Disclaimer: My mind is in no state to even attempt to come up with a semi-witty disclaimer. You all know that I don't own DBZ.

The Burden of Hope

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Separated Demi-Saiyans; A Deadly Game

Don't look back, Trunks thought fearfully. Just don't look back.

Despite the order that he'd given himself, he looked over his shoulder and saw the bad boy-robot flying right behind him; more terrified than before, he whipped his attention forward again. What was he supposed to do all by himself? He wasn't a big boy like Gohan-san, so how was he supposed to do anything?

Trunks swallowed hard, and had to remind himself to breathe; he wobbled a bit in the air. He wished that he'd listened to Gohan-san earlier and taken a rest, because he was feeling really tired now, and didn't think he'd be able to fly for too much longer. And if he couldn't fly much longer… No. He wasn't going to think about that---he was scared more than enough as it was.

"You look a little unsteady up here, brat," called the bad boy-robot. "Need some help?"

The words chilled Trunks, and he exerted his ki more that he'd previously been able to manage, increasing the speed of his flight. He needed to get away. He needed to get away fast. And he needed to hide, too, and this time, he would stay in his hiding place until it was all over. His eyes scanned the ground below him, searching for some tiny place where he could curl up and not be seen; down on the streets, mobs of people ran this way and that, some screaming, and others pointing at the sky. There didn't seem to be anywhere to go---not that he could see from this height, anyway. He needed to go lower.

Before he could angle his flight downward, he bumped into something hard; the sudden stop distracted Trunks so much that he forgot to control his ki for a few seconds and fell a bit before catching himself. Shaking his head, he wondered what he had flown into; he lifted his gaze… and immediately wished that he had not.

"Whoops. Looks like you ought to watch where you're going." The bad boy-robot floated in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, and smiling in amusement. "Little boys shouldn't be in the sky, anyway."

Trunks simply floated in place for a long moment, trying to figure out what he should do. His breath didn't come at a regular pace, and when it did come, it was extremely shallow; sweat poured from his forehead, running into his wide eyes and plastering a few strands of hair to his face.

Just get away and hide! his mind screamed. Hide and then Gohan-san will come and find you when it's all over and you can go home and see Mama.

He backed off a little, and then dove, almost letting himself fall. People scattered as Trunks landed, his feet barely touching the ground before he broke into a run. He didn't get very far before he heard an explosion behind him and its shockwave launched him into the air. Yelping in surprise, he reached for his ki to keep from hitting the ground, but didn't have the time; he tumbled along the street until his back hit something hard and he drew in a sharp breath.

A sea of legs rushed past him in a blur as he began to push himself to his feet. Just before he lifted his head, he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him up, his legs dangling in the air; he thought briefly that it was awfully nice of someone to help him before he looked up and, for the second time in a very short while, wished that he had not.

"Well, there you are," the bad boy-robot chuckled softly. "Where did you think you were going? It's not very considerate of you to try and run off like that; how am I supposed to have any fun without a playmate?"

Trunks swallowed hard and uselessly tried to wriggle free; the grip was far too tight. Panic tool control of his lungs, causing them to expel air in shallow gasps. He had to get away somehow.

"Now, what kind of game should we play?"

The sky flashed gold for an instant, so brightly that even those who had their eyes on the ground were nearly blinded; a shockwave severed the top floors of skyscrapers from their companions. High above the city, a battle raged, invisible to the eyes of any would-be spectators. Of course, there were no spectators---when the androids attacked, the wisest moves were to run and hide, not stand and gawk; in fact, had any person known that someone was fighting one of the androids, that person would have questioned what was wrong with the fighter's brain.

Gohan panted heavily, recovering from the last exchange; he blinked irritably as a thin stream of blood trickled from his forehead and into his eye. Sweat plastered a lock of golden hair to his forehead. Android Eighteen floated a few feet from him, a cold smirk touching her lips, daring him to attack her again.

Wiping the blood out of his eye, he gritted his teeth. As he had expected, he was getting nowhere fast in this battle, and was in great need of finding a way to get out of it alive. Such a thing was only going to lead him to another fight, though; the second he managed to get out of this situation---assuming, of course, that he would---he was going to go after Android Seventeen. And if that battery-powered demon had done anything to Trunks, Gohan didn't care how powerful he was; he'd find a way to kill him.

He spun out of the way of Eighteen's fist as she charged at him, and whirled about to deliver a kick to her back, following up with a ki blast that propelled her toward the ground. As she was in the process of catching herself, he let loose another, but she righted herself in time to see it and tilted her head to one side; the blast whizzed past harmlessly, burning off a few strands of her blonde hair.

Eighteen gasped angrily, putting a hand to her hair where it had been burned off. "You little brat! How dare you do that to my hair!" she growled, her grey eyes narrowing.

Gohan barely managed to escape the blast of pseudo-ki that blazed up at him like a shooting star in reverse; only a blurring dodge allowed him to keep his head on his shoulders. As it was, he still felt its intense heat on his cheek.

