Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Silver Terror ❯ Battle ( Chapter 3 )

Hope is beauty

Personified

At her feet, the world:

Hypnotized.

~ Apocalyptica - `Hope'

Hope

Time was ticking away. He could not help it, but every passing second strengthened his feeling of impending doom.

Future Trunks was standing on a hill, a bit apart from the others. The sky was crisp and clear as he stared into the distance. He knew it would be soon now - he did not have the exact time, but they would land in less than half an hour. So he was watching, and waiting.

The spring wind was whipping through his hair and clothes - on this height it was a lot colder, and he remembered that this spring wasn't all that warm anyhow. It hadn't been the first time, and it wasn't warm now, either.

It's just like way back when, when we were waiting for the Androids, Gohan broadcasted. His mental voice was tinged with both worry and excitement.

There are some parallels, agreed Piccolo.

Damn right there are, Trunks thought bitterly. He wished they would shut up. He felt wired and impatient - he just wanted to get this over with. Over the past three years, the wait had been killing him slowly. He had trained, he had gotten stronger and better, he had become a total master of telepathy (better than most of the others), and he had awaited and dreaded this day's coming. And now it was here.

They were all here. The saiya-jin Z-Senshi, powered up beyond any belief, were all stationed on this hill somewhere.

Bulma, Marron and Bra were in hiding with Piccolo and Dende. They were close by - acting as last a sort of backup.

Bulma had joked that she'd be their cheerleader, but actually had the silver armor with her as a last ditch effort. They were still not sure what one could do with the armor because it was still in an experimental state. They had not dared to use it for testing, because of the legends surrounding the metal.

Marron had wanted to fight, too. Her parents had eventually agreed that she could help out in the time of need - she could activate the Dragonballs, because Dende was with them. They weren't taking any chances.

Bra was with them, too. She was a stronger telepath than any of the fighters save Trunks (and maybe Goku or Vegeta), and so she acted as a sort of overseer of the battle. She would try to penetrate the mental shields of the Terror with relentless assault. It seemed wrong to use such a young and innocent child like such a weapon, Trunks had argued, but Gohan had given him a flat look and flatly commented that he had been fighting such wars since he had been four years old. He had managed, and so would she. And if they'd lose the war, they would all die anyway, he had added. Trunks had to agree on that matter. And Bra had not minded. She had wanted to fight, she had assured him. She had wanted to do something, to be useful. And she was not alone.

She and Piccolo would give their mental all to support them.

`Can't I come to the picnic?' Bra had asked, big blue eyes trying to persuade him.

`Next time, little one,' Trunks had assured her. `Today it's going to be just Marron and me.'

`Is Marron your girlfriend?'

Trunks had laughed. `No, we're just friends. She's too young, I think.'

`She's not! She's fourteen!'

`And I am eighteen. That's too old for her.'

Bra had wrinkled her nose. `You're silly,' she had declared and left the room.

It had been the last time he had seen his little sister, until he woke up in another timeline.

No! Focus!

He couldn't be plagued by memories of that fateful day. Not now - he needed to remain sane today. He needed to be all there, in tiptop shape. His mind had to be a weapon as finely honed as his body was otherwise he would not stand a chance.

He needed to focus. He needed to focus. He needed to…

`Did you feel that?' they blurted out simultaneously with equally breathless voices. Marron, who had been behind the wheel of the capsule car, nearly crashed them into a nearby tree when they felt the explosion of ki coming from behind them. She kicked on the brakes mercilessly, sprawling herself over the steering wheel.

Trunks felt dizzy because of the sudden jolt of adrenaline in his system. All that power, all of a sudden. `This… Oh Dende,' he stuttered.

`Where does it come from?' asked Marron, looking over her shoulder.

`Capsule Corp!' they both realized at the same time.

Trunks did not waste any time. He threw himself out of the car. `I'll fly back!' he yelled at her, taking off as quickly as he could. This was not good. Not good at all. This did not feel as a simple sparring match between Goku and Vegeta. This was way beyond it. Way beyond anything he had ever felt before.

The kiburst of Marron breaking into flight was drowned in the powerplay before him.

And as he hurried through the sky as fast as he could, he knew he was going to be too late.

And there it was.

The ship broke through the atmosphere. It seemed to burn up for a moment, but then shot down to the earth below.

"There they are," he sighed.

Let's go and show those silver twerps what we're made of, Vegeta proposed. He was the first to take off into the direction of the spaceship. The rest followed not far behind.

Trunks watched them go for a few heartbeats before he pursued them.

Be well, he told his sister and Marron silently.

We will, Bra answered. She sounded amazingly serene and calm. You just take care.

I will, he assured her.

Would he?

There were four of them, he saw, instead the five he had initially thought there would be. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight. They were just standing there for a moment - probably contemplating on what to destroy first, he thought bitterly. I'll kill you this time, he decided. You won't destroy my life *again*.

The Z-Senshi powered up before they touched the ground. The air crackled with pure energy. For a moment they just locked gazes with those inhuman, silver faces.

Then Trunks felt his younger counterpart burst into brighter flames. "Hello, you are now on planet Earth," the boy said. "Which is ours. Get the fuck out of here." A Final Flash filled the air with its light and scorching heat. One of the Terrors simply extended its hand and deflected the attack. It shot into the air without doing any harm.

Young Trunks shrugged, as if he had expected this. "Come and dance with us," he invited, beckoning Goten. They performed their fusion dance with practiced ease and fused into Gotenks. "Come on, don't be shy," the fused being grinned, crackling with power.

After that, the fight ensued, and Trunks did not have time to look at the others anymore.

At one point he felt that Vegeta and Goku had fused, and that Gohan was fending off one Terror on his own as he was doing.

Trunks focused into the face of the Terror as he fought. The adrenaline filled his veins, and bloodlust clouded his mind. For a while there was nothing but the fight. The kicks, the punches, the energy and the dance. For a while it was beautiful, and he reveled in it.

The Terror wasn't using all of its power yet, but that did not matter. Neither did Trunks. They were testing each other out - or rather, the Terror was testing him, and Trunks was testing his own powers.

`Don't worry Marron,' he sobbed in his memory. `I will make everything right again…'

Revenge. He would avenge her.

No more play. He would end this here, today. On this fateful day, three years ago, the world had ended. It would not happen today. Not this way.

