Disclaimer: Nothing has changed in the past week that granted me the rights to DBZ. Crap.
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Chapter Two: False Hopes
Trunks growled in frustration.
"Damn it!" he spat, eyes sweeping the surrounding landscape.
How had the android gotten away from him?!
He had trained for so long, just for the chance to defeat the monsters who had obliterated his world, his friends, his… everything.
Trunks' eyes clenched shut, memories flashing unbidden before his eyes: fires raging out of control, screams ripping through the air; sadistic laughter surrounding him as he was beaten to a pulp, coughing up blood, struggling for every breath; Gohan's corpse, lying abandoned and desolate in the rain.
The pair had caused so much suffering. Why? What was the purpose of such wonton destruction?
The worst part was that he knew the answer. The androids weren't seeking revenge. They weren't trying to conquer the world. They were playing a sick, twisted game.
Trunks hated them with every fiber of his being. They haunted his dreams, taunting him. Especially the male android, Seventeen. He seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure from maiming Trunks. As Trunks lay panting and bleeding on the ground, Seventeen would smirk.
"What's wrong, little Saiyan? Too tired to get up and play?"
His foot connected with Trunks' ribs, emitting a cracking sound as the ribs snapped. Despite himself, Trunks screamed in pain.
"Well, how sad. They would all be so disappointed in you, Trunks. Especially your father! Imagine his shame at seeing the last Saiyan, his own flesh and blood, lying in the mud completely helpless."
Another kick, this time to the stomach. An odd gurgling sound escaped Trunks' throat. Seventeen knelt down next to Trunks, their faces inches apart. In Seventeen's eyes Trunks could see mild amusement mixed with arrogance. This was what the android lived for.
Seventeen flicked at the lavender strands of hair covering Trunks' face in an almost playful gesture. He was so weak now that he couldn't even maintain his Super Saiyan form.
The next words were spoken as a whisper, delivered in a deceptively kind and caring tone. "What about your friend? The one with the dark hair that you used to run around with. Oh, what was his name again?"
Gohan! His name was Gohan!
The android sighed. "Whatever. It's not like it's important."
Die.
"You know it's your fault he's dead, right?" said Seventeen conversationally. "I mean, he couldn't defeat us, but he'd still be alive if he hadn't been so concerned with protecting you."
These words echoed through Trunks' mind as unconsciousness overtook him. The worst part was that Trunks believed them. It really was his own fault that Gohan was dead.
And he had let the bastard escape.
Trunks howled, energy radiating outward in all directions. "Come out and fight me, damn it! Are you just going to run away and hide now that you're outclassed?"
That was a stupid question. Of course the android would flee. He had no pride or honor binding him to the fight. He would turn his tail and run away. He would…
Honestly, Trunks had no idea what Seventeen would do. The only aspect of his personality that Trunks had ever known was his desire to kill. However, the android clearly had some sense of self-preservation, so he wouldn't try that again in a hurry.
So where would he go? How could Trunks find him? Because the android had no discernible ki, it would be nearly impossible to find him if he stayed under the radar.
Drifting slowly to the ground, Trunks pondered his options. He could wait until the android did something to expose himself. No, that could take years. Plus, the android was immortal while Trunks was not. Seventeen undoubtedly knew this. If it came down to a waiting game, Trunks was destined to lose.
What else? He had no way to find his prey.
Prey. He rolled the word around on his tongue, loving the feeling of power it elicited. No longer would he have to live in fear, wondering how many people would die that day. No longer would he look around and see nothing but destruction. No longer would he have to watch his mother walk out the door and wonder if she would come back alive.
He smiled softly when he thought of his mother. The years had been rough on her. All of the youth and vigor that he vaguely remembered from his childhood had drained away as she watched her friends and family die, leaving behind only despair and bitterness.
Maybe she would be happy again once he caught the other android. Trunks doubted that all the years of sorrow would be swept away with such ease, but he could hope.
Bulma Briefs was a brilliant scientist. No doubt she would play a large role in the reconstruction of the world. Perhaps that would bring her solace. Trunks knew, however, that she had wanted to play a more personal role in the defeat of the androids. She didn't understand that his new power was all because of her. Without her, he would have given up the day Gohan had died.
There would have been nothing left to fight for.
A thought struck him. Maybe there was something else his mother could do. With her knowledge and innovation, she could probably create some sort of device for tracking down the android. It would take some time, but it was better than waiting for Seventeen to slip up and make his presence known.
This happy possibility in mind, Trunks took off, feeling more cheerful than he had in years. He was so close to freeing his home from the threat that had plagued them throughout his entire life. Soon, the world would start to heal until the androids were merely a nightmare caught in the past.
His life would be better, too. He could travel the world, seeing extraordinary places like his mother had when she was younger. Trunks, who had missed out on a real childhood, dreamed of adventures and mysteries beyond his home.
Maybe he could travel through space! If Bulma could send him to New Namek, perhaps he could find a new guardian for Earth, like Goku had in the other past. A new guardian meant new Dragon Balls, which meant that he could be granted a wish. He could bring everyone back: Goku, his father, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, and the countless others whose lives had been lost needlessly!
Trunks was so wrapped up in the web of opportunities that he failed to notice as he approached his home. Indeed, he only snapped back to reality when he saw a blinding flash of light.
