The remainder of an apartment building gave up the ghost and collapsed, great chunks of brick and metal cascading down the short hill of similar debris from neighboring buildings. Dust and ash billowed out from the crumbled mortar, creating a semi-opaque smokescreen.
Android 17 pushed his way out from under the rubble, clothes torn to shreds and bleeding all over. He wheezed heavily, trying to fight against the incredible pain in his chest. His legs felt like wet paper, but he still managed to lever himself to his feet with the aid of a mostly buried placard that might have been for a theater house once upon a time.
The dust began to settle, leaving the air chalky and bitter. The android looked around, wiping one wrist over his forehead to try and keep the blood out of his eyes. He couldn't see his sister, but he did spy Trunks. The half-saiyan was facing away from him, the golden hair making him greatly stand out, evidently searching for them as well. The bastard didn't even look like he'd been throwing them around for the last couple of minutes! Seventeen threw out his hand and fired a lightning fast ki shot, intending to blindside him and take him out while his guard was down.
Trunks looked over his shoulder a moment before he was hit, face stone serious, and vanished in time to let the gold beam harmlessly pass through his afterimage. 17 reared back, eyes wide and flitting about to try and spot where-
Trunks' hands grabbed 17 by his chin and the back of his head and twisted sharply. As augmented as 17 was, even with all the technology that was merged with his body, a broken neck was a broken neck.
The body fell, grotesquely limp, and flopped down the rubble. Trunks grimaced; blowing somebody up was already a pretty grisly end, but it was different when you killed them with your bare hands.
Trying not to dwell, he fired off a single blast to disintegrate 17's body to make sure that he was dead and staying that way. There was just one last enemy to deal with.
He had left her on the roadway while he'd been looking for 17, one leg blasted off and the other crooked at the knee. She was crawling pathetically, arms sluggish and leaden. She wasn't making any real progress, but the primal urge to flee was overwhelming. Trunks walked purposefully up to her, but didn't say anything. Her shoulders were straining to move her body any further, and ultimately her strength failed her when she tried to pull herself over a boulder of concrete jutting up from the cement. Unlimited power or not, her body had reached its limit.
She lay face-first against the rock, arms awkwardly extending up it and hanging just over the top. She was breathing heavily, and didn't move an inch as Trunks crouched next to the beaten android. 18's dirt-matted hair shielded her face from view, but her breath was making it twitch. Once so mighty and untouchable...
Trunks took hold over her shoulder and rolled her over so she was sitting against the rock. Her face was streaked with dust and ash smears, and her eyes were screwed shut, but it was still the face of the monster that had haunted him his entire life. Now she was on the ground and couldn't so much as raise a hand to fight him off. Their roles had been reversed so completely that it was almost funny.
He should have acted immediately and ended her then and there, but he waited, face grave. 18 didn't move, even after she'd caught her breath, but now he could see the fear and anger warring in her features. It was weird, but he couldn't help but notice that she didn't really have a strong resemblance to Sel after all.
"Hey, open your eyes." She refused and he scowled. "Open your eyes, 18."
Something about the authority of the order must have sunk in because she finally looked at him from behind the veil of her hair, fists clenching impotently at her sides. She was in pain, the first real pain she'd felt in all her memory, and she was furious – both at him and at herself.
"What you're feeling right now, try and imagine it from the point of view of every single one of your victims. The millions you slaughtered for the fun of it without remorse." Trunks stood up straight, towering over the wounded android. "Even if you managed to do that, you will never experience the same level of suffering the entire Earth has endured for years! You have to be held accountable for everything that you've done."
She snarled at him, tears leaking down from the corners of her eyes. "Just kill me then you bastard! Isn't this what you've been dreaming of?!"
Trunks mutely studied her. He could see the woman, the machine, the killer, the victim. He had witnessed horrors and atrocities at their hands, and he'd seen even worse in the past. He had devoted every second of his life since he was a child to becoming stronger and finally destroying the twins, and then he'd unexpectedly been caught up in a fight against a creature so much worse than these two could ever be. He could no longer cling to his own hatred to guide his every move. If he wanted to be better than them, he had to allow himself to move past it.
He held his hand up and pointed his palm at 18. "After everything you have done, and everything that you have taken from me, I want you to know...that I forgive you."
18's face went slack with shock, which was a fair reaction.
"You and 17 were victimized by Gero; being turned into cyborgs against your will and erasing your lives from before. He sent you down the path of evil, and you continued down that path because you didn't know any other way to live. You were innocents he used as tools for his own means." A golden glow filled his palm. "But that does not excuse the lives you have taken! You took enjoyment in seeing other people suffer, and you treated life like it was a disposable plaything. You destroyed homes, and didn't discriminate between who you killed – whether young or old. But this isn't my revenge. If I kill you for revenge, then I have blinded myself to what needs to be done. You will face judgment, not vengeance."
