Gohan settled himself in his
hiding place: what used to be the
basement of a small house. The dwelling
itself had been completely blown away; not even a cinder of what had once been
above ground had the luxury of an existence.
Overall, the place was poor cover, but that did not matter; judging form
the lingering stench of death, the androids had ravaged this area mere days ago
and would not return to it for some time.
More destruction---and therefore more
death---could be seen ahead. Gohan knew
that he should care---he always used to---but for the past three years, he had
been numb. Losing every person that one
cared about could have that effect on someone.
Gohan's friends had all died the same day; the only consolation the boy
had was that he hadn't witnessed all of the killings. Tears stung his eyes at the memory; he still had some feeling
left, after all.
Gohan tore his gaze away from the window
and forced it back upon his books.
Looking outside was a painful experience; the outdoors reminded him of
his father, who had died a few months before.
He wasn't over it yet; he probably never would be. Without the closeness Gohan felt only with
him, there was nothing but a black hole in his heart, slowly sucking his soul
into nothingness.
The boy's head suddenly snapped up, his
body going rigid. Several strong ki
signatures crackled through the air; the others must be battling someone. Confused and alarmed, Gohan tried to
determine which signal or signals belonged to the enemy.
"Vegeta…Piccolo…Kurilin…Yamucha…" He whispered off each power's owner as he
recognized it. None was
unfamiliar. He felt his blood run cold;
the kis weren't directed against each other, so what could they be
fighting? Whatever it was, it didn't
seem to have any lifeforce. How was
that possible?
One of the ki signatures abruptly
vanished. Panicked now, Gohan shot out
of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor. Ignoring the noise, he rushed over to his window, thrust it open,
and leapt into the sky, a pale blue flying aura coming to life around him.
"Gohan!"
He heard his mother's voice echo from behind and below. He paid no attention to it; he had to get to
the battle. Something terrible had
happened.
As he streaked through the air, Gohan
mentally berated himself for cutting off contact with his friends after his
father's death; he might have learned of this new threat sooner and been able
to prevent the killing he had just sensed.
His selfish desire had cost one of his friends his life.
Another ki winked out of existence. Two friends now. This couldn't be happening.
It just couldn't. Screaming in
fury, Gohan flashed into Super Saiyajin for the second time in his life; the
first had been when his father died, arbitrarily stolen from him by a cruel
heart virus. The boy's flying aura was
now golden, the same as his once-black hair, and his dark eyes shifted to a
bright, merciless aquamarine. With
newly released speed, he accelerated toward the battlefield.
Gohan saw it before he reached it. Flames whipped about the tops of
skyscrapers; thick columns of smoke rose from the blaze, nearly blotting out
the sun. Ki blasts lit the sky. In the air, a number of black dots moved
with inhuman speed. As the boy watched,
one dot began to plummet from the heavens, its ki dropping to nothing.
Rage pulsed through his veins like
blood. Whatever was destroying his
friends was going to pay; he would personally see to that. No one harmed the people he loved and got
away with it.
Fiercely, Gohan forced reason into his
mind. A blind attack would be sheer
folly; it was the act of an undisciplined fool, and would get him into serious
trouble much earlier than he could afford.
It was his job to protect everyone now, since his father wasn't here to
do it, and though he had failed in his duty to three of them, he would not
allow himself to let down those that remained.
Or his father.
He stopped a short distance from the battle
to observe how it was playing out. For
human eyes, the fight would not have been close enough to see, but Gohan was
half Saiyajin and had the more acute senses of his extraterrestrial heritage;
he picked it out easily. And he was not
pleased with what he witnessed.
Vegeta, his body aglow with the golden fire
of the Super Saiyajin, was locked in a furious duel with a tall, sleek figure,
and seemed to be losing. The figure
appeared to be female, with blonde hair cut just above her shoulders, and
dressed in blue denim. She easily, even
playfully, dodged each of the flurry of the Saiyajin prince's flurry of punches
and kicks. This, of course, incensed
Vegeta, who in response began to attack more aggressively. And more recklessly. The figure's arm whipped out with impossible
speed, catching him full in the jaw and knocking him back several feet.
