Disclaimer: Dragon ball Z and all affiliated characters belong to their creator, and quite possibly some other people I don't know about as well. The original chara's and the AU world are mine, naturally, and so is the plot line.
Warnings: Violence. Probably some curse words. Angst. Possibly some typos. Last chapter before the Epilogue.
Losing Innocence
by Taes
Book II
Chapter 7For a few moments, all Trunks could do was stare, blinking in amazement at where the light had been. In his heart, he'd known there would come a day when he'd face the androids on their terms, not his, and on that day they would all decide the fate of a planet. He hadn't consciously guessed it'd be here, but he knew he'd fight them, one way or another. Perhaps it was pessimism that told him this, but all the time he'd been here, he'd been expecting something like this to happen for a long, long time.
What he hadn't expected was his mother to be anywhere near the battlefield.
Neither, apparently, had the androids.
Trunks, however, didn't notice this, and glared angrily at the only two, in his mind, who could possibly be responsible for bringing his family here. They seemed to expect this, and as a result, their expressions were schooled into those of mild amusement, and some small amount of pride. "Wouldn't want your dear mother to wonder about you forever," Eighteen purred, a mocking smile upon her face.
"…after all, there should be somebody left to burry you, hmm?" Seventeen finished, laughing outright at the expression Trunks wore. Not even bothering to reply to that statement, Trunks prepared an all out assault that would hopefully distract the androids enough to give his friends and mother the time they needed to get out.
Under the cover of many, many chi blasts, and speaking low enough so that his words wouldn't carry far, Trunks manually hooked the appropriate wires back together with one hand as the other directed energy attacks. He was well on his guard, but if one of the twins tried to sneak up on him, it wasn't likely that he'd be able to protect himself well. Fortunately, the headpiece had retained minimal damage, and he had everything he needed directly at his disposal, so it only took a few minutes of fumbling around to get the thing working.
"Alex, Fred, Elizabeth, and Michael, I need help," he murmured, hoping they'd be able to understand what he said. "You may not have noticed," he began dryly, "but there's been another rift," he heard amused laughter through the earpieces, and thought he heard a few muttered affirmations before there was silence again. "…and there's a blue…uh…ship looking thing hovering about three kilos to my right. I need you four, Alex, Michael, Fred and Elizabeth," he was giving them orders, but there was a distinctive warning in his voice, "to escort her out of here as discretely as you can." Naturally, there were more protests, but not wanting to waste any more time, Trunks pushed on, not heeding their cries. "I want three teams here, understood? And you're all going to be moving chaotically at suicidal speeds so that they'll hopefully not notice when four of you leave." It was time to change tactics.
Unfortunately, before he could begin suggestions for how they could go about that, the twins got tired of long distance fire, and Trunks soon found he was aiming at empty space. Trunks wheeled about in surprise, trying not to let the confusion he felt show on his face, and hoping to Kami that his mother would survive this. Even as he tried to come up with some sort of defensive tactics, Alex's voice poured over the radio. The kid was shouting questions at Trunks even as the four suits made his way towards his mother. He may not have been happy about it, but he'd do as Trunks asked, even without an explanation. Loyalty is a wonderful thing, Trunks found himself thinking. Alex, on the other hand, was not in the least bit satisfied. "Can't you explain why this is important?" he complained.
Growling in frustration, Trunks continued to search for the androids. "She's my mother, all right? She can help fix the damn suits if you just get her out of here!" he hissed, just in time to see a huge pillar of smoke rise from the mountain of rubble behind him, covering everything in a thick cloud of dust that made it impossible to see.
He'd seen this before…
"Peek-a-boo," the rich alto voice from above could only be one person, and even as he swung into a defensive posture, the sense of being alone came back to him. She was gone, but her laughter followed him all about this nightmare, and it was all he could do to keep moving. He remembered clearly now, they'd pulled this same maneuver on him once before, in an abandoned warehouse with hundreds of places to hide. They'd scared him badly, though he didn't like to admit it even now.
Her laughter followed him even as he tried to find cover, mingling with the echo of their mirth, sending Trunks into a whirlwind of confusion. It was as if they surrounded him, like they were impossibly in tens of places at once, mocking him, cornering him exactly as they had then. Angered by these tactics and more than willing to take his frustration out on the cause, Trunks tried desperately to keep his fear under control and to maintain a steady mind while they played some twisted form of hide-and-go-seek. Every now and again, a voice, a phrase, would come from behind or above, sending him into a frenzy as he tried to locate the source and attack it.
