Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 22: Seeing Red ( Chapter 22 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 22

People were going to die. Heads would roll. Blood would be spilt.

And it would be good.

Lord Kakarrot stalked some of the more deserted corridors of his palace, his tail lashing out angrily behind him occasionally. It was after the curfew hour, when the majority of people were secure in their rooms. There was still a low roar of activity, though. It was less than a week until his long awaited wedding. But the bride-to-be was mysteriously absent.

At first he had thought that some foolish individual had thought to kidnap her for future ransom. But that idea was dismissed, as no ransom note was given, and no one could find Zarbon's corpse, for surely he would have defended his mistress unto death. Then, it was believed that Zarbon took Bulma, but the galactic ruler dismissed that idea out of hand. The blue skinned guard didn't have enough spine or brains to plan something like this, especially since it was an automatic death sentence. No, the one responsible was none other than the emperor's betrothed. There wasn't any clue as to who was really behind it, but the saiyajin ruler knew that it couldn't be anyone other than the beautiful, daring, intelligent, crafty, rebellious human woman.

He smiled savagely. She was inviting him to hunt her down, and it was an invitation he loathed to refuse. But once he -did- track her down, Zarbon was dead, as was anyone else who was with her. And in the mean time... he was going to have Trunks found and tortured as punishment for her insolence. But it wouldn't be Goten who hurt him. No, this was something so personal, he rather thought it was fitting that one of her old resistance weapons was the one responsible for the demi-saiyajin's injuries. Plus, he didn't want Goten to have all the fun.

When he had called for the blond android, she came quickly, bowing at his feet in her loyalty. He had smiled at her, though he wasn't sure if it reached his eyes, and he really didn't give a damn if it did or not. He bid her rise, and asked, "So, 18, are you... entertained by the human you are guarding?"

A mix of emotions flashed across the otherwise cold and doll-like face. Grimacing slightly, she replied, "Hardly, milord."

"Interesting," the monarch smirked. Clasping his hands behind his back above his waving tail, he took a couple of steps towards her, the smirk never leaving his face. "Then perhaps you wouldn't be opposed to a... special assignment in lieu of your current engagement."

"A special assignment, sire?" she inquired.

"Yes. As you may or may not have been informed, my..." The saiyajin paused momentarily, trying to think of what to call her. A great many things came to mind, but he couldn't bring himself to call her names when he knew that he still wanted her. So, he went for something a bit more benign. "My future wife has disappeared. And while I fully intend to pursue her the moment my ship is ready, I feel that punishment should be administered in the meantime."

"And may I ask what this punishment might be and what it has to do with me?"

"Wouldn't you agree, 18, that it's always more effective to harm the loved ones of your enemy than your enemy himself?" In his mind, ever so briefly, the image of his past wife, Lady Chichi, and her guard sprang forward, painting the world around him in red. Blood red. He shook it away, but found that the image was one that never truly left him for long. He hadn't loved her, had never claimed to. But still, the image remained to taint his mind, which truly told of the effectiveness of his plans.

"Always, milord."

"My precious jewel values nothing, I think, more than her wretched bastard of a son," the man said softly, admitting briefly, that the one person he wanted, the one person he loved as much as he was capable, held no such feeling of affection towards him. That was another reason he wanted to make her suffer. Just a bit. "Therefore, wouldn't it make the most sense to... punish her through him?"

"Without a doubt."

Lord Kakarrot turned his back to the blonde android then, gazing out at the black night. "Find him. Hurt him. -Damage- him. But do not kill him. A dead whelp is worthless. A severely injured one -- one who could, for example, never walk again -- hurts more." Looking back at her over his shoulder, he harshly stated, "I want it to hurt. -Deeply-."

The answer did not come to her quickly. Pausing for longer than she should have, the blonde finally began, "Milord..."

"Is that hesitation I hear, 18?" The galactic ruler turned to look her over, piercing her with his steady, angry gaze.

"Preservation," she corrected. "It's about my brother..."

"17? What about him?" Lord Kakarrot snapped.

"He's become... strange about Trunks," she replied. She thought back to times when she'd seen the two of them together. There was the kiss for good luck, the time she had interrupted them... doing something she -still- didn't know, and a few other times that had her questioning her brother's sanity. After all, it was Trunks of all creatures! But still, it was her brother, and she was his sister, no matter his poor taste. "Were I to 'damage' him as you've requested, that could have serious repercussions between my brother and myself."

