Disclaimer: Dragon Ball belongs to Akira Toriyama

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Timeline: The main story takes place somewhere around the events of Dragonball Super.

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Prologue

Bulma pulled herself up, feeling pain and shame spread through her beaten body like a disease. Pale light coming from the lamps on the compound seeped through the barred window inside her cell, illuminating the concrete room. It shed its faint glow on her scarred skin with fresh bruises marring it. Her long, blue hair was tangled and hung in lumps covering her face like a veil. She felt like weeping, but the tears refused to flow out of her eyes for years now. So much sorrow and torture must have taken a greater toll on her than she thought.

She stirred, struggling to sit on a thin, stained mattress that occupied the central position in the room. Bulma grabbed what was left of her clothing and tried to cover her naked chest with it. She raised her chin and peeked from behind a curtain of her messy hair at her tormentor.

He stood by the window with his back proudly straightened, looking out the window. Like Bulma, he was nude, but he didn't seem bothered by it. She watched his muscled back as the sensation of dread stirred inside of her heart. When she was young and foolish, Bulma would find his battle hardened, chiseled body attractive, but now it just scared her to death. Every curve, every muscle reminded her that the monster before her eyes was a fighting machine.

The man turned away from the mirror and pulled his pants on. "Your tits are sagging," he commented sourly, not even gracing Bulma with a single glance.

Bulma bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling uncontrollably. She clenched her palm into a fist. "You've promised you'll let me see my son."

"You mean my training meat sack?" The monster looked at her over his shoulder, a mocking smirk playing on his disgusting lips. "I'll allow you to see the bastard. Know my kindness, whore."

She flinched upon the insult, but didn't retort. Instead, she bowed lowly, touching her forehead to the cold, concrete floor of her cell. "Thank you!"

Hastily, Bulma put her torn dress over her head scrambled off the floor. Her knees wobbled so much that she had to lean on the wall for support. A pained whimper escaped her throat, but she stifled it, not wanting to annoy the monster. Like a puppy, she trailed after him as he let her out of her prison and lead her down the hall. With every step she took, her body contracted from ache. The inside of her thighs pulsated with pain, bruised so much that the flesh was green.

Bulma bit the inside of her cheek and focused on her surroundings instead. However, that hurt way worse than her manhandled body. She staggered down a corridor where she would run about as a child. This place used to be her home and now. . . Now, it was nothing more than a prison, very literally so.

From behind the rows of closed doors, she heard muffled noises and voices. Loud crashing sounds were coming from her right; Bulma's mother was having another fit of rage. She was in this state, balancing on the edge of insanity, ever since her husband got murdered. The unpleasant whizz of the electricity accompanied by the stench of burnt hair was Yamcha, pounding against the force field. Bulma heard sorrowful female voice, singing in a hoarse voice. That's how Chichi mourned the loss of her boys, chanting lullabies every day, in the every waking hour. With her body trapped in this nightmarish world, she retreated to safe haven of her own mind.

Bulma didn't have that luxury. She had a reason to live, to survive despite what was happening to her. Bulma held her breath when the monster opened the door at the end of the corridor, the entrance to what used to be Briefs family vault.

The hinges creaked open and the stench of stale air hit her nostrils, making her feel nauseous. It stank of sweat and blood. The light coming from the corridor invaded the vault, creeping into the every corner of the reinforced room, revealing its dreadful purpose.

Inside, a young man sat with his back propped against the steel wall. His long, purple hair was greasy and dirty, with clumps of his own, dried blood in the strands. His limbs and neck were chained to the wall, but these safety measures weren't necessary. He was in no shape to walk out of the vault on his own legs even if the door was wide open. Blood was pooling around his body, his limbs were crushed and broken. If not for the strained, wheezing breathing sounds, Bulma would have thought he were dead.

"Trunks!" she exclaimed desperately. Momentarily, she forgot about her own pain and dashed out to her son's side. She fell to her knees and leaned over her boy, staring at his gruesome injuries in horror. "What has he done to you?"

Trunks grunted. Slowly, he raised his head, looking up at Bulma in confusion. He was so pale. . . A violent fit of cough shook his broken body, and a streamlet of blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Weakly, he whispered, "Mom. Is that really you?"