The struggle going on beyond that one was
even less encouraging to watch. Forming
an unusual-looking team, Piccolo and Kurilin simultaneously battled another
figure. This one had a similar build to
the first, except that it was clearly male.
It casually shot its leg outward and contacted Kurilin's ribs, snapping
the bones as though they were fragile twigs.
A fraction of a second later, it extended its palm toward Piccolo and
fired a ki blast which sent the Namekseijin flying backward and smashing into
the wall of a nearby skyscraper.
Unable to wait any longer, Gohan launched
himself into the fray, targeting the male figure. The young Saiyajin led with his foot and drove it down hard onto
his unprepared opponent's head. As he
made contact, he received a surprise of his own.
He had expected to feel the dull crunch of
bone under his foot, but was met instead with the harsh clang of metal. The resulting shock of his own blow rang up
Gohan's leg as he watched the figure drop several feet before catching
himself. It gracefully floated up to
eye level with the boy.
Gohan, still half-paralyzed by incredulity,
could do little more than stare. The
figure was dressed in blue jeans, and a black shirt whose collar was covered by
a red scarf. His skin was quite pale,
almost white, harshly contrasting with the dark, shoulder-length hair that
framed his face. A cold smile was
plainly visible on his thin lips. It
was the eyes, though, that captured the most attention. The irises seemed much too large, and
gleamed a metallic grey. They briefly
flickered a pale red light.
"You must be Gohan," he stated, his voice
softer than velvet. The boy's utter
shock that he knew his name seemed to please the figure, who appeared to be in
his late teens, and he continued, "I'm somewhat impressed with your attack;
according to my data you should not have been strong enough to displace my
position. But don't try to fool
yourself, kid. You're far from a match
for me. Here, let me show you."
The youth blurred, and before he could
raise his arms in defence, Gohan was greeted with a knee in his stomach. Gasping in pain, he doubled over, then
suffered a sharp blow to the back of the neck.
His attacker lowered his leg, allowing him to fall.
The boy's head swam like a school of
confused fish. Desperately, he
struggled to maintain both consciousness and Super Saiyajin power. He willed his senses to clear, catching
himself before he fell too far, and shot back upward to engage the dark-haired
youth.
Blow after blow met with empty air; for all
his speed, Gohan simply could not keep pace.
He sent a vicious punch toward the youth's head, overextending himself
because his opponent dodged, then felt a cold hand on his chest. The cold was quickly replaced by a searing
heat, and the young Saiyajin screamed in agony as the ki blast propelled him
backward.
Strong arms caught him, wrapped around his
body. Gohan tensed at the touch,
fearing another ferocious attack, but then let himself relax; the hold was
gentle. Upon opening his eyes, which
had squeezed shut in response to the pain, he saw large green hands encircling
his torso. He permitted himself a brief
smile; of course it would be his mentor.
"Hey there, kid," Piccolo said in his deep,
gruff voice. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." Gohan nodded, fighting off nausea caused by the scent of his
burned flesh. Piccolo released him.
"Well, well. Look who's back up."
Gohan and Piccolo lifted their gazes to see the dark-haired youth
floating before them, smiling with amusement.
"You Namekseijin certainly are a resilient lot; it's a pity that you're
not more entertaining. And I must say,
the Saiyajin aren't doing a great deal better in that department. Just look at Vegeta; he's barely laid a
finger on Eighteen."
Gohan took a quick look at the other
battle, and his eyes widened in shock.
The Saiyajin prince's armour was thoroughly cracked, most of it broken
off completely, and what was left of his bodysuit clung to him in barely decent
tatters. Blood flooded forth from
several hideous gashes. Hanging limply
at his side, probably broken, was his left arm. The boy heard a low female voice laugh; Vegeta's opponent was completely
unhurt.
