Officer Tellman," he said and turned away from the pair. "This way please," he stated flatly. Armada immediately followed and Trunks fell into step behind her.

"The prisoner is not to be underestimated," Tellman said as they walked. Trunks closed the gap between himself and Armada and walked beside her, just behind the officer so he could hear better. "He's not like you but he's still extremely dangerous," Tellman continued. They stopped at a door and he entered in a number on a keypad nearby and the metal door opened for them. Armada took initiative and headed inside, Trunks followed after her and Tellman behind them both.

Trunks noticed they were walking down a hall of cells, some occupied and some not. They all had transparent front walls that looked like glass, but he knew better. Glass would be far too easy to break so it had to be some other material he wasn't familiar with. Trunks wondered, if they knew he and Armada were ki-fighters, then they must have had ways to house prisoners with those abilities. So how could any material keep them captive? He remembered the conversation he had with Armada, about how there were ways to restrict ki usage, but he didn't see any obvious way to do it.

Two officers stood in front of a cell and Armada stopped next to them when the pair approached. "Detective Neiman," the much older man of the pair introduced himself tersely. He had clearly graying hair and some unruly stubble, but Trunks figured that wasn't too far off from what old cops looked like back at home—or at least how they appeared in old movies.

"This is Lieutenant Strife," he motioned to the younger man next to him. The lieutenant appeared to be middle-aged as well, just not as old as Neiman. Or maybe just not as worn out.

"There he is," the detective motioned to the lone prisoner in this cell. Trunks and Armada turned to look, and Trunks was a bit unimpressed. He looked like the average person, not much older than Trunks himself and the guy had an athletic build. Why hire mercenaries for something that seemed to mundane?

The subject in question stood from where he sat, he already had his arms cuffed in front of him. He walked up to the clear wall and looked at the two mercenaries. "Only two guards?" he said with a smirk. "I'm sad, I was hoping it was a bigger deal for all the talk of hiring a _private contractor_," he emphasized the last two words as if mocking them. When he reached the end of the cell Trunks could see his piercing green eyes and black hair. Something about his eyes was... strange, to put it lightly.

"Don't take him lightly," Lieutenant Strife finally spoke. "He's a trained spy. Deception and misdirection are all he knows," the officer glanced to the prisoner in question.

"Oh come on," the spy rolled his eyes. "I know a lot more stuff than that!"

Detective Neiman pulled out a small datapad and loaded a file. He passed the device to Armada and Trunks looked over her shoulder to get a glance at it as well. "His name is Nassas Reine," Neiman began as the mercenaries read. "We've negotiated his transfer to another nation where he is wanted for several crimes. You'll be taking him to Hrimth, Taydr, and you are expected to arrive in three days. The exact time and location of the drop off are in the file," Neiman motioned toward the datapad in Armada's hands, "and that's yours to keep."

Armada studied the file a moment longer before she looked up to the detective. "Are there any special precautions we need to take?" she asked.

"Whatever he says, don't listen to him," Lieutenant Strife spoke once more. "With that silver tongue of his," he glanced to the prisoner and then back to Armada, "he can convince people to open the cell and let him walk out of the front door."

"Aw, I'm flattered Strife," Nassas said with sarcasm. "But I don't swing that way. Well, not when I'm sober," he laughed.

The lieutenant rolled his eyes and Trunks sighed. _This_ was going to be one fun mission.

* * *

"Are you sure I'm secure?" Nassas asked as he looked up to Armada. "Maybe you should double check all these locks," he said and looked down to his shackles. He was sitting in a chair in the lounge with both arms cuffed to each arm of the chair, his hands still cuffed together in front of him, and both feet shackled and bound to the chair as well.

"We both know you're not going anywhere," Armada said and walked away toward the bridge.

Nassas looked over to the only other person in the room. "No," Trunks shook his head, "don't even look this direction."

Nassas smirked. "I was only going to ask if you two were an item, because it'd be that much more fun to" he never got to finish as he was cut off by Trunks.

"You can give up on the psychological warfare," Trunks interrupted the prisoner. "Neither one of us is going to fall for it, so just settle in for your trip," he finished before he turned and headed for the bridge.

Armada was already at the main console and setting up the ship for launch. Trunks took a seat to her left as another console. "So how long are we going to keep him like that?" he asked. The trip was going to take almost three and a half days, obviously they couldn't keep him pinned down in a chair like that the entire time.

"Just until we're out of the gravity well and auto-pilot can safely take over," Armada said without turning her attention away from her work. "We'll lock him up in the unused bunk since there's nothing in there for him to get into, and he'll have his own bathroom so we don't have to worry about that," she added. With a few more button presses the engines powered up and Trunks could feel the ship come to life under his feet.

Armada turned her chair to face Trunks. "We'll have to take him meals, but that won't be a problem," she said and paused for a moment. Trunks thought she looked like she was contemplating something. "He can't overpower either of us," she added.

"What's up?" Trunks asked. She looked like she had something on her mind.

"There's something going on," Armada added. "I can't figure out exactly what, but as long we're vigilant we should be alright." She turned back to the console and continued preparing for launch.

"I'll see if our friend doesn't know anything," Trunks smirked. "He seems to be the type who can't stop talking, even if nobody's listening." He headed back to the lounge where they had him tied down to a chair.

"Change your mind?" Nassas said with his head down. He slowly looked up to Trunks and smirked.

"No, you're not my type," Trunks joked back with a sour smile. He walked over and had a seat in the corner booth on the other side of the doorway to the infirmary from where their captive sat. "So what'd you do to end up arrested?"

"I was too good looking," Nassas flashed a smile showing his teeth.

"Seems like you can't do your job," Trunks prodded at Nassas's ego a bit. If he was the vain and self-absorbed type, like he seemed so far, then he wouldn't like to be insulted.

Nassas turned away and pouted. "You don't have a clue what I can do," he said bitterly, half-joking and half-serious.

Trunks stood and leaned over to the prisoner's face, and stared him straight in the eyes. "But who's chained down to a chair, and who isn't?" he whispered, adding some spite to get under Nassas's skin.

Reine dropped the act and stared back with anger evident in his eyes. "For now," he drawled slowly. "But you mercenaries aren't the brightest bunch, which is why guys like me have to clean up your messes," he finished with bile in his voice.

Trunks stood back and closed his eyes briefly and smirked. "Right, guys like you," he opened his eyes. "So what are you, a spy?"

"A master of espionage," Nassas ground out. "Unlike idiots like you who always go in guns blazing, tripping over your feet," he continued. "I have skills and finesse."

Trunks shrugged, "Whatever you say, buddy." With that he turned and walked back into the bridge. Armada was still flying the ship manually and he could that they were slowly pulling from the gravity well. Armada must have noticed as well because she turned on the artificial gravity and Trunks felt his feet settle against the cold steel floor once more.

"Anything interesting?" she asked without turning to face him.

"He's arrogant, and self-absorbed," Trunks said casually as if he was talking about what he ate for breakfast instead of a quick psychological profile of their charge. "Some sort of spy, by the way he talks," he added. Armada nodded and kept her gaze focused on the task before her. Trunks turned and headed back toward his room to get a little rest before they had to move one Nassas Reine into his own quarters.

* * *

Nassas laid back lazily in one of the three beds in the room he'd been sequestered to. His back, or more accurately his shoulders were against the wall and his right leg hung over the edge of the bed, his left propped up on it. He'd already done his thorough search of the room, for anything he could make use of, but there was nothing. Whoever this pair was that had him and were taking him back home, they knew their stuff. All Nassas Reine knew for certain was that for the next few days he was going to be bored out of his mind.

The door to his prison suddenly opened and Reine jumped to sit upright. He saw the woman walk in with a tray of food in her hands. "You've come to eat with me?" he said with a large smile.

She walked over and set the tray down on the other end of bed he was sitting on. "I'll be back for the tray," she said in a low growl before she turned to leave.

"Don't leave so quickly now!" Reine exclaimed and jumped up. He reached for her arm and just caught her right elbow in his left hand. Shocked by his audacity, Armada spun around faster than Reine thought possible and hit him with her left-handed fist square in the middle of his chest. He flew backwards and his back bounced against the edge of the bed before he fell to the floor in a heap.

"That hurt you stupid bitch!" he shouted up at her as his hands went to his chest and gingerly touched his wound.

Armada reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his black suit, and lifted him to her eye level. "I could kill you if I felt like it," she ground out through clenched teeth. "The only reason I don't is that I'd rather make money instead of dump a body in the middle of space," she elaborated. She dropped him and he fell to the ground again.

"Don't think for a second you can touch me," she spat at him before she swung around on her heel and walked out of the room. The door closed behind her and Nassas heard it lock. He narrowed his eyes at where she had retreated and still kept a hand clasped over his chest where she'd hit him. He knew that feeling, and that was no normal punch—she was an energy fighter. Well, that made things a _lot_ more interesting.

* * *

Armada stepped outside the room and reached back to the wall with her left hand to close the door. She was unnerved to see Trunks standing in the hall, waiting for her. "You okay?" he asked with eyes that let her know that he knew precisely what happened.

"I'm fine," she said and dropped her gaze as she strode past him. She let her anger get the best of her and her energy flared slightly when she punched him. What surprised her was how attune Trunks was to this, to notice and ask her if things were all right. Well if he was that adept at sensing ki, then she didn't need to tell him anything. Not that she wanted to admit to losing her temper anyway.

Trunks wasn't naïve. He could feel the anger radiating off of Armada in waves when she walked past him. He could also feel the rage in the rise of her energy briefly when she hit their prisoner. She had an issue with anger that she was working to control, but Trunks wondered what had Nassas done to push past her control? From what he'd seen of her so far she seemed to wear some outer veneer to keep herself protected, to keep herself in check. He'd have to spend more time with their captive to figure out just how he'd managed to nearly get himself killed.

* * *

Three hours after that little incident, Armada was sleeping—or at least appeared to be sleeping—in the pilot's chair on the bridge. She hadn't gone back to retrieve the tray of food she'd given to Nassas, and she hadn't said one word since she left his room earlier. Trunks was concerned, but more interested in what exactly their prisoner had done to raise his partner's ire.

After giving a courtesy knock, Trunks opened the door to the captive spy's room and saw Nassas Reine sitting on the floor with empty dishes on a tray sitting next to him. He glanced up lazily, "Oh. Wasn't really expecting anyone to come back tonight," he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Trunks stepped into the room and the door shut automatically behind him. "Your girlfriend really packs a punch," Nassas looked up to Trunks and laughed. Trunks could tell he wasn't trying to pull anything, just make a joke.

The mercenary nodded and gave a half-smile, "You should have just behaved." He cleared the distance between the pair and sat down next to Nassas, his back against the edge of the lower bunk, the tray of empty dishes separating the pair. "So what'd you do and how'd you get caught?" Trunks asked, honestly trying to drum up conversation. There weren't really any spies on Earth growing up, considering humanity was united against one enemy who wouldn't talk to any other humans long enough to have a conversation beyond a few insults. Sure he'd seen old movies and such, but what did real spies _really_ do?

"Ahhh," Nassas said like he was remembering something particularly embarrassing, "I screwed up." He lifted his right leg and pulled it up to his chest, then he rested his right hand on his knee. "We," he paused as he looked at Trunks. "My team," he started over, "we had to get some intel at a political gala," he laughed. "Bunch of dignitaries getting drunk and dancing horribly, really," Nassas rolled his eyes. He looked at the floor in front of him, taking his eyes away from Trunks. "Got busted when the woman I was dancing with found my knife," he said and motioned to the empty on his right thigh.

"Dancing?" Trunks asked with a hint of mirth. With where that knife was hiding, it must have been _some _kind of dance.

"Hey, I'm a professional," Nassas replied and motioned with his right hand toward his chest. "It's not my fault if the target gets grabby."

"So what happens when we drop you off?" Trunks asked earnestly.

"Probably get thrown in prison for the rest of my life," Nassas sat back and let his head fall against the mattress of the bottom bunk he was leaned against. "Or executed. Depends on who bought me."

"We're heading to a planet called Taydr," Trunks said the name slowly, still unsure of how to pronounce it. There was something funny with how everyone said the ending, with a rolled 'r' and a very short 'ah' sound.

Nassas laughed. "I'm in deep shit then." A silence descended between the pair for a moment before the spy spoke once more. "What about you?" he asked before he turned his head slightly so he could look over at Trunks. "Why are you with her," he made a slight motion with his head, "of all people?"

Trunks sighed. "To repay a debt I owe," he said honestly. He wasn't lying, but he didn't want to say any more than that.

"Good luck," Nassas said almost under his breath. He turned his head and stared up at the ceiling again, adding, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into." Trunks opened his mouth to speak but Nassas kept going. "Why is it that when we meet people we always give them the benefit of the doubt?" he asked with a certain philosophical annoyance about it. He looked over at Trunks again, "We don't know what they were doing five minutes before we met them, but we always seem to assume everyone has a clean slate, when we _know_ that nobody does." He laughed and rolled his head away from Trunks, so the mercenary couldn't even see the corner of his eyes. "You're an idiot," he added almost inaudibly.

Trunks nodded to himself and then stood. He reached down to pick up the tray of dishes and moved for the door. After he opened the door, Trunks turned to the spy known as Nassas Reine to add one final thought. "But who's the one getting sold off to the highest bidder?" He didn't wait for a snappy response and simply turned and left, the door shutting and locking behind him.

* * *

That night Trunks didn't sleep. He sat in the lounge, sitting at an angle in one corner so he could see through the doorway to the bridge and see the left side of Armada sitting in the pilot's seat. He wasn't going to let the spy get to him, but he did bring up a good point. Trunks had no idea who Armada was. When they met, she was willing to kill a kid who had nothing to do with anything, over some money. Granted he learned later it was a lot of money she'd lost earlier that day, but that could hardly be blamed on Murtole, of all people. The poor kid barely saw the sun—well, whatever star was the center of that system, he couldn't remember.

There was one thought Trunks couldn't shake. What _was_ Armada doing five minutes before she ran into him? Besides chasing the guy who robbed her. Not that it was the five minutes themselves that determined life and death, but the thought still stood. Everyone had a past, and Trunks was taught not to judge too harshly on the mistakes people had made in their lives—Kami knows he's made plenty of his own. But what about judging someone's present? Who they are in the here and now? What if Armada was on 'good behavior' to keep him around? What if she'd just slaughtered some poor innocent fool not even hours before they met? He hadn't been with her long, and they had fought for their lives, but she didn't seem... _malicious_. Then again, how much did he really know? She hardly spoke, and she never talked about herself. Of course he didn't either, so was it fair to judge? Maybe not judge, but... just be concerned.

In the pilot's chair, in front of the main console while the ship was on autopilot, Armada sat stoically and watched their progress. She knew her comrade was staring; she could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of her head. She had felt his eyes on her more than usual after he'd gone to see Reine when he thought she was asleep, and she knew the spy had gotten to him.

Of course, when one had as much to hide as she did, it was easy to turn anyone against her.

* * *

Two agonizingly long days were down, and the group had just over a day left to arrive at their destination. Trunks had stayed away from Armada as much as he could, avoided conversation, and generally was more observant of her movements. It was driving the mercenary crazy. She wasn't blind, she knew what he was doing. She didn't talk much but he wasn't a good liar, in his speech or his movements, and she knew when someone was acting. He just wasn't that experienced at it.

He was reading in the lounge, using one of her small portable terminals to fetch articles from the interstellar network. Well, he was reading and watching her, and it was just getting on Armada's nerves. If he had something to say, he needed to spit it out. And quit watching her like she had a knife poised at his back.

Armada was trying to ignore him as she headed into the galley and back out with a bottle of water, but she finally lost it. "What the hell's the matter?" she spat flatly, obviously irritated. She slammed her bottled water down on the table he sat at, and a few droplets escaped the straw and floated up toward the ceiling.

Trunks's eyes rolled up slowly to look at her. "Sounds like you're the one with the problem," he said coolly before returning his gaze to his studies.

"Oh cut the bullshit," she said and narrowed her eyes. "You're a horrible actor and you've had your eyes on me since you had your own personal conversation with the goddamn spy. You let him get to you, and now you're trying to play it cool," she said and grimaced, a look that showed how little she believed Trunks feigning innocence. "I'm no fool and I won't be played for one, by _anyone_," she emphasized.

Trunks kept quiet for a moment, the tiniest bit of anger showing plainly on his face. He sighed and looked up at Armada. "Has it ever occurred to you that I know nothing about you? How do I know I can," he shook his head as he searched for the words.

"You can't," Armada shot in before he got the last two words in.

"—trust you," Trunks finished and gave her a slighted look, like she'd ripped him off.

There was an awkward silence between the pair, the only sounds in the air those of the ship's engines as they quietly sailed through space. Two sets of blue eyes stared each other down, before Trunks sighed and gave in. He sat back and wiped his right hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry, I let him get to me," Trunks admitted. "But you've killed people. How do I know you won't kill me?"

Armada took in a deep breath and shifted her weight on her feet, then settled her right hand on her hip. "First, you're worth much more to me alive than dead," she said flatly. "And second," she turned slightly, ready to walk back into the bridge after she scooped up her water bottle again, "you're the one working your debt off for me. I should be more afraid of you stabbing me in my sleep and fleeing than you afraid of me." She gave him a second to think on it before she strode out of the lounge and back into the bridge where she settled into the pilot's chair with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Uncomfortable silence was the normal script between Trunks and Armada, and it returned after she'd confronted him. Neither spent any time with Nassas besides taking him food and retrieving the leftovers. After what felt like weeks, they finally approached Taydran space, and Armada had to take over piloting the ship manually for the landing. Trunks sat at one of the other chairs in the bridge, and felt somewhat sorry for their captive spy as they landed—Armada took the ship down hard, and it rattled Trunks's bones a little so he figured Nassas was far worse off than he with nothing to strap himself into back in the barracks.

Once they'd landed, the two mercenaries put the spy back in his arm shackles and escorted him to the door of the ship. Not wanting to wait for a set of stairs to be brought over, the mercenary pair decided to each hold on to one of Nassas's arms and fly him down to the ground, which they did. The spy lurched, "Ugh I don't do well with that kind of stuff." He hung his head and Trunks thought he looked kind of pale; maybe that wasn't a lie.

Trunks finally took a moment to survey their surroundings. The ship had landed at a small port in the middle of a huge metropolis, with skyscrapers that looked tall enough to fall over all around them and in the distance. Directly in front of them was a multi-level building that wasn't nearly as high as the others but would be an intimidating sight on his home world. Several officers—or at least they looked like officers with their black uniforms and guns—stood around somewhat casually but Trunks knew they were keeping an eye on him and Armada.

The open garage/hangar of the building in front of them showed several vehicles inside which ranged from small ships not unlike their own and black cars very similar to the one Armada had back in their hangar on Bmyhad. That's when a group of officials appeared from the shadows inside the garage and made their way out on foot toward Trunks and Armada. The two in front looked like your average paper pushers, or possibly higher-ranked officers who dressed formally instead of in their uniforms. Trunks laughed in his head; they suits didn't look so different from what passed as a suit back home. Funny how little things like that were the same millions of kilometers away from each other.

"Wake up, here come the suits," Armada said to Reine and jerked his arm a little.

"Hey, don't yank so hard," Nassas whined as he brought his head back up. "And it's your fault for making me queasy."

"I thought spies could fly," Armada said with a smirk. Trunks laughed and Nassas merely rolled his eyes and groaned.

The two leaders walking with a group of about a dozen officers behind them finally stood about a meter from Trunks and Armada. There was a man and a woman, both looked fairly young to be really high-ranking officials, but then again Trunks had no idea how things worked on this world. Maybe they aged slower than humans, too?

"I'm Rainn," the woman introduced herself first, then motioned to the man standing at her left, "and this is Dostov." She had a datapad in her hands which she secured under one arm and reached out to shake hands with Armada. The mercenary simply looked at her as if she were crazy, and Rainn laughed before withdrawing her hand. "Typical," she said under her breath.

"The funds have already been deposited in your account," Dostov finally spoke. He was a good bit taller than Trunks, with black hair and green eyes just like Nassas. They didn't really look related, but to anyone not paying attention they might have passed as brothers or cousins. "We just need him," Dostov made a small nod with his head in Reine's direction. Armada and Trunks still had yet to let go of his arms, holding him stationary where he stood between them.

Armada turned to Trunks and nodded, and he let go of his hold on Nassas's right arm. Armada followed suit and the spy stumbled forward a step or two before two of the uniformed officers approached to help him walk away.

Rainn was working on her datapad before she flipped it around and held it out toward Armada. Trunks could read the screen as well, and it appeared that the money had indeed been transferred. Armada nodded and Rainn brought the datapad back to her chest. "Pleasure doing business with you," Armada said flatly. "Let's go," she said to Trunks and turned to leave.

Trunks wasn't as fast to react to her command, and it was probably for the best. The armed officers all pointed their weapons at him and his comrade and he heard the clicking of them loading. Armada spun around, a look of incredulous anger on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.

"Sorry," Rainn said with a smirk, "we can't let you go." She paused and Trunks noticed Dostov had a small pistol pointed at him. "Even if we never recover what we paid you," Rainn continued, looking directly at Armada, "you're worth twenty times that to some of our enemies."

Trunks's face turned to a stony anger and he glanced to Armada who turned around to square her shoulders toward Rainn and she finally spoke. "And you think you can take me? After how many people have tried and failed?" she asked in a tone that would make Trunks shudder if he wasn't on her side.

"Look at how many of my men have their sights on you," Rainn continued in a sing-song voice like she'd just won. "And there's a number of them you _don't_ see," she added. Trunks's eyes shot up to several vantage points on the buildings around them, and in a quick glance caught four snipers with long-range rifles. "So you'll come with us alive, or you'll bleed out on the concrete," Rainn added with a satisfied smile.

Trunks knew he could never know exactly how fast those guns fired, but he also knew he'd be able to get out of the way fast enough to not get hit. The only problem was Armada; he knew she was like him but not nearly as strong or fast. He could flee and she'd get killed. Granted he still had reservations about trusting her, Trunks wasn't about to leave her to her death.

From where Rainn, Dostov, and the rest of the police officers stood, Trunks and Armada disappeared into thin air. Shots rang out where they were standing, peppering the hull of the mercenary ship with dents. "After her!" Dostov shouted and the officers all moved in on the area.

Just inside the still open door of the mercenary ship, Trunks sat on the floor with his back to the ship's hull, with Armada kneeling in front of him, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. As gunfire continued to hit the ship, Armada looked up at Trunks with wide eyes—clearly she was shocked. Trunks was looking at the edge of the door frame, listening to what was happening down below. He turned back to Armada to ask, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said and nodded before she pushed herself away from him and stood up. She reached over his head and hit a few buttons that closed the door, which finished with a hiss of the air lock setting in place. "Let's get the hell out of here," she said and turned and ran the few steps it took to the bridge. Trunks nodded and stood up to follow her.

As Armada threw herself into the pilot's seat, the ship rocked violently. Trunks stopped right behind her and glanced in the direction of the disturbance, knowing immediately it was some sort of explosion just based on the sound alone. A sudden thought hit him, "How do we know they won't blow us out of the sky with missiles or something?"

Armada clenched her teeth as she flipped several switches before she reached for a lever with her right hand. "We don't," she said and slammed the lever forward. The ship jumped to life beneath their feet, and Trunks lost his balance for a moment. "You might want to buckle yourself in," Armada said as the ship started to lift up from the ground violently.

Trunks scrambled into one of the two free seats and sat down, strapping himself in. He opened his mouth to say something but the thought was lost when Armada broke in with, "Don't puke." He had no time to register what she said when the ship blasted forward, slamming the two mercenaries into the backs of their seats. Trunks's vision went blurry for a few seconds, and he knew if he didn't use his own energy to stabilize himself he'd have passed out from the force. The pull only lasted a few seconds before they slowed to what felt like a crawl but Trunks knew was just the end of the rapid acceleration.

Armada fell forward in her seat against the straps keeping her in it and gasped for a few breaths. She wasn't as strong as Trunks, he knew that, and wondered how she managed to _not_ pass out. Then again she seemed to have done this a few times before so maybe she was used to it.

"We're good now," Armada said and swallowed heavily before she adjusted the ship's course. She sat back in her seat and unbuckled herself, but made no attempt to get up from where she sat. Trunks followed suit and unfastened his restraints. He stood slowly and looked down to Armada, she only glanced in his eyes for a second but he had a good idea of what she was thinking. Just how the hell had he gotten the two of them out of there? When he'd grabbed her down on the ground, he'd felt her tense and move to counterattack until she realized he was the one who had her and they were flying back up into the ship. He supposed it'd be frightening to know your subordinate could have killed you any moment now, if they so wished.

He went to move for the galley to get some water, when she spoke and stopped him in his tracks. "Thanks." Trunks looked over to her again but he couldn't see her face since she was focused on the smattering of data on the monitor in front of her.

"No problem," he said and nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He turned and continued his trek to the galley to get something to drink, that sudden acceleration made him feel dehydrated.

When Armada heard him walk out of the bridge, she sat forward and wiped at the sweat on her forehead with her right hand. _He could have left me to die_, she thought. _With that much power, he __could have killed me himself if he'd so wanted to, back at that lab in Ute._ She sighed and changed the display to the ship's outer cameras to watch stars and systems fly by. In that moment that he'd rescued them both from being shot, she felt a twinge of his real power, that he'd kept in check all this time and it was nauseating. She knew there were people in the universe stronger than her, but if what she felt was merely a fraction of his power she wondered why in the hell he wasn't laying waste to everything in sight and claiming power for himself.

Thinking about it gave her a headache, so Armada closed her eyes and tried to relax. An impossible task but more productive than panicking over things she couldn't control.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Silvia


	5. Mission 04: Outlaws Against Outlaws

Working on updating faster.

* * *

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

"Trunks!" Murtole yelled from across the room and sprinted toward the man in question. Trunks took a step back and Murtole launched himself into the much taller man, wrapping his arms around Trunks's chest and clinging for dear life. Murtole looked up with a sad but adoring expression, "I never got to thank you properly for saving my life."

Murtole sniffled a little and Trunks laughed. "It's okay, it was nothing," he said with a smile. The kid was attached, and that was putting it lightly.

"I wondered when we would see you next."

Trunks's eyes shot up to see Devan had entered the room with that trademark knowing smirk of his. "Hey," Trunks called out with a slight wave and a smile that said 'help?'

"Murtole," Devan began in that chiding voice like he was scolding a child.

"Oh, oh!" Murtole exclaimed and released his vice-grip on Trunks. He glanced to Devan, then Trunks again and his face reddened. "Uh, sorry," he said rather sheepishly.

"It's okay," Trunks said with a heartfelt smile. The kid was just thankful Armada hadn't killed him. Another thought hit Trunks; would she really have killed him or was it just a bluff? Honestly, he didn't know and it unsettled him.

"You've got a message from your mother," Devan spoke up again, this time he was only a few feet away from Trunks. The demi-Saiyan supposed that while he was thinking Devan had finished closing the distance between them. "Back in the VR room, everything's already set up," Devan motioned with his head in the direction he'd come from, farther back into the lab.

"Thanks," Trunks said genuinely and walked toward the VR room. It was a small room set up specifically for sending prerecorded video messages over long interstellar distances, hence its namesake, "video recording." Once people were a certain distance away from one another, real-time communication was impossible so the only method left was voice recording, or more commonly now, video recording. Trunks quickly found the small room; it reminded him of the communications room aboard Armada's ship. He briefly thought, shouldn't it be the other way around? Her comm room should remind him of the lab, which he was far more familiar with.

Either way, he sat down at the lone chair in the room in front of a large monitor. He saw his mother's face already up on the screen, apparently all he had to do was push play. How did Devan seem to know whenever Trunks was going to show up unannounced? The man had an uncanny knack for it. Trunks told the video to play and sat back to hear from his mother.

_First Trunks, let me say I love you and I'm glad to know you're okay. Second, the moment you get home I'm going to kick your ass, and everyone has agreed to help. What are you doing, out there getting into trouble? I sent you on one little errand... You're just like your father, you know. Getting involved in things outside of your own life. For him, it ended up for the best. I suppose I can only hope the same happens for you. _

_I love you kiddo, now be safe and don't make me worry. And send me a message as soon as you get this, Devan will tell me if you don't._

Bulma blew a kiss to the screen before the video stopped and the monitor went back to the file system where Devan had loaded the video. Trunks smiled to himself, but couldn't shake the guilt of leaving his mother by herself. She seemed to understand though, that he had to do this. Sure he could run away but it would eat at him from the inside out, helping some guy steal from Armada then leaving her to fend for herself. She might not have been the most deserving person in the universe but that was just an excuse, wasn't it?