He opened his mind and assaulted the Silver Terror mercilessly. A surprise attack.

~Confusion. Pain.~

YES!

Bra! Piccolo! He called out. Help me!

I am supporting Gohan, he felt Piccolo's mind respond. The Namek sounded distracted and yet focused. He became aware of the battle Gohan was fighting - it was a nasty one. His Terror did not seem to bother with testing, it just went all-out. Through the link with Piccolo, he felt Gohan's pain and determination. It only lasted a moment, until Bra responded.

I am here, she told him, and fortified both his mind shields and his attack. It felt like an embrace, almost like a lover. While punches and kicks and ki connected with metal, never leaving a mark, the beating on the mind shields continued. The Terror had pulled up its shields immediately after the initial attack, but they were penetrable. Both Bra and Trunks had found weak spots to hammer upon. Their fight seemed to relocate itself, they danced away from the other battles.

It seemed to last for ages. Tirelessly he fired and danced around the Terror. Both kept powering up and testing each other, while the earth below them moaned and shuddered.

He tasted blood in his mouth. Had he bitten on his tongue in the process? It did not matter. His fists were bleeding, too, and he was bruising in a myriad places. That did not matter either. He was alive and fighting.

Not too long from now he would tire down and then it would get harder, but for now he still went strong, and he almost, almost enjoyed the feeling of pounding on the object of his fear for so long.

A strange feeling of separating ki told him that first young Trunks and Goten broke out of their fusion, and then Goku and Vegeta. It caused the Terror to look up in confusion for a moment. Trunks took his chance to pop a sensu bean in his mouth and felt fresh energy course through his veins. The pain momentarily vanished.

How is the battle going on the other fronts? He asked his sister.

Bra sounded worried. Now that the fusion wore off, they're in trouble. I don't think my brother and Goten are a match for them unfused. We need to do something.

And Gohan was in pain, too, he felt, dropping his mind shields for just one heartbeat. Vegeta and Goku were doing alright, but it seemed that Gohan had encountered the strongest of the Terror. Are there gradations of power among them? He wondered.

He felt a sudden surge of admiration coming from the Terror. It seemed to be directed elsewhere.

Oh yes, there were gradations. There was a hierarchy - he had just never noticed before, because he had always seen just one or two of them together.

He needed to finish this one off so he could help Gohan. Maybe they could fuse?

The thoughts and realizations came to him all in that same heartbeat that his Terror was distracted.

I can beat you, he thought vehemently at the Terror. I will make you suffer.

The Terror turned to face him again. It still did not talk or show any emotion, frustratingly enough. But instead it made a gesture that indicated `come and get me'. And so Trunks did, hope surging through his mind, strengthening every blow he dealt.

Pain and glory

Hand in hand

A sacrifice

The highest price

~ Apocalyptica - `Hope'

Despair

The wind whistled in his ears as he plummeted towards his enemy. The air smelled like ozone and lightning when the Final Flash exploded from his outstretched hands. His blood was singing and flowing alike. Bra was in his mind, reassuring and alive.

"Die," growled Trunks, filling the sky with short bursts of light. The ki sizzled and crackled - then exploded as it connected with the Terror. The energy looked gloriously violet as it shimmered on the armor, the moment it exploded. This time, the Terror winced and came back more violently than before.

He's angry, said Bra. I think you're hurting him.

I'd better be, Trunks thought back. He was tiring down, becoming slower - he could feel it. Blood and bruises were reappearing, and the battle fever was making place for fatigue. He needed to end this, and he needed to end this quickly.

The Terror came down upon him once more, a whirlwind of pain and fury. Trunks danced around him, hoping to deflect most of the anger, but he failed. All that was left was blocking and trying to find an opening, then.

Bra's venomous voice startled him when she spoke. Like it on Earth? It took him a moment before he realized she was talking to the Terror. She must have found an opening. He found one now, as well - a well-placed kick to the jaw, before he somersaulted away.

Bra's laughter filled his mind. There's a lot more where that came from. Scared yet?

~Rejection. Repulsion. Anger. Strong, pure hate~.

The feelings crashed over him like a cold shower, but they were mostly deflected by his mind shields. Bra, who had built her own walls within Trunks' defenses, laughed again. Her girlish giggle made a stark contrast to the mature way in with she spoke. She reminded him of their mother today. Oh my, am I distracting you? So sorry. Oh, wait, I am not.

"Fuck you and the spaceship you came on," Trunks added, letting Bra handle the mental assault. She seemed to be able to handle it alone, now that she had found an opening, and he needed all of his energy in this fight.

Yes, Bra gasped, as he felt her slip from his mind. She was moving somewhere - where?

No matter. He kicked, and kicked, and punched, and even clawed at the Terror. It seemed to be slower now. What the hell was Bra doing?

He twirled away from the silver-clad nemesis, and powered up for another blast. This one took some time. Precious time which he had not had earlier in this fight. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? It always came down to time. Time and Destiny.

Trunks smelled the ozone again as a blue light formed around his hands. "I'll get you…" he whispered. "Eat this. This will end it."

Suddenly, the Silver Terror let out a bloodcurdling scream. The sound made Trunks' neck hair stand on end, and he almost dropped his energy in surprise.

NOW! His own mind, and Bra's voice, shouted in unison.

And so he did. He unleashed all his hate and anger with his new ultimate attack. "Burning HELL!" he screamed, in time with the pain and the terror of his enemy. As he released the energy, he felt the mind shields of the Terror drop, and a flood of thoughts and emotions rolled over him. It consisted mostly of hate and insanity. Bra retreated, but Trunks rode the wave of emotions and kept pouring his soul into the ki-blast. This should end it, he thought again. It had to.

And it did.

Finally, blessedly, the Silver Terror vaporized in the blue light.

Only specs of dust and light remained.

He needs mind control over the armor, Bra said, sounding tired. Without mind control, he's nothing. Well, he's still strong, but he's a match for you.

We beat him, Trunks thought. Wonder filled his heart, until he thought he'd burst with joy. Marron, do you see me? I avenged you, I did it, I finally did it just for you. I promised I'd make things right again, and I did, I-

Trunks! Bra called, pulling him out of his reverie. There is more to do, listen to the battle!

