Masquerade

This chapter is brought to you by Dying Grin and Daughter of Vegeta

Piccolo landed gracefully onto the soft sand as the sun rose over the early morning sky, the grains barely shifting underneath his weight. He strode purposely towards his student. Gohan was dressed simply in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. The raven-haired man looked at the Namekian warily. "What's going on Mr. Piccolo?"

"You sensed it then?"

"Vegeta's seething rage? It would be hard not to," the halfbreed responded.

Piccolo decided not to beat around the bush. "Bulma's been kidnapped?" he answered in a gruff voice.

Gohan's forehead knitted together in worry. "Do we know who did it?"

"No, and they have somehow managed to hide her ki."

Gohan nodded again, deep in thought. "Could she be...dead?" His student forced the last word out like it was a vile substance.

"No, Dende confirmed she had not passed on to the afterlife," Piccolo replied calmly.

The young man sighed with relief before saying, "Every cloud has a silver lining I suppose."

Piccolo's face was grave. "But we have to acknowledge that she will probably die before we locate her. We should gather the Dragon Balls. Do you have a Dragon Radar?"

Gohan was silent for a minute. "There's one in a capsule back in the hotel suite and there's one in my parents house."

"Good."

"Does Vegeta know about this?"

Piccolo locked eyes with the other Z-Fighter. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Hopefully, we won't have to use them."

Gohan begrudgingly moved his head in a slight nodding movement. "Fine, let's go."

The tips of his white boots scuffed at the minerals of sand beneath his feet, sending it into the air before disappearing back onto the ground. Sweat prespired from his widow's peak, dribbling down and webbing into his dark, thick brows. He crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, a permanent scowl tugging at his lips.

Where was the son of a bitch that stole what belonged to him? Who dare lay a hand on his family?

Vegeta's obsidian orbs flickered across the landscape, landing on a small, metropolitan city ahead.

How could Bulma's captor keep her so well hidden? Why could he not sense her?

'The captor must be a scientist,' he settled on, anger filtering through his veins. 'That should not stop me from finding her.'

He was an ex-intergalactic assassin whom had killed millions - trillions even. Nothing interfered with his searches, or his missions. Nothing. Entire planets had cowered at the mere mention of his name.

He, the destroyer of galaxies, needed help.

A searing rage blossomed in his heart, bile rising in the back of his esophagus at the mere thought of requiring help. Was he not capable of finding his family on his own? Was he not enough to protect them?

Disgust welled within him, stirring within his gut before crashing against his chest, causing him to shudder. The problem was - he did need help - and he needed it severely.

A defeated sigh escaped his tawny-colored lips, his eyebrows lowering as his left eye twitched with irritation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh.

The flame-haired prince reopened his eyes, his pitless orbs glancing around the town center he had unconsciously walked to with a frown.

But, the question was…

How am I going to contact that third class peon, Kakarot?

Trunks' eyes locked on a tall mirror across Bra's room, squeezing his sister a little bit tighter as he cringed at his appearance.

Dark circles danced beneath his eyes, sagging as a sign of exhaustion. The frown that tugged at his lips was a semblance of his father's, but the worry in his orbs could not be any more clear.

He had failed to protect his mother, murdered a human in front of his grandparents, and he unwittingly admitted to his sister that their mother was kidnapped.

A heavy sigh racked his body as his eyes casted shamefully casted back down to the carpeted floor below, his shoulders sagging with defeat. Internally, he wanted his mother back, though, he would not voice it. He wanted her to be safe and at home, with the whole family protected by his father.

Trunks grimaced slightly, shaking his head as he bit the inside of his cheek. He was worthless, and he could not protect anyone - nobody but himself.

"Trunksie?" a quiet voice called, aqua eyes taking a peep into the room. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Bra," Trunks sighed, pulling away from his sister slightly, feigning a small smile for her. "I'm okay."

She nodded, wordlessly burrowing her face into his chest, her tears silently cascading down her face.

I'm so sorry, he grimacing as guilt filled within his chest cavity. He ruffled her wispy locks in a brotherly way before pulling her away from his rib cage, grabbing her stuffed animal and giving it to her. Your tears are gone...Just like mother. "You ready to go downstairs and see grandma?"

The small girl frowned, glancing at the tiled flooring beneath them with a trembling lip. "No," she sniffled, wrapping her arms tightly around the plush bunny against her chest. "I want Momma."

Trunks bit his lower lip, exhaling loudly as he lifted Bra off the floor, cradling her in his arms as he began to make his way toward the stairs. "I know," he whispered, patting Bra's back comfortingly. "Father will get her back, I promise."

They descended down the staircase, Bra's sniffles and choked sobs being the only source of noise as they quietly walked into the kitchen where their grandmother was cooking.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, turning toward the siblings with a wide smile, "the meal will be done in just a few moments!"

Turning back to her cooking, the woman tensed slightly with Trunks' presence; knowing full well what he had done, even though it was for their protection.

Noticing the shift in the atmosphere, Trunks frowned as he sat his sister down before crouching down to her eye level.

"Hey," he whispered as Bra avoiding his gaze, tears welling behind her baby blue orbs. "Look at me," he urged quietly, cupping her chin gently to meet her gaze. "Do you trust Father and I?"

Bra released a sniffle, hot tears stinging the irritated rims of her eyelids. "Yes," she admitted quietly, images of her father flashing through her mind. "I trust you and Daddy."

"Good," Trunks whispered, bringing his sister's small fingers to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. His lavender hair fell in front of his eyes as he squeezed her small hands. "I'm going to go join Father, okay? I need you to stay he-"

"No!" Bra cried, bouncing in her seat as she attempted to tug her hands away from her brother's. "I wanna go! I don't wanna stay here - I wanna find Momma!"