What is she?
Gohan wondered to himself. How can
she be so strong? Vegeta's barely
touched her and he looks the worst he's been since Frieza killed him back on
Nameksei. Then there's the weird way
that the dark-haired one referred to her…
"Eighteen?" he asked aloud.
"Android Eighteen," a strained voice behind
him clarified. Gohan turned to see
Kurilin. The small man's eyes were
clouded with pain, and in a few places the white bone of broken ribs punctured
his orange gi. "And the one in front of
us is Android Seventeen. They're a
couple of gifts for us, sent care of Dr. Gero."
"Dr. Gero?" Gohan repeated. The name meant nothing to him. Although, after he thought about it, he may
have heard it mentioned once before…
"That's right," came Android Seventeen's
smooth voice, drawing all attention back to him. "The mastermind behind the old Red Ribbon Army: the one your father decimated as a boy. Eighteen and myself were created to carry
out Dr. Gero's vengeance on him."
"Vengeance?" Gohan's pupilless aquamarine eyes narrowed dangerously; his
golden aura blazed with a new ferocity.
Each word that he spoke was a bitter growl. "My father has been dead for half a year! You don't have a purpose anymore! Why are you after us?"
The android's smile broadened, his metallic
grey eyes gleaming more brightly. "It
makes no difference that Goku is already dead.
We still would have done this afterward, anyway. We need no purpose. This is just a game, kid; it's too bad that
your friends weren't better players."
A game!
Gohan thought savagely. He and that
cybernetic witch are slaughtering my friends!
He calls that a game? Well, if
he wants a better player, I'll give him one!
Feeding off his fury the way a bonfire fed
off wood, the child's aura flared into a massive, murderous corona. The shockwave blasted through buildings as
though they were constructed of toothpicks.
His scream of rage ripped through the heavens.
Gohan tensed, his predatory eyes focused on
his prey; his stiff blond hair whipped wildly in the seething incandescence
that enveloped his body.
A firm hand gripped his shoulder. "Gohan, wait!" Piccolo warned. "Don't…"
Angrily, the boy jerked out of his mentor's
grasp. No words would deter him, and
not even Piccolo was strong enough to restrain him physically; he was a Super
Saiyajin, and the Namekseijin's power was to his own as a candleflame was to a
supernova. Heedless of all but the need
to destroy he grinning finger before him, he shot forward like a comet.
Seventeen gasped in surprise as he narrowly
dodged the punch that Gohan threw at his face.
Unsated and uncontrollable, the boy launched his leg forward, snarling
ferociously as his opponent vanished just before his foot could make contact
with his chest. The young Saiyajin
instantly spun about in a roundhouse, intending to catch Seventeen where he had
reappeared at his rear, but was still to slow.
A knee slammed into the underside of his chin, nearly breaking his jaw;
the force of the blow sent him tumbling backward across the sky.
Gohan managed to stop himself a fraction of
a second before his body crashed into the side of what must once have been the
tallest skyscraper in the city. Loose
chunks of concrete were jarred from their precarious perches by his aura, and
plummeted to become part of the multitudinous piles of rubble on the ground. A coppery flavour flooded the child's
mouth. Blood. Distastefully, he spat it off to one side. Focusing his eyes ahead, he saw Seventeen
floating in front of him. Even at the
distance that separated the two, it was clear that the android was no longer
smiling; the expression on his face was one of shocked anger.
"Where did all that come from?" the young
Saiyajin heard him wonder. "He
shouldn't have been able to get that close to hitting me; it seems that Dr.
Gero's data was way off for Gohan. Not
that I can't handle the kid anyway, though.
It's time he learned his lesson about jumping into a battle that he
can't win."
That was the boy's only warning; Seventeen
vanished, then instantaneously reappeared in front of him. Somehow, he managed to raise his arm in time
to block the kick, but it helped little; the sheer force of the blow drove him
into the wall. Concrete dust rained
down upon his body, invaded his breathing passages. Gohan coughed violently and tried to focus his attention on the battle.
