Post by Future Trunks on Dec 17, 2011 10:45:54 GMT -5
{{I used the Z-fighters from Trunks' timeline briefly in this...}}
Father...
Seventeen and Eighteen swarmed like bees around a figure in blue, blue and purple arcs of lighting striking the Saiyan Prince from all angles. His screams tore through the Universe, the death of the final full blooded Saiyan making itself evident. The demons laughed, mocking the seriousness of the occasion with their enjoyment. Blood sparkled as it fell, like a waterfall plummeting from the heavens and forming a lake upon the tarnished grounds of East City.
The image reeled, seeming to fly forward. Now Piccolo, the very man who had trained Gohan, stood with his finger tips pressed against his forehead, yellow and purple energy arching along his arm as he built energy. Somewhere in the distance, Krillin and Tien fought valiantly against Seventeen and Eighteen, holding the androids off for as long as possible. Yamcha had fallen already, his blood soaking the snowy ground of North City.
Trunks was three now, and already taking on the cautious nature that would one day be his entire being. The small hybrid prince waddled down a cracked hallway, gurgling in an attempt to signal his mother that he was near. But, like a hawk to her eggs, she already knew, and swooped down on him before he made it to her door. She patted him on the back, brushing her lips to his forehead to calm him. Gradually, the toddler Trunks fell drowsy, then faded into rest. Thousands of miles north of his bed, Tien loosed the last of his energy in a fruitless attempt to kill Seventeen. A hand protruded from his chest, the three eyed warrior's heart in its hand.
Krillin appeared, turning himself upwards and out of Piccolo's line of fire. As he pulled away, Eighteen was revealed, flying full speed after the monk. Two orbs of energy floated in her hand, and they both grew larger as they neared Piccolo. The Namekian didn't stand a chance; his Special Beam Cannon was absorbed by the first of the two orbs, and he was evaporated by the explosion. Krillin escaped...
The memories reeled again, flying forward two more months. Roshi had trained Krillin as best he could, even though there was little more for the monk to learn. Korin tried the holy water, but it did little for Krillin's potential. Popo did what he could, but again, there was little that could be done for the last Z-fighter's power level...And so instead, Krillin taught what he could to the son of Goku, Gohan, and went to face down the androids alone. He was killed in a similar manner to Tien.
Later down the road, Gohan began training Trunks, who seemed to absorb the knowledge of fighting better than even Vegeta had. They trained; yes, they trained for quite some time, but never for more than a few days at a time. Because then a report on the Androids would come in, and Gohan would go to face them down once more. It was like that for many years, but it wasn't until Trunks was fourteen that something remarkable and terrible happened.
It started simply...Gohan lost his arm. But that handicap grew, and it grew until, finally, the androids killed him. Trunks was thrown into a rage, and his latent potential finally came forth...Trunks had become a Super Saiyan, and, more than that, the paterfamilias of Earth. He was, by some cruel play of fate, the last remaining hope of his home. Eventually, he'd managed to defeat the Androids, but only after watching his friends die in person, and after dying himself...
Trunks Briefs, you have a sickly pass..., The voice was almost like Shenron's, but at the same time, it reminded Trunks of every roll model he'd ever had. Vegeta, Gohan, Goku, Piccolo... but this is your chance to forget some...or all of it. Your power will be drained no matter what your choice is, but this is your one chance to change your history...What is it you will have me erase?[/b]
Trunks stirred, realizing that he was asleep on his bed, yet not waking up. His eyes seemed to be locked shut, and his body was held down by some strange force. He could feel that the nightmares of his past had put him into a cold sweat, yet he could do nothing to dry his forehead. After effortless struggling, he surrendered to the voice, and began to ponder the question. If everything that had been happening over the last few days- Frieza's Ki traces returning, for example- then, perhaps, Gohan had returned. And the fact that the witch had drained his ability to go Super Saiyan...Maybe he needed to forget how he'd done it before, so that he could let fate bring him to the ability. But then...No. He'd never feel as angry as he did that day again, and the Super Saiyan form made up part of him. Even though he couldn't achieve it anymore, he needed it within. So what? There was little he could think of that was worth forgetting...Except...
Take away my memory of Purgatory. I don't want to fear death, or feel that dying would result in eternal boredom. If I am to fight as I should, I needn't remember being a yellow cloud, weaker than anything with a body.
Very well...It is done.
And a moment later, Trunks's memory of talking to the voice was gone, as was the place he'd asked to be removed...What was it? The memory was no longer palpable, no longer existing...it had happened, surely, but it seemed to vanish from his life entirely. Later, the Hybrid Prince rose, bathed, and dressed, making his way down to the kitchen of Capsule Corp. His younger self was snoring loudly in the room just to the left of the Kitchen, and he assumed that the present-time Vegeta and Bulma were already out and about. He could hear clanking and beeping, meaning Dr. Briefs or some other scientist was busy in the basement. The shower was running, which met that the ageless mother of Bulma was busy in the bathroom.