He opened his mind to become aware of the world around him. Gone was the secluded little world that had only allowed the existence of Bra, the Terror, and himself. Information and sensations rained down on him. To the south, Goku and Vegeta - holding their own in battle with a Terror.

Not far to the east: Gotenks. They had apparently found the time to fuse again. That was a good thing - although the battle was rough and hard, and Gotenks was battered, bruised, and severely ticked off.

And to the north: the joined minds of Gohan and Piccolo. And this felt wrong. Gohan was exhausted. Piccolo was pouring energy into him instead of assaulting the Terror. The Namek was one of the greatest tactical minds they had - he wouldn't spend his time on giving Gohan energy if the situation wasn't very dire. Gohan was losing. Trunks became aware of blood-flecked spit and broken ribs, of exhaustion and the struggle for oxygen.

Gohan needs us, Bra said worriedly. She sounded very, very tired now.

Yes he does, admitted Trunks, popping another sensu bean. He'd need it, if he wanted to back up Gohan. He was fighting the strongest of them and he needed the best Trunks could offered for backup. To his frustration, Trunks noticed that the sensu was not quite ripe yet. It was his last one and all he had, and it took a while for the bean to start working.

Valuable seconds ticked away while he concentrated on Gohan for mind support, while he waited for his body to heal. Gohan's mind was raw and bruised. It was filled with images of Pan and Videl, safely hidden with the others somewhere down the earth. Was it a cave? He was fighting for them, defending his family with all his strength. He had forbidden either of them to be around. If all should fail, they could search for the Dragonballs. If everyone else would die, including Marron and Bra and Bulma, they would be the backup. Gohan had wanted to keep them safe - and they kept him sane throughout his pain.

Why aren't you doing anything? Bra asked impatiently. Fatigued as she was, she was determined to keep fighting. She definitely had her father's spirit - once she set her mind to something, she refused to back down.

He was about to send her a thought about the bean, when he suddenly felt an explosion. A ki explosion.

It scorched him - the earth trembled… it severed a tie… and over the mind connection, Piccolo let out a horrible scream that was filled with grief, loss and burning anger.

What happened?! Bra shouted in disbelief.

But of course they both knew already.

Neither of them could feel Gohan's ki signature anymore.

Gohan had been killed.

*

Bulma nearly suffered from a heart attack when her daughter suddenly burst into tears and began to shriek. She immediately threw her arms around the little girl, fearing the worst. Her nightmares were coming true. "Shh be silent, sweetie. You don't want them to hear us," she whispered.

Bra just sobbed, clinging to her mother desperately.

Over Bra's shoulder, she exchanged a look with Marrons shocked blue eyes. "What happened?" the blond girl asked breathlessly.

Only a minute ago, Bra had been ultimately concentrated, determined, and even smiling nastily. She had been very… Saiya-jin. A lot like Vegeta, really. It had soothed her fears and given her hope. But now this… an explosion had occurred and Bra was breaking down. Bulma wondered who had died. Her stomach clenched into a tight ball. If it was Vegeta or Trunks… or future Trunks… or Goku… or…

"Gohan is dead," her daughter cried, almost exploding with grief. She was filled so deeply with it that she did not know what to do with herself. She pounded against her mother's shoulders, trying to channel her pain. Bulma suffered through the attack of despair, even though it hurt her extremely.

Gohan.

She remembered a shy four year old boy with a tail that hid behind his fathers legs on the beach, peeking out curiously. He had a hat on with the four-star dragonball on it, looking unbelievably cute.

She remembered a boy, as old as her own daughter, who had defeated the monster called Cell, losing his father in the process. That boy had been broken by grief, yet shimmering with a rage and power and intelligence that was unnaturally bright.

She remembered that same boy, years later, looking noble and tall and handsome, through a veil of her own tears while he slipped a ring on the finger of a beautiful darkhaired girl. He looked so proud and beautiful that day. She had shared handkerchiefs with Hercule Satan that day, sniffling and blowing their noses together.

And now Gohan was dead.

She could not believe it.

But her daughter had to calm down. The battle was still raging, and her loved ones needed her. She beckoned Dende to support Marron, while she herself told Bra sharply: "We still have the Dragonballs, silly girl, and the others need you. Come back to your senses, Bra Briefs, NOW."

Liquid blue eyes looked up at her, tears streaming over her young face. "He's dead," she hiccupped. For the first time, Bulma detected fear on her daughter's face. And fatigue. "The Terror's too strong. We'll all die," Bra gasped.

"Of course not," she snapped. "Unless you want to give up now?"

"I don't think I can fight anymore…"

"Of course you can. Dende, heal my daughter, she needs her strength."

The young Namek looked troubled. "I don't think I can heal the fatigue of the mind, Bulma. She's not injured."

"So what?" Bulma lashed out. "Try it anyway!"

A warm light enveloped the Namek's hands and made Bra tinge golden. The young girl closed her eyes for a moment, letting the healing light wash over her. For a moment, she looked beautiful in the golden light - was this what she would look like, if she would have the ability to transform into Super Saiya-jin, Bulma wondered.

Bra opened her eyes. "I feel better, but still tired. I don't think…"

"Stop jabbering and fucking concentrate on the fight, Bra! They need your help!" Bulma shouted, losing her patience.

"Right," her daughter said, suddenly all professional again. "Piccolo is grieving. Someone should go to him."

"I'll go," offered Dende.

Marron wiped the tears from her face. "I'll go with you," she said, and they left quickly.

"Goten and Trunks need help too. I'll ask Trunks to back them up," Bra continued, focusing again. Her eyes had a distant look, and her face wrinkled into a frown of concentration. "Trunks, hurry!"

*

Goten and Trunks just broke out of their second fusion when they felt the unthinkable happen. Gohans ki vanished.

"He's dead!" Goten choked out, falling on his knees on the rocky ground. His ki level dropped like a stone.

Trunks was too slow to shield him from the blow that the Terror dealt his friend. The loss doubled their disorientation from breaking out of the fusion. He simply had not seen it coming. A flash of silver, and blood went spraying. Goten rolled over in the dirt like a rag doll, and his body crashed into a nearby boulder. Dust filled the air.

"Goten!" Trunks shouted.

He had no time to think, because the Terror descended upon him. He felt malice and hate flowing out of the Terror, but had no chance to try and do anything to it mentally - he needed all his concentration on the fight. And the grief kept hammering in his head: Gohan is dead, Goten is down….