But they'd done this before, and though many times Trunks cursed his tendency to analyze every mistake he'd made, he could use that to his advantage. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say, and all those times he'd thought of what he could have done to them to turn this to his gain floated to the surface of his mind now.
They were stuck in the cloud too, and their taunts could very well lead him to them.
Every noise they made would sound like beacons in the night, and without his sight, he would have to rely on this guide even more, which would heighten it to new extremes. And he knew for a fact that while the androids' senses had been enhanced, they weren't nearly as good as a Saiyajin's could be.
"Nobody say a word," Trunks cautioned, knowing that every time he spoke, or his headpiece did, the androids would have a chance of finding him, and his plan needed every element of surprise he could get. "If this doesn't work, I'm good as dead…" he warned, hoping they understood the severity of this. "You may want to wait until the dust clears, or until we get out of here before you do anything." he paused, and listened. Nothing. They were probably listening to him.. Trunks tried not to sigh. Damn. Now they know I'm up to something. "If you're leaving, do so now."
Amused laugher met that remark, and out of the debris, a face loomed down at him, devoid of the light that complimented his features, Seventeen looked like a pale ghoul, a mockery of life. "Ever the hero," he sneered, and faded from view, slowly seeming to melt into the fog as he backed away. Trunks smiled. They always had loved to talk.
This just might work.
Everything he'd ever been taught by Gohan, his mother, and life itself, told him this plan was most likely the stupidest thing he'd ever done. So his instincts told him it was exactly w hat he needed.
"Trying to save you friends." Eighteen laughed quietly to herself, and the echo bounced off sharp pieces of rubble time and time again before fading even from his ears. There. Trunks aimed, and fired. Startled laughter met his ears, as he'd expected. They just don't get it… Trunks mused, more than willing to let them think he was getting angry, and therefore out of control. Being thought of as predictable could very well give him an edge. Seventeen and Eighteen would be waiting for him to slip up and give into his anger, but today, they were wrong.
Following that voice, Trunks aimed one stream of fire after another at the increasingly amused android, intentionally missing just in case. It wouldn't do for them to discover how he found them. Then they must might shut up, unlikely though that seemed. So he needed to keep them off their guard.
Breathing steadily, Trunks waited, patiently finding energy within himself the way Gohan had shown him, letting all emotions fade away as he focused, intent on his targets and the surroundings, aware of everything and singling nothing out. Piccolo had taught Trunks' teacher enough useful information to keep even the most ornery of pre-teens motivated and busy, and everything the green skinned Namek had given Gohan, the Son child had gifted Trunks.
Fortunately or not, Trunks had never really used all of it. He'd always focused more on the tactics Gohan had given him, changing those just enough to give the androids something new, but always following the 'rules' they knew he'd play by. Well.
There were no rules today.
Time and time again, they moved about in random directions, taunting him with their words and revealing their location. To Trunks, it was all happening in the same instant, and each event bled into another in such a way that it became impossible to truly know how long it'd been since their last move. Time became inconsequential, and he concentrated to the best of his ability on keeping them on their feet and uneasy.
They spun around him now, Trunks knew, and he did his best to keep track of their actual bodies, ignoring the 'ghosts' that loomed around him, despite the familiarity of the scene. Once again, he'd seen it all before, though the androids could not have known he'd dreamt of this. The one difference between this smoke laden atmosphere and his dream was that here there were copies of two people only, not friends and family he'd come to know, and neither twin hungered for his death as those things had. They laughed at him, cruel and mocking, their smiles bright as sunlight on snow.
Trunks smiled, and began to prepare.
Without warning he fired, just as the twins began to pick up speed. They stopped their murmurs of ghostly phrases, meant to put him on edge, and laid to rest their tales of torture and death, crying out in surprise and annoyance. Trunks laughed now, knowing they were blasted far enough out of the smoke to be plunged into daylight while he remained here. If they wanted to play this game, he'd more than willingly comply.
"Well, looks like the kitten has got fangs after all," Seventeen called to his sister, more amused than chagrined.
Eighteen shrugged, adding from an altogether different direction, "And claws."
Her twin sighed dramatically, and somehow Trunks knew the android was not alone any longer. Eyes widening in surprise, Trunks had tried to move out of the way as a wave of energy began to form. "Come out, come out…wherever you are…" the tenor cajoled, laughter filling every word. He was helpless to do anything as the energy they'd amassed soared toward him with remarkable speed, casting the dust aside and flinging him into the face of a building. Trunks moaned in dismay as his vision faded, knowing it'd be some time before he woke up.
