The Multiverse is a fickle, malleable thing. Every conceivable outcome to a situation, every single decision ever made could change the tides of an entire universe. Some of these differences are almost imperceptible in the grand scheme of things, but some are much more drastic.
There was one figure that often stood at the epicenter of these drastic changes in the multiverse. Trunks, son of Vegeta, and last surviving member of the Saiyan's royal lineage. Perhaps the most vital moment of Trunks's development into the hero he would become was the tragic death of his mentor, Son Gohan, Earth's mightiest hero. Gohan's death was the final stroke, the shattering point of all the rage he held. The bubbling, fervent rage that had been building for all of his life in retaliation to the scourge that was the androids. It flooded out in a display of pure golden brilliance, quaking the earth, evaporating the rain. Trunks sobbed, and he screamed, and he drew blood from his own clenched fists.
You see, in all of his mournful fury, Trunks missed one very important detail. A detail that would change his future in a way he would never have imagined. Shaky, dull, and almost nonexistent, Trunks missed the beat of Gohan's heart.
Trunks's immaculate display of the Saiyan's legendary power drained him of all energy, and his spent body collapsed forth. That was enough. As his body fell heavy upon his Mentor's own, Gohan's eyes snapped open and he viewed the world in full. His lungs quivered and Gohan drew breath once more, inhaling the oxygen he never thought he'd feel flow into him again.
He took a long moment to adjust to the environment he found himself in. The aching roar of his body barely enabled him to feel the weight of his student collapsed upon him. Barely did he feel the relentless onslaught of Peppertown's thunderstorm, the cold rain nothing to his already soaked bones. Barely even did he feel alive, every breath he drew like death's rattle.
There were a few things Gohan did feel. He felt determined. He still clung to life and with that life he swore to the gods he'd see those androids shattered and bent. He felt pride. Pride in his student. In those brief moments of consciousness before he was roused, Gohan felt Trunks's saiyan spirit thrive. Most of all, like any true Saiyan, Gohan felt himself filled with rage. Those smug, robotic pricks had stolen his father, mentor, friends, and were draining the life from their world like a parasite. Enough was enough. Earth once again held the might of two Super Saiyans, and as powerful as they may be, not even the androids were infallible.
Gohan's muscles screamed as he flipped onto his back. Trunks rolled off of him like a ragdoll, his face squelching against the wet pavement.
"Rrrrrraaaahhhhh!" Gohan roared as he forced himself to sit up and gaze upon the ruins of Peppertown. It was just like West City now, crumbled buildings and upturned pavement. Overturned cars and scorched earth. The worst of it all was the eerie lack of life. The androids never left the bodies of civilians. He didn't know what they did with them. He didn't want to. To his knowledge, the only reason they'd left his body was as an example to Trunks and any other would be heroes.
It was another city he wasn't strong enough to save. So many more lives lost because he just wasn't strong enough. He had to be better.
Gohan hauled himself off of the ground letting loose a jumbled mess of grunts and curses in the process. His head spun and the rush of blood was like a crashing wave that echoed in his skull. He shook and he stumbled, but he stood and he stepped.
"Hey, Trunks, time to wake up," Gohan grumbled to the unconscious teenager, nudging him with his foot. Trunks made no show of regaining consciousness. Gohan sighed a deep, heavy sigh, and through a great effort he managed to haul the boy over his shoulder. The man trekked through the rain, and it was going to be a long walk.
There was something Gohan felt in that moment. More than pain, pride, rage, or determination. Burning and bright like a fiery beacon. It filled him, became him, drove him with every aching step he took. He felt something that would become a staple to himself, Trunks, and all the allies they would garner. Gohan radiated hope.
3 Years Later
Trunks skittered along the concrete floor of Capsule Corps' makeshift training room. They had relocated to a sort of bunker below the original Capsule Corp in hope that the androids wouldn't think to look there, and it had been working for the past few years.
The teenager gathered his bearings and hopped back to his feet, entering a fighting stance once more. On the other side of his room Gohan stood, resolute and stone faced. He was donned in his same old modified turtle school gi that had been patched and sewn back together. His arms were crossed, in place of the arm stolen from him was a shining grayish-silver replacement. A prosthetic replacement that was made by Bulma using scrap metal from King Cold's dilapidated ship. It was wired directly to his nervous system allowing for just as fast a response time as one made of flesh.
