A/N: Sorry about grammar errors in previous chapters. The story is translated so it's been hard to do it right. But this chapter should be a lot better.
R&R please!
Chapter 2
Business Suits and Combat Boots
Trunks had to spend Sunday morning at a corporation emergency meeting. He left the office building before an entourage of assistants and secretaries and rushed to catch a taxi before any of them could catch up with him. His excellent gray suit and briefcase stood out like a red light for any taxi driver in sight, and he didn't have to wait a second before a yellow vehicle stopped in front of him with a screeching halt.
"Where to, sir?" The driver asked Trunks as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, shielding himself from the hoard of secretaries who wanted a piece of him.
"Just go," he ordered. "Hurry."
The driver obeyed. Trunks looked out the back window to see his pursuers disappear between the cars and tall buildings.
He sighed and loosened his tight tie. It was bad enough that he had to spend the morning in a meeting, he wasn't going to let them load him with more work.
Whether Trunks loved his job was a complicated question. Like his mother, he enjoyed devising and building his inventions much more than sitting in the office and making management decisions for the company. But on the other hand, sometimes he liked to know that he was in charge, knowing that the fate of the corporation depended on him, and that everyone saw him as the ultimate authority for any decision. He always had an urge to be in the center of attention, since he was a child - a feature he no doubt inherited from his father.
But there were days when he was simply fed up. He couldn't bear to sit one more minute in some conference room or in his office, being surrounded by suck- ups or just people who thought he could solve their problems. Those days were the worst days, because then he just felt empty. Even now, watching grey streets and bleak skyscrapers through the car window, Trunks felt cold, detached from the world around him. So alone.
In his youth, if he was tired of his family or school, he would just hang out with Goten. It didn't matter what they would do – watch a movie, spar together, explore the woods or just lounge and talk for hours on end - it always made Trunks feel like a new person. It gave him something to look forward to. He always had other friends that he enjoyed spending time with, but they weren't Goten. With Goten he didn't feel he needed to fill any exaggerated expectations, he didn't have to pretend to be just another rich kid, and he didn't have to hide his power or his love of fighting. They could train together for hours, and it was fun as any other teenage activity.
More than that, he felt that Goten understood him. Really understood. He understood what it meant to be different, how it's like to have great things expected from him, how it was to live in the shadow of his father. They were so close they didn't even have to speak to tell the other what was going on – they just knew. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they had occasionally shared one body, or the fact that they were friends since they could remember.
But Goten wasn't there anymore. He hadn't there for seven years. Seven long years.
Sometimes Trunks couldn't contain the loneliness that filled him in moments when his mind wasn't distracted by work or training. At such moments the old feelings of guilt would creep back into his thoughts. The thought that maybe he could have saved Goten if only he tried harder still haunted him. If only he had been there for him after his father left, allowing his friend to hang onto him instead of thinking only of himself, perhaps Goten would have been there with him now. If only he would have been sensitive enough to realize how he was hurting his friend - if he would have repressed the pride and fear and admitted to Goten that he remembered the kiss, and that he wasn't that drunk that night in his room - perhaps Goten wouldn't have gone crazy.
He knew it was foolish to think such thoughts. He knew that what happened to Goten wasn't his fault. But it didn't help him to stop feeling remorse whenever he thought of his old friend. Feeling that maybe he missed an opportunity to feel something wonderful...
"Stop here," Trunks ordered the taxi driver, aware that they were more or less in the middle of nowhere, in a remote and neglected neighborhood.
"But..."
Trunks paid him at least twice what he owed him.
"Keep the change," he said, picked up his bag and left. He felt that if he would sit quietly for another moment with the thoughts that haunted he would explode. He had to find a distraction.
Making sure no one was watching him, he took off and disappeared into the urban mists, tucking his tie into his pocket. Searching until he recognized the energy signature, he turned east. He flew until the city became the country side, then the wild, the beach and then the sea. Even then he continued to fly, the sun beating down on his back and the water underneath him twinkling brightly, gold in a sea of sapphire.