Alex…you'd better bring them to safety…*****
"Get your hands off me!" the surprisingly strong, irritated woman demanded. Throughout the entire flight there, they'd chased and wheedled her into moving as quickly as her 'ship' would allow, using a combination of scare tactics and dramatics to get her safely out of the vicinity. Naturally, they hadn't the time for idle conversations, and this person, supposedly Trunks' mother, had absolutely no idea what was goin on, thereby becoming violent, to say the least.
At last, the four teenagers released their grip on the struggling woman safely deposited in the hangar, where she hopefully would be unable to get out. Alex frowned with annoyance, rolling his eyes. "If you'd just calm down, we'd be able to explain a few things!" he glared at her, completely oblivious to the deadly promise lingering in her eyes.
Elizabeth smiled gently, and took off her helmet. Naturally, they didn't bother wearing the cumbersome things normally, but in outdated suits like the ones they'd been using, it was almost necessary. "Hi," she greeted, shouldering the three boys aside. "We're friends of your son, Trunks." She began, much to Alex's extreme annoyance. Bulma calmed down a little, interest lighting in her blue eyes.
Bulma straightened her suit with one hand in perfect ease, and with the other she fixed her hair, all in the space of a moment. Feeling more prepared, and thus more confident, she looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes, ignoring the boys completely. "And why would my son tell you people to kidnap me?" she demanded, distrust shining clearly in her bright eyes.
Fuming, Alex paced from one end of the room to the next, altogether unwilling to stay still or help in any way with this 'orientation.' In his mind, they didn't have time to do any of this, and whatever they wasted here, they weren't likely to get back in the battlefield.
"He didn't. And we didn't." he complained, uninterested in the look Bulma gave him.
She snorted. "So what do you call that, huh? An armed escort?!" every bit of temper Trunks had shown flickered now in her voice as she screeched most ungracefully at them, uncomfortably reminding all present of typhoons and other disastrous storms. Noting that none of them was going to answer that question, Bulma sighed with irritation, not in the least happy. And then she noticed the suits.
There was a complete transformation in her appearance and attitude. From the look on her face, those colossal machines did not only entrance her, they softened her completely, and from the way she examined them, she recognized some of the pieces that made up the puzzle. Her hands strayed towards the work table, pitifully bare in comparison to what most scientists were accustomed to working with, but to Bulma, it was just enough. There was a programming pen like she'd used while teaching her son, and in the suits, doubled over and laid open for better access, she saw the intricate details only one person could have made. "Trunks did this," she murmured, walking towards the things with a wavering step. Her hands traced the mechanisms, and absently she began to connect the wires and rearrange what dangling pieces there were.
Amused, the three boys exchanged glances, noting the same scientific dedication in this bizarre young woman were perceptible in Trunks. Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah. He designed and made every one of them…nearly from scrap. There's one for each of us, too. It's really impressive when you think about it; he's made suits that fit each of us as well as our own skin."
Touching the hand of the suit she'd been looking at, Bulma noted the features and the simple, yet so familiar color scheme. "Goku." She whispered, and bit her lip in a mixture of confusion and emotions too unbearable to show. At the unusual display of regret and hope, the teenagers exchanged glances once again. "You people pilot these?" she asked simply, looking from one suit to the next with undisguised interest.
"Yeah," Fred replied, smiling somewhat.
Bulma sighed, pulling on a pair of thick gloves and picked up the programming pen. "I'll have these fixed for you in an hour," she promised, and set to work.
The four teens looked at one another dubiously, but shrugged, certain that 'one hour' would stretch into an unusually long time. Trunks may have been able to fix one suit in that long, provided it was in some manner of working condition to start with, but not ten. True, work had already been done, but there was simply too much for a single person to fix in that period.
So, for the time being, they argued among themselves about their course of action, unsure of what to do. Something told them they shouldn't leave quite yet, but impatient as ever, Alex wanted to be out of there, certain they could help win the fight they knew to be going on. Over the radio, they heard little, occasionally murmured voices of the androids, but not once did they hear Trunks call on them, or one of their comrades. It was eerily quiet.
They'd gathered around the little transmitter now as they had earlier that day, and just as before, they were not willing to sit around and do nothing. Time passed without their realizing it, and through the maze of indecipherable clamor, they began to piece together exactly what was happening. So, when the radio picked something up that could only be an explosion of huge proportions, they all stopped, and even the quiet sounds of machines being fixed ceased.