The emperor scowled. "17 knows his place in the empire. And he knows Trunks'. Should he oppose you, I will take care of him personally."

Blue eyes widened, and a strand of actual emotion entered her voice as she blurted out, "But, sire, he's my brother." He was all she really had!

"Oh, for the gods' sakes. I don't intend to -kill- him. But he will remember where his place is here, should he forget." The saiyajin waved a hand, as if the entire situation wasn't of much consequence. And to him, it wasn't. What was important was Bulma being taught a lesson.

"I understand," 18 said as she bowed her head, somewhat appeased. She was still slightly worried that 17 might take it personally, but that didn't stop the quick thrill that raced up her spine at the thought of actually -doing- something again. Something out of which she -would- get satisfaction, unlike chasing after someone who was claiming to have 'found faith again' and returned to monkish ways, including a vow of chastity.

"Now... Will you do it?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Kakarrot," 18 answered as she raised herself up again. There was a definite gleam in her blue eyes, and it had nothing to do with the lighting of the room.

He dismissed her after that, but that left him with time on his hands. He hated waiting, and it would be at least another half a day until his ship was ready to fly after the blue-haired human. In the mean time... the spiked-haired warrior was just itching to kill something. Anything or anyone, just to pass the time. He didn't like to be kept idle when there were things to be done.

As he hunted the hallways, something caught his attention. He paused in his meanderings, wondering what it was. A soft, giggling laughter drifted his way, catching the emperor off guard. Turning towards the direction from which he thought the sound came, the tailed liege went to investigate. If there were curfew breakers, it would be well within his rights for him to simply slaughter them. If nothing else, it would be a momentary distraction, something to break the monotony, something to occupy him. He moved as quietly as an assassin.

Which, to his startled amazement, was a good thing.

For a man that had caused entire planets to bow, that had caused more mayhem and destruction in his single life than many armies had in theirs, the sight before him brought him up short. He was hidden by one of those strange fern-like plants that were occasionally placed throughout the palace, as if some idiot had wanted to bring a jungle inside. He doubted he'd be very visible to the couple even if they were paying attention.

But they weren't paying any attention to anyone or anything than each other.

Lord Kakarrot's eyes were as large as twin moons as he looked on. The Demon Lord had his youngest son pinned to the inside of a small alcove where they both were, his broad back to the ruler. The youngest demi-saiyajin had his legs and tail wrapped around Piccolo's waist, his feet hooked together. One pale hand rested at the back of a green scalp, pressing for more. The other hand was clutching at the purple gi. The Demon Lord's customary hat and cape were strewn about the ground as if dumped in haste.

These things were barely registered as the warrior king watched in complete shock, waiting for the moment that the boy would start to fight back. Instead, Lord Kakarrot was floored by Goten's soft giggle of, "Piccolo, gods, more, just... Yes..."

For a moment, the father of the boy was so totally confused that he wasn't sure -what- was going on. And then he realized Piccolo had his head tilted to the side at an angle that would be just about right to be... kissing Goten's neck. The green warrior's arms seemed to be holding the demi-saiyajin up, cupping him closer, as if the wall at Goten's back wasn't good enough. The emperor knew that his jaw was open, but he couldn't seem to close it.

He continued to watch as the young prince smiled and purred, obviously enjoying whatever the tall tournament winner was doing. They were clearly both still clothed, but that didn't mean too much. Lord Kakarrot shivered slightly when he was able to actually see all of Goten's face, when he was able to see his expression. Dark eyes were half-lidded, glittering in the darkness. There was a light stripe of a blush across his features. He was smiling and gasping at the same time, giggling every now and then. The small prince ducked his head, sliding his tongue between ivory teeth in a hiss before gasping, "Um, Piccolo..."

Even from where he was standing, Lord Kakarrot could hear the low rumble that was obviously a questioning response.

"Uh... ohhh. Mmm," Goten laughed, his eyes almost dancing with light before closing in mirth. "Uh, bedroom? Now. Please?"

There was a low rumble in reply, words so deep and low that the saiyajin emperor was unable to discern them. But it caused the feared ruler to snap back to reality. He felt electric chills racing over his body, and he knew that his eyes had yet to go back to their customary size. He couldn't believe it, though. Goten. His youngest son, the one that he had never thought would sleep with anyone unless under penalty of death -- and even then it was questionable -- was obviously being VERY friendly with the Demon Lord.

