Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ In the End ❯ Times of Change ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3: Times of Change

“What do you mean you don't know where he is!?”

 

“17 calm down, let's go!”

 

“He's trying to shut us down 18! After all we did for this piece of shi- GAH!” He caught himself then snapped verbally, “Where is Bush?!” 17 dangerously seethed, gripping the secretary's gruff fabric of her dressing shirt. He forcefully released her, angling his head to his calm sister and friend, Android 18. How could she be so calm? He barely could contain himself.

 

Ignoring the terrified woman as she scrambled away, 18 only passively folded her arms, ignoring his actions despite the glare plastered upon his young features. “Bush obviously isn't here . . . Let's go, he may have gone back to Iraq. . .”

 

17 scoffed and heaved his weight forwards, folding his white sleeved, under shirt, coated arms behind his midnight, black head of hair. His supreme, azure gaze fell upon her twin features of his own: the same eyes, the same nose, and the same countenance.

 

But, they were two completely different specimens.

 

He was, of course, arrogant, and she was simply passive. He yearned to kill, yet she loved life. Oddly how they got along, yet they stuck together despite differences, and loved each other dearly. He hated to admit it, yet he would perhaps be in complete peril if she died and left him to this unforgiving world. It scared him greatly, but alas, he knew she would survive. No one besides himself could kill her, and he would never think of such a deed.

 

A burst of laughter broke between her full lips. She tugged her lithe fingers indifferently through the blond tresses of her hair, having the same length as he, “What are you starring at? By the way, I want . . . another outfit.” She loved springing these oblivious and random things towards him. It allowed things to be much more so smoother and grand for their relationship.

 

She adored her sibling.

 

She yearned for his smile, his laughter and his complete happiness. She knew he deserved the uttermost heights of joy and she would do what it took to make him rejoice.

 

Nothing mattered by this point. They had each other's sibling love, and each knew that they could not bare life's hardships without the other. They were content.

 

Lost in these few happy moments, the two barely noticed the thick walls of the White House erupting into static and the squealing screech of a siren.

 

The sole aggravating voice he sole despised and dreaded enclosed inside 17/Derrick's mind and simply clouded his vision of what was right and what was wrong.

 

He -hated- him. He hated the feeling that monster gave him. He despised the very essence of that person's being and cursed them as his birth right. He wished to vomit towards the mere sight of him wished to be absent of him always.

 

“17 and 18 come out of the building, we have your demolition button on hand, and this is your first warning.” She simply ignored it, paranoia clearly outside the walls of this historic building. She would only do as 17 said. The man hadn't hurt her. She was perhaps one he loved dearly and the only he trusted at this point. Father hadn't betrayed her. . .

 

17 still could not hide is discomfort. The voice caused him to be uneasy and he began to fidget. He could not breathe to save himself from this settling, suffocating and depressing moment. All of those memories, he needed something to distract his heart. Words barely formed from his startled tongue and defiant mouth. He didn't know what was wrong with him or what ill well had become of his fate. "W-well, another outfit? We just bought you an out fit from the other town...”

 

            ; "5"

            ;

            ; "Tch, you think this garbage compliments me?" She barked abruptly. She noticed his usual conceited voice had been lost, surrounded by a sea of meekness.

         

   "4"

 

            ; "I-I mean does it matter?" he wasn't particularly speaking to her. Did it matter if he hated that man? Did it even matter of he continued to love on?

 

            ; "3"

 

            ; “Derrick…”

 

            ; "2"

 

            ; He neither minded if she called him Derrick or not. He had lost that identity long before and right now; he was too busy in thought to protest. Would he actually take it upon himself to kill the man? If the man wanted it that way, then he would gladly do as so. Awkwardly, he spoke his thoughts, “Fine then.”

 

            ; "1"

 

            ; "Humph, good . . .” She neither cared what he was saying yeah to, as long as she received her answer. Derrick had always been odd.

