Machine Made Man

My name is Son Gohan. I'm nineteen years old. I'm also the son of Son Goku, the world-famous martial artist who was known as the Earth's greatest hero.

You've probably noticed that I said "was." That's because he's dead. He didn't die in battle, as I'm sure he would've probably wanted to. Instead, a heart virus got him when we were all least expecting it. For all his strength, he fell to the virus after a long, stressful week.

A lot of people tried to console me after that. Mrs. Brief would give me plates and plates chocolate chip cookies, for example. Mister… no, Piccolo… would rub my head and try and tell me that my dad would've wanted me to look toward the future. He said that when I do pass on, I'll get to see him again. He'd already died before, so he knew what the afterlife is like.

Little did we both know he'd be returning very shortly.

Two androids, masquerading as teenagers, would show up six months after my father's death and begin terrorizing Amenbo Island. Apparently they had been created by Doctor Gero in an attempt at getting revenge on my father. When they learned they couldn't take him out, they turned their attention to the rest of the world. Every single Z-Fighter – Tien, Chiaotzu, Yamcha, Krillin, Piccolo, and even Vegeta – were slain in cold blood.

And that's where my struggle began. For nine grueling years, I've fought with my Super Saiyan powers to try and minimize all the death and destruction that these androids caused. But it was never enough. How could it be when I never had a moment to properly train, instead having to throw myself into fight after fight, week in and week out, just to try and save the rest of humanity?

Don't think I'm spiteful toward them. Bulma sometimes thinks that I am. I have to constantly tell her that I'm doing this not because I feel some obligation to humanity, but because I want to. Even as she continues to tape me up in the medical ward, nodding her head, I can tell there's a small sense of distrust in her eyes. I never understood it.

That was until I fell back on what I'd always been best at: studying.

My mom had long since forfeited the idea of me becoming a scholar in this time. As intense as she was on me hitting the books, I think even she knew that I was humanity's best chance at freeing the Earth from the androids. But even still, she would give me some books to read while I recovered—just as a way to pass the time, she said, so that I didn't fall into insanity. I'd push them away at first, focused on recovering and leaping back into the fight. But my most recent battle came a little too close for call, and I've been out of commission for a solid four months with little else to do.

A book on that ever-growing stack stuck out to me. It was a psychology book—and ironic as it is, I can't remember its name for my life. But I picked it up and just let my mind get lost in those walls of words like I did when I was a little child.

When I set the book down, I felt like an entire new well of power flowed through me. I finally got why I wasn't making any progress at defeating the androids.

I wasn't whittling them down, as I had convinced myself into believing. I was only gnawing at my own health—both in the physical and mental sense.

I didn't challenge the androids for an entire year after that. I trained ferociously for an entire year, only breaking when I had to for meals and rest. I was sure I'd grown more powerful than my father and Vegeta as Super Saiyans. In fact, I knew I had.

Confident in my chances, I found myself kissing my mother goodbye and thanking Bulma and Trunks for their hospitality one last time.

This was it, I told myself. Do or die.

I never thought I'd actually end up doing both at the exact same time.

"You've gotten stronger, Blondie!" Seventeen, the male twin of the duo, seemingly approved as he nursed a fresh cut on his hand. "But I hope you didn't forget that we're stronger." He nodded to his sister, who I already knew had descended a few feet behind me.

This one-on-one fight was about to turn into the rotten handicap that I'd been accustomed to for so long.

Seventeen dashed at me from the front, throwing a knife hand chop at my neck. Of course I wanted to block it, but Eighteen's interference with an elbow to the back prevented me from doing just that. That was always the problem with fighting these two—just when I thought I could get the rhythm of the fight down against one, the other would come barreling in and ruin everything.

As the two began to rain down a combined assault on me, I have to admit my mind wasn't fully there. Although I was fighting back and even managed to shake them loose a few times, I found myself wondering how much easier this entire battle would be if I had someone around my level of power. Trunks was the only candidate to train, of course, but he was still way too young for me to even consider it. That's why this has been my battle—alone.

But sometimes, even the best of us just can't handle being alone.

I knock Seventeen away from me with an arced kick to his shoulder, sending him spiraling into an abandoned building and causing it to collapse in on itself. Before I knew it though, Eighteen was already on me with a headbutt to my own brow, commanding a rivulet of blood to ooze down my face.

She stopped her assault to land on the ground, her hands on her hips. She smirked at me as her figure became red-tinted through my eye's vision. I mustered up a growl at her, but she simply laughed it off. "Red and yellow seem to mix well on you. It's a shame you still have to copy me in order to look that pretty."