And then, they heard a voice that chilled them to the bone, despite the civility and good-natured charm heard throughout the connection. "Good evening, all," Seventeen began, a smile in his voice. "I'd like you to know that the thick, ominous clouds you've been seeing today appear to have cleared up." With a healthy amount of amusement he chuckled, and seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts. "There's no chance of showers, though we may be experiencing electrical storms or even earthquakes later on tonight." With the flippant air of one announcing clear , sunny skies, he continued, speaking with the characteristic lilt and strangely monotonous accent all news reporters seem to share. "I'd like to warn our listeners that it's gotten very dangerous outside, and we've had more than a few complaints of injuries due to the unusual weather. For your own safety, I suggest you congregate in huge masses to make better targets for whatever's causing this. Be sure to create mass mayhem to better promote panic, fear and doubt in whatever savior may arise." He laughed, and cleared his throat, taking on the 'sophisticated' tone of late night radio hosts, though he couldn't entirely get rid of the amusement in his voice. "Thank you for tuning in to station one-hundred-point-seventeen, and have a nice day."
With that, the transmission abruptly ended, leaving everyone staring in mute horror at the receiver.
Michael grabbed the transmitter. "Someone explain the situation!" he demanded, speaking unusually quickly for someone of his temper.
One hesitant voice answered, "Guys, stay aware…they've disappeared." That could only be Nora. Only she could relate those grim events so calmly. "Trunks, too. He vanished when they threw him into a building. Don't leave the premises, they're most likely coming your way, possibly after you guys or his mother. Be prepared." She cut off then, and without any hints of the other groups' positions, much less their course of action, the four teens looked more than a little startled.
"What the hell was that--that--" Alex floundered for words, and pounded the table in frustration. "Radio broadcast! How'd they tap into our system?"
Rob sighed. "They didn't. they just took the one Trunks had…probably after he, uh, landed." His voice carried an air of bewilderment. "Those two were moving too fast for us to see, guys. They could be anywhere…"
Anywhere…In Bulma's experience, 'anywhere' when dealing with the androids usually meant 'soon to be here, terrorizing me and my family.' She cleared her throat.
"Kids, something tells me we're going to be having company. Why don't you help me make the place presentable?" she suggested, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. For their part, they just stared at her. Bulma fumed. "They're coming here, you idiots!" she screeched.
The pilots were beginning to see where Trunks got his temper, and short tolerance for failure or misunderstanding.
Seething with frustration, she took one long breath, and sighed deeply. "Okay. Listen, kids. I'm sorry I yelled…" she didn't sound the least bit sorry. "I've just gotten off the most earsplitting ride anyone's ever taken to get here, and I find my son's half dead with exhaustion." She picked up speed as she went on, but her voice remained surprisingly subdued, compared to the hysterics she'd expressed earlier. "You people kidnap me before I get a single word with him, and then I get to work with these…machines…that with the right operators, could very well destroy any world they came across." She looked both admiring and annoyed at that statement. "The two things that have murdered every one of my friends and brought my home to ruin have apparently left my son for dead, and for all I know, that's exactly what he is. You'll have to pardon my temper."
Polite applause met her little speech, and before anyone could react, a voice cut through the sudden silence. "Very well done, Ms. Briefs." Eighteen congratulated, her rich alto filling the space entirely. Seventeen nodded his agreement, half bowing towards Bulma to show his appreciation. Between them, they held one limp, decidedly unmoving figure with skin as white as bone.
"Yes, I especially liked the bit about murdering," Seventeen added, smirking. Bulma had gone pale, her eyes trained on the body supported only by these cruel beings of undeniable beauty.
Eighteen smiled, noting where the woman gazed. "Oh, I almost forgot." She looked at her brother, and the smile that never quite touched her eyes deepened. "We brought you something."
Amusement filled Seventeen's face, cruel and malicious as he was. "A gift." He clarified, and his eyes focused on Bulma.
"Hope you like it," Eighteen laughed, and dropped the body to the floor.
With that, they were gone.
Bulma stared at the limp figure, heart in her eyes as she ran forward, pushing through the teenagers with remarkable ease. She checked the pulse, and listened for breathing while searching for any sign of injury that would prevent her from moving hi. Though a few things had changed, Bulma recognized her son when she saw him, and her grief was unimaginable. "Oh, Trunks…" she breathed, dimly staring at the place where the androids had been, only moments before. "What the hell did you do to him?!" she demanded, knowing that if the androids heard her, they wouldn't bother to answer.
