Prologue

I remember dying. Going out with a whimper, not a bang, as Pneumonia went untreated until it was too late thanks to my being stubborn. I’d insisted on going out in the cold without a hat on, and then, when I’d gotten sick, I had insisted on continuing to go to work and push on ahead with life instead of resting. I’d needed the extra money, but the shift I’d worked had worsened things and by the time I’d gotten home, I could barely stumble into bed, where I’d laid for three days, slowly getting weaker and weaker.

As I lay there in my bedroom, dying and struggling to breathe, I remembered thinking that if I could have only had another shot at things, I probably wouldn’t have pushed myself to go to work while sick with what was clearly pneumonia. I’d cursed myself for being stubborn, cursed the gods for the situation, cursed the whole universe. I then switched to begging any deity or being that could grant me a new life for a favor. In my feverish mind, on my deathbed, my normal atheism went right out the window, it seemed. Then, of course, I’d died and there was no one left to curse for my situation or beg for another shot. At least, so I thought.

As my eyes shut for a final time, I remembered hearing a voice. Dry, clearly female, and with an accent that put me in mind of China or Japan. I was too out of it to really tell at the time. It hadn’t been alone either, with another voice, likewise dry, though male this time, with an accent that sounded Greek or Turkish to my ears. Of course, I didn’t have ears as a dead man, which was confusing, but my awareness was still vaguely around, even though I had just bit the dust. I couldn’t see anything, of course, as I didn’t exactly have eyes, but I was aware of two people speaking, at least.

“Don’t curse us for your stubbornness.” Scoffed the Female Voice.

“Though he did switch to begging for another life. Perhaps we could grant him one?” Questioned the Male Voice.

“He might throw that one away as well.” Cautioned the Female Voice.

“I doubt it, where I am thinking of sending him, he’ll have plenty of reasons not to.” Retorted the Male Voice.

“I’m still not sure.” Mused the Female Voice.

“Come now, aren’t you in charge of one of the wheels of reincarnation? Surely you wouldn’t think of denying a poor supplicant’s last request for reincarnation?” Queried the Male Voice.

“This wouldn’t be a standard reincarnation and you know it. He wouldn’t be going through the wheel, after all.” Returned the Female Voice.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Asked the Male Voice.

“Because I know you, Hermes. Nothing is ever taken at face value with you, you aren’t called Mechaniotes for no reason, after all. You may fool others, but not me.” Sniffed the Female Voice.

“Ah, I should have known better than to try to trick you, Izanami. Clearly, your perception is without equal.” Remarked the Male Voice, Hermes.

“Damn right.” Huffed the Female Voice, Izanami.

“Still, can you not make an exception just this once?” Questioned Hermes.

“I suppose, that depends.” Grumbled Izanami.

“Depends? On what?” Queried Hermes.

“Just where it is you are planning to send him?” Asked Izanami.

“Well, I have been speaking with Lord Enma and he said that one of his dimensional counterparts was having a difficult time processing things. One of the ones of those fused dimensions. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind being on the lookout for talent to send that particular counterpart, you know how we Psychopomps tend to get around. I thought that since he was kind enough to host the last Psychopomp Game Night, I ought to be kind enough to help him out.” Shrugged Hermes.

“In other words, you tried cheating at cards or dice, he caught you, and you now owe him.” Smirked Izanami.

“See, you know me well enough to extend a little trust.” Grinned Hermes.

“No, I simply know how trickster gods operate. The last time something like this happened, it was Loki, and Old Man Coyote before that. You may be a Psychopomp, but that toga wraps over plenty of other duties as well.” Scoffed Izanami.

“Himation.” Informed Hermes.

“I beg your pardon?” Questioned Izanami.

“It’s a Himation. Togas are for Roman Gods like Janus or Quirinius.” Reiterated Hermes.

“Fascinating, but that’s hardly germane to the conversation.” Responded Izanami.

“Indeed. So, will you allow it?” Queried Hermes.

“Why should I get involved in clearing your debt with Lord Enma?” Asked Izanami.

“Because I happen to know you have a debt with Thoth over something that happened at the last Summit of the Pantheons. Some debate you got into with a knowledge god like him and lost, predictably. Thoth owes me after I helped him clear an obligation to Veles. I can see to it that he voids your own debt.” Offered Hermes.

“I do hate to be in the debt of a member of another pantheon.” Mused Izanami.

“So do we have a bargain?” Pressed Hermes.

“Very well, if you can get that Old Ibis to clear my debt, then I’ll agree to this.” Confirmed Izanami.