"Trunks!" Gohan called, a hint of disappointment in his tone, "You have to know that there are times to block, and there are times to dodge," He instructed. Trunks rubbed a hand over his quickly bruising forearm, a scowl on his face. "That was a time to dodge."
"You mean when someone hits you with an arm made of metal?" Trunks huffed. Gohan grinned, a small smile creeping across his face.
"When someone hits you really hard with a metal arm, yes," He replied smugly. Trunks rubbed his temples and took a seat on the ground.
"Do you think we're strong enough, Gohan? Do you think we ever will be?" He asked, looking up doubtfully at the ceiling. Gohan sighed and strolled over to where his student sat and squatted next to him.
"Well, we'll never truly know until we win, right? And we can't win unless we fight. I know you know these things, Trunks," Gohan said. Trunks gritted his teeth and lowered his eyes.
"I know! It's just... so frustrating not being able to do anything, not being able to help all the people suffering out there," He growled with clenched fists and fierce eyes.
"Trust me, kid, it anyone knows how you feel it's me. Besides, if Bulma's plan works we won't have to worry about gettings strong enough to beat the androids," Gohan assured. Trunks nodded.
Bulma's plan sounded mad to the common man. Of course, no plan was mad enough to the genius scientist. The idea was to travel back in time to the day that Son Goku returned to Earth. They would warn the past warriors of the coming threat, giving them ample time to train for what was coming. They would also warn Goku of his terminal disease, and provide him with the cure. The entire plan hinged on him being around for the fight. After that they would travel to the day of the androids arrival and ensure that they would be defeated. The hope was that they would stand no chance against a prepared group that had four Super Saiyans among them. If all went well it would change the timeline entirely, and none of the horrors of the androids would grace their world.
Gohan grabbed Trunks by the back of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
"Come on, let's go see how it's coming along," He said, entering the dimly lit halls of the facility. The underground Capsule Corps bunker was functional, but it was not particularly glamorous. Cracked, grey stone walls and occasionally flickering fluorescent lights. Water dripped every so often and the smell was nothing to be behold. Despite it all, it kept them safe. There was a multitude of rooms for the survivors they'd found, a kitchen, an infirmary, and of course all but essential to Bulma, a lab.
The 'lab' was currently a mess, however. Not that it ever wasn't, but with the time machine project it was cranked up to eleven. At the center of the room was the machine itself. Golden and cylindrical with four legs that held it aloft, capped with a glass dome. A plethora of wires ran across the floor to power it.
Bulma currently had a panel whipped open and was fiddling with some of the machinery inside of it. Next to her stood a hulking figure with a countenance akin to that of Frankenstein's monster. He was Android 8. He liked them to call him Eighter. Gohan had found him and his friend, Suno, in the ruins of Jingle Village. They were the only two survivors. It wasn't a night Gohan could easily forget. It's hard to forget what bloodstained snow looks like.
"Eighter this wrench is too small, can you hand me one that's a size larger?" Bulma asked the mechanical man. Eighter delicately grabbed the said wrench and placed it in her hand. Suno sat in the corner of the room working on some sort coiled mechanism. Bulma was delighted in having more helping hands around the compound. Trunks and Gohan were both intelligent young men, but due to the power they held they weren't particularly great at working on delicate machinery.
"What's the status, mom?" Trunks asked as he wiped sweat away from his forehead. Bulma turned towards the two of them and made a repugnant face that was evident even through the safety goggles.
"Trunks, sweetie, you smell awful," Bulma replied, earning a giggle from Suno. Trunks smiled sheepishly. "But to answer your question, son, we're nearing completion. This baby should be up and running within the week!" The scientist exclaimed, giving the side of the machine a hearty smack.
"Achilles, heel!" A light voice called from the corridors, followed by a loud bark and the echoed scratching of claws against the stone floors. A moment later a dog abound in a mass of black and brown fur rushed in and came to an abrupt stop. Behind the dog, Achilles, stumbled she who was attached to the leash, Son Chi-Chi.