He lowered for a moment, looking at his reflection in the moving blue mirror of the ocean. His oval hair batted in the wind, and his tanned face had a serious, somewhat gloomy look. He tried to smile like a movie star, but decided it looked forced. He recalled how Goten used to raise the corners of his mouth with his fingers to make him smile, but he repressed the memory, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere if he started to think about him again.
Damn, he really looked old in that suit... And to think he was only twenty five. He had become an adult. What would Goten say if he saw him like that? He had made him vow that they would never grow up...
There, he's thinking about Goten again, his smile flashing at him from the glowing waves. He flew higher and forced himself to think about something else.
Kami House appeared on the horizon a few minutes later. Trunks hadn't been there for a long time. He landed on the tiny island. Loud music came from the small house, almost overcoming the constant sound of the surrounding waves. Trunks gave a ting smirk and walked to the door.
The scene before him was entertaining, although not surprising. Marron and Master Roshi were standing in front of the TV, which was turned on a pop music station, singing and dancing together along with the music.
Trunks waited for them to finish their little show. At the end of the song Master Roshi fell into an impressive split and Marron was frozen in a dramatic pose. Trunks put away his briefcase and applauded them.
Marron turned in shock. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was still holding a hairbrush like a microphone. Master Roshi suddenly remembered that he was a hundred years old or so and fell on the carpet with a moan.
"Trunks, hey," Marron's face flushed. She noticed the brush and tossed it aside. "How long have you been standing there?..."
Trunks shrugged. "An hour, more or less..."
Marron looked at him crossly. "Very funny."
"You think? I think it was a bit weak."
"Someone's in a bad mood today," Marron said reluctantly.
"Just today?"
Marron rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen, taking out of the fridge Trunk's favorite soft drink.
"Let's go outside and you can tell me all about your day," she said. "Call me if you need anything, Master Roshi," she threw toward the old man who was still lying on the floor on the way out.
"This is much better," Trunks admitted after a few minutes as he was lying on a sun bed under a palm tree after abandoning his jacket, tie, shoes and socks. He took a long sip from the glass bottle.
"I know you a little," Marron said contentedly, stretching and calmly sipping her drink. She blinked her dark eyes against the swaying light filtering through the branches of the tree, her round face wearing a peaceful expression. She got her father's facial features, unfortunately, but the blond hair and the structure of her long, narrow body she got from her mother, so it was hard to decide whether she was attractive or not.
"Yeah, a little," Trunks said, leaning back. He may not be used to talking about his feelings, but sometimes it really surprised him how well Marron knew him and his moods.
Marron was Trunks and Goten's friend since childhood. Trunks could now admit that when they were young he wasn't particularly fond of her. She was three years younger than them and he and Goten always had to be careful she won't get hurt while they were playing together, because they were much stronger than her. Other than that, she was... Well, a girl. She was a party pooper and she always had something to say about everything. As a child Trunks especially disliked her because every time he almost succeeded in convincing Goten to pull some silly prank she would intervene and remind him that it was a bad idea, and that he didn't have to do everything Trunks told him to, even if he was older. Trunks hated that she undermined the uncompromising trust Goten had had in him.
Goten had always been the glue that kept them together, and it was his disappearance that made the relationship between Trunks and Marron strengthen significantly. When Goten was gone they both needed someone to cling to, a friend, and that was when they had found each other. At that stage of their lives Marron was no longer an annoying little girl, but a mature 15 year old girl, and in the absence of Goten Trunks had no reason to envy her for depriving him of his friend's attention. So their friendship grew stronger, and sometimes Trunks regretted giving her a nasty attitude in their childhood. These days she was the only person he felt he could talk to, even if he didn't feel she could understand him like Goten did.
They chatted for a while, talking about Trunks' never ending work and the courses Marron was taking in Western City College. In the second round of soda Marron used Trunks' laptop to show him a picture of a guy from college she started dating.