He wasn't able to do so. Brutal impact after brutal impact concussed
his stomach, chest and skull. Volumes
of air were forced out of his lungs, accompanied by mouthfuls of blood. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Panicked instinct taking control, he lashed out blindly.
He felt his knee connect with
something. An exclamation of pain
echoed in his ears; Gohan's mind was
too foggy to register whether the cry had come from his opponent's lips or his
own. Regardless, the boy opened his palm
and fired the most powerful ki blast he could currently muster; it managed to
push his attacker away from him.
Hacking and dazed, Gohan levitated himself
above the ruined building. His head
throbbed so hard that it felt as though it were still absorbing blows. Pieces of broken ribs ground together;
sticky blood covered his chin like a smear of crimson paint. His power began to wane, and he struggled to
maintain it. Golden hair darkened to
black, then brightened again. It
flickered back and forth between the two colours like a sky that had trouble
deciding whether it should be day or night.
In the end, night won out. The boy's hair and aura dropped, his eyes
once again dark; he hadn't the strength left to retain Super Saiyajin
form. Looking up and trying to focus
his bleary vision, he thought he saw a look of anger on Android Seventeen's
face; it appeared that there was a thin rivulet of red running from the corner
of the machine's mouth. Blood, maybe? It seemed odd that an android would bleed…
"You're going to pay for that lucky shot,
you vicious little brat!" Seventeen snarled.
He faced his palms outward, bringing the heels of his hands
together. A ki blast began to form; it
started as a pinpoint of light, but grew rapidly into a luminous ball bigger
than the handspan. Lightning danced
around the ball, increasing in violence as each second passed.
Gohan tensed, sensing doom; he knew that he
wouldn't be able to move quickly enough to avoid the discharge of energy, and
bereft as he was of the toughness of the Super Saiyajin body, there was little
doubt that it would kill him. He
thought briefly of Piccolo and Kurilin, how he hated to leave them… But then he thought about his father, and
how much he missed him; he would soon see him again. Calmed now, the child awaited the embrace of pain that would end
his life.
Otousan. I'm
coming to see you. We'll be together
again soon…
He saw the ki blast shoot forth from the
android's palms. A panicked voice
shouted his name. Suddenly, there was a
figure in his line of vision. A figure
in the path of the blast. Gohan's eyes
widened in horror as he realized what was happening. From behind, large arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a
well-muscled body, and twisted him away from the attack so that body could bear
its brunt. Three screams, two deep and
one high, rent the heavens with their hideous harmony of agony.
Gohan and the person holding him---Piccolo,
the boy had time to realize---went limp and fell spiralling to the ground; a
cloud of dust and debris rose around them, the tiny pieces of concrete then
trickling down upon their bodies.
The boy greyed out for a moment. When he roused, he sucked in a sharp breath;
his side felt as though it had been set afire.
Piccolo's heavy form lay atop him, restricting his breathing. Grunting with the effort, Gohan pushed his
mentor's dead weight over to one side.
Dead weight? No…
The child scrambled to his knees,
terrified, and placed his small hands on the Namekseijin's broad shoulder. Shakily, he whispered, "Piccolo? Piccolo!"
When no response came, he began to frantically shake the shoulder, tears
cutting clear paths down his dirt-covered face, brokenly pleading, "You've got
to wake up! Piccolo, please! Please…" Gohan trailed off into incoherent sobs.
His mentor's ki had vanished; he was dead.
Gohan didn't want to see it: the wound that had killed Piccolo. But he made himself look anyway. A gaping hole dominated where the Namekseijin's
stomach had once been; thin trails of purple blood radiated out in several
directions from the cavity, and leftover smoke from the ki blast continued to
hiss upward, the last sound that the body would ever make. Forcing his eyes up, the boy stared blankly
at the smaller body that lay a short distance away; the ki blast, because of
its width, had cut it in half. There
was no need to search for its ki; Gohan knew it wouldn't be there.