I didn't know if she meant it, and I didn't care. This woman was responsible for killing so many innocent people; she was incapable of a feeling such as love. I knew she only meant it as a way to taunt me, to try and get me off my game. So instead of allowing myself to get angry, I remained calm—focused. I had to be. My Super Saiyan power wasn't infinite, and as much as I'd trained, it still put a strain on me to keep the form up. I had to make the most of my time, so I did with a well-timed right hook to her cheek. She visibly flinched and took a few steps back, grunting in what I could only hope was pain. I followed that up by sprinting forward and punting her forward with as high a kick I could muster, racing around her to try and follow up—

—and of course, Seventeen was there to intercept me with a tackle that brought me straight to the ground. I was helpless as he fired off punch after punch on me, barely managing to keep my consciousness. But then his sister joined in, and I felt myself slipping away into darkness.

But then a small tinge of light appeared in my mind's eye. I didn't know what it was, other than that I wanted it. I mentally grasped it, and I felt my body roar out as my Super Saiyan aura burst to life again, pushing both androids up and away from me as I flipped back to my feet, my breath still as heavy as ever.

The situation was worse than I'd expected. They'd been blown to either of my sides, surrounding me and just waiting to see what I'd do. My teal eyes looked from side to side at them before they turned back to black. Similarly, my hair lost its golden sheen in favor of its natural dark hue.

I mentally cursed myself. I knew I was finished.

"Now that's better," Eighteen dryly smiled. "You look so much better when you're not trying to copy me." She looked me over for a moment, folding her arms. "Although I'm impressed you're still conscious. How long do you give him before he just passes out, Seventeen?"

"If we don't make him first? I'd give him, like, two minutes," came Seventeen's snide remark. He saw how my legs were beginning to wobble, how I was fighting to even still stand. "I say we give him those two minutes. Let him give one of those dramatic speeches I love so much."

"Your call," Eighteen nonchalantly shrugged. "That means I get the purple-haired boy, though. That way we're four-for-four on the important kills."

My eyes widened. They knew they'd struck a nerve, and if I had the energy to attack them, I knew I would have. "H-How do you know about Trunks?!" I found myself asking, unable to think sensibly enough to hide his name.

"Did you really think you escaped us so many times because of your own abilities, Gohan?" Seventeen eerily asked me with a sinister smile on his face.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. That meant… they knew. Everything. Where I'd been housed, who I talked to… and now they were all going to get personalized deaths because of me. "You're saying you let me run from you?! What kind of sick monsters are you?!"

"To be fair, you really did manage to hide yourself for the first few years," Eighteen explained, folding her arms as she walked from my side and stepped in front of me. She knew I wasn't a threat anymore—and unfortunately, I knew it myself. Almost civilly, she put a hand on my shoulder. Almost as if she was my friend. "But when you overshot yourself in our last fight, you would've needed a miracle to have actually made it out on your own."

"Consider yourself lucky that we were bored and didn't really feel up to killing you. Otherwise, we would've," laughed Seventeen as he approached. He stepped in line next to his sister and looked me dead in the eye. "We followed you as you made that pitiful excuse for a distraction and passed out in West City. We saw you as you passed out just at Capsule Corp.'s doorstep, and we watched as Bulma took you in. And she's a real hot chick, by the way. Wish I'd known that sooner."

I felt a rage surge up through me. I'd grown thick enough to ignore any insults related toward me, but my father's best friend, who'd supported me for as long as I'd been waging this war, commanded more respect than to just be called a "hot chick." But Seventeen knew I was planning on keeping up this struggle, because he went and kicked my leg out and sent me falling to both his and his sister's feet. They were laughing all the while as I slammed my fist into the pavement in rage, wishing I could channel something, anything, from that well that popped up so frequently as a child.

But there was no miracle to be found. I was completely spent.

"If it makes you feel any better, boy," Eighteen mockingly offered as she raised her palm at me. "I promise you we'll have more fun with everyone at Capsule Corp. than we did with you."

Fun… fun!

"W-Wait!"

Both androids seemed surprised by my sudden outburst. They looked toward each other, ice blue eyes meeting their identical counterparts, before back at me.

"Yes?" Seventeen asked, obviously caught off-guard.

"What if… I could promise you a deal… that worked out for both of us?" I feebly offered. I could already feel my lip turning up in a demented smirk, my eyes likely glistening with insanity. But I was anything but. I had a plan to fight the androids… it had been in front of me all along. I was just too wrapped up in my own power to see it.

It was time to fight this battle like a human instead of a Saiyan.

"A deal?" Eighteen looked toward her brother, disgusted. "I honestly think that this boy's been hit too hard on his head. Can't we just kill him already?"

