Mirai Trunks eyes burned with pure hate. He focused on the remnants of the once vibrant city. The andriods had obvoiusly been through here more than once. But this place had aspecial meaning to him. This was the place his master had made his last stand.
This was where Gohan had died.

Trunks' hands clenched into fists. His nails began to tear violently into his palms, drawing crimson blood from their depths. Tears raked down his cheeks and came together under his chin. His mouth opened to only utter one word;
"Why?"
This was the ultimate question. One word. Three letters. One syllable. Yet, it was the ultimate expression of his being. It voiced every question inside his aching mind and bleeding soul.
Why did his father have to die?
Why did Goku have to die?
Why did Piccolo die, and take the dragonballs with him?
Why was he the soul survivor?
and most importantly...Why did Gohan have to die?

Lightining tore at the sky.
It's awesome light blotted everything out except the sillohette of a tortured young man.

Trunks threw his arms and head back. He unleashed a hellish scream into the night. In the same instant he transformed into his super saiyan form. His scream turned into curses.
"I WILL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKIN' ANDROIDS! SEVENTEEN! YOU KAMI-DAMNED FAGGOT! EIGHTEEN! YOUFUCKIN'BITCH! YOU'LL BOTH DIE!"

Trunks' curses tapered off into random, muttered curses. He slowly sank from his hovering position in the sky, to the ground. As he sank to the ground he lost the will to sustain his super saiyan form. Sobsuncontrollably racked his young body. He cried for the innocence that was lost; not only his own, but that of all the children that lived in this hell-hole of a world. He sobbed for his father, whom he would only know from the stories his mother toldof him. He sobbed forhis mother, who'd been left all alone from all her friends and family, to raise him alone.
But then his breath hitched. She hadn't been totally alone in the time it had taken to raise him.
She'd had Gohan to help her.
His sobs were renewed when Gohan's smiling face appeared in his mind's eye.

"Gohan...why...why couldn't I come?" Trunks whimpered.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Trunks knew it probably wouldn't made that much of a difference. In fact, if he had gone with Gohan that fatefull day, he probably would've perished along with his sensei. But Trunks emotions kept that rational, along with all rational, out of his thinking.

Trunks felt a chill crawl over the entire backside of his backside. He hadn't realised that he'd given the rain time to soak into, and through,his clothes. His lavender hair was plastered against his face, dyed a darker shade by the falling rain. He stood up, his weighted Capsule Corp. boots sinking ever so slightly into the mud. The tears drying on his face seemed to burn him. With sudden viciousness Trunks slashed the tears away with his nails, leaving welts where he had touched.
With rage smoldering in his soul, Trunks flew back to his home.

Trunks slipped into the window of the run-down Capsule Corp. building, into his bedroom. He stared blankly at his bed as he stripped off his soaked clothing; wishing that he could crawl into it's beckoning sheets, wake up, and realize everything was just a horrible nightmare. Trunks pitched the sopping wet clothes into his hamper and crawled nude into the thick sheets. He loved the warm feeling bestowed upon him, a welcome change from the icy rain.With one last glance, Trunks slipped into restless sleep.

"Gohan!"
Trunks screamed his sensei's name over and over.
Gohan walked peacefully on a garden path, unaware the Androids were quickly advancing upon him.
Trunks began to run as fast as his legs could carry him, his heart racing in fear.
As he got closer and closer he realised, not just Gohan was walking on the path. But his mother, his father, andthe rest of the Z warriors walked peacefully together. All of them were totally oblivious to the fact that death was racing toward their backs. He was just about to reach them when he fell flat on his face. He looked to his feet, seeing a black tar had taken hold of him from the ankles down. He pulled fruitlessly with all his strength. He turned his attention back to his friends.
"Gohan! Mother! Father! Run!" Trunks screamed over and over.
But it was too late.
Eighteen unleashed a blast which quickly obliterated Tien, Choatzu, and Yamcha. Seventeen appeared in front of Krillen; kicking foward he knocked the wind from his lungs, and with one punch broke the human's neck. Master Roshi, Puar, Oolong, his mother; Bulma,Chichi...they were all destroyed with a combination blast from both Seventeen and Eighteen.
Goku, Vegeta, Piccolo, and Gohan huddled together in an effort to protect one another.
Vegeta charged forth from the pack in a pure rage, only to be caught be Eighteen and pelted with Seventeen's rapid fire technique until his struggles ceased. Seventeen's glare fell upon Goku with deadly determination. He fired one of his rays at Goku, only to have Goku knocked aside by his namekian friend. Piccolo was disintigrated instantly.
"Dammit." Seventeen cursed with little emotion.
Suddenly Goku lurched foward, clutching his chest. And within the next instant fell dead at the feet of the Androids.
Both Androids soul-less eyes focused on Gohan who, uncharacteristicly, began to weep.
Trunks screamed the names of each of his friends and family before blacking out.

Trunks awoke in a cold sweat. Not even sleep in a warm bed had made thenightmares stop. He slung his knees over the side of the bed and, placing his elbows upon his knees, held his face for what seemed like an eternity.
Long ago he had stopped dreaming of the world without the Androids. Now his sleep was either black nothingness, or horrid nightmares. He'd once heard that dreams were the key to the soul. Did this mean his soul was nothing more than oblivion and nightmares? Or did this mean he had no soul anymore?
Trunks didn't think about it long. He dressed, walked downstairs, and made himself some coffee. It was instant and he hated instant coffee, he didn't even believe that it tasted like real coffee any way. But it was long ago when he actually cared what type of coffee he drank to wake himself from his nightmare land.
He flicked the radio on and quickly swtiched it to the Andriod Alert station. At the moment it only blared static. This was good. He would worry when he heard a bulletin.
He downed his 'coffee', and laid his head on the cold metal table.