"Yes, my child, I'm here." Bulma squeezed her son's palm gently. With her free hand, she delicately brushed Trunks' purple hair off his forehead and smiled at him reassuringly. "Everything will be alright, just hang in there. This nightmare will end eventually."

Right outside Trunks' cell, the monster was tapping with his foot. The corners of his lips turned downward at the display of motherly affection. "Time's up!" he yelled in his gruff voice. "Back to work, whore," he said to Bulma.

Suddenly, Trunks got more lively. "Don't call my mother that, you monster!" Even though he barely breathed, he started getting up.

"Trunks!" Bulma put her hand on her son's shoulder and pressed him down, forcing him to remain seated on the floor. She looked at him and silently shook her head.

The monster chuckled. "Oh? You still have some life in you, boy? I'll have to correct that later." He clenched his hand into a fist, his knuckles crunching.

Bulma swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling dryness in her mouth. "Please, don't hurt my son anymore, I beg you," she whined.

The scowl on the monster's face deepened, turning into a grimace of unadulterated contempt. "Scrape your sorry self off the floor, whore. Get your ass back to work. If you don't finish before dawn, I'll start tearing limbs off your precious bastard."

"The machine will be done!" Bulma exclaimed quickly, fearing for her son's life. She gazed at her beaten boy and it was as though her heart was being torn to shreds. She felt his fingers close around her hand, refusing to let her go. Trunks, please endure a while longer, Bulma thought and stood up. Her palm slid out of her son's grasp and she left him alone again, at the mercy of the monster.

Like in a daze, Bulma dragged herself to the place where she slaved away her days, her laboratory. The large hangar wasn't guarded at all and she could move about freely, but she knew what would happen if she ever dared to set her foot outside the lab. The monster had made that clear; he would wipe out her friends and murder Trunks.

Bulma gritted her teeth and walked up to the center of the hangar, where her greatest creation rested. A purple capsule resting on a tripod, capable of fitting one passenger. She had based its design and the propulsion on the saiyan pods, with numerous improvements and modifications. A fully operational machine would be able to travel through a galaxy in a heartbeat, faster than any spaceship existing in the universe.

She fastened the last screw with her wrench and wiped the sweat off her forehead. Smiling slightly, she took a few steps back and admired her invention. "It's ready," she said to the monster, who today, exceptionally, was watching her work.

He grunted and strolled up to the machine. Tracing his hand over the hull, he glanced at Bulma over his shoulder. "So, will it take me to other universes?"

Bulma nodded. "Like I said, the dimension warp device will open a wormhole leading straight to the next universe, folding space and time. The vehicle will travel through this tunnel and land within minutes."

The monster grinned. "Splendid. This barren universe became so boring ever since I squeezed the life out of that cat and the blue moron. I'm itching for a challenge." He flexed his muscles, his howling, vile laughter echoing across the hangar.

He looks hyped, Bulma noticed. I haven't seen him this excited in years. She smiled slightly and said, "Surely, you'll find a worthy opponent in one of the universes. Please, the machine is all yours." Bulma waved at the purple vehicle and took several steps back, retreating toward the exit out of the lab.

The monster stopped laughing and turned around, looking at her directly. Bulma froze, struggling to relax her tense muscles. She caught herself on holding the air in, so she exhaled slowly.

"I wonder. . ." the monster muttered. He furrowed his brows and glanced at the machine suspiciously. "I wonder if it won't explode the moment I land in another universe, stranding me there forever."

Bulma flinched, feeling adrenaline pumping into her blood. "I wouldn't dare. . ."

"Really?" He interrupted her. "To me, it sounds exactly like something you'd do, deceiving me and placing an intentional design flaw in the machine. After all, you'd do everything to save your precious bastard and what's left of your friends."

"I swear the machine is fully operational and safe," Bulma promised, hoping he wouldn't catch the tiny moment of hesitation in her voice.

"We'll see about that." The monster walked past her and headed for the exit out of the lab.