“Then I believe we have an agreement. I’ll contact you with the details once Thoth has agreed to void your debt.” Chuckled Hermes.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Huffed Izanami.

Then I felt Izanami’s presence vanish. Unfortunately, I could do nothing to speak up on my own behalf. I had no mouth with which to protest or accept, being what I had confirmed was little more than a mass of soul stuff with a basic awareness of beings, objects, and voices in my immediate vicinity. Honestly, being dead sucked, and I had to wonder just how I was supposed to enjoy an afterlife like this, even if I wasn’t apparently being used as a bargaining chip to clear Hermes’ Debts with the Japanese God of the Dead. I sincerely doubted that anyone could enjoy living in any of the afterlives like this.

Speaking of which, Hermes looked over at me and I felt him pass a hand through me. There was a pull as if my soul was magnetized, and suddenly I could see. Looking down, I realized that I was in the vague shape of a human being, a wispy, translucent, semi-featureless version of my appearance in life. Looking back, I saw Hermes, the Greek God gave me a shit-eating grin as I took in his appearance. Blonde curls peeked out from underneath a winged helmet, while his matching sandals allowed his wiry, subtly glowing, himation-garbed, frame to hover slightly off the floor. In one hand, he bore a rod with two snakes wrapped around it and crowned by a pair of wings, all of it cast in bronze and gilded with gold.

“Am I a ghost?” I questioned.

“You are, though not for long. You’re aware of the conversation I just had with Izanami-No-Mikoto, I assume?” Queried Hermes.

“Yeah, though I can’t say I understood what you were talking about.” I frowned.

“You’re familiar with what your Mortal Scientists call the Many Worlds interpretation of Quantum Physics, yes?” Asked Hermes.

“I am. Infinite Probabilities bring infinite timelines and infinite dimensions.” I nodded.

“Close enough for our purposes. I see from the posters you had in your bedroom in life that you’re a comics enthusiast. Perhaps looking at things from a Multiversal Perspective would be easier for you to understand. Especially given where I will be sending you.” Responded Hermes, looking over at the poster of Spider-Man above my former bed.

“You mean like there are dimensions where Comic Books are real?” I questioned.

“And movies, and television, and books, and so on.” Affirmed Hermes.

“So what? The people who made them are some sort of prophets?” I queried.

“Of a sort. It might be more accurate to say that the Human collective unconscious has some awareness of other dimensions and that these creatives are tapping into that.” Answered Hermes.

“So a merged dimension would be what? A crossover universe?” I asked.

“Now you’re getting it. You’re fairly quick on the uptake, for a human. Most souls your age would refuse to believe in all this.” Pointed Out Hermes.

“Yeah well, I was always more creative than most.” I shrugged.

“So I see. That will serve you in good stead where I’m sending you.” Intoned Hermes.

“And where is that, exactly?” I questioned.

“Now what would be the fun in telling you ahead of time?” Queried Hermes.

“That’s a dick move.” I groused.

“I’m a God, I get to make dick moves, as you call them. Now, are you ready?” Asked Hermes.

“Just hang on a sec. . .” I began.

“No, we’ve wasted too much time already. I hope you’re prepared because you’re going now!” Exclaimed Hermes.

Then, with a wave of his hand and a pulse of shining power, I felt myself being ripped out of reality and flung across all of time, space, and dimensions. It was an odd feeling, one that felt like I was being stretched and compressed at the same time, all while a dizzying array of scenes passed before my eyes. At first, they were familiar to me from my own world. The Ukraine War, the Two-Thousand-Eight Financial Crisis, Nine-Eleven, and the Fall of the Soviet Union. Then, there was a burst of light as those scenes cracked apart as if they were being projected on a pane of glass that had just been shattered. Those familiar scenes were then replaced with others, these going by too fast for me to see more than a glimpse of some sort of giant, Godzilla-looking thing shooting water at a bunch of people in bright costumes in the middle of a wrecked city before those too were shattered and replaced with the familiar form of Spider-Man swinging through Manhattan, shattering and replaced again.

This happened multiple times over and over again. All the while a song was faintly playing in the background, getting louder and louder with each pane of multiversal glass I broke through. It started too faint to be recognized, with indistinct lyrics and blurry instrumentals. It wasn’t until the trip was almost completely over, at least by my reckoning, that it got loud enough for me to make out exactly what the lyrics and beat were saying. By this point, I’d long since shut my eyes as the dizzying array of scenes was getting too much for me to deal with, even without a head to get a headache in.