Blinking his eyes to clear away the spots, Trunks approached the area where he guessed the flash had originated from. It was only an empty field, one he had passed hundreds of times.
How strange. He couldn't shake the feeling that the flash was important, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Trunks arrived home, noting with displeasure that the door was unlocked. He was always telling his mother how unsafe that was! He laughed at his own folly. While the world had been plagued by murderous cyborgs, he had been worried about robbers.
"Mom, are you home?" Trunks called, shutting the door behind him. No answer. That was not unusual. Chances are, she was either out shopping or caught up in an experiment down in her lab.
Well, it looked like it was up to him to cook dinner. He opened up the cabinets, scanning their meager contents before pulling out a can of some unidentifiable flavor of soup. He dumped it in a pot and set it on the stove to heat up.
That was something else that would change. No more rummaging for supplies and eating less than palatable dishes. As society improved, there would be fresh fruits and vegetables, real meat, and ripe grains. This was perhaps a frivolous pleasure, not as monumental as other future occurrences, but nice to think about nonetheless.
Time to see if his mother was home. He wanted to tell her the news about the androids as well as his plans for the future. He wandered down the stairs towards her lab, his mind on the scents wafting out of the kitchen. His stomach growled, causing him to blush sheepishly.
It made him think of Goku. That man could eat! So could his son, Gohan, as well as Trunks' father, Vegeta. The three of them ate as much in a day as Trunks did in a year. He supposed it was a typical Saiyan characteristic, one that he could never afford himself.
You make due with what you have.
He ran his hand through his hair, seeming much older than his twenty years. Soon it would be over. Soon he could rest.
As he rounded the corner towards his mother's lab, the sight that met him didn't quite register.
He noticed that the door to the lab was open. That was unusual.
He noticed papers scattered across the floor and the table. Not so unusual.
He noticed his mother lying on the ground.
Trunks frowned. How odd. Why would she do something like that? Maybe she had passed out! Trunks approached her with a look of concern on his face.
"Hey, Mom! Are you alright?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He shook her lightly with no response.
Trunks rolled her over onto her back, worried. He froze, his mind unable to process what he saw.
Bulma's eyes were wide open, filled with terror and anger. Her face was ashen, and Trunks could see every line time had left to mar her face.
He took in the sight with numbness. Moving in slow motion, he reached up a hand and shut her eyes. Better. Now he could almost believe that she was asleep.
Almost. People who are asleep normally don't have gigantic holes in their chests. People who are asleep normally have pulses.
How could this have happened? He had protected her throughout all these years, but failed to be there when it really mattered. Why now?! He had defeated the androids! What else could hurt her?!
But that was a lie. Black hair and an orange bandana flashed through his mind. He had escaped. Damn it! Why would he do this? He had already lost, so what would he gain by coming into Trunks' home and killing his mother?!
Revenge? Probably, but Trunks didn't think that was the real reason. Seventeen didn't seem like the type to distinguish between humans. One corpse was as good as the next. He wouldn't risk his life just to kill Bulma, no matter what she was to Trunks. At least not so soon.
Why?! He forced himself to stare at his mother's body. He noticed with sickening curiosity that she had been shot from the front, which meant that the android had been waiting inside of the lab. What business did Seventeen have there?
Trunks focused on the contents of Bulma's bag strewn across the floor. Suddenly, something clicked. The android was looking for something, which meant that his mother was killed just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
That didn't make it any better.
Clearing his mind of all distracting thoughts, he focused on the task at hand: finding that android.
What was missing from the lab? He mentally made a list of his mother's possessions. The multitude of scribblings made it impossible to determine if any were missing. Trunks doubted that Seventeen would steal a piece of paper anyway; it just wasn't his style.
Suddenly he noticed the capsule case lying on the ground, surrounded by a variety of capsules. He quickly glanced over them, assuring himself that they were all accounted for.
So Seventeen hadn't stolen papers, and he hadn't stolen a capsule…
No. He hadn't stolen these capsules. There was one more, but Trunks didn't know where his mother stored it upon his return.
He searched the entire lab. Not finding it there, he steeled himself and searched his mother, hoping that it was merely tucked away in a pocket somewhere.
It wasn't. The android had taken the time machine. That's what that odd flash of light had been. Seventeen had escaped and could now be anywhere, at anytime.
Just when Trunks had thought his victory was certain, he managed to screw it up. He slid slowly to the floor, riddled with self-loathing.
Just perfect.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a long time before Trunks moved from his spot on the floor.
The soup was burning. Not that it mattered. He wasn't hungry anymore.
After dumping the smoldering mess in the trash can, he returned to his mother's corpse. He lifted it tenderly, swaddled it in a blanket, and carried it outside.
The thought of his mother lying in the cold, unforgiving ground made him shudder. He couldn't do it.
Cremation, then. She would have liked that, going out in a blaze of glory. With a quick ki manipulation, he started a fire, standing nearby to ensure that it didn't get out of control.
The flames danced and flickered, reveling in the destruction they caused. Just like the android.
The smoke stung Trunks' eyes.
He didn't cry.
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Thank you for reading! Please review; constructive criticism is always appreciated. I'll update again as soon as possible.
Humbly yours,
Shadow
