The next morning, Bulma showed up at the lab bright and early. She'd completely blown off school. Why sit through a lecture on basic calculus when you could be decoding alien DNA with a super-hunk?
Luther laid out the problem.
"It's the Codex," Luther explained, pulling up a holographic projection of a double helix. "On Krypton, we didn't do natural birth. We were grown in genesis chambers. Every citizen was pre-designed for a specific role. Workers, scientists, soldiers."
He pointed to a blocked section of the sequence.
"I have the Soldier template. It makes me fearless and efficient, but it locks away unnecessary chemical responses. Like extreme joy, sorrow... or love."
Bulma froze. Her eyes went wide.
"Wait," she stammered, dropping her tablet. "Are you saying... you can't secrete oxytocin? You can't fall in love? Biologically?"
To Bulma, this was a catastrophe. She didn't care about his combat efficiency. She cared about the fact that her future boyfriend might be physically incapable of feeling butterflies in his stomach.
"It's muted," Luther corrected gently. "I have memories of emotions, but feeling them now? It's like trying to scratch an itch through a thick winter coat. It's distant."
He looked at her with those deep, intense eyes. "I want to break the lock, Bulma. I want to feel everything. But I can't do it alone."
That was the kill shot. Bulma's eyes blazed with determination.
"Leave it to me!" she declared, rolling up her sleeves. "I'm going to fix your broken heart, Luther. Literally!"
For the next month, the lab was a war zone of science.
Bulma attacked the problem with the ferocity of a caffeine-addicted squirrel. She devoured textbooks on cytology, advanced genetics, and xenobiology. She ran simulations day and night.
But Luther wasn't just sitting around waiting for a rescue.
He was a Kryptonian. He had a Super Brain that processed information at light speed. As much as he valued Bulma's help, his pride wouldn't let him lose a battle of wits to a teenager, no matter how genius she was.
She's smart, Luther thought, watching her mutter equations in the corner. But I'm faster.
While Bulma slept, Luther worked. He ran his own simulations, testing millions of permutations per second.
Thirty days later.
"Brother Luther!"
Bulma burst into his private workspace, waving a data pad. She looked like a wreck—hair frizzy, lab coat stained with coffee—but she was beaming.
"I did it! I found the bypass key! I can unlock your emotional spectrum!"
She ran over, expecting him to be shocked.
Luther turned around in his chair. He looked... different. There was a genuine warmth in his smile that hadn't been there yesterday. It wasn't the practiced charm of a sociopath; it was real amusement.
"I know," Luther said softly. "I fixed it last night."
Bulma skidded to a halt. Her face fell. "You... you already finished?"
"I filled in the gaps," Luther explained, pulling up his own data. "The Kryptonian genome had deletions. I synthesized the missing base pairs and completed the sequence."
Bulma looked at his work, then at hers.
"Well," she huffed, crossing her arms. "My method was different. I was going to use a retro-virus to revert your cells to an ancestral state. Before the genetic tampering."
Luther paused. He looked at her data.
Reversion to an ancestral state?
That sparked an idea. Bulma's method was actually more aggressive. It wasn't just fixing the lock; it was smashing the door down. That kind of thinking was exactly what he needed for the Doomsday project later.
"Your way is brilliant, Bulma," Luther said, patting her head. "Really. It gave me an idea for another project. But for now... the emotions are back on line."
He winked at her. "And they feel great."
Bulma turned bright red. "O-oh. Well. Good."
With his emotions unlocked (and a new appreciation for sarcasm), Luther decided it was time to move to Phase Two.
He couldn't rely solely on lab work to become a god. He needed a shortcut.
He needed the Dragon Balls.
While Bulma had been obsessing over his love life, Luther had built a Dragon Radar. It was sleeker and more sensitive than the one Bulma would eventually build in the canon.
He checked the screen. Seven blips pulsating across the globe.
"Time for a scavenger hunt," Luther muttered.
He had a very specific wish in mind. He wasn't going to wish for immortality (too cliché) or panties (too Roshi).
He wanted Broly.
Specifically, he wanted a gene sample from the Legendary Super Saiyan. If he could splice Broly's "infinite growth" mutation into his own Kryptonian "solar battery" physiology... he would become a self-charging engine of destruction.
"I'll be back for dinner," Luther told Bulma.
ZHOOM.
Target One: Mount Paozu.
Luther hovered invisibly over the dense forest. Below, a little monkey-tailed boy was dragging a giant fish back to his hut.
Son Goku.
Luther watched him for a second. The kid had the Four-Star Ball inside his house, treating it like a memorial to his grandfather.
"Sorry, kid," Luther whispered. "I'm borrowing Grandpa."
He didn't bother engaging. He waited until Goku went down to the river to wash the fish blood off his hands.
Luther blurred. He was inside the hut and out before the door even finished creaking.
One down.
Target Two: Pilaf's Castle.
Emperor Pilaf was currently monologue-ing to his two henchmen, Shu and Mai, about his plans for world domination. He held the One-Star Ball in his hand, cackling.
"With this, we shall rule the—"
CRASH.
The ceiling exploded.
Luther floated down through the dust, looking bored.
"Who dares?!" Pilaf shrieked. "Attack him! Use the pilaf-bots!"
Luther didn't have Goku's patience. He didn't find Pilaf funny. He found him annoying.
His eyes glowed red.
ZZZT.
Two beams of concentrated heat vision vaporized Pilaf instantly. No speech, no battle. Just ash.
Shu and Mai screamed, hugging each other in terror.
Luther grabbed the Dragon Ball from the pile of dust that used to be their boss. He looked at the trembling dog-ninja and the woman.
"Run," Luther said.
They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled out of the room so fast they left cartoon dust clouds behind.
Two down.
Target Seven: Kame House.
This was the tricky one.
Master Roshi was a martial arts legend. Even though his power level was low compared to Z standards, his senses were sharp.
It was 3:00 AM. The small island was silent, save for the sound of waves lapping against the pink house.
Luther floated down, suppressing his Biological Field until he was utterly undetectable. No heartbeat. No breath. No Ki signature. Even the Androids would have had more presence than he did right now.
He phased through the window using his super-speed to vibrate his molecules (a trick he was still perfecting, but it worked on wood).
Roshi was snoring loudly, a snot bubble expanding and contracting from his nose. Around his neck, hanging on a piece of string, was the Three-Star Ball.
Luther moved like a shadow.
He didn't wake the old man. He didn't trigger a trap. He simply reached out, snapped the string with microscopic precision, and caught the ball before it hit the master's chest.
Roshi mumbled something about "puff-puffs" in his sleep and rolled over.
Luther drifted back out the window, hovering over the ocean.
He opened his bag. Seven orange orbs glowed in the moonlight.
"Too easy," Luther smiled. "Shenron, you're up."
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