Kurilin was dead as well.
They're gone. Gone. The android was
aiming at me. I should
have died. Not them.
Piccolo; first his father's worst enemy,
then his own mentor and best friend. He
had treated Gohan harshly during the battle against the Saiyajins, growling at
him to get a backbone or get lost, but the boy had seen through that; the
once-evil Namekseijin was simply afraid to show or admit that he cared about
someone. Such fears did not stop him
from taking Nappa's lethal blast in the child's place, though. Before he'd died, he had told Gohan how
proud he was of him and that he was the only real friend that he'd ever
had. On Nameksei, he'd rescued the boy
several times: deflecting the burst of
Gohan's own power that Frieza had turned back, sweeping him out of the path of
a stray ki bolt as Goku battled the intergalactic tyrant, catching him when the
massive shockwave of an explosion would have sent him hurtling into the airless
void of space… And now he was gone
again, dying the same way as he had the first time: protecting Gohan.
Kurilin… Had there been a more constant
companion? He'd stood by Gohan every
step of the way: speaking encouraging
words to him during his first battle, joining him to seek the Dragonballs on
Nameksei despite the terrible presence of Frieza, helping to fight the most
powerful beings in the universe even though he knew he was the one who was the
quickest and easiest to destroy… He'd
been someone who had never been at a loss for something to do, from his plan to
cut Vegeta's tail during the battle with the Saiyajins, to using the taiyoken
technique on Nameksei to escape the bloated and spiky monster that had been
Dodoria, to distracting Vegeta while Gohan raced to have his hidden potential
released; things didn't always work out, but at least Kurilin had always been
ready to act. This time, acting had
exacted a terrible price; now he would act no more.
Rage and emptiness waged war in the boy's
heart. There should have been no
question as to which the victor would be; normally, he would have flown into a
passion, seeking to destroy whatever had the temerity to strike down his friends. Now, though, the void seemed to have gained
the advantage. His two closest friends
had traded their lives for his.
Shaking his head, Gohan rose to his
feet. Those demonic androids had to be
stopped; if they weren't, they would torture the planet to death. He summoned his power, feeling his hair whip
in the updraft of his aura; both were golden once more as the strength of the
Super Saiyajin flowed through his body.
Aquamarine eyes scanned the situation above.
A sharp-voiced cry rang out and a blur shot
to the ground, slamming into it with such force that the resulting concussion
nearly caused him to lose his footing.
Dust clouded the air a short distance away; as it cleared, he could see
Vegeta propping himself up on his good arm, eyes squeezed shut and teeth
gritted against pain, blood running down his face from several cuts in his
forehead. Android Eighteen laughed in
her low, sultry voice and launched herself toward his prone body.
Knowing that hesitation would prove fatal,
Gohan rushed to Vegeta's aid; the boy managed to catch the android by surprise
and knock her aside. She crashed into a
pile of rubble, which promptly
proceeded to bury her, if only for a moment.
The boy tensed as she extricated herself and heard Vegeta move behind
him. The latter was good; he was well
aware that he would need help to win this battle. Despite the Saiyajin prince's condition, he would still be able
to fight; his fierce pride would never allow him to stop before he was dead.
"Out of my way, brat!" A powerful hand gripped the boy's arm,
yanking him backward, and he was met with the sight of Vegeta climbing
unsteadily to his feet. "I fight my
battles alone! I don't need any help
from an upstart halfbreed!"
"But…"
"I think you should take him up on his offer,
little man," Android Eighteen suggested mockingly. "You've got so little power that you're no fun; maybe fighting
the two of you together would be more entertaining." She paused for a moment, fixing her expressionless gaze upon
Gohan. Her lips curled upward in a
derisive smile. "Then again…"
The Saiyajin prince bared his teeth,
snarling viciously. "I don't need that
brat's help to defeat you, android!
