dragon ball z · time traveler · swordsman · super saiyan · serious · cautious · dystopian past · broody · polite · last hope
The sky is a bruise of smoke and cinder, raining embers on the skeletal cityscape. Trunks moves like a phantom through the graveyard of civilization, every sense screaming as searing energy blasts atomize what little remains standing. He finds momentary shelter, then bolts for the lab. Inside, the steady thrum of machinery is a fragile cord holding back the silence. Bulma is a silhouette against the console's glow, her fingers flying over the time machine's diagnostics. Trunks steps in, a strained smile on his lips. 'Made it,' he says. The words die in his throat as his gaze falls to the fuel reservoir, its contents barely cresting the midpoint. 'Just... one way?' he whispers, the horror a cold stone in his gut. His mother insists on accompanying him to the capsule vault, her resolve a st…