Trunks' eyes narrowed, his eyebrows lowering over his intense blue orbs as a serious expression settled on his features. "Bra," he reprimanded quietly, "you need to stay here; where you're safe."

Bra shook her head, refusing to look at her brother as she whispered angrily, "We're not safe anymore."

The lavender haired boy's lips pressed into a thin, white line and he released a heavy exhale through his nostrils. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his sister's forehead, closing his eyes. "I know," he whispered, before pulling away and reopening his eyes. "But, promise me, please stay here."

Bra's downcast gaze on the floor adverted to Trunks' eyes, and she nodded weakly, whispering, "Okay."

Trunks squeezed his sisters small hand gently, before ruffling her hair playfully. He stood from his crouched position, and offered her a small smile before wordlessly exiting the kitchen in hopes of helping their father.

Master Roshi's obnoxious laughter rang out clearly across the small island. Krillin shook his head from side to side, a wry smile plastered across the ex-monk's face. He only had to wait two seconds before he heard a resounding smack. "When will he ever learn," Krillin muttered under his breath as he carried a platter of sandwiches out of the backdoor.

His onyx eyes took in a familiar scene. Roshi with a red slap print across his cheek, his wife fuming and his daughter giggling while she absent-mindedly played in the sand.

He sat the plate down on the battered picnic table and plonked himself down onto one of the many scattered lawn chairs. "Do I want to know?"

Master Roshi giggled, blood leaking from his nose, and made some groping motions with his hands. Eighteen raised her hand threateningly again and the master martial artist stopped mid-motion.

Krillin turned his attention to the apple of his eye, his daughter. "Marron! The sandwiches are ready."

The toddler ran over on her chubby legs, eager for nourishment. Krillin hefted her into his lap and watched as her grubby hands clawed at the food just out of her reach. He picked up one of the sandwiches and handed it to her. Content, she nibbled on it.

Roshi sighed wistfully. "I miss Launch. She never hit me."

"No," Krillin agreed, "she shot you often enough though."

Roshi waved away his student's concerns. "You're on my side in this Eighteen, right? Right?"

Krillin angled his head to look at his wife, idly wondering if she'd slap the old man again, and he froze. Something was wrong with his wife. She was silently shaking, sweat poured down her forehead in rivets and her hands were bunched into her trousers. Her blue eyes were full of fear, panic and determination. "Honey?" He called out softly, putting his daughter back on the ground. "You okay?"

Eighteen grew still for a moment and then, as Krillin was reaching for her, her head looked up sharply. Their eyes locked and the Z-Fighter gasped. There wasn't a shred of warmth or familiarity in those yes. They were cold.

So cold.

The android raised a hand as if to tell the group she was fine, then she flattened her palm. There was a crackle in the air as the energy hummed into existence. Acting on battle-honed instincts, Krillin dove out of his chair and wrapped his arms around his little girl.

The ki blast appeared in his wife's hand. He looked at her horror, the shock of what he was seeing rooting him to the spot. Eighteen smirked and fired. Krillin sprung out of the blast just before it would've turned him and Marron into ash.

"Who are you?" He roared in anger, cradling his whimpering daughter. The monster garbed in his wife's skin held up a single finger in response, ki pulsating at the end of her fingernail. She fired the condensed deadly beam and Krillin dodged with a curse. He couldn't fight with his daughter here.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a now muscular Roshi sneaking up the villain. The pervert's eyes squinted as he condensed blue ki into his palms. With a start, Krillin realised his teacher was attempting to pull off a silent Kamehameha without the monster noticing. He had to distract it.

He bounced Marron in his arms a bit as the girl began to cry. "What have you done to my wife?" the ex-monk screamed out, spittle flying from his gaping mouth.

The imposter cocked her head to the side. "You are annoying me," she said in a sneering tone that Krillin had not heard in years. He could hear the hum of power in the air now.

The Kamehameha was ready.

Without warning, Krillin sprang forward and kicked the thing masquerading as his wife backwards. The android flew back right into the blue beam's path. She screamed as she was smashed through the wall of Kame house and Krillin could hear the foundations groaning. The ex-monk let down his daughter before jumping high into the air.

"Let my wife go!" He roared, "Double Tsuihikidan!" The Z-Fighter sent out two homing energy waves towards the ruined section of Kame House. Just before they hit, he caught a glimpse of scared bright blue eyes.

"Krillin?"

Boom

Android Seventeen grunted as another spasm of sudden paralyzing pain ran through his body. He was quickly losing control. One by one, he was losing control of his limbs. The pain continued to sweep through his body like a tidal wave setting his nerves on fire but the spasms began to lessened. Seventeen swore softly and tried to move his body..

He couldn't. What the hell was going on? Why couldn't he move?

As if it was being controlled by a puppeteer, Seventeen's body rose upwards. He slowly rose into the air and began flying eastwards. He tried desperately to move, starting by attempting to wiggle his toes and working up to craning his neck, but it was no use. He wasn't in control Once again, he swore under his breath.

He began picking up speed as the flight continued. Something pinged against the edges of his mind. A ki signature. He was being led there, on purpose or by coincidence was yet to be seen.

A ki aura surrounded the android as his speed reached its max. He could now see the owner of the ki signature on the horizon. "Watch out!" he roared, his right fist raised to deliver a powerful haymaker. He caught a glimpse of windswept lavender hair and widened azure eyes before they collided in mid-air.

They smashed into the ground in tangle of limbs. Seventeen felt his hand reach down to grab the trench knife he kept sheathed on his leg. The boy was trapped below him, winded.

Seventeen's heart sunk in his chest.

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