“Jungle life, I'm far away from nowhere. On my own like Tarzan boy. Hide-and-seek, I play alone while rushing 'cross the forest. Monkey business on a sunny afternoon. Jungle life, I’m living in the open. Native beat that carries on. Burning bright, a fire that blows a signal to the sky. I sit and wonder, does the message get to you?” Sang the Music I was hearing.

“Wait a minute, is that fucking Tarzan Boy?” I demanded, opening my eyes once again.

Then there was a flash of light, the sound of the fabric of reality splitting open, and my last thought was that Hermes could have picked a better song before everything went dark. . .

XXXX

I awoke to being jostled, the sensation of being pulled out of a soft spot while I was sleeping causing me to awake from whatever sort of sleep or coma I’d been in. I opened a single bleary eye to see that I was being carried away from what looked like a nursery by a bald, bearded, pointy-eared, Man. There was a smaller, green-skinned, reptilian Man walking next to him with a crest of orange hair.

“Is it just me, or is today a day for sending out Infiltration Babies?” Questioned the Reptilian.

“You’re not wrong, Malaka. First Kakarot, now Rugulo. Shame about that, most Infiltration Babies don’t wind up surviving their worlds.” Offered the Bearded Man.

“Still, You have to Admit, Planchorr, it could be worse. Rugulo has a Power Level of Twenty. That’s at least ten times what Kakarot’s was.” Huffed the Reptilian, Malaka.

“That’s not good enough for King Vegeta’s liking. Any baby that’s one month out of the Gestation Tank and has a Power Level of less than one-hundred gets sent out on Infiltration Duty. One-Hundred to two-hundred get to be laborers, and everything above gets a proper mission. New rules.” Sighed the Bearded Man, Planchorr.

“When did that happen? That's not how it was on Planet Brench” Queried Malaka.

“Since about two months ago. Planet Brench is ruled by the Cold Family directly, instead of by a vassal, so it wouldn’t be operating under the same rules.” Answered Planchorr.

“I guess. I am new to Planet Vegeta, though.” Shrugged Malaka.

“Indeed. With that being so, do you have any news of the Galaxy?” Asked Planchorr.

“Yeah, it seems the Khunds and the Reach are going at it again. A bunch of species have lost their planets cause of it. Lord Frieza just received an embassy from the Ikondans last month asking about any planets for sale that fit their biology. Apparently, Lord Frieza’s decided to begin ramping up the sale of worlds to refugee populations so the Planet Trade can profit off this round, at least until the Lanterns decide to step in and mediate.” Responded Malaka.

“I guess he’s still kicking himself over not being able to sell any worlds to the Kryptonians.” Remarked Planchorr.

“That was sixteen years ago, I’m sure Lord Frieza’s had plenty of time to plan. Besides, it’s not like he could’ve done anything for them even if he did have a suitable red sun planet in stock at the time. Krypton went down with all its people on the planet.” Insisted Malaka.

“So, where are we sending Rugulo?” Questioned Planchorr, changing the topic.

“Someplace easy, surely?” Queried Malaka.

“You don’t know?” Asked Planchorr.

“I’d have to check the schedule.” Answered Malaka.

“Right, I guess they do things differently on Planet Brench.” Huffed Planchorr.

“Here, looks like a Jungle World, Suirpalam. Looks like a planet full of Monkey People. The average Power Level is ten, with elites at twenty. There’s a lot of deadly wildlife, though with power levels ranging from the twenties to the fifties, and there are reports of some that go as high as the seventies. It’s in Sector Three-Twelve, near Planet Nuts, just close enough to the conflict between the Reach and Khunds to be written off as collateral damage from the fighting if purged.” Informed Malaka, touching the scouter on the side of his face.

“Smart. I wonder what race ordered this one, though. Jungle Planets with lots of dangerous wildlife don’t tend to be in too high demand.” Frowned Planchorr.

“Looks like one of King Vegeta’s clients, the same as Kakarot’s Mission. I don’t know how or why he got the go-ahead from King Cold to clear planets for clients himself, though. It seems like something that he wouldn’t have usually allowed.” Mused Malaka.

“You’ve only served while Frieza’s been in charge, yes? King Cold did things differently. If it got him what he wanted with less fuss, he had no problems with allowing Vassals to make money on the side like that.” Explained Planchorr.

“Either way, looks like Rugulo will be right at home.” Huffed Malaka.

“Is that a Monkey joke? I’d be careful where you say that sort of thing on Planet Vegeta. You don’t have the sort of power level to get away with it.” Warned Planchorr.

