The Sorrow Of Love:
Everything Can go so wrong
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Chapter Eight-A missing piece
As the large creature started walking across the hall, Trunks heard a deep booming laugh. Trunks decided to hide the rabbit. It was very serene at the moment, conflicting greatly with Trunks' emotions. The bunny fit perfectly in a niche under the broken table. As he heard the thing get closer, he tried to power up. He tried reaching his second level again, hoping to be able to take enough care not to blow everything up.
But he couldn't even do that even if he didn't care not to destroy everything within a 50-foot radius. He couldn't concentrate. A certain blonde kept popping into his mind, flitting about it like a spirit who only wishes to be seen when it scares you. He couldn't pull it. His hair flashed between purple and gold as the ghosts of the past haunted him, seemingly berating him for his inability to fight. His pupils were twin pools of darkness and electricity coursed throughout his body, sometimes discharging at random points outside it. Almost randomly he tried to remember Gohan and at some of these times his hair would fly up, but slowly droop down again, as if not willing.
This never happened before. It was like an innate ability. It was inborn with the Saiyan. It was easier, when he had turned before. Gohan was gone. It was as simple as that. And then his hair flared up and his eyes turned that special color, and his power increased. More so when Bulma was gone...
His hair flared up and his eyes flashed. He would complete this. Complete it or die trying. His muscles contracted and relaxed so many times he was convinced he was having spasms. He dropped onto his hands and knees to compensate this. No one experienced this before. Bulma would've told him. It was gone. He was empty again. His muscles throbbed in pain in sync with his head. What was going on? It was in his blood. Goku never had a problem changing, and neither did Vegeta either, Trunks wagered. And if Gohan had trouble with it, Trunks would eat his foot. It was riding a bike. You couldn't forget. It just couldn't be right. How did he do it before? He just though of Bulma and Gohan and let the energy pull itself out. Was the energy gone? It couldn't be. He still felt the pull. And it reached throughout him, getting to every nerve and cell. He tried amplifying it like Gohan taught him, but Trunks simply couldn't do it.
He quit. He failed. There was no excuse, and no euphemisms. On his hands and knees, like a dog, he started crying in shame. The tears swept down his coarse soot-stricken face, leaving a trail of clear skin as they rolled through. He had failed. He couldn't even save himself this time. All those people. Dead, lifeless like Gohan, some with their eyes staring yet not staring and others without eyes at all. Like Bulma. Yamcha. Like both Tien and Choatzu. They stood no chance, but tried helping as they could. All of the Z warriors. Gone. The innocent and not-so-innocent people of the world. Gone. Every one of them dying in vain. Trunks pounded the cement floor, tears flowing now. The pavement cracked and his hand bled from so many repetitions. He felt weak and frail. As the tears descended, they formed a pool on the floor, mixing with the blood and the chemicals spilled there.
The pain in his head increased. He buried his face in his hands. He new he couldn't fight this new threat. He just wouldn't be able to concentrate. It was like a dam, stopping the energy from getting from in his heart to his very able body. The throbbing reached a climax and Trunks submitted to the eternal darkness that greeted him. For the third time that day, he blacked out.
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Eighteen was feeling refreshed. As soon as she stepped out of her bath she dried her sweet smelling hair. She changed into her new clothes. She was wearing a lavender choker around her neck, and had a periwinkle blue shirt with a flower stamped on. The shirt had a low neck and was short-sleeved, and showed her navel. She was also wearing loose-fitting jeans that were deep blue.
This time she consulted the building map and saw that she could take a direct route to the living room, where, she assumed, Rob was waiting for her.
It just so happened that he was. As he sat the biscuits on the table, he glanced over to the picture standing on the table. It was a snapshot of their track meet. They were fast enough to advance, but they were by no means popular. They were their own little group. It had a silly name, but they didn't much care. The flying four they called themselves. Mostly fashioned after Rob's desire to fly. He remembered wistfully the friendship they had. They all had little money; they could only go to the community college. When they were eight, they promised each other that they would be best friends forever. It was rough in high school, but they pulled through. They were happily in the second year of college when it happened. Joy majored in something dealing with child-care, hoping to become an employee at a nursery school, and her brother Jon wanted to teach. They wanted to put into society what they never had at home: A caring environment. Rob wanted to take something that would bring him as close as airplanes as possible, so he took aviation mechanics, but then later switched to TV production, because he couldn't handle all the new concepts about planes. Kate wasn't always practical, so she took fashion design. It seemed to have worked for her. His eyes watered when they seemed to have disappeared. Almost immediately afterward, the red ribbon army took over searching for some magic orange ball that was reported in the area.
His eyes started to tear, but he blinked and they disappeared. Was she the same? Was she different? Which would he be happier with? He interrupted his thoughts as she entered the room, look at various odds and ends. She floated down into her seat and they stared at each other. Neither of them wanted to mention Eighteen's mistake. Rob admitted that Eighteen did not know and therefore nit was not her fault. He also admitted that he always wanted to fly, but he realized that such a guilty pleasure came at a high price. He couldn't believe he would now outlive Kate by at least 20 years. He tried to avoid the subject when he said, "So where've you been?"
He winced. Bad topic. He tried to correct it when Eighteen replied, "I'd rather not discuss the issue, if that's fine with you." Rob nodded. "What about you? Where've you been?"
Rob nodded almost to vehemently and regaled his stories with Eighteen, mostly after she disappeared, but he also reminisced a little with her too. More often than not, Eighteen had to correct Rob's memory of things. Right now he was talking about his and Kate's eventual marriage.
"... and I guess after it all happened we grew to depend on each other for support even if it was only for two years. We married because we felt a companionship no one else had with us. We love each other, and I would certainly die... for... her..." at this point, he began to tear, "but I guess we never really found true love. I think we were too close in the beginning for that" He said finally after an hour of stories. He was frankly tuckered out.
"What time does Kate get home?"
"What? Oh. She gets home every day at 4:32 every day at around 45 seconds. Starting to get annoying," He said as Eighteen laughed. She checked her clock to find the time. It was indeed 4:29:52, but as she searched her program for the clock she stumbled upon a different digit-counter. This one was counting down. Down towards... she followed the wiring. It was an odd way of saying it, because she was merely checking on/off switches in her body but it was basically the same. It seemed to lead to a silicon chip near her core supply. It's on/off wires were set to... they were set to a bomb. That's what it was. It was a bomb. The realization stunned her. She was going to die. The immortal android was going to die. She was going to die in five short hours.
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A/N: CLIFFIE!!!!!! Yes, me friends I believe I have finally managed to bring a cliffhanger into this desperately hanging plot! MWA HA HA HA HA! Take that loyal (and not so loyal) fans! Oh and Victorbot, be nice to a-non-ey mouse, she only wanted to beat you in reviews first. Anyway, at the most recent count, I found out that I had thirty(I'm really good at math if you can't tell)! Yay! I'm not threatening reviews over chapters, because I will still upload if you flame me or something like that. I only need a few more chappies and I'm done. Like... 5 more. At this rate, I'll get closer to 60 reviews than 45! Thanks a lot, guys! Just remember to keep it up! You've inspired me to write more!