It distracted him, and it gave the Terror a large advantage.

How the hell was he supposed to fight when such an emotional blow was dealt?

Blows and kicks were raining down on him. He was struggling to defend and block, but too many punches and kicks were coming through. Trunks tasted blood in his mouth. He could not believe that it would end like this.

*

Vegeta had just dealt the Terror an extremely powerful kick, sending the creature reeling through the air and crashing into a nearby mountain. Vegeta used the time he had created to send a Final Flash after the Terror - when he felt something snap.

Goku, who had been powering up a Kamehameha, suddenly went very still. All the color drained from his face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost. "….Gohan…?" he whispered over bloodless lips.

There's no time for this, Kakarot, he reminded his old rival. We'll bring him back later.

But the other Saiya-jin did not respond to that at all. It was as if Goku's mind went totally blank - he did not move at all.

"Kakarot!" Vegeta hissed.

Still no response.

The Terror emerged from the mountain.

"Damn you Kakarot! There's a battle going on here!"

There really was no time for this. Vegeta boosted his ki and went at the Terror alone this time. There was no one to back him up mentally, but he gave it all he had and fought for all he was worth. Kakarot will come around later, he thought. The fool has always been too damn soft-heartedly. Too easily distracted. I don't mind, I'll just kill that twerp myself. Telepathy backup or not, I'll kill you, he vowed.

He felt Goten's kilevel drop, as well.

And then his own son began broadcasting pain and despair.

It was then that the Prince of all Saiya-jins began to taste bitter fear on his tongue.

Like a whisper

she was gone

Like an angel,

and angels fall

~ Apocalyptica - `Hope'

Angels fall

There are some advantages to being presumed dead. The good thing about it, for example, is that no one takes you in account, which is very useful when you want to move stealthily.

Goten found this out while he was wriggling himself out of the mountain. He kept his kilevel deliberately lower than the average human and built a wall around his mind, so he could not be detected by anyone. His heart was beating in his throat while he ran to the place where he knew Dende would be hiding. He had to rest rather frequently, because his surpressed ki-level robbed him from his energy. He was battling dizziness and the pain from his injuries, and it was frustrating him to no end. Time was precious now: he was currently too weak to take on anyone, he had no sensu beans on him, and Trunks was dying.

The Terror had left his friend to die, and Goten was absolutely terrified by that particular idea. He climbed the hill as fast as he could to the secluded range of boulders where the others would be. Trunks needed Dende's healing powers, and he needed them quickly. It was too late for his brother, but Goten would rather slit his wrists than let his friend die as well. He could still feel Vegeta battling nearby: a little too close for comfort, really. It seemed like explosions were occurring all around him. His nerves were fraying and he was about to reach the end of his rope when he almost stumbled over Bulma and Bra.

Two identical pairs of shocked blue eyes locked on him, not seeming to believe what they were seeing. Where were the others?

"Where's Dende?" he inquired. "Quick, there isn't much time."

"He's with Piccolo," Bulma responded. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not, but Trunks almost is. Where the hell is Piccolo?"

"He's a little downhill, on the east side," Bra said. She looked sad, tired, and very, very young. Goten had to resist the urge to hug her and tell her it would be alright. "I'll tell him that you're coming."

"No need," Goten said flatly. "I can find him myself. They can't know I'm alive. Not until I've been healed and Trunks is helped. Until then, I'm dead meat. I want them to know that." And with that, he departed, almost tumbling down the hill in his hurry to get to the Namekians.

*

What do you do when you see your loved ones fall all over again to the hands of your worst nemesis? What do you do when you see the nightmare of three years ago occur all over again?

Future Trunks did not know the answer to that. Bra's grief exploded in his head before his own could, and for a few heartbeats he was too busy fighting off her pain to do anything else. She retreated quickly to her own mind, and that's when his own anguish hit him.

So what are you supposed to feel if a thing like this happens?

Anger? Pain? Despair? All of them?

Trunks just responded in the only way a Saiya-jin prince could: he roared in anger and used his pain to fuel his strength and sharpen his mind. It was all he could do.

The Silver Terror would pay for this. Dearly.

Screaming, Trunks took flight to where Gohan had fallen.

His father would have been proud of him.

*

Young Trunks was blurring in and out of consciousness. Fragments of thoughts, dreams and conversations were playing through his head, until he did not know anymore whether he was awake or not. There was a taste of blood and dirt in his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but failed. An attempt to open his eyes failed just as horribly. The light was too bright, and silver migraine spots were dancing around his vision.

I am dying. This is really it, he thought weakly. What a sucky way to go. There's so much I still want to do.

"You're not dying, Trunks," Marron told him. Her voice was sweet and gentle.

"Yes I am," he protested. Did he say it out loud, or was it all in his mind. "It's a pity really. I haven't even gotten around to kiss you yet."

She laughed. "Don't worry, we'll get to that later."

He really had heard it. It was real! Trunks opened his eyes and squinted at his surroundings. Most of the world was black and silver, but he did see Marron's blue eyes. She looked worried. "Dende's here, Trunks. He's going to heal you."

"Where?" He touched around blindly, pain shooting through his whole body. He winced.

"Don't move, Trunks, I'm right here," The young guardian of Earth told him solemnly. "I am here, I will heal you." He did not feel the warmth at first, because his body was too confused to recognize it as a good feeling instead of pain. But gradually, the warm feeling took over and replaced the pain. He felt his energy returning.

Eventually, he was able to breathe again. Trunks opened his eyes and smiled weakly at the worried faces above him. "Dende, that's a nifty trick you have. Let's get you out of here before they find out what you've done."

The three young warriors nodded at each other and prepared to part ways. Trunks suppressed his kilevel and searched around for Goten. Once they could team up again, they'd have another chance. Oddly enough, he felt a lot better now that he had seen Marron. "Get out of here quickly!" he called after the retreating figures of his saviours.

They did not see the silver face watching them.

*

Vegeta wiped the blood away from the corner of his mouth. He was getting very, very ticked off. "Why won't you just die?" he snarled at his assailant.

Naturally, the Silver Terror did not respond.

Seething with frustration, Vegeta pushed himself back into the air for another round.