Just then, Goten turned his face in the direction of the emperor, those heavy eyelids sliding up just enough for the young prince to catch the gaze of his father. Embarrassment flashed in the glazed eyes momentarily, but it was immediately replaced with something else, something Lord Kakarrot could not quite place. Their eyes locked, though Goten didn't cease his amorous activities with Piccolo, despite his knowing his father was right there, watching them. But the eye contact ceased the moment the prince closed his eyes again and moved his mouth to capture the Demon Lord's in a kiss.

Lord Kakarrot felt that final motion was a good cue for him to make his exit without being further detected. Taking great care in his movements, the full-blooded saiyajin made a strategic withdrawal. Once he was a decent distance away, a huge grin broke out onto his face. 'Finally!' he thought to himself. 'That boy is finally getting laid! Took him long enough. And the Demon Lord -is- a reasonable prospect, even with him being male and all. Oh, well. Matters not. At least Goten's having sex. Which is good. Gods! This is amazing! I never would have suspected it. Although... I somehow doubt my elder son will approve. Didn't he want that Piccolo for himself? That's what he gets for not choosing one of those princesses at my engagement party. Ha! Serves him right.'

'Honestly, though, Goten couldn't have chosen better. If the rest of Piccolo's kind is as strong as him, or even -half- as strong, they could prove invaluable allies. Even the -humans- in his company are at least moderately formidable. Better allies than enemies, I would think.' The wheels in the monarch's head spun quickly as they focused in on the strategic possibilities of his son's newly discovered activities, a welcome distraction from his previous state of fury at having to wait for his ship to be refueled. 'Hmm. Perhaps a treaty? Those haven't worked very well for my empire in the past. Always end up killing them for treachery or some other such nonsense. If there was something more substantial, however... Argh! If only I could get them to marry.'

Suddenly, a light went off in Lord Kakarrot's mind. 'Why the hell not? Why couldn't two males marry? I know of no laws against it, and even if there were, I could abolish them. I -am- emperor, after all, am I not?' A viciously intent grin broke out on the royal's smug face. 'Why not, indeed? Gohan would be displeased, of course. But Goten no longer must breed, so, really, this would be the best option for all of us. Hmm. Mustn't tell Gohan about my plans. He'd be likely to kill Goten before I returned. No. I'll tell him after I've returned with my bride and -after- I've persuaded Goten and the Demon Lord to marry. Now... How shall I get them to marry...'

***

Had it been so long? She couldn't remember the last time she felt bones crushing beneath her fingers, flesh tearing so easily. Of course, there had been so many in her lifetime. But this time... She was certain she'd remember this brutality for the rest of her unnatural life.

It had started simply enough. Once Lord Kakarrot had given her the order to 'damage' the young demi-saiyajin, she sought him out immediately, knowing that her brother wouldn't be around to stop her. It hadn't taken her long to find him. Trunks was asleep in 17's bed, completely unsuspecting. All it took was a little rope to bind his hands and feet and a bag tied off around his head to essentially incapacitate him. The little moron didn't even have it in him to scream for help, only to whisper for her brother. Not that anyone would have helped him. No one was allowed to. No one ever did, other than 17 occasionally. But he wasn't there.

It was almost amusing to her that it would come down to this. She remembered Trunks' birth. Remembered the day he lost his rights as a living being and became anyone's meat. Remembered the first time she'd seen the boy beaten and tortured. Ah, that Prince Goten. Far ahead of his time. 18 knew even when Goten was a mere child of two or three that he would eventually succeed the Royal Inquisitor of that time.

Goten had been so eager to please his family, to prove himself in their eyes. He had been the youngest, and had to suffer through his brother being the best at everything he tried. Goten had known from an early age that he was merely an understudy to his brother, someone who would only be called upon to act if all available options had been exhausted. To show that he wasn't worthless, he had sought out the slightly older demi-saiyajin, a challenge because Trunks was older and faster and had seemed slightly smarter than the youngest prince.

When 18 had walked in, fetching the boy to attend his evening meal with Gohan, she had found them. Trunks was a mess of blood and bruises, his tail broken and several patches of fur missing. Several of the royal's toys were broken, sharp pieces embedded into soft, pale flesh. Her cool eyes scanned him a moment before shrugging, "Have you broken another toy?"

