Trunks fell silent at her words, his eyes still fixed on the television as her voice echoed in his mind.
'Superheroes? The strongest group… dead?'
The concept itself felt strange, almost foreign, yet not entirely unbelievable. In his world, people like Goku and the others might as well have been called heroes too, beings who stood against overwhelming threats and protected what remained. Still, it felt off to him.
But he didn't dwell on it.
Whether this was his future, another timeline, or something else entirely, one thing was certain, if the strongest protectors in this world had been wiped out overnight, then this place wasn't safe either.
"I gotta go tell jessica, be right back, cutie!"
The girl's voice snapped him out of his thoughts as she rushed out the door, her footsteps quick and uneven before the sound of a car engine roared to life outside.
"…Alright."
Trunks exhaled quietly, running a hand through his hair as he turned his attention back to the TV. Right now, he knew almost nothing, no sense of location, no understanding of the timeline he had landed in, no allies, no direction. He was practically blind, and the only way forward was to gather whatever information he could.
The news continued to loop, repeating the same fragments over and over.
>>"Breaking news—Guardians of the Globe found dead—Omni-Man heavily injured—unknown attacker—no signs of forced entry—investigation ongoing—"
"…It's all the same thing," Trunks muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in. "I should've asked her more instead of just focusing on the time machine…"
His gaze drifted briefly toward the door.
"…I'll ask later."
For now, there was something more important.
"…Right, I should store what's left."
He stepped outside again, kneeling beside the wreckage as he began collecting whatever fragments still looked remotely usable. Most of it was scrap, twisted metal and burnt circuitry, but he forced himself to work carefully, separating pieces that might still hold value. His mother had taught him enough about the machine.
'If I can find someone intelligent enough… maybe…'
It wasn't a plan.
Just a possibility.
But it was better than nothing.
After gathering what he could, he stood and headed back inside, intending to organize everything properly, when something caught his attention in the living room.
A computer still on.
A video paused mid-play, some unfamiliar interface displayed across the screen.
For a moment, he hesitated.
It felt wrong to breach someone's privacy.. but..
'I need information.'
He stepped closer. The interface was different from what he was used to, but not incomprehensible. After a few seconds, he managed to navigate away from the video and open a search page.
"…Alright…"
His fingers hovered briefly over the keyboard before he started typing.
Capsule Corp.
Nothing.
No mention of the name at all.
"…It doesn't exist?"
His brows furrowed.
'That's… not right.'
Capsule Corp wasn't just some small business, it was one of the most influential companies in the world, even in his timeline. Their technology, their capsules, their innovations… there was no way something that massive would simply disappear, even across centuries.
Unless—
"…This isn't my..."
The thought settled heavily in his mind.
To be sure, he typed again.
Androids.
Search.
This time, results flooded the screen instantly, but none of them were what he expected.
Phones.
Artificial assistants.
Consumer technology.
Not a single mention of the Androids he knew.
"…I see…"
His expression darkened slightly.
One last test.
Year 783.
Search.
He scrolled.
And scrolled.
And scrolled.
Nothing matched, the future he lives in, it was gone, instead showing articles of old civilization.
No history that even remotely resembled his world.
The silence in the room felt heavier now.
"…So that's how it is…"
His hand slowly dropped to his side.
"I'm not in another timeline…"
A pause.
"…This isn't even my world."
He let out a hollow breath, his shoulders lowering slightly as the reality finally settled in.
"…Crap baskets."
---
"Sir, you might want to see this."
Donald Ferguson's voice cut through the room as he approached, tablet in hand, his usual composed tone carrying a hint of urgency as he turned it toward Cecil Stedman, director of the GDA.
Cecil didn't look up immediately, his expression already tense as he took the device and scanned the data, his eye narrowing slightly.
"…And when did we pick up this energy spike?" he asked, voice low, controlled.
"Five minutes ago, sir. We ran multiple confirmations just to be sure, it's not anything we've seen before. The readings are… unusual. It's a unique energy signature, and from what our analysts can tell, it appears to be directly entangled with temporal distortion, we suspect the actual spike to be to be around the time of the Guardian's death."
Cecil's jaw tightened slightly.
"…Jesus."
He glanced back at the data again, his mind already running through possibilities, none of them good.