She looked at her son with tired eyes. They'd been tired for quite a while now, ever since her husband succumbed to disease. Her bundled hair was riddled with strands of gray and she no longer stood with the proud elegance of a noble. By technicality she was the Queen of Fire Mountain. Queen of a province that no longer existed. It had burned, along with her father, courtesy of the twins.
"Son, I know you like naming pets after tragic Greek figures, but the pun is a little much," Chi-Chi sighed. Gohan smiled fondly at his mother. He had finally convinced her to come with him to the bunker a few years ago. It was only a matter of time before the androids realized they'd left someone important to him alive.
Chi-Chi dropped the leash, allowing Achilles to scamper between Trunks's legs and runs around him. She reached a hand to her son's hair. He hadn't cut it in the past years, and it fell to his shoulders in wild, saiyan fashion.
"Are you sure you don't want a haircut, son? Doesn't it get in the way when you're training?" The former warrior princess asked, softly stroking her son's hair. Gohan gently grabbed his mother's hand and pulled it away.
"No, mom, the hair's fine. If it gets too long maybe I'll put it up like yours," Gohan joked, earning a chuckle from Chi-Chi.
"You know I tried to do that for your father once. I used four bands to make it stay put and they all snapped!" Chi-Chi laughed, gesticulating the snapping motion, "I don't think your saiyan hair can quite be tamed like that, son," She admitted.
"It'll be fine. Maybe the tall, spiky golden hair will intimidate enemies more," Gohan said, earning an eye roll from Trunks who was currently sitting down and scratching Achilles ears.
"*KKKRZZT* H-help! Can anyone hear me? My name is *KKKKRRAZZZT* and I'm currently pinned *KKKRRZZT* -e androids in Orange Star City! PLE- *KKRRRZZT*" A radio on the other side of the room exploded to life. A knowing look passed between Gohan and Trunks. They had to fight. They had to try even if it meant saving that one life.
A knowing look passed between Chi-Chi and Bulma. There wasn't a single thing they could do to stop their boys from going out and risking their lives. As much as they wanted them to be as safe as possible, those boys would never let themselves forget if they just let the helpless die without even giving an effort to save them.
"We'll be back as soon as possible," Trunks told his mother, determination burning fierce in his eyes. Her eyes. The same determination that drove her all those years ago. She sighed and nodded.
"At least put on a jacket!" She yelled. It was to no avail. They were both gone already, leaving but the swirling of blueprints in the air at the wake of their departure.
"Put me down!" A woman choked out, her feet kicking at the air. She tore and clawed at the hand wrapped around her throat, giving all of her strength to free herself. It was for naught. Her strength amounted to nothing against that of her assailant.
"Do you always have to play with them, 17?" Asked the woman standing behind him, her voice grating with annoyance. Android 17 turned his head to look at his sister, sneering. He slowly tightened his grip giving Android 18 a 'What're you gonna do about it?' look.
"What, and just leave her groaning and moaning like Mr. Far Past His Glory Days over there?" Android 17 remarked. About ten feet behind Android 18 a man did indeed moan and groan. His right shoulder had been impaled on a steel rod, and his left leg had been ripped right off leaving a gruesome mess of severed tendons and cracked bone all caked in red.
"Yeah but I'm not slowly killing him, nature is," She shrugged.
"Fine, I'll finish her off if that-" Android 17's reply was cut off as a longsword embedded itself in his arm. The pain was enough for him to drop the woman and give her time to scamper away. An ugly mixture of oil and blood began to seep from the wound, staining the android's white undershirt. Android 17 looked down the blade to the angry blue eyes of its owner.
"You little shit!" Android 17 yelled. He ripped his arm from the blade and went in for a right hook. Trunks managed to swiftly duck under it and sprang backwards a few yards. Android 18 cracked her knuckles and began to rush at the half-saiyan teenager. She didn't notice the metallic arm that swung out in front of her. Her neck collided with metal and her feet flew into the air. Moments later gravity took hold and forced her back to meet the ground.
"What the fuck just hit me?!" Android 18 screamed to her brother.