Bulma knitted her eyebrows together, confused by his actions. She traced him with her eyes. He's not boarding the machine right away? But he was so impatient for me to finish it! Bulma wriggled her fingers nervously, waiting for the monster to return. Her hands got clammy from the cold sweat, she could hear her heartbeat pounding as though the blood pressure was about to burst her veins from the inside. The spacious hangar was silent, only with her labored breathing audible.

Then, the door to the laboratory swung open violently, flying off the hinges. It flew past Bulma, the draft ruffling her blue hair, and slammed into the reinforced wall of the laboratory. The monster strolled in, cocky as always. With one hand, he hauled a beaten youth, treating him like a piece of luggage.

"Trunks!" Bulma cried out, reaching out with her hands to her son. Helplessly, she watched the monster leap into the air and unceremoniously toss her boy into the cockpit of the machine. "What are you planning to do with him?"

The monster grinned, showing his teeth. "I'm taking him along for the ride, of course. If the machine is just as safe as you claim, it won't be any problem." He turned his back on Bulma and was about to board the machine.

Bulma clenched her teeth so forcefully that her jaw muscles started to hurt. She help her hand in the pocket of her lab coat, clenching her fingers around a small object. "Wait!" Bulma took it out of the pocket and lifted it for the monster to see. "I remembered I forgot to install a different theta waves converter."

"Of course you did," he murmured in a deadpan voice.

Bulma glared at him. Damn it! Why does he have to be so sharp? My intricate plan just went down the drain! Shaking from frustration, Bulma undid the screws to one of the panel and started installing the converter, hooking it to the rest of the machinery. Years of planning, enduring this nightmare and I failed! Angrily, she slammed the panel back on and started fastening the screws back on. She stole a glance at the monster who watched her like a hawk. Just wait, asshole, she thought. I'm a genius, for crying out loud! I'll find a way to put you down for good and save my loved ones. I promise you that.

"There, all done." Bulma slid her wrench back into the pocket of her coat and patted the machine.

The monster nodded and seated himself inside the cockpit. "Good. Get in and show me how to operate the machine."

Bulma climbed up a ladder and slid inside the small space, wriggling herself between the monster and her unconscious son. She licked her dry lips and forcefully turned her head away from Trunks; the sight of her wounded child would distract her too much. What counted the most now was to keep him and herself alive. Bulma flipped three switches closest to her right hand. "I'm starting the engine and initiating the dimensional dampeners. Closing the lid," she said and was about to press the button sealing the cockpit when the monster grabbed her wrist.

"Just a second." He smirked, a ball of energy building atop his palm. "I want to give your friends a farewell gift."

"What?" Bulma gasped.

She had barely time to blink when he tossed the ball of ki forth, into the hangar. Her palm reacted instinctively when she slammed the button closing the cockpit's lid and engaging the vertical thrusters. The machine darted upward, the g-force slamming Bulma into the seat. It shot through the hangar's roof like a bullet, making a hole, and lost the velocity. The vehicle hovered over the Capsule Corp compound.

The fiery orange blast reflected in Bulma's blue eyes. The ball of fire expanded, swallowing her lab and the entire building, sweeping over the West City. "No!" Bulma cried out. Chichi, Yamcha, Krillin. . . They were all down there, incinerated in an instant. Shocked by the sight of apocalypse, she glared at the monster who was chuckling darkly. "Why did you do that? The people of Earth were no threat to you!"

"True, they weren't," he said, a note of amusement ringing in his coarse voice.

Bulma stifled a curse and slammed her fist into the button engaging the inter-dimensional warp drive. Suddenly, the air swirled, sparking as a rip in space opened. The machine jerked and dove into it. "You're a monster," she muttered hatefully.

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" he leaned back, lazily looking at the multitude of fantastic colors flashing outside the vehicle.

The lightshow lasted only about five minutes. Quite abruptly, the machine reached the end of the wormhole and got coughed out into a clear, blue sky. Bulma yelped when the vehicle started spinning about as it made a corkscrew fall toward the ground. She grabbed the steers and jerked them forcefully, struggling to stabilize the flight. Somehow, she managed to put the machine into the vertical position and land, although it wasn't a soft touch down.