"You said it was my call, Eighteen," Seventeen reminded her, not taking his eyes off me, "and I want to see what Gohan has to offer."

"You won't… regret it…" I winced out, the pain in my body beginning to surge. But I fought to remain conscious—the fate of the world depended on it. "Without me… there's no one left. No more toys for you to play with."

They remained silent. I knew I had them.

"I'm the last defender… who is both brave and stupid enough to stand up to you. Without me… you're just stuck mindlessly killing. You'll have no more challenges, no new way to spice up your lives."

"So you want us to just let you walk off with a lame excuse like that?" Seventeen smirked at me. "Sorry, Gohan, but I think my sister was right when she thought you had brain damage. It's about time to end this here." He gave a brief but informative nod to his sister, whose eyes seemed to light up.

"I know… the truth about you both. That you're not just robots…" I breathed out, my voice raspy. "You feel like real beings. You," I look toward Eighteen, "smell of perfume. Like a real girl would…" I began laughing, and by this point, I almost agreed with the androids in thinking that I genuinely had lost it. "…and that one day, you'll want more out of life… just like I do now."

Although she tried to hide it remarkably well, I could see the anger in Eighteen's eyes as she shot a menacing glare behind me. "Speed it up, Gohan; if you don't spit it out, you'll be dead in ten seconds."

I took a deep breath. It really was now or never.

"Let… me join you."

I wanted to apologize to everyone I'd ever known or fought for in that moment. It disgusted me to my very core and brought me back to reality when I saw the androids' eyes widen in surprise. But I was too far in with this plan. If I didn't keep going, my mother, Trunks, and Bulma were all certain to be killed in an even more violent fashion than the androids had already considered.

"…If I was going to beat you, I'd have done it years ago," I choked out, spitting up blood on Seventeen's sneaker. "And I just can't do it anymore. I can't just rest up again to throw myself into another battle with you both. I can't keep fighting for people I don't even know."

I felt like throwing up. Honestly, I did. There were so many more different ways I could've phrased this, yet those were the words that decided to come out of my mouth. I knew I was going to hate myself going into this, but the self-loathing I felt in that very moment went beyond anything I could've ever imagined.

What's worse is that I didn't stop. This new, twisted side of me that had just been shown the light of day began to snatch my entire conscience and play with it like a cat would its yarn.

"And… in some sick way, I feel closer to you than I do the rest of the world," I coughed out. "I know what you find entertaining, and I know what makes you tick. All of my teenage years have been spent trying to understand why you love causing all this destruction.

"But it's just not possible anymore. I… I have to know… what makes you love your lives so much." I struggled to my knees, trying desperately to remain still as the androids sized me up with emotionless stares. "Please… make me one of you."

Eighteen was the first to respond. She spat at my feet. "You're pitiful, Gohan. I had more respect for you than that—I figured you'd at least try to crawl away or even off yourself before completely surrendering."

As I'd hoped, Seventeen was the one to consider this more intensely. "We've beaten you down more times than we can count… and yet you want to live with us." He closed his eyes and chuckled. "That sounds like some Vegeta-like drivel, minus the pride."

"I swear it… you can kill me at any point you… want to if… you think I'm lying…" I offered, feeling any self-worth I had left evaporate into the skies above. "I'm… not one of them… I'm not just a human…"

"A goody-two-shoes like you would ruin our style," Eighteen almost dryly remarked. "We're not exactly law-abiding citizens."

There it was—the bait I'd been waiting for.

"Would someone like that do something like this?"

I sprang up and kissed her, my lips making contact with hers for half a second before she realized what was going on and brought her fist into my stomach at full force. Gasping, I dropped to the ground on my back and howled in pain for what felt like years on end.

Even over my own roars of pain and Eighteen's livid curses, I could hear Seventeen laugh and remark, "yeah, I'm sold, the guy's serious. Welcome to the gang, Gohan."

That certainly cut Eighteen off from her string of foul-mouthed language and caused her to whirl her head toward her brother. "You're actually joking, aren't you?"

"Hey, the dude had the balls to kiss you. Name one guy who'd do that." Seventeen laughed when Eighteen remained silent, but I could tell it was for reasons that neither of us could identify. "So Gohan, as long as you realize your place and that we're not gonna quit killing, you're in. It a deal?"

Although I was groaning on the outside, I was grinning on the inside. Although I'd sold my soul to the devil, by doing so, I knew what I could get out of it. "You… bet…" I hissed out before everything went black.

We stood there for several long minutes, staring at his unconscious form. Seventeen was the first to break the silence.

"You think he's really legit?" All that bravado had gone away as the heat of the moment died down, and it was only now that he was attempting to realize his rashness. "I mean, the guy really could've been spouting off something crazy. When he wakes up, he might go back to that preach-filled style of his and try to fight us again."