I tuned out the rest of the conversation. From what I’d heard, this fused dimension was a version of the DCU that got fused with a version of Dragonball. I had no way of knowing what elements of each would be present, which meant that I was mostly flying without a map here. My best bet would likely be to try to make nice with the locals on Suirpalam and see if they had a way off the planet. I wanted to get to Earth, after all. It didn’t much matter to me whether that Earth was a DCU Earth, a Dragonball Earth, or some mix of the two, I wanted to get there, not least because it would get me out from under Frieza’s Boot. 

Honestly, judging by the conversation, Kakarot had already been sent out, which meant that if I was being sent out, it was as one of the very last pods being sent out before Frieza ordered all Saiyans confined to Planet Vegeta so he could blow them all up. It sounded like the only reason that Kakarot survived to become Goku was that Earth’s Location was lost with Planet Vegeta. Unfortunately, I probably couldn’t count on that Grace Period holding until I was in my twenties like Kakarot had. After all, Suirpalam’s location seemed to be known to more than just the Saiyans and their clients. I’d probably escape the recall order, since Infiltration Babies were basically given suicide missions and then not checked in on for extended periods, but I couldn’t count on Frieza not knowing where Suirpalam was.

Then I felt myself being lowered down, looking over at where I was being placed, I saw the single-occupant cockpit of an Attack Pod looming in front of me. As Planchorr put me down in there, I wiggled about, trying to get comfortable. I had no idea how long it would take for me to get to Suirpalam, after all. I wanted to be sure I didn’t have a cramp when I finally got there, just in case my pod was found by one of those giant predators before anything else.

“All right, Rugulo, good luck. You’ll need it.” Nodded Planchorr at me.

“He’s a baby, Planchorr, he can’t understand you.” Pointed out Malaka.

“That doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t wish him luck. He’s an Infiltration Baby, he’ll need all the help he can get.” Reminded Planchorr.

Then he lowered the door to my Pod and I couldn’t hear him anymore. The Attack Pod interior was dark for a few moments before the electronics started up with a humming noise. I could, oddly enough, understand the language and number system. Likely, languages were imprinted onto my mind in the Gestation Tank, along with basic math, and basic literacy. I likely just wouldn’t ordinarily know it until I matured a bit more. Saiyan Ageing was weird, after all. My body, coming out of the Gestation Tank, was three years old, but I had the mind of a teenager thanks to my previous life, clearly, my soul transmigration was splitting the difference here. I was still two years off from Kindergarten Age if this were back on Earth, at least physically. Mentally, though, I was more than capable of reading and writing. I probably could have spoken too if I’d been willing to give the game away.

“Saiyan Designate: Rugulo. Destination: Suirpalam. Estimated Time To Arrival: Nine Months, One Week, Three Days. Applying Stasis Gas.” Chimed the Electronic Voice of the Attack Pod.

Then there was a hissing noise and a release of greenish-gray gas, and suddenly I found myself drifting back off to sleep as the Attack Ball roared to life, blasting off into space. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so since I’m sick, you guys get a new story that I’ve had on my laptop for a while. I was planning to start it up after finishing out the current run on Fire of the North, which would have ended in about twelve more chapters or so. I figured I’d start it now, though, since I already had the intro ready and I wanted to get you guys something out while I was sick.

This is a DC/Dragonball SI Crossover Story with the SI being the Saiyan Warrior Rugulo, which if you know about Saiyan naming conventions, you’ll know is a pun on the word Arugula, a type of lettuce. Unfortunately for Rugulo, he’s about as strong as Yamcha was when he was first introduced, maybe a little stronger. That means that he gets sent on a suicide mission to a jungle world as an Infiltration Baby. Fortunately, that largely means he also has a grace period before Frieza decides to track him down as part of his Kill All The Saiyans Plan. Unfortunately, the World he was sent to is known in the wider galaxy, which means his grace period isn’t going to be anywhere close to Goku’s.

A note on the Crossover, Earth is going to largely be DC Stuff with a few Dragonball Characters and elements thrown into the mix. For instance, Goku, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, and so on are around, as are the Turtle and Crane Schools, but Capsule Corp isn’t. Doctor Briefs is instead a Tech-Based Superhero. Meanwhile, Space is going to be a more even mix of Dragonball and DC Stuff, while Magically, I’m using King Yemma instead of Lord Enma for the Japanese God of the Afterlife, and the Kais are around as more or less a third-prong on the New Genesis/Apokalips Axis, though they’ve long since separated themselves from the Darkseid-Highfather Pissing Match.

At any rate, the next chapter will involve the arrival on Suirpalam and Rugulo’s first run-in with the local wildlife.

Stay tuned. . .