She recalled at the time being taken aback by the child's retort, not fully comprehending how a child so young could be so very well spoken. He had turned to her, his dark, brandy-colored eyes shining, "I guess so. So, did you come here to be my -next- toy, or is there a reason you just barged in here?"

Trunks hadn't had a chance in hell of dodging him, even though the purple-haired boy had learned early on how to stay out of people's way and under radar. Whereas Trunks had to hide, Goten was just ignored for the most part. He had been as arrogant as the rest of his family, with a bit more anger behind his bite. But then, it had come time for someone to take over the Inquisitor's job, as the older torturer wasn't as effective as he could have been. Or as effective as Lord Kakarrot had wanted him to be.

Prince Goten was five years old.

And perhaps the Royal Inquisitor wasn't quite as inept as the emperor had previously thought. It was rumored that the older man had performed nearly every form of torture he could, though no one could ever substantiate those claims; not once did anyone ever hear the child scream or cry out. After six long years of learning everything he -could- learn about what it meant to be the Inquisitor, Goten came out of that dark, dank place... and everyone discovered what Trunks had long ago. There was a marked change to the prince, something not overtly noticeable. His eyes were no longer brandy-colored, more like the murky dark of a forest at night. He wasn't as large as the rest of his family, but after coming out of that subterranean torture chamber, his physical size no longer mattered.

At the emperor's insistence, Prince Gohan led the Ginyu Force down into the dungeon in search of the Inquisitor; they discovered he was dead. And he clearly did not die from anything typically natural. Gohan returned with the Ginyu Force barely behind him, mostly shaking and desperately trying to avoid vomiting on the glass-like main hall floor. Those warriors, battle-hardened from planet purging missions, feared across the cosmos, came out of that place clearly shaken.

Gohan nonchalantly approached his father, holding something pinched between a gloved thumb and forefinger at arm's length away from his body. His face being absolutely void of any emotion, the eldest prince apathetically plopped the long, reddish-pink object at the emperor's feet, stepping a few feet back afterwards. Lord Kakarrot snarled in disgust. "What. Is. That."

"The old man's tongue," Gohan replied. "I think."

The monarch's jaw jutted out, and he rolled his eyes in irritation. "And where is the old man, Gohan?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. Further back in the court, the Ginyu Force was barely hanging on by a thread, each face an ashen grey, bodies convulsing with not-so-dry heaves. Gesturing towards the bloody appendage with a jerk of his head, Gohan continued, "That's all there was."

"I see."

After a few moments in which not a soul uttered a single sound, the eldest prince nudged the tongue with the toe of his boot. "You know, we should... probably... have it sanitized."

"The tongue?"

"The dungeon, father."

"Oh. Of course," he nodded. "See that it's taken care of, will you?"

"Of course, milord," bowed his eldest.

"And where is Goten?" Lord Kakarrot inquired, looking around himself. The royal jerked back in his seat just slightly. Standing a few feet off to the side and behind the throne was the young prince, looking for all the world like he was incredibly bored with the proceedings. 'Gods! I had no idea he was even there!' Had one of his lessons been to learn how to move as silent as the grave? "Come here, son."

Goten approached slowly, calmly, with a confidence and countenance that bespoke of someone three times his age. Kneeling next to the throne, he was rewarded with a firm pat to the head. Lord Kakarrot smirked as he addressed the child, "Well done, my son. You will be the greatest Royal Inquisitor this empire has ever seen."

The young prince never did let up on Trunks after that. But unlike the many brutes who had beaten and raped the lavender-haired child, Goten never descended to that level. His games were just as painful, to be sure. However, Trunks was never close to death once the prince was finished with torturing him for the day; he only wished for death. And he was not alone. Many had witnessed the aftereffects of one of Goten's torture sessions. Sometimes, there was more blood than any physical body had a right to contain. Sometimes, there was nothing left of the victim. And sometimes, it seemed like nothing had been done at all, but the injured party was nothing more than a blinking, breathing vegetable.

It was no wonder that the child scared the living daylights out of the entire empire.