"Alright, lock down the area and—"
"—Wait!"
Another voice cut in.
A teenager stood up abruptly from across the room, his expression tense, eyes filled with urgency.
Mark Grayson.
"You said the spike happened around the same time as the Guardians, right? That can't be a coincidence. That has to be connected to whoever attacked them!"
Donald exchanged a brief glance with Cecil before answering.
"It's possible, kid. The distance between the two locations is significant, but right now, it's the only lead we have."
Before anything else could be said—
"Sir! Another report just came in!"
A different agent rushed forward.
"There's an ongoing attack downtown. Unknown group, multiple casualties reported."
Cecil didn't hesitate.
"…Serious now?"
He turned sharply.
"We're already short-handed… damn it. Donald, you're with me."
"Yes, sir."
The two moved quickly, leaving the room without another word, the tension following them out like a shadow.
Mark remained where he stood.
His gaze slowly shifted toward the hospital bed across the room.
Omni-Man lay there, unmoving, his condition stable but far from recovered. Machines hummed softly around him, monitoring every breath, every heartbeat.
Mark stepped closer, reaching out and gripping his father's hand.
"…What should I do…?"
"The person who did this… they're still out there…"
His grip tightened slightly.
"I should go after them… I should stop them…"
But then he remembered, the attack downtown and people in danger.
"…But what about them…?"
His thoughts clashed, pulling him in two directions at once, neither one easy, neither one wrong.
He wanted to prove himself.
To show he could do this.
To make his dad proud.
"…I'll help them first."
"…Then I'll find whoever did this."
He let go of his father's hand, and used his superspeed to leave.
'Wait.. I don't even know where Ohio is…'
---
"Mark? What are you—"
Debbie Grayson turned, only to find the room already empty, the door still slightly ajar from where he had just left.
She sighed quietly, her shoulders dropping just a bit as she looked back at Nolan.
"…You're going to be in serious trouble."
Carefully, she sat back down beside him, adjusting the blanket slightly as her hand rested gently over his.
---
"Alright… this should be good enough…" Trunks muttered to himself as he carefully set down the last salvaged component, his hands moving slower now, more deliberate, as if even the smallest mistake would cost him what little progress he had managed to make.
He had already decided to completely abandon the outer shell of the time machine since it was the easiest part to replace, but the internal systems were another story entirely, most of them had been destroyed beyond repair, circuits melted, connectors blown apart, and whatever remained was barely functional, yet despite that he still managed to recover a few critical components, not many, but enough that he could carry everything in one hand.
It wasn't much, But it was something.
The good news was that he still remembered the blueprints.
His mother, Bulma. had drilled it into him over and over again, and now that knowledge was the only thing keeping this from being completely hopeless, so after finishing up what little recovery he could do, he immediately moved on to drawing, sketching out the design on paper he had borrowed earlier, writing down parts, connections, possible substitutes, anything that could help him rebuild it from scratch if needed.
'Now that I think about it… I should probably apologize for using her computer…. Damn I don't even know her name.'
He then remembered about the girl who lets him stay in her house.
The thought came out of nowhere, slipping into his mind as his pencil paused mid-motion.
'I've been so stressed I didn't even think about it…'
It was rude for him.
"…Tch."
He shook his head lightly, brushing the thought aside for now as he continued sketching, focusing again on the task at hand.
Unbeknownst to him—
He wasn't alone.
Just outside the garage, hovering silently in the air, an invisible drone observed his every movement, its lens fixed directly on him, transmitting everything back in real time.
And it wasn't the only one.
Multiple drones had already surrounded the area, positioned carefully at different angles, watching, waiting.
Far away, inside the GDA headquarters, Cecil Stedman stood with his arms crossed, eyes locked onto the screen displaying Trunks' image, his expression unreadable as he monitored every subtle movement.
[Sir, what are your orders?]
"Hold your position and don't engage," Cecil replied without hesitation, his voice calm but firm. "If he really is the one responsible for killing the Guardians, then rushing in would be suicide. Stay alert… and if possible, wait for invincible to arrive."
[Understood, sir.]
The line cut.
Cecil exhaled quietly before turning slightly.
"Donald, where's the kid?"