The evasion of that attack gave him little respite, however; as had happened several times before, he was caught off guard by a vicious impact to his stomach. He cried out as bone crunched sickeningly and he felt something give way inside of him; blood rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. As he coughed it out, he felt a hand grip the front of his gi and jerk him forward. Slowly, he half-opened his eyes, finding his face mere inches away from that of Android Eighteen.

"I'm really going to make you pay for that, kid," she threatened, her voice a lethal whisper. "You just keep making things worse for yourself. You ought to be glad that your little friend isn't here to see this. Just imagine what the look on his face would be." Her lips curved upward in a cruel smile. "Oh, well. The brat's probably dead by now, anyway."

In a haze of pain, Gohan had heard her first words only marginally, but the final ones had been all too clear. Probably dead by now… At the thought of that, his ki surged hotly in his blood, bringing it to a boil. He was in no state of mind to concentrate on anything but the emotions that those words sent roiling through his heart: fear, helplessness…

Fury.

He scarcely realized what he was doing as he brought the heels of his hands together, gathering as much ki as possible; lightning crackled around Gohan's palms before he fired.

By all rights, the blast should not have been able to be as large as it was, for it was taller than he; it lit the sky like a dozen suns, and hit the unprepared Android Eighteen point-blank. Her cry oddly complemented the flashing white expanse that was the sky, and her hold on Gohan broke as she was driven backward.

Gohan didn't wait for the sky to stop flickering before he attacked again, knowing, through enraged instinct rather than through deprived sight, exactly where his opponent was. He snarled viciously, though each blow connected; for some strange reason, this only made him angrier. Pulling back a little, he shot another searing ki blast that launched the android to the ground. A cloud of dust rose from the impact.

The massive aura that had surrounded him like the flame of an exploding star weakened nearly to the point of non-existence. Panting in exhaustion, Gohan watched the ground intently as the dust cloud began to clear.

Android Seventeen chuckled as the lavender-haired brat vainly tried to pull his tiny wrist out of his grasp; the creature was in absolute panic, whimpers escaping his throat, short legs kicking in the air. It was even more amusing to watch than Seventeen had thought it would be; maybe he should start playing around with kids more often, if they could be this much fun.

"Not going to happen, kid," Seventeen mocked smoothly. The brat stopped struggling, turning terrified blue eyes on him. "Oh, don't stop on my account; you're spoiling my fun. Come on, keep trying."

The brat didn't move, only breathed shallowly and blinked. Probably waiting and hoping that Gohan would come along and save his little hide. Children were such foolish creatures.

Seventeen grinned wickedly. "He's not coming this time, brat. My sister has some business with him, and I don't think she's happy. Bad things happen to people when she's not happy---death, usually."

Just as he'd expected, the words caused the brat to choke in horror, eyes filling with tears. Seventeen chuckled again, quite enjoying the reaction that he had gotten. Then, after a long moment, something happened that he had not expected, even as an outside possibility.

The brat hit him.

A ridiculously tiny fist, attached to an arm that was barely long enough to reach him, had struck him between the eyes; it didn't hurt, obviously---in fact, he hadn't even felt it---but the action surprised Seventeen so much that he loosened his grip on the brat, who then managed to wrench himself free. Seventeen watched in shock as he dropped to the ground, cradling his possibly broken hand, and then stood and launched himself into the air, heading off in a random direction.

Well, that was interesting, Seventeen thought, for the moment only following the brat with his eyes. Who'd have thought the little runt had it in him? Must've gotten it from hanging out with Gohan.

Smoothly, he lifted himself into the sky, following the path that the brat had taken; just for fun, he rained down a few pseudo-ki blasts on the fleeing citizens, and blew up a few buildings for target practice. No sense in letting the amusement of the chase get stale by not doing anything else. The brat flew a short distance in front of him, occasionally glancing backward, obviously checking to see if he were still safe.

Smiling, Seventeen rose higher, and sped forward until he was soaring directly above him; the brat visibly sagged in relief when he next checked his rear and found no one there, and even slowed his flight. Once again, Seventeen marvelled at the foolishness of children; they were even worse than the rest of humankind.

He angled himself slightly, descending until he was level with the brat. "Hello, again," he greeted cheerfully, and was rewarded with a terrified gasp. "Nice up here, isn't it? You've got a perfect view of the whole city."

The brat shot off in a new direction in a vain hope to escape; effortlessly, Seventeen followed every climb, every dive, every right-angled turn, keeping perfectly in time. In a way, the pursuit reminded him of the aerial equivalent of cat and mouse, whatever that might be. He frowned in irritation. These human idioms were simply too bizarre to figure out; he didn't know why he bothered thinking about them. Must be a defect in his programming.

The chase continued in this manner for several minutes, the brat's flight becoming increasingly unsteady; thus Seventeen was not very surprised to find that he eventually fell, barely catching himself in time to avoid hitting the ground.

Seventeen sighed, and lowered himself to the street; the brat's amusement factor was waning, and it was probably best to end this particular little game. Still, it had been fun. Most people weren't half as delightful to torment as this kid had been.