Her eyes widened as she envisioned her death for the first time. She didn't have any final words to spit at him; she could no longer hurt him anymore. And Trunks would ensure that she didn't hurt anybody else ever again.
Lounging in the open-air café together, Yamcha and Krillin made something of an interesting sight – one being a former baseball ace who had recently just walked out on his contract without a word and the other was an unusually diminutive man bereft a nose and just starting to show signs of stubble on top of a customarily shaved head.
It had been around eight months since Broly's attack, and just over ten since Sel was killed, and the two hadn't had time to catch up until now. Yamcha had recommended the place because he was generally left alone here, and that was a pretty good characteristic.
"So you got banned from the league? For life?" Krillin rotated his cup on its saucer, the small pool of escaped tea at the bottom making it glide soundlessly. Yamcha shrugged, but he looked bothered.
"Yeah, well, I kinda cost them the championship while also violating my contract. Legally speaking, I could be fined out the nose for the rest of my life, so a lifetime ban is actually pretty lenient. They probably think baseball is my dream job or something." He held his cup by the rim with his fingertips and when he brought it up to take a sip it was between thumb and forefinger that he put his lips. It was an unconscious habit, but it was still kinda weird to see in effect. "I have enough money saved from the last two seasons to keep myself comfortable for a few years, given that I don't have another car explode around me."
"Well, I know I don't need to say it, but if you ever need a place to crash, Kame House is always a home to its students." Krillin nodded sagely, as though he was the Turtle Hermit himself. Yamcha grinned and reached over the table to gently push the smaller man's shoulders with his knuckles.
"Thanks man. It's nice to know I've got friends out there, while the media is circling me like birds looking for a scandal."
Krillin squinted at the former bandit while he took a drink from his cup - the normal way, thank you very much. "Oh yeah? Like they think you had an affair with your coach's wife or something? Have an outrageous gambling problem?"
Yamcha laughed, reclining into his wire frame chair. "Hell if I know. Any reporter that bothers to actually talk to me anymore will usually ask about anything from extortion, racketeering, murder or if I have a desire to run for some sort of office. I don't know which would bother me most, really."
"Murder, I would think."
"Well, yeah, I was just making a joke."
Krillin shrugged and let his eyes wander over the other customers once again, not really paying attention but scanning for something interesting. He had a half hope that Android Eighteen would miraculously be in the corner, reading a paperback book and letting her drink get cold because that was how she preferred it but hated the idea of icing any drink that wasn't water. She might be wearing a pale blue shirt that had a little curlicue design on the side and her gray summer jacket would be slung over the back of her chair, not neatly draped over it like somebody more concerned about public appearance might do.
But he knew it was just a deluded fantasy. He had no business bothering Eighteen, and besides, nobody knew if the androids had been wished back with everyone else. Neither Piccolo or Dende could detect them from the Lookout, and any device Bulma could make to track them down would be a pretty serious breach of privacy, if they were alive.
Krillin had clung to some hope despite his best attempt to move past his feelings and it was starting to distract him all the time now. He had hardly known her, and she had infected his mind so totally that he was honestly frightened. Something had to be done.
"So...think you'll keep training?" It was a bit deceitful, using Yamcha as a surrogate for his own indecisiveness, but he really did need the second perspective.
Yamcha hesitated before answering, lifting his cup slightly and placing it back on the saucer several times, the clinking of the chinaware filling the silence for a moment. "To tell you the truth, I haven't trained a day since Sel. Even before then, I slacked off and didn't really give it my all; I thought 'hey, I'm never going to be on the same level as the super saiyans or Piccolo, why should I even bother?' And it's true – I'll never be on that kind of level, I'll never be a deciding factor in one of our big fights. Martial arts just wasn't ever my end-all be-all like it is for Goku, or for Tien. I just wanted to live like a king offa what I nabbed from people, find a pretty girl and maybe start a family, not fight intergalactic threats every couple of years"
It was a pretty big speech from the man, especially given how serious he was about it. Krillin stared distractedly into the remnants of his tea.
"But," Yamcha continued, straightening in his seat and looking vaguely skyward, "recently I've been...reflecting on my life. Y'know, trying to find what brings me happiness. I used to think it was just money and stuff, then girls, then fame. But I had plenty of money in the Diablo Desert, and I never spent it on anything and Puar and I lived pretty modestly, all things considered."
"By the way, where is Puar? I haven't seen her in awhile."
"Oh, uuh, she got a call from her old shapeshifting school and she's been giving guest speeches or something. Sort of like an advertisement to the students to show what a graduate is capable of, that kind of thing."
"That's pretty cool."
"Yeah it is...what was I talking about a second ago?"
"Money, girls and fame."
"Right. After Bulma and I split, I dated plenty of girls, but none of them were really very interesting; try having a conversation with somebody about celebrity gossip after you've visited another galaxy. None of them wanted anything serious either, or else they were waaay too clingy and wanted everybody to know we were a thing. And the fame from being a baseball superstar was so conditional on something I didn't have fun doing that it was pretty much fake. There's no happiness in that kind of life, especially when there's...there's..."