"He should be close, sir," Donald Ferguson answered, adjusting his glasses slightly. "He's still shaken from the invasion earlier, but when we told him about this, he suited up immediately and agreed to help."
"Good," Cecil muttered. "We can't afford to take chances here."
Donald hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
"Sir… is it really wise to send him in? He's still just a kid, and after what he went through—"
Cecil cut him off.
"If we want even a chance at dealing with someone who might have taken down the Guardians, then the son of Omni-Man is our best option," his tone hardened slightly. "I don't like it either, Donald, but right now, that man on the screen is our only lead… and I highly doubt he's a pushover."
"…Understood, sir."
Back in the suburbs, the atmosphere had shifted.
The streets were quiet.
Trunks stood still for a moment, his senses extending outward, scanning everything around him, and what he felt immediately put him on edge.
There were still people.
But they weren't where they should be.
Most of them were gone from their homes, their presence moving, shifting… slowly closing in.
Encircling him infact.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
'…An ambush?'
Individually, they weren't strong, not even close, but compared to the civilians he had sensed earlier, the difference was obvious, these weren't ordinary people, not even remotely.
And then—
Something else, Above him, A presence far stronger than anything he'd sense from the city
Not enough to threaten him directly, but compared to everything else in this city, it stood out like a beacon, overwhelming everything around it.
And it was flying right above him.
'…They're hiding it.'
His stance shifted slightly, muscles tensing as his guard went up.
'Either they're suppressing their energy to trick me… or they're just bad at hiding it.'
Either way,
He wasn't taking chances.
Far away, back at the GDA—
"Sir, he's reacting," Donald said, watching the sudden shift in Trunks' posture. "Should we move in?"
"Not yet," Cecil replied immediately, eyes still locked on the screen. "If he's aware of us, then we don't want to escalate things too quickly. Relocate units, tighten the perimeter, and let's see how he responds."
On screen, Trunks suddenly stopped what he was doing.
Then stood up.
And began walking.
"Wait… where is he going?" Donald muttered.
Outside, Mark Grayson in his invincible suit hovered high above, eyes fixed on the small tablet in his hand showing the live feed.
"…Shit," he muttered under his breath.
[Mark, stay ready to intervene at any moment,] Cecil's voice came through the comms, calm but sharp. [If he's stronger than you, do not engage. I repeat, do not fight. Focus on escaping at all costs.]
"…Yeah… got it," Mark replied, exhaling slowly as he lightly slapped his cheeks. "Don't freak out, Mark… you literally just dealt with an alien invasion an hour ago… what's one guy…"
A pause.
"…Right, the guy who might've killed the Guardians… and defeated my dad…"
His grip tightened slightly around the tablet.
"…Yeah. No pressure."
Back on the ground, Trunks kept walking.
Then suddenly, He stopped.
[—Shit!] Cecil's voice snapped through the comms.
In an instant, Trunks turned.
And moved.
Faster than anyone watching could properly process his hand shot out and grabbed one of the cloaked agents by the neck, lifting him off the ground as the invisibility flickered under the sudden force.
"Who are you?" Trunks demanded, his voice sharp, cold. "And what are you doing sneaking around here?"
The feed shook slightly as the agent struggled.
[Mark!] Cecil barked.
"HAA—!"
Mark didn't hesitate.
He shot downward, crashing straight through the roof with full force, fist pulled back and aimed directly at Trunks.
But—
Trunks moved effortlessly.
He sidestepped at the last second, vanishing from the spot just as Mark's punch connected with the ground, the impact collapsing part of the house instantly.
The entire structure gave in destroyed by Mark's punch
Trunks reappeared outside in the next moment, landing lightly as he released the agent, letting him drop to the ground.
His expression hardened.
"You bastard!" he shouted, anger finally breaking through. "Why did you do that?!"
"HAAA! Shut it, you murderer!" Mark Grayson screamed at the top of his lungs, ripping his hands out of the shattered ground as he launched himself forward again, his body cutting through the air with raw force and zero hesitation, his fist aimed straight at Trunks' face.
Trunks didn't flinch.
He raised his arm and caught the punch cleanly, their clash sending a sharp shockwave bursting outward, dust and debris lifting off the ground as the air itself seemed to ripple around them, nearby agents immediately taking that as their cue as they opened fire, thin beams of energy slicing toward him before they vanished from sight once more, cloaking themselves again the moment they fired.
