"No can do, Bulma. I'm swamped. Unless..."
Luther let the sentence hang in the air, leaning back against the lab counter. He crossed his arms, letting his biceps flex just enough to be noticeable. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was shamelessly manipulative, weaponizing his looks to motivate a teenager, but hey—this was business.
Bulma, currently rocking a tube top and oversized cargo pants, puffed out her cheeks. She was young, brilliant, and used to getting whatever she wanted. And right now, she wanted a date with the mysterious, handsome scientist who had infiltrated her dad's lab.
"Unless what?" she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Unless you can help me crack a problem I've been stuck on." Luther reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of the purple Ultra Divine Water. "I found a substance. It triggers a massive biological evolution—unlocks latent potential. The problem is, it has a fatality rate of about 99.9%."
Bulma frowned, stepping closer. "So... it's poison."
"It's liquid death," Luther corrected. "I need to optimize it. Strip out the toxicity, keep the potency. Or at least, make it survivable for a normal human."
Bulma bit her lip. "Luther, I'm a mechanical engineer. I build bikes, radar, and energy reactors. I don't do biology. That's squishy stuff."
"I figured," Luther sighed, feigning disappointment. He put the vial back in his pocket. "It's probably too advanced anyway. It's fine, Bulma. Why don't you go find Yamcha or something? I'll figure this out eventually."
The trap snapped shut.
Bulma's eyes blazed. To her, this wasn't just a rejection; it was a challenge. And Bulma Briefs never backed down from a challenge. Especially not when the prize was the attention of the hottest guy she'd ever met.
"Give me that," she snapped, snatching the vial from his hand. "I'll have it analyzed and fixed before you can finish your coffee. And when I do, you owe me. Big time."
She spun on her heel and marched out of the lab, her blue hair whipping behind her.
Luther watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hook, line, and sinker."
Once she was gone, Luther returned to his own station.
He wasn't putting all his eggs in Bulma's basket. She was a genius, sure, but in the original timeline, she never mass-produced Senzu Beans or synthesized super-steroids for the Z-Fighters. Her brain was wired for machines, not enzymes.
"If she fails, I'll do it myself," Luther thought.
He pulled up his schematics for the Capsule technology.
Dr. Brief thought Luther was just studying the preservation fields, but Luther had already cracked the source code. He understood the spatial compression algorithms better than Brief did at this point.
He wasn't planning on becoming the "Capsule King" of the Marvel Universe. Introducing this level of tech back home would crash the global economy and put a massive target on his back. Stark, Richards, Doom—they'd all come running.
No, this was for logistics.
"I need to act as a mule," Luther mused. "If I can create high-density micro-capsules, I can smuggle the good stuff."
He made a mental shopping list.
Senzu Beans: Obviously.
Ultra Divine Water: The raw stuff for himself, the diluted stuff for his soldiers.
Gravity Chamber Tech: To train his army (and himself).
The Tree of Might: That was the long shot. If he could use the Dragon Balls to locate a seed of the Tree of Might... planting that in a barren corner of the Marvel Universe could yield fruit that granted godlike power.
"Dragon Ball is a candy store," Luther whispered, typing a command into the console. "And I'm taking the whole inventory."
He spent the next three days in a fugue state of work. He purified a sample of the Divine Water for his own consumption—trying to isolate the specific protein that triggered the "Doomsday" adaptation without the bone-spurs-and-madness side effect.
Then, the lab door hissed open.
Bulma walked in. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, hair messy, coffee stain on her shirt—but she was grinning like a shark.
"Done," she announced, slamming a beaker onto Luther's desk.
The liquid inside wasn't purple anymore. It was a vibrant, deep red, like oxygenated blood.
"What is this?" Luther asked, picking it up.
"I call it the Briefs-1 Serum," she said, leaning against the desk and trying to look cool despite her fatigue. "I analyzed the toxin. It attacks the nervous system to force a reboot. I synthesized a buffering agent that protects the neural pathways while allowing the mutagenic properties to do their thing."
She pointed a finger at him. "Fatality rate dropped by 50%. I tested it on some lab rats. They didn't die. In fact, one of them bit through a steel cage bar and bench-pressed his water bottle."
Luther looked at the red liquid, genuinely impressed.
50% fatality was still high for a commercial product, but for a black-market super-soldier serum? It was a breakthrough. And for his own personal use? It was perfect.
"How did you even find this stuff, Luther?" Bulma asked, her curiosity piqued. "The chemical composition doesn't match anything on the periodic table."
"Treasure hunting in the mountains," Luther lied smoothly. "Found an old shrine."
He moved to store the sample in a stasis field, but Bulma slammed her hand down on the scanner.
"Ah-ah-ah," she wagged her finger. "You promised."
Luther paused. He looked at the serum, then at Bulma.
"Fair is fair," he admitted. "What do you want, Bulma? Dinner? A movie?"
"Amusement park," she declared instantly. "And not just any park. The Capsule World theme park. And you're paying."
Luther chuckled. "Fine. Let's go."
Capsule World Theme Park.
It was ridiculous. Of course, the Briefs family owned their own theme park. It was a sprawling neon wonderland filled with rides that utilized anti-gravity tech and holographic displays.
Luther, a man who could fly into orbit and punch asteroids, found the roller coasters underwhelming.
"Faster! Go faster!" Bulma screamed, throwing her hands up as the coaster did a triple corkscrew.
Luther sat next to her, looking mild-mannered, his hair barely moving in the wind. He was more focused on analyzing the structural integrity of the track than the thrill.
But he played the part. He bought her the giant cotton candy. He won her the stuffed dinosaur at the rigged carnival game (using microscopic vision to see exactly how the pins were weighted). He let her drag him into the Haunted Mansion, where she predictably clung to his arm every time a fake ghost popped out.
"You're not scared at all, are you?" Bulma pouted as they exited the ride into the twilight.
"I have a high tolerance for fear," Luther said, adjusting his jacket.
They stopped near the central fountain. The park lights were coming on, painting everything in shades of pink and purple.
Bulma looked up at him. The day of fun had washed away her exhaustion. She looked happy.
"You know," she said, scuffing her shoe on the pavement. "Most guys are intimidated by me. Or they just want my dad's money."
"I have my own money," Luther said. "And you're not scary. You're just... efficient."
Bulma laughed. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down.
Before Luther could react—not that he really tried to stop her—she planted a kiss right on his lips.
It wasn't a shy, tentative peck. It was confident.
She pulled back, cheeks flushed, grinning triumphantly.
"Consider your debt paid, Luther," she said. "For now."
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