* * *

Illumination

Mission 04: Outlaws Against Outlaws

* * *

Trunks was sitting in the lounge watching one of the local news networks when Armada finally returned from wherever she'd been. He'd already been back for most of the afternoon after his visit to the lab to see his friends and send a message back home to his mother. Armada wandered into the lounge and set down a large duffel bag she was carrying, and it landed on the table Trunks sat at with a loud thud. He glanced up at her, "What'd you buy, weights?"

Armada opened the bag and pulled out a metal can almost the size of her head. "Paint," she said flatly and set the can down in front of Trunks. "After I get the dents out of the hull of the ship, courtesy of our friends on Taydr," she explained, "I'll need to repaint a few areas of the hull. Got some extra paint for the future so I don't have to run out and buy some whenever the ship gets scraped up," she finished. After a moment's silence, she queried, "What are you up to?"

"I guess it's a good thing you bought the extra paint," Trunks said and pointed the small remote to the large monitor on the wall. "Watch," he said and turned the volume up.

"_Taydran officials report that a mercenary group attempted to kidnap one of their detectives four days ago local time. The incident happened at police headquarters in Hrimth, the capital of the nation as reported by their national press yesterday evening. Officials have released video footage of the spacecraft the mercenary group owns in hopes that the public can give tips as to where to find the suspects. Officials are telling the public that if they have any information to contact Detective Norman Dostov via the Hrimth Police Department's network site."_

Video footage played while the broadcaster read the story, and it was clearly their ship being fired upon by several police officers. "Pause it," Armada said and Trunks did as instructed. She walked closer to the monitor to get a good look at the image of her ship in the middle of a firefight. "Why would they release this?" Armada said softly, more like she was thinking out loud than talking to Trunks. "It doesn't make any sense," she turned back to Trunks.

"I guess they want help tracking us down," Trunks offered with a slight shrug.

"Yeah but anyone who could possibly have the ability to track down and capture a spacecraft of this size would already know who they're after, and wouldn't turn us into Taydr when they could have the bounty themselves," she said with a concentrated and thoughtful look on her face. "Play the rest of the video," Armada said and turned back to the monitor. Trunks resumed the broadcast and the pair watched as the ship blasted its engines, sending several people flying away while scorching the earth underneath before shooting up into the atmosphere. Afterward, the news broadcast continued with other stories and Trunks muted the sound.

"That's the first time anyone's offered up a picture of my ship to the entire universe," she said flatly and with irritation. She shifted her weight on her feet and looked back at Trunks once again. "Guess we'll be repainting the entire ship then."

"Whoa," Trunks held up his hands in a 'stop' motion, "what do you mean 'we?' Can't you get a professional to do it?"

Armada smirked. "I have all the equipment I need here. Besides, we're wanted criminals. I'm not dumb enough to go to a repair dock with a giant target on my back that says 'please capture us now, we're idiots,'" she finished, using a higher pitch in her voice for the last part. Trunks laughed; was she actually making a joke? _That_ was a first.

"It's not hard," Armada continued, presumably talking about painting the ship. "And it'll go twice as fast with the two of us working on it," she smirked again. "And seeing as how I'm your boss, you don't get to say no," she added.

Trunks sighed, "I suppose you're right," he said. Truthfully she couldn't make him do anything and they both knew it, but since he was living on the ship it might be a good idea to help repaint it and keep the heat off of them, since if she was captured then he was too.

Several minutes later the pair was standing down on one of the metal catwalks below the ship in the hangar on Ute. Armada knelt next to a pile of cylinders and hoses, putting several pieces together. Trunks looked up at the ship; it was a good size and would likely take well into the night to finish painting. "Put this on," he heard Armada speak and looked down to face her.

She stood up and hefted a large tube attached to what looked like a flight harness that belonged to a paratrooper. Trunks blinked a few times, "What's that?"

"The paint can," she said matter-of-factly. "You fasten the top belt around your waist, the lower one around your hips and the canister hangs off of your hip," she motioned to the parts while she described them. She lifted a nozzle with a long hose leading from the canister, "And you hold down the trigger to paint." She squeezed the trigger and aimed at a portion of the catwalk railing next to them causing a jet black stripe of paint about eighteen inches in width to appear on the rail. She looked back up to Trunks and held out the nozzle and gear for him.

"Black?" Trunks questioned as he took the item from her hands. As soon as she let go, Armada turned around and knelt in front of the mess of parts again, which didn't look so messy now, and began assembling her own paint pack.

"Interstellar Investigators Association standard paint scheme," Armada said as she finished attaching a hose to the end of the paint canister. "If bounty hunters are looking for us, best to hide among them where they're less likely to look," she finished her work and turned and stood, holding her own paint pack by the belts in front of Trunks.

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" Trunks joked as she fastened her own belt around her waist before getting the second wrapped around her hips.

"Not exactly," Armada replied. Finished attaching her pack, she looked back up at him. "You start at the bow near the bridge," she pointed to the ship, "and go from top to bottom. I'll get the stern where the engines are," she finished and slowly floated up into the air.

"Wait," Trunks called out and she stopped and hovered only a meter above the catwalk. "Shouldn't we be wearing masks or something?" he asked earnestly. Especially in the closed space of the hangar, they'd choke to death on paint fumes.

Armada shook her head. "No fumes and no particulates to worry about," she said and squeezed the trigger on her paint nozzle into the air. "Environmentally sound," she said before she turned and flew off. "Just aim at the hull and you'll be fine," she threw over her shoulder as she flew toward the back of the ship. Trunks looked at the paint nozzle in his hand and shrugged before he flew toward the front of the ship.

* * *

After several hours, without any fumes as Trunks was doubtful of what she'd said at first, he and Armada were nearly done painting the ship. He was on the underside of the middle, finishing up the last few lines as Armada came down from the other side to meet underneath. As she moved along, spraying an even coat with her nozzle, she glanced over to Trunks from the corner of her eyes. "Just make sure you don't accidentally paint me," she said while she continued to work.

Bored from the quiet monotony of painting, and tempted by her words despite them holding no humorous intent, Trunks smirked. "Okay," he said and slowed his pace on the last strip he was painting down the hull. He went slow enough to wait for Armada to come back down the other side, and since she was looking up at the ship and ignoring him he had the perfect opportunity. He quickly swung the nozzle down, away from the ship's hull while still holding the trigger. Armada moved at the last second but not fast enough, and her left arm and a good portion of her chest and abdomen were coated in black paint.

Armada looked up at him shocked, until she saw the smirk on his face. "Oh you think you're funny, do you?" she said with a rather malicious smirk, and Trunks wasn't quite sure if she understood it was just a joke and not an intentional move to hurt her.

"Sorry," he shrugged facetiously, "I guess I'm just a rookie with this thing." He brandished the painting 'wand' toward her as if he was completely confused as to how to use it.

"Then I suppose I'll have to teach you!" Armada grinned and flew at him. Trunks fled, but she was fast—faster than he thought she would be. He barely got away from her first attempt to paint him, and the tip of his left boot turned black.

"Hey that was my shoe!" he countered playfully, stopping momentarily. He'd lost sight of her and she suddenly appeared behind him. Just as she pulled the trigger on the nozzle he disappeared again, and the chase was on. Trunks flew under the ship back to the other side of the hangar, near the catwalk where they left their paint supplies. He stopped again to listen for movement, to get the jump on where she'd be coming from. Honestly, if he wanted to he could fly circles around her, but where was the fun in that?

Distracted by his thoughts for a moment, Armada came flying in from his left and slammed her right palm across his face. Trunks stepped back to realize she'd wiped something thick and oily on him. She laughed and he reached up to wipe at the liquid. "Nice," he said in defeat as he saw black paint on his fingertips, matching the smear of black paint on her arm where she had taken some of what he'd shot her with to smear on him.

As Trunks wiped at the paint stretching from the bottom of his forehead at his eyebrows down to the top of his upper lip, he heard Armada laughing at him. Laughing! Not even ten minutes ago he still would have thought that impossible. "Don't worry, it's not harmful to you," she said after she finished laughing.

Trunks closed his right eye as the paint dripped and raised his left eyebrow before he laughed. "You got me," he admitted and laughed quietly.

"Here," Armada said and reached up with her left hand, the one without any paint on it. She wiped across his eyebrows to keep the paint from dripping into his eyes. Trunks laughed slightly and Armada cracked a very small smile. Since she'd wiped the paint from his face, the pair had only a foot between them. For a moment, to Trunks, it felt like time stopped because they were silent and they just looked into each others eyes.

The silence was broken when something rang out, and after a moment they both realized it was Armada's phone. She flew down to where she'd left it on the catwalk where she had assembled their painting packs, and furiously wiped her right hand on her shirt to get as much paint off as she could before she picked up the phone. By the time she had her phone in her hands, Trunks landed at her side.

Armada flipped open her phone and clicked a button to set it on speakerphone. "Mace," she said, holding the phone out from her chest about twelve inches, "you'd better have a good job for me."

"_Only the best, of course,"_ Trunks heard a man on the other end of the conversation laugh.

Armada looked over at Trunks. "Mace is my broker," she started, "he finds good paying jobs for me."

"_Who are you talking to?"_ the voice on the phone asked.

"My new employee. Now tell me what you've got or shut up, I'm busy," Armada wiped at her forehead with the back of her right forearm, still holding the phone in her hand.

"_Got a good one for you. Compensation starts at two hundred thousand,"_ Mace said and sounded kind of happy about it. _"All you have to do is provide some extra security for a local bank in Ute. They've had threats of a robbery so the bank president is concerned his own security isn't quite enough."_

"Sounds good. Send me the rest of the information over the network," Armada said and snapped her phone shut. She studied the phone for a moment before she looked back up to Trunks. "Looks like we've got work to do."

* * *

Trunks hovered over Armada's shoulder as she sat at one of the three main consoles in the bridge of the ship. "So what's our assignment?" he asked as she scanned through the message sent from her 'broker,' her word for the middle man between her and her contractors themselves.

"The Mallean First Bank of Ute needs some extra security," Armada said with disinterest. "Apparently they've had a number of threats of a robbery and they feel the threats are legitimate. They want some temporary extra security." She read on farther in silence before she sat back in her chair and looked up over her left shoulder at Trunks. "Looks like we'll need to go shopping; they want us to blend in with the staff."

"What do we need, uniforms?" Trunks asked somewhat surprised.

Armada cocked her head to the side. "No, just some nice suits. Well," she paused briefly, "really only you need to get new clothes, I've got things for these types of occasions." She turned back to the monitor and continued reading the last bits of information Mace had sent over. "I guess it's a good thing this came along now, you really need something to replace what you brought with you anyway."

"What?" Trunks said with shock and indignation. "You have a problem with my clothes?" he asked as a few blood vessels stood out on his forehead. Was she trying to insult him?

"Yes," Armada said as casually as if she were confirming her order for lunch. "You look like you just crawled out of some backwater world that learned to fly yesterday." She paused for a moment and Trunks opened his mouth to speak but no words came to him. "You stand out," she continued, "and that's not what we want."

Trunks narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms over his chest. "I happen to be a very good looking guy who dresses himself well, thank you." Truthfully, he didn't really believe the words as they came out of his mouth. He was generally still wearing the same things he'd worn since he was a teenager... he'd never given his clothes that much thought before. He was busy with more important things back then.

"You can think whatever you want," Armada continued, "but at least for this mission you do need new clothes." She looked him up and down a moment before she spoke again. "With your body type you'll definitely need to get your things tailored to you. I know a good place," she finished and stood.

"What, right now?" Trunks asked.

Armada eyed him warily. "You have somewhere else you need to be?"

Trunks rolled his eyes and walked past her toward the door of the ship. She knew the answer to that question; she didn't need to chide him like he was a child.

* * *

Trunks walked a half-pace behind Armada and off to her right side as they strode up to the front doors of the Mallean First Bank of Ute downtown in the city. It was the middle of the day, a little unusual for a mission to start at that time for them, but this time they weren't breaking into buildings or otherwise sneaking around like criminals. _Criminals_, Trunks thought as it finally hit him full-force. He'd be doing a lot of illegal things in this line of work, in addition to those he'd _already_ done, and his mother most certainly would not be happy. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut; he only knew things would get worse from here on out. Then again, he reminded himself, he got himself into this mess and running from it like a coward just didn't seem like an option.

As the pair walked through the front doors they were greeted by a man who introduced himself as the head of security. He led the pair through the main lobby and into a narrow hallway down the side of the building where they were processed through a scanner. After they were taken to a small waiting room and told to wait until instructed to enter the bank president's office. The head of security left and the mercenaries stood and waited; neither was one to sit in a situation such as this.

Armada stood with her back toward Trunks and glanced around the room. She appeared to be analyzing everything in sight, like she was always on guard. Trunks was still a very astute observer, but he hadn't been so obsessed with monitoring his immediate surroundings for many years now. That made him wonder, what was Armada so afraid of? Or rather, if she wasn't nervous now, which she didn't seem to be—what had made such an impact on her in the past that she was still carrying over nervous behaviors?

He didn't get much time to think about it when the double doors leading into the bank president's office opened and a brunette middle-aged woman walked out. She informed the pair that they were to enter to meet with president and made her way out. As she walked out she made eye contact with Trunks, and stared at him with an intensity that he didn't understand. Mercenaries weren't beloved, he knew that, but this seemed to be about something else. He didn't get any time to analyze it as Armada was already three steps into the president's office before Trunks had moved an inch.

When Trunks walked in the bank president stood from his desk and motioned toward the double doors with his right hand and spoke, "Close the door please." Trunks nodded and pulled the double doors shut behind him and the president seated himself once more.

The bank president, a middle-aged man with dusty brown hair and brown eyes, swallowed thickly as he looked at the two mercenaries standing in his office. "Please, have a seat," he said nervously. Armada didn't move a muscle and Trunks merely shifted his weight on his feet. The president nervously acknowledged that they didn't wish to sit and moved on to the business at hand.

"I've got a serious problem on my hands," he said hurriedly. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead. He looked back up at Armada nervously, then glanced to Trunks.

"This isn't about a robbery threat, is it," Armada broke in and caught the president's eyes again. She didn't ask a question; the way she delivered it said that it was a statement of fact despite the last two words of her sentence.

The president looked mildly agitated and glanced between the two mercenaries before settling on Armada. "No, it isn't. Well, it is but it isn't." He paused for a moment and glanced down at his desk; Trunks supposed he was trying to build his courage before he looked up and spoke once more. "This institution has a substantial account with... the Orelnenn family."

Trunks noticed Armada's face settled into a very displeased scowl before she spoke. "You realize what you've done now, right? If things weren't this bad you wouldn't have had to hire us." She turned her head and Trunks heard her swear under her breath, though he didn't think the bank president heard it. "So what's going on?" she asked after returning her attention to the president.

"The Orelnenns lost a significant amount of money in an investment that went belly-up," the president spoke once more. "They want to rob the bank and take back their money along with the rest of the money of the other accounts here to make up the difference in what they lost."

"You idiot," Armada scolded the bank president darkly, "this is exactly why you don't do business with criminals. Or," she continued, "at least if you do, you don't involve innocent people in the process. Let me guess, if you don't let them rob the place, they've threatened to kill you?"

The president nodded. "And my employees, and their families."

Armada shifted her weight on her feet as she lifted one of the arms crossed over her chest so her fist was near her mouth, as if she were thinking. Trunks was a bit surprised at her statement of leaving out innocents if one were to do business with criminals. Was it a matter of honor, or just practicality? Thinking over everything that was just said, another question came to Trunks. "Wait, who are the Orelnenns?" he asked, bringing Armada out of her thoughts.

"Utian organized crime," she responded flatly. "No matter where you go in the universe, anywhere there is a legitmate, established government, there will always be some level of organized crime working beneath it." She paused a moment and turned to look at Trunks. "The Orelnenn family has a long history of working in Bmyhad, and they're centered in Ute. This moron," she glanced to the bank president and back, "just threw in with one of the most powerful mafias this side of the Republic."

"How was I to know what would happen?" the bank president shot back with a face red from anger. Apparently he had something of a spine to stand up to Armada. That, or he really had no idea who he was talking to.

"What did you expect, you fucking idiot?" Armada screamed back at him. Trunks was a bit taken back from her anger. It seemed... misplaced. "You cast your lot in with a gang and expect them to behave themselves? I should let the Orelnenns kill you."

"Please, don't!" he cried out, tears beginning to well in his eyes. "I'll pay you anything, please, just stop them."

"The risk of this job has increased considerably compared to what the stated parameters were," Armada continued in a much colder voice. "The new price is five hundred thousand, non-negotiable."

The bank president looked furious, but swallowed his pride and assented. "Fine. But we can't have any casualties, you understand?"

"That's fine," Armada replied coolly. "When should we expect them to attempt the robbery?"

"Sometime in the next ten days," the bank president replied. "Though I'd suspect sometime sooner knowing the Orelnenns."

"What have you told them about us?" Armada continued. Trunks hadn't given it any thought, but it was a good question. If they told the bank president they were planning a robbery, wouldn't they notice he wasn't cooperating by hiring a pair of mercenaries?

"Personal protection," the president supplied. "Honestly they won't think much of you, and won't consider you a concern."

"Your head of security needs to show us all of your surveillance and where it's set up, as well as the building's construction schematics and any security weaknesses you have," Armada continued. "If we're going to stop this, we need to know everything they could possibly exploit."

The bank president's face twisted in anger. "If we do that then you could rob us blind before the Orelnenns do!"

"Why would I do that and piss off Orelnenns myself? You really are an idiot," Armada finished and turned to leave. She stopped after one step and looked over her should at the bank president once more. "Whatever the Orelnenns told you to do to prepare for the robbery, do it. You don't want them to think anything has changed." With that, she walked up to the double doors and pushed them open, striding out. Trunks followed quickly after her.

"What the hell have I done?" the bank president quietly said to himself as he lowered his face into his hands. Mercenaries versus mafia? This would spell nothing else but disaster.

* * *

Once outside the bank president's office, Armada stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared at nothing in particular, apparently lost in thought. Trunks walked up beside Armada while the same brunette woman from before he looked at him oddly walked past them and back into the president's office, closing the door behind her. He turned his attention back from the unknown woman to his comrade.

"So what do you think?" Trunks asked, knowing that obviously she hadn't said everything that was on her mind to the bank president.

She stayed silent a moment before uncrossing her arms and turning to face her comrade. "The Orelnenns value their family name so the highest positions within the organization can only be held by family members. However," she paused briefly, "they do have their fair share of energy fighters among their ranks. Nobody that we can't handle individually, but together they could pose a problem."

"When do you think they'll strike? At night, when nobody is here?" Trunks asked. If he had to rob a bank, although he'd never thought about it before, he would do so at night when the bank was closed to avoid all the people that would be inside and get in the way.

"Normally, I'd agree with you that they would try to pull it off at night," Armada replied.

"But this isn't a normal robbery," Trunks supplied with a knowing nod.

"Exactly," Armada spoke once more. "Think about it; they're trying to take their own money out and take as much as they can of the rest in order to make up an investment loss. If they come in at night when everything is locked down they'll have to blast open the vault, and risk destroying a significant amount of the cash inside. They don't want to do that, so they'll plan for the robbery during the day when the vault is open."

"There's no other way to open the vault besides destroying it?" Trunks asked. He wasn't an expert in these matters, but the vault was open during the bank's working hours, so there had to be a way to open it otherwise.

"It's set to a timer, so it only opens and closes once a day during working days," Armada answered. "The timer isn't even controlled by anyone at the bank, it's set when the vault is installed and can only be changed the company who installed the vault. This way, nobody at the facility is actually responsible or even has authority to open the vault on their own." She paused a moment. "The idea originally was to stop robberies, however instead of preventing robberies, they simply concentrated all robberies to occur during the day instead of during both day and night." Armada stopped talking a moment to let all of that information sink in before she summed up her words with one sentence. "They'll attack during the day, they have to."

"How do you know all of this? You rob a lot of banks?" Trunks asked with a laugh.

"What kind of mercenary would I be if I didn't know this information?" Armada asked flatly. Before either mercenary could continue their conversation, they were interrupted by a third person in the room who made his presence known by clearing his throat.

The pair turned to see the man who'd led them back to the bank president's office earlier. "I'm Kelk, head of security," he introduced himself a second time. "Come with me, I've gotten word that we have a lot of information to go over." He turned and headed back down that small hallway and Trunks and Armada both quickly fell into step behind him. Trunks got the feeling from the way the guy spoke and carried himself that he wasn't happy with the situation. Well, nobody would be happy to know a mafia planned to rob their establishment, but Trunks felt that Kelk's unhappiness had more to do with the mercenaries' presence than it did the actual threat of a robbery.

* * *

That first day, Trunks and Armada spent hours with Kelk going over all of the information Armada had said they'd need. Trunks was glad his mother was a genius, because while he felt exhausted after going over all that data, he still felt he had a good grasp of all of it, including the floor plan of the building. He was sure it was genetic and had to do with his mother's side of the family. That, and even though the androids were terrorizing Earth while he grew up, Bulma still made him study and taught him herself in the basement labs of Capsule Corp. And after the androids and Cell she made him study even more, stating that he'd need to know a lot more than he did if he wanted to be useful outside of construction in their new world. Who knew how right she was, though he doubted she'd expected he'd be where he was now.

Late that first night, Trunks rolled over for the umpteenth time that night. They'd long since returned to the ship, since Armada was sure they didn't need to camp out at the bank overnight. Trunks had been trying to sleep for a while now, but had thus far been unsuccessful. Something about this job bothered him on an unconscious level, he just couldn't figure out what in order to make that part of him shut up so he could get some sleep. Feeling frustrated more than anything else, he finally sat up and decided to go grab something to eat. He didn't feel hungry, but he wasn't _not _hungry, so maybe a midnight snack would help.

When Trunks walked into the lounge he found Armada still wearing her suit from earlier, seated at the small table in the lounge with a small computer in front of her. "Still going over everything?" Trunks asked as he walked past and into the galley to rummage for something to eat.

"I have to be prepared," she answered lowly while keeping her attention focused on the computer in front of her. As Trunks found a fruit resembling an apple and grabbed a bottle of water, he wondered if she didn't catch on as quickly as he did. It was a bit surprising, but then again maybe he was on to something earlier thinking his brain was a bit more advanced due to some genetics. His mother and grandfather were both literal geniuses, and his father wasn't exactly stupid.

"There wasn't that much to go over, was there?" Trunks asked as he walked back into the lounge. He leaned back against the wall opposite of where Armada sat and took a bite of the fruit in his left hand.

Armada sighed before she looked up at him. "No, but I can't shake this feeling that we're missing something." She watched Trunks for a moment before adding, "You too?"

Trunks didn't realize he'd done anything to indicate he was in agreement, but he probably wasn't as guarded about his facial expressions as she was. "Yeah," he replied through a mouthful of fruit, "something just... bugs me. I don't know what, I can't think of logically what we would have missed."

Armada looked back down at the computer in front of her. "Gut instincts aren't a bad thing. Sometimes they save your life."

Trunks thought about her words. He'd thought, from what he knew about her so far, that she'd be dismissive of his feeling that something was off as illogical. Go figure that she felt the same. He still knew barely anything about her, and he was fairly certain she wouldn't sit down and have a long conversation with him to talk all about herself. She kind of reminded him of Piccolo with her standoffish nature, and he laughed to himself.

He must have actually laughed out loud, as Armada's head snapped up. "You should get some rest," she said coolly before looking back down at her computer.

She started typing something and Trunks stood up from where he previously leaned back against the wall. "You should do the same," Trunks replied before he took another bite of his snack. He started to walk out and stopped one last time to look back at Armada. Whatever she was doing, she was certainly engrossed as she didn't look at him again. He knew better than to assume she was distracted by her work, but it fascinated him. He hadn't seen her quite this focused before. Then again, they were waiting for someone else to make the first move, where so far they had been on the offensive in all of their assignments.

After his brief reverie, Trunks continued on his way back to the barracks and his room. By the time he entered and sat on the edge of his bed, he was done eating and threw the core of his apple-like fruit in the trash can in the corner. He laid back in bed and drank from his water bottle, and seriously wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Trunks walked nonchalantly to one of the back offices of the First Mallean Bank of Ute. It was his fifth day on duty waiting for a mafia organized robbery to take place, which he was assigned to thwart. The first few days weren't bad, but tension was building as he and his comrade waited. And not just for them, but for everyone at the bank who knew what was about to happen. The bank president had taken a convenient vacation, which Trunks had cursed when he found out. How would they appear to be the president's personal security if he wasn't _there_? Armada said it was unfortunate but couldn't be helped, so they continued on with the job. Ditching it at this point might make their true intent more obvious, and Armada said there was no point in getting all the heat with none of the reward. Trunks agreed, but that didn't make the tension ease up any.

Trunks entered the small office and closed the door behind him when he entered. _"Stay on your guard, they're here,"_ he heard the voice of Kelk crackle over the small radio earpiece he had in his right ear. Just minutes ago, six men in dark suits walked in the front doors to the bank. Kelk had identified them as members of the Orelnenn syndicate and ordered everyone to move into position. Trunks was to stay put in a back office that the Orelnenn regulars never used nearest the vault. He couldn't see what was going on outside of his position, but he was in the best proximity to the vault if they made their move.

"_This might not be the strike, so keep cool,"_ he heard Armada's voice come over the radio as well. Over the past few days every now and then different Orelnenn low ranking 'gophers' would come in to withdraw or deposit funds. They had to be careful not to overreact if this was normal business for the Orelnenns. At the same time, they still needed to be ready, and up until now they had never seen more than two organization members in the bank at any one time. Which was why everyone moved into position when half a dozen strolled in with smiles on their faces.

Trunks did the math in his head as he stood in the office and tried to look busy if someone came in. There was himself, Armada, Kelk, and nine other security guards, three of which were in suits like he and Armada while the rest were in their normal uniforms with Kelk. Kelk had said there wasn't much of a point in having them dress incognito since the security guards might be recognized anyway, which would only serve to tip off the mafia that they were planning to stop the robbery. The three guards who worked the least were put in suits just to make it seem like security was not overly heavy. It would be easier for them to blend in with the patrons as well.

Trunks heard his radio crackle again and waited for someone to speak, but all he heard was light static for a few seconds. Suddenly he heard a dull thud over the radio and the signal cut out. Trunks immediately knew something was wrong, but he didn't want to speak lest he miss something important coming over the radio. He heard his radio crackle again like someone was about to speak, but after a few seconds it cut out again. He couldn't wait any longer; clearly something was going on. He reached for the door when it flew open and someone rushed in and pushed a piece of plastic against his nose and mouth.

Trunks quickly realized it was Armada holding a small plastic mask to his face matching one she was wearing, though hers was actually strapped on. She kicked the door shut behind her and glanced back up at Trunks. Her eyes were squinted almost shut, and she seemed to have a pained expression on her face. Before Trunks could say anything she preempted him, "Gas, through the ventilation system."

The realization hit him like a bag of bricks to the back of the head. They never looked at the ventilation system beyond noting it on the building's schematics. He figured that must have been what nagged at him and Armada both several days ago, but it was too late to worry about that now. Trunks put his left hand on his mask and used his right hand to pull the strap over his head and secure the mask to his face.

Able to let go of his mask, Armada immediately stumbled backwards before she caught herself somewhat and used the door behind her as leverage to lean on. "It should dissipate in about fifteen minutes," she said in a strained voice. She suddenly cringed as if she were in pain and slid down the door to the floor.

Trunks closed the small distance between them and knelt down beside her. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked with worry. Clearly she hadn't gotten her mask on as quickly as he had his... thanks to her quick thinking.

"It's a paralytic," she said through closed eyed and strained breaths. "I breathed in too much. You'll have to handle everything," she said as her fists unclenched.

Trunks quickly realized she was only getting worse, and not better as time wore on. If he had to do this himself, he needed to put her somewhere relatively safe, and fast. He put his right arm under her left arm and pulled her up to stand on her feet. She couldn't stand on her own, and he pulled her closer and wrapped her left arm around the back of his shoulders and neck. Holding her left arm with his left hand, he put his right arm around her waist and helped her walk to the corner of the office and a small closet.

After opening the closet door and setting her down inside, her back against the back wall, Trunks let go and stood over her. "Stay here, I'll come back for you," he said and waited for a reaction. She could only look up at him through labored breaths; either she couldn't talk or didn't have the energy. Either way he closed the door on her and turned his attention to the task at hand.

"Anybody else still standing?" Trunks asked into his radio. He waited a moment for a reply, and after receiving none, he assumed the worst—he was the only one left. Well, him against six guys wouldn't be too bad, he supposed. Even if they had energy fighters among them, they couldn't be a match for him—if they were then they wouldn't be serving anyone else but themselves. His real concern was making sure that none of the patrons or employees would get hurt during this operation.