Kakarot? What the hell are you doing?

Goku's mind was raw with grief and anger. I am here, he finally answered. His mental voice sounded eerily devoid of emotion. Keep it up, Vegeta, I'll attack his mind. Trunks and Bra managed to destroy one of them this way, we'll take care of the other.

Vegeta smirked, and powered up another Big Bang Attack. That's more like it.

The Silver Terror was too late to dodge or deflect the kiblast, so instead it responded with a kiblast of its own. The energy was raw and silvery. When the two blasts connected, Vegeta felt the shock reverberating through his whole body. He steeled himself, and prepared to push.

You're doing great, Vegeta. Keep pushing. I'll take care of the mental part, Goku's silent voice told him. Glimpses of Goku's mind were shown throughout the struggle while his one-time-rival unleashed a mental attack that would have made Piccolo proud: grief and unyielding anger strengthened both of their power. They had agreed to fight their own battle so Piccolo and Bra could support Gohan and Future Trunks - and they kept fighting their own battle. They had to. There was no time to check upon their children, even though Goku clearly worried about Goten and Trunks. Vegeta bit on his tongue and tried not to let this distract him. This was more important, this is what it was all about.

They could sort out the rest later.

"Die!" he snarled at his opponent, pouring his very essence into the Big Bang.

*

He was already engaged into the battle when Bra joined him again. Trunks? Are you alright? She asked tentatively. I'm sorry for leaving you.

Trunks did not answer; he was too busy dodging and deflecting the blows from the Silver Terror. No wonder Gohan had such a hard time with this one earlier. Trunks found himself heavily on the defense for the first time today.

Piccolo is okay again. He's going to back up Goten and Young Trunks, although he's not sure whether he can connect with a fused mind, They were in trouble a bit earlier, but Dende has healed them, so they should be fine, she told him quickly. I'm going to help you.
Whatever you do, do it quickly, he snapped back at her. His mind was almost snapping under the heavy concentration and the burden of the fight. Like the last time he had fought the Terror in the other timeline, he was truly struggling to save his own life here.

I will. Bra's focus shifted off his mind. He felt her slide away to another target, and then felt her attacking the mind of the Terror.

He just hoped it would make any difference, because he had no idea how long he was going to last this way and he was out of sensu beans.

Whatever they did, they indeed had to do it quickly.

*

Close to her, Marron saw Goten burst into power to join his childhood friend in battle once more. Answering the call, Trunks powered up as well. They were flaming in the midday sky, bright and magnificent. She had seen them this way a million times before, but never so ferocious and so determined. It seemed as if the playfulness, that had always seemed to define them, had drained out of them and all that was left was a harsh mercilessness.

"Come, Marron," Dende urged, pulling her sleeve.

Marron nodded, when a silver flash from the corner of her eye surprised her. "What was that?" She held her hand above her eyes to shield herself from the bright sunlight. Her eyes scanned the azure blue sky for a moment. A strange feeling of deja-vu overcame her. Didn't someone tell her something about a similar situation?

There. Where Goten and Trunks were going. There was one of the Silver Terror.

Why was it so close by?

…and why was it watching her?

"Shit!" she squealed.

In the end, she had only one second. And to her credit, she used it wisely.

Marron planted her hands in Dende's side, and gave him a fierce shove.

The young Guardian of Earth lost his balance and tumbled down the hill, away from the line of fire. Marron took the blast alone.

The moment the ki pierced her, she recognized the familiarity of the situation.

This was how Future Trunks told her she had fallen in the other timeline. Here she went down again… but at least she had saved the Dragonballs this time.

And then the world went black.

But in this heart of darkness

Our hope lies lost and torn;

All flame like love is fleeting

When there's no hope anymore

~ Apocalyptica - `Hope'

Torn

The spring sun was shining down on them, slightly clouded by the large amount of dust in the sky. Around them, explosions were tattering the landscape. For the past half hour, the earth had been rumbling in protest against the fury that was unleashed upon it. The whole geography was changing, and the kilevels that were utilized were upsetting the ecosystem of the planet. But still the battle raged on.

In her arms, Bulma felt her daughter suddenly freeze. Next to her, Piccolo, who had joined them, looked up sharply.

"Marron!" Bra choked.

"Get out of his head, Bra!" commanded Piccolo, his eyes flashing. "Now! You'll drive him insane!"

"I…. I…."

"Bra!" Piccolo roared. "He must not know!"

"He already does," she said with a small voice, looking frightened. Fresh tears were filling her eyes and spilling over her already tear-streaked cheeks. "They all do. I wanted to warn her…and everyone heard me but she…"

Bulma sucked her breath in and pulled her daughter closer against her, absently stroking Bra's aqua-colored hair. Marron. Oh dear. Sweet Marron.

"I have to help Trunks," wept Bra. "I have to. He's all alone and scared and sad."

Tenderly, Bulma stroked the tears of her daughter's face. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

"I have to," the young girl muttered, and closed her eyes to concentrate again.

"Dende is fine," Piccolo informed Bulma gruffly. "Marron saved his life. He'll be with us shortly."

Bulma just closed her eyes and wished she had never come here. Or even better, that this day had never come. The armor was still in its capsule, hidden in the pocket of her jeans. She did not want to resort to let someone wear it: it was simply too dangerous. And the Z-Senshi were so strong, they should not need it. They had trained so hard… so damned hard, that *had* to be worth something. It had to be.

*

Gotenks had used to be a wildcard in battle. Because of the playful and cocky nature of the two demi-Saiya-jins, the fused being they represented was arrogant and unreliable. As the years had progressed, Goten and Trunks had grown both more responsible. Piccolo had counted on that; he did not want a repeat of the battle against Majin Buu this time. During their mental training he had tried to drill them as much as possible, leaving no room for smartass behavior from any of the boys. He had taken special care that they would know the severity of the situation by manipulated them into spending a lot of time around Future Trunks, for example.

And it seemed the strategy had worked. Gotenks seemed a lot more serious and responsible than he had been during the battle with Majin Buu. Of course it helped that Gotenks had known defeat before, by Buu's hands, and didn't think of himself as Dende's gift to humanity anymore. Gotenks fought hard and ferocious, and his only flaw now was his impatience and agitation. But that did not matter.