I'll do it myself! When I'm
finished with you, there won't be enough scrap metal left to make a can
opener!"
Vegeta crouched and closed his eyes,
raising his ki; a golden aura of power blazed to life around him. After a few seconds, his eyes snapped open
and he shot forward, intending to drive his fist through Eighteen's stomach. Gohan was about to make a move to aid
him---his senses had told him that he himself had more energy left than did the
Saiyajin prince---but a smooth chuckle from his rear halted him, and he turned.
"And what do you think you're
doing?" Android Seventeen asked teasingly, his slender arms crossed. "You heard Vegeta; he doesn't want your
help. It would be rude of you to
intrude on his fight. Besides, weren't
you and I in the middle of something?
You need to learn to finish what you start, kid."
The boy tensed, a grim look on his
face. What do I do now? I can't beat him alone… Brought on by fear, tremors worked their way
through his small body. He struggled to
keep the evidence of his fright from showing in his eyes. It wasn't as though he'd never faced death
before; he had several times, and it should no longer frighten him. If he was about to die, he would do so
fighting.
Seventeen rushed him. Gohan, moving with a speed he did not know
he possessed, blocked each blow, but his arms paid a price with every impact;
he could hear and feel small snaps as bone began to crack bit by bit. Dodging a punch, the boy blasted into the
sky and raised both hands above his head, the back of one flat against the palm
of the other. He began to channel his
ki into them.
"Masen…"
A heavy blow to his back cut him short; the channelled ki
dissipated. He twisted about as he
fell, gritting his teeth in pain. He raised
his hands again… and was met with Seventeen's fist in his stomach. His body slammed through a pile of rubble
and shocking agony racked every bone; he couldn't remember the last time that
something had hurt this much.
Dizzily, the child tried to rise. His power was gone now; it took
concentration to maintain Super Saiyajin strength, and he needed all he had
just to remain conscious… but he had to keep going. He had to.
A foot pressed against his throat, forcing
him back down. Gohan went limp,
exhausted and too weak even to struggle.
The pressure increased, cutting off his air supply. Blackness formed in his peripheral vision
and slowly started to creep into his main line of sight. Dimly, he heard a strangled cry and felt a
ki extinguish; the part of his mind that could still function registered this
as Vegeta's death. The pain in the
boy's head subsided, replaced by an almost pleasant lightness. Whatever small amount of pleasure he could
have derived from that sensation was torn away by one thought: an awful one that cycled over and over
through his brain, the only thing in his darkening world that had any meaning.
I failed them. I
failed them…
He lost time. How much, he didn't and never would know. Blearily, Gohan opened his eyes, staring at
the clear blue sky above him. He felt
surprisingly little pain, considering that in all likelihood he was supposed to
be dead; lying still for a few moments granted him the energy and
clearheadedness that were necessary for him to rise. Nausea swept through him when he reached his knees, and he
doubled over, shuddering. It took all
of his willpower to keep from vomiting, but he did, and he slowly lifted his
head.
Looking at the devastation, it was
difficult to imagine that the area in which he knelt had once been a city. Nothing but piles of concrete, glass, and
other assorted debris were visible; not a single structure remained
standing. Broken limbs from a few trees
littered the space among the heaps of rubble; great, dusty craters pockmarked
the ground. A soft breeze whistled
through the air, the only sound that broke the silence. A silence that was unnatural. Cities, especially ones as large as this one
had been, would normally have been filled with the bustling sounds of everyday
life: people talking on the streets,
engines rumbling as cars sped past, motorists honking horns and yelling at
those in front of them to get moving… but now it was just that quiet, lonely
wind. The air, once fresh, was now
clouded over with a miasma of smoke and death.
Empty, the place was, the same as Gohan's
heart as he picked out the dark spots that were the bodies of his friends. Strangely, the boy did not feel the urge to
cry; perhaps the well of his tears, which had provided his eyes with the
sorrowful, salty water unfailingly throughout his life, had finally gone dry. He felt only an odd numbness, coming from
the knowledge that he had failed to protect those he loved.