Trunks walked to the door to the office and stopped in front of it. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense everyone in the building. He had a clear read on everyone who was unmoving, and just as he started to get a good idea of where the mafia members were, he was interrupted by shouting. "You've got four minutes before this place goes up, now move!"

Trunks's eyes opened in shock. '_Before this place goes up...'_ he thought for a moment before he quickly realized what that meant—the building was going to explode. In four minutes. Less than that, actually, if they were speaking in Bmyhadian minutes, which were shorter than Earth minutes. Trunks started to feel sick. He could sense the mafia members and take them out in that amount of time, but how the hell would he find a bomb in time? And he couldn't disarm it, he'd have to remove it—if he even _could_ move it without it going off early.

Trunks clenched his teeth. _Calm down,_ he told himself. He needed to stay composed to think. He had no time and he had to find a bomb. A bomb that had to have been planted before he and Armada arrived five days ago, otherwise they'd have seen it being done. Unless they brought it with them today; he didn't see the six men enter the bank but when the call went out to get into position one of the guards noted that two men carried duffel bags—not uncommon for their deposits and withdrawals, but what if they carried the bomb in? Scanners at the front of the bank were supposed to catch these types of things, but Trunks knew that technology wasn't foolproof. They could have hidden it somehow.

He was wasting too much time, and even though he wasn't entirely sure if he could pull this off, Trunks knew he couldn't keep standing still. He had to act, even if in vain. He quickly stepped out of the office and into the hallway and glanced both directions. He was essentially behind the vault in the back of the bank. He headed down the hall to his right, the fastest way to the vault, when he heard someone around the corner of the hallway talking. He stopped at the corner to listen.

"...evidence do you need?"

Trunks's eyebrows came together in consternation.

"I said what evidence do you need?" the man repeated a little louder. Trunks took a brief glance around the corner to confirm what he sensed—the man was by himself. He must have been talking into some kind of radio.

"I told them I set it for four minutes, but it's actually six. I'll go back to deactivate it after you come in," the man whispered.

_Is he talking to the police?_ Trunks thought in confusion. Before Trunks could process it any further, another man walked down the hall to the one who Trunks was eavesdropping on.

"Li," Trunks heard the new man speak, "you've done a good job. But we don't need traitors."

Trunks thought he heard the first man try to speak before six gunshots went off, muffled by what sounded like a silencer. Trunks saw the bullet holes in the back wall of the hallway across from him and heard a body slowly slump to the ground.

The death of the man Trunks was listening in on confirmed what he was thinking—one of the crew involved in the robbery was working with the authorities. Then how much did local police know about what was happening? If Utian police was even who this guy was talking to.

Just then, the ground shook slightly as Trunks heard an explosion. It didn't sound nearly large enough to level the bank, but he panicked all the same that he was too late. Even if the timer was six minutes and not four, he was quickly running out of time. He heard some kind of shouting at the front of the bank, but the words were soon distorted by gunfire. Had the police broken in during the robbery? Whatever was happening, it was time for him to move.

Trunks whirled around the corner of the hallway to see the man with the gun still standing there. He was shocked to see Trunks, but the demi-Saiyan didn't even give the mafioso time to express his shock. Trunks appeared in front of the man and landed a punishing uppercut to the man's stomach, knocking him out with one blow—a difficult feat for Trunks since it would be far too easy to accidentally kill the man.

Trunks flew down the hall and took two hard lefts to wind up in the vault. When he stopped, he found two men with duffel bags loading up as much money as they could, but they had no weapons on them. Trunks found out why as soon as both of them powered up and fired energy blasts at him. Their strength was so low compared to Trunks he quickly swatted away their attacks which hit the side wall of the vault and exploded, the resulting force sending cash flying around the room like snow in a blizzard.

Trunks appeared in front of the man closest to him, and with three quick punches he'd laid him out. Before the second man could cry out, Trunks was upon him with the same three quick punches which had dispatched his comrade. As both men fell to the floor, Trunks glanced around. If they were going to blow the place, the best place to do so and cover their tracks would be the vault, wouldn't it? Either he had the right idea or he was lucky, as Trunks suddenly noticed a small metal box on the floor in one corner that looked like an undersized briefcase.

The mercenary moved fast, and was kneeling in front of the box in a flash. He lifted it, and it felt extremely heavy for its size. He lifted what looked like a lid to see another metallic box inside, only this one had a small video display that was counting down, and fast. Determining that what he found had to be the bomb, Trunks stalled for a moment. What was he going to do? He couldn't disarm it, he didn't know how. He couldn't turn it off, assuming there was nobody left who knew how to do so, and he certainly didn't know.

The numbers quickly approached zero, and sensing he only had seconds left to get rid of this thing, Trunks did the only thing he could think of. He lifted the bomb in his arms and stood before looking up with his right hand outstretched and he fired a massive energy blast into the roof of the vault.

* * *

After Trunks had left her in the closet, Armada cursed inwardly. Her body wasn't responding to what she told it to do, and she knew exactly why—but it pissed her off to no end anyway. After what felt like hours of struggling, some feeling started to come back and Armada pushed herself to her feet. Just as she opened the door to the closet, three men with guns burst into the office, knocking the door off its hinges. They leveled automatic rifles at Armada and she could do nothing but grimace in return. They said something to themselves before they put their weapons away and two of the three men ran over to her to assist her in walking.

Moments later Armada was outside the front of the bank with the rest of the civilians, behind police lines as Utian police continued their raid. She was able to take off her mask but still had trouble moving due to the paralytic gas. Her limbs felt heavier than the heaviest metals, and her joints felt like they were grinding when she moved, not to mention the excruciating pain. The civilians and employees pulled out were loaded into ambulances bound for local hospitals, most of them unmoving like stones. Normal people couldn't really take a paralytic gas this potent. Normal being the keyword.

Armada sat in the back of a police car with the door open. She wondered if Trunks was able to stop the Orelnenns before the police entered. She was starting to wonder what was going on when she felt an enormous energy make itself known inside. She started to panic; the Orelnenns had sent energy fighters after all. Armada forced herself to her feet despite the pain, but before she could do anything else a powerful blast of energy shot straight into the sky, disintegrating a good portion of the bank's roof.

When Armada realized it was Trunks who fired the blast and flew out, she could only stare in confusion. _What the hell is he doing?_ she thought with a sense of panic. Trunks was maybe a quarter of a mile into the sky when suddenly he exploded. The crowd of onlookers that had gathered by now collectively gasped, and officers started shouting as burning debris fell from the sky above downtown Ute.

Before Armada could think about what she'd just seen, Trunks appeared next to her, looking no worse for wear except for a few spots of dirt on his white suit. He pulled the plastic mask off of his face and looked to his comrade. Armada found it hard to breathe—still suffering the effects of the paralytic gas—and fell back a step to lean against the open door of the police cruiser she stood next to.

Trunks finished brushing some of the dirt from his clothing before he took a step toward Armada. "Are you okay?" he asked again, a repeat of what he'd said to her only minutes before.

"I'll live," Armada replied with a wince. Talking hurt a bit more than she suspected it would.

"That was a good show."

Trunks spun around to the voice behind him to see two officers. They were in suits, not uniforms, but they had their badges hanging around their necks. And he recognized exactly who they were. "Detective Neiman, Lieutenant Strife," he said, the tone of his voice indicating that he'd hardly expected them to be here.

"Good to see you again," Lieutenant Strife added with a knowing smile.

"You tricked us," Armada cut in before anyone else could say anything. The combination of pain she still felt and her anger at the realization that she had been manipulated created a look on her face that worried Trunks, and would have scared him if she was more powerful than he was. Dare he say, she looked downright murderous at the moment. He prepared himself to step in if things got bad.

"We did," Detective Neiman spoke. "And I'm not sorry for it. You both did an excellent job and absolutely deserve every bit of your pay."

Armada grimaced and forced herself to stand upright and take a few steps toward Neiman. Trunks made sure to stay put; she would have trouble pushing past him to get to the Utian officers. "I should kill you where you stand," Armada ground out through gritted teeth.

"But you won't, because it would cause undue complications in your life, especially since you're stranded here until you make enough money to leave," Neiman quickly retorted. Trunks was shocked at his bravado, but Armada stayed silent where she stood. Then again, it sounded as if Neiman knew more about Armada than he let on, and if Trunks had to guess he figured that unnerved her quite a bit.

Neiman smirked and took in deep breath before he continued. "You'll find the money is already deposited into your account." He looked to Trunks. "You saved a lot of lives today. Good work." Neiman turned and began to walk away, and Strife gave Trunks a slight nod before turning and walking after his partner.

Trunks turned to face Armada and she had her hands clenched into fists at her side. "Damnit!" she shouted and slammed her right fist into the back of the police cruiser she was sitting in only moments ago. The force of her punch tore a hole in the body of the vehicle, but with everything that was going on around them, none of the officers nearby seemed to notice.

"Hey, it's okay," Trunks reached out to place his right hand on her left shoulder and calm her down. Before he made contact, Armada used her left arm in a parrying maneuver and quite forcefully pushed his arm away.

"Don't touch me," she said lowly and with a slight growl. She stared at Trunks in anger for a moment before she forced herself to walk and push past him.

Trunks watched her walk away with a scowl on his face. They had accomplished their mission with no casualties and even made more money than they had initially signed on for. Just because the whole thing was set up by a few local police officers was no reason for her to be so angry. Then again, he didn't _know_ her—what if this was who she truly was? Part of Trunks was saddened at the realization, but mostly he was concerned. Maybe he had gotten himself into something he would come to deeply regret.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Silvia


	6. Interlude: Detective Work

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

Trunks had double and triple checked the list Armada had given him to make sure he'd gotten everything. With the last of their supplies loaded into the car, he walked around to the driver's side, opened the door and quickly settled himself in. Learning to drive this car was fairly simple; he'd gotten a crash course in it back when they were leaving Mensa and she was injured. Several days ago, she told him she would give him a more proper lesson. _You might as well make yourself useful,_ she'd said to him as she tossed him a the 'key' to the car. It was a black plastic square with a transparent piece in the middle, a chip, she had explained, that when inserted in the vehicle permitted it to start.

After thirty minutes of brief instruction mostly on traffic laws in Bmyhad, she left him to figure out the rest, though admittedly it was pretty easy. This car was very similar to cars on Earth, and Bulma taught him to drive when he was twelve. You never knew when you'd need to get away from the Androids... not like a car would really help, but it gave Bulma a sense of ease, thinking her son had an out. Despite that he could already fly.

It wasn't long before Trunks arrived at the ship's hangar down at the pier. When he pulled around the back to bring the car through the small garage door, he was surprised to find it wasn't opening. Armada had it programmed to open when detecting the car approach, but nothing was happening. Figuring it was nothing more than a glitch, Trunks parked the car in front of the door and got out on foot. He'd just have to go inside and tell Armada, she would fix it, and he would pull the car in like normal to unload.

When Trunks got the human-sized entrance and went to punch in the passcode, he stopped. The lights were not light up on the keypad like normal. _Is this a power outage?_ Trunks wondered briefly. That would explain the door not opening for the car. He stepped closer to the door and placed both hands flat against the surface. Giving a little push, he heard the lock move, and was able to slide the door open slowly. It wasn't heavy for him, he just didn't want to break anything. It was dark inside the hangar when Trunks stepped inside, with the exception of a few lights on the outside of the ship letting in some very dim ambient light into the hangar.

After taking a few steps inside, something hit Trunks. _Is that... blood?_ The faint smell of blood hit his nostrils, and worry began to set in. "Armada!" Trunks called out as he followed the trail of the smell. As he ran closer to the source, he heard something move in the dark. To give himself some light, Trunks created a small ball of energy with his right hand. As soon as the light from his energy illuminated the room, his eyes widened in shock. Armada was lying face down on the ground, a small pool of blood around her head with blood running down her hands which were restrained behind her back. Nearby were two bodies of men, and Trunks immediately sensed that they were dead.

"Armada!" he shouted as he ran over to her and knelt down beside her. She gurgled and coughed while Trunks used his free left hand to try and help her up. Armada moved with his help, and she was able to get up on her knees. She turned to face him, and Trunks had to hold back a gasp. Blood ran from her mouth and nose, down her neck and chest—for whatever reason she had no shirt on, just her black bandeau. She also had gashes to her forehead, with blood running into her right eye which was bruised and mostly closed. She had bruises and blood all over her body, and her hands were covered in it, as if it were running down from underneath whatever metal contraptions were covering her forearms. There was a metal cable running between them, and by the way her hands were cuffed behind her back, clearly they were some form of restraint. What the hell had happened?

Armada spit blood from her mouth in an attempt to clear it out enough to speak. "In the corner behind me," she said and gurgled once more. "There's a breaker, go flip it to get the power on."

Trunks did as told and ran over to the area she had indicated. On the wall was a metal box, already torn open by the looks of it. Holding his light where he could see it, he flipped the switches one by one, and the lights in the hangar slowly began to turn on. With the lights on, he let his energy dissipate and turned back to his comrade. She was still kneeling about a meter from one body, the other was about five meters away and crumpled against the wall of the hangar.

Trunks ran back over and knelt by Armada once more. "What happened?"

"Cut the cable," she said lowly. Trunks hesitated for a moment before he realized she meant the cable connecting the two cuffs on her arms. He quickly moved behind her, grabbed the cable, and ripped it out. He looked at the cable briefly, it appeared to carry an electric current.

With her hands free in front of her, Armada slowly rose to both feet, placing her right hand on her right knee to stabilize herself on the way. She slowly approached the body closest to her and bent down on one knee next to him. She rolled him over, and Trunks could see that the man's nose was broken, and brutally so—he had blood running down the front of his clothes much the same as Armada. She reached inside several of his pockets before she found a small tablet.

"I'm not sure how they snuck in," she finally spoke as she browsed the contents of the small personal computer. "They cut the power. When I left the ship to take a look, I was ambushed. They hit me in the head with a shock rod which threw me off long enough for them to put AEM cuffs on me." She paused her tale momentarily as she apparently found what she was looking for, and with a few more button presses the cuffs unlatched themselves and she threw the tablet and the cuffs down to the floor.

"_Kami_," Trunks said breathlessly when he saw what had happened underneath. Each cuff had four metal hooks—_bloody_ metal hooks—that left four matching wounds in each of Armada's arms. She ran the fingers of her right hand over the wounds on her left arm. From the amount of dried blood, Trunks could tell it had been downright horrific, but now her blood had coagulated and the bleeding from the wounds had stopped. Some time ago, from what he could tell, which means that she was attacked sometime shortly after he left. A thought hit Trunks; what if her assailants were waiting for him to leave? What if he had _given_ them the opportunity?

Trunks shook his head in shock, still staring at the bloodied cuffs that had fallen on the floor. "I don't understand," he started and turned his gaze up to his comrade, "how did this happen?"

In the full light of the hangar, it was clear that Armada had been badly beaten. She had bruises all over her arms, chest, and abdomen, and her right eye was swollen shut. Her face was mostly covered in blood, especially the amount that had trailed from her mouth. It looked like she had taken some serious internal injuries.

Armada turned her gaze away from her injured forearms and up to Trunks. "Anti-energy manipulation restraints. AEM cuffs," she started and nodded toward the restraints he had helped her remove. "How do you think they keep people like you and me from just destroying everything in sight?" To be honest, Trunks hadn't given it much thought thus far. Armada leaned over and spit more blood from her mouth. "They have ways to control our abilities. These are a fairly inexpensive one, it's just hard to get them on your target. But once you do," she trailed off. "If you try to use your energy, the hooks sink in and give you a huge electric shock—equal to the power you're trying to control. It converts the energy you manipulate into electricity to power the restraints. The more you struggle, the worse it gets."

Trunks's gaze fell. He got it. He understood. She was basically tortured in the short time he was gone. Somehow she had managed to kill her attackers, without her strength behind her... a miracle in and of itself. Yet she acted like this was just another day, just another explanation of something as mundane as the hours of the day. But more importantly, she needed treatment—she had serious injuries, and that was putting it mildly.

Trunks reached out toward Armada to help her make her way into the ship and to the infirmary—no, she needed a hospital—but she immediately took a step back from him and raised her right arm in a defensive stance. "I can handle this," she ground out somewhat angrily.

"You need to go to a hospital, you were beat nearly to death!" Trunks shouted in return. He wasn't sure why her actions infuriated him, but they did. Why did she have to be so goddamn stubborn?

"I don't need a hospital, and I don't need _your help_," she spat. "This doesn't involve you. I'm going to take care of this... don't touch anything," she finished and flew toward the ship. Immediately Trunks sensed that her energy was chaotic, all over the place, like she had trouble controlling it. Which would make sense based on what she just told him about the restraints she was in when he found her.

When she had disappeared into the ship, Trunks turned his attention back to the two bodies laying on the floor in the hangar. He wouldn't be dissuaded so easily.

* * *

Illumination

Interlude: Detective Work

* * *

Trunks closed the gap to the first body, the one Armada had searched and pulled the tablet from which apparently controlled her AEM cuffs. The man looked to be about his age, maybe a little older. His nose was badly broken, the type of break that probably sent bone fragments into his brain, the cause of his death. He did have blood splatter on his clothes outside of the fountain that had drained itself from his nose, but Trunks suspected that it wasn't his blood. Rather, it was his comrade's blood from the man beating her. The thought made Trunks's blood boil; they beat someone who had diminished ability to fight back. Then again, somehow she managed to kill him... which in a weird way made Trunks proud of her. She didn't give up, she fought back no matter what. She wouldn't be an easy kill... he knew that feeling all too well.

Searching the first body came up with nothing, so Trunks stood and stepped over to the next. On his way over, he noticed a piece of bloodied white cloth laying on the ground. He bent down and picked it up, and after looking at it for a few moments he realized it was Armada's shirt. They must have ripped it off of her. At first he was unsure as to what good that would do, but when the possibilities started to flitter in, he felt sick. Sure, people wanted Armada dead, she was a mercenary—but torture, and... _worse_... it made his anger flare again. Why? What was the point in all of this?

He set the torn shirt down and approached the second body. This one was facing up, leaned partially against the back wall of the building. A shock rod was sitting nearby, so it looked like this was the one who had initially hit her. Again, the young man appeared not much older than Trunks himself, although this one had a shaved head. As Trunks knelt down to take a closer look and go through the man's pockets, he noticed a knife embedded deep into the man's chest. It looked like it was thrust up under his ribcage from a low angle, and shoved in past the blade's hilt. It likely punctured his lungs, because while there was a good deal of blood near the wound, it wasn't enough to think his cause of death was blood loss.

After a quick search of the body, Trunks found two items of interest. The first was an ID. He'd seen these before around Ute; it was a digital ID almost like a tablet or smartphone itself but that only carried identification information. Since the other body carried no ID, this might be a good place to start to figure out who these men were affiliated with and why they were after Armada. The second item Trunks found was a watch. He wasn't sure what time system it was for, because it didn't match Bmyhad's system. But it was broken, and it had a symbol inscribed on the back. More interestingly, it had a wrist band, but the man kept it in his pocket. This watch likely wasn't used as a watch, and perhaps the symbol the back may help identify who these men were.

Trunks stood and shoved both items into his right jacket pocket. There was only one place he knew to start looking if he was going to get this ID read. Trunks just hoped he would catch him before he left the office for the day.

* * *

Murtole yawned as he attempted to finish typing up the latest report on his research. It didn't need to be done by tomorrow, but he liked to have it done early so he could go back and review it before it was finally due. He took another sip of his coffee before he turned to see who those footsteps he heard approaching belonged to.

"Trunks," Murtole said with a weary smile. He didn't bother to rise, he was too tired from all the hours he had been putting in lately with his research.

Trunks returned his friend's smile, although nervously. "Hey."

"What's up?" Murtole asked, smile still present on his face. Trunks may have known, although Murtole hoped he didn't, that Trunks was one of Murtole's only friends. He was the nerdy kid in school who continued to work hard in his career and, well... he never got out much.

Trunks stopped when he reached Murtole's desk. He hestitated a moment, before reminding himself that he needed to find out what was going on. The Earthling pulled out the ID he'd pulled from one of the corpses back at the ship's hangar, and set it on the end of Murtole's desk. "I need help with this."

Murtole instantly knew what it was. His gaze fell. "I'm sorry, I can't," he said slowly. "I mean, if I do, put my whole career on the line, I-I could get arrested..." Murtole trailed off.

"No, no, it's fine," Trunks tried to reassure his friend. _What the hell was I thinking?!_ Trunks mentally berated himself. _Of course he can't do anything, Murtole is a good kid. He obeys the law... what was I thinking, trying to get him caught up in this. Kami, I'm a dumbass. _"Don't worry about it," Trunks said hastily as he picked up the ID and put it in his pocket.

"I," Murtole started in a near-whisper, "I have a friend, though. We went to school together. If he can't do it, then he'll know somebody who can." Murtole reached over to another area of his desk and pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. He wrote on it briefly before holding it out to Trunks.

Trunks took the paper and looked at it as Murtole spoke. "That's his comm address. Tell him you got it from me, he's a friend so he should help you." Murtole's gaze fell, and his countenance with it. "I'm sorry I can't do anything more for you."

"No Murtole, this is great, thank you," Trunks said in earnest as he put the paper away in the same pocket as the ID.

The pair let silence settle between them for a moment before Murtole spoke up. "Hey, Trunks... this isn't. I mean, she isn't making you do... bad things... is she?" the researcher asked with a pained expression.

Trunks was taken aback. Armada had threatened to kill Murtole. She was a mercenary. She was paid to kill people—among other crimes—and apparently she had no problem doing it. Was he going to fall into the same life of crime? He'd already broken the law countless times, and he was nowhere near paying back even one percent of what he'd cost Armada that day a few short weeks ago. But something in him had changed, something turned. Especially when her blooded body he found earlier flashed across his eyes. They could have killed her, and yet... they didn't. Why? Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he wanted to know. Something spurred him forward. And even at his friend's question, he wasn't going to quit now.

"No... don't worry about it," Trunks said. Suddenly he realized that yes, he was probably a wanted criminal, right there with Armada. By standing here right now, he was putting Murtole at risk. He was putting Devan, and everyone at the lab, at risk. He'd already crossed that line, and now... he was putting his friends' lives and reputations in jeopardy by virtue of having anything to do with them. Trunks's face hardened. It was clear to him now what he needed to do.

"I'm not going to come around here anymore," he said flatly. Murtole opened his mouth to protest but Trunks cut him off. "I don't want to get you guys in trouble." He turned to walk away when one last thought occurred to him. "Tell my mom I'll contact her when I can." With that said, he turned and headed out. And deep down, Murtole must have understood, because he never did say anything as his friend walked out of the lab.

* * *

After stopping at the lab, Trunks had then gone to get his own smartphone. He had no way to contact Murtole's friend without Armada knowing unless he had a separate communication device from the ship. And, someday, if he got it configured right, he may be able to send messages direct to his mother. After his first paying job with Armada, she had handed him a bank card and told him it had fifteen thousand beta on it. _So you can buy whatever you need._ He wondered what she'd think if she knew this was what he was spending it on. Well, she wouldn't care about the what, but the _why_. Which is why he had to be discrete about everything, and make sure he kept things locked away in his room should she decide to take a look around.

When Trunks got back to the hangar, he immediately smelled disinfectant. Glancing over to the area of the scene from earlier, he noticed the bodies were gone and everything looked exactly as it had before. Apparently Armada had cleaned up... he wondered what she did with the bodies, but after considering it for a moment, he figured he'd rather not know. Upon boarding the ship, Trunks went straight to his quarters to lock his things away. He had a locking cabinet built into the wall in his bathroom, which is exactly where he stashed everything. It was locked by a code he put in via a keypad locally, which he was certain Armada could override if she really wanted to get in. One thing he had noticed though, was that she never attempted to enter the barracks designated to him, nor did she ask questions about his belongings. It was a gamble, but he was fairly certain she wouldn't snoop around.

After leaving his room, Trunks paused for a moment. He didn't feel Armada's energy in the ship, but... below it? He focused a moment longer; no, she was in the ship, but she was in the cargo bay. Curious as to what she would be doing there, as opposed to resting from the beating she took, he headed to the back of the ship by the kitchen to jump down the ladder leading into the cargo bay. He landed softly, using flight to slow his descent. When he turned around the corner right by the ladder leading into cargo, what he saw stunned him.

Armada stood, no shoes, only wearing her black skirt and black bandeau, hair tied up on in a bun of her head. She made a few slow, deliberate motions that confused Trunks for a moment, until it hit him like a bag of bricks—she was training! In the short time they'd been together, he had never seen her do any type of training.

She moved slowly, and fluidly, more like she was practicing the motions. Occasionally she would take a few quick strikes, but then slow her pace again. The type of movements she was making, they seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. She seemed to not notice him, as she was totally focused on what she was doing. Trunks also noted the bandages covering both of her forearms, and the small bag of liquid taped to her left upper arm. It was some kind of IV fluid, as a small plastic line ran from the bag down to her left hand, where it was buried under the skin in the top of her left hand. As he continued to watch, he noticed that her movements were somewhat strained. Ever so slightly, her muscles would tremble. She would complete her motions, but it wasn't as smooth as it should be. _Of course not,_ Trunks mentally shook his head at her while his face displayed a disappointed scowl, _she's seriously injured. Her body is begging for rest and she's doing this?_

Armada kept her focus on her movements, turning away from Trunks once more as she spoke. "How long do you plan on standing there and staring?"

"You're an idiot," Trunks said flatly as he moved closer to her in the room and away from the ladder leading into the cargo bay.

"That's rich, coming from you," she said and finished three quick strikes before turning to face him.

"You could have died today—no," Trunks restarted his thought, "you _almost_ died today. And you think now's the time for practice?" He was getting downright _angry_, and honestly he wasn't sure why. He figured it was the blatant _stupidity_ of what she was doing.

Armada stopped and stood upright, ending the practice of her stance. "And who are you to tell me how to live my life?" She wiped at the sweat on her forehead with her right forearm, the bandages soaking up a decent amount of it. Trunks then noticed that her right eye was still mostly swollen shut.

"At least I know how to train properly," he shot back, somewhat cooler than he felt underneath the surface. "You can't keep a simple form solid because you're shaking like a leaf." He paused, and tacked on, out of irritation, "And who trains in a skirt anyway?"

Armada glared at him a moment before reaching for the hem of her skirt where it sat on her right thigh with her right hand. Trunks's eyes shot wide for a moment as she lifted it, only to reveal that she had black skintight shorts matching the fabric of her skirt on underneath. "This fabric is the same as my armor, it stretches as it needs to," she added as she pushed her skirt back down. The two stood in silence a moment before Armada spoke again. "If you have nothing useful for me, then leave." She turned away from him and settled back into her routine.

"Are you gonna tell me who those guys were?" Trunks asked, fully expecting to be told to shut the hell up.

"No idea," Armada said, her eyes focused on some imaginary point in space as she stepped forward and turned, still facing away from Trunks. He knew this would go nowhere fast, and as irritated as he was with her, he simply turned and went back upstairs to the ship's main level. No need to argue with her, it wouldn't do anything other than irritate him further.

It was already getting late, so Trunks went to his room to call it an evening. When he entered his barracks and closed the door behind himself, his eyes lingered on his sword, sheathed and hanging from the top bunk of the bunk bed set. Memories came flooding back to him, of a younger version of himself, bloodied and beaten to near death by the androids, practicing slow steps and swings with his sword. He remembered how many times he would drop his sword and curse the pain, but pick it back up and keep pushing on, no matter how injured he was. Going through movements where his muscles shook from exhaustion, where he wanted to cry out in pain but decided instead to channel it into a mind-numbing focus on each move, each breath.

He understood. And he didn't care for the reminder of those times. When the world rested on his shoulders and he could do nothing but fail.

* * *

The next morning, Trunks was up and moving early. Armada was long gone, and Trunks was grateful. While he had come to terms with where his anger at her was coming from yesterday, he still felt unusually irritated with her actions. She didn't have to make things hard; _he_ was here, she could rely on him for help. It was frustrating that she refused him at every turn. She was stubborn to the point of stupidity... but he'd had his own moments like that not too long ago.

Trunks left the hangar and walked to his destination. He was headed for a park on the north edge of downtown Ute to meet with Murtole's friend. He had setup his smartphone last night and sent the first cursory message to the comm address Murtole had given him. Whoever was on the other end agreed to assist, and told Trunks to bring the item he needed examined and meet him there in the morning. And thus Trunks was taking his time walking through the city.

Ute was a gorgeous city. Granted the cities Trunks grew up seeing were all half destroyed, so anything would seem gorgeous in comparison, but Ute was different. The concrete was a very light gray, almost white, and everything was a mixture of that shining white and glass. The streets were clean, and Ute didn't have slums—he'd even asked Devan and Murtole about it. Walking through the city on a warm morning in the summer was fun. Fun was something Trunks needed more of in his life.