"He seems nice," Trunks said after looking at the picture, saving Marron his opinion that the guy looked disturbingly like her dad.
"I think so too," Marron said. By the way she smiled at the picture Trunks knew she was serious about that guy. "What about you? You're dating someone?"
Trunks shrugged and took a long sip. Marron didn't press. He didn't understand why she continued to ask him about his romantic life when she knew he had never been in a serious relationship.
After graduation his relationships with the girls he went out with became shorter and shorter until they were nothing more than flings. Recently he felt that even those were a waste of his time. No one - neither man nor woman – interested him in any way, romantic or friendly. He gave up trying to find someone who he would really be able to develop feelings for. What was the point? He was just so cold.
He didn't even enjoy the casual sex he had with the young businesswomen he scored every once and a while, not really. He didn't know why he kept chasing it, why he kept making eye contact with them in the boardroom or from the other side of the bar, even though he knew that after it would be over he would just want to leave the room and be completely alone, to sink in his work or training. Continue to sink in solitude, in the sweet pain it offered him. But as always, he wore a mask of contentment and suppressed the negative emotions that surged through him, not allowing them to undermine his confident appearance. He went on presenting the world with a face of a rich and successful man whose life was going on exactly as planned, although inside something was missing.
After lunch the two went to the shaded side of the house to spar under the supervision of Master Roshi, who was sited in a comfortable chair while smoking a pipe. Marron didn't match Trunks in terms of power or speed, but he had to admit (not out loud, of course) that she had a beautifully polished technique. Apart from that it was a nice change from the violent and intense spars with his father.
He left his cell phone in his bag on silent mode, and made sure to ignore the repeated vibration of the device when different people from his office tried to figure out where the hell he disappeared to. Marron agreed he deserved to get a free weekend every now and again. But it seemed his mother didn't think the same.
Bulma Brief's private helicopter landed on the island during the late afternoon hours. She walked out of it with Marron's parents, Krillin and 18. Trunks sighed, abandoning its fighting posture.
"The party's over," he told Marron.
"Trunks Briefs!" Trunks' mother was wearing a red business suit, her short blue hair maintaining its perfect shape despite the warm wind that blew across the island. She stepped toward him angrily, almost stumbling when her heels sank into the sand but continued forward with determination. "I should have known I'd find you here! I've been trying to reach you on the phone for hours -!"
"Sorry, Mom. I must've forgotten to put back the ringtone after the meeting," Trunks lied skillfully. He knew very well that he left the phone on silent mode. "Hey, Krillin, eighteen," he added.
"Hey, Trunks," Krillin replied, with no doubt embarrassed to stand between Trunks and the wrath of his mother. The small man's wife silently nodded in his direction.
Bluma blew air in dissatisfaction, flipping a group of hairs from her face.
"Well, no use crying over spilled milk," she said firmly. Trunks hated being with her in days of corporate emergency situations, it brought out the evil in her. Usually she wasn't that uptight. "Fix your clothes and let's go. We have a meeting with our partners from the Northern Corporations in half an hour, and you know they don't suffer delays."
Trunks looked at Marron desperately, trying to find a way out of the irritating obligation. Marron wasn't looking at him, but at the sky behind him. He turned to see what she was looking at in time to see a dozen glowing comet- like tails crossing the blue sky. Then a tremendous tumble shook the ground violently. Huge waves rose up in the sea and in the house the glassware rattled and shattered. Bulma fell off her feet in a shriek.
"What was that?" Krillin called when the shaking stopped. "An earthquake?"
"You know better than that, Krilin," claimed 18 in a deep feminine voice, her ice-blue eyes fixed on the horizon where the comets landed.
"Someone landed on Earth," Master Roshi said with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Someone powerful. Try to feel the energy."
Trunks helped his mother to her feet and then tried to concentrate and feel the energy. Master Roshi was right - the energy sign was choked but it was there, pulsating and powerful. Foreign.