Rising to his feet, still unsteady, he
turned and began to stagger away. He
didn't know where he was going, and didn't much care at that point; he just
needed to leave the killing field. He
couldn't go home, couldn't go to his mother.
How could he face her, or anybody, when he had failed to save his
friends? Always, in the eyes of anyone
he knew, would be the knowledge that he was the only one left. The only one. And he shouldn't have been.
No, it was better by far to leave everyone;
they wouldn't see the deaths of all their friends in his face, that way. He wouldn't cause them any further
pain. Let their grief dull over time;
they didn't deserve the anguish. He was
the one who had failed; all the agony should be his.
It was all that he had left, anyway.
A violent concussion rocked the earth,
jolting Gohan out the past. Daring to
stand a little straighter, he scanned the area ahead of him to see what was
happening. His eyes narrowed and his lips
tightened; he might have known.
Against the fading late-afternoon light, he
could see two dark forms in the sky; the forms were sleek and glided with a
deadly, programmed grace. Below them,
frantic feet scrabbled across the dirt, and panicked arms flailed through the
air as a few dozen people tried desperately to escape their ends.
It was a favourite game of the
androids: using a large ki blast to
frighten a few stragglers, then casually picking them off the way a hunter
picked off flushed rabbits. The android
has no rules, and the humans had only one:
do whatever it takes to live.
That rule took precedence over all else, basic decency included. If someone was in the way, he was shoved
aside; if someone tripped, he was trampled.
Staying alive was all that mattered.
Gohan watched the scene in a way that his
old self would not have been able to understand: detachedly, without a trace of anger or pity. Such feelings had died with his friends
those three years before. The people
who constituted the prey of the androids would receive no help from him; he'd
learned that it was far better to stay out of the way. Sighing in resignation, the boy huddled in
the deeply shadowed corner of his hiding place---and stopped suddenly, his brow
furrowed in curiosity.
Among the dozens of faint ki signatures of
the humans, one plainly stood out, rather a bit more powerful than the
rest. Quite odd, this was; its owner
seemed to have the strength of a very formidable human fighter. But there were no such humans left…
Intrigued, Gohan rose again, just far
enough for his eyes to clear ground level.
He allowed his senses to guide his gaze, searching for the power's
source. A moment later, her found it,
as a small figure caught his attention.
Deftly dodging around the legs of the
stream of terrified innocents was a tiny, pale-haired child, no more than a
toddler. His frame was slight; his eyes
were a striking shade of blue. The
amount of ki that radiated from his body was impossible to miss.
A flash of familiarity struck Gohan as he
stared at the toddler. It couldn't
be…
Thin shafts of ki began to rain down, some
intended to scare and some intended to kill.
One by one, the stragglers fell, small holes burned through their
hearts. Each time, the toddler smoothly
evaded the collapsing bodies, but he was quickly becoming the tallest target;
it wouldn't be long before the androids took aim at him.
An old instinct suddenly surged through
Gohan, urging him to rescue the child. He stopped short, chastising himself. What can I do? I'm no use in protecting anybody. If I were, the others wouldn't have been killed. The kid will die with or without my help, so
why even bother?
The last adult fell, and this time the
toddler was not nimble enough to dodge it; he too went down, uttering a
frightened yelp. Slowly, the androids
drifted to the ground to survey the results of their game more closely. Their cold, too-large eyes apparently hadn't
seen him yet, but it wouldn't be long before they did; with a great effort, the
small child started to crawl out from under the corpse which lay atop him.
The instinct came again, stronger this
time, and still, Gohan fought it. I
can't help him… His mind twisted into
a knot of indecision. He saw Android
Eighteen turn her head and smile wickedly as she noticed the child.
Eyes narrowed to slits, hands clenched into
fists, jaws set into a vice, Gohan made his choice.
