Whether he cared to admit it or not, Juunanagou was supremely grateful for the sheer noisiness of Takira's attack, even if it wasn't quite effective. For an instant all other movement stopped; it gave Juunana time to wrest himself from Trunks' grasp. It also gave Trunks a new target.

"No closer!" Takira screeched, dragging Goten back toward Gohan. "Any closer and they both die." Trunks slammed to a halt, glaring and bristling. Juunanagou barely suppressed a sigh; another standoff. Oh, well. At least he had the vague amusement of seeing Lidivy female…or Takira male, depending on how you looked at it. Really, Juunana mused, either seemed equally likely…

"How long do you think you can postpone your death?" Trunks growled.

"Longer than you," Takira smirked—well, tried to smirk—flicking her tail teasingly at Trunks. "If you want them back you're going to have to make a deal for them."

"You lost all right to compromise, monster."

"On the contrary. I finally gained something of use to me. Your choice, boy…is my life worth more to you than both of theirs?"

Trunks ground his teeth. The bastard(bitch?)had a point, of course, but…the battle cry of justice that had once spurred Trunks to fight had twisted, warped, until revenge rang clear through his mind. No solution existed that didn't end in Lidivy's death…for harming Gohan, for nearly killing Goten, for daring to mock Trunks with that form…of course, Takira was already dead, had to be. No ki glimmered in that dark corridor she'd entered, no sound even as Kabu kicked and screamed in Cordec's grasp. No…she had to be dead. It didn't matter, damn it. Vengeance only for his friends…Takira smirked suddenly and Trunks heard too late the soft whistle of Juunanagou's fist cutting the air.

* * * * *

'Keep him alive a while longer.'

Juunanagou gritted his teeth and tightened his chokehold on the inert Trunks. 'Why?' he asked acidly. Damned bitch was getting crazier by the moment…why keep the only one she couldn't kill?

'He is connected to Moreviv. I can use him.'

The Jinzouningen thumped Trunks in the kidney once, just for being a bother. Juunana knew nothing of Moreviv or what the hell any of it had to do with Trunks and Takira, but the farther this went, the less he cared. Just get it the hell over with…

Trunks groaned and stirred, struggling in earnest as he realized he was being held. With slitted eyes he searched the room quickly: Goten, unconscious, still barely alive, Gohan…getting up?! Struggling to his feet, even, though obviously in pain; perhaps yon sadistic cyborg was feeling lenient?

"Let…go," Trunks hissed, thrashing with what limited motion Juunana had left him. Juunanagou heaved an indulgent sigh, relaxed his grip—and cracked his knee into Trunks' lower back as the half-Saiyajin tried to move.

"Look," he snapped, yanking Trunks up by the back of his collar. "I'm not enjoying this much more than you are so how about making it easier on us both, hmm? Stand up straight: you're about to meet the loopy psycho behind this whole mess." He grinned, fighting not to wince as he received a stern rejoinder from his employer that such titles were not permitted.

"So it's not you," Trunks rasped, bracing his legs under him.

"You thought this was all my idea?" Juunana snorted.

"Where's Takira?"

"Which one?" the android smirked.

"Either." Nothing bearing resemblance seemed present; Gohan, now standing on rubbery legs, had no guard.

"Just stepped out for a moment," Takira murmured from behind them, slapping Trunks not-quite-lightly upside the head, blurring his vision. "You missed me so much?" Her tail dangled loosely behind her; Saiyajin never carried their tails that way. Trunks wanted to tear it off.

Gohan staggered and coughed, arms out to the sides, fingers splayed for balance. He stiffened as he saw Trunks, but didn't look truly incensed until he caught sight of his brother…and Takira.

"YOU!" he bellowed hoarsely. "I knew I should have killed you!"

"Not the same one," Trunks sighed, knowing Gohan wasn't listening. Gohan took a shaky step forward and flinched.

"Take him," Juunanagou ordered, glancing at Takira.

"You take him," she hedged. "He's yours to control, anyhow."

"Gods, you're pathetic. The two of you deserve each other. Fine, weakling. Keep the pastel wonderboy out of trouble." Shoving Trunks at Takira, Juunana stalked over and grabbed Gohan by the hair.

