Dragon Ball Z: Paradise Found

A Super Saiyan Conveyor Belt

Vegeta shot out a thrust kick, rocking a charging Meta-Cooler and rattling its body core. The Super Saiyan swept his leg down under him, tripping up a handful more and leaving them swinging weightlessly in mid-air. The cybernetic horde was beginning to pile on him and Vegeta's only solace was that being indoors and inside of a reactor chamber, as massive as it was, provided the 10 000 000 000 Meta-Coolers incredibly limited space for all of them to move at once.

With a golden burst of energy, the Saiyan royalty vanished and appeared before a stationary Meta-Cooler that was observing the battle from up above and smacked his entire leg into the perturbed face of the cyborg clone. Vegeta spun in mid-air, switching between the kicking legs as the wide-angle of his kicking rampage allowed him to swat away the rest of the incoming Meta-Coolers while his exploding Ki aura dealt with the meek Death Lasers homed in on him.

The Saiyan finished his ruthless beat down of the observant Meta-Cooler with a flying dash kick that sent the Meta-Cooler hurling across the reactor chamber like a bullet train. Vegeta extended his hand, overflowing with golden Ki before a shiny cerulean orb formed at the end of his palm and his golden Ki disappeared into it, transforming into azure and cerulean shine while the Super Saiyan's own aura vanished.

"Big Bang Attack!" Vegeta once again chanted, hurling a massive Ki energy ball across while the clumped in billions of Meta-Coolers freaked out at their limited ability to dodge such a wide attack with all of them occupying the same chamber together. A handful of Meta-Coolers whizzed away in a mad dash of Hyper Movement while the poor, discombobulated Meta-Cooler doppelganger disappeared into a heap of stray scrap upon collision with the Big Bang Attack.

"You cocky bastard..." Vegeta wiped his lip with the back of his dirty and bruised knuckle. "I've powered up significantly since being brought back from the brink of death. One of you, a million or even a billion, it won't make any difference for a lump of nuts and bolts you've allowed yourself to become, Cooler!"

And yet, it didn't appear like Meta-Coolers would give Vegeta too much of downtime to recoup after the Ki he had spent on disposing of a single Meta-Cooler as another silver cyborg blitzed in from behind with a power blow to the back of Vegeta's ribs. The Super Saiyan grunted out, struggling to maintain his balance and consciousness while an entire platoon of Meta-Coolers shuffled before him. That proved to be a distraction, however, as the Meta-Cooler behind Vegeta repeated his attack with another jackhammer thud that bent the Super Saiyan's body entirely out of its natural shape and whited his teal eyes out for a blink.

Another Meta-Cooler shot in from the formation like a living bullet, slamming into the Super Saiyan's forehead and knocking him back and stumbling before the attacking Meta-Cooler crossed his arms and beamed a mocking smile Vegeta's way while his doppelgangers rushed ahead like a hungry pack of scavenger beasts to rip into what remained.

"I bet you'd like to transform into your hideous Great Ape form right now, wouldn't you? Become that Golden Great Ape nonsense that disposed of the original Cooler before, right? Has it dawned on you, I wonder, that your own precious family is in this very majestic cosmic construction you see around you? Surely they couldn't handle it if you destroyed it and left them floating in the middle of space, without a way of returning to their home planet. Or maybe they could? Are you willing to take that gamble? One thing's for certain, Earthling women floating in inhospitable space, gasping for a breath of air, are very easy targets for a stray shot, don't you think?" Meta-Cooler laughed out while a pack of his copies put a thorough beat down on Vegeta.

Lined-up all together and slowly rotating around, the Meta-Coolers threw coordinated yet entirely skill-less flurries of fists, kicks, stomps, tail whips, and aerial flips with lashing heel stomps. In their coordinated precision, the automated tyrant warriors worked like a real machine. Precise and beautiful in some way, yet brutal and unrelenting in another. Somewhere, to some observers, the two concepts may have touched and rubbed the edges of their content to some extent.