"Looks like Golden Boy got a new arm!" Android 17 laughed. He rolled up his sleeves, smearing blood and oil up his arm with no regard. He sprinted at Gohan and launched a kick, "How's that arm feel, cold, hard, lifeless?" Gohan raised his metal arm to block the kick, completely halting Android 17's momentum.
"You tell me," Gohan replied. He grabbed the android's leg and slammed him atop his sister. They were both left dazed and scrambling to get up and fight. Gohan surveyed the scene. The woman was fine for the most part. She had some bruises forming around her throat, but as far as he could tell there was no lasting damage.
The man was a different story. The rod hadn't impaled anything vital, so once removed it would be easy enough to clean and stitch up. The shoddy amputation of the leg was a different story. If the man was left like that for too much longer he would bleed out. Gohan couldn't let that happen.
"Trunks, that man isn't going to survive much longer like this! This is not a fight we need to win!" Gohan informed his student. The message was clear enough. They needed a distraction, and Gohan could tell in Trunks's eyes that he had a plan.
Gohan ran over to the heavily injured man and heaved him off of the rod, earning a scream of pain. He tossed him over his shoulder and began to run.
"I know. I'm sorry. You're going to be okay," Gohan assured him. He hopped over the androids and darted behind Trunks. Trunks looked up just in time to see crackling green ball of energy heading directly towards them. The androids were both standing once more, Android 18 with her arm outstretched and her palm crackling with viridescent electricity. He gripped his sword with both hands and carved upwards, meeting the blast head on. It was sliced clean in half, and the two remnants exploded harmlessly off in the distance. Trunks raised his hand and fired off a blast of energy towards Android 17. Said android nonchalantly tilted his head, allowing the ki blast to soar past him.
"Is it just me or has your aim gotten worse over the years, Trunks?" The android mocked. A small grin graced Trunks's lips.
"I wasn't aiming for you," He admitted. Android 17 furrowed his eyebrows. He turned behind him to see where the blast would have struck. There was a cloud of dust and a large amount of debris flying at him. It didn't particularly matter. The stones wouldn't really have any effect on him. That's when Android 18 noticed the large canister of kerosene soaring through the air.
"17, get do-" This time it was Android 18 that was interrupted as Trunks fired off a quick blast that collided with the canister. The androids were overtaken by a fiery explosion. It wouldn't be enough to hurt them, but certainly distract them. Trunks pivoted around and dashed forward to grab the woman. She looked at the explosion in wonder. She wore her raven hair in a braid, and wore tattered black leggings coupled with a pink t-shirt and blue jacket.
"Alright, Gohan this is our chance!" Trunks yelled. Gohan bolted down the street before launching into the sky. Trunks found himself not too far behind him, making sure he had the girl in a secure position for flight.
Gohan was like a hawk through the sky, air rushing past him with a deafening roar. He whipped off his gi's obi and began to wrap it around the amputee's wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. The man softly groaned without even the strength to cry out in pain. Tears leaked from his eyes and his mustachioed lip quivered, his afro like hair flying wildly in the wind. Both his tan cargo pants and brown coat were soaked in still wet crimson blood. It was a sorry sight to see, but Gohan would not let this man die.
The woman stared at the world below her, eyes wide with confusion and fear. She'd held no doubts to the idea that she and her father were about to die at the twins' hands, but here they were. She turned her head slightly to look at the men who had saved her. The one whose arms she was in was giving it his best to keep up with the man carrying her father. It barely even registered that they were flying, flying. That wasn't something people could do, not people that weren't the androids. So many thoughts and emotions ran rampant through her mind, and she wasn't able to express any of them.
After a while they landed at the ruins of the once dome-like Capsule Corporation building. Gohan landed and gave Trunks a curt nod. Trunks set the woman down and held up a finger to symbolize 'just one second'. He looked around to make sure that they hadn't been followed and walked over to a crumbled stone with an iron rod sticking out of it. He grasped the rod and yanked it down like a lever. A low rumbling sound emanated from the floor as a stone panel slid inwards, revealing a dark stairway down below.
Gohan was gone in a matter of seconds, literally flying down the stairs to find medical attention. Trunks gestured towards the stairs, and the woman entered. He followed closely behind, lightly pressing a button on the inside to slide the entrance back into seclusion.