It didn't take long for Trunks to arrive at the park mentioned by Murtole's friend. He walked through until he found the bench specified in the message. It was a dark gray, and a different style from the rest of the architecture of the park. It sat just under a tree and about twenty meters from a fountain. Nobody was there, so he slowly approached and seated himself. Trunks sat and people-watched, just enjoying the weather. His home was still healing, but they were close—they were close to this level of normalcy.

A few minutes later someone who appeared to be just walking by took a sharp turn and headed straight for Trunks. He sat himself down on the bench next to Trunks and let out a contented sigh before he turned to Trunks and smiled. "You're Murtole's friend, right?" his voice was light and had a slight accent.

"Yeah," Trunks said, somewhat shocked. This guy wasn't any older than him. He was a few inches shorter, from watching him walk over. He had short, wavy dark hair and wore black rimmed glasses, and was fairly thin. Not a malnourished thin, just like it was his natural build.

"Nice to meet you," he still smiled brightly. "My name's Quarry, but call me Q."

Q looked at Trunks expectantly, awaiting a response. Trunks wasn't naïve enough to give out his real name, so he quickly thought up a name to give Q. "I'm Toran," Trunks reached out and Q took his hand and shook it briefly.

"Murtole is a dear friend of mine," Q said, his gaze edging slightly away from Trunks. "If he sent you to me, I'll do my best to help you. Now," he brought his hands together in front of him, "let's see what you've got."

Trunks pulled out the ID he'd scavenged from the bald dead man and handed it to Q.

"Ah, well this should be easy," Q said with a quick smile to Trunks before he reached back into one of his jacket pockets and pulled out what appeared to be a smartphone. He pulled the small retractable cable out from the ID card and plugged it into his smartphone. "Should only take a minute to decrypt," Q added, "and then we'll know who you're looking for."

Trunks was slightly confused. "We couldn't have just transferred the data remotely?" he asked. Meeting in person seemed kind of... risky.

Q shook his head. "Too easy to track over the network. Besides, this," he moved the smartphone in his hand, "isn't online. It only connects to a database I've created that I keep on an entirely separate network." Q turned back to his smartphone. "Oh," he said with a look on his face that Trunks couldn't interpret but he knew wasn't good.

"What?" Trunks finally asked.

"It seems I already had the key for this encryption protocol," Q replied. He stared at his phone a moment and swallowed thickly before he looked at Trunks. "Do you know who you're dealing with?" he asked with a look of worry upon his face.

"No," Trunks responded automatically. "That's why I'm here."

Q sighed and tucked his lips in for a moment, letting out a deep breath. "Rieve. I've decrypted a few things of theirs before, so I already had the key for their encryption protocol, which is why it went so quick." Q sighed again.

"What's Rieve?" Trunks asked with concern bringing his eyebrows together. He had no idea what Q was talking about.

Q looked at Trunks like he had just grown another head. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. "No," he closed his eyes and shook his head briefly. "It's done," he said and unplugged the ID from his smartphone and handed it to Trunks. "I've highlighted his real ID in green, so you can just go through the rest of it on your own time." Q paused a moment. "But I suggest that if you don't know who Rieve is, that you take this back to where you found it and you get as far away from it as you can." Q put his phone away and stood up.

Trunks hurriedly stood behind him. "What do you mean?" He was thoroughly confused.

"Do me a favor," Q turned to look at him. "Don't take that anywhere near Murtole." Before Trunks could respond, Q started walking away.

Trunks sat a moment and watched Q disappear into the crowd. He slipped the ID back into his pocket. What the hell was Rieve and why was Q so upset about it? Trunks was about to get up and leave when he realized something, and felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. He pulled his own phone out and pulled up a network site that functioned as an encyclopedia of sorts. He opened the search and spoke into the phone, "Rieve." The application processed his voice command showed it searching for the word 'RIEVE.' A few seconds later the results came up.

What Trunks read should have shocked him, but sadly it didn't. 'RIEVE' was the name of an organized crime family, and a fairly accomplished one at that. He read on about their history, their exploits, how several police organizations had been working for decades to take them down. All of the information was unconfirmed, save a few members who had been taken into custody and flipped. The article stressed the unknown, as Rieve was still somewhat shrouded in mystery. Their name was well known through the mapped universe, but most of the information passed around was merely rumors. However, Rieve was estimated to have long reaching arms into many governments and nations across the universe. Just how far was unknown.

So Armada had pissed off an interstellar mafia. No surprise there, with her type of _work, _if he could even call it that. Just what she had done to piss them off was still a mystery. Trunks decided at that moment that he would work to find out what was going on. Because if Rieve was half as bad as Q and the network entry made it sound, then he had reason to worry.

* * *

A short chapter, but a necessary one. Thanks for reading!


	7. Mission 05: Escort Service 2 SR

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

Trunks laid back in his bed, shoulders propped up slightly against the wall so he wasn't lying totally flat. He flipped through the ID again that Q had decrypted for him. With access to it, he found that the man who carried it had twelve fake identifications stored on the card, and one that Q had identified as the real deal. The information on just the collection of IDs didn't give him any new information. They were just fake names from different places around the universe. He couldn't help his desire to keep cycling through each one, looking for something. Then again, what would he look for? He knew nothing about the wider universe besides the stories his mother had told him of a few select planets, and the research he had done so far on his own of the system Bmyhad belonged to and its neighboring planets.

He had learned that the known universe was massive. And when he tried to search for 'Namek' on the network, he found nothing. He didn't dare search for the _other_ planet he'd heard of. Knowing what the Saiyan race did for many years under Freiza's army, who knew how many enemies were lying in wait, wanting revenge against a dead race. Besides, the planet Vegeta no longer existed. He may run the risk of the search only to find nothing in return.

Deciding he had wasted enough time today, Trunks got up to return the ID to the locking cabinet in his bathroom. Just as he had closed the cabinet door, he heard a knock at the door to his barracks. "Yeah?" Trunks called out without moving anywhere.

"Get out here," he heard Armada call back.

Trunks scowled slightly. _She's so polite_, he thought sarcastically as he walked out of his bathroom and to the door to his quarters. He opened the door and she stood on the other side waiting for him with her typical somewhat-pissed-off look on her face. Before Trunks could even say anything, she spoke.

"We've got another job. We're leaving now." No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, she turned around and walked back down the hallway.

"Wait, where are we going?" Trunks called after her.

"Virda City. The ship departs now," she said loud enough for him to hear her as she continued walking away.

Trunks sighed again. Why did this woman have to be such a pain in the ass? He followed after her toward the bridge. Once inside the bridge, he saw her seated at the main console as the ship's engines began to fire up. Trunks took a seat at the navigation console and rotated the chair to face her. "So what are our orders?" he asked casually.

"A senator from Virda City wants escorted to the Republic," Armada stated flatly as her hands worked furiously to prepare the ship for launch. It was almost a spectacle in and of itself to Trunks, as he watched her flip between monitors and input commands furiously.

"What's our timeframe?" Trunks asked.

"It will take three days to get to Virda City, and a week from there to reach the Republic," she replied as she moved both hands to the engine thrusters and pushed forward on both. The ship slowly began to lift out of the hangar. It only took about fifteen seconds for them to clear the roof and double-check that the door closed behind them. With everything locked down, Armada changed the ship's trajectory and put the engines on full blast for them to escape Bmyhad's atmosphere.

After a few minutes of mild turbulence, Trunks knew they had left the atmosphere and the gravity well when everything stopped shaking and the ship began a smooth, quiet ride. Armada began charting their course and setting up the autopilot. Trunks stayed seated as his hair started to float up around him. She never engaged the artificial gravity until they were a safe distance from the gravity well. She had explained once that if they were too close when it was activated, the planet's gravity could destroy the artificial gravity generator in the bottom of the ship.

Once she had the coordinates locked, Armada turned on the autopilot and let go of the controls. "Two days and nineteen hours until we reach our destination," she said before she pushed herself away from the pilot's seat to the wall just behind her. A few seconds after she reached the console at the rear of the bridge, Trunks felt the familiar creeping motion of the artificial gravity kicking in. It was a comforting feeling—he didn't care for weightlessness. It made his stomach queasy.

As soon as the artificial gravity was on and Armada's feet set back down on the ship, she walked off toward the galley. Trunks sensed her heading for the cargo bay once again. He got up and headed back to his quarters. He hated these long flights; they made the days drag on.

* * *

Illumination

Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix]

* * *

"What's our status, Noran?" a dignified yet gravelly voice rang out.

Noran stood in front of his charge, Senator Ballasten, as they waited for their 'escort' at a spaceport orbiting Virda. The pair stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking the main concourse in the spaceport, looking for the mercenary they'd hired to travel with them to the Republic. Noran had his head down, checking the last communication he had received from the mercenary. "She should be here any minute now," he said in even, cool tones. "Her ship officially docked seven minutes ago."

"Good," the senator responded, placing his left hand on Noran's shoulder. The senator was an elderly man, though he was not incapacitated any more than a healthy senior would be. He merely wanted to show Noran his approval.

Noran took and scanned the crowd, his eyes darting left and right, looking for her face. The picture he had studied was taken from security footage, in low light, and at an odd angle; but he knew he would recognize her. Another minute or so passed before Noran did a double-take upon seeing a blonde woman with sloppy hair walking down the concourse. "There," he pointed discretely and looked to the senator. "That's her," he reiterated.

The senator stepped forward and squinted his eyes to have a look. He was about to say something when his attendant interrupted him. "Who the hell is that with her?" Noran gripped the railing of the mezzanine tightly and scowled as he noticed a man with purple hair following closely behind the mercenary—close enough to indicate that they were indeed together. "She's always worked alone," he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"It's fine, Noran," Senator Ballasten replied. "It won't change anything." He shifted his weight on his feet and clasped his hands together in front of him. "We'll still accomplish what we had intended."

Noran turned to face the senator and glowered. "I don't like unknowns," he ground out darkly. If the senator didn't know better, he would have feared for his life from his attendant's tone alone.

"Calm yourself my child," Ballasten said with an air of authority. "We'll get what we need. Some piece of space trash she picked up will hardly hinder us. Or you," the senator added his last sentence while turning to look Noran in the eyes.

The senator was right, Noran realized. He needed to calm himself, and he took the first big steps to doing that by releasing the railing and letting out a deep, slow breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. They would do what they needed to on this trip, and he would plant the seeds for his own victory later on. The senator didn't need to know about that, but it was part of their agreement that when the time came, the mercenary be left to him. Noran opened his eyes and smirked. He could almost feel bad for her, knowing what he had in store. Almost.

Noran turned around and smiled at Senator Ballasten. "Let's go introduce ourselves."

* * *

Armada stopped walking when the pair arrived at the gates to 5-C, or the fifth concourse as she had explained to Trunks earlier. "This is it," she said, putting away her tablet into a jacket pocket. She was wearing a cropped dark green jacket with her standard white shirt underneath. Instead of the usual skirt, she had loose-fitting black cargo pants that ran down to the floor. Her hair was pulled back in a braid save her bangs. Trunks was in his standard blue jacket, black shirt, gray pants—nothing new for him. "They said to meet at the gate," Armada turned to look at Trunks.

"Two guys, the senator and one attendant," Trunks recited back to Armada when she faced him. "Do we have any idea what these guys look like?" Armada opened her mouth to respond but was cut short from behind.

"My apologies," a deep smooth voice rang out, "we couldn't risk leaking the senator's location." Both mercenaries turned to see the man standing behind Armada. He had black hair and light brown eyes, and he was huge. He was a few inches taller than Trunks, but his build was very similar—both men being very muscular and fit. "I'm Noran, it's a pleasure to meet you," he added with a smile and slight bow of the head to Armada. Armada inched slightly back from him and her eyebrows came together in immediate distrust. "I must say, you have quite the reputation, _Armada_," he added on with a somewhat victorious visage.

"So I've been told," Armada said flatly, still eyeing Noran warily. "This is Mace, he works for me," Armada said glancing to Trunks.

Trunks was kind of shocked that she had given him a fake name, but then again the way Noran said her name made it sound like it was a good idea. Mace being her broker, it must have been the first thing that came to mind. Noran glanced at Trunks briefly and just as quickly turned his gaze away. "This is Senator Ballasten," Noran turned to the elderly gentleman with him. "I'm sure you understand that for security purposes we couldn't reveal his full identity to you ahead of time," Noran added.

"Well, let's be on our way," the senator cut in. Senator Ballasten wasn't short, but average build, with a bit of extra weight around his midsection. He had thin hair, and it was all white. The wrinkles on his face indicated his age, but he kept his visage mostly unmoving. Then again, being a politician, he was likely very practiced at keeping his reactions guarded. "It's not exactly a short trip," the senator said with a smile.

Armada immediately spun around and walked off, leaving the rest of the group to catch up. Trunks looked at Noran who open glared at him, before he followed behind the senator who was the first to follow Armada. Trunks quickly fell into step at the rear, keeping his eyes fixed on Noran. He and Armada had already talked about this; something was clearly going on beyond a simple escort mission. Why else would a Republican senator hire a mercenary?

"_You realize it's a trap, don't you?" Trunks asked Armada in the bridge as she piloted the ship into dock at the space station orbiting Virda they had agreed to pick up their charges at._

"_Of course," she answered plainly. "Senators from the Republic are the highest elected officials in that nation. They represent entire planets. Senators have access to unlimited money and security. There's no reason for this, except that they are planning something that requires a gullible mercenary."_

"_Then why did you accept?" Trunks followed up. While everything she just said made sense, the question still needed answered._

_Armada turned to look at him. "Because we're smarter and stronger than they think. We won't fall for whatever their trap is, and we'll get paid."_

Trunks was deep in thought but still kept a close eye on their small line the short walk back to the ship. When they arrived, Armada led the senator in who followed without issue. However, at the door Noran stopped and stepped to the side, as if he were waiting for Trunks to pass. Trunks stopped short and waited; he wasn't going to fall for something so simple. The two exchanged cold stares for a minute before Noran finally turned without a word and walked in. Trunks followed after him.

* * *

Armada quickly introduced the senator and his attendant to the third unused barracks on the ship, and let them know it was theirs. She also gave them a very concise rundown of the rules, which basically consisted of their required presence in their room at all times. Meals would be delivered to them, and if they docked at any space stations on the way they must be escorted through the ship by Armada. Trunks smirked at the look on Noran's face, as the man seemed positively furious that she would impose such restrictions on him. He started to complain when the senator silenced him, but Armada added on anyway, "If you don't like the accommodations, then leave." Nobody said anything after that.

The first two days passed without incident. Armada cooked meals and brought the senator and Noran food, which Noran seemed none to pleased about. Trunks knew Armada's cooking; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. It was just edible. Probably garbage compared to what a high powered, ultra rich politician is used to. And though he hadn't heard anything directly, he was sure they weren't enjoying the bare-bones military style quarters they were given.

Trunks stood in the galley leaned back against the counter a meter away from where Armada was currently preparing the next meal. "You think they'll put up with this another four and a half days?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"No," Armada replied as she continued her work, not bothering to look at him. "But that's the point. They'll get angry. And sloppy. And whatever they thought they were going to do, they'll either rush through it or let their anger make them forget about whatever they've planned." She finished her preparation and began filling two trays with food.

Trunks thought for a moment before speaking. "Well they're not going to do much in there, so you're planning on letting them out." She only nodded in response before walking out of the galley carrying to trays of food. Trunks followed close behind.

Noran was already waiting when Armada opened the door to their guests's quarters, and as usual he looked unhappy. Armada handed him the two trays, and as Noran turned to walk away from the doorway, she spoke. "We're going to stop at orbital platform LN4195 to refuel and pick up supplies. We'll arrive in about an hour. You and the senator are welcome to disembark if you'd like while we're there." Without giving Noran a chance to respond, she closed the door and turned to walk away.

Once the mercenaries reached the bridge, Armada stopped and looked at Trunks. "That will give them enough time to figure out how to execute whatever they're thinking about." She paused momentarily, before adding, "And I need you to play dumb."

"What do you mean?" Trunks asked..

"Clearly they already know something about me," she said, glancing down the hallway toward the barracks. "You're the unknown. They don't know anything about you. So we need to make sure you continue to be a mystery," she finished.

"So what are we doing once we get to the space station?" Trunks followed up once again.

Armada turned to him once more and smirked. "Just follow my lead."

* * *

Having finished their meals, and only having about twenty minutes left to plan before the ship arrived at the space station, Noran and the senator tried to plan out their next move.

"Clearly she's toying with us," Noran said in annoyance as he paced in the room. "We've been locked in here like criminals thus far and now suddenly we're stopping for supplies and she's letting us out? A ship like this wouldn't need to refuel on this short of a trip."

"Calm down Noran," Senator Ballasten responded from where he sat on one of the beds in the room.

"I can't calm down sir," Noran stopped pacing and faced the senator. "This ship uses an ID scrambler, so we can't pull its signature," he tossed his tablet to the senator who caught it with ease. "We don't know what kind of armaments it has, and we can't find anything similar to it," Noran continued. "If we can't replicate the ship, that throws a serious wrench into things," he finished and let out an exasperated sigh.

"We just need some good images of it, yes?" the senator asked as he tooled away on the tablet that Noran had tossed him.

"That would be a good start, seeing as we have nothing so far," the attendant replied as he ran his right hand through his hair. "The question is, where are we gonna find that? Between our entering and exiting the ship, we haven't gotten a clear look at it, let alone a picture," Noran said more to himself than the senator.

"How about this?"

Noran snapped around to look at the senator, who held out Noran's tablet. Noran closed the small gap between them and took the tablet from his senior's hands. What the senator had pulled up was video from a news report from some country in the Alliance. Noran played the video once, then twice, when he saw it—right at the beginning of the video he saw Armada and Mace fly out of harm's way and into a ship. No, _this _ship, it was just a regular metallic silver in the video instead of the black it was now. A smile slowly crept into Noran's face. "Oh, you put me to shame, sir."

* * *

In the space station, Trunks and Armada sat at a table in the food court area inside the terminal. They both watched the senator and his attendant, sitting at a table on the other side of the terminal, probably about fifty meters away. Trunks finished taking a drink of his water, and asked, "You know what they're planning yet?"

"No idea," Armada said without turning her gaze away from the senator and Noran. "But that guy's not normal."

"Who, Noran?" Trunks asked while looking at the senator's assistant, or whatever he was. "Sure, I mean, he doesn't look like your standard personal assistant," he added.

"That's because he's not," Armada said, still watching Ballasten and Noran interact in between her own sips of water. "He's an energy fighter like us," Armada spoke again. "You can tell from his gait; the way he walks. He's almost too muscular though, like he's sacrificed speed for power. Not a smart move," she finished.

Trunks sighed, remembering his own mistake from a few years ago like Armada was speaking about him. "Yeah, I know a little about that," he added with a slight hint of shame. Armada turned to look at Trunks, her face showing a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by gunfire.

The mercenaries' heads snapped up as people began screaming and diving for cover. On the mezzanine overlooking the food court, a small group of young men—five, or six? It was hard for Trunks to be certain—had pulled out what looked like assault rifles and pistols and fired into the ceiling of the installation. "Ladies and gentlemen," one young man with very light blond hair shouted out as he leaned over the railing holding an assault rifle in his hands. "If everyone stays calm and keeps their heads down, we'll be out of your way shortly. Thank you." As soon as he finished his orders, the group scattered from the top of the mezzanine and headed for the nearby stairs to the lower level.

"What the hell do they...?" Armada trailed off as she was interrupted by Trunks.

"The senator," Trunks said and nodded in the direction they had been watching only moments ago. Armada turned to look to see Noran was still there, but he was glaring in another direction. Armada followed his gaze to see the senator already twenty meters from Noran, standing calmly as two men guarded him, one with an assault rifle, the other with a pistol.

"Damnit," Armada growled, "these stupid kids. Probably some gang that noticed a senator on the station." Before Trunks could say anything else, Armada looked to him once more. "Stay here, and don't do anything. Noran doesn't know anything about you, and we need to keep it that way." She pushed her chair back and stood up, looking around the station as people ran for their lives beneath panicked screams. She turned back to Trunks one last time, "On second thought, if you can stay under their radar, move closer to the senator." With that, she took off running through the crowd toward the stairs coming down from the mezzanine. Trunks took his cue and got up, and headed toward the senator through the throngs of screaming civilians.

Noran saw Armada headed through the crowd toward the stairs that several of the armed instigators were currently headed down. His eyes narrowed; he certainly didn't trust a mercenary to handle this issue with grace. He had to do something. Noran shot another glance to the senator, who nodded in response so slightly his captors missed it. Noran turned and started to push his way toward Armada.

Once Armada reached the stairwell leading upstairs on the right side of the terminal, she waited briefly. The kids with guns didn't let off anymore energy than their normal lifeforce, so she figured they weren't energy fighters. For that she was glad, because if she had to take down half a dozen careless energy fighters in a space station... well, it wouldn't be easy. She heard several pairs of footsteps coming down lazily, and since the terminal was clearing of bystanders by this point she knew it had to be at least three or four of the seven would-be bandits she counted on the mezzanine when they first made their move. She stood back, just behind the wall separating the stairwell from the rest of the terminal, and waited for them to appear around the corner. As soon as she saw a fourth young man step down, she sprung into action.

Picking off the one in the back first, since he had an assault rifle, Armada rammed the palm of her right hand into the base of his spine. The kid barely had time to shriek in pain before he fell to the ground, incapacitated. The other three turned, but no sooner had they looked upon her, Armada had them on the ground with three quick, solid uppercuts to their abdomens—hitting each in his diaphragm, taking the air from his lungs. As they each fell, Armada shot energy blasts at each of their weapons, destroying them.

No sooner had she finished this task, Noran was upon her. Before Armada could speak, he swung at her and she barely missed blocking his punch. Taking a strong right hook squarely in the center of her face, Armada jumped backward to put some distance between her assailant and herself.

"What game are you playing at mercenary?!" Noran shouted in anger. At this, his energy flared and began to whirl around him in a pale green aura. "Now you lose your life for crossing me!"

"Stop, you idiot!" Armada shouted back after wiping at her face, a smear of blood beneath her nose. "If I'd wanted you or the senator, I'd have done it myself. I wouldn't hire some ragtag band of kids with guns to do it. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you know that," she said but kept back in her stance, ready for Noran to attack again.

Noran clenched his teeth and his right fist in front of his chest momentarily before he let go of his energy and it dissipated around him. "Fine. Now we need to find the rest of these punks so we can get out of here."

Trunks had managed to clear some distance between the senator and his two new bodyguards and where he and Armada were moments ago, but not all of it. The crowd cleared up before he got all the way there, so he ducked behind a long planter where he could still see the senator but the gunmen couldn't see Trunks. He was contemplating when to make his move when the armed guards spoke up. "Holy shit, that woman just took out Curi!" one of them exclaimed.

"What should we do?" the second asked, and Trunks suddenly felt a spike in energy that he wasn't familiar with. A quick glance over the planter in that direction revealed Noran standing with his energy raised, and Armada a few meters away wiping at her mouth. Trunks scowled; he had no time to deal with that issue when he still had to get the gunmen away from the senator. Noticing they were distracted by the spectacle before them, Trunks took the opportunity.

He appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to guys guarding the senator. With two quick chops across the back of their necks, both men were knocked out and fell to the ground. Senator Ballasten took a step back from Trunks and had what appeared to the demi-Saiyan to be an actual display of emotion on his face. The senator looked purely shocked. Trunks didn't bother to say anything in response before he flew over to where Armada and Noran appeared to be having some sort of showdown.

Just as Noran powered down, Trunks appeared between him and Armada, his back to his comrade. Noran narrowed his eyes at 'Mace.' _I didn't sense him at all, not even when he flew over here... _Noran thought with deep curiosity. Before anyone had the opportunity to speak, Trunks sensed three more people coming down the stairs on the other side of the mezzanine. His head whipped around in their direction, and in less than a second he was upon them.

"Oh shit!" one of the kids managed to yell out before Trunks took them out without seriously injuring them. With their weapons on the ground, Trunks stomped on the two assault rifles and one pistol the three carried between them, destroying them.

"Good work," Armada said as she ran up behind Trunks. He turned to see Noran stalking their direction with anger written across his face.

"I don't think he's gonna agree with you," Trunks said and motioned toward the senator's attendant with his head. Armada spun around and glared at Noran as he approached.

"Very cute," Noran spat as he closed the gap between himself and the mercenary pair. "Trying to make yourselves look good in front of the senator? By what, beating up a bunch of kids barely out of their diapers?" He stopped two meters away from the pair. "We're not so easily fooled."

"We had nothing to do with this, you _asshole_," Armada spat in return. "And you're lucky I don't kill you for that cheap shot," she added, referring to the sucker punch he landed on her when she was busy trying to ensure _his _senator's safety.

"You, kill me?" Noran shot back. "You don't have—" Noran began, but his insult was interrupted by the sound of several dozen heavily-armed security guards bursting into the terminal from the security doors beneath the center of the mezzanine. The security guards immediately leveled their weapons at the three energy fighters standing over three kids still groaning in pain.

"There's no need for any of that."

Everyone turned to see Senator Ballasten slowly walking over to the group. One security guard in particular, the only one not wearing a face mask Trunks noticed, stepped forward and lowered his weapon. "Senator Ballasten, my deepest apologies for everything that has happened here, sir."

"It's quite all right," Ballasten replied in that gravelly yet diplomatic voice of his. "My personal security was quite able to handle the situation," he said, turning his gaze to the three energy fighters who were indeed with him.

Understanding what he meant, the apparent head of the security group raised a hand to signal to his men. "Stand down, they're with the senator." Immediately, the rest of the security guards lowered their weapons and stood at ease. "Grab these kids and get 'em in cuffs," he called out. "And get this place cleaned up." The security guards sprang into action, and the lead officer approached the senator. "If there's anything we can do, sir, please let me know."

Senator Ballasten had a look of utter indifference on his face. "Oh I believe our ship has probably finished refueling by now, I think we'll simply be on our way." It was his way of indicating that he should be left to leave before the security lockdown that was surely in place now was lifted.

"Of course sir, we'll clear your ship to leave right away," the officer responded. He then turned to direct the rest of his contingent regarding the kids they were dragging away in cuffs who, for those that weren't still unconscious, moaned in pain or actually started crying. Trunks suddenly felt a little guilty; he may have hit them harder than he needed to.

"Noran!" the senator nearly shouted in what Trunks figured was his 'I'm a little upset' voice. Noran gave one last glare to the mercenaries before he stepped over to the senator, and the pair headed toward the gate which led to the mercenaries' ship. Armada gave Trunks a quick glance before she followed behind their charges. After all, they still had a job to finish.

* * *

After getting everyone back on the ship, and in the case of the senator and his guard dog, locked away in their rooms, Armada disembarked the ship from the space station and they continued on their course. As soon as she finished programming the autopilot to take over, she sighed heavily and let herself sink back into the pilot's chair. She reached up and gingerly touched her nose, trying to determine if Noran had broken it. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.

"You okay?" Trunks asked from his seat nearby at the navigation console.

Armada let out a sigh and fixed a glare on her comrade. "I can take a punch just fine, thanks." She closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the sides of the bridge of her nose. "It's not broken, so it's fine." She paused a moment. "It's my fault anyway, I shouldn't have let my guard down." _That bastard_, she added mentally and narrowed her eyes as she kept her gaze on their autopilot course.

Trunks stood up from his seat. "Well Noran's an idiot anyway," he changed the topic slightly. "If he really thinks we would hire some kids with guns to try and kidnap the senator." Trunks shook his head and stayed silent a moment. "What the hell are they after, anyway?"

"They're trying to make a replica of this ship," Armada looked up at Trunks from where she sat. He noticed that the redness in her face was already starting to dissipate.

"Why?" Trunks asked. "And how do you even know that?" he followed up before she could reply.

"I bugged their room," Armada answered his second question first. "And I don't know. There's nothing particularly special about this ship." She leaned forward and stood up slowly, flexing the muscles across her shoulders as if they were sore. "We've only got a few more days," she stated. "We just need to keep them locked up and make sure things stay quiet." She walked away and headed for the rear of the ship down the hallway passing the galley and lounge. Trunks wondered why she wasn't quite as concerned with them trying to make a replica of her ship... there could be no _good_ reason to do so.

* * *

Going back to the schedule they had in the beginning, where Noran and Ballasten were locked away all day with the exception of meal deliveries, things had stayed quiet. They were only three hours out from their destination, a space station just outside sovereign airspace of the GaReXa Republic. Trunks sat back in his bed, lights out in his room because he was supposed to be sleeping. But there was too much to think about, and he was wondering about how his mother was doing back home. So he left the door to his barracks open, listening for whenever they did eventually arrive at their final destination.

