Note: This is A/U. In other words, no flying, no SSJ, no Dragon Balls, and no energy technicues!!
I don't get ANY money what-so-ever to write my fics. I didn't create Dragon Ball, and if I did It would be soooooo crappy. Oh well.
Trunks Briefs woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, because of his re-occuring nightmares. Each time he came close to clearing his name, but then Goten, the one person that could ever come close to catching him, always had taken out his energy gun, and had shot at him, millions of times before he knew what happened. And each time there was one chance he had, but each time he had chosen the wrong choice, once as simple as a wrong turn, the other as hard to notice as going down the wrong hallway, or going into the wrong building at the wrong time. He wiped off the sweat off his forehead, then got up and walked into the kitchen, or what he could call a kitchen. All there was was a small cooler, filled to the brim with Coke's, Pepsi's, Milk, and some more stuff. He reached down and grabbed the gallon of milk and poured a glass. He drank the whole glass in one gulp, then turned the cap back on and put it back into the cooler. Suddenly the living room, or what he could call one, was light wth blue and red flashing lights.
Two swat members kicked his door in and looked around. They walked around searching for the well wanted fugitive. "Give yourself up, and we won't hurt you!" One said.
He was hiding behind his sofa, crouched down, trying not to make a move. He sneaked around behind the sofa, and sneaked behind his wooden chair, then he ran down the hallway into his bedroom. He crouched down and reached under the bed to grab his energy rifle, which he had modifed to be a machine gun. He felt around under his bed franticly, trying to find his gun. He heard the flammilair sound of a switchblade being flipped open, and felt the cold feel of the blade pressed into the back of his neck. "Give it up. Now. I wish I could kill you here and now, but I can't do that." Goten said.
He slowly got up, and put his hands in the air, surrendering. Goten reached into his pocket for the handcuffs. Trunks kicked him qucikly, and turned to run out. He head a small click, like the sound of a handgun being cocked. Then a few seconds later, he heard a few quick bangs, then he felt the sharp pain in his back. He had been shot twice in the back, and a near miss with his head. He tried to get to his other gun, or even his switchblade, which was under his pillow.
But before he could get any of those, he was shot in the chest by a sniper, sitting in a treehouse across the street. With that, he fell to the ground, almost dead. Goten then walked up to him, put his foot on his head, and pushed down as hard as he could. After he finished torturing him, he took out his handgun and again shot him a few times in the chest. It was at this time that Trunks finaly woke up from his horrible nightmare.
He reached under his pillow for his switchblade and flipped it open. He was scared for his life. He had never been this scared ever before. He walked to the bathroom, and fumbled around in the dark for the light switch. He heard a loud crash and he crouched down, in a fighting stance, his switchblade gliting in the moonlight. He finally found the lightswitch and flipped it on. He also found out what had made the loud crash that had scared him. He had fumbled around in the dark, and had bumped into a picture frame hung in the bathroom. The picture had fallen to the ground and the glass frame had shattered. This picture, one taken with his mom and dad. He was in the picture too, but as a five year old. His mother had died the year later in a car accident. His father had somewhat died that day too. His faher had just turned and flew off. Trunks never knew where his father was, or if he was still alive. He had not known it, but he was begining to cry after seeing the picture. His father had left him around $6 to live on. It was because of this that Trunks knew how to pick locks better than anyone alive. He had become "The Kid" at 10 years. The problem was, he couldn't have a gun at that age, and he didn't know Judo or anything. So, what he did is he had taken all of the mechanicle things around the house and had made himself a small handgun. It wasn't very good at rapidfire, but it would work on one or two cops.
I don't get ANY money what-so-ever to write my fics. I didn't create Dragon Ball, and if I did It would be soooooo crappy. Oh well.
Trunks Briefs woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, because of his re-occuring nightmares. Each time he came close to clearing his name, but then Goten, the one person that could ever come close to catching him, always had taken out his energy gun, and had shot at him, millions of times before he knew what happened. And each time there was one chance he had, but each time he had chosen the wrong choice, once as simple as a wrong turn, the other as hard to notice as going down the wrong hallway, or going into the wrong building at the wrong time. He wiped off the sweat off his forehead, then got up and walked into the kitchen, or what he could call a kitchen. All there was was a small cooler, filled to the brim with Coke's, Pepsi's, Milk, and some more stuff. He reached down and grabbed the gallon of milk and poured a glass. He drank the whole glass in one gulp, then turned the cap back on and put it back into the cooler. Suddenly the living room, or what he could call one, was light wth blue and red flashing lights.
Two swat members kicked his door in and looked around. They walked around searching for the well wanted fugitive. "Give yourself up, and we won't hurt you!" One said.
He was hiding behind his sofa, crouched down, trying not to make a move. He sneaked around behind the sofa, and sneaked behind his wooden chair, then he ran down the hallway into his bedroom. He crouched down and reached under the bed to grab his energy rifle, which he had modifed to be a machine gun. He felt around under his bed franticly, trying to find his gun. He heard the flammilair sound of a switchblade being flipped open, and felt the cold feel of the blade pressed into the back of his neck. "Give it up. Now. I wish I could kill you here and now, but I can't do that." Goten said.
He slowly got up, and put his hands in the air, surrendering. Goten reached into his pocket for the handcuffs. Trunks kicked him qucikly, and turned to run out. He head a small click, like the sound of a handgun being cocked. Then a few seconds later, he heard a few quick bangs, then he felt the sharp pain in his back. He had been shot twice in the back, and a near miss with his head. He tried to get to his other gun, or even his switchblade, which was under his pillow.
But before he could get any of those, he was shot in the chest by a sniper, sitting in a treehouse across the street. With that, he fell to the ground, almost dead. Goten then walked up to him, put his foot on his head, and pushed down as hard as he could. After he finished torturing him, he took out his handgun and again shot him a few times in the chest. It was at this time that Trunks finaly woke up from his horrible nightmare.
He reached under his pillow for his switchblade and flipped it open. He was scared for his life. He had never been this scared ever before. He walked to the bathroom, and fumbled around in the dark for the light switch. He heard a loud crash and he crouched down, in a fighting stance, his switchblade gliting in the moonlight. He finally found the lightswitch and flipped it on. He also found out what had made the loud crash that had scared him. He had fumbled around in the dark, and had bumped into a picture frame hung in the bathroom. The picture had fallen to the ground and the glass frame had shattered. This picture, one taken with his mom and dad. He was in the picture too, but as a five year old. His mother had died the year later in a car accident. His father had somewhat died that day too. His faher had just turned and flew off. Trunks never knew where his father was, or if he was still alive. He had not known it, but he was begining to cry after seeing the picture. His father had left him around $6 to live on. It was because of this that Trunks knew how to pick locks better than anyone alive. He had become "The Kid" at 10 years. The problem was, he couldn't have a gun at that age, and he didn't know Judo or anything. So, what he did is he had taken all of the mechanicle things around the house and had made himself a small handgun. It wasn't very good at rapidfire, but it would work on one or two cops.