DB Multiverse

DBM Universe 12-14 and "Mirai" world : Twin Pain

Written by Foenidis

Adapted by Adamantine

In this alternative world where Mirai Trunks comes from, all our heroes were killed by the cyborgs... This story tells the details of that, it tells you about a part of the common story of universes 12 and 14.

[Chapter Cover]

The small man shook his head in the hope it'd disperse the fog that was making him dizzy. He blinked, cursed the limits of his own body. His body was apparently proud and it answered to Krilin's requests, his look was less blurred and his trail of thoughts was almost back to normal.

He could see now the courageous Yamcha grab the merciless vise, struggle to loosen those cold and barbaric fingers that were strangling the fantastic Namekian fighter that was nothing more than a broken puppet in the strong grip.

He gave a start as we hardly managed to make out the movement of the cyborg's hand that went from Piccolo's fist, that fell clumsily, toward the neck of poor Yamcha.

The wounded man put up a brief and useless resistance. At first, he tried in vain to reach his tormentor, then grabbed full hand the devilish machine that was painfully compressing his throat, but eventually, his arms softly fell.

Anger, despair, powerlessness bumped into the broken body of Krilin who was shaken by a nervous spasm. But because of his crushed cervical, the courageous fighter couldn't even make a move to help his tormented friends.

Wet and warm tears blurred his sight as a vice was crushing his throat that a silent scream split.


No! He hadn't lived, fought until now to witness such a nightmarish sight!

In an instant, he saw it again, lived again the extraordinary feelings of this incredible adventure since the moment when he had gone to Kame Sennin's small island to the return of his old friend.

This friend he had lost forever, the fighter he had thought to be invincible. Until then.

How could one not believe it? He had easily killed the new Freezer. Basking in a golden glow, he emitted such a strength!

And yet... Yet... the powerful super saiyan had been stricken down by a mysterious virus in only a few days. A damned bug that came from who knew where... from his stay in space, most likely.

Fate had thumbed Goku's nose, fate that liked to make light of certainties!

An unbearable surge overwhelmed him, obliging him to close his eyes under the pain. The same pain that he had felt when he had seen a coffin made of raw wood being put in an hole in the ground. The same pain that had paralysed him when he had realised that never again he'd hear Tien's voice.

His face was even more distorted.

Tien... Chaozu... how was he to break the news to Chaozu?

Since the fight against Nappa, the big three-eyed fighter insisted that his lifelong partner remained far from the fights, dreading for the life of his friend who had telekinetic powers.

Never, he'd never be able to face the small round face and tell him the intolerable news.

Goku... Tien... NO!

No, they couldn't take Yamcha and Piccolo from him, not now!

Piccolo, the guarantor for the hope of revival!

If he were to die, all the other were lost for good... lost as Goku.

No sign of Vegeta... He would have wanted the Prince to come and get his revenge for his wounded pride! But no. Nothing... Nothing but the frozen silence of the three figures that were still as statues.

Since Goku's death, it was obvious that everything was going wrong.

Nothing was as before. At first, gloomy clouds had loomed on their lives, then those two young people had come from nowhere, killing, destroying everything in their path, acting as if they were going to some fair, with complete impunity and such a rare insolence.

And the group had been defeated again and again and again, all of their strategies had failed.

The golden light of Vegeta in Super Saiyan form had rekindled the fire of hope in his heart for it had brought back the memory of Son Goku's optimistic smile, for he had thought he had seen a glimpse of the happy ending of this bloody escapade.

A shred of hope that had soon been swept away, as had been the so pathetic haughtiness of the super saiyan against the strange energy of these two monsters.

Krilin opened his eyes to see them again. Them, those demons who looked so... normal, so ordinary, like two young people with a charming smile. His eyes lingered of impassive face of this pretty blond watching the slow death of the two fighters with complete indifference.

It was not possible! I couldn't be true that there were no heart behind this gracious face, those eyes the color of heaven, this curvy chest that stirred desire... It was almost despite himself that Krilin heard the wavering soung own his own voice.

“18... Please... I beg you.... Make him stop...”

The sound of this hardly audible petition, distorted by angst and pain, seemed to rouse the young woman away from a distant daydream. With a hint of surprise in the clear blue of her eyes, She looked at the broken figure of the warrior lying at her feet.

Her blue eyes, so brilliant, examined Krilin's face, on which big tears are rolling and falling on the ash, making a dark circle that was slowing widening.

She then turned her head to see her brother, perfectly still with a panting puppet in each of his hands.

The small bald man saw her slowly going toward the transfixed trio, and then, he heard her clear voice ringing, her tone so gentle.

“If you kill all of them today, won't we get bored a bit too soon?”

17 thought over what his sister had said for a little while, a look of surprise on his face, before abruptly loosening the vice of his merciless grip.

Without being able to react, 17's two victims collapsed at the same time. The young man held the position he had when he was slowly killing them.

He then rubbed his hands as if to brush away an invisible stain as he replied to his blond mate.

“You're right... One at a time... That is was we had decided!”

Krilin, dumbfounded, watched the two figures, who already were two little dots in the light of the setting sun. Then, with a voice he'd have liked to be stronger, as strong as the crazy hope that is driving him on, he called his friends.

“Pi... Piccolo... Yamcha... Please... answer me... Tell me that you are not dead...”

A long and noisy inspiration could be heard when the big green body suddenly stood up, at the same time that he put one of his hands on his throat streaked with deep purple marks.

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