Chapter 14: A Day of Reckoning
The morning sun rose over Capsule Corp, casting a soft glow over its metallic walls. Despite the peaceful exterior, the tension inside was palpable. Bulma, Android 18, Trunks, and Taylor sat in the dining room after an awkward breakfast. The room was heavy with unspoken tension, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of utensils.
Android 18, no longer hiding behind her disguise as Hazel, sat at the table with her arms crossed. Her piercing blue eyes met no one's gaze, though the faint smirk on her lips betrayed her defiance. Her short blonde hair gleamed in the light, and she looked as composed as ever, despite the chaos she had brought into their lives.
Bulma, however, had no intention of letting her composure go unchallenged.
Bulma Sets the Tone
Bulma finally broke the silence, her voice sharp and cutting. "Alright, enough with the quiet act. You're sitting at my table, in my house, after everything you've done. So why don't you start talking? Who are you, really, and what the hell do you want?"
Android 18 leaned back in her chair, her faint smirk growing into a full-blown grin. "I thought we already covered this," she said coolly. "I'm Android 18, the big bad villain. Isn't that enough for you?"
Bulma's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Don't play games with me. I've had enough of your smug attitude. You think you can just sit there, acting like you're untouchable? Like none of this is your fault?"
18 shrugged, her smirk unwavering. "I never said it wasn't my fault. But I'm not the only one who's made mistakes here, am I?"
Bulma Calls Out 18's Narcissism
Bulma slammed her hand on the table, the sound echoing in the room and making Taylor flinch. "There it is again," she snapped. "That self-serving, narcissistic attitude of yours. You're so busy trying to protect yourself that you don't even realize how disgusting you sound."
18 raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering slightly. "I don't need a lecture from you, Bulma."
"Oh, you're damn right you don't," Bulma said, her voice rising. "Because if you were capable of listening to anyone but yourself, you wouldn't be sitting here pretending you're the victim. Do you even hear yourself? You sit there acting like you're above it all, like you're doing us some kind of favor by being here. Newsflash: you're not."
18's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. Her usual confidence seemed to waver as Bulma continued.
"You think you're clever," Bulma pressed, her tone icy. "Hiding behind your sarcasm and smug little comments. But here's the truth: you're nothing but a coward. You destroy everything in your path and then sit back and pretend it wasn't your fault becausee, oh, poor little 18 didn't have a choice. Well, guess what? None of us had a choice either. We didn't get to choose to live in a world where you and your brother killed millions of people!"
18's Deflection and Bulma's Retort
18's smirk returned, though it was less confident now. "You think yelling at me is going to change anything? You think I'm going to cry and beg for your forgiveness? Sorry, Bulma, but I don't play that game."
Bulma leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "No, you don't play any games, do you? Because that would mean actually taking responsibility for your actions. Instead, you sit there, smirking like a child who got caught stealing candy, acting like you're too good to care about what you've done."
18's defiance flickered, but she crossed her arms and kept her tone even. "I didn't come here to apologize. I came here because of that." She gestured toward her stomach. "And because your son thought he could handle it."
Bulma shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. "Handle it? Trunks can't even handle himself, let alone you. And you're sitting here acting like this is all some big inconvenience for you? Like you're doing us a favor by not killing anyone for once? Give me a break."
Trunks Tries to Defend 18
Trunks, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up. "Mom, that's enough."
"No, Trunks," Bulma shot back, her voice sharp. "It's not enough. Not until she understands just how lucky she is to still be breathing."
"Lucky?" 18 said, her voice rising. "You think I feel lucky? You think I wanted any of this?"
"Yes," Bulma said bluntly, her eyes narrowing. "Because as much as you don't want to admit it, you're here because of my son. He saved your life. He gave you a second chance. And instead of owning up to that, you sit there acting like you're the only one who's suffered."
Trunks stepped in between them, his voice strained. "Mom, please. She's trying. I'm trying. We're all trying. Can't we just—"
"Trying?" Bulma interrupted, her voice full of disbelief. "Trunks, you've been covering for her since day one. And for what? She doesn't even care. She's so wrapped up in her own self-pity that she can't even see what she's done to us."
The Breaking Point
18 stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You think I don't know what I've done?" she shouted, her icy composure finally breaking. "You think I don't remember every single person I killed? Every city I destroyed? I live with that every day, Bulma. Every. Single. Day."
"Good," Bulma snapped, standing as well. "Because maybe if you remember it long enough, you'll finally realize that this isn't about you anymore. This is about the people you hurt. The lives you destroyed. And until you can own that, you're no better than the monster you were when you first showed up."
18 clenched her fists, her expression cold and distant. "I don't need your forgiveness, Bulma. And I sure as hell don't need your approval."
"Good," Bulma said, her voice like steel. "Because you're not getting it."
The Aftermath
The room fell silent, the weight of the confrontation hanging heavy in the air. Taylor, who had been watching with wide eyes, finally spoke up. "So… are we just gonna skip lunch, or…?"
"Taylor, shut up," Trunks muttered, his voice tired.
18 turned and walked toward the door, pausing only briefly before looking over her shoulder. "You don't have to like me, Bulma. But I'm not going anywhere. Not until this baby is born."
With that, she left, slamming the door behind her. Bulma turned to Trunks, her expression a mixture of anger and disappointment.
"You brought this into our home," she said quietly. "You lied to me. And now you've got to live with it."
Trunks didn't respond. He just sat down, his head in his hands, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him like never before.