 

This knocked him completely aloof, “What in the heck are you talking about?”

        

She decided not to answer; he had only proved her point further. 

 

Despite this, much to 17's horrification, the deep voice raged on, "Please don't make us destroy you," The man seemed to be filled with remorse of some sorts, perhaps even regret.

 

17 surely doubted it.

 

          &n bsp; "Daddy dear is too soft.” She paused briefly, unaware of her brother's reaction. She then continued on, “I knew he wouldn't do it . . . what do we do?"

 

            ; "I don't know...” 17 spoke bitterly, daring not to continue further. His heart ached to end that piece of trash as he threatened to do the same to them, “He isn't my father…”

 

            ; "Fine, then Derrick, you sprung from mid air. Still, the demolition button is out there.” Wherever he came from, they were related. 

            ;

"Shut up. . .” His mind seemed to be else where, capturing his voice in the bowels of distantness. He was no longer distracted.

 

17 had seemed to have lost his façade. He couldn't slack off this time, now was inconvenient.

            ;

            ; “By the way, the name is 17." He could hide his pain forever, and would do anything to keep his emotions clearly hidden. He wanted not to be hurt again. Lifting his head, he deviously glared to the American flag, "Let's go 18."

 

Agents lined the sacred place of the Lincoln Memorial just outside. This sacred place would soon be dumped into chaos and chucked fiercely into hell. This day would be theirs and they wouldn't pass this chance up for a life time. The air was the calm, the afternoon chillingly still, a perfect day to claim which was rightfully theirs: Peace.

            ;

"Press the button Captain before they kill us! You saw the damage they caused in Iran and Iraq. They slaughtered half the population! They are dangerous!" Dr. Gero barked, his white mustache twitching in anticipation. Malice laced inside the darkest depths of his words and he was seen as rotten to the core. He was a genius, a very intellectual individual. He was, perhaps, the smartest man alive.

 

“You changed them into those -things-. It is not their faults!”

 

“You're right; it was yours just the same as mine,” Gero flatly commented. “You deceived them.”

 

“They are my children. I can not simply kill them! I chose what I believed was best for them! They helped the country! We can now withdraw dying soldiers in Iraq!” The broad captain lashed out, screaming towards the Doctor.

 

“At what cost do we keep them alive? America is in debt because of those things and thousands of innocent people have died! Give me the button before I hold you in contempt of the law. That boy of yours is the reason why the towers fell and why we have a partially destroyed New York!”

 

“Don't give me that! You all built them with borrowed money. It is your faults! I am the law; you and your twisted experiments will be ash when I am completely done with you!”

 

“Deidara… you dare explain yourself to this… obsolete being and not to us?” Instantaneously had their molecules split and they were drifting through complete matter. They appeared swiftly opposite of the arguing pare, and the soldiers backed in complete amazement. 17 refused to glare upon his father's face; he would rather die then to simply hold a descent conversation with that stupid, puny being. He stood in the exact same position as he did on the side, displaying his evident boredom of life.

 

“Derrick. . .” Deidara began

 

“My name is 17 you insolent bastard!” He screamed unwillingly. He could not take this. He felt unlike himself and felt as though it was perhaps his fault he became who he was. Was it actually by chance that he brought this hellish fate upon himself?

 

“Daddy, did you actually plan to deactivate us?”

 

“Drina . . .”

 

“So it is true you indecisive worm . . .” He had to intervene; it was only his place to assist his sibling. He promised he would not look upon his face; he pledged he would never do as such again.

 

“Watch you're tongue Derrick! We can deactivate you whenever we find the time! Your services are no longer needed!”

 

“Then do it since you're so stuck on it! You act like you finally give a rat's piss about us and what we do.” His head jerked with each word, sarcastically remarking. “Just get it over with. You've always been obsessed with making my life miserable.”

 

“I will not be made the enemy here!”

