Slowly, the dust from the explosion cleared and 17 stood straight, looking at least caught off guard if not surprised. His eyes searched the sky for the cause of the explosion, but I didn't need to guess.
I already knew Trunks was here.
"17! Above you!" I alerted him sharply, tossing aside the sandals and clearing away the broken door to make my way out to the street. He glanced up, seeing nothing, but suddenly spun around, catching the blade of Trunks' sword between his hands, holding his attacker at bay just in front of his face.
"I should have known you'd bother us again," my brother said with a smirk, his look of surprised having vanished from his face. "What took you so long, eh?"
Trunks said nothing, merely using brute force to free his sword from my brother's hold on it, trying to make a hit. "Let's see if you can hold your own tonight, kid!" He let go of the sword, jumping back and disappearing. Trunks recovered quickly, turning just in time to deflect a ki blast from behind, and flying at my brother again, coming at him with a series of strikes and slashes. I looked on, torn between watching and helping my brother. Obviously, if I was to fight that night, I would be on his side.
Trunks had improved, but not much. My brother was keeping him on his toes, randomly attacking to test the lavender-haired boy's speed and skill, knowing also that no, there hadn't been much improvement since their last fight. 17 chuckled darkly as Trunks missed him swipe after slash, duck after dodge, kick after punch. He phased in and out, appearing and reappearing behind Trunks and taking a swing at him, knocking the boy back and forth. It was definitely something 17 loved to do. It was like a little kid playing with his vegetables before having to eat them; seeing how mashed and gross they could become before being forced to consume them. It was only a matter of time until 17 became fed up.
I saw him fist his hands, powering up and flinging energy waves at Trunks, hardly trying to actually hit him; rather, he was trying to wear his attacker out with all the dodging.
I can't say whether I was glad to see Trunks or not. My recent happenings with him--especially the dream I'd had--made my mind process strange thoughts. My eyes followed the two back and forth, feeling their power levels rise and fall. The whole time, our lavender-haired friend remained silent other than his usual pained noises made when 17 struck him from time to time.
"Want a turn, 18?" 17 offered, dodging Trunks' sword over and over, almost laughing. "I don't want to hog all the fun, after all."
I frowned as my brother landed a blow to the boy's shoulder, and in a flash, Trunks' sword had fallen from his hand. Before he could even react, 17 had snatched it in mid-air, clutching it at the hilt and slamming it into Trunks' back, sending him careening into the ground.
With a loud crash, he hit the ground, a large crater forming instantly. 17 landed near the crater, tossing the sword to me. Reaching out and catching it, my frown deepening, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the blade.
"That was hardly a workout." 17 pouted, folding his arms and glancing down into the hole Trunks' body had created on impact. "He barely even hit me. I think it tickled."
"Stop sulking," I grumbled, testing the sword out with a practice swing. "Let's go before he gets back up." It was no wonder Trunks held onto his sword; it was a magnificent weapon, lightweight and perfect for close range combat.
"Not this time, 18," my dark-haired brother wagged a finger at me. "I think it's about high time we finally rid ourselves of this half-saiyan scum."
"17, it's not necessary." I ran a finger along the sword, my hand at the hilt. It was still warm from when Trunks had held it. "Let's just leave."
17 cocked an eyebrow at me. "18, you've been acting peculiar lately."
"And you've been pain in the ass lately, but you don't hear me complaining." I snapped, looking furious. "If I think we should leave, then we should leave."
Keeping his eyes on me, 17 began to gather a large amount of energy in his hand. It glowed and flickered, growing. I gave him a scathing look, but he ignored me, turning to the crater behind him. "17...!" I warned, tightening my grip on the sword in my hand.
The energy in my brother's palm grew, consuming his hand in a flashing light. I could feel his power level rise steadily. I narrowed my eyes, and he glanced back at me. It was as though he thought I was daring him to try it.
"That's the problem with you, 18..." he began, bringing his hands together as the energy grew. "That's why the Doctor trusted me rather than you... He saw your flaws, he saw your weaknesses; he knew they would over power you one day."
There was a muffled moan from below; Trunks had regained consciousness once more.