He heard Armada's footsteps in the hallway, and realized she had stopped at the door to the room currently occupied by one senator and one jackass. He listened closely as she opened the door and spoke.

"We'll be arriving at your requested destination in approximately two hours and forty-eight minutes," she said flatly. "Please have payment ready before you disembark."

"Wait," Trunks heard Noran's voice call out followed by heavier footsteps approaching the door. "Come with us," he said lowly, almost like he was trying to keep someone from hearing him. _Not someone_, Trunks realized, _the senator._ Trunks sat up in bed and focused his senses to listen a bit more closely. "I've never met anyone like you," Noran continued. "I... want you with me."

"I-I don't know," Trunks heard Armada respond. She sounded... flustered, almost embarrassed. Trunks's face contorted into pure confusion as he listened on. _What the hell is this?_ He thought in shock and concern. He'd _never_ heard Armada speak like that, let alone sound like—dare he say—a woman.

"Think of everything we could accomplish together," Noran said, almost breathless. Did this guy... did he _like_ Armada? Trunks's mouth hung agape in shock; was this for real? He actually pinched the top of his left hand with his right, just to make sure he was indeed awake and not dreaming.

"Noran, I, I need to tell you something very important," Armada said lowly, and Trunks still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was Armada, and _who the hell_ was talking to Noran? Because it sure as hell wasn't the woman he'd gotten to know for the past six weeks.

"The next time I see you, I'm going to gut you like the coward you are," Armada ground out darkly. Trunks shook his head and almost _laughed_; she was messing with him! Now the world made sense.

Noran almost growled. "You _stupid bitch_, you have no idea what you've just given up." Trunks had a hard time trying not to laugh as he envisioned the embarrassed and enraged look on Noran's face. Armada just made him look like a fool, and it was rather glorious. "You'll regret this."

"The only thing I'm going to regret is not killing you now," Armada answered, "and strangling that fat old man who drags you around like his dog." She smirked, "Of course, maybe you _like_ that sort of thing—"

"Pray you never see me again," Noran cut her off, rage rolling from his words like steam from a boiling pot. "Because if you do, I will unleash cruelty upon you so unspeakable, you will _beg_ me to kill you."

Trunks heard Armada laugh darkly. "Says the man who just begged me to stand at his side." She paused a moment, but continued "If you truly knew anything about me, then you would know that I would die a thousand painful deaths before I served under someone again for one second. I am a hurricane of death and cruelty, and anyone who crosses me winds up dead or wishing they were dead. I am nobody's tool," she finished and with that Trunks heard her press the button to shut the door in Noran's face. Immediately he heard her footsteps walk away.

Trunks laid back against his pillow and laughed out loud, albeit quietly. He just wished he could have seen the look on Noran's face. He felt somewhat _proud_ of his comrade, even if what she did was mean. Hell, if anyone deserved it, it was that guy.

* * *

Trunks stood next to Armada, closest to the door of the ship. Directly across from him on the other side of the door stood the senator with his guard dog behind him. Armada looked up from the tablet she was using and addressed the group. "The transaction is verified. We're good."

The senator nodded in that fake-appreciative way politicians are good at. "Thank you for your services." With the transfer confirmed, Trunks opened the door, and the senator let himself out.

Noran stepped forward, and smirked at Trunks as he 'accidentally' bumped his shoulder into Trunks's shoulder. The contact only lasted for a moment, but that was all that was needed. Noran let his internal shield down, and when he made contact with Trunks, the Earthling was able to sense just how deep the well of Noran's power went. It was disconcerting; not because he was any match for Trunks, because he wasn't. But in a one-on-one fight with Armada, Trunks wasn't sure she would survive.

Noran glanced over his shoulder and shot one last smirk at Trunks before Armada pressed a button on the console next to the door which caused it to shut. "Smug asshole," Armada spat before she turned and walked into the bridge. Trunks couldn't help but laugh at her comment. His mother used to say, hell have no wrath like a woman scorned. Maybe one day Armada would kill him, and it would be a hell of a fight.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please leave a review! Good, bad, or ugly, I like all kinds of feedback. :]


	8. Interlude: Breakdown

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

Two days after dropping off the senator and his attendant, Trunks and Armada were headed back to Ute. The trip directly to Ute from the edge of the Republic would take eight days; longer than the trip from Virda City, but shorter than the entire round trip of Ute-Virda City-Republic. Armada was sitting in the lounge behind the one table in the small space, typing away into a small laptop computer. Trunks wasn't surprised to see she hadn't moved in the few minutes it took him to go back to his room, pick something up, and walk back to the lounge; she had been sitting at that computer for close to six hours now. And with nothing to do, and no politicians and bodyguards keeping their attention occupied, he was bored. So he decided to change things up a bit.

Trunks walked into the lounge and threw down a small box on the table next to Armada's computer. It landed with a loud smack and slid slightly. Her eyes immediately pulled away from the screen to look at the box he'd thrown down. "What's this?" she asked, her eyes tracking up to his as he stood in front of the table.

"Playing cards," Trunks said with a triumphant smile.

Giving him a wary look, she reached over and picked up the box. She opened it, and a deck of cards slid out, with symbols on them that she had never seen before. She looked back up to him, her face full of guarded confusion, but he spoke before she had a chance to say anything.

"They're mine," Trunks began. "They're from my homeworld," he amended.

"And you think I'm going to play cards with you?" she said slowly, almost mechanically.

"Why not?" Trunks countered. "What else do we have to do to kill time?"

Armada immediately looked down and put the cards back into the box, folding the opening back in to seal it. "I don't know this deck, I don't know how to play," she started into her excuses, but Trunks didn't let her finish.

"I'll teach you," he said while moving to sit at the side of the table to her right. He took the deck of cards from her hands and pulled them out of the box once more. "It's easy, you'll catch on quick," he said as he started to shuffle the deck. He knew she would resist. Anything that might be the slightest bit of fun seemed to be a no-go for her. He knew he'd have to work this in tactically. But now that he had her attention, her first excuses to say 'no,' he was ready to go in for the kill. "Unless," he said as he stopped shuffling and looked up at her, "you're afraid to lose."

Her eyes snapped back up to his instantly. She shut the lid of her laptop and pushed it aside to her left, out of the way of the 'game area' Trunks was beginning to setup. "I'm not afraid of anything," she said flatly. "Deal me in."

Trunks smiled as he looked back down at the deck of cards in his hands and started dealing them out. "Okay. I'll go easy on you the first few rounds."

"I only need one round to learn the rules," Armada replied. Trunks could have laughed at her predictably competitive nature. "Now explain what it is that you're doing," she added, referencing his dealing of the cards.

It only took one round for Trunks to explain the rules of five-card stud, a variant of poker. Armada caught on quickly. They played a few hands while Trunks continued to explain the rules, and which hands were ranked higher than others. Armada finally told him to 'get serious,' at which point he laughed but agreed. They played in relative silence, but it was a nice break to the monotony for Trunks, so he didn't care if she wasn't much for conversation. It beat playing solitaire.

"Where are you from?" Armada suddenly asked as she dealt the next hand.

Trunks kept his gaze down on his cards as she finished dealing the hand, thinking about how to respond. Since the Bmyhadians had found his home, Earth, he had learned quite a bit about Earth's place in the galaxy. Apparently it was part of unmapped space, called the Frontier, at the edges of the GaReXa Republic. The Bmyhadian explorers and scientists who found them had been contracted out by the Republic to do their research in that region. Bmyhad was part of the Federation Alliance, a small nation composed of six star systems and a few independent satellites and space stations. The Alliance was bordered by the three major nations in the universe; the GaReXa Republic, LOKI, and the Roffeler Empire. Compared to these nations, the Alliance was new and tiny, almost at the center of mapped space. Which is why the Bmyhadians had to go through the Republic to explore uncharted space.

"You're not from Ute," Armada said as she examined her cards. "You're not a Bmyhadian; they aren't very adept at controlling ki, and you're too clueless about some basic things to be from Bmyhad. So where are you from?" she repeated herself and locked her gaze with his.

"A small planet in the Frontier," Trunks replied. He didn't want to give out the name of his planet, lest she try to look it up for less than savory reasons. While the threat she had laid upon Noran two days ago was funny, he hadn't forgotten about the way she described herself. _A hurricane of death and cruelty_. She wasn't someone he was jumping at the opportunity to trust with sensitive information. "The Bmyhadians found it while charting space under the Republic's jurisdiction," he added as he set down two cards to the side to draw two more. "What about you?" Trunks asked, knowing the opportunity wouldn't rise again anytime soon to try and pry some information out of his employer.

"I'm not 'from' anywhere," she replied flatly, setting down one card to draw one more. "Never lived in the place I was born," she added while examining her hand.

Trunks wasn't surprised at her non-answer. She didn't trust him any more than he trusted her... which he supposed was fair. "How long have you been in Ute?" Trunks asked, examining his hand and realizing he was likely going to win this round. "Would you consider it your home?"

After the first few rounds had been played without betting, Armada pulled out a stack of empty bank cards so they could at least have something to bet by proxy. Real money wasn't at stake, but at least having some kind of counter made it feel more real when they placed their bets. Armada took two bank cards and threw them in the pot. "Raise. I had been on Bmyhad for twenty-two months before I ran into you," she answered him. "I was about to leave, actually, when you helped Dax rob me."

Trunks tossed in two bank cards, then another four. "Raise. I forgot that you knew that guy. How do you know him?" Trunks asked earnestly.

Armada's face scrunched up a bit as she thought about what to do. She threw in the four cards Trunks had tossed in. "Call. Dax and I served in the military together," she added while setting down her hand on the table face-up. She had two kings and two sevens, for a hand of two-pair.

_She's ex-military_, Trunks thought as he set his hand down face-up on the table as well. He had a straight-flush, three through seven of diamonds. _That explains a lot._ "Damn," Armada cursed as she saw that she had lost the hand. She reluctantly pushed the pile of plastic cards over to Trunks. It was then Trunks's turn to deal, so he collected the playing cards and began to shuffle.

"By Utian time, it's getting late. You may want to get some rest," Armada looked up at Trunks as she spoke.

Trunks continued shuffling for a moment, when a thought hit him and he stopped. "What about you?" he asked, fixing his gaze on hers. "I don't think I've seen you sleep once, in what, two months?" Oddly he'd never given it a thought, but he had realized even during moments when he was awake and should have been sleeping, she was seemingly always up. If he didn't already know better, he'd wonder if she was a robot. _Or android,_ he thought with a mental cringe.

"I learned to live on very little sleep," she replied automatically. "Hard to get restful sleep," she began as she moved to the side and stood up from her seat, "when all you do is have nightmares." She didn't spare another glance at Trunks and walked away.

Figuring that was the end to their game, he shoved the deck of cards into its box and shoved it in a jacket pocket. It was certainly interesting, what she said. Armada was the type to put on airs that everything was put together and under control. Why would she suddenly let down that veneer to him? Or rather... did she not realize she had let it down?

* * *

Illumination

Interlude: Breakdown

* * *

Days on the ship in space absolutely crawled, and Trunks was beginning to hate it. He just didn't like being away from fresh air, natural gravity, and other things he'd taken for granted seeing as how he wasn't raised in space. So as he walked through the open air market in Ute next to the river, he felt renewed. Nothing was better than fresh air and sunlight, and the freedom to enjoy both. He and Armada had arrived back in Ute during the night, and he had immediately gone up to the roof of the ship's hangar to get some air. Ute's climate was very pleasant right now, as summer started to come to a close. It was supposed to be the rainy season, but as the local weather reported, things had stayed oddly dry, but not enough to be of concern. Ute had seen showers, but not the raging thunderstorms that were expected this time of year.

After enjoying some early morning star-gazing, Trunks went back inside and slept for a few hours. Now, in the late morning, he decided to head downtown to walk around an enjoy a beautiful day. It wasn't that long ago that walking around in the open like this on his home, Earth, was impossible. And if that's why he felt so damn sentimental about it, he didn't care—he just wanted to enjoy the day.

After spending a few hours downtown, and carrying a large bag of fresh fruits and vegetables, Trunks returned to the hangar. As he approached from down the street, he noticed a truck pull up and park in front of the front entrance to the hangar. Trunks kept walking, and as soon as he reached the truck a young man in a uniform stepped out of the open side door of the truck carrying a package.

"Oh hey," he called out to Trunks, "you live here?" he asked as he took a few steps closer to Trunks and the door to the hangar.

"Yeah," Trunks replied promptly.

"Oh good," the young man sighed in relief, "when I was driving up I was wondering where I was going to leave this." He raised the package slightly at the end of his sentence. "Can I get you to sign for it?"

"Sure," Trunks said and moved his bag of groceries to his left hand to free his right hand to sign with. The delivery man held out a tablet with a signature field already ready to go and handed Trunks a small stylus. He used it to sign, and signed 'Mace Son,' figuring he shouldn't use his own name and coming up with something on the spot. As soon as he signed, the delivery driver took his tablet and stylus back, and handed Trunks the package.

"Thanks bro!" the young driver called out as he stepped back into his truck and drove off. Trunks looked down at the package; it was nothing special. Maybe four inches thick, the box was about the size of a large book, and maybe half as heavy, wrapped in brown paper. Trunks tucked the package under his arm and punched in the security code to unlock the door to the hangar.

Moments later, inside the ship, he set the package down on the table in the lounge and proceeded into the galley carrying his bag of groceries. It appeared that Armada had left sometime after he did earlier, and since the package was likely for her he just left it where she would see it if he didn't get to tell her about it first. Trunks spent a few minutes putting his groceries away, then went to the lounge to catch up on local news. He sat at the same table as the package, paying it no mind as he caught up on some of the latest news and weather reports for the area while snacking on what he considered an apple, though it was a bit sweeter and softer.

After about thirty minutes, Trunks started to feel tired and yawned. Admittedly he didn't get good sleep while on their trip to the Republic and back, so he shut down the terminal in the lounge and headed back to his room to get some rest. No harm in taking a nap when absolutely nothing was going on. As he walked into his room, Trunks threw off his jacket and tossed it onto the lower bunk bed that was unused as she strode over to his bed. He kicked off his boots and flopped down into bed. It was already fairly warm in the ship, so he didn't bother pulling up the covers, but just laid down on his stomach and wrapped his arms around his pillow. Sleeping in normal gravity felt wonderful, and he was all too happy to rest.

* * *

After some time, though he had no idea how long, Trunks started to wake up. He tossed and turned, suddenly feeling very hot. His mouth was dry and he was sweating profusely. Finally he opened his eyes and decided to get up, because his thirst was becoming unbearable. As soon as he sat up, he felt himself drift to the left, as if his whole body were off its axis. His head felt like it was full of water, and he reached up to place his right hand against his forehead. _What... the hell...?_ he thought in confusion at his condition. He felt fine earlier, now he felt like he'd baked in an oven for several hours and someone had hit him in the head hard enough to destroy his balance. Trunks forced himself to his feet, and immediately swayed. He managed to take a few steps to grab the wall next to the door to prevent himself from falling over completely.

He opened the door to his room, determined to get to the galley and grab some water. His body ached for it at this point. He pulled himself upright using the door frame, and began walking down the hallway, using the right side of the hall for support. He felt himself spinning out of control in one direction, while it felt like the ship itself swayed in the other. He breathed heavily, and his hands—no, arms—no, his _entire body_ shook violently as he tried to make the trip to the galley.

Suddenly his limbs started to feel heavy, like the heaviest metal on Earth and he stopped walking. He couldn't will himself to move forward; he couldn't call upon his energy to help him. Each time he tried, it immediately fizzled out, like he was trying to grab bubbles and hold them in his hand only for them to burst and disappear into nothing. Leaning completely against the wall of the ship, he gritted his teeth. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and he had to figure out what. Because at the rate he felt his health declining, he was pretty sure it would only stop once he was dead.

"Hahh!" Trunks let out a yell as he pushed one more step forward, only to fall completely to the ground. After he collapsed, he lifted his head slightly to look down the hallway into the bridge. His vision blurred, and he could barely make out what he was looking at.

Was it really coming to an end like this? He was, arguably, the strongest being in the universe, and here he was being taken down by some mysterious illness? If he could, Trunks would have laughed at the irony. It all made sense. This was some cosmic balance coming into play. He saved Goku, the strongest warrior of his time, from a heart virus, only to succumb to something similar. Apparently somebody was meant to die like that. Maybe that was it; you couldn't escape fate, you could only push it off onto someone else.

As his eyes fell shut, Trunk's left hand clenched into a fist and he thought of his mother, Bulma. She was going to be so angry with him.

* * *

Armada opened the door to the ship and immediately in her view was a hand, attached to an arm that lay out of her view to her left. Her eyes shot wide and she stepped inside to find Trunks laying in the hallway. "Trunks!" she shouted out to him as she took one knee at his side. He was laying face down, so she turned him over onto his back and held his head up. He was breathing heavily, but they were shallow, quick breaths. His skin was almost burning to the touch, and he was drenched in sweat. _He's sick,_ Armada thought as her eyebrows came together. She set his head down gently and flew to the infirmary.

On her way, something caught her eye in the lounge and she stopped. There was a small package wrapped in brown paper sitting on the table. Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately realized what was going on. He wasn't sick; he'd been _poisoned_, and that meant there was nothing she could do to save him.

She flew to the galley and grabbed a large plastic bag. With the bag in hand, she returned to the package, and using the bag to shield her hands, she lifted and tossed it into the bag. She hurriedly tied it off, and flew back to where Trunks lay in the hallway. She lifted up his back first, so he was in a sitting position. Keeping her left hand on his back, she turned to face him and put her right arm around his chest to his back, underneath his left arm. She then stood, lifting him up with her, and his body weight fell into her. He wasn't too heavy for her to lift; she had the energy to expend. The problem was that he was about five inches taller than her, which made him awkward to carry.

Armada hefted him up a bit higher, so her arms were wrapped around his waist as his head hung over her left shoulder. She then reached down to pick up the bag with the package in it, and started flying backwards to make sure she got him out of the doorway all right. With that obstacle cleared, she closed the door to the ship and headed down to the main entrance of the hangar. There wasn't time to load him up into the car and drive... she'd just have to fly there. Which she hated to do, because it draw all kinds of attention to them. But if his condition was any indication, they didn't have time for discretion right now. Besides, she already didn't want to do what she was about to do, but it was the only way to save him at this point.

She took him to the hospital.

* * *

When Trunks finally willed his eyes open, he whole body ached. If he had to guess, he would have said he'd been smashed under one of Ute's giant skyscrapers, or dropped into the deepest trenches of the ocean where the water pressure would liquefy his bones. As his vision finally decided to obey him and focus, he started to take in his surroundings. There were lights above him, but they were turned off. The room was still pretty well-lit, and the ceiling was white. So were the walls. That was when Trunks realized he wasn't taking breaths; something was taking breaths for him. He tried to lift his hands, which didn't happen—but he felt his hands twitching in response to the command.

"Take it easy," Trunks heard and suddenly his vision was filled with that of a man with dark hair and glasses looking down at him from his right side. The voice sounded far away, and it echoed in his brain like it was being projected into his skull. "You're still way too close to death to try any of that," the man spoke once more. If Trunks had to guess, this guy wasn't much older than himself. But who was he? And where was he?

Trunks felt a hand on his right hand, and it squeezed lightly. "You feel that?" the man asked. Trunks tried to nod, and while he was sure he was unable to do so, the man responded with "Good," as if he had understood the Earthling's futile attempt to move. "But you need to lie still until we finish getting the contagion out of your system."

_Contagion? _Trunks thought in confusion. What the hell had happened?

The man's attention was dragged away from Trunks's face for a moment. "Well, your blood pressure's rising, and we can't have that right now," he finished and turned back to Trunks briefly before walking away. "Just relax, let your body heal," Trunks heard the man speak even though he was out of his line of sight. Seconds later, Trunks's eyelids felt heavier than whatever thing had crushed him, and he couldn't stop them from rolling shut.

* * *

The next time Trunks opened his eyes, he didn't have to struggle. Not only could he open his eyes without any real effort, he was able to sit up, albeit leaned back on his elbows. A white sheet slid down his chest, which was bare, and Trunks looked around the room. From the instruments he saw, his bed, and the intravenous fluids line running into his chest, he was able to quickly deduce that he was in a hospital. It was no hospital on Earth, though, because it seemed a lot more high tech than what they had at home.

Ute. Bmyhad. He was in Bmyhad. Everything came back in a rush. He and Armada had just gotten back from their last job. He'd gone downtown, he signed for a package, he went to take a nap, and that's when all hell broke loose. But how did he end up here? He briefly remembered collapsing while trying to get to some water, but nothing after that besides waking up where he was now.

Before he had a chance to really think about it, the door to his room slid open, and a young man not much older than himself with short dark hair and glasses walked in. He wore a white lab coat, not unlike the ones Devan and Murtole wore. "Good, this time it wasn't a false alarm," the man said as he strode in and walked over to Trunks. He looked a console sitting near Trunks's bed for a moment, before he turned to Trunks. "You want to sit up? Here let me adjust your bed," he said and with a few button clicks Trunks felt the bed moving. After a moment it settled in a spot so that when he leaned back against it, and off of his elbows, he was still sitting upright.

"I'm Dr. Rema," the man finally spoke to Trunks, "and you were in pretty bad shape." He paused a moment before continuing, "What's your name kid?" Trunks was confused, but before he could say anything, the doctor spoke once more. "She didn't tell me your name, just threatened to kill me and destroy the hospital if you didn't wake up. I'm used to her threats, but this time it seems kinda personal," he finished with a laugh.

Dr. Rema spoke forcefully and quickly. Trunks was still kind of in shock as to everything that was happening. But more importantly, "Who?" Trunks asked. His voice came out a lot smaller and weaker than he thought it should.

Dr. Rema eyed him warily for a moment. "Who brought you here?" he supplied. "Armada. You know her. At least I'm assuming you do because she doesn't normally threaten to kill me and mean it." Trunks sat soaking in the information for a moment. "Yes I know who she is," Rema preemptively answered a question he figured his patient was about to ask. "I've treated her before. But your name, kid, you got one?"

This doctor seemed kind of... unorthodox, to put it mildly. He was very blunt and abrupt, for a Bmyhadian. The few that Trunks knew weren't like this at all, so he thought it may have been a cultural thing. Leave it to a doctor to prove him wrong.

"Toran," Trunks answered. It couldn't hurt to give out a fake name.

"Toran, nice to meet you," the doctor replied, still standing at Trunks's bedside. "Like I said, I'm Dr. Alten Rema. I've been treating you since you were dropped off here at First Mercy of Malleas Hospital eight days ago. Do you remember what happened?"

Trunks shook his head briefly before letting out a breath and letting his head fall back against his pillow. "Not really. I had just come back from the market by the river. I was tired, so I took a nap, and when I woke up," he trailed off.

"You left out the part where you signed for a package," Dr. Rema cut in. Trunks opened his mouth to speak but the good doctor cut him off at his knees. "That package was poisoned with a biochemical agent," Dr. Rema stated flatly. "The other guy, the one who delivered it to you? He got here too late. He's dead."

"_Kami_..." Trunks said under his breath as his gaze fell.

"It was an attack," Rema continued. "Although I don't think it was meant for you, and neither does she."

"Armada, where is she?" Trunks looked up at Rema once again.

"Hell if I know," he replied. "She dropped you off and stayed long enough for me to take your case and threaten me, then she bailed. That's generally the script when she drops someone off for me, although..." the doctor trailed off as he averted Trunks's gaze.

"What?" Trunks pressed. He wanted to know what the doctor seemed reluctant to say.

"Although usually she only wants them to survive so she can either interrogate them or turn them in for bounty," he added. "You're the first one she's brought me that she wanted to live for... well... to live, I guess, hell if I know what she's thinking," he added on. "Anyway, how do you feel?" Rema changed the subject to the true matter at hand.

"Tired, but... good," Trunks answered honesty.

"Excellent," Rema replied and turned back to the console. "I'll have you discharged this afternoon. But you can't use your power for another two days," he added and looked to Trunks. "You're not fully healed yet."

Trunks was shocked; he didn't know what to say. What did this doctor know about him, exactly?

Rema laughed, "Oh don't panic kid, treating people like you is what makes my life interesting. A nurse will be in shortly to get your prepared to leave." Dr. Rema smiled at Trunks before he turned and walked out the door with a careless sense of speed.

Trunks let out a deep breath. He almost couldn't believe what had happened, especially since apparently eight days had passed and he remembered none of it. Being hospitalized in critical condition for more than a week, he knew that meant it was bad. Trunks lifted his right hand and flexed the muscles, clenching and relaxing his fist. He wondered if he didn't have the speedy healing of his Saiyan genes if he would have survived. Clearly a normal person wouldn't, if the delivery driver's death was any indication.

* * *

Several hours later, Trunks was finally walking back into the ship. At the hospital, they only had the clothes he was wearing when he was brought in, a tank top, a pair of pants, and a pair of underwear. Thankfully they had disinfected his clothes instead of just incinerating them. They found a pair of shoes in the lost and found that would fit him, though he was fairly certain "lost and found" meant people who died and nobody claimed their belongings. He only needed the shoes to get back to the hangar, from there he'd toss them out.

While Trunks was still careful to not exercise his energy use just yet as Dr. Rema had instructed, he could sense that Armada wasn't in. As he walked down the hallway to his quarters, he noticed that the ship smelled weird. Almost like... chemicals. When he entered his room, it became abundantly clear as to why that was.

The chemical smell was much stronger in here, and the sheets had been stripped from all the beds, washed, folded, and left on each bed awaiting placement. On his bed, the one that wasn't part of the bunk beds set, his belongings were all sitting out on the bed. Trunks walked over and picked up his blue Capsule Corp jacket, and it unfolded in his hands as he lifted it. Clearly Armada had cleaned the entire ship, which explained the smell. He was slightly shocked though, that she hadn't simply burned his things and told him to buy new. That was what he expected, at least. Instead, everything was here, neatly folded, just waiting for him to return.

He felt a twinge of guilt. She could have let him die. And sadly, he half expected her to. Instead, she saved his life—she took him to the hospital. She cleaned the ship. She _took care_ of his things, the key being care. He wouldn't have given her enough credit to do all of this before. Dismissing the thoughts, because he had things he needed to do, Trunks set his jacket down and kicked off his borrowed shoes. It was early evening, and he was starving; it was time to make something to eat. He headed to the galley, leaving his things to be sorted and put away later.

If Trunks had taken a closer look at his belongings, if he had gone into his bathroom and opened the cabinet he kept locked, he would have seen the ID and watch he had recently recovered were both gone.

* * *

Grelb was thrown backward into a wooden table, which splintered underneath the force with which he was thrown, and he crumbled to the ground with it. The young man, with his brown hair cut almost short enough to be considered shaved, tried to raise his head slightly and face his assailant. Blood trickled down into his right eye from a gash in his forehead, opened when she'd bludgeoned him with a shock rod. He was drenched in water from his neck down to his torso, from where she had subsequently half-drowned him in a sink to wake him up after knocking him unconscious with the aforementioned shock rod. He wasn't sure what was next as she stalked toward him, but he was sure it wouldn't be good.

Armada reached down and grabbed Grelb by the blue collar of his jacket, lifting him up off the ground and into the air. His hands hung limply at his sides; he was in no condition to fight back. She'd already barged in and killed six men, Grelb was the only one she didn't immediately murder. Instead, she was trying to beat information out of him. And in her opinion, it was only a matter of time before he talked.

"How'd you get the address to send the package?" Armada asked calmly but with murderous rage simmering just beneath the surface. Grelb only stared at her, saying nothing. Armada let go of his jacket, and before Grelb's body had a moment to react to gravity and begin to fall, she had her hand around his throat. He immediately coughed; her grip reinforced her intentions.

"Do you want to be a rotting corpse like the rest of your friends?" she asked with that same, even but barely contained dark rage filled tone. Grelb stayed silent and choked for air. Armada clenched her teeth and her grip on his throat. "I don't have the patience to deal with you today! Tell me what I want to know or _I'll rip your lungs out with my bare hands!_" she screamed loud enough to shake the building, or at least Grelb thought the building shook.

Grelb brought his hands up slowly to her arm, trying to indicate that he couldn't speak with her vice grip around his neck. In response, she dropped him to the ground. He sat up halfway and coughed, until Armada leaned over him and backhanded him across the face with her armored right forearm. His mouth immediately began to fill with blood from her strike, and she lowered her face to his. "Speak," she ordered.

"Tracking you for months," Grelb managed to blurt out between coughs as he gingerly held his throat with his left hand. "Dax got the money, but Rieve wanted blood," he added, finishing with gasps.