"There's more than one," Marron said, standing with bare feet in the water in an attempt to get closer and feel the energy better. "Their energy is strong, but... It doesn't feel strange, like an alien."
Trunks agreed. Looking at the horizon, where he thought he was beginning to see wisps of smoke rising from the ground, he realized the energy was familiar. But it wasn't possible - it didn't make sense. So he didn't say anything.
"We have to go check it out," he said and started to put on his shoes.
"But -" Bulma started.
"It could be something serious, Bulma," Krillin came to Trunks' aid. "It could be another threat to the planet. If it's true, Trunks should be there."
Bulma opened her mouth, closed it and nodded in understanding. "I'm coming with you," she stated and turned toward her chopper. "I'll pass messages to Vegeta and Gohan on the way. Roshi, come on!"
Master Roshi jumped up, took his staff and hobbled after Bulma to the helicopter as the four others rose up into the air and started flying fast.
Soon they began to see smoke rising from an island that was mostly forest. Krillin accelerated slightly and caught up with Trunks and Marron, who flew ahead of him and his wife.
"Marron, if the situation starts to get dangerous, I want you to keep your distance," he said gravely.
"I can fight," she replied. "You said I was as least as strong as you -"
"Still," her father insisted. "You were never in a real battle. So stay behind and don't fight unless you have no other choice. Okay?"
"All right," Marron replied in surrender, but Trunks knew she wouldn't necessarily comply when the time comes.
As they were landing on the island the smoke was black and thick. Trunks noticed a huge crater that appeared in the center of the island, almost as big as the island itself. There was almost no trace of the island's vegetation; all the trees were flattened by the force of the impact or were crushed under the weight of the waves that rose due to the force of the impact. The four fighters landed on the island, shielding their eyes from the smoke. The earth looked like a battlefield, a combination of broken logs and dead fish that drifted with the waves.
Trunks coughed, his eyes watering. Marron and Krilin suffered from the same problem, but 18, who wasn't totally human, looked through the smoke with a calculated gaze. The smoke continued to rise from the crater like water in an overflowing pot, and with it leaked into the atmosphere a strong and stable energy. It was hard to say exactly how strong. Now Trunks was able to feel there were several energies there.
He approached the crater rim, Marron behind him. He had to wait a while before the smoke cleared, and then he saw them - thirteen worn metal pods, each large enough to hold a sitting person inside.
"These are spaceships," Krilin said confidently. "Vegeta came to Earth in a ship like that, and Goku when he returned from Namek."
Before Trunks' eyes one of the pods opened with a hiss of pistons. Movements were visible through the smoke; A man bending to get out of the pod before standing up straight. One by one, the pods opened and out stepped a dozen figures. Their energy rose like waves from the crater, suffocating like steam. Every one of them, without exception, was a strong fighter. Each individual wasn't as strong as Trunks, but all of them together were dangerous. Very dangerous.
Trunks prepared to defend himself if necessary while straining his eyes to see through the smoke. The figures appeared to be human, muscular and big headed - or maybe those were just the shadows of their hair? - And behind them, waving, were long, thin tails.
Trunks' eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was it really possible? Were these people who had just landed on Earth the survivors of a supposedly extinct race? Were they Saiyans - like him?
A strong gust of wind dispersed the smoke, revealing the thirteen warriors stretching after a long stay in their space pods. They were all muscular with dark pointy hair and wore Saiyan style suits of armor in different colors. They didn't seem to notice the four warriors that were watching them in suspense from the edge of the crater. If they did, they weren't at all interested in them.
Finally the leader of the Saiyans, secluded from the rest by a magnificent emerald cloak pinned to his shoulders by silver jewels in the form of stars with seven points, looked up straight at Trunks. He was relatively shorter than his friends, but no less sturdy, and had short pointy dark hair streaked with silver. He was quite old - older than Trunks' father – his tanned face worn with anger and pain. Slowly, the leader turned his whole body toward the four residents of earth, examining them with an expressionless face, his hands on his hips.