Tons of questions flew around the woman's head that she almost couldn't figure out which to ask first. Trunks interrupted before she could.
"I'm Trunks. The person who took the man you were with is my mentor, Gohan. He probably took him to my mom, she's decent enough at stitching people back together. She's done it to us enough times," Trunks explained. He stuck his hand out, awaiting a handshake. She firmly grasped it and shook his hand.
"I'm Videl. That man was my father, Mark." Videl explained absentmindedly, still trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to ask. "Who are you people, and how are you able to fly, and fight the androids and actually hurt them?!" She interrogated, each question more forceful than the last. Trunks laughed a bit and held his hands up in a yielding motion to get her to slow down.
"You won't believe the entire story all at once, but I'll cut it down for you. Gohan and I are martial artists trained in the usage of ki, a powerful energy that exists inside all living beings. We've been training for years to try and take down the androids, but we're still not strong enough," Trunks explained. He gestured his hands around the facility they were currently walking through, "This is Capsule Corp, formerly owned by my mother and founded by my grandfather. What's left of it, anyway," He said, biting back a bit of venom at the end. Videl looked at him in amazement. She knew about Capsule Corp. Everyone knew about Capsule Corp.
"You're the son of Bulma?" She whispered in disbelief. Trunks simply nodded as he led her further through the corridors. Eventually he led her into an 'infirmary' esque room where her father was laid, unconscious, on a makeshift hospital bed.
"Geeze, Gohan! You've really given me something to work with this time! You know I'm a lot of things. A scientist, an engineer, a mechanic, a mother, but a doctor I am not!" Bulma berated the half-saiyan, flabbergasted. Gohan grimaced and scratched the back of his head.
"Well sorry Bulma, but it's not like anyone else could do any better," Gohan rationalized. He earned a simple huff from Bulma. She began to work on making sure Mark was stabilized, so he at least didn't outright die.
"Keeping this man alive, and the time it will take to work on a prosthetic replacement, is going to set the time machine back. Not too much, but a delay nonetheless," Bulma explained. Gohan clenched his teeth and nodded. He couldn't just let the man suffer. The time machine could wait. Videl looks at Trunks incredulously.
"Time machine?" She asked, trying not to scream the words like a mad woman. Trunks smiled and nodded.
"That's my mom for you. If all goes right, we'll have saved the world," The lavender haired teen responded. Videl had been barraged with so much insane information in the past few minutes she felt like she needed to lay down. She took a good look at the man who had saved her father. Gohan was what Trunks had called him. He wore an orange and blue outfit similar to one of the World Tournament Champions her father had talked about before. His concerned face was riddled with small nicks, but the one that stood out the most was the nasty scar that ran across his right eye. She glanced down his muscled form to where his sturdy arms were crossed, a metallic prosthetic laid over the other gruesomely scarred limb.
"That man must have been through hell…" Videl muttered. Trunks caught her words and nodded solemnly in agreement.
"Gohan has arguably suffered the worst out of any of us here, even aside his physical injuries." Trunks explained quietly, "He's the only person that survived the initial attack of the androids. He watched his own mentor, as well as my father, and his closest friends die as he was unable to do anything about it. Not to mention that his own father, the strongest of all of us, succumbed to heart disease before the androids ever even showed their faces. He's been at the forefront of the fight for most of his life," Trunks said, his face a solid mask of silent rage. Videl took it all in quietly. Everyone in this post apocalyptic world the androids had created suffered, but she'd never heard a story quite as heartbreaking as that one.
It had been about a week since the rescue of Mark and Videl. The denizens of the Capsule Corp bunker sat outside of the room where Bulma and Mark were currently fitting him out for his new leg. After a while the door swung open, Mark hobbling out to reveal the shiny new addition. It was a bit bulkier and more plated than the sleek design of Gohan's arm. The reasoning being that the leg was meant for practical use rather than fending off Earth razing threats.
"Look at me sweetheart, I'm like one a 'em Terminator robots in the movies!" Mark exclaimed. Videl giggled into her hand and bounced up to hug her father.
He hugged her back and let out a rakish, rumbling laugh. "Can't keep a professional wrestler like me down for long!" Mark claimed, a chorus of laughter echoing out from the others.