Trunks, whom she'd thought to be unconscious, stirred at her voice. "Didn't…" he coughed, opening his eyes. "My fault."
Bulma looked as if she weren't sure if she should cry or strangle him. "Are you protecting them?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"No. I'm fine." He searched her face for some form of forgiveness, and in his mother's eyes, he found it, though she lacked the understanding he needed her to have. "Water?" he asked piteously, and Elizabeth, kind Elizabeth, brought him two pitchers full, with the other three behind her, carrying similar burdens. Trunks nearly laughed with relief. Instead, he simply took one from her, murmuring a 'thank you' for courtesy's sake. As soon as he felt refreshed enough to continue, he met his mother's plaintive gaze. "I can't explain now, but…"
Bulma sighed, and put one cool hand on his forehead. "You went back."
Uncomfortable, Trunks looked down. "Yeah."
Upset, and grieving for the innocence her son had lost in his journey for understanding, Bulma wished she had better prepared him for the pain, suffering and heartache that came with the warrior's ways. "Tell me what you need to, and we'll worry about the rest after this is dealt with."
Her smile was all he needed to forget the tragedy he'd experienced, at least for the moment, and he gladly told her of his plan. Throughout it all, she listened attentively, not interrupting, not even with questions until she was certain he was done. "We're going to need more parts than I've got on hand…more than we could get in months." He shook his head; resigning himself to a way of life he'd lived for quite some time. With luck, they could get them soon, without the mess he'd anticipated, and without losing any more lives.
Bulma smiled wryly, amused at his choice of words. How many times had she said something similar? And how often had he revealed a stepping stone to shorten the journey? Too many to count, she decided, and left it at that. "We could use my ship." She suggested, blue eyes wide and confident.
Trunks was taken aback, not comprehending for a few moments. "What…?"
Laughing at the expression, Bulma grinned, happy to contribute even a little to the plan that had begun to take shape. "We can take my ship apart, and use what's there." She said, practical as ever. "I built it based on the chasm the androids disappeared from, with a few things in common with the time machine." She winked. "Man made universe-hopper, at your service, Trunks." Shrugging almost lazily, she continued. "It has everything we'd need. After all, I'm the one who built the damned thing, so if it didn't, I'd be the first to know." She grinned cheerily at him.
"No." Trunks rejected the idea almost immediately, shaking his head vehemently. "I don't know if this is going to work. If it doesn't, you and the others need to get out of here."
Bulma frowned, annoyed. "Trunks, listen, I know you might not like it, but it's my machine! If I want to tear it into scrap, that's my decision." She glowered. "Not yours."
Sighing, Trunks shook his head. "The time machine's broken, Mom. Your ship could very well be the only way you get back home alive."
Bulma snorted. Her son was trying to scare her with the prospect of death, when she faced it nearly every day. That was certainly something she would never have imagined. "Sweetie, I know you want your friends to be safe as much as you want me to be, and I can honor that. But you have to remember, you don't decide what we are not to do!" she breathed a frustrated sigh, trying to regain the calm she'd almost achieved earlier. "If it works, we won't have to worry about how long we stay here. We can live on this planet for a few years, or however long it takes until we get the supplies we need to send us home. This is what matters." She shook her head. "I thought you knew that."
Pain flashed in her son's eyes, and for a moment, Bulma thought she saw something lingering there, like a sadness that had never before existed in him.
"Mom…" he looked pleadingly at her, trying to get her to see why he needed her to be safe. But if she didn't see, then what more could he do than what he'd been doing already?
Someone cleared their throat, distracting the feuding two just long enough for the speaker to interrupt. "Use my suit. I'm sure it has everything you could need…"
Trunks stared. "No. You can't--"
Annoyance flared in the youth's dark eyes, and for a moment, Bulma thought he looked similar to one arrogant, foolhardy prince she'd once known. "Don't give me any of your bullshit, Trunks. You may be our 'leader' of sorts, but you do not have dominion over my decisions quite yet." He tried to smile to lessen the sting his words brought on, but the anger was too strong in is blood. "So sit down, shut up, and let us do our jobs." He grinned.
Trunks had to laugh. Alex had undoubtedly been waiting to say that for quite some time. "We need you at your best," he warned.
Alex snorted. "You know I'm a good enough pilot to be able to do my job no matter what suit I'm handling." She shrugged easily, but there was doubt in the way he held himself. Right now, he needed reassurance, not criticism. "And I'm a hell of a lot more stubborn than you are when I really want what I'm after." He added, rather unnecessarily.