Piccolo let them beat on the Silver Terror's exterior, while he was exploring the interior. The mindbarrier was different than the other Terror he had fought, Piccolo noticed. Curiously, he tried to find a weak spot and succeeded quickly. The Terror was mightily distracted by a Kamikaze Ghost Attack, which made it almost laughably easy.

It almost seemed as if the Terror offered him an opening. For a heartbeat Piccolo hesitated, but Gotenks was making, despite new injuries and the beginnings of fatigue, good progress with pounding the Terror into a pulp… and the temptation was simply too sweet to resist. Piccolo wanted to know what made the Terror tick, and his grief over Gohan made him perhaps a little rash in his decision to dive in. He just wanted to hurt something. The gentler side of him, the part that used to be Kami, urged him to be careful, but Piccolo did not listen.

He dived right in.

The next moment, he found himself stuck. It was like being held in a headlock - tight and unyielding. He struggled a little, only to wriggle himself even further into the mental hold of the Terror. This was definitely not a good idea. Let me go, damn you, Piccolo snarled.

Around him, all he felt and managed to visualize was a black, bottomless pit of hatred.

Gotenks? He ventured carefully. The hold around his mind began to squeeze. It hurt.

Yes, Piccolo? The joined voices of Goten and Trunks answered eagerly. The mental voice was filled with an immense glee.

He's capturing me. I can't go anywhere - he's holding me hostage. Every thought, every probe his mind made, was a torture. Piccolo longed to sink into oblivion, but he couldn't. There were things to do and battles to fight, first. If only it wouldn't hurt so much.

The Terror is losing its power as if someone pulled the plug, Piccolo, Gotenks informed him. Is that because it's focusing on you?

Probably, Piccolo groaned. Keep hitting him, and he'll let go eventually, I hope.

But at the same time, the hold on his mind began to squeeze even more. A terrible, terrible pain seared through his mind, as it was being pulled inside out. He felt like a balloon that was being squeezed until the point of bursting. Visuals of his mind bursting came to his mind's eye unbidden, and he knew that this was what would happen.

It is using the pain to torture me. That damn Terror turned Gotenks' attack into my headlock. But if it is losing its power… that means that it is dying.

The terrible truth began to dawn upon him. The Terror was dragging him down with itself. It simply refused to die alone. Because Piccolo occupied its mind, it was helpless against the physical attacks. But the physical attacks strengthened the hold the Terror kept on Piccolo's mind at the same time, so it refused to let go. And the pain was getting unbearable. Once more he tried to struggle out, but to no avail.

Oh shit. The damned Terror is really going to go through with this.

What is it? Gotenks asked. Images of armor shattering, of sunlight glittering on shards of silver.

He did not even have to think about his choice. The Guardian inside of him loved Earth and its inhabitants too much not to sacrifice itself. And so he made his mental voice sound controlled and soothing. Nothing. Keep pounding.

But in the depths of his mind, Piccolo screamed in pain.

*

As focused as he fought, Future Trunks was always aware of the life force around him. Especially where it came to the ki of the people he loved. So when Marron's ki suddenly vanished, he knew instantly.

The fact that Bra broadcasted her mental scream to any telepathic mind that would happen to be listening, was of course a dead give away as well.

So what happened to Trunks when he felt Marron die? There was one flash of insight:

Then:

Marron. Her hair in a ponytail, wearing a grey furry coat. She is looking up at him and the Terror is looking down on her. He wants to scream her name, to warn her, but it happens all too fast, before his eyes. Before he can warn her, the beam leaves the silver-clad hand and spirals down to meet its target.

And Marron's chest explodes in a red mist as she is thrown to the ground…

Now:

Marron. Her hair in a ponytail, wearing a darkgrey t-shirt. She is looking up at Young Trunks and Goten who are flying up to meet their opponent and the Terror is looking down on her.

This time, she sees it coming. She has time to react; so she pushes Dende out of the line of fire, saving the Dragonballs and a possible resurrection for Gohan. And herself too, because her chest explodes in that same red mist as she sags through her knees….

The similarity was mind-shattering. Trunks screamed in anguish and let loose a Burning Hell attack greater than he ever had in his life. He was alone for a moment, before Bra joined him.

Marron is dead, she said, her mental voice sounding very young and very sad.

I know, he told her, and his mind cried with her.

*

A chain is as strong as its weakest link, Piccolo had told him during one of their numerous training sessions. So a wall around the mind is as strong as the one weak spot you can manage to find. And there always is one.

This particular wall seemed impenetrable, but Goku was not about to give up yet. He was too distraught to stop - he had to channel all that destructive energy somehow. The last time he had felt like this was when he watched Freeza kill Krillin, and that particular emotion had caused him to transform into Super Saiya-jin. Goku was a lot older now, and rather sure he was near the limit of his almost bottomless well of power. So he was channeling his mind frantically - searching, scanning for weak spots. He had to find something deep down there. He visualized the mindbarrier as a silver wall with a smooth surface. Like a mirror. All he had to do was bang against it and shatter it. It would be so nice if he would see it shatter into a million shards. He would take the shards and cut up that inhuman mind into myriad pieces. He owed it to Gohan and Marron. And Goten, who was up and fighting again - but Goten had been hurt, too. And no one hurt his loved ones like that and got away with it.

You are beginning to sound like a true Saiya-jin in your old day, Kakarot, Vegeta thought at him in a stolen moment. His thoughts sounded amused.

Goku was about to answer him, when his mind suddenly seemed to feel weak spot. As if he could reach through and break things on the inside of the mirror. If he could just…

He pushed, he pulled, he fueled his mind with the love for his family, and suddenly he broke through and found himself in a desolate wasteland of thoughts. He touched around for a moment, while his physical body was aware of cries of frustration and pain emanating from the Terror. The mind had been human once, but it had been totally twisted by an intense hatred that seemed to be present everywhere.

Information and knowledge crashed over Goku's mind. Two races at war, the battle never won, hate, death and competition tainting generation after generation. At last, a device that would end it all. This being had been selected as Angel of Death once - to finally defeat the enemy. But the armor had taken over - the metal was design to reflect ki and mental assaults kept reflecting the angel's own hate back at him time and time again, until he had become a caricature and a nightmare of himself, and had been killing, killing, killing… everyone on Aranza had died by the hands of the Angels, including his loved ones. And after Aranza, they had moved on to other planets. The Angel of Death, as it thought of itself, hated its companions with a vengeance, but was unable kill them - they were too strong, and an almost misplaced feeling of self-preservation was all that kept it going, oddly parallel with the self-hate.