 

“Then what are you daddy dearest?” She blankly cut in, sweetly commenting.

 

“Drina, stay out of this. If he wants his little attention, allow him a moment of pathetic conquest.”

 

“Attention is it? You say I'm doing this for attention?!” He stood no more and his vow was soon broken. He could not contain himself and decided to not further more try. He was all powerful and finally in control. The rough edges of his eyes fearfully collided into a mirror aged image of himself and he could have spat in disgust. This was sickening and just degrading. It literally hurt him, he was mortally wounded.

 

“I've had enough of this bickering!” A forgotten Gero took his stand. Deftly, he snatched the Demolition Button directly from Deidara's side. He had made these creations and could use them accordingly.

 

“No one-“Gero snapped, yet was soon cut off by the cool and calm clutches of death.

 

Gracefully, she had turned, invisible to the naked eye. Oh so gently and oh so swift, her body being agile and fierce. Her toe met accurately into the side of his neck, severing the flesh, bone, and nerves. Astonishingly, the head flew backwards not far. She had completely diminished Gero.

 

“Drina!” soldiers gasped, others gawked. This moment grew thick with tension. No one dared to move, no one even breathed.

 

Snatching the button from mid air with nimble qualities, 18 proceeded to dangle the button between her lose grip, “Oopsy… Tch, a demolition button, who do they take us for?”

 

“He created you Drina!” Cerulean eyes collapsed onto his sweet, little girl, the one he thought he could save from damnation. They had complete control, all was lost! Her mere appearance seemed as her delinquent brother. Why had she followed in his foot steps? Why did she not wish to have his approval? Was he truly such a bad influence?

 

Lifelessly, she drug her head about, dirty blond strands cascading into her pale and dangerous features. She parted her full lips in assured gratefulness, enjoying this suspenseful moment, “I was wonderfully crafted and created by God, he had no right to tamper with me . . . Now, I'll spare your life, but back off father…”

 

“18, we spare no one, not even him. . .” he spoke softly eyeing the one man that filled him to the fullest with excitement and fear.

 

“17, you aren't serious. He's daddy. “18 knitted her brows, confusion surpassing her beautiful features. Derrick had to be out of his mind. They couldn't kill him, right?

 

“I am dead serious. We are going to end him and this pathetic nation. What else is there to do? We've done all we can for them to appreciate us and we get to be deactivated? I don't think so. They all die, every single one of them.” 17 stammered, clearly unbelieving his words. Did he really mean this?

 

No, she could not allow this. She would not allow this. This had gone too far. People would get hurt, thousands would die. She would not be responsible for so many deaths once again. She was no monster; she was Drina and wished to keep her personality. She enjoyed mischief, yet unnecessary killing was totally beneath her, and she thought it was beneath Derrick. She couldn't bear to fight him, she loved him as so. She only had one brother and he had been there always. Why had morals split them so far apart that their finger tips barely touched in this cruel world of sin?

 

Sibling or not, this was wrong.

 

“I won't let you do it Derrick. . .”

 

“18, they deserve this!”

 

“Who are we to judge them Derrick? We are no better!”

 

No, this was wrong. She didn't comply. Why? Had she chosen them over him: Him that had hurt them and them that had brutally changed them into these creatures? No! She couldn't side with them. It was not fair! Was he truly alone in this dark world? Would she truly forsake him?

 

“You are just like mother!” 17 spat out in uttermost remorse, “I can not believe you!”

 

“You all run, get far from here. . .” Her lips barely moved and her eyes were extremely focused onto the spitting image of herself. Could she even carry this through? Would she murder her own brother?

 

“Drina. . .”

 

“Daddy go! I'll be fine . . .”

 

“My daughter . . . “ He neither knew if this would be the last time he would see her, yet he was glad she had chosen the right side. . .

 

It had begun; blow after blow had been delivered. Tears after Tears had been shed, and blood fallen the same

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

VI