Trunks grabbed two capsules from the fridge, stuffing them in his pocket. They consisted of six bento boxes each, which he'd gotten from the shop at the mall. Aside from that, Trunks grabbed half a dozen cans of Cocacola, stuffing them in a pack slung over his back. He gave a nod to one of the desk workers in the front entrance of Capsule Corp. as he left, then pushed open the front door. After a few seconds of locking onto the Ki signature of the fake Santa at the mall, Trunks started towards his winter job, shifting between sprints and jogging.
********
Just past five hours later, noon came, and Trunks was released from the hell that was working in a mall during the Holiday rush. Luckily, he'd been placed at the Merry-go-round today, so he hadn't had to dress up as an elf. On the down side, he had to make small talk with whatever father or mother was tired and leaning on the gate next to him, which called for some awkward questions of his age, and his name, and then why the son of Bulla Briefs was working at a mall. Now, though, he was on his way home from the C-Store, where he'd gotten the latest Capsule Phone, and was listening to "My December." Linkin Park was a good band, even for the savior of alternate Earth.
He sighed as the song reached its climax, and he stuffed the headphones into his pocket. The men standing at the entrance to Capsule Corp waved, but Trunks ignored them, tossing his I.D to the desk manager and barging out into the living area. After a moment of consideration, he turned towards the training building, which had been unused since Vegeta' departure for his home planet. For a brief second, Trunks wondered why he'd chosen to stay on Earth. He waved it off, continuing into the building and flipping on the light switch, along with a half dozen other switches. The training equipment that was previously hidden appeared. And, to Trunks's left, a dock for music players. He attached his new Capsule Phone, then ripped away the vest he'd worn to help hide himself while at the mall. Under it was his normal black tank top.
For the next hour, the Halfling Prince trained; he pushed all the anger that had been pent up within him since the strange events of the weeks prior to reality. His fists struck robotic objects, deflected blasts of Ki. He ducked a blast that he'd overlooked, turning on the object that had fired it and turning it to dust. At the same time, a series of beams tore into his back, ruining his shirt and burning him badly. The Halfling Prince roared his disapproval and unleashing a wave of energy that consumed and destroyed the object.
As the hours passed, he felt his aggression and frustration slip, and eventually shut down the minor gravity increase, along with the training programs. He retrieved his Capsule Phone, then left the training building for the living building. Without alerting Bulma of his presence, the Halfling Prince slipped up the stairs to his room, where he snatched a sensu bean to heal his wounds. Thereafter, he fell back onto his bed, pondering the loss of power he and many of the warriors of Earth had felt. What had caused it? Was it reversible? And how long would it be before some villain took advantage of the troubles? Eventually, his wondering led to sleep, and sleep led to the same nightmares as the night previous.
TWC: 1677
Father...
Seventeen and Eighteen swarmed like bees around a figure in blue, blue and purple arcs of lighting striking the Saiyan Prince from all angles. His screams tore through the Universe, the death of the final full blooded Saiyan making itself evident. The demons laughed, mocking the seriousness of the occasion with their enjoyment. Blood sparkled as it fell, like a waterfall plummeting from the heavens and forming a lake upon the tarnished grounds of East City.
The image reeled, seeming to fly forward. Now Piccolo, the very man who had trained Gohan, stood with his finger tips pressed against his forehead, yellow and purple energy arching along his arm as he built energy. Somewhere in the distance, Krillin and Tien fought valiantly against Seventeen and Eighteen, holding the androids off for as long as possible. Yamcha had fallen already, his blood soaking the snowy ground of North City.
Trunks was three now, and already taking on the cautious nature that would one day be his entire being. The small hybrid prince waddled down a cracked hallway, gurgling in an attempt to signal his mother that he was near. But, like a hawk to her eggs, she already knew, and swooped down on him before he made it to her door. She patted him on the back, brushing her lips to his forehead to calm him. Gradually, the toddler Trunks fell drowsy, then faded into rest. Thousands of miles north of his bed, Tien loosed the last of his energy in a fruitless attempt to kill Seventeen. A hand protruded from his chest, the three eyed warrior's heart in its hand.
Krillin appeared, turning himself upwards and out of Piccolo's line of fire. As he pulled away, Eighteen was revealed, flying full speed after the monk. Two orbs of energy floated in her hand, and they both grew larger as they neared Piccolo. The Namekian didn't stand a chance; his Special Beam Cannon was absorbed by the first of the two orbs, and he was evaporated by the explosion. Krillin escaped...
The memories reeled again, flying forward two more months. Roshi had trained Krillin as best he could, even though there was little more for the monk to learn. Korin tried the holy water, but it did little for Krillin's potential. Popo did what he could, but again, there was little that could be done for the last Z-fighter's power level...And so instead, Krillin taught what he could to the son of Goku, Gohan, and went to face down the androids alone. He was killed in a similar manner to Tien.
Later down the road, Gohan began training Trunks, who seemed to absorb the knowledge of fighting better than even Vegeta had. They trained; yes, they trained for quite some time, but never for more than a few days at a time. Because then a report on the Androids would come in, and Gohan would go to face them down once more. It was like that for many years, but it wasn't until Trunks was fourteen that something remarkable and terrible happened.