My eyes seemed to widen in unison with the growth of the energy 17 was creating. "17, listen to me--"
"That's why he built me: to carry out what you could not. To finish what you couldn't bring yourself to do! We're a set, 18; without me, you're nothing but unfinished jobs and incomplete tasks. The Doctor built me to set an example, in hopes that someday you'd overcome your weaknesses rather than succumb to them." 17 clenched his hands, raising the energy above his head, preparing to unleash it.
I couldn't let him finish. I panicked.
You have to believe me.
I never meant to do what I did.
There was a scream, a yell, and a nauseating squelching noise as I leaped forward and lodged the blade of the sword into my brother's side.
It was obvious that I had caught him completely off guard. 17's mouth opened wide, his eyes doing the same, staring at me in shock. He stumbled a bit, the energy he'd been about to use fading away in his hands. I stared straight back at him, refusing to believe what I'd done.
"18--!" he choked, reaching out to me, his hand finding nothing but air as I stumbled back, horrified. "18, what have you--?!"
17 dropped to his knees, his hands groping for sword's handle, fumbling to pull it out. Blood soon coated his fingers, his attempts to rid his side of the sword failing miserably; it was buried to deep for him to dislodge at the rate his energy was draining. He looked up at me again, his expression still one of disbelief. I stood still, merely watching the scene unfold before me. I had struck him in the only weak point an android had. His main circuits, which were built into his side, just below the elbow. I was designed with the same weak points. I knew a blow as great as the one I'd dealt him would surely be fatal.
"17, forgive me..." I breathed, dropping to the ground beside him, not knowing what to do. Pulling the sword out would do nothing at this point. It might have even made the situation worse. "But I couldn't let... you..." I raised my hands to touch him, but he slapped them away with what strength he had left.
"You...traitor..." he managed to cough, trying to stand. I shook my head, no, no, no.
At this point, 17 was holding himself up with a hand against the ground, his remaining hand at the sword's handle, as though he believed he could still remove it and save himself. His motions became awkward and slow as he was forced to use his other hand to help hold him up. He tried to stand, but his body gave out and he collapsed. I watched, numb and frozen as he lay motionless.
It took several moments for me to realize he wasn't getting up.
I sat, my ears ringing and my head swimming as I gazed at his lifeless figure. His head was turned away from me, his arms in strange positions, his legs stretched out on the ground.
My unavoidable misery had reached its peak.
And I had done it to myself.
I already knew Trunks was here.
"17! Above you!" I alerted him sharply, tossing aside the sandals and clearing away the broken door to make my way out to the street. He glanced up, seeing nothing, but suddenly spun around, catching the blade of Trunks' sword between his hands, holding his attacker at bay just in front of his face.
"I should have known you'd bother us again," my brother said with a smirk, his look of surprised having vanished from his face. "What took you so long, eh?"
Trunks said nothing, merely using brute force to free his sword from my brother's hold on it, trying to make a hit. "Let's see if you can hold your own tonight, kid!" He let go of the sword, jumping back and disappearing. Trunks recovered quickly, turning just in time to deflect a ki blast from behind, and flying at my brother again, coming at him with a series of strikes and slashes. I looked on, torn between watching and helping my brother. Obviously, if I was to fight that night, I would be on his side.
Trunks had improved, but not much. My brother was keeping him on his toes, randomly attacking to test the lavender-haired boy's speed and skill, knowing also that no, there hadn't been much improvement since their last fight. 17 chuckled darkly as Trunks missed him swipe after slash, duck after dodge, kick after punch. He phased in and out, appearing and reappearing behind Trunks and taking a swing at him, knocking the boy back and forth. It was definitely something 17 loved to do. It was like a little kid playing with his vegetables before having to eat them; seeing how mashed and gross they could become before being forced to consume them. It was only a matter of time until 17 became fed up.
I saw him fist his hands, powering up and flinging energy waves at Trunks, hardly trying to actually hit him; rather, he was trying to wear his attacker out with all the dodging.
I can't say whether I was glad to see Trunks or not. My recent happenings with him--especially the dream I'd had--made my mind process strange thoughts. My eyes followed the two back and forth, feeling their power levels rise and fall. The whole time, our lavender-haired friend remained silent other than his usual pained noises made when 17 struck him from time to time.
"Want a turn, 18?" 17 offered, dodging Trunks' sword over and over, almost laughing. "I don't want to hog all the fun, after all."