Armada realized, as she suspected, that the biochemical attack was only the start of an onslaught. "Who did they send?" she asked the local cell leader for Rieve in Ute. Grelb only coughed in response, to which Armada's gaze filled with fury. She stood upright and stomped on Grelb's abdomen with her right foot, which he responded to by crying out in agony.

Grelb wrapped his arms around his sides and rolled over slightly, desperately fighting to breathe. She had collapsed his lungs with that last hit, and he couldn't speak until he regained lung function.

"Finding it hard to breathe?" she taunted maliciously. "I can fix that for you," she leaned down so Grelb could look into her eyes, "but you've got to work with me."

Unable to bear the pain of suffocating any longer, Grelb nodded furiously. Armada turned and grabbed an empty syringe lying on the floor. She bent down over Grelb and stabbed him in the chest with it, slightly left of center. She pushed down on the syringe, forcing air into one of Grelb's collapsed lungs. He immediately gasped for breath, but the unbearable pain hadn't quite subsided, as his right lung was still useless at the moment. She then yanked the syringe out, and Grelb's body twitched.

Armada reached down with her free left hand and grabbed Grelb by the jaw. "I won't ask again. Who did they send?!" she shouted at him with a fury that made him pray that his reinforcements would arrive soon.

"I don't know his name," Grelb managed to spit out between clenched teeth as the mercenary held him by his jaw. "He's an elite, part of Rieve's personal squad. He was supposed to arrive a couple hours ago," Grelb croaked out before he started coughing again.

Armada dropped him. Despite being the Utian cell leader, he was still a low level lackey. If he knew anything, that would be the sum of it. Before Grelb could say anything else, she thrust the syringe into his chest, this time into his heart, and much farther than just the needle. Grelb gurgled up more blood for a moment before falling silent. Armada let out a breath, and turned to leave.

Before she had turned fully, she was met with a shock rod in her face. The force was far greater than a normal shock rod, and Armada stumbled backwards, both temporarily stunned and blinded by the force. She immediately felt hands scrambling for her, so she lashed out and attempted to jump back and away from where she perceived the threat to be. Unfortunately, just as her vision returned, someone managed to clamp down one half of a set of AEM cuffs on her left arm. However, with her armor on, the cuffs couldn't seal properly and their hooks couldn't penetrate her armor. The one cuff still managed to shut down her use of her energy, but it wouldn't stop her from fighting back.

Just because she could fight back didn't mean she'd get away without any injuries.

* * *

Later that night, well after Trunks had eaten and gone to bed, he awoke to a noise in the hangar. Immediately he sensed Armada's energy, and jumped up to meet her. He ran down the hall to the entrance to the ship and opened the door. He saw lights down below, and when they shut off he realized that she'd pulled the car into the hangar. He flew down to where she had parked, and his eyes widened at the grisly sight that greeted him.

She had collapsed over the steering column, and when she sensed he was standing next to the vehicle, she brought her eyes up to look at him, gasping for breath. She reached across her body with her right hand to open the door to the car, and Trunks almost felt sick when he saw the amount of blood running from a large cut in her left side. She had her left hand on it, trying to apply pressure, but blood ran down freely like an open faucet.

"What happened?!" Trunks near screamed in shock as he reached out to help her get out of the vehicle.

She immediately smacked his hands away with her right hand, leaving smears of her own blood on him. "Don't touch me," she ground out through clenched teeth and harried breaths, glaring at him with an intensity Trunks had not seen from her before.

Trunks was now possibly just as enraged as she was. She was bleeding out, practically dying, and she was acting like a petulant child? He wasn't going to ignore her. He reached in and grabbed her by her left upper arm and dragged her out of the vehicle, quick enough that she could hardly react. That didn't stop her, though, and no sooner had he dragged her to her feet, she swung at him with a right hook.

Trunks easily caught her right fist with his left hand, and growled. He was cut off before he had a chance to speak, however, when she shouted at him, "I don't need your help!"

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. This... was she really doing this again? The pressure of everything, of not understanding her, of not getting what was going on, of nearly dying, laying in the hallway of the ship saying his own mental goodbyes to his mother and friends back home—it caused him to snap at her in a way he hadn't snapped in many years. "_What the fuck's the matter with you?!_" he screamed right back at her. His words echoed through the hangar, and they both froze.

After she stood still for the briefest moment, Armada started to struggle against his grasp and opened her mouth to speak. Realizing that words and reason were lost on her, Trunks did the only thing he could think of. He released her right hand and before she had time to react, he threw a swift uppercut into her abdomen.

Armada's eyes widened as the wind rushed out of her lungs, shocked that he'd actually _hit_ her. She sputtered and fell forward, collapsing into Trunks's arms. "I'm sorry," he said, knowing she didn't have the energy to fight back. "I'm sorry," he repeated again as he pulled her close to him and flew back up into the ship with her in tow.

Once they were in the infirmary, Trunks set her down on the steel table in the center of the room. She still gasped for breath, and when Trunks made eye contact with her, she glared at him. He ignored her and turned to the cabinets housing the miniature hospital's worth of medications and bandages, only to find to his shock that the cabinets were empty. When he went to make his dinner earlier, he noticed that the galley had been completely emptied. He thought nothing of it, and just went out and bought more groceries, figuring that she had gotten rid of everything in an effort to decontaminate the ship. He never considered she would do the same with their medical supplies.

"Where is everything?" Trunks turned to Armada and asked in a panic, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

"Had to decontaminate the ship," Armada replied through clenched teeth and strained breaths. She struggled to sit up, and reached for the latch on her chestplate. Trunks stepped over to her and helped her remove her chestplate. With that aside, Armada then pulled the black fabric of her underarmor down her torso to reveal the wound in its full glory. It wasn't as bad as the amount of blood loss led Trunks to believe, but it was bad—she would need stitches at the last, and they had nothing.

"You wanna help asshole," Armada said as she put pressure on her wound with both hands now, "then listen carefully. In the cargo bay, there's a small black box with a handle, it says 'electrical' in red lettering. Grab that." Trunks started to leave until she called out, "Wait, one more thing. The lockbox in the hall," she continued, and Trunks knew what she was talking about. That was their 'safe,' it was where they kept their earnings. "The code is two-three-five-zero-seven-seven-one-three-eight, grab the bottle that's inside."

With his orders given, Trunks flew down the hall into the cargo bay. He knew Dr. Rema said to not use his energy for two more days, but using this little bit for quick bursts of speed, or throwing a punch, was nothing, and hopefully it wouldn't effect anything. He saw the box in the cargo bay on the back wall, sitting on a work bench. Snatching it, he flew back upstairs and stopped at the lockbox in the hallway across from the infirmary. He quickly punched in the code, and inside was an unmarked glass bottle, among other things. He grabbed the bottle and flew back to the infirmary.

Inside the infirmary, Armada was now sitting upright, and she had removed her arm guards and the top half of her underarmor, leaving her in her black bandeau from the waist-up. She quickly took the bottle and black case from Trunks. First, she opened the bottle and started gulping down its contents, blood smearing on the glass from her right hand as she held it. With half the bottle gone in a flash, she then removed her left hand from her wound and poured some of the liquid down into her sliced open flesh. She winced at the pain, and from the smell Trunks understood just what was in the bottle—alcohol.

She set the bottle down, then proceeded to open the black box. Inside was a wiring kit, with several gauges and types of metal wire. Armada grabbed the thinnest gauge of wire inside the box, and started pulling several meters loose before she bent the wire and ripped it apart from the spool. With no needle to guide her, she just used the sharp tip of the wire and began stitching her wound shut. Noticing right away that she was struggling to hold the wound together and stitch it shut, Trunks reached in to help. He forced the edges of her cut together, and held them there so she could sew the wound closed.

In a few minutes they were done, and Armada laid back against the steel table. She was still breathing heavily, but after a moment she finally spoke. "Cargo bay," she said while looking at the ceiling, "there's a crate marked ACI-5426." She didn't have to say anymore, Trunks flew back down to the cargo bay.

When he found the crate she indicated and opened it, he found the same packets of artificial blood they had kept in the infirmary. So while they didn't have everything they needed, apparently she stockpiled artificial blood. Trunks quickly returned with just one box of the fluid from the crate, as the crate contained four boxes. He set it down on the counter inside the infirmary and pulled out a packet, and prepared it for her.

He turned around to face her and took her left arm to insert the needle. This time she didn't fight him, and once it was in, he hung the bag of fluids on the rack attached to the operating table she laid on. She wanted to move, she wanted to yell at him, she wanted to go hide in her room, but all of that took strength and energy and motivation she didn't have at the moment.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowed to a more normal pace, and she finally spoke. "That was a cheap shot," she said, looking into his eyes from the corner of hers. It was infuriating to suffer two cheap shots from men recently; something like this rarely happened for her, and now she had two in such a short period of time.

"I know," Trunks replied, his face sullen. He could almost feel the anger emanating from her.

She stared at him a moment longer before turning her face away from him completely. They sat in silence for twenty? thirty? forty minutes? Trunks wasn't sure how long, but it was long enough for the artificial blood bag to empty into Armada's system. She was feeling significantly better already, so she stood up and walked over to one of the chairs in the infirmary, carrying her bottle of alcohol with her.

Trunks brought over another bag of artificial blood and connected the line that was already inserted into her arm. Armada sat back in the seat and took a long drink of whatever alcohol was in that bottle. Trunks leaned against the counter over by the operating table, keeping his distance from Armada. "You don't have to babysit me," she finally spoke up.

"No, I don't have to," Trunks agreed, "but I'm here."

"You're an idiot," she said between still slightly strained breaths. "You should let me die, then you wouldn't owe me anything."

"I'd still owe you my life," Trunks replied quickly. He stared at her with a look of guarded anger.

Armada's gaze turned away from him. "That bastard doctor never listens to what I tell him," she cursed and took another drink from her bottle.

"Like that matters," Trunks responded. "Who else would have gotten in here to find me?" Logically, she was the only other person who had access to both the hangar and the ship.

Armada rolled her head around to glare at Trunks. Her face was red, and at first he was concerned until she spoke again. "I can't afford for my _merchandise_ to be damaged," she said with a little difficulty. Trunks would have been insulted, except that he realized she was drunk—which made sense, as the bottle was almost empty. He was surprised, until he thought about it and surmised that she was drinking as a painkiller, seeing as how she had dumped their entire stock in the infirmary. She took another drink, finishing off the bottle, and set it on the floor while turning away from Trunks so he couldn't see her face.

"Whatever your reasons, I'm still here. Thank you," he said sadly. What was her game? What was the point of all of this? She saved his life, and he was grateful, yet she wanted him to leave her to die at the first opportunity. None of it made sense. Unless she was insane, which Trunks would be lying to say he hadn't seriously considered several times now.

Realizing she wasn't going to say anything more, Trunks left the infirmary. She was in somewhat stable condition. As he walked back to his quarters, he realized he still had her blood all over his hands and clothes. So there would at least be a shower before he went back to bed.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please leave a review! :]


	9. Interlude: Downpour

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

That whole poisoned-by-a-biochemical-attack-and-almost-died episode had put more hurt on Trunks than he realized. After dealing with the mess Armada brought back with her and going back to bed, he slept until late morning. He never really slept this much, even after the androids and Cell were gone and he had nothing to worry about back home. The only explanation was that while he felt fine, he _was_ still recovering.

He didn't spend much time getting up and getting breakfast before he started checking things out around the ship. He could sense Armada was down in the cargo bay, so clearly she hadn't run off yet, but he still expected her to. He took a quick look outside the ship in the hangar at the car, it was now parked properly and totally cleaned out. It smelled almost like it was new, and yet he knew it wasn't. The infirmary was cleaned up as well, and everything smelled like disinfectant. Trunks had slept for six hours after that whole debacle, and while part of him wasn't shocked to see everything taken care of already, he was still a bit disturbed by it. When he left her, she had lost a lot of blood and was drunk. In six hours she had accomplished all of this?

Noting that the infirmary was still empty for supplies save the one box of artificial blood he'd brought up from the cargo bay, Trunks figured their first job today would be to resupply the ship properly. Which required talking to Armada. Which he wasn't particularly keen on at the moment, since he figured she was still mad about that punch. She clearly wasn't the type to let things like that go easily.

Trunks jumped down the ladder into the cargo bay, and saw Armada leaned over and focused intensely on something at a machine near the workbench in the back. From where he stood all he could see was her back. He walked over, and took note of her condition. Her ki felt even and stable, though suppressed as his always was. She had bandages wrapped around her abdomen covering the length of the slash that he had helped her stitch up earlier this morning. He wasn't sure where she'd found bandages, but then again he had no idea what was in the crates stocked in the belly of the ship.

As Trunks approached, the machine stopped momentarily and Armada moved something. When he got around the side to see what she was doing, it suddenly became clear. She was sitting at what looked like a highly sophisticated version of a sewing machine. She had a set of goggles on, and used a foot pedal to make the needle move on the black fabric she was holding underneath it. Without taking her attention from her task, she spoke over the noise of the machine. "What?" she said tersely.

"What are you doing?" Trunks couldn't help but ask. Really, a sewing machine? It couldn't be as simple as it appeared.

"Repairing my armor," she answered automatically. "I have to reattach the individual threads to restore the fabric's integrity." Surprisingly, she didn't sound too angry. Well, at least for the moment.

"Wow," Trunks said without thinking as he watched. Recreating the individual threads then reforming them in their proper weaving? It was a little intense to watch. No wonder she needed the goggles.

Armada pushed her right foot down slightly and ran the machine for a few seconds before she stopped. She sat up and pushed the goggles back and on top of her head before turning to look at her fellow mercenary.

"I've got a list of supplies I need you to go get, so we can restock everything I had to throw out," she said rather plainly. If she was still angry, she was doing a good job of hiding it, or at least Trunks thought so. Before Trunks could respond in the affirmative, she continued. "There's a tablet sitting on the table in the lounge, it has everything you need to get and where to go pick it up."

Trunks nodded as she turned away from him, looking back at her work. He was about to walk away when he saw a long black rod sitting nearby on the floor, leaning against the workbench. He took two steps to clear the distance between him and the black rod, and asked as he picked it up, "Hey, is this a shock rod?"

"Yes," Armada replied, turning her gaze to him once more.

The handle looked different than the ones he had seen; it had a very pale yellow hexagon pattern around the handle. As soon as Trunks wrapped his right hand around that handle, he felt a strange sensation. It was almost like the handle was very slowly pulling his energy out through his hand, where it was attached to the handle. Curious, he attempted to charge a small amount of energy in his hand, which he immediately felt swept out by the rod. The other end jolted with eletricity, enough that it crackled in the air and a tendril shot out and hit the ceiling of the cargo bay, leaving a black mark.

"_Kami_!" Trunks almost jumped back at the burst of electricity; he didn't think he'd fed it that much energy.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Armada shouted at him as she stood and yanked the shock rod from his hands, giving him an angry glare.

"I'm sorry," Trunks almost stammered out, feeling rather embarrassed.

Armada stepped away from him and set the shock rod down on her workbench. She paused a moment, her shoulders slumping as she let out a deep sigh. She turned and looked at Trunks with an irritated gaze briefly before she spoke. "It's an augmented shock rod, not the standard you've seen. If someone like you or I is holding it, you can push your energy into it and directly power the electrical nodes at the end, which makes it a hell of a lot more dangerous in the right hands," she finished with an irritated glare.

"Where'd you get that?" Trunks asked; he was certain he would have seen it before now.

"I don't know," she answered, still glaring at him, "where'd you get the ID and the watch?"

Trunks's eyes widened slightly and he was stunned into silence. She knew about that? _No, of course she does,_ he thought. She had scoured the ship to clean everything after he got sick from that damn package, so she would have found it. He never bothered to check since he got back yesterday, so it didn't occur to him.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she fixed him with one last glare. "Get out," she said and stepped around him to seat herself at back at the high-tech version of a sewing machine and slid her goggles back down over her eyes. The machine hummed to life again, and she continued her work, ignoring him.

Trunks turned his gaze away, his eyes falling to the side. Now doubly embarrassed, he felt he had nothing else to say. She'd already given him her 'orders,' all he had to do was execute. So he left the cargo bay, grabbed the tablet, and shortly after that left the hangar. Might as well do something useful.

* * *

_I stand alone for all to see,  
'Cause they ain't never seen a war like me_

_ -Shinedown, "Son of Sam"_

* * *

Illumination

Interlude: Downpour

* * *

By late afternoon, Trunks returned to the hangar and parked the car just inside the building's doors. Armada had quite a list of things to get, but luckily for him they all fit either within the car or the trunk. He brought everything into the ship, and they both sorted and stocked everything properly. With the infirmary's cabinets full to the threat of exploding, Trunks felt a significant sense of relief. So far, they needed that room more than he would have liked.

When that work was finished, Trunks ate a late lunch in the lounge and watched the local news. A huge thunderstorm was due to hit Ute tonight—no surprise since it was that time of year, or so the broadcast indicated. It was a splinter storm from a typhoon hitting on the eastern shores of the continent Ute was located on. Since returning, he mainly focused on the tasks at hand, but he kept an eye on Armada. She'd said nothing to him outside of simple commands or replies to questions on where to put things. She was quiet, but this was a different level of quiet from her. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he intended to find out.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, and when it was time for dinner, Armada cooked. It wasn't that strange for her to do so, but he'd done more of the cooking since his stay began than she did. Even stranger than that, she made tea for the two of them, and they sat together in the lounge and ate.

"You have to be careful," Armada suddenly spoke and Trunks turned his gaze up to her mid-bite.

After taking a moment to swallow so his mouth wasn't full of food—he still remembered a slap from his mother across the face as a teenager, and the memory of that stung more than punches from the androids did—he finally responded. "What?"

She didn't look at him, but kept her gaze fixed on her food. "There's a lot of things about this world, about the universe, that you don't know. You can't just fumble through and expect to get out unharmed."

Trunks stared at her for a moment and his face settled into a look of concern. What was this about? This was not the Armada he knew. She sounded like she was giving him a lecture... as if she wouldn't be able to give him this advice later on. "And what's prompting this conversation?" he asked, not having the patience to beat around the bush.

She turned and fixed him with a stare that he couldn't place. "Someone says they have a package for you that you are not expecting and you sign for it? You feel a device manipulating your energy so you release it? Do I need to continue?" she asked. Something was different, she didn't seem angry, or any variation of angry, which was what Trunks had pretty much been presented with from her since they met. He couldn't place it.

But her words pissed him off, so he focused on that. "And I'm supposed to take advice on how to care for myself from the woman who has said repeatedly that she doesn't give a shit about _anything_?" he asked tersely, his anger starting to show through. She was calling _him_ careless? She was the one showing up at all hours of the night bloody and beaten, requiring _his_ help to piece herself back together. And he didn't exactly forget that in her haste last night, she'd referred to him as her _merchandise_. He was in no mood to put up with more of her derision and insults.

Armada's face tightened, and Trunks thought she was going to say something, but instead she got up from her seat and walked into the galley, taking her plate with her. He watched her walk out but said nothing. So much for figuring out what she was up to. He dismissed the thought and focused on finishing his meal.

Shortly after he was done eating and had cleaned up the galley, Trunks felt very tired. Figuring he was still exhausted from recovering from... whatever that poison was, he couldn't remember, he went to his room to rest.

He failed to notice that during their meal, Armada never took a sip of her tea.

* * *

A young man that looked to be about Trunks's height and build, though maybe a little slimmer around the hips, stood under an awning and sighed. He flexed the muscles across his shoulders and rolled his neck, trying to loosen up a bit. He had arrived in Temelt-Ran yesterday, just as the city was going haywire over a typhoon warning. Everyone had been ordered to evacuate, including the hotel he was staying in and its staff. But Corvus wouldn't evacuate; he didn't need to. Besides, he had a job to do, and if Ryan knew he'd taken the first day off upon arrival to rest, he'd have been pissed.

Corvus ran a hand through his short white hair and cleared his throat. He stretched again and yawned. He almost couldn't believe how much his muscles ached from the long trip on that cramped shuttle. Why'd he have to take a public shuttle anyway? He was going to complain when he got back to base; he was important enough to get his own private shuttle at this point. Especially for trips halfway across the damn universe. Which brought another problem: Corvus was wide awake and it was just after midnight. Bmyhad's day and night were reversed from where he spent most of his time. He was in a deserted city, at night, in the middle of a serious storm.

Despite all that, Corvus still stood under the front awning of his hotel as the rain absolutely poured around him. Thunder chimed in, and he reached inside his blue suit jacket with his right hand for his cigarettes. Just then, his phone rang out, so he diverted his right hand to the outside right pocket of his jacket for his phone. When he looked at the number dialing his, he shook his head with a quiet "Finally," added under his breath.

He flipped the phone open and immediately started talking. "Grelb, goddamnit, what took you so long to call? I thought they told you I was getting into town yesterday? Well, whatever, when are you gonna meet me here?"

There was a pause on the line for a moment before someone spoke. "Grelb's not coming," a woman responded and the call was immediately terminated. Corvus spun around, and just as he turned he saw a woman step out of the shadows and throw an object at him. He reached out with his left hand and caught it easily.

Corvus turned the object over and realized it was a phone, just like his... except this one had dried blood smeared on the outside of it. Corvus looked up at the woman and glared; he knew exactly what was going on.

"Grelb wasn't much of anything besides a little shit, but I still expected him to keep a better eye out on everything going on over here," Corvus said as he put away his comrade's phone into the same pocket as his own. "Then again," Corvus continued, much calmer than before, "I shouldn't be surprised considering what you did that started this whole mess."

Armada stood only a meter away from Corvus, wearing her armor with her hair tied back into a braid, except her bangs. She said nothing as she looked at the man sent to kill her; he was a hair taller than Trunks, although a little leaner. He had short white hair that was spiked up, and green eyes that almost glowed in the dark. She didn't know his name, but she knew he was one of Rieve's more powerful assassins sent to end her quarrel with the group.

Corvus went ahead and pulled out his cigarette case from the inside pocket of his jacket. He quickly took one cigarette out and stuck it between his lips as he put the case away. He looked to Armada briefly and asked, "Mind if I have a smoke? I was gonna have one while waiting for Grelb to pick me up, but obviously that isn't gonna happen." Armada said nothing and didn't move, so Corvus shrugged and lifted his right hand to the tip of the cigarette. Using his ki, he created a small ball of energy to light his cigarette and then let it dissipate as soon as the end caught fire.

He took a long drag on his cigarette before addressing his target once more. "I'm Corvus, nice to meet you Armada," he started. "I'm sure you know why I'm here, so we can skip that part," he continued. "Besides," he said, taking another deep breath, "we already got your money, so there's just one thing left to take."

Armada waited patiently. She knew he was trying to drag this out, to try and catch her off guard. But she came prepared. This wasn't going to be easy; she knew that. Corvus was right, and she knew that too. Dax took her money, if Rieve still wanted something from her it was the only thing she had left that wounded their pride... she still lived.

Corvus took another long drag on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smothering it with his left foot. "I gotta warn you, I'm not gonna go easy on you. Ryan wants you dead, but he wants your body as proof," he finished. Which meant, and he was sure she knew, that he couldn't just vaporize her with his energy. He'd have to beat her to death, which while it would be fun for him to really exercise his abilities, wouldn't be fun for her.

Corvus smirked and made his move.

* * *

"_Murtole!" Trunks shouted as he ran over to his friend. He turned over Murtole's body, and the young man's eyes were wide open and lifeless, blood staining the front of his lab coat. "Murtole!" Trunks screamed, knowing it was already too late. He looked up, and a few meters ahead of him, Devan's lifeless body dropped to the ground. "Devan, no!" Trunks shouted. He was paralyzed with fear; what was happening?!_

_It was then that out of the darkness Trunks could see her. Armada. "What are you doing?!" Trunks shrieked as he stood. He hadn't felt this kind of pain, this kind of loneliness and despair in years. Why? Why was she murdering his friends? What had they done to deserve this?_

_She turned to square up toward him, and fell into a fighting stance. Her energy then erupted around her, creating a bright green aura as her eyes glowed the same shade of green. _

This isn't right..._ Trunks thought as he stared at her. This wasn't her energy; it didn't match the Armada he knew. Not only that, but it was frighteningly powerful, more than he'd ever imagined she was capable of._

Trunks rolled over and opened his eyes. It was just a bad dream, but a strange one... he'd never dreamed of his comrade before. He sat up in his bed and ran his right hand through his hair, willing himself to calm down. He was no stranger to nightmares, but it'd been a few years since he'd had any. It was weird to experience all over again.

Just as Trunks let out a deep breath, his eyes shot wide in shock. He sensed the energy, the one from his dream... and it was exploding. It was climbing so fast, at this rate even he would have to worry. He stood in a hurry and started to get dressed, throwing his pants on followed by his shoes. Just as he finished pulling his shirt over his head and tucking it in, the energy stopped increasing. But where it settled was unbelievable. If his memory was accurate, the energy he sensed was greater than Cell just before he absorbed Android 18.

He paused for a moment to try and recall those memories, to validate his comparison, to try and be sure. Before he had a chance to really think about it, another energy exploded right next to this one, and this energy he knew all too well.

It was Armada's.

Trunks grabbed his jacket and sword and flew for the door of the ship. Armada was nowhere near that level of ability, she would be murdered in a matter of minutes. And if he was gauging the distance correctly, they felt like they were halfway around the Earth. He knew Bmyhad was a larger planet than Earth, but that distance... it would still take him a few minutes to get there.

Trunks pushed the button at the door of the ship to open it, when the reading next to the keypad flashed red with the words _Access Denied._ "What?!" Trunks questioned out loud. He tried punching in the few codes he knew to enter the ship and the building, but none worked. _Did she... __did she..._ he couldn't finish his thought as he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He would have to deal with the aftermath later, but right now if he didn't get out of this ship she was going to die. He charged a ki blast in his left hand and fired, disintegrating the door.

* * *

Armada never saw Corvus's first attack.

He had slammed his right forearm across her face, sending her flying backward through the exterior corner of the hotel and sprawling out into the street in between chunks of concrete and metal debris. She did see him when he followed her, and she scrambled back to get some distance between them when he appeared behind her and struck her down once more. Even just above the ground as they were, he was able to hit her with enough force to crack the concrete beneath them as she was slammed into the ground. Corvus then tried to stomp on her body, only to push through the street and the concrete collapsed, falling into the tunnels below. Corvus smiled to himself as he chased after her; she had managed to fly out of the way at the last possible moment.

Armada flew down a few blocks before taking off straight up into the sky. The sky was filled with water, and the typhoon pounding Temelt-Ran was no joke. She was trying to clear the city's skyscrapers so she could get a better handle on Corvus's movements. As soon as she was about to clear the roof of the building she was flying next to, Corvus appeared before her and launched himself at her feet first. The mercenary twisted her body to avoid his kick and swung back with a left hook aimed for his face. It connected, and he flew backwards and away from her.

Corvus landed on the top of the skyscraper they were exchanging blows next to, and Armada followed suit, keeping her distance from him. The top of the building was already flooded with three inches of water. The rain was coming down too fast for it to drain off of the building properly. The Rieve assassin smiled broadly at Armada as his upper lip started to swell, a small line of blood trickling down into his mouth.

"I think you're better than the reports indicated," he said, sounding jubilant. "But I think," he paused to swallow thickly, "that we need to skip the foreplay and get down to business." No sooner had the words rolled off of his mouth, he unleashed his energy. Armada narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back, betraying no emotion on her face. As his energy flickered around him in thick green waves, Armada clenched her teeth. He was much, much stronger than any opponent she had ever faced.

As his energy climbed, she clenched her fists. She wouldn't give up this easily. With a scream, she began to unleash her own energy. When she felt herself just barely reach that plateau of power, Corvus flew at her. Just as he had indicated, he showed no mercy. He threw a barrage of punches, most of which Armada was unable to block. She was forced backward, off of the roof of the building as she attempted to block his hits and put some room between them. Each time she backed up an inch, he moved into that space and made her pay for it. After just a few seconds and probably a few hundred hits, Corvus stopped punching long enough to reach back and kick Armada in the abdomen with his right foot.

When Corvus's foot hit her, Armada lost all the air in her lungs and her body was hurtled backward into a nearby building. She felt herself crash through several walls, though she was unsure of how many exactly. Corvus's speed and strength were dizzying. She could barely see his movements, and despite him releasing his energy, he still wasn't going after her as much as he could. And it was infuriating.

The mercenary forced herself to sit up through sheer will, as her body was already protesting in pain. Opening her eyes fully, she was able to see that Corvus had thrown her into what appeared to be an apartment building, as she now sat in the rubble of what once was someone's kitchen. Water spilled onto the floor from busted pipes, but it hardly mattered since with the torrential rain Armada was already soaked to the bone. As she struggled to get to her feet, Corvus appeared before her. She had no time to react when he reached down and picked her up by placing his right hand around her neck.

