Yes, I’m back, no more school. I know I’ve got a couple of other stories, but I’ll be working on them, too, as well as this one. I adopted this story from Takuma, and it was a really great idea. So, there are many stories out there, poor, helpless things without a home. Won’t you adopt a story today?

I don’t own DBZ.

LOST

Chapter 1

It was raining. The man hunched deeper into his trench coat as he made his way for the barely visible entryway of the old Highgate Hotel. Tonight was a bad night, the man thought to himself as he made it to the entrance. The great archway shielded him from most of the rain, at least long enough for him to catch his breath. He didn’t want to stay too long... no telling who could be calling these ruins home now. Most of the buildings were like this... piles of rubble, empty shells, or just half of a building left of them. When the androids had tired of hunting people to kill, they amused themselves with destroying the great structures mankind had built in times of peace. At least, until that kid had come along and saved everybody.

The man harrumphed to himself at his own thoughts. After all, the kid might have killed off the androids, but there was no saving them from what the androids had done to their society. He used to be a lawyer... now he was barely fed, hiding in the ruins of a hotel, and about to commit a crime. He felt the weight of the gun in his pocket that he had stolen off a dead policeman a while back. He needed it more than the policeman did... not only to protect himself, but his daughter. Life had become a fight to survive, in the midst of so much devastation. Humans were fighting against humans for any stray morsel, anything of value that they could trade for food. This was no life... it was hell.

He looked around before making his way across the street. There was one building in this area that had been rebuilt, and he hoped he might find food there, if not by begging, then by theft. He walked as fast as he could to Capsule Corp.

Trunks gave a loud cry as he fired the Galactic Gun attack at the barren desert mountain. A great crash was heard, as most of the mountain disintegrated before his eyes. He had been practicing the attack his father taught him, putting more and more energy into it each time. It didn’t matter to Trunks how strategic the attack was, only that his father had taught it to him. He thought of his father a lot lately, of that year he had spent with him in the Room of Spirit and Time, as they prepared for the battle with Cell in the other timeline. He sighed. The time he spent with his father wasn’t intimate... they hadn’t even sparred together. But he had watched his father, watched him for a year, and everything he ever needed to know about his father, he could see by watching him train. He learned his father’s attacks, learned of his discipline and his unwillingness to quit. He had learned of his weaknesses, too... whether his father would admit them or not. And he promised himself that in his own way, he would become just like his father.

He breathed deeply, then resumed his training, using the same techniques he had seen his father use so many times.

Bulma yawned as she pored over her blueprints, making corrections here, adding more detail there, trying to bring perfection to her newest invention in the dim light. The generator they used was old and damaged, and often the lights would go out and she would have to bring her work outside just to see it. The dimly lit room and the sound of dripping water from the leaks in the ceiling threatened to lull her to sleep, but she fought it. This invention was going to help more than a few people, and she was sure it would be the first step to rebuilding their city. If she could only get it to work.

She looked up suddenly, thinking she heard a sound, but when only the dripping water was heard, she went back to her work. Ideas spun through her head, more than one at a time, as she contemplated the blueprint before her, another invention idea, and a list of things she would have Trunks do as soon as he got back from training. The first thing on the list was to fix the leaky ceiling.

Suddenly she felt a presence closeby, and spun around in her chair to see a gun pointed at her face.

“Just do what I say, and no one will get hurt,” the man promised.

Trunks looked up suddenly, sensing danger. His mother! As fast as he could, he flew back to the city, faster than human eyes could ever hope to see. He pushed himself faster and faster, keeping focused on his mother’s ki, until he could see the outline of the city over the horizon. And just like that, Bulma’s ki faded.

“Mother!” he cried, eventually crashing through a wall of the building. He was by her side in an instant... but it was too late. His eyes misted as he saw her lying there limp, her eyes open and lifeless, a trickle of blood coming from the gunshot wound in her forehead. “Mother!” he yelled, still calling to her, as though she could just return to her body, and everything would be okay. But she didn’t return, and Trunks cried out, crushing her lifeless body to him as he went Super-saiyan, then Super-saiyan 2, and would have gone up a level or two if a thought hadn’t struck him... who had done this to his mother?

His more primal Saiyan instincts kicked in, and he sniffed the air. It wasn’t hard to catch the unfamiliar scent... the man hadn’t showered in what seemed like a month or two. It was definitely a man, he could tell. And he also knew how he had left the building. His eyes narrowed in hatred, he dropped the lifeless body of his mother, and began to track his prey.