"We're there. Planet Earth of one of the other universes," she said and looked up to survey the place they had landed on. Her eyes widened, disbelieving the lush green of the nearby forest, the flowers covering a nearby meadow as a sapphire stream lazily snaked across it. "It looks so beautiful," Bulma whispered to herself.

"Not for long." The monster pressed the button opening the cockpit's lid and stood up, looking at the horizon. The corner of his lip turned upward. "I sense several strong power levels here. How exciting." Before Bulma could stop him, he grabbed Trunks and tossed him out of the vehicle.

The youth's limp body slammed into the grassy ground hard. He groaned and coughed blood, convulsing from pain.

A scream got caught up in Bulma's throat. Unable to make a sound, she rushed to the edge of the cockpit and quickly swung her legs over it. She jumped. As she landed, her knees gave in and she tore the skin off them, but she didn't care. Crawling on all fours, she got to her son's side.

Trunks opened his blue eyes and smiled seeing Bulma lean over him. His voice barely audible over the chirping of the birds, he uttered, "Mom. . ."

Bulma placed her finger on his lips. "Don't talk, Trunks. Just lay still, son, and rest."

The monster laughed. "Yes, boy, rest in peace!"

Suddenly, a beam of yellow energy shot out of his fingers, grazing Bulma's shoulder and hitting Trunks straight in his chest. The boy's blue eyes widened in surprise. He turned his gaze to his mother and opened his mouth to say his final words, but he didn't have enough time. Trunks gasped, letting out his final breath and his head limply lolled to the side.

"Trunks!" Bulma shrieked. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, but he didn't respond. Hyperventilating, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and turned it, encountering Trunk's empty eyes.

He was gone. Her baby boy was dead.

"No, not Trunks," Bulma whimpered, her voice cracking. She shook her head, disbelieving that it was happening.

Behind her back, the monster snorted at her grief. Unfazed by Trunks' death, he stored Bulma's invention into a capsule and closed it in his calloused palm. "With the machine in my possession, I didn't need a leverage over you anymore."

Bulma stiffened. A leverage over me? Is that what Trunks only ever meant to him? Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. In her azure eyes, grief swirled, mixing with growing rage. Her hand wandered to the pocket of her lab coat where she had her wrench. The metal felt cool and comforting against her fingertips.

She acted without thinking. Blinded by overwhelming anger, she jumped at the monster, swinging the wrench at his face as hard as she could. She yelled, putting all of her strength into the ferocious attack, but the wretched monster easily stopped it with just one finger.

Smirking at her, he grabbed the wrench and tore it out of Bulma's grasp like an adult takes an infant's toy. He hurled it into the sky, making the object disappear in the clouds. Probably, tossed with only a fraction of his strength, it flew all the way out of Earth's atmosphere. Chuckling at the unarmed Bulma, the monster grabbed her throat and lifted her off the ground. "Do you wish to join the bastard in the after world?"

Bulma clawed at his wrist as he was chocking the life out of her. She kicked, but her feet were dangling in the air. "Go ahead and kill me! After all you've done to me, I'm not afraid of it," she uttered while gasping for oxygen.

"And that's why I'll let you live." The monster flexed his fingers and watched Bulma crash into the ground at his feet. He crouched by her, observing her with his usual, mocking grin. "Live, Bulma, until you die of old age. Watch as the world crumbles around you. Live knowing you've unleashed a scourge on all of the universes." He tossed the capsule with Bulma's machine and caught it. "Thank you for the machine. I'll make a good use of it."

Bulma clawed at the soil, tearing clusters of grass out with her bare hands. Gritting her teeth and snarling, she glared at his back as he took off to the skies. "Damn you to hell, monster!" she yelled as she sat on her heels.

Her head lolled to the side and her gaze rested on her son who lay with a hole drilled in his chest. My son. . . My beloved son. . . Bulma tossed her head back and let out a guttural scream, venting her pain.

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Author's note:

I hope the depressing tone of the previous chapter hasn't scared you off.

Don't be shy and comment. Tell me what you liked, what you hated and if you want the next chapter (if so, I'll see what I can do).