Bulma looked at him skeptically. "You're sure you want to do this."
Rolling his eyes, Alex nodded. "Of course I am."
Nodding her approval, Bulma smiled at the young man. "Right then. We'll get to work right away,"
Trunks bit his lip. "Sorry, Mom, but I can't give you much help." He murmured, and fished a capsule out of his pocket. Bulma raised an eyebrow, and waited expectantly, not the slightest bit phased by the resulting 'explosion' a the others were. She looked even more surprised than they at the contents of the capsule, not having expected the colossal filing cabinet that nearly overflowed with papers. Trunks walked across the room, certainty in his steps as he selected a few tiny papers from the near-avalanche. Her eyes lit with interest when she noted the small, cramped writing alongside the diagrams that could only be one thing…
"Blueprints?" she grinned like a child at Christmas after opening an unexpected, surprise present filled with everything she could have asked for, but hadn't. Trunks smiled, and the stars in his eyes sparkled with amusement. He nodded, and handed the majority of them over.
"These are the ones I eventually went with," he murmured, handing her the two sheets he'd withheld. "Remember those designs Gohan and I came up with?" he gestured to a small space on the paper, and her smile widened in wonder. "You might be able to use the others, but…" he shrugged. "I made notes on the side as to why I didn't use the sloppy copies."
Peering over their shoulders, Alex snorted. "Notes? You mean those tiny little dust specks are words?"
Bulma laughed before turning to her less than amused son. "So what will you be doing that'll keep you from translating these 'dust specks' for me?" his eyes strayed towards the hatch, and it was then that the pilots realized how the androids had gotten in. It had been ripped off without so much as a sound, suggesting that they'd opened it with the greatest of ease. "Oh…" Bulma decided she was better off not knowing.
"I'll be distracting them." He said, simply enough.
Fred grinned. "Yeah. Seeing that none of us are scientific geniuses, and about as likely to do as much harm as good we'll be off as well." He winked. "Distracting evil androids, ya know."
Rolling his eyes, Alex nodded. "Yeah. That and if you keep me locked up in here for any longer, I'll take back my gift and get outa here on my own." He trailed off, suggesting that he intended no such thing.
Trunks sighed. This was going to be one long day…
*****
"My, my, my, you seem to be sweating profusely. Is that a sign of exertion, fatigue, or a long lost desire to start your own water company?" Eighteen quipped, seemingly amused at the pitiable attempts Trunks had been making.
"We've only been fighting for a few hours, buddy boy," Seventeen noted, laughing at Trunks' irritated expression. "You've gotten soft." Manifesting behind the boy, he took hold of his arms in such a way that twisted the bones just short of breaking, and had Trunks screaming for release even as he attempted to murder the twin who held him so. "Didn't Gohan teach you better than that?" he chided, tsking quietly.
Trunks growled, exasperated beyond measure. They'd been fighting all day, and even with his friends to back him up, all this was more than enough to pull what energy Trunks had out of him. He was being sure to keep in contact with them, mainly by the makeshift radio his mother had supplied him with, but it was more than just the physical strain that had him gasping for breath. Fighting for control of his arms, he threw his weight against Seventeen, hoping to distract him long enough to gain release, or at the very least, the opportunity for such. This was not the case, however, and his efforts were frustrated when Seventeen merely changed positions, easing the slight discomfort Trunks had been causing against his wrists, and successfully putting the demi-Saiyajin back in place.
Now it seemed there was nothing for it but waiting, and hoping the androids would tire of this game and release him.
Eighteen smiled scornfully. "Oh, poor little lostling… doesn't know what to do or where to go without Mummy, Daddy, and teacher…"
Trunks seethed, and in a moment's desperation, called forth the energy needed to create a blast more bright than powerful. It was a reflection of the sun, as brilliant and beautiful as could be, but with clouds, debris, and the utterly poor atmosphere this planet sported, it was more annoying than painful, and served only to irritate his captor.
"Ouch. Somebody get a medic…" Seventeen murmured dryly. "I think I've gone blind." Eighteen snorted in amusement, obviously in agreement with her twin at this point. The only one who'd managed to pull that little stunt off to its true potential was the three eyed freak, not his friends, though they all tried a multitude of tactics, including that one, before finally succumbing to their might. It rather amused them to see Trunks trying something his predecessors had counted on so greatly, only to have found it was no use.