Corvus squeezed just enough to cut the airflow to Armada's lungs without breaking her windpipe. She instinctively reached up and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to breathe.

"You look relatively unharmed," Corvus spoke calmly. Water trickled down the right side of his face; his hair was now flattened against his head from the rain outside. Thunder struck out and it sounded distant, as if they were safe inside from the storm. Armada squeezed Corvus's arm tighter, and he smirked. "Clearly we need to do something about that," he said and threw her body into the air. He immediately pulled his left hand into his chest and stuck his elbow out above his head, then rammed it into Armada's abdomen as he pushed forward through the ceiling, driving her up.

She wasn't sure how far they had gone when they finally hit the roof of the building. As soon as she felt the cool rain pelting them again, she quickly charged a blast and fired at Corvus before flying backward away from him. Before the smoke cleared and before she even had time to take a breath, Corvus flew out from the debris and drilled Armada straight in the face with his right elbow.

Her vision went black from the force of the blow, but he was close enough she could sense his movements. He started throwing punches again, and Armada tried her best to block them. For each one she blocked, he landed three or four hits. He finally paused his attacks momentarily and reached forward to grab her forearms. Armada manged to pull away at the last second, and while he had her left arm in his grip, he missed grabbing her right arm.

Instead of countering with her free hand, she turned slightly and pulled back so she could reach his face with a hard right kick. Surprisingly she connected, and Corvus pushed back and away from her, releasing her in the process. Wasting no time, Armada turned and fled, trying to buy enough time for her vision to clear up. It wasn't enough, however, and Corvus appeared in front of her again.

He reached back and smacked Armada underneath her chin with his left forearm. She stumbled backward a bit, enough that he reached for her and spun her around, pulling her back to his chest with his right arm wrapped around her neck. She immediately tried to counter by elbowing him in the stomach with her left arm, but he caught her elbow with his left hand. "I don't think so," Corvus laughed in her left ear. "But," he continued, "you are a lot stronger than your old friend Dax. I'm surprised. I bet he would be too if he knew how thoroughly you could kick his ass now, given the chance," the hit-man finished with a smirk.

Armada's vision started to return as he let her go and proceeded to drive his left knee into the small of her back before he used both feet and planted them into her back, forcing her to go flying once more. This time, before crashing into the concrete exterior of yet another skyscraper, Armada was able to right herself in the air and slow down enough to plant her feet against the side of the building. She barely had time to bring her hands together in front of herself but she fired the strongest ki blast she could considering she had no time to charge.

Corvus merely swatted her energy blast out of way as if it were an annoying fly that wouldn't leave him alone. He flew straight at her, and instead of trying to run away, she planted her feet and waited for him. When he reached her and swung with a right hook for her face, Armada countered at the last second and moved slightly to the side so she could grab his outstretched arm with both hands. Using his momentum against him, she swung him around into the building behind them, forcing him through the wall. She held onto him as they burst into an office of some sort and charged her energy into her hands while still holding him. Corvus was confused, but before he could react she let go of his arm and released her energy point blank in his face. He had no time to dodge or deflect, so he took the attack head-on.

As soon as she landed the hit, Armada flew backward out of the building they had crashed into, and put some significant distance between the hit-man and herself. She floated in the sky as it thundered, rain pouring down her face, washing away some of the blood running from her nose and mouth. She knew that attack wouldn't severely hurt Corvus, so she waited; she needed to see what kind of damage she had done.

That was when she saw the hit-man step to the edge of the hole in the side of the building, before he jumped up into the sky and flew slowly toward her. Armada could feel the distinct, sickening feeling of panic trying to well up within her. She willed it back down, but it was impossible to ignore completely. As Corvus flew over to her, he didn't have a mark on him. It was finally starting to sink in to Armada, that if she couldn't keep up with his speed, and he was more powerful, so much so that a decent attack like that didn't leave a scratch... she wasn't going to make it out of this alive.

"You're pretty smart too," Corvus said as he slowly flew to her. Armada stayed where she was and kept her gaze fixed on him. Lightning struck nearby and lit up the sky like daylight for a few seconds. She heard Corvus start laughing through the thunder following the lightning. "Damn, I wish Ryan would have let me conscript you. I could have taught you so much," he said, sounding almost wistful. He stopped approaching her when he was about three meters away. The pair hovered in the air, the rain still coming down in sheets as they stared at one another. Corvus simply shook his head before he launched another assault.

This time Armada couldn't even react; he was so fast she could barely register his movements. As he pummeled her with punches, she felt her mouth fill up with blood and her mind wandered. It was too late; it was over. Rieve won. But she could die easy. She had taken precautions before she came here to face Corvus; she made sure she wouldn't be followed. It wasn't _his_ fight, anyway. She figured that he may wait around for her for a while, but eventually he would realize she wasn't coming back and would just leave. That would be for the best. He had already been dragged too far into this, a personal quarrel with the mafia known as Rieve.

Corvus continued his assault, but changed tactics. Now he would slam into her, with a fist, a knee, anything, and knock her away, only to appear behind her and volley her body once more. With each hit she felt her life slipping away. As the beating continued, she wondered if the same thing would have happened if she didn't take that job. She wondered if things would have played out similarly if she took the job but didn't bother to complete it, if she simply ran. But more than anything, as her vision started to fill with blood running down her forehead and into her eyes, she thought about the person she left behind to come here. And she was confused as to why his image filled her mind's eye as everything started to go black.

Corvus kicked Armada away from him one last time and didn't give chase. Her body landed on the roof of a skyscraper shorter than the others surrounding them and skidded a few meters until she finally rested with her back against the slightly elevated lip around the edges of the roof of the building. He flew over after her, and landed a few steps away. He took his time walking up to her, and she struggled to keep both eyes open to look at him. She didn't look too terribly beat up, until Corvus noticed all the blood mixing with several inches of standing water on the roof from the rain. Her black armor hid her injuries well.

The mobster stepped up next to her and placed his right foot across her throat. He could crush her throat, she would die, and her body would still be intact per his boss's orders. He almost felt bad. She took quite a beating from him, and he was able to really flex his power in the process. He hadn't been able to do that in several years. He let out a deep breath, and started to put more pressure down on her.

Before Corvus could finish off his mark, he had the distinct feeling of being hit by a train. As if he were unknowingly standing in the tracks and it smashed into him from behind. Because the force and strength of whatever hit him from behind and sent him hurtling through the building next to the one he was standing on, and then through the building behind that, made him think of a train. It was the best comparison he could come up with.

After slamming into the guy that had his foot on Armada's neck, Trunks let out a breath. She was still alive so he wasn't too late. He took a knee beside her, as her back was leaning against the edge of the building and it propped her up somewhat like she was sitting. It didn't take him long to realize she wasn't conscious. The heavy rain was washing everything away, but she was still leaving a significant trail of blood in the water. It made Trunks's stomach turn as it brought up bad memories of finding his old mentor and friend Gohan, bloody in the rain in much the same condition she was in now.

Just to be sure, he checked her pulse at her neck and listened close to her face to make sure she was still breathing. Both signs were positive, though understandably weak. One thing that bothered him was that she didn't have any burns or cuts on her, as if the fight was purely physical in nature. He didn't get long to think about it as he sensed her attacker heading his way.

Corvus stopped a few meters back from where Armada's body still lay, and hovered in the air. A small amount of blood ran down from a minor cut in his forehead. "What's this?" Corvus asked, still trying to catch his breath. The man who knelt beside her slowly stood before Corvus continued. "She got herself a little knight in shining armor, did she?" The man with long hair simply glared at Corvus, saying nothing. "Do you have any idea who she is?" Corvus spat, certainly unhappy with this turn of events.

Trunks stood unmoving as the man who had attacked Armada started speaking to him. He had nothing to say. This guy was powerful, sure, but his level of power was something Trunks had surpassed many years ago, during his time in another world. This man held no threat to him, but he still had the nearly unbearable urge to rip him limb from limb.

"Get out of the way," Corvus ground out angrily through clenched teeth. Lightning followed his pronouncement, as if the elements themselves were on his side in trying to intimidate Trunks. "Unless you want to be the next person to cross us and pay with your life."

Now Trunks thought it was an opportune time to speak. He needed to affirm his suspicions before he killed this man. "Cross who, exactly?" he asked as thunder rolled in the distance.

Corvus smirked. "The most powerful mafia in the galaxy, of course," he replied. Corvus felt himself coming back down to normal. No, it never helped him to fight angry. He needed to stay cool. "Rieve," he added, to clarify for this simpleton who clearly knew nothing of who he was and what he was capable of. Corvus didn't care who this guy was; he was going to die, then he would kill the mercenary and take her back to headquarters with him. But the fun part was, in killing the man who had inserted himself into this fight, Corvus wasn't restricted in the same way as he was with the mercenary Armada. Nobody would ever miss the man with the ridiculous hair, so Corvus could incinerate him with prejudice.

Trunks knew the answer before Corvus had even said it. He was with Rieve. Now that he really looked at it, the dark blue suit the man wore resembled the one he remembered seeing Dax wearing when he first met Armada. Maybe they actually had some kind of uniform. Which would be pretty bold, since they would essentially be advertising who they were to the authorities. Perhaps it didn't matter, and they were powerful enough that even law enforcement didn't bother with them.

None of that truly mattered right now. Rage bubbled up within Trunks, and he forced it back down. He could fight angry, but he preferred not to. And while he didn't care for Armada even one ounce the same as he cared for Gohan, seeing her in the same position as his teacher set off a fire within him he didn't know he had. He supposed he finally understood a conversation he'd had with his mother some time ago about the word 'triggering.'

Corvus wasted no time in making the first move. In a flash he was upon Trunks, throwing punches mixed with kicks as he attempted to hit the mercenary. Trunks was slightly shocked at Corvus's speed. He was faster than Trunks anticipated due to his power, but it would never be enough. Trunks effortlessly blocked all of Corvus's attacks without starting any counterattack of his own. He needed a moment to gauge how Corvus would react. After a few seconds, Trunks thought he had a handle on how Corvus moved. He stopped blocking to lift his left hand and catch Corvus's right fist.

The hit-man's eyes widened momentarily before Trunks struck back with a hard fist to his face, right across the bridge of his nose. Corvus tried to flee, but was unable to pull away from Trunks's grip on his right hand. The mercenary followed up with a crushing elbow to Corvus's chest, directly into his sternum. Air escaped Corvus's lungs in a rush, and Trunks let got of his fist. Before Corvus could flee, Trunks swung up with his right forearm, smacking Corvus under the chin and sending his head flying back. The demi-Saiyan finished with a powerful kick to Corvus's center which sent him hurtling through the air once more.

As soon as Corvus broke through steel and concrete once more from this mysterious defender, he righted himself in the air and landed on his feet on an office floor. He wiped the blood and water from his face as his vision cleared up. Whoever this guy was, he was _far_ stronger than the mercenary he came for. All information they had on her indicated she worked alone, and had done so for years. So who the hell was this guy? Realizing it didn't matter and he already knew what he had to do, Corvus steeled himself. He wouldn't let some nobody upstage him, especially not on a mission this important to his leader and friend.

Trunks waited patiently as he floated in the air, the rain having long soaked through every stitch of clothing he was wearing. His hair was stuck to his face, but he kept his eyes on the building he'd knocked Corvus into. He could sense the mobster and knew he was still alive, and he also knew that his hits wouldn't have incapacitated him that easily. So he waited, figuring his opponent was coming up with something to counterattack with. There was no need to chase him into a confined space, considering Trunks had the upper hand.

Suddenly Trunks felt Corvus's energy spike, and a bright green wave of ki shot out of the building, disintegrating a much larger area of the structure than the hole Corvus had created when he crashed into it. It wasn't a blast Trunks could block, so he dodged to the side, only to meet with Corvus's knee in his chest. He couldn't avoid the hit, but was able to move backward and regain his bearings before Corvus continued his assault. This time, his hits were faster and harder, and Trunks was mildly surprised. He thought the mobster had already unleashed the entirety of his power, but it appeared he had not. However, it still wouldn't be enough to best him.

Trunks decided he'd had enough of defense, so he started parrying Corvus's hits and filling the gaps with his own attacks. The mercenary used his energy to boost his speed, and Corvus could do nothing in response but take hit after hit. Much like the punishment he had doled out only minutes earlier to the mercenary he was after, Corvus was now on the receiving end. His mouth filled with blood and it ran from his nose, washed away by the rain. Knowing that he had to do something, Corvus patiently waited for an opening. And when Trunks stopped hitting him to charge an energy blast in his right hand, Corvus had found it.

Immediately he countered with his own blast, point blank. Trunks fired his in return to volley some of the energy away. He was surprised; he didn't sense Corvus charging a blast and the amount of energy he fired was troubling. Corvus kept pushing everything he had into it, and screamed as the beam doubled in size and intensity. When he couldn't fire anymore, Corvus flew back several dozen meters to get some distance between them.

Trunks emerged from the light of Corvus's attack completely unscathed and equally unfazed. While the hit-man's abilities had been surprising to Trunks, the gap in their power was so great it was impossible for Corvus to overcome it. The mafioso swallowed thickly; now he understood just how the tables had turned. He wouldn't be able to beat this guy head-on. No, but that didn't mean he would turn and run. He had a mission to complete. His pride was on the line.

An idea struck him, and Corvus disappeared. Trunks blinked in confusion for a moment before he sensed his enemy again, and the direction he was headed. Trunks's eyes widened in shock for a split second before he turned and flew after the Rieve assassin.

Corvus appeared above Armada and immediately fired an energy blast, hovering only five meters from her body. Trunks couldn't make it in time to deflect the blast, so he did the only thing he could—he fired a counter blast of his own to try and spare her body from being hit. The roof of the building exploded as their energies mixed, and Trunks lost track of Armada. He heard another crash, and turned to see yet another wound in another skyscraper. He immediately flew to the area, barely sensing her energy inside the building.

Just as Trunks appeared in front of Armada's unconscious body, Corvus did the same. This time, however, he had a sphere of white energy around his right fist. Trunks prepared to counter his attack only to have Corvus let loose the energy in front of his face. However, it wasn't the attack Trunks suspected. The energy dispersed as an intense light, so intense it blinded him. Corvus then went on the offensive, and Trunks found that the previous attack not only blinded him, but dulled his senses as well. He had trouble sensing Corvus's movements, and as a result took a smattering of blows as Corvus slowly pushed him backward. Each blow that Trunks tried to block or parry, he slightly missed, or connected but not enough to have an effect.

Trunks knew they were outside again when he felt the rain hit his face. That same rain now made things even more difficult. Disoriented as he was, raindrops only added to the confusion of trying to pick out his opponent's movements, something Corvus was probably counting on. Finally, with a blow that Trunks couldn't even discern what exactly it was, Corvus was able to send the mercenary flying. When Trunks felt himself hit a wall, he stopped himself from going through it, but before he could think he sensed energy headed his way. He flew up and into the sky, dodging smaller but still very powerful blasts.

As his enemy flew away, Corvus wasted no time getting to the task at hand. He wouldn't be able to escape with Armada, which meant the only thing he could do was kill her and flee. He hesitated for a moment; if he incinerated her there certainly wouldn't be any proof. If he couldn't take her body back with him though, he needed to make sure her death would be discovered. He reached down and grabbed the back of her head, his fist tangling into her hair at the base of her skull where her braid began. With a solid grip on her, he flew outside into the storm.

Once outside, Corvus looked down to the flooded streets below. With as much force as he could muster, he threw her body straight toward the asphalt below. She would hit with enough force to kill her, but to be sure he flew after her, planning to crush her bones and internal organs moments after impact by slamming into her. The force of both blows would be enough to finish it, and the corpse would be found by the locals once they returned to the city after the storm passed. Even if it wasn't on the local news, law enforcement would investigate and take pictures. Pictures which could be stolen via network hacking to substantiate Corvus's retelling of the events when he returned to base. It wasn't a perfect plan, but in the current circumstances it would do.

Trunks dodged the last of Corvus's energy blasts and fired one of his own, destroying it in the process. His vision and senses had started to return, when he looked down to see Corvus throw Armada toward the ground below. She was too far from him and moving too fast; the mobster took off after her and Trunks internally grimaced. He didn't want to use it, but he had no choice. He couldn't clear that distance in time without the use of that form.

Corvus was right behind the mercenary he was set to execute, and just as he expected her to impact mere moments before he did, she disappeared. He did however hit the ground with his feet, breaking through the street as chunks of concrete and steel fell into the subway system below. Before he could even turn his eyes up to see what happened, Corvus felt pain in his chest, just to the right of his sternum, almost exactly opposite to where his heart would be.

When he looked up he found himself staring into teal eyes and gold hair. Corvus's eyes widened in shock; just what the hell _was_ this guy?

Trunks twisted his sword in Corvus's chest, making sure it was embedded into the concrete of the building behind them. The mobster flinched at the pain, realizing he was pinned. He looked down at the sword that had been rammed through his chest, and the blood that poured down his clothes from the wound. It didn't look as bad as it was, with the heavy rain washing a lot of the blood away. But he knew it was over. This new strength his enemy showed off was simply terrifying. If there was a gap in their power before, it had since increased a hundred times over. And Corvus knew he had no chance of stopping this man now.

Corvus's eyes wandered back up to those of his enemy. "See you in hell," he said with a laugh. How strange it was, to come here on a mission that would be easy, only to run into a true demon in terms of strength and meet his own demise. He hoped Ryan wouldn't be too angry.

Trunks yanked his sword from the hit man's body, a stream of blood following it. With his free hand, he reached up and fired a ki blast, powerful to incinerate Corvus. After a few seconds, Trunks stopped firing and verified that Corvus was gone. His energy had completely disappeared. Pieces of debris fell from the crumbling area of the building Trunks had vaporized with Corvus.

The Super Saiyan stood in the rain for a few moments, letting out deep breaths as the rain poured down. The water washed most of the blood from his sword, and after a brief respite, he quickly sheathed his sword on his back once more. He turned and walked slowly over to his unconscious comrade. He had no time to set her down properly, only enough to stop her from crashing into the ground with the full force of Corvus's throw. As a result, all he could do was catch her to absorb the impact and immediately drop her a few meters away from where she was going to crash.

He bent down to pick her up, her head barely above the water rushing by. She wasn't dead, but she was closer to it than anyone ever wanted to be. Not wanting to waste any more time, once he had her secured in his grip, his left around around her back and his right arm hooked under her knees, he took off. He flew while keeping his transformation, because it would make the trip back much shorter than it had been on the way there.

* * *

All that Armada could think about was a terrifying, absolutely crushing aura she felt briefly. When Corvus had his foot on her throat and choked off her air, she figured she was done for. The next thing she remembered she sensed two energies dueling not far from her. She couldn't move, couldn't even open her eyes. That was when Corvus grabbed her by her hair and launched her. All she remembered after that was an aura, a power so intense it was impossible to breathe. Never in her life had she felt something so incredible, so literally awesome that even if she had been able to, she wouldn't have found voice within her lungs. She felt the heat of a blast, nearby, again from that same aura, so intense it was unbearable.

These thoughts played over and over in her head, as if she was stuck inside a dark void with nothing else to occupy her time. And no matter how she tried to rationalize it to herself, despite the different feeling that ki gave off, she knew who it belonged to. It still didn't make any sense to her, beyond giving her nightmares of Trunks choking the life from her with his incredible strength. A strength so vast she wondered why hadn't conquered half the known universe. There would be nothing stopping him.

Suddenly, her neck in his grip once more as he stared her down in her dreams, Armada felt the overwhelming urge to cough. And when she did cough, her eyes opened as her chest shook from the action. The first cough was followed by five more, before she managed to grab whatever was lying under her left hand and grasp it as tightly as she could. She willed her right hand to move, and it obeyed. Pushing her right hand back for support, and wanting to verify that the ceiling she stared at was the ceiling she thought it was, Armada forced herself to sit up.

She didn't expect to make it all the way up the first time she tried, but she did. She coughed a few more times and leaned forward, slowly rousing her legs to move as well. She noticed that she was stripped down to her underwear, still wearing her bandages over her abdomen from the nasty slice she had running down her side, sitting beneath a white sheet. A white sheet for a bed in the infirmary of her ship, where she was.

Before she could totally grasp the world around her, she sensed _his_ energy. It had now become a suffocating force for her, she couldn't _not _sense it; it would hang over her like a dark cloud of smoke, ready to choke the life out of her at the earliest opportunity. Still, she turned to her left to see him sitting in the same chair she had collapsed into only days prior, drinking to dull the pain of stitching herself up with electrical wire. His light blue eyes stared directly at her, and she didn't need to read the anger in his face. It was present in the room; his ki buzzed with fury, so much so that it made her head feel dull.

She expected him to say something, but Trunks stayed silent and only stared. Armada felt weak and dizzy; her head fell forward and she caught it with her right hand, her eyes diverting from his as she struggled to keep a grasp on reality.

"Why?" Trunks finally spoke, and Armada was surprised at his tone. He didn't sound angry at all. He sounded... hurt. Had she misread his ki?

She took a breath and lifted her head, turning to face him so she could meet his gaze with hers. "It wasn't your fight," she said lowly, her voice weak.

He knew she would say that. After all, she had given him that tea that made his senses dull so he wouldn't wake up upon immediately sensing her flying away. She had changed the passcode for the door to the ship, trying to lock him in. Clearly, she didn't want him interfering. But why? So she could go off and die? Trunks was wondering if he would ever understand her. Or worse, if she was even sane.

On the other hand, she didn't want him involved, which could indicate that she cared for his well being. He still had significant doubts that such a thing was possible, but it would explain why she chose the path she did. If she merely didn't want him to interfere, all she had to do was ask. Part of him wondered if she knew she was going off to her death to face the mobster. Otherwise, why the secrecy? Then again, very little of what she did made sense to him. Perhaps he was over-thinking this and she was merely insane. That hypothesis had a lot going for it as things stood.

"You're not alone," Trunks spoke again, trying to reason with her. "You don't have to do things by yourself." _You don't have to die for no reason_, he thought, choosing not to voice those particular words.

Armada turned her back to him; she didn't want to look at his eyes anymore. The same eyes she saw when she closed her eyes and he killed her in her dreams. After a few long seconds of silence, she finally spoke. "Get out," she said quietly and without the same angered tone she typically used.

Trunks knew she wouldn't suddenly open up and be reasonable, yet he still felt a tinge of disappointment. He did as asked, and left the infirmary. On his way back to his room, he grabbed a bottle of water to get a drink before he settled in to get some rest. He hadn't slept more than about four hours total over the last three days, after he had treated Armada and sat in that same chair, waiting for her to wake up. While he felt stupid for wasting his time worrying about her, he knew that given the same scenario again, he would have done exactly the same thing. Perhaps then he was the one losing his grip on sanity, not her.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you have time. :]


	10. Mission 06: Classified

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

* * *

It took a few agonizing seconds for Trunks to breathe. He almost thought time itself had stopped, with the way his body went numb and his lungs froze. Once he was able to breathe, he could focus his senses for a moment. As the pain started to roll in, lighting up his nerves throughout his entire body, he could begin trying to move. His vision was still completely black, but he was able to start moving his fingers. His left hand grabbed whatever it could, and his fingers wrapped around a few pieces of concrete rubble.

Suddenly his ability to sense ki came back to him, and he could track what was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that Armada was moving away from him. For a moment he was curious, but as she darted farther away he quickly realized what she was doing. _No..._ he thought in anguish as the reality of the situation sank in. She was leading _him _away, and Trunks knew what that meant. Armada wasn't strong enough to defeat him. But she was protecting him yet again, pulling the danger away even if they both knew what that meant.

If Trunks didn't get up in the next thirty seconds, she was going to die. And he would likely follow after her.

* * *

Illumination

Mission 06: [Classified]

* * *

[Approximately three days ago]

Armada gazed at the window to her left, and her eyes narrowed while her mind focused on other matters. She leaned back in her seat, watching as the private shuttle she was on docked with the space station in preparation for her to disembark. Her trip to LOKI and back had taken four days. Once she disembarked at this space station, there was only one more shuttle left to take to descend down to the surface of Bmyhad, and she would be back to the ship in a few hours. That was a problem, since she had not quite resolved the issues that had been bothering her through this entire trip.

There was no question in her mind that Trunks was far more powerful than her. She had suspected it for some time, but now knowing without any doubts, having felt that terrifying force herself, she couldn't ignore the issue. This one fact brought many problems to mind, the most pressing of which was the question of why. Why would he stay? He had the power to crush her in an instant. Why would he even go with her in the first place? Back when she had tracked him down to the lab in Ute, he could have ended things there. What was he planning? There had to be some reason for this. Maybe he was working with Dax. Although if he was allied with Dax, and by proxy Rieve, wouldn't he be assisting Rieve? How would he have fallen victim to Rieve's attack so easily? Why would he have _saved_ her from being killed by Corvus, and kill him in return? And if he was working with Dax and Rieve, why was he so naive about the universe as a whole? He was one hell of an actor.

The muscles in her jaw tightened. He was after her, he was after something she had, although she wasn't sure what. She didn't know why. And it was disconcerting to say the least. Dax had already taken her money, which was truly a pittance to Rieve. What else did she have? If he was sent to kill her, he could have done so a hundred times over. So why wait? Armada couldn't answer these questions, and for the first time in eight years, she was mystified as to what to do.

"Miss Solaris?"

Armada looked up to her right to see the single flight attendant on this shuttle standing in the aisle, looking to her. "We'll begin disembarking shortly," the elderly man said once she made eye contact with him. Armada nodded and he smiled at her before turning away to head back to the main cabin. She had chartered this private shuttle for just herself, but the company had included a flight attendant anyway. Not necessary in her mind, but she made no point to argue it.

She turned and looked out the window to her left once more. It wouldn't be long now before she returned to Ute.

* * *

Not even one full day after waking up from what Trunks supposed was a coma, Armada left. _I'm going to LOKI, I'll be back in four days._ That was all she said before she put on her armor and took off. He didn't say anything in response, didn't argue with her. Because what was the point? The only conclusion Trunks could come to was that she was insane. Why else would she be so damn determined to die for no decent reason?

He was confused, to put it mildly. Some of her actions made it seem like she was trying to protect him, to keep him from being involved. And others made it appear that she had a death wish. But why go to such extremes? Perhaps she thought she could have defeated that assassin from Rieve before she fought him and found out that she couldn't. But if she had any doubts, why keep him from going with her, from assisting her? While the thoughts still continued to plague him, Trunks tried to push them to the back of his mind. These were questions with no answers, and all they served to do was fill him with doubt.

As Trunks sat and ate his lunch in the lounge, watching some show on the network that reminded him of old martial arts movies he'd seen back on Earth, he heard a noise in the hangar. After hearing the noise and taking a moment to set down his utensils, he sensed Armada's ki. Curious as to what the noise was about, he got up and headed for the open door to the ship.

When Trunks reached the hole in the side of the ship that he had created by destroying the ship's door, he looked down below to see Armada carrying a large crate inside the hangar through the larger side door they used for the car. As Armada flew carrying a crate larger than their car, she finally noticed Trunks and looked up at him. She set the crate down, and proceeded to throw a small object at him.

Trunks had to lean out the open door slightly to catch the small black box she had thrown at him. "Hold on to that," she called up at him. "Don't lose it; it cost me half a million."

_Half a million beta?_ Trunks thought as he looked at the small plastic black box in his hand. It was a cube only about an inch and a half on each side. It reminded him of the old jewelry boxes his mother had at home. The idea that Armada had purchased _jewelry_ was almost as crazy as... well... as crazy as _her_. Perhaps that meant it wasn't such a crazy idea to think she wasted half a million beta on jewelry.

Trunks looked back down below to see Armada pulling the lid off of the metal crate she had carried inside. Curious as to what she was doing, he flew down to where she worked to get a closer look. He landed on the other side of the crate as she finished pushing the lid to the side where it rested upright against the longer side of the crate.

"What's that?" Trunks asked as he placed the small box she had given him in his right pants pocket.

"I have to replace the door to the ship," Armada said without looking at him as she continued to work. With the lid of the crate out of the way, she pulled some packing material aside to reveal a shiny metal door. It looked slightly different than the one Trunks had destroyed. Armada reached down and carefully lifted the door from the packing material around it. She hovered in the air slightly and set the door down, upright, leaning against the short side of the crate.

"What about the box?" Trunks asked, referring to the small black box she had handed over to him.

Armada moved around to the side of the crate and removed more packing material to reveal a metal box in the bottom of the crate. "It's a new ship identification scrambler," she said while lifting the box out of the crate. She set it on the edge of the crate and unlatched it before opening it. "Noran and Senator Ballasten scanned our ship. The specific algorithm for that chip has been compromised, so it needs replaced," she answered. She picked up several small pieces of metal out of the box that Trunks figured were the accessories for the door needed to install it.

