Rough iron chains bit into his wrists; the damp, rusty air bored into his nose. Leon Ragnell snapped his eyes open. Overhead, the mottled rock ceiling of a cave; a few dim oil lamps hung from the stone, stretching every shadow into something twisted and feral.
"Ugh…"
He tried to move his fingers and realized not only were his wrists bound behind his back, his ankles were lashed tight to a stone pillar.
This wasn't anywhere he recognized.
He remembered—he was supposed to be in the world of Dragon Ball.
He had crossed over into Dragon Ball.
Twenty years in total.
Unfortunately, he was just an ordinary Earthling.
No secret Saiyan lineage, no "the Emperor of the Universe is my big brother" nonsense—just a regular human being.
If Earth blew up a few times, he was done for.
But he did have one identity:
He was Dr. Gero's assistant.
Whatever else people said, Gero was the genius scientist who built Android 17 and Android 18, and even engineered Cell.
Leon started at Gero's side as a junior assistant, quietly learning and pilfering everything he could from the old man's research.
He successfully collected Saiyan cells, Piccolo's cells, and Frieza's cells.
Working from Gero's designs, he helped perfect 17 and 18.
But that old ghoul tried to "take the opportunity" to convert him into an android as well. Leon faked his death, slipped away, and continued the research using Gero's tech.
He even risked his neck during Buu vs. Vegito, managing to secure Majin Buu's cells.
Risky? That's putting it mildly.
Buu could resurrect from a single living cell, but when the Spirit Bomb finally erased Buu, Leon succeeded in wiping the remnants of Buu's will from what he'd taken.
Truth be told, he could've fused all those harvested cells into his own body long ago.
But doing that then would've torn his body apart—and at best he'd have ended up a Cell-like monstrosity.
He wanted to remain human.
So he kept researching. For years.
At last, Leon fully integrated Buu, Frieza, Piccolo, and every stitch of Dr. Gero's technology, injecting the perfected system into himself—becoming the most complete "android" the Dragon Ball world had ever seen.
There was just one not-so-small snag:
He had to start training from scratch.
A total battle weakling—he'd have to build himself up from zero.
Even so, it was enough.
He remembered his last "class" in the Dragon Ball world: Battle of Gods.
Beerus versus Super Saiyan God.
And Leon, skimming the edge of catastrophe, stole the faintest wisp of godly ki.
Then—
An energy blast came screaming straight at him.
You've got to be kidding—
He'd tested his combat power back then. Barely over a thousand.
With that kind of power…
Block that blast?
And then…
He woke up here?
A needle-prickle pain riddled his entire body—the blast was still eating him apart at a cellular level.
It hurt. It hurt so much he almost laughed.
"Talk! Who sent you?!"
A harsh voice mangling English barked beside him, and a rifle-butt club smashed down on his head.
Didn't hurt.
Compared to the energy blast tearing him up from the inside, this was nothing.
Meanwhile, Buu's cells had kicked in, knitting his injuries back together.
Leon turned his head and saw several masked men in black tactical gear surrounding a man strapped to a metal frame.
The man's oil-stained shirt clung to him; stubble shadowed his jaw. His eyes blazed with defiance—chained as he was, there was nothing submissive about him.
Then Leon saw the battery hanging from the man's chest.
His pupils shrank. Tony Stark?!
How was he here?
Wait—cave, terrorists, a kidnapped Tony Stark, a car battery rig on his chest… Put all that together and it's the opening of Iron Man, isn't it?!
"I already told you," Tony said, wiping grime from his face with his sleeve, tone dripping sarcasm. "You want me to build you a missile? Not happening. If you fly me back to New York, though, I might sketch a reactor that can heat your coffee—because drinking it cold in this hellhole is torture."
"Shut up!" the leader snapped, shoving a rifle in Tony's face. "Try tricks again, I shoot you now!"
Pretty sure that wasn't in the movie… Leon thought.
Then the terrorists gave Stark a nice little helping of "persuasion."
Stark started to beg.
Right then, one of the gunmen swung his muzzle toward Leon. "Mr. Stark, we sincerely hope you'll cooperate. Otherwise, this man dies in front of you."
"…Seriously?" Leon blinked. "What the hell does that have to do with me?"
Beep—beep.
An internal scouter flickered to life in Leon's eyes.
It could read up to two hundred million in combat power.
Mostly he used it to check himself.
After integrating all those cells, his base combat power was one thousand.
No—one thousand two.
That earlier blast hadn't killed him. And according to Saiyan biology, near-death spikes your combat power. But because Buu's regeneration kept him from truly crashing, the increase hadn't come fast.
Current power level: 5.
Complete weakling.
Leon tugged the corner of his mouth into a cold smile, then, under a dozen stunned stares, flexed his arms—
and ripped the iron chains binding him apart.
Tony froze.
The terrorists froze.
Leon spread the five fingers of his right hand, palm aimed at the nearest gunman.
"You're dead!"
Enraged, the gunman fired.
Tony flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. He was sure this stranger was done. These terrorists were ruthless—this guy was finished—
Except…
The expected thud of bullets punching into flesh never came.
Tony gaped.
Because a spray of bullets was hanging motionless in midair.
It was… wrong. Utterly, impossibly wrong.
(End of Chapter)
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