The air around them shimmered for a moment, and before they could do much of anything, those damned pilots launched yet another attack that stank of Saiyajin influence. Startled and annoyed, Seventeen was forced to either destroy every suit and cost them a few 'playmates' or release Trunks to safely bat them aside. The only reason those pilots weren't ash was because of the pathetic amount of trust the half-Saiyajin placed in them. If there was one thing the androids knew regarding the annoyingly persistent race, it was to keep their loved ones alive; kill them, and you had an angry, defiant force to be reckoned with, usually possessing little or no self restraint when it came to preserving their lives. And that kind of fighter was much more difficult to beat, mock, and otherwise dishearten than Trunks was on a normal basis.
No, it was generally a good idea to keep the little worm's friends alive and prevent that little…disaster…from happening.
Instead, he released the boy, and swirled Trunks out of the way as the suits flung past him, the pilots, unable to turn around fast enough to keep up, were perfectly capable of making certain they didn't crash. Trunks, on the other hand, though severely weakened by the fighting of the day, was more than competent enough to catch up, and that's exactly what he did.
"Why do you even bother?" Seventeen was just pulling his strings now, knowing full well why the idiotic young man put up with humans. It was in his nature; like the one before him, Trunks was brought up to be honorable, giving, and merciful. To the androids, it was an utter and complete waste of potential. "These humans, these pilots' combined force isn't even enough to match your pathetic teacher."
Trunks felt himself stiffening unconsciously, painfully aware of how Gohan's battle had ended.
"And you know what happened when you tried to help him," Eighteen smiled patiently, waiting for the boy's defenses to come up as they always did. He would push for combat to preserve Gohan's honor, they knew, and when he did so, he was as good as a man fighting blind.
Her twin mimicked her expression, borrowing the air of an ancient teacher spent too much time bestowing gifts of lessons upon students to really think about what learning meant, and how it could be interpreted. "What do you think will happen to these…creatures, when you couldn't even help him?"
No. Not this time… Trunks thought, trying to separate himself from the pain he felt, even now, after all this time, at Gohan's loss. You won't make me lose because of him! That…wouldn't make him happy.
Today, it seemed, was a day for surprises and acting out as he never would have before. He was using tactics, all of them new, ones his adversaries had never seen before, ones he'd learned from his father, and the teachers of his trainer. Remembering the little sparring sessions he'd had in times of peace, Trunks could begin to fight on a whole new level. Those times, he knew, built the resistance of a warrior, and it was that more than anything else that gave the Z-Fighters strength. He would take their lessons, but would do so with caution, remembering their downfalls as much as their triumphs.
Out of many, one.
Easily feigning rage, he flung himself at Seventeen, assuming the state of awareness he had earlier, fully sensitive of everything on the battlefield down to the smallest gnat. He felt his companions' presence as he'd never done before, and thus was able to work with them in new ways, all while restraining himself to keep from upsetting the ruse he'd taken so much time to put into place. Here, he could fight to the full extent his abilities allowed him, and because of his enhanced senses, he was able to achieve these techniques with minimal effort and strength.
He cornered one at a time, forcing the singular android to fight him without back up. Though he knew the were perfectly able to kill him this way, he knew they wouldn't, and it was possible that the sudden lack of assistance could put them off guard, and cause them to make more mistakes than they ought to have. While he busied one, the pilots kept charge of the other, not allowing them to do anything without murdering one of their numbers.
There was nothing to do but to fight, so fight he did, wasting time away even now as the sun began to sink into the horizon, creating a blazing sunset unlike any Trunks had seen from home.
Suddenly, he was left fighting air, simultaneously punching the empty space even as he pulled his body to a stop. Wrenched so jarringly out of his near meditative frame of mind, Trunks had to force himself to think and search for the threat that had to be coming. It found him long before he caught sight of either twin, and he was roughly pulled into a position that limited his sight and reach. Before he could gain control, he was thrown aside too quickly and too hard for him to catch himself.
He landed not on the ground, not even in the side of a cliff. Strong, wiry arms caught him, and dazed, he looked up just in time to see cold, icy blue eyes boring into his. Laughing, Eighteen forced him into the air once more, calling, "Seventeen, catch."
And so this wild game continued, with one twin open, despite the pilots' gallant endeavors. With each passing toss, Trunks became more and more disoriented, and gained even less of a chance of freeing himself. It seemed useless to try anything, but his conscience urged him on, taking the voice of his father.
And you call yourself a Saiyajin.