Trunks noticed one of his men fumbling with his scouter, no doubt examining their energy level. He studied 18, than Krilin and Marron, not looking particularly impressed. But when he reached Trunks his eyes widened slightly. He leaned toward the leader and murmured something in his ear. The leader's gaze focused on Trunks, showing no emotion.
"We come in peace!" He announced in a booming voice.
"Yeah, sure," Krillin muttered resentfully near Trunks' elbow. "They think we don't know what they are..."
"Excuse me, my good man," The leader said out loud. "I didn't catch what you said... You understand the language I speak, do you?"
Trunks straightened up, realizing it was time to use the diplomatic skills he acquired while working in Capsule Corp.
"Absolutely," he replied evenly. "If you come in peace, what are you looking for on this planet?"
The leader examined Trunks with dark, battle- hardened eyes. "Do you know who we are, boy?"
"You're Saiyans," he said. "The people of Planet Vegeta that was destroyed years ago by the tyrant Frieza. A race of warriors... That make their living by destroying planets on demand."
"It's true," the leader said. He rose into the air, his men following. Trunks and his friends retreated when they stepped out of the crater in front of them, ready to fight. "Fear not, I stand by my word. As you said, our planet has been destroyed a long time ago, and we no longer make a living from the destruction of planets. Not since we saw the error in our way."
Trunks was confused. The thirteen Saiyans standing in front of him looked exactly as he would have expected them to look - tough, strong, and calculated. Warriors since birth, like his father. Addicted to destruction and annihilation. They couldn't have really decided to become peace-loving people...
"There is something on this planet that we desperately need," the leader continued. "Once we find this thing, we shall leave and never come back."
"What exactly are you looking for?"
The leader's face wore and expression that might have been a smile. "This information will be given only in the presence of Prince Vegeta." The odd smile widened slightly in the sight of the astonishment on Trunks' face. "Our devices tell us you have Saiyan blood, boy. You can certainly take us to him."
"But... how? How do you know he's here?" Trunks asked in confusion.
Before the leader could respond a rattling sound indicated that Trunks' mother's helicopter landed in a safe distance away. After less than a minute a figure surrounded by an aura of power cut the sky and Trunks' father landed a few steps to his right, right in front of the Saiyans.
"Prince Vegeta," said the leader as the thirteen warriors knelt before him as one. Vegeta didn't seem excited at by that behavior, although Trunks detected the shadow of a hard emotion passing in front of his father's eyes.
He himself didn't know how it made him feel. Yes, he knew that his father was the prince of planet Vegeta before its destruction, but he never really understood it until that moment.
"Cassius," Vegeta addressed the leader. "I was certain that -"
"I survived the battle on Planet Aquila, after all," the leader, Cassius, said with an almost maniac grin. Suddenly he took off his armor, exposing his broad scarred chest. Trunks heard a shocked sound escaping Marron at the sight of a large ugly circular scar in the center of his chest, which was undoubtedly formed by a direct hit from an energy beam that passed through his body. "I cheated death by the best of the Saiyan tradition. And more importantly – on the verge of death, in the midst of the destruction and violence around, I saw the error of my way. The good and proud Saiyans that you see here in front of you gathered from throughout the galaxy since that day, and they follow me for the sake of our common goal. "
He put back his armor and cloak, adjusting the star-shaped pins. Vegeta's eyes suddenly widened.
"No..." he muttered in disbelief. "Here? On Earth?"
Cassius nodded seriously.
Trunks looked at his father uncomprehendingly. "What is he talking about?" He wanted to know. "What's on earth?"
Cassius turned to Trunks with a derisive look. "You helped us a great deal, boy, but now that Prince Vegeta is here you can return to your business. Your assistance is no longer necessary."
"Be careful with your words," Vegeta told him sternly. "You're speaking to the Crown Prince of Planet Veggeta, Prince Trunks."