With her hands full of small pieces, she turned to Trunks briefly before lifting the new door once more. "I'll install the door and then I'll install the chip, so hang on to it for a few minutes." With the door in her hands, she flew up to the side of the ship and set the door just inside the opening from the old door. Trunks flew up after her.

They worked together for thirty minutes to install the new door. Since he blew apart the old one, Armada had to open several of panels of the hull of the ship to remove all of the components of the old door. For a sliding door, the whole thing seemed a lot more complicated and involved. Then again, it had to seal the ship for flight into space. With a coordinated effort, they finished installing the door in half an hour and moved on to the bridge.

Armada knelt beneath the pilot's console in the bridge and opened a metal panel to expose the wiring beneath. Trunks knelt next to her, holding a small flashlight in his hand, positioned to help her see into the dark interior of the ship's components. Installing the new chip went quickly, all that she had to do was remove the old chip, put the new one in the same socket, and restart the ship's identification operating system. Once it was in, Armada sat in the pilot's seat while Trunks sat at the navigation console to her right. She wanted to check the ship's systems and run a quick diagnostic to make sure both the door and the new ID scrambler were functioning properly.

After rebooting several systems, Armada sat watching the diagnostic messages scroll down the main monitor in front of the pilot's chair in the bridge. Suddenly a new dialog window appeared and displayed the words _Incoming Transmisson. Decrypting signal..._

Armada watch the monitor for a second before her eyebrows came together in worry. "No," she said lowly as she started typing furiously at the console.

"What's up?" Trunks asked. Based on her tone in just that one word, it didn't sound good.

"These encryption keys are specific to the Republican government," Armada said, glancing between her keyboard and the monitor in front of her. "I can't stop the transmission, they've overridden the system!" she exclaimed, a mixture of worry and fury playing out in her words.

"The Republican government is trying to contact us?" Trunks surmised. This didn't sound good to him.

"And I don't want any part of it," Armada said lowly as she continued to try and stop the transmission. It was too late however, when an image finally appeared on the screen.

"_Good evening Armada,"_ a woman on the other side of the transmission spoke. She had brown hair that was tied back and away from her face, and dark brown eyes. She was wearing some kind of suit, although she had no wore no badge or symbol to indicate exactly who she was. _"I hope you're doing well."_

Armada glared at the woman on the other side of the screen. "I don't want anything to do with you."

The woman on the other end laughed and her eyes fell for a moment before she raised them again, a smile still on her face. _"I think we both know that you don't have a choice at this point."_ She paused a moment and typed something at her own console. As she did, a smaller window appeared superimposed on the current communications window. This one was a quarter of the size and sat down in the bottom-left corner.

"_Ten days ago, a top secret prototype of a weapon being developed by the Venetian government was stolen,"_ the mysterious woman continued speaking. At her words, a blueprint of what Trunks thought did indeed look like some kind of weapon appeared on the smaller screen. If he had to guess, it had the general shape and size of a rocket launcher. _"And you're going to get it back,"_ she added with a smile.

Armada continued glaring, but finally relented to participate in the conversation. "Who stole it?"

The woman smiled broadly, though it seemed strained. _"We have our theories as to who hired him, __but it was a mercenary by the name of Mikhail," _she said, and the image on the smaller screen changed to an image of a man that didn't appear to be much older than Trunks. _"We've tracked him __to an abandoned district of Virda City. He doesn't appear to be moving. The signal has stayed put for the past two days."_

"You're tracking him through the weapon," Armada said. Trunks supposed it should have been a question, but she didn't say it like it was one.

"_Yes,"_ the woman replied. _"I've uploaded a copy of the signal the device emits so that you can calibrate your equipment to track it." _She paused a moment before she spoke again. _"You must bring the weapon back. There will be no compensation if we do not receive the prototype."_

"How much are we talking about?" Armada asked.

"_Eight hundred fifty-thousand beta,"_ the woman responded plainly. _"We expect to hear from you within a week,"_ the woman added. _"Good luck." _ With that, the transmission cut off.

Armada sighed, and Trunks was surprised. He would have expected her to start screaming or punch something, not _sigh_. Was she feeling sick? "So what do we do?" Trunks asked, unsure if this meant they were taking the job or not.

"She was from the Venetian government," Armada said plainly without looking at Trunks. "If we refuse, we'll have them as an enemy." She paused a moment before turning to her right, her eyes catching Trunks's. "Venice is one of the founding nations of the Republic. It's also one of the most powerful countries in existence," she added. "We can't refuse."

"So we just need to go get this weapon back from a mercenary," Trunks replied, summarizing the situation. "Shouldn't be too hard, right?" One mercenary versus the two of them sounded like a walk in the park.

Armada opened the file the Venetian woman sent them. The mugshot of Mikhail appeared on the monitor in front of her. "It can't be that easy," Armada replied, staring at Mikhail's picture and the accompanying profile. "There's a reason they're not going after him." She paused a moment as she read the data in front of her. "Looks like he's an energy fighter, but the best estimates of his strength have him so low he should pose no threat to either of us, _or_ a proper Venetian strike team." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth screwed up a little bit before she sighed yet again. "There's something about this that they're not telling us."

Trunks thought for a moment before he spoke. "Why don't we just tell them we failed and never bother with it?"

Armada shook her head and kept her gaze on the data onscreen. "They must already have surveillance setup on him, even if it's only via satellite. They'll know if we don't even bother," she said, almost dejectedly.

"So what's this weapon?" Trunks asked. Perhaps that held the answer to the question of why Venice wanted them to go retrieve it.

Armada pulled up the weapon specs and read the file. "It doesn't say anything about what it does, just gives physical specifications so we can identify the weapon," she answered. "And a name," Armada added after a moment, "Project Nadol'tonne."

"Look up that word," Trunks interjected. A conversation floated up from his memory where he and his mother talked about project name conventions and the name of the Capsule Corporation project that produced the time machine. Maybe it wouldn't hold water for an alien empire, but if it did, perhaps the project name might reveal something about the nature of what this weapon was. He waited a few moments as Armada typed away at the console in front of her, when finally she paused on a screen and he watched as her eyes narrowed in concentration. "What is it?" he asked, knowing immediately that she'd found something.

"Nadol'tonne is an ancient Venetian god of the earth," she said slowly as she stared at the screen. "He was said to carry a giant hammer that he used to create earthquakes when he slammed it into the ground," she finished and looked to Trunks.

"You think this weapon can generate earthquakes?" Trunks asked as his eyebrows rode a little higher. Certainly such a thing wasn't possible. The energy released from an earthquake was massive, there was no way it could be contained in a weapon small enough to be carried by a single person.

"No," Armada shook her head slightly, "it's not possible." She glanced back at the image of the weapon on the monitor, "But whatever it does, we've got to be careful."

* * *

The trip to Virda took three days, and Trunks loathed every minute of it. Floating through space, unable to do anything but wait... it was frustrating. After they took off from Ute, Armada had disabled the ship's communication system. She had explained to Trunks that since the Venetian government had hacked it, the system was compromised. While it was run by a separate operating system and the infrastructure was isolated, they still ran the risk of a potential hack into the ship's other systems. After she had shut it down, she removed the components of the system. She said they'd replace them later, after they returned from this mission.

Her reticence for this mission was understandable, but still strange. He agreed that things didn't quite add up, but between the two of them, what did they truly have to fear? This wouldn't be a repeat of her fight against that white-haired Rieve assassin. She had been alone for that, until he caught up to her. This time they would be working together from the start. And Trunks understood that he was ridiculously powerful compared to most beings in the universe, and this was confirmed by the way she tiptoed around him after that debacle. It bothered him slightly, but perhaps she wouldn't be so quick to fight with him now that she knew he was far more powerful than she was.

When they approached the planet and began their descent, Armada explained that almost a hundred years ago, Virda was involved in a war with a member nation of LOKI. Virda City had fallen victim to a nuclear attack, and as a result a massive part of the city was destroyed. Those ruined remains were still cordoned off from the rest of the city due to radiation poisoning. It wouldn't harm them to enter the district to apprehend Mikhail, but if they were to live there, that would be a problem. Thus the government of Virda did not allow anyone to resettle the area. However, the derelict district was massive, and the health risks posed to those who would be forced to patrol it regularly to enforce the quarantine meant that it was mostly unsecured. Which made it an ideal place for criminals to temporarily hide.

Armada landed the ship within the living side of the metropolis, under an assumed name, and paid off the local hangar to keep things quiet. They headed for the quarantine zone on foot, and when they reached the border wall it was all too easy to sneak by local police and enter the district under the cover of night. Once inside, Trunks inwardly grimaced. This Virda City looked nothing like the high tech, clean and orderly metropolis they just left behind. No, it resembled the ruined West City during the height of the androids' reign. In some ways, it was worse, because he couldn't sense anything—not one living being in the area, and that emptiness stretched for _miles_. He wondered if this was what Earth would look like if he had failed and been killed by the androids. It made his stomach turn.

They walked through the ruined section of the city, following the signal emitted by the stolen weapon. Armada had programmed her phone to track it, and they were closing in. She stopped walking as they approached a skyscraper that was mostly still standing. She turned to look at Trunks, who followed behind her and off to her left a step or two. "The weapon's in the building," Armada said, motioning toward the derelict construct with her head. "Mikhail is likely with it. Keep your energy suppressed," she said lowly before walking toward the building while sliding her phone into place on her belt.

Trunks stepped lightly as he followed behind her. The streets were covered in a thin layer of what appeared to be ash, which helped muffle the sound of their footsteps. He didn't sense anything for miles, save his comrade, and it was unnerving. Even the abandoned cities of Earth held some life, from small animals that would seek shelter in the rubble. This place was like a dead zone, with no signs of life, no plants, no animals... nothing. If Mikhail was in that building with the weapon, he was completely hidden from Trunks's senses. Which while he wasn't sure how such a feat would be possible, he knew it couldn't be _im_possible. The universe was full of strange technology that both enabled and disabled ki. Who knew what else this mercenary had besides the Venetian military weapon?

The front doors to the building had long been gone. When Armada approached the threshold, she lifted her feet and floated into the air. Trunks did the same, and the pair both worked to keep their energies as low as possible. Trunks knew that Frieza's men were not trained to sense their enemies, as they relied on scouters to read ki levels. He couldn't assume that was the case for Mikhail, however it hardly mattered. He and Armada would be the only life forms around for miles. Surely the mercenary knew they were coming.

The path ahead was blocked with a lot of rubble, but the broken concrete didn't obstruct the hallway completely. A small gap was present at the left end of the hallway near the ceiling, however they would have to go through one at time. Armada flew through first, without a second thought. Trunks followed after her, although it was a tighter fit for him with his wide shoulders, and he bumped a few pieces of broken concrete loose. The small sounds generated by the falling debris seemed incredibly loud to Trunks as the noise echoed through the building. He was surprised at first, until he quickly realized that this area was silent—silent like death, which is exactly what this abandoned district represented. Death.

On the other side of the blocked hallway, Trunks found they were in what appeared to be a lobby for the building. He looked up and saw that the center of the building was cut away for several stories, and he could see far up into the building. Moonlight poured in through the windows, so while the building was dark it wasn't without any light. While taking in the surroundings, Trunks's head snapped back down when he sensed movement.

Armada must have sensed it too, because she tensed and drew her arms back, preparing for a fight. However, when Mikhail appeared, he struck at her quickly, so fast Trunks almost didn't see it. Armada couldn't block his attack, and took the brunt of a kick that pushed her to her left and into a concrete wall that crumbled under the force of her striking it.

It seemed like time stopped for a moment, as Trunks stared into Mikhail's golden eyes. The short dark brown hair, the stubble, and those golden eyes—they matched the portrait they were given all right. There was no doubt that they had found their target. Trunks prepared to move in for an attack, and Mikhail disappeared as quickly as he came. Only a flash of a moment after he disappeared did Trunks realize that he couldn't sense Mikhail. The demi-Saiyan didn't panic though; not sensing his opponent didn't mean he wasn't capable of beating him. Trunks's main adversaries for well over a decade were beings that emitted no sense of life energy. A sudden thought hit him; was Mikhail an android?

Mikhail took off, and Trunks followed. He was fast, but not fast enough to lose Trunks. Mikhail flew up, several stories up into the building. When he slowed momentarily, Trunks took the opportunity to attack. The mercenary thief was skilled, and was able to block a considerable amount of Trunks's attacks, while dodging others. Trunks wasn't worried though; he was testing Mikhail's abilities. So far, he found that his target was fairly skilled, and likely far more powerful than Armada. Compared to Trunks though, Mikhail had yet to present a serious threat. But things were just getting started.

The thief backed away from Trunks slightly, and the mercenary moved into the space he left behind, preparing to make Mikhail pay for it. Trunks lunged forward with a well-placed palm strike aimed at Mikhail's face, when the thief completely disappeared. Trunks's inertia kept him moving forward, and he blinked in shock. Mikhail had not moved, he had _disappeared_. Something strange was going on, and it worried Trunks slightly. He turned and looked down toward the direction of Armada's energy.

No sooner had he turned, her body flew backwards and up toward him, passing him without colliding by inches. She was bleeding from her nose as she flew past—no, she was _thrown_ past him. Her body slammed into a concrete wall a few stories above, and rubble fell down into the open center of the building. She quickly pushed herself out of the rubble and glanced down to Trunks. "Keep him busy!" Armada shouted to him, and he turned just in time to see Mikhail appear before him again.

Determined to not let him get away without figuring out just what that disappearing technique was, Trunks surged forward with more speed and force than last time. This time, he landed several punches to Mikhail's face and chest, though he took the hits well. Just as Mikhail tried the same maneuver as he did moments ago, Trunks lunged forward and grabbed Mikhail's dingy white shirt with his right hand. The thief's golden eyes widened slightly, and Trunks reached back with his left hand, preparing to plant a fist into the mercenary's face.

Before he could let his attack loose, Armada appeared behind Mikhail, her left arm wrapping around his neck as she reached toward his chest with her right. Trunks didn't notice until now, that Mikhail was wearing some kind of metal pendant. Armada reached for it, and once it was within her grasp she ripped the pendant and its chain from Mikhail's neck. She released her hold on his neck with her other hand, pushed back a meter or so and crushed the metal piece in her right fist into pieces.

As soon as the device was destroyed, Trunks felt a strange energy surge through the area from Armada's fist. Immediately he sensed Mikhail's energy, and he realized what Armada had done. Whatever that 'necklace' was, it as effectively masking Mikhail's ki. Now that Armada destroyed it, the thief's energy was detectable, and he certainly was no android with the amount of energy he was emitting. With Mikhail's shirt still in his grasp, Trunks pressed forward with his attack, and threw his left fist toward his enemy's face.

Mikhail blocked the attack with his right forearm, and used the inertia from Trunks's attack to spin backward to his left and away from his attacker. His shirt ripped and Trunks was left holding a handful of cloth as Mikhail turned and attempted to plant his left elbow into Armada's face. She caught his attack with her hands and countered with a right knee into the side of his ribcage. Her attack connected, and Mikhail charged a ki blast in his right hand in retaliation. Both Armada and Trunks immediately backed away, and Mikhail fired at Armada, just barely missing his target. His attack destroyed a large chunk of the building behind her and several floors above, as he aimed slightly up.

Trunks stopped himself in the air several meters away from where Mikhail had fired that blast, and the building rumbled and shook from the thief-mercenary's attack. The demi-Saiyan figured that a hundred year old ruined skyscraper in a city destroyed by a nuclear bomb was probably already unstable, and energy attacks that large certainly weren't helping any. He looked up and saw Armada had moved farther up into the structure after that last attack, and their eyes met briefly.

Mikhail had taken the opportunity to disappear during his previous assault, which wasn't really meant to do any damage. He wasn't gone long though, and just as Trunks thought he sensed Mikhail much farther up into the building, he appeared in front of Trunks not even two meters away. After seeing him appear, Trunks knew he had seen that kind of teleportation technique before. However he had no time to think on it, as Mikhail already has an energy blast charged in his hands. He fired, and with no time to flee Trunks could only return fire to deflect Mikhai's attack.

Armada flew in to take a swipe at Mikhail as he fired upon Trunks, but he was prepared for her attack. He turned and parried her punch with his left forearm and slammed the heel of his right hand upward, connecting with the bottom of her chin. Her head was pushed up, so she struck out at him with her right knee. He pulled back and caught her knee in his hands, then used his momentum to turn and throw her away from him. Armada righted herself in the air but Mikhail immediately began firing small energy blasts at her. She flew down toward the floor of the building while barely dodging his attacks.

Taking the opportunity presented by Mikhail's focus on his comrade, Trunks launched another attack. Mikhail's eyes darted over to meet Trunks's just before he disappeared again. Trunks stopped in midair where the thief disappeared and focused on finding his ki. He was now _certain_ that what he saw was similar to Goku's instantaneous movement, if not the same thing. The problem was that Mikhail seemed to be able to employ it much faster than Goku, and in succession without missing a beat. Growing tired of this game, Trunks immediately powered up and transformed. Mikhail could teleport but he hadn't gone very far, so maybe Trunks could just use pure speed to keep up with him. When he sensed Mikahil several floors above, he took off after him.

Armada dodged the last of Mikhail's barrage of small but powerful ki blasts when she felt a sudden overwhelming energy explode. Her head snapped up just in time to see Trunks with a golden aura, his hair turned the same shade of gold as it floated up around him. She immediately faltered, and felt her stomach leap into her throat. _This _was the energy she had sensed, but now to see it... it was something else. She'd never heard of such a feat; it was impossible. Or so she had thought until she had felt it, and now she had _seen_ it with her own eyes.

When Trunks cornered Mikhail higher in the building, he finally made an attempt at a defense. Trunks reached for him and Mikhail's hands met his, and they grappled. "_Dasra von'te!_" Mikhail screamed as his own energy unleashed and skyrocketed. It was clear to Trunks that this might be a challenge for him, and that Armada stood no chance one-on-one with the thief. He would have to handle this, and that was fine with him.

That was when Mikhail surged forward, trying to headbutt Trunks. Trunks backed up to avoid the hit, and Mikhail fled once more. Armada flew up toward her comrade, stopping where Mikhail disappeared from again. Trunks caught her eyes for a moment before she turned away. He didn't get time to think about it when Mikhail appeared before them again but almost instantly disappeared. He continued appearing and disappearing in rapid succession around them. Trunks charged a ki blast in his right hand, waiting for the moment to strike.

As soon as Trunks thought he had him, Mikhail appeared from nothing again, this time with a large weapon that looked like a rocket launcher in his hands. Trunks's eyes widened as he realized that was the weapon they were here for, but there was no time to move. Mikhail fired it almost instantaneously when he appeared in front of Trunks, and the demi-Saiyan couldn't dodge it. A wave passed through the air, passed through Trunks, and the walls behind him. He didn't feel anything when it happened, it was like his body just went numb and his eyesight went black. He didn't even feel himself falling as he collapsed to the ground several stories below.

Armada's eyes widened in shock as she watched the scene play out in front of her. She watched as his eyes rolled back into his head, and his hair faded from its golden hue back to normal. After Trunks's body fell, she saw the perfectly circular hole in the walls behind him and the cloud of dust in the air. _Is that... some kind of sonic device?_ Armada thought in a panic. It had literally disintegrated the environment around Trunks. How could someone live through that?

"Trunks!" she shouted as she snapped out of her thoughts. She made a move to fly toward him and catch him before he hit the ground, but she was stopped by Mikhail's left elbow smashing into her face. She stumbled back for a moment, a small trail of blood already running from her nose. Before she had a chance to put up a defense, Mikhail descended upon her. She lost track of how many hits she took in the ensuing onslaught, but it didn't matter. She could sense Mikhail's energy clearly, and despite what she had seen she could also sense that Trunks was not dead. If he was going to have any chance at getting out alive, she had to get Mikhail away from him... no matter the cost.

* * *

It took a few agonizing seconds for Trunks to breathe. He almost thought time itself had stopped, with the way his body went numb and his lungs frozen. Once he was able to breathe, he could focus his senses for a moment. As the pain started to roll in, lighting up his nerves throughout his entire body, he could begin trying to move. His vision was still completely black, but he was able to start moving his fingers. His left hand grabbed whatever it could, and his fingers wrapped around a few pieces of concrete rubble.

Suddenly his ability to sense ki came back to him, and he could track what was going on. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that Armada was moving away from him. For a moment he was curious, but as she darted farther away he quickly realized what she was doing. _No..._ he thought in anguish as the reality of the situation sank in. She was leading _him _away, and Trunks knew what that meant. Armada wasn't strong enough to defeat him. But she was protecting him yet again, pulling the danger away even if they both knew what that meant.

If Trunks didn't get up in the next thirty seconds, she was going to die. And he would likely follow after her. _No...!_ he screamed inside his head once more. He had to get up, he _had _to. There was no time; it felt like they had already left the building, Armada flying away with Mikhail chasing her. He focused for a moment, and after what felt like reaching for something with all his might to only touch it with his fingertips, he finally found his ki once more.

* * *

Mikhail unleashed another barrage of ki blasts at her, and Armada did all she could to avoid them. A volley of small but powerful blasts was difficult to navigate on its own, but Mikhail could redirect his energy after firing it, which made it even harder. She moved to avoid one that exploded to her left when it hit the concrete wall of the building they were in, but she couldn't escape the blast that hit her square in the middle of her back. It exploded and forced her down toward the ground, where she landed in a bunch of decrepit debris which created a cloud of dust from her collision.

She clenched her teeth as she pushed herself up off of the ground. Blood ran down her face from a gash on the top of her head. She was hurt, but nothing serious yet. Was Mikhail toying with her? What would be the point? When she managed to rise to her feet, she turned to look for him above. They had moved away from Trunks and were in a different building now, what appeared to be the remains of an office highrise. Several floors were broken away, and from where she stood Armada could see up into a few floors above. Suddenly Mikhail appeared in one of the floors above her, but before she had a chance to react a beam of ki came flying into the building and enveloped Mikhail in a blinding light.

Or she thought he'd been hit by the attack, but he appeared a meter in front of her with an attack of his own charged in both of his hands. Just as he went to fire, another blast shot into the building and this one _did_ make contact with Mikhail. The energy in his hands mixed with that which was fired at him and exploded, sending both Armada and Mikhail flying apart.

Mikhail crashed through at least one wall before he was able to recover and right himself in the air. Trunks appeared in front of him, transformed, and started throwing punches. Mikhail couldn't get away, and took a barrage of hits. Blood started running from his mouth, and Trunks stopped hitting him for a moment to charge energy in his right hand. Mikhail took the split second opening he was given to disappear, and Trunks's blast only served to incinerate several floors of the rundown building behind his enemy.

Trunks's chest heaved as he tried to focus his senses on where Mikhail ran off too. His body felt like it was on fire, and both his vision and his thoughts felt cloudy. He could sense Armada somewhere nearby, though he couldn't tell exactly where she was. Mikhail had dropped off of his radar again. Where was he going? Was he teleporting long distances and then coming back again?

Sitting up slowly, Armada winced as she put her right hand to the back of her head. That explosion had sent her hurtling through the office building and into the street where she was now. She looked at her right hand as she got up to one knee to see blood, as she suspected. She finally stood upright, pushing away the remnants of the car that had stopped her motion, and took a look at around. She thought she'd just been tossed into the street from the explosion that resulted from Trunks's attack, but she quickly realized she was wrong. She found herself several blocks away, dust hanging in the sky as far as she could see.

She took off back toward Trunks, figuring Mikhail would be nearby though she didn't sense him _again._ The Lacus device he was wearing had been tuned to his energy signature to mask it, but she'd already destroyed that. She found it hard to believe he would have another. A moment later, she had found her way back to where she was initially, and the building looked like it was ready to collapse. Trunks was floating much higher up into the building than where she had been, and he was in _that state_. His aura was downright suffocating, but she didn't have time to worry about that now. They had a job to do.

That was when Mikhail reappeared once more, halfway between the two mercenaries but off to Armada's left. Trunks was facing away from both his comrade and the thief, and Mikahil had that weapon in his hands, aimed at the demi-Saiyan. Despite the enormity of his energy, Armada could sense that Trunks's ki was erratic—he was injured, and it was pretty serious. If he took another blast from that weapon, he may not get up again.

Armada flew at Mikhail as fast as she could, and apparently he hadn't noticed her when he arrived. He turned to face her, his eyes widening slightly. At the same time, Trunks had caught wind of what was happening, and turned toward the pair. Mikhail tried to dodge Armada's attack, but he predicted her behavior incorrectly. She reached for the weapon, not him, and managed to get her left hand around the long barrel near the end. Mikhail yanked backward from her, and fired.

Trunks's eyes widened in shock. He would have been in the path of that blast, unable to move out of the way in time had his partner not attacked Mikhail. Instead, Armada's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground like a stone. He took off toward Mikhail, who aimed at Trunks and pulled the trigger. Instead of firing, the weapon sparked and jammed. Mikhail threw it to the ground but not before Trunks was able to hit the thief with his right fist.

Mikhail's power spiked but it was still nothing compared to Trunks, even severely injured. After taking a flurry of hits, Mikhail made a quick move and was able to catch Trunks's left hand on his right. Without missing a beat, Trunks reached up with his right hand and drew his sword. In a flash, he sliced into the inside of Mikhail's right forearm, almost severing the limb. Mikhail hissed and flew backward, his left hand immediately moving to cover the wound on his other arm.

He continued flying backwards, quickly running out of space in the building. Sensing that Mikhail was going to run again, Trunks surged forward and thrust his sword into the thief's left shoulder. Mikhail cried out and the world around them swirled into a mash of colors. Trunks felt disorientated, and a moment later everything came back into view and they were high in the sky above the ruined section of Virda City below.

The thief glared at the mercenary with a pained face. Holding his sword steady in Mikhail's shoulder to keep him from fleeing, Trunks used his left hand to fire a ki blast point blank in the thief's chest. With a sizable hole in his chest, Mikhail's eyes dulled, and Trunks pulled his sword loose. The thief's body fell, and Trunks only watched for a moment before his attention was diverted elsewhere. Helicopters with sirens blaring were headed his direction. He figured that they must have set off energy sensors with their fight. Armada had previously explained that most advanced nations like Bmyhad and Virda could at least track energy usage even if they had no plan to deal with it. Virda police were headed his way, so it was time to leave.

A moment later he was back in the office building they had left behind. He quickly found the Venetian weapon, but he had a harder time locating Armada. He'd powered down from super Saiyan, and was really starting to feel the ache from whatever that weapon had shot him with. Nothing hit him directly, so it wasn't like a traditional weapon. He figured it must have been some type of sonic device, and whatever it was put him in so much pain it was hard to focus. After searching for a minute, he finally found his comrade.

She was unconscious and barely breathing. He knew his injuries were bad, but he never considered she would be much worse. Then again, he carried a genetic healing factor thanks to his father; he had no way of knowing if she possessed such a thing. It seemed like she didn't. Regardless, he had to get them out of Virda as soon as possible. He hefted her body up and slung her over his right shoulder so his left hand would be free to carry the weapon. What would be the point in coming so far to leave it now?

Within a few minutes he'd avoided the authorities and made it back to the ship. Once inside he dropped the weapon in the hallway and immediately flew to the infirmary with his comrade in tow. He set her down in one of the beds in the infirmary and paused for a moment. His head swam and he swayed on his feet. Trunks grabbed the edge of the bed to stabilize himself. When he had control of himself again, he started to panic. The whole way back he'd been focused on getting to the ship, now that he stood next to his partner he realized her ki was flickering and extremely low, and it wasn't being suppressed. Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face; if he didn't get her medical treatment soon, she would die.

He floated back to the bridge and sat down in the pilot's seat. His head still felt foggy, and he couldn't concentrate. He looked up at the main monitor, but he had no idea where to begin. She'd never shown him how to fly the ship. He tried to navigate the menus to find something of use, but to no avail. Panic rose up from his stomach and he felt sick. Trunks grabbed his hair at the scalp with his left hand and squeezed in frustration. What was he going to do? He didn't know how to fly the ship and Armada was dying. They were in Virda City, on another planet a significant distance from Bmyhad, and he had no idea where he could take her for treatment. Even if he managed to get the ship moving, it had taken them three days to get to Virda, and he was certain she didn't have three days to wait.

_No...!_ Trunks thought in anguish as he hunched over the pilot's console in the bridge of the ship. He willed himself to think, to come up with a way out of this. But as the seconds ticked by, hope slowly slipped away from him.

* * *

Thanks for reading! My apologies for the cliffhanger, but sometimes you just have to cut things off before you move on to the next part. :]

**DarkVoid116** and **Son Goshen** – omg you guys. ;~; Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews, it's so encouraging to know somebody is reading and liking this enough to look forward to updates. I hope I can live up to your expectations!

* heart *

Silvia


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