"Stop this!" he demanded, half to himself, and half to the twins that so tormented him. No matter what he did, it seemed, he was never good enough. Always one step behind. It was maddening. Out of frustration, anger and sadness he'd barely known existed, he managed to collect the energy he needed, finding an untapped source form which he created a massive way just strong enough to counter the force he'd acquired, and successfully stunning the twin he'd nearly collided with.
Seventeen smiled at his sister, seemingly amused that it'd taken Trunks that long to figure out so simple a maneuver. "Heh." He noted, as if there was something to be gathered from that.
Shrugging nonchalantly, Eighteen rolled her eyes. "What more can we expect?"
What more can I do?They were as one, and for an instant, it seemed they were more than two monsters, something else altogether, and not the childish brats who'd long ago decided he was their new toy. It was like seeing an angel from the stories people had told him while he was here, the beings were as terrifying and awe inspiring as they were beautiful and radiant, filling everything around them with a sense of fear and dread. They had no wings, but the halo that surrounded them was more than a simple golden band, it was an aura that filled the sky and made even the bright day dark in comparison. It was terrible and beautiful as a star gone nova, and somehow more than that.
And this time, Trunks knew it was no fluke…this was no cheap imitation of the attack that had left his mentor dead. It was the real thing, and in no way did Trunks want to see first hand what it would do. They'd given up their games, and now, as beads of perspiration formed on each brow, the androids began to form the basis of the power Trunks had constructed to destroy the universe.
He knew what that meant. What it would do to him and everyone in the vicinity, save the twins themselves. They'd die quickly, if they were merciful, but never had he known them to be that. More likely they'd die after an eternity's agony, with nothing left but the dim memory of pain as their spirits fled this plane of existence.
And he knew…
He knew there was no way to stop such a wave once it was set in motion.
Nowhere to run.
Not in the middle of nothing.
Nowhere to hide.
Not here.
Trapped…oh Kami, they planned this!
And Trunks knew despair as he had not known her sense since he dreamed of the universe's end, and felt the eyes, the heart and soul of every universe, turn on him.
Nothing. He could do absolutely nothing…
And then, a body intercepted the two, shattering the intense focus required for such an impressive force, and knocking the twins out of place. For a moment, Trunks stared, unable to believe his eyes. From the midst of shadow, one suit had emerged, a small, simple thing with nothing special about it. But it was enough, and the damage that could have bee done was set aside.
His mind numb, Trunks watched in mute horror as the androids regained their balance, and with one hand, Seventeen restrained the armored warrior. There was complete and utter silence as the next few moments played out, and the eyes of the half Saiyajin went dark, showing not what was to be, or had already come to pass.
They shone dully, as only the present may, a dim mirror in which all things are trapped forever more.
With one blow, the machine broke in two, and with the sight his forefathers had possessed, the young man Saw everything. The resulting fires reflected in his eyes, and on that obsidian surface death knew no name.
And then, they fell.
These two, these androids who'd triumphed in the ruin of all, they collapsed like dolls.
All at the command of one small devise, seven and a half by eighteen centimeters, with a width of one and a half, in which the fate of the world lay. Bulma had activated the remote control.
And their eyes, electric, ice blue eyes, spoke no more of amusement, promised pain, or suffering. They were dead to the world as they fell, hitting the ground heavily, helpless to stop their descent.
For a moment, there was complete silence, broken only by the static of the transmitters as someone began to cry.
But for Trunks, there was only silence.
*****
tbc…
The epilogue should be done by Friday, January 31st.
Thanks go out to Raen, Janice, Tamy, and Kolinshar Jackie-chan Benito.Raen, thank you for pointing out typos! *Hugs* Meghan says 'thank you' by the way. All three of us have read these bits entirely too much for comfort…so we skipped the final re-reading. *Sheepish* and yep, you're consistent, intelligent and entertaining to boot!
Janice: *grins* well, no, that chapter Taise and Meghan wrote out, I just had to suffer through their handwriting. *winks* this one, however, I was stuck copying most of. It's frustrating and time consuming…Why thank you. I take much time and consideration with the fight scenes, so I'll take the "long and detailed" bit as a compliment. *Cheesy grin*
Tamy: working on the 'more' part as fast as I can. Thank you for the input!
KB Jackie-chan: thank you for the compliment. *Shrugs* not so much a crossover with GW so much as 'borrowing' a name or two. *Winks* the silly world is probably heavily influenced by GW, but I don't think it qualifies as a crossover...or not. *Shrugs again* I dunno.Questions, comments, concerns, rants and other such reviews are always appreciated.