Trunks' struggles came to an abrupt halt as a female, too-familiar body pressed against his, pinning him and batting him in the cheek with a furry tail. It suddenly occurred to Trunks that this being was now in possession of all Takira's memories, including that time when—Trunks snarled, flushed, and tried to bite the tail; Takira laughed and jerked it away.

"If you two idiots are quite done flirting," Juunanagou spat, shoving Gohan to his knees, "can we get on with this?"

"Watch the kid," Takira muttered, flicking her tail at a slowly retreating Cordec, Kabu in hand.

Kabu growled. Cordec glanced at him, at Juunanagou…and bolted, evidently placing faith in some force not yet apparent. Azher's flying tackle coincided with Juunanagou's blast; in an instant, Azher and Kabu were flung to opposite ends of the room. Cordec-once-Deoge was an untidy heap of ash.

"Problem solved," Juunana smirked, then just as abruptly doubled over breathlessly, eyes wide. A woman's voice, low and infinitely cold, reflected hollowly off the cracked walls.

"I will not tolerate disobedience!" As the echoes died, their source separated herself from the stone shadows, slowly, elegant, and highly displeased. Trunks gaped and Gohan twisted in Juunanagou's failing grip to see.

A Changeling. A female Changeling.

She made her way regally toward the throne; it seemed a wonder she could move at all. Wasted muscles stretched stringy over her skeletal frame; her shoulders and hips seemed to protrude unnaturally from her shrunken body. Her coloring was that of Freiza in his final form: purple on silver; but her eyes, rather than black, reflected a dim pale gold, like the core of a yellow sun stared at too long. Calmly, she seated herself, thin tail draped over the arm of the throne, and took them all in at a glance. When he could no longer stand it, Trunks broke the silence.

"Who are you?" Dead pale eyes gave him a look fit to lay his soul bare; Trunks shuddered and dropped his gaze.

"I am your salvation, boy," she said smoothly, unaffected by his reaction, and only mildly amused by the fact that Gohan was still staring.

"You…" he whispered, then cleared his throat, struggling to stand straighter. "You're the one he left behind." She nodded, and Trunks blinked at Gohan, surprised.

"Gohan, how did you—"

"The files. Mordrig's files. She was…" Gohan paused and shook his head. "She…he left her. For Proteas."

"No," she murmured. "For Denatu."

* * * * *

Gohan was becoming aware of several things at once, elements both factual and physical. His body was registering a wide variety of sensations, not the least of which were a pounding headache and quivering limbs. These were less important than the stream of thought winding and swirling through his clouded mind. Proteas…Denatu…the Changeling was watching him patiently.

"You know something, halfbreed," she commented. "Share what you know. I will tell you where you err." Gohan winced and shifted on his feet, pulling himself closer to upright.

"I though the Changelings were dead," he said finally.

"Changelings," she hissed softly. "My race are no Changelings. That fool Zarbon was a Changeling. I am Retsujin!" she paused. "…and yes. My people are dead; it was necessary. They were unneeded distraction."

"You are Freiza's…"

"Daughter," she said dismissively. "Do not fixate, Saiyan. My duty to you stems from your father, not your forefathers. You are the one called Goku's son, are you not?"

A shiver wracked Gohan's body before he could answer. "Yes."

"As is the young one," she murmured. "And then the enigma," turning to Trunks. "Vegeta's spawn. Why am I not surprised that you are the troublesome one…tell me, child, how do you come to know Moreviv?"

"Who?"

"He doesn't know, bitch," Juunanagou spat, glaring. "It wasn't him."

"I am aware of that. I was curious to know how closely he was linked."

"Waste of time," the cyborg muttered; he was feeling worse by the moment.

"Yes, you are," she said mildly. "You have outlived your usefulness, synthetic. I hereby release you from my employ; which, of course…" A cool smile twisted her face. "…means I have no compelling reason to exert my powers on your behalf." Juunanagou stared, disbelieving, as she shut her eyes and removed the barrier he'd felt—and depended upon—since his first tentative experiments with mind control.

Clamping his jaw on a strangled shriek, the android collapsed, hands knotted in his hair; Gohan became aware of yet another sensation.

Freedom.