Without wasting time, Trunks shoved Mark backward, sending him skidding toward the already-damaged house while he himself shifted position, his body moving fluidly as he dodged the incoming laser fire, then pushed off the ground and shot upward, narrowly avoiding a stray explosive that whistled past him—
BOOM!
The blast lit up the area in fire and crackling electricity, the shock rattling the remains of the house as Trunks hovered above, his expression tightening as he glanced down at the destruction.
"…ah crap… how am I even going to explain this to her…?"
Before he could think further, a metallic net shot toward him at high speed, forcing him to pull back mid-air to avoid being caught, but that brief movement created an opening.
Mark was already there.
He surged forward, fist drawn back, aiming to slam it straight into Trunks' face, but Trunks reacted instantly, grabbing his arm mid-swing and stopping him completely.
"I'm not a murderer," Trunks said firmly, his grip tightening just enough to keep Mark from breaking free, "and how about you explain why you tried to ambush me in the first place?"
"Liar!" Mark snapped, struggling against the hold but getting nowhere. "Then why did an energy spike show up here at the exact same time the Guardians died?!"
Trunks paused.
'…Energy spike…?'
His eyes narrowed slightly.
'…The time machine.'
"…My time machine?" trunks questioned.
"Time machine?"
[Time machine?]
Mark and Cecil Stedman spoke at the exact same time, one out loud, the other through comms, both locking onto the word immediately.
[Mark, ask him more about that. We need details.]
Mark swallowed lightly, still tense but now visibly unsure.
"Your… time machine," he started, his tone shifting, less aggressive now, more cautious. "Where is it? And… how does it even work?"
Trunks exhaled slightly, though his grip didn't loosen.
"When I arrived here, it malfunctioned and exploded, I managed to salvage some parts, but most of it was destroyed, and then your ambush didn't exactly help," he added bluntly, glancing briefly at the wreckage around them, "if you need proof, you can ask the owner of this house."
Back at the GDA, Cecil immediately turned.
"Donald."
"Already on it, sir."
The room shifted into motion, agents moving quickly as data began pulling up across multiple screens.
"Alice Robertson, registered owner of the property," one of the analysts reported, stepping aside as the file populated in full.
"Contact her immediately," Cecil ordered without hesitation. "And prepare compensation for the damages."
Back in Dayton, Ohio—
[Mark, do not engage further. Confirm his story and bring him in.]
"…Cecil? Yeah… alright."
Mark exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked back at Trunks.
"So… why are you here?"
Trunks' expression darkened slightly.
"I'm not supposed to be here," he said, his voice quieter now, heavier. "This isn't even my world, I'm sure of it. I went back in time to save my timeline, but when I returned, the machine malfunctioned and somehow sent me here instead."
Mark widened his eye in surprise.
"Wait… you said another world, so this isn't your—"
"No," Trunks cut in, shaking his head slightly. "It isn't. I don't know how it happened, maybe it's a different timeline, maybe something else entirely, but either way… everything I know is gone."
His grip loosened slightly.
"…And I need to get back."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—
[Mark, he's telling the truth. We've confirmed with Alice, his story checks out. Disengage and bring him in.]
Mark nodded slowly.
"…Alright."
He looked back at Trunks, this time without hostility.
"Look… I'm— I'm really sorry, man. I didn't know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he glanced away for a second. "How about you come with us? The GDA has some of the smartest people on the planet, if anyone can help fix your time machine, it's them."
Trunks hesitated for a brief moment before nodding.
"…That would help."
Then he pointed toward the remains of the house.
"…But you're going to explain that first."
Mark followed his gaze.
"…Oh."
"Yeah," he winced slightly. "I'm sure the GDA will cover it… right, Cecil?"
[Of course we will, Mark. Though next time, try aiming for the enemy instead of the property.]
"…Right. Noted."
Mark scratched his cheek awkwardly before looking back at Trunks.
"So… we good?"
Trunks gave a small nod.
"…Yeah."
---
A/N: update rate will be 1-2 chapters a day.
Btw happy eid Mubarak to all my Muslims out there, I know it's not eid yet the current time I'm writing but still, happy eid Mubarak y'all.