Yamcha floundered, waving a hand in the air as his face scrunched with frustration. He really wasn't used to being this open, and he didn't really ever need to talk at any great length before.
"Whatever. Point is, I haven't felt happy living the way I have. I've only really felt like I had a purpose when we were training for some approaching enemy, like the saiyans, or the androids, or Sel. I'm not very strong, but I'm still probably one of the strongest people in the galaxy, and that must mean something. If all I can do in the next fight is be a distraction while Goku or somebody gets ready to finish things, then that's exactly what I'll do. I have a purpose with you guys, even if it's not very glamorous or heroic. I can live with being a distraction, as long as it's in the defense of the Earth. So, yeah, I'm going to keep training."
"That was a pretty long answer."
"Thanks. I practiced some of that in my head for if Tien ever asked me something similar."
Krillin rolled his eyes, but he grinned all the same. Yamcha, the least inclined to fighting of all of them, was still determined to keep his strength in preparation for the next big battle. What excuse did that leave Krillin?
"Thanks, Yamcha. For tea, I mean. We'll catch up again soon, but I've got to go see Bulma about something I've been thinking about lately."
"Anytime, man."
Almost three months later to the day, Krillin met Bulma on the practically abandoned airstrip thirty miles outside of West City. A few decades ago, it had been a hotbed for aircar testing and innovation, with Dr. Briefs having enough of an interest in the research to buy the complex in its entirety. Today, however, it hadn't seen use for years and grass was poking through cracks up and down the length of the runway and the building was experiencing a creeping rust along its side.
But despite the condition of the place, it was both isolated and large enough an area that Bulma had established it as the construction site for Capsule Ship 5.
In typical Briefs fashion, she had vastly improved upon the previous model while just making everything even bigger. Capsule Ship 4 had been like a bus to take them to the South Galaxy; Capsule 5 was more of a moving apartment building. Easily twice the size of C4, it boasted the capability of supporting life for a solid year without needing to resupply or even land while also including full functionality to restock itself with oxygen and water on any compatible planet it should visit.
The living quarters had been upgraded from cabins to straight up suites, designed to be as comfortable for long term habitation as possible. The rest of the ship had been lovingly crafted to resemble a house on the inside, with adjustable wall coloring, carpets, furniture, closets, stairs, the works. As a result of the focus on comfort and sustainability, the training area at the very top of the ship was the smallest of the Capsule ships, but it was perfectly fine since it wasn't to be used by a frenzied saiyan.
The sun was still low on the horizon – not even breakfast time.
"Alright," the genius announced quietly, "she's all done and ready for launch." She had tried to convince Krillin several times already to change his mind, but he had been resolute in his goal, and it didn't look like he was any closer to opting out at the last second. He had brought three large duffel bags and two rectangular boxes that looked to have all his clothes.
"I already said goodbye to Master Roshi and the others last night, so I'm all set to go." His hair had grown out a bit more, but it was still thin enough that she could see his scalp and the incense burns. He looked tired, but determined. This was something he was wholly devoted towards.
"Alright. Remember, you can call anytime so long as you aren't near a star or other radiation heavy object, and the hydroponics do need you to take care of them, since the onboard system can only do so much, and the password for the emergency reboot is-"
"'Hopscotch January Duck', I remember." Krillin smiled and patted his chest. "I must have written the instructions for the ship in at least ten different notebooks already!"
Bulma still looked concerned, but she nodded, choosing to trust him on this. She gave him a tight hug before helping him with his bags, which turned out to be harder than she'd anticipated when the duffel she tried to pick up must have weighed a good fifty pounds. She persisted and lugged the bag up the boarding ramp and dropped it on the floor immediately inside, Krillin trailing behind her with the other two bags hanging from his shoulder and the boxes casually supported by one hand.
"You take care of yourself out there, y'hear?"
Krillin grinned. "Count on it. Before you know it, I'll be way stronger than ever!"
The idea of an indefinite journey into space to train was daunting, but the former monk was as ready as anyone could ever be, and even the prospect of spending years away from his home planet wasn't slowing him down. He knew that he had to push himself to get stronger, and what better way to test himself than to constantly be outside his element and subjected to countless challenges?
He pressed the door and ramp controls, sealing himself inside as Bulma waved from a safe distance. "Computer," he spoke aloud, knowledgeable in the voice-activated system throughout the entire vessel, "activate ship engines and launch right away, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, Krillin," responded the synthesized voice of Capsule 5. The hum of the engines kicked up and Krillin felt the ship begin to move underneath him. He continued to look out the window as the ground shrank away from him at a accelerating rate until he was past the clouds and the Earth was visible in its entirety from his viewpoint.
He didn't know when he would see it again.
AN: A short chapter, but expect that for the next couple of updates since this'll be the first Age of Filler, easing through the seven year time gap in incriments rather than just skipping it.
I haven't had Roshi in a chapter for far too long...