It started simply...Gohan lost his arm. But that handicap grew, and it grew until, finally, the androids killed him. Trunks was thrown into a rage, and his latent potential finally came forth...Trunks had become a Super Saiyan, and, more than that, the paterfamilias of Earth. He was, by some cruel play of fate, the last remaining hope of his home. Eventually, he'd managed to defeat the Androids, but only after watching his friends die in person, and after dying himself...
Trunks Briefs, you have a sickly pass..., The voice was almost like Shenron's, but at the same time, it reminded Trunks of every roll model he'd ever had. Vegeta, Gohan, Goku, Piccolo... but this is your chance to forget some...or all of it. Your power will be drained no matter what your choice is, but this is your one chance to change your history...What is it you will have me erase?[/b]
Trunks stirred, realizing that he was asleep on his bed, yet not waking up. His eyes seemed to be locked shut, and his body was held down by some strange force. He could feel that the nightmares of his past had put him into a cold sweat, yet he could do nothing to dry his forehead. After effortless struggling, he surrendered to the voice, and began to ponder the question. If everything that had been happening over the last few days- Frieza's Ki traces returning, for example- then, perhaps, Gohan had returned. And the fact that the witch had drained his ability to go Super Saiyan...Maybe he needed to forget how he'd done it before, so that he could let fate bring him to the ability. But then...No. He'd never feel as angry as he did that day again, and the Super Saiyan form made up part of him. Even though he couldn't achieve it anymore, he needed it within. So what? There was little he could think of that was worth forgetting...Except...
Take away my memory of Purgatory. I don't want to fear death, or feel that dying would result in eternal boredom. If I am to fight as I should, I needn't remember being a yellow cloud, weaker than anything with a body.
Very well...It is done.
And a moment later, Trunks's memory of talking to the voice was gone, as was the place he'd asked to be removed...What was it? The memory was no longer palpable, no longer existing...it had happened, surely, but it seemed to vanish from his life entirely. Later, the Hybrid Prince rose, bathed, and dressed, making his way down to the kitchen of Capsule Corp. His younger self was snoring loudly in the room just to the left of the Kitchen, and he assumed that the present-time Vegeta and Bulma were already out and about. He could hear clanking and beeping, meaning Dr. Briefs or some other scientist was busy in the basement. The shower was running, which met that the ageless mother of Bulma was busy in the bathroom.
Trunks grabbed two capsules from the fridge, stuffing them in his pocket. They consisted of six bento boxes each, which he'd gotten from the shop at the mall. Aside from that, Trunks grabbed half a dozen cans of Cocacola, stuffing them in a pack slung over his back. He gave a nod to one of the desk workers in the front entrance of Capsule Corp. as he left, then pushed open the front door. After a few seconds of locking onto the Ki signature of the fake Santa at the mall, Trunks started towards his winter job, shifting between sprints and jogging.
********
Just past five hours later, noon came, and Trunks was released from the hell that was working in a mall during the Holiday rush. Luckily, he'd been placed at the Merry-go-round today, so he hadn't had to dress up as an elf. On the down side, he had to make small talk with whatever father or mother was tired and leaning on the gate next to him, which called for some awkward questions of his age, and his name, and then why the son of Bulla Briefs was working at a mall. Now, though, he was on his way home from the C-Store, where he'd gotten the latest Capsule Phone, and was listening to "My December." Linkin Park was a good band, even for the savior of alternate Earth.
He sighed as the song reached its climax, and he stuffed the headphones into his pocket. The men standing at the entrance to Capsule Corp waved, but Trunks ignored them, tossing his I.D to the desk manager and barging out into the living area. After a moment of consideration, he turned towards the training building, which had been unused since Vegeta' departure for his home planet. For a brief second, Trunks wondered why he'd chosen to stay on Earth. He waved it off, continuing into the building and flipping on the light switch, along with a half dozen other switches. The training equipment that was previously hidden appeared. And, to Trunks's left, a dock for music players. He attached his new Capsule Phone, then ripped away the vest he'd worn to help hide himself while at the mall. Under it was his normal black tank top.
For the next hour, the Halfling Prince trained; he pushed all the anger that had been pent up within him since the strange events of the weeks prior to reality. His fists struck robotic objects, deflected blasts of Ki. He ducked a blast that he'd overlooked, turning on the object that had fired it and turning it to dust. At the same time, a series of beams tore into his back, ruining his shirt and burning him badly. The Halfling Prince roared his disapproval and unleashing a wave of energy that consumed and destroyed the object.
As the hours passed, he felt his aggression and frustration slip, and eventually shut down the minor gravity increase, along with the training programs. He retrieved his Capsule Phone, then left the training building for the living building. Without alerting Bulma of his presence, the Halfling Prince slipped up the stairs to his room, where he snatched a sensu bean to heal his wounds. Thereafter, he fell back onto his bed, pondering the loss of power he and many of the warriors of Earth had felt. What had caused it? Was it reversible? And how long would it be before some villain took advantage of the troubles? Eventually, his wondering led to sleep, and sleep led to the same nightmares as the night previous.
TWC: 1677