Goten may have frightened the empire, but none more so than the slightly older demi-saiyajin. Trunks was hunted, daily. Persecuted by the younger boy by day, but by night, he had more than simply Prince Goten with which to contend. While the prince was going through the hell of the dungeons, Trunks had become the favorite prey of many of the stronger warriors around the palace. Beaten nearly to death on several occasions, bones broken, blood leaking from his mouth and his nose. But then eventually, his tormentors figured out a new method of pain: the sexual kind.

In retrospect, 18 decided it was rather distasteful to rape someone when they weren't even a decade old yet. Even if it was Trunks.

Trunks, even though he welcomed death's embrace for the solace it might have brought him, was never allowed to cross that line. Strangely enough, the boy never got stronger either, or if he did, he was never able to tap into that strength to defend himself. What good was power, if he didn't know how to use it? And it was very apparent to the blonde android that he had no clue how to use whatever strength, mediocre as it might have been, to defend himself as she tore into his body.

***

17 silently stalked through the palace hallways, checking every dark corner, every place he'd known Trunks to frequent. Where was he?

At first, he was puzzled that Trunks had not been asleep in his bed as 17 normally found him practically every night. Yet even on those nights when he wasn't there, he usually showed up within a few minutes of 17's arrival, so the raven-haired android decided to wait a bit.

Half an hour was too long.

Out of sheer concern, he began to look for the demi-saiyajin, even checking in with the humans, though it -was- strange to find one of those clone-like replacement guards standing outside of Krillin's room. 'What's that moron doing there? Where's 18?'

He didn't spare more than a passing thought for that since his sister's whereabouts were not at the foremost of his worries; Trunks' were. But he was running out of places to look, and more time had passed than he would've liked, doing nothing but making him more and more uneasy with each ephemeral minute. Had anyone been stupid enough to have been out and about at that ungodly hour, they would have seen something they'd never seen before: a severely agitated and nearly frantic Android 17.

'Where the hell is Trunks?' he wondered.

***

There was blood on the walls. There was blood on the floor. There was blood staining her uniform; she could feel it beginning to stick to her through the material. There was blood staining the bag still tied up around her victim's head.

But that wasn't enough. Trunks wasn't damaged enough. He had been taken from 17's room wearing a pair of standard sleeping pants, but those were mere ribbons of tattered memories now. His body was streaked with scratches and abrasions and fresh, blossoming bruises. The boy's ankle was broken, and his foot was crushed. There were ribs broken, and his breathing sounded a bit bubbly, as if there was liquid involved. Yet, the android continued forth with her command, knowing that Trunks wasn't hurt enough yet. He simply couldn't be hurt enough.

Trunks still had his hands tied up behind him, yet he continued to try and crawl away. He sobbed quietly against the pain, tears adding to the wetness of the dark bag that stole light and air from him. He felt liquid in his mouth and allowed it to drool outwards, intent on the simple task of getting away. He had to get away. He had to get to 17. 17 would make it all better. 17 would take away the pain. 17...

"You know, Trunks," 18 said as she stalked around her prey, allowing him to think that he might be able to get away, "I sometimes wondered if your whore mother ever told you of your human history. Granted, you're part saiyajin, but you're so weak that you must be more human than saiyajin. So, did she ever teach you of her culture? Her people? Is that where you learned to live your life on your back?"

When Trunks did not reply, she sent a swift kick to his sides, cracking the few ribs that were still unbroken, and causing the boy to cry out in pain. She let a small smile grace her features as she watched him curl up into a little ball, whimpering.

"Did she read to you? Tell you stories? Sing you songs?" the blonde android asked. She didn't wait for an answer, simply taking it upon herself to kick him in the head. Trunks flew across the room and crashed into the far wall. She sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. She walked over to him, her booted feet making sharp clacking noises as heals came down. "I've read some of the earth nursery rhymes."

Trunks was having trouble breathing, and the room was spinning so badly he knew he was going to be sick, but only if he was able to get in enough air to actually manage it. He was hot and cold at the same time and he knew that 18 was still talking but he couldn't hear what she was saying even though it was important that he listen otherwise she was going to hurt him some more and he didn't want that. He wanted 17. Where was 17?

"Come to think of it, you remind me of one of them," 18 remarked coolly as she waited for some kind of response. "Would you like to hear it?"

Trunks reeled as he felt hard hands grab him by the arms, throwing his back up against a cold, hard surface.