And Goku understood.

This creature was beyond salvation. All Goku could offer him was a quick death, to put him out of its misery.

And in turn, the Silver Terror understood. It could not save itself anymore, it was outnumbered and it had only one chance. It planned to counterattack.

When two minds are truly linked, there is an understanding that goes beyond mental communication. Intentions, dreams and wishes of the person on the other side of the link are felt as clearly as your own. And this is how Goku was on time to prevent a disaster from happening.

Vegeta! he called, a mental warning to cease fire.

Two fingers to his forehead, concentration, Instant Transmission.

There it was. He only had to touch the Terror to teleport them all away to the Otherworld. It was unfortunate that at exactly that moment Vegeta had been physically connected to the Silver Terror, but it could not be helped.

Goku's last thought before the Silver Terror self-destructed was that at least the planet would not have been taken out - just the three of them. At least the others would live. And maybe Vegeta and he would survive, too?

*

The explosions occurred within a mere second of each other.

Trunks almost did not notice them because he was fighting with his whole heart again; fighting for his life and his sanity, leaving no room in his being for anything else.

It was the vanishing of ki that alarmed him, and Bra's response to it. He was getting used with her outbursts of emotion in his head now, and managed to shield himself mostly from it. He had to focus focus focus on the battle, he could not be distracted now, not while he was fighting, not while he was killing…

He did not ask, she told him. She vanished for a while, probably to try and spare her from the worst of her outburst.

Piccolo just fell. He's not responding. I can't feel his mind anymore. Goten and my brother are unconscious and bleeding, Dende is healing them. They already used all of their sensubeans earlier. They are very hurt, so it might take some time.

He did not answer, he knew there was more.

There was worse to come.

Of course there was - he was battling the Silver Terror, remember?

Everyone would just die all over again.

Naturally they were the last ones standing.

Wasn't this his fate, his destiny?

Then:

There is naked pain in Marrons eyes, an ill expression on her face. She is so desperately trying to be strong. "It's just you and me now, Trunks. Goten is dead. We… we're the only ones left."

And now:

Bra sobbed, a pathetic little sound. And… Dad and Goku are gone. The Terror with them, too. I don't know where they are, I can't reach them. I don't know whether they're dead or alive. Mum says they're missing in action. We're the only fighters left, Trunks.

Naturally they were the last ones standing.

Wasn't this his fate, his destiny?

How the hell was he supposed to fight Time and Destiny itself?

What the hell are you trying?

What happened to you?

Are you still denying

That this is the truth?

~ Apocalyptica - `Path'

Dance

First there was a red haze; the next moment there was a sound that was both so piercing and familiar that Goten snapped out of his half-consciousness with a shock. The sudden intake of air made him choke. Hands rolled him over on his side, allowing him to cough up clotted bits of black blood. The light was too still too blinding to look into, so he kept his eyes firmly shut while he concentrated on getting the blood out of his lungs.

"Careful," Dende's gentle voice advised him. "We have you in hiding, you are safe for now. However, you've been bleeding internally, and you took a nasty hit on the head that I don't dare prying into. Keep yourself still."

Too late, Goten thought ironically, when his back arched with the tearing coughs.

Behind him, the voice had stopped screaming. All that was left was a heartbreaking sobbing. Goten recognized that sound… he had not heard it for years, and it brought back dark memories. He rolled over on his other side. "Trunks?" he asked hoarsely, squinting against the sunshine. His head was aching like he had the mother of all migraines. Trunks did not respond. He was cooped up in his mother's arms. On every other day this scene would have embarrassed him to death, but not now. He cried as if someone had died.

Is he crying so hard over Gohan? he thought for a moment, but that did not make sense. Trunks liked Gohan, a lot even, but not so much that Gohan's death (Goten cringed at the stab of pain that came with this thought) would devastate him so utterly.

Bulma had her face buried in her son's lavender hair, wetting it with her own tears.

Someone else, then.

Bra was sitting next to her mother, watching Piccolo's still form without registering. Goten tried to feel if she was linked with Future Trunks, but his head hurt too much to make anything out. The glassy look on the young girl's face said enough, anyhow.

Piccolo seemed to be unconscious. That was the last thing he remembered: Piccolo telling him/them to continue pounding on the Terror. Goten remembered being Gotenks, filled with power more than he had ever felt before. And battling, while the Terror was weakened and they had finally killed it. But not before taking a severe blow to the head - the one that was still making him feel unfocused. It hurt like a bitch, to put it bluntly.

The Terror had died, Piccolo had fallen, and so had they, eventually.

So who else had died?

"Who?" he croaked at Bulma.

"Marron," she whispered, still embracing her son for all she was worth.

Goten buried his face in his hands and wished for unconsciousness.

*Their dance was horrible and beautiful to behold for anyone who might be watching. It would have to be someone who could follow the sheer speed that the two opponents were displaying, because their strikes were lightning quick, too quick for the untrained eye to follow. Kicks, punches, blows, blasts, they all followed each other in rapid succession. Concentration and focus was so present in the two opponents that one could almost taste it in the air. Concentration, focus, and pure, intense hatred.

Trunks and the Terror twirled around each other. Diving, dodging, reflecting, countering, spinning. Quick and flashing, like lighting or electricity. It was all instinctive, all thoughts blanked from their minds. Trunks knew only a few things: he really, really hated the Silver Terror for everything he had done, and he really wanted to hurt him, even if it would be the last thing he did. And that the bastard just wouldn't lie down and die. The Terror was simply too strong. His mind shields were impenetrable and his armor was the strongest he had encountered this far.

This must be their leader, Bra agreed.

I don't care, thought Trunks. As long as he dies.

~Hatred. Determination.~

The Terror had deliberately broadcasted those emotions to him. Trunks and Bra picked them up clearly enough to realize this. Trunks snorted. I'm glad we agree on this.

He somersaulted away and tried to power up for a Final Flash, but instead found himself on the defense as his legs were swung out from under him by a well-placed kick. The wind whistled in his ears as he blocked and kicked and punched and spun and kicked and danced around the Terror. He was tired and he knew the Terror was not, but he'd rather die than give up now. They had bitten deeply into one another, and they refused to let go.