I shook my head. "I doubt it. I think he finally saw his death in the face and grew scared."

"Humans. Such irrational creatures," my brother chuckles. "Even Gohan, being half-human, is as crazy as the rest of them."

"You're right," I concede, "but we've never actually had someone submit to us before. I say we test this out, see where it goes… who knows, maybe this could actually be a bit of fun."

"Sis?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just playing you. I had to get you on board with this whole thing."

For the second time in what was only minutes, my face flushed in embarrassment and anger. Only this time, I don't actually have the strength to kill the guy who did it. "I hate you, Seventeen."

"You know you love me," he immaturely, yet slyly, responded. "Now, c'mon. Let's get the big guy up and to our new home. Besides, I'm sure you're eager to test out your new boy toy."

I brushed off his last remark, but it was obvious he was right. Gohan would be mine in the physical sense. If he was really going to be a destroyer like my brother and I, I was going to make the most of it. Human men, once they caught wind of who I was, were too scared and whiny. Gohan would be different.

But a small side of me also knew why I agreed to this idiotic experiment.

I needed a friend. A friend to enjoy destroying with. Someone who my brother could hang out with and drive cars with, but also be willing to watch as I modeled outfits(because the world knows that my brother tried to burn holes in everything I picked out). Someone who I didn't always have to be angry toward, other than my brother.

Wait… is that what defined a boyfriend?

A half-smile overcame my face as I lugged one of Gohan's arms over my shoulder, watching my brother do the same. If Gohan really was that much of a coward to avoid his own death, fine by me. I knew I could rebuild him. The personal benefits to doing that were glaringly obvious now that I bothered to look for them.

Besides, it'd make killing his friends all that much better if the last thing they saw was their hero kissing me.

"Brother?"

"Yeah?" I lazily called from the couch, not taking my eyes off one of the few television stations that were actually still running. I'd have gone and nuked some of the stations already if it wasn't such a good distraction.

"I'm heading out. With Gohan out of our hair as an enemy, I'm free to do as much shopping as I want. I'll be back by tonight."

"M'kay," I threw my hand over the couch and absentmindedly waved, sinking my mind back into the television program as I heard the door shut. It's some cop show, but all the fun action stuff was over… and now the criminal was begging to not be put in jail. He offered money, women, anything to the officer, but he didn't get jack.

Kinda like what Gohan did. He was the outlaw in the world my sister and I created. But instead of booking him like we did the others, I let him join our ranks.

And by the time Gohan realizes what life is really like on our side, he'll realize what he's been fighting for was a bunch of pre-written, heroic bullshit.

I wrote this in two damn hours after being hit with inspiration from Maroon 5's Maps. I'd be impressed if any of you figured out how I was inspired by that song specifically, considering how obtuse I consider the reference to be.

But anyway! This is my newest one-shot. Although, truth be told, I might turn this into a short story considering the potential that brims from a piece like this. I really tried to make Gohan's submittal to the androids seem realistic—I could genuinely see either Gohan or Trunks being so worn down by their lives that they'd walk down this path. I elected to write this story with Gohan because I feel that he brings a sense of resistance to the role, one which you'll see bubble to the surface in later chapters. Although he seems like a coward in this chapter(something of which Eighteen even notes), Gohan's point of view dictates that he really does hate what he's saying—but that there's a small part of him that really does harbor grudges toward being the lone warrior in this desolate future.

I hope that you also enjoyed the inner motives behind Seventeen and Eighteen's decision to accept him into their 'family' as well. I wanted to make either android still view Gohan as a pawn in separate, yet similar ways. Seventeen is attempting to salvage the rest of the Earth and maximize his enjoyment by corrupting Gohan, while Eighteen is out to make her ideal companion and further destroy the rest of the human race. I re-watched all the content involving the future androids and tried to consider the best reasons for them to approve of Gohan.

I've been intentionally vague about Gohan's plans throughout all this. That's intentional—I wanted to leave this open-ended to the reader. I want people to question if he's truly lost his drive to protect, something at which I hinted at with Bulma's distrust and a few lines of spite throughout his current life in general.

I decided to write this in first person because I wanted it to better reflect the characters present, which I didn't feel I could do properly in third person format. I also wanted to challenge myself as a writer to do something different while immersing myself in three characters I love. I really felt like I connected with the story more since I wrote it in first person, and considering this is a story more built off raw emotion and minimal fighting, I deemed the first person idea an appropriate decision.

So, that's about it. Sorry for the rambling, but I always like to get into the details of why I write things as I do. Hope you enjoyed!