"Well, brat, it looks like this is it," he drawled as the brat's frightened gaze met his. He raised his hand level with the brat's face---the stupid kid was still floating for some reason---gathering a small amount of pseudo-ki into his palm. No need to overdo things. Letting it linger on his hand, he watched sweat pour down the brat's face, and the wide blue eyes fill with the terror of death.

Before he could fire, the brat turned and shot away. Seventeen scowled at this; did he actually think that such an idiotic action would do any good? Honestly, he and Eighteen were doing the world a favour, destroying such inferior creatures. Something with so little common sense deserved to die.

Not bothering to waste any more time, Seventeen let fly the pseudo-ki blast; to his great annoyance, he noticed that the brat, probably without realizing it, had dropped lightly to the ground just as the blast had been launched. As a result, a small building exploded instead of the intended target. Drawing his brows together, he watched as the lucky little runt rounded a corner; he fired again, taking aim at the structure behind which the brat had disappeared.

A satisfying plume of smoke and dust exploded into the air; as it slowly dissipated, it revealed the pile of rubble to which the once-great---by silly human standards, anyway---building which had stood in its place. Only a few feet of the structure, from the ground up, had survived.

Seventeen lifted himself into the sky, checking the surrounding area for any sign that the runt had gotten lucky again. Here and there, a few ragged humans dashed along the streets; these, he idly picked off with thin lances of pseudo-ki, but none of these people resembled the brat. There was no indication that he had managed to escape; it was evident that he'd been buried under the debris.

"Finally," Seventeen breathed irritably. "That little twerp was really getting on my nerves." He turned to face the direction in which he'd last seen his sister. "Speaking of which, I wonder if Eighteen's finished playing with Gohan yet. She'd better not be; I need a taste of some real action."

Without a backward glance, he leisurely flew off in search of his sister so that she couldn't hog all of the true entertainment.

His mind slowly returning to coherency, Gohan tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest as he stared down at the clearing dust cloud of Android Eighteen's impact. Now that his fury had dissipated, he was conscious of the weak feeling that swept through his body; it was the same feeling that he always got after one of his trademark ki-flares. He'd used up a great deal of power, and he didn't have very much left; even staying aloft was difficult, where normally flying was effortless for him.

It didn't help that he could see through the cloud now, well enough to determine that Android Eighteen was climbing to her feet. By the time the area was clear, she had risen to her full height, more dirtied than wounded, and stared back at him with a hint of amused disappointment.

I barely even scratched her! Gohan thought angrily. I used up all that power, and it didn't do any good!

Now that it was too late, he realized his mistake. He'd been so consumed with rage that he'd let loose with all of his strength, uncaring of the consequences to himself. Eighteen, though, was unharmed, and he'd used up so much ki that he may not be able to fight any longer. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't need her to finish him off; he was managing that task quite well on his own. In short, he'd been a complete fool… and he had a sinking feeling that he was going to pay for it.

"Was that the best you could do?" Android Eighteen called. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Pitiful. You should be honoured that I'm bothering with a weakling like you. It's not like I couldn't find something more interesting to do with my time, but I owed you this, and I don't like to be indebted to anyone."

Gohan saw the blast long before it reached him, and forced his body to move, but exhaustion had battered his normally quick reflexes into hazy submission; while he managed to avoid being hit full-on, the pseudo-ki wave tore into his side. He tried, but was unable to suppress a scream at the burning agony. After a brief struggle to stay aloft, he felt his ki slip from his grasp, and he dropped to the ground.

He was barely conscious of the sensation of his body hitting concrete; all of his concentration was locked on the combination of the flaming pain in his side, and the stabbing pains in his chest. Dimly, he felt his power leave him, and this seemed to magnify the severity of the wounds he'd suffered; without the defensive boost of the Super Saiyajin body, he was subjected to the true effects of his injuries.

With great effort, Gohan pried his eyes half-open as he heard soft footsteps approaching him. The steps halted beside his head, and Android Eighteen's cold face swam in his vision. Instinct screamed at him to move, to get up and defend himself before she had a chance to attack him again, but this instinct was too weak to motivate his battered form, and he merely lay still, waiting.

"This is just sad," her voice floated lazily into his ears. "You could've tried a little harder, you know. I was actually having fun for a while, and you've gone and ruined it." She sighed heavily. "Oh, well. If this is all I get, I guess I'll have to take it. Tell you what, kid---I'll make sure you go out with a bang."

At first, Gohan thought that he was slowly drifting downward---though he knew that he was lying on the ground and therefore couldn't possibly be doing any such thing---but then realized that Android Eighteen was rising into the sky. It took him a moment to determine exactly what was about to happen, but when he did, he found that it didn't really bother him very much.

It won't be so bad, he thought drowsily as the air above him seemed to flicker gold. It probably won't even hurt that much. And I'll get to see them again. Tousan… Piccolo-san… Trunks…

Trunks.

An icy sensation shot through Gohan's veins, bringing him to full awareness. He couldn't just lie here and let this happen. Not when that possibility, slim as it may be, still existed.

Trunks! He could still be alive!

And the sky began to rain fire.