Then:

The fight kept going and going as if they'd fight forever. He'd give that Terror the fight of its life. His fists were raw and bloody, but he did not care. There was more blood upon him, more than was probably healthy, but at this point Trunks did not care that much about health anymore.

Now:

The only difference was that Bra was here with him. She was half distracted because in her physical body she was trying to get Piccolo to wake up. It slowed down their progress, but Trunks did not really mind. The fight seemed to last forever, and Trunks enjoyed every blow that connected. Even though he was fighting in defense of his life and the ones that were still standing, it felt so good to pound away his anger and his frustration on someone that really deserved it…

Blood and health did indeed not matter anymore.

Just the dance.

*

Her son was draped around her, his body strangely boneless and clenching at the same time. Her strong arms surrounded her and Bulma buried her face in his hair, trying to console him. "I still haven't kissed her yet," he murmured against her shoulder. "She can't be dead. Not like this…"

"There's still the dragonballs," she said softly. "Please sweetie, calm down. I can tell that you're powering up, and we need to stay low profile here. We don't want to draw attention with the two of you hurt like this."

"I don't CARE!" Trunks pulled himself loose from her grasp abruptly and looked at her with startling blue eyes that somehow reminded her of Vegeta, or maybe the older Trunks from the other timeline. He looked tormented, as if he had a terrible anger that he was unable to channel. "I can't lose her. I can't lose you. Any of you. Just look at Bra, mom."

Bulma glanced at her entranced daughter and felt her heart ache. "We should do something," she whispered. "We need to do something. I don't think Future Trunks can pull it off."

"We can fight," Goten said, although the unfocused look in his eyes told everyone differently. "We're not dead yet. There has to be something…"

Something.

Bulma felt her hands clench - fingernails drove deeply into the palms of her hands. (The armor? What the hell are you thinking? You can't do this, this is too dangerous, we can't sacrifice any of them like this - it's insane and horrible. You can't you can't you can't - it's too risky - and where is Vegeta? Where is Goku? When did this battle turn so sour? I don't want to make this decision-) She had to make that decision. But who and when? And how? (No, damn you! No one can do this! They'll be lost forever to a fate worse than death! You can't do this, woman.) But who else could? They were running out of options fast. She needed to make a decision. She was the only one who could do it.

She glanced at Piccolo for a moment - still unconsciousness and feeling oddly empty.

Bra, (little one) entranced, with trails of tears still on her young face.

Goten (like a son), grieving over his brother's death, crusted blood in his spiky hair.

Her son (beautiful) , nearly mad with grief, guilt, anger and pain. Also suffering from head injury that Dende did not dare to heal.

Dende, Guardian of Earth, but looking so very young and insecure in this moment, because he clearly knew what she was thinking.

Vegeta (lover) and Goku (friend), missing in action. Dead?

Future Trunks ("I think I want a cigarette, too"), fighting to the death with a horror from outer space.

Life for the planet, death for you.

Bulma looked at the palms of her hands and noticed that they were bleeding. Little half-moons of blood were welling up where she had pierced her own skin. She sighed, long and shuddering. "I can't do this," she whispered.

*

How do you stay sane when bloodlust and hate are thundering through your mind and adrenaline is filling your veins? How do you stay sane when you've lost the person you love the most for the second time? Thoughts and coherency are suddenly wiped out, and all that remains is an urge to kill, to destroy and to hurt. A primal need to drink blood, to hurt, to emerge victorious. Vegeta had told him once that the Saiya-jin rage is fearsome and that it takes over every fiber of their being - that is why the Saiya-jin children were so terrible during their first transformation to oozaru. The bloodlust simply clouded every other thought in their mind - leaving only the urge to kill behind.

Future Trunks had reached that particular state of mind right now. All he wanted was to hurt, break, maim and kill - and it fueled his ki to levels it had never been before.

Bra, in his mind, had distanced herself from her - she was afraid of him, and tried to concentrate on the mental block alone. It was different now. They still pursued the same goal, but not as one person anymore. Their rage and anguish formed a barrier. Bra was relentless and brutal in her mental attacks - fueled by a passion and intensity that was far beyond her years. She was as Saiya-jin and as human as he was, and her pain was the same. Despair and fear had vanished from their minds, completely overshadowed by rage, determination and the intensity of the fight.

They were both beyond any reasoning, beyond anything but bloodlust. They had bitten deeply into their opponent, and they would fight to the death.

*

As for their opponent, who could guess what went on behind that silver mask?

It was a creature that did not even think anymore. All of its remaining intelligence was used for battle strategy and evil cunning. Mere thoughts had all been clouded in a bloodlust much like the lavender haired young man before it. The creature, that had once been a living person and now referred to itself as an Angel of Death, was now less than human - and in some way it was more. It was a true vengeful angel with unbelievable power, and it brought vengeance upon anything it encountered.

*

Thus so they danced, and thus the Earth shuddered under the immensity of the power that was displayed and inflicted on it. Every being on the planet could feel the earth below their feet tremble. Many people had sought refuge in open spaces, afraid that the end of the world was upon them.

Hercule Satan had taken it upon himself to try and reassure the masses by appearing on TV and boasting that whatever it was, he could handle it. But in the meantime, he feared for the life of his family and everything he held dear.

Nevertheless, he had to do his duty. And so he planted his hands in his side and laughed heartily as he challenged whatever was attacking the planet. Nothing responded for now, and the earth continued to rumble. The sky lit up in the oddest of colors; the colors of ki energy that were filtered through clouds of dust. Hercule Satan had seen this before… long years ago when he had been with Vegeta and Goku during the battle with Majin Buu. Satan remembered that day, and tried to fight down his fear.

The Earth would be victorious. It always had, and would be, this time.

*

And on that sunlit hill, not far from the battlefield, Bulma Briefs unclenched her hands to wipe away her tears. Smears of blood from her palms remained on her face, but she did not even notice. Her mouth tightened in determination. She would hate herself forever if this would not work.

"I think I found a way to beat the Terror," she announced to the others. "But it's going to take everything we have… and it will cost us everything if we fail."

"Tell us," the Guardian of Earth urged.

Bulma explained her plan.

~end of part 3~