I frowned as my brother landed a blow to the boy's shoulder, and in a flash, Trunks' sword had fallen from his hand. Before he could even react, 17 had snatched it in mid-air, clutching it at the hilt and slamming it into Trunks' back, sending him careening into the ground.
With a loud crash, he hit the ground, a large crater forming instantly. 17 landed near the crater, tossing the sword to me. Reaching out and catching it, my frown deepening, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the blade.
"That was hardly a workout." 17 pouted, folding his arms and glancing down into the hole Trunks' body had created on impact. "He barely even hit me. I think it tickled."
"Stop sulking," I grumbled, testing the sword out with a practice swing. "Let's go before he gets back up." It was no wonder Trunks held onto his sword; it was a magnificent weapon, lightweight and perfect for close range combat.
"Not this time, 18," my dark-haired brother wagged a finger at me. "I think it's about high time we finally rid ourselves of this half-saiyan scum."
"17, it's not necessary." I ran a finger along the sword, my hand at the hilt. It was still warm from when Trunks had held it. "Let's just leave."
17 cocked an eyebrow at me. "18, you've been acting peculiar lately."
"And you've been pain in the ass lately, but you don't hear me complaining." I snapped, looking furious. "If I think we should leave, then we should leave."
Keeping his eyes on me, 17 began to gather a large amount of energy in his hand. It glowed and flickered, growing. I gave him a scathing look, but he ignored me, turning to the crater behind him. "17...!" I warned, tightening my grip on the sword in my hand.
The energy in my brother's palm grew, consuming his hand in a flashing light. I could feel his power level rise steadily. I narrowed my eyes, and he glanced back at me. It was as though he thought I was daring him to try it.
"That's the problem with you, 18..." he began, bringing his hands together as the energy grew. "That's why the Doctor trusted me rather than you... He saw your flaws, he saw your weaknesses; he knew they would over power you one day."
There was a muffled moan from below; Trunks had regained consciousness once more.
My eyes seemed to widen in unison with the growth of the energy 17 was creating. "17, listen to me--"
"That's why he built me: to carry out what you could not. To finish what you couldn't bring yourself to do! We're a set, 18; without me, you're nothing but unfinished jobs and incomplete tasks. The Doctor built me to set an example, in hopes that someday you'd overcome your weaknesses rather than succumb to them." 17 clenched his hands, raising the energy above his head, preparing to unleash it.
I couldn't let him finish. I panicked.
You have to believe me.
I never meant to do what I did.
There was a scream, a yell, and a nauseating squelching noise as I leaped forward and lodged the blade of the sword into my brother's side.
It was obvious that I had caught him completely off guard. 17's mouth opened wide, his eyes doing the same, staring at me in shock. He stumbled a bit, the energy he'd been about to use fading away in his hands. I stared straight back at him, refusing to believe what I'd done.
"18--!" he choked, reaching out to me, his hand finding nothing but air as I stumbled back, horrified. "18, what have you--?!"
17 dropped to his knees, his hands groping for sword's handle, fumbling to pull it out. Blood soon coated his fingers, his attempts to rid his side of the sword failing miserably; it was buried to deep for him to dislodge at the rate his energy was draining. He looked up at me again, his expression still one of disbelief. I stood still, merely watching the scene unfold before me. I had struck him in the only weak point an android had. His main circuits, which were built into his side, just below the elbow. I was designed with the same weak points. I knew a blow as great as the one I'd dealt him would surely be fatal.
"17, forgive me..." I breathed, dropping to the ground beside him, not knowing what to do. Pulling the sword out would do nothing at this point. It might have even made the situation worse. "But I couldn't let... you..." I raised my hands to touch him, but he slapped them away with what strength he had left.
"You...traitor..." he managed to cough, trying to stand. I shook my head, no, no, no.
At this point, 17 was holding himself up with a hand against the ground, his remaining hand at the sword's handle, as though he believed he could still remove it and save himself. His motions became awkward and slow as he was forced to use his other hand to help hold him up. He tried to stand, but his body gave out and he collapsed. I watched, numb and frozen as he lay motionless.
It took several moments for me to realize he wasn't getting up.
I sat, my ears ringing and my head swimming as I gazed at his lifeless figure. His head was turned away from me, his arms in strange positions, his legs stretched out on the ground.
My unavoidable misery had reached its peak.
And I had done it to myself.