"Of course you want to hear it," the android guard answered for the wheezing youth. She hadn't really cared if she got an answer or not, as she was going to tell it to him either way. She took a deep breath as she began. "Humpty dumpty sat on a wall…"

The demi-saiyajin was suddenly airborne for a moment, before he met up with yet another wall. Trunks heard the sound of bone breaking before he actually felt the pain. He tried to scream in pain, but all that came out was a burbling froth.

"Humpty Dumpty had a great fall," 18 said as she grabbed an already broken lavender tail. It made a sweet, sickly sound as yet another small tailbone snapped. Yet, she still didn't hear a scream of pain. Frowning lightly, she let him fall to the floor before introducing her shin to his head. Trunks fell across the floor, rolling to his side. With narrowed eyes, she stalked towards him. "And all the king's horses... And all the king's men... Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again."

She stood directly over the boy, listening to his breath gurgle. "From what I understand, Humpty Dumpty was supposed to be an egg, but the rhyme serves just as well in this case. Because, there won't be any king's men coming to try and patch you up. And the horses around here, though brighter than your average soldier, won't touch you either. No one's going to put you together again."

Her empty doll eyes stared down at him, reminding her of that time, so long ago, when she had seen Trunks in Goten's room. She raised her hand slightly, and against her open palm, a ball of golden light began to form. Not even realizing she was speaking aloud, 18 softly mumbled to herself, "Looks like I've broken my toy..."

***

For a man who didn't need to breathe to survive, 17 found himself taking quite a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. He had to stay in control. He couldn't panic though he was more than ready to do just that. He was standing in the middle of an intersection between halls, and he didn't know which way to go. He kept turning around, wondering if one way would be better than another, and all he could come up with was more questions that followed along the same lines of, 'Where the hell is Trunks?'

It was well after the hour of curfew, and none of the local fighters were allowed out of their rooms. Trunks -should- have been in bed! Biting his lower lip, 17 looked around again. But there were no answers springing forth.

The dark-haired android hadn't felt this helpless for as long as he could remember, and he could remember far longer than most. There was more to it than just helplessness, though. There was also frustration. And fear. And concern. It wasn't as if he was hunting Trunks down so that they could cuddle, though that would have been nice. He was hunting Trunks down so that no one else would. He wanted Trunks safe, and the only place that 17 could think of that -was- safe was in his room.

'What if something happened to Trunks?' 17 fretted. Acting on impulse, the blue-eyed guard activated his scouter and actually scanned the surrounding areas of the palace, the range on his device being that of one square mile. He scanned for both chi and for energy spikes, something that almost all of the other of the palace denizens never did. It was one of the few ways to find either him or his sister.

He found his sister not too far away from where he was, located in one of the further, more durable rooms of the palace. Her energy reading was building up, as if she was sparring. Dark eyebrows lowered in confusion as 17 wondered who in their right mind would willingly spar with his sister. And at -that- hour. He didn't give it too much thought as he went after her, hoping beyond hope that she might know where his Trunks was. He doubted it, but he was out of options with nowhere else to turn and she might have a clue.

The room his sister was in was down a long, darkened hallway, as was usually the case for the older, more guarded rooms. No one wanted visitors there, so why make it inviting? The android moved with a quite grace that did not detract one iota from his speed. He came upon the heavy stone doors of the room and pressed against them. To his surprise, they were barred. Without bothering to even consider the consequences of interrupting a sparring match between his sister and even the emperor himself, 17 simply blasted the doors inward. He ran a few steps forward...

And then stopped dead in his tracks.

On the ground, almost dead, lay Trunks. His ankles were tied together, and one foot was obviously crushed. His torso was barely recognizable as it was sliced up and stretched out, highlighted by the fact that his delicate wrists were bound behind his back. The playful lavender tail was mangled almost to the point that it was liquid. Body fluids pooled around the still form.

For a moment, 17 couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except wait for some kind of signal that Trunks was still alive. When he saw the body give a slight shudder, 17 moved. Fast. He was on his knees, undoing the bag around his lover's head with hands that were shaking. He didn't realize that he was murmuring, "Please be all right. Please be all right."

Beside him, and totally unnoticed, 18 stood, an energy sphere still glowing in her hand. She took a cautious step back, away from her brother and his pet half-breed. She continued to step back until the shadows of the room enveloped her in a cloak she hoped would protect her. For the first time she realized the severity of the wounds she had inflicted. For the first time, she realized that the lack of responses from earlier hadn't been an act of defiance, but had been a result of inability. For the first time, she began to worry.