"I'm glad to see you're okay, Mark," Gohan stated, clapping him on the back. Mark looked towards him and gave him a bright grin.
"All thanks to you, pal! I dunno what I'd have done if them damned androids got the best of my Videl! But you came in and saved us!" Mark laughed, "I dunno how I can ever repay you and Miss Bulma here, especially with y'all about to be saving the world and all that jazz!"
"Your wellbeing is payment enough, Mark. Now all we need is to fix the machine and set everything right," Gohan explained, determined. Videl walked forwards and enveloped Gohan in a tight hug. Startled, all Gohan could manage to do was raise a hand and softly pat her on the head.
"Thank you so much, Gohan," She said, tears slowly beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. He smiled and finally returned the embrace.
"Now all I need to do is make sure the time machine us one hundred percent ready," Bulma claimed, "It's pretty much finished, but I don't want to risk hurling you two to your doom in the unknown mass of the time-space continuum," Bulma said offhandedly. Gohan and Trunks gave each other worried looks. Bulma simply waved the comment off, "Of course that won't happen with me on the job," She assured.
"I suppose we should go ahead and get ready," Trunks suggested. The time machine had been finished against the odds, and they were set to leave today. They decided Gohan would need to change his outfit up a bit. The familiar orange and blue would be a bit too obvious for the Z-Fighters not to be suspicious.
Gohan instead wore a gi with a deep purple colouration, the hue almost navy. His midsection was tied off with a crimson obi, and he wore no undershirt. The plethora of scars that ran along his chest and arm became visible to the eye. The legs of his gi ran off into ankle length grays socks and black shoes.
Trunks was never one for martial arts outfits. He was never truly trained in a school of martial arts, and he could fight just fine in normal clothes. He opted for a pair of dark gray pants held up by a light brown leather belt. A black tank top was tucked into his pants, and over that he wore a short Capsule Corporation jacket that was of a similar color to Gohan's gi. He pulled on his yellow boots and strapped the sword that was gifted to him upon his back.
Trunks lifted a small capsule between his fingers, the cure to Goku's heart disease. He tucked it safely away into one of his jacket's pockets. He followed Gohan into the lab where the rest of their friends were waiting. Bulma tatted away at her computer, double checking every possible variable to make sure the time bending contraption was unable to do anything but what they wanted. The clacking stopped. Bulma looked up. She nodded slowly at the warrior duo.
Gohan and Trunks climbed over the side of the machine and seated themselves. Mark let out a roar of triumphant laughter.
"You make you show them past droids what's for!" The mustachioed man exclaimed. The room shared a hearty chuckle at the man's antics.
"We'll make sure to do just that, Mark," Trunks told the man. Videl walked up to the time machine.
"Gohan!" She exclaimed, garnering the man's attention. "I don't know how this whole time travel thing is going to go down. I don't know if the whole timeline will reset and our meeting will have never happened." She said, nervously looking off to the side, "But if after all this is over, if you still remember me...I want you to teach me how to fly!" She exclaimed, her fists clenched tightly and a blazing look of determination locked in her eyes. Gohan smiled softly, something he didn't do too often these days.
"Videl, I would be delighted to teach you how to fly," Gohan replied. Bulma clapped her hands together.
"Alright, boys. Time to go!" The lavender haired woman shouted. She held up five fingers. The glass dome atop the machine closed. A finger went down. Eighter pulled a cable out of the machine. Yet another finger. The machine loudly whirred as it powered up. One more finger fell. Trunks tapped away at the buttons in the machine, setting coordinates. A single finger was held aloft. Gohan pressed a button. Bulma's hand curved to make a zero shape. With that the air suddenly became hazy and refractory, and the time machine vanished.
The heroes had started their journey.
So, here we are, years after I updated the original. I believe my writing skills have improved, and I figured out what direction I'm really going with this story. So, having said that, I decided to do a complete overhaul of the story. I'll be leaving the old one up, marked in the title as such, but will continue to rewrite up until the point where I left off the last one and continue from there. Some parts will be similar, some will be majorly different, such as these upcoming chapters. Bear with me.