Trunks gave his father a startled look. Marron let out a sound combined of a cough and a laugh. Krillin looked a little embarrassed, looking between Trunks and the Saiyans uncertainty.
Cassius and his team examined Trunks shamelessly. He in turn straightened his back, not unnerved by the stares. He always knew that his father was royalty, which meant that he was royalty, but he never thought of himself as a prince - not until that moment, anyway.
"We heard a rumor that Your Majesty brought into the world heirs that were half Saiyan half earthlings, but we didn't believe," Cassius admitted. He continued to examine Trunks, then bowed to him half-heatedly. "Forgive me for my ignorance, Prince Trunks. I expected you to look more like a Saiyan."
Not sue if it was meant to be an insult, Trunks remained silent.
Some of the scouters started beeping. Their owners looked to the sky.
"Oh, there is another one of the half- breeds we heard so much about," Cassius said, looking at the sky. After a moment two people landed near by - Gohan and Piccolo. Trunks was surprised to see Gohan looking rough, as if he hadn't slept or bathed for several days. He wasn't wearing his glasses.
"So my senses were right," Piccolo said gravely, exploring the Saiyans with black eyes.
Cassius studied Gohan briefly, Piccolo completely ignored, before turning back to Vegeta. "Forgive me for being direct, Your Majesty, but our tradition states that before a descendant of the King is declared a legitimate heir he must pass a test that would prove his strength."
Vegeta chuckled. "You've always been one for tradition, Cassius," he said loftily. "Choose your champion – Trunks will defeat every fighter that you would present."
"Wait, what?" Trunks didn't like being spoken for as if he wasn't present.
Cassius smiled contentedly. Trunks suddenly understood why his smile looked so strange – his teeth were pink, as if washed by blood a long ago. He waved his arm to a female fighter on his right. She was taller than Trunks, her thick black hair tied in a square braid.
"Tala is one of the most powerful fighters in our ranks. She will be a worthy challenge."
"Go ahead." Vegeta signaled for Trunks to choose the battlefield.
It would have been a lie to say Trunks didn't want to fight. He was a Saiyan, and more importantly, Vegeta's son - he couldn't stand not to meet a challenge when presented to him.
He took off his jacket and handed it to Marron.
"Be careful," she warned him.
"Don't worry about me," he replied confidently.
Tala rose into the air, landing on a straight and relatively empty patch of ground a few feet from the others. The female warrior took off her scouter. Trunks could understand why his father chose a human woman instead of a Saiyan – She wasn't what he would've called attractive.
"Show her, Trunks!" His mother shouted from her safe place on a nearby hill.
Trunks raised his hand to wave, but his hand froze in the air. A strange feeling crept up his spine, as if someone was staring at him from behind. He turned his head quickly, feeling disturbed. But there was no one there, just rocks and trunks of uprooted trees. How strange. He could have sworn someone was there. He felt a familiar presence in his bones...
"You're going to look at the view all day, or are we going to fight?" The Saiyan woman said sternly. Her voice was even less attractive than her appearance.
Trunks got into combat stance, meaning to say something witty, when another strong energy unnerved him. He lifted his head to see four figures swooping low and landing where everyone gathered; two girls – Pan and Bra - a man and a boy. The man was tall, had tousled black hair and wore a traditional blue gi. The boy was skinny, dark-skinned, with dark hair cut in a pinch.
"Hi guys!" Goku called in typical cheerfulness, acting as if it hadn't been seven years since their last encounter.
"Goku!" Krillin cried in disbelief.
"Dad," Gohan's voice was soft and amazed.
Trunks' heart made a strange jump. He took a deep breath and scolded himself for his reaction. He knew very well that the man was Goku, not Goten, even though they were very similar. He knew that. So why did the similarities between the father and the son appealed to him like that?
He had to concentrate on the battle. No matter that Goku was back – that wasn't an excuse to remember Goten again. That wasn't an excuse to develop a sense of hope that maybe together with the father who left, his son would come back home.