Bruised blue eyes blinked blearily up, seeing light again. There was pain. So much pain. And he couldn't breathe. Trunks tried to inhale once the bag was removed from his head, but he couldn't get any air into his lungs. He turned his head to the side, coughing up blood. He flinched as he saw a pale hand come towards his face, but instead of being hurt as he was expecting, the hand merely brushed his matted hair out of his face and pulled it back behind his head. That's when Trunks realized that 17 was there.

"It'll be all right. It'll be all right," 17 repeated, fervently hoping that it would be. But with a quick catalog of just the apparent injuries, they synthetic warrior realized that there was actually very little reality to those words. Wild blue eyes looked down as Trunks opened his mouth to talk to him, but all that came out of the demi-saiyajin was the softest of gasps. "Please...please be all right, Trunks. Please don't die. Don't leave me."

17 was there. Trunks tried to say something, but he couldn't get any air. Plus, he was tired and in pain and really only wanted to sleep. He found that his hands were still bound, as he tugged weakly against the bonds. He wished his hands weren't tied, so that he could just touch 17. So that he could say in some way that he was okay, that it was all going to be okay. He knew 17 was holding him, keeping all harm away from him. He was safe. He was with 17.

She had her back to the wall, and there was nowhere to go. Not that she could have moved at that moment, anyway. She was in slight shock. She looked on in mute horror as her brother, the strong one, the rational one, the best of them, began to weep like a small organic child, repeatedly begging the mongrel half-breed not to die. She rather hoped that Trunks lived, if only so that she wouldn't be punished by Lord Kakarrot. Though, with 17 walking in on this, he would probably take it personally, even though the emperor assured her that he wouldn't.

Trunks frowned slightly, noticing that he couldn't hear what 17 was saying. He could see the android's lips moving, but he couldn't make out any sound. And there were tears. Why were there tears? He tried to breathe again, but again his body didn't want to work properly. Instead of talking, he merely looked up at his lover, not really seeing the android. All he could see was the man. He wished he could reach up and brush 17's hair out of his face, because it had somehow gotten loose, and he knew that 17 hated having his hair fall in his face. He began to cough again, weakly. He just couldn't stop coughing...

The dark-haired android bowed his head, hot tears streaming down his face. Trunks lay still in his arms, his blue eyes opened, staring upward at him. There was a slight frown on the demi-saiyajin's face, as if he was blaming 17 for not getting there in time, even though he understood that the android couldn't always be there for him. 17 closed both of their eyes, but he knew the guilt would always be there. He should have been there. He should have gotten there sooner. The ebony-haired android knew where his sister stood, almost hidden by the shadows in the room. He'd have known where she was even if the room was cast in pitch. He cradled Trunks' still form closer to him selfishly, denying her any rights to it. It was completely irrational, but he didn't feel like being rational. He wanted to be irrational. She had just stolen the ONLY thing that made him feel alive! He was allowed to be a bit irrational! Fighting the clawing ache at the back of his throat, 17 whispered into Trunks' hair, "I hope you're satisfied. He's dead."

"It was not my intent to kill him," 18 answered, looking away from the huddled form in front of her. She forced herself to look back, though, as this was her brother. He wouldn't hurt her, especially over something as trivial as a lover. But when 17 raised his head, the shadows of the room seemed to embrace him, and only the glowing red of his eyes revealed how enraged he was. "Lord Kakarrot--"

"Is dead," 17 snarled, throwing an overly powerful energy sphere straight at his unsuspecting sister. She barely had time to register the attack before it hit her square in the midsection, bisecting her. He watched, in a detached anger, as her two halves separated, and then flew apart. There was a good four feet between where her upper half fell and where her lower half sprawled. They had been together for all of their lives, siblings. They had bickered and fought, trying to test the limits of they cybernetic enhancements. Trunks had made him alive, though! And now Trunks was dead. "Just like you are."

Gingerly, 17 picked up Trunks' body, as if it was some delicate treasure that would crumble at any moment if not taken proper care of. With silent, quick steps, the android escaped into the night. He had things to do before he could rest. Plans to make. People to kill.

He never looked back.