"Dad!" Trunks' pained voice shouted out to the effigy of his father. It was a face Trunks hadn't seen outside of pictures for over ten years. Seeing his father before him, poised to destroy the city they had once called home together. It was difficult for the young man to wrap his head around.

No, he didn't want to think about it. The last he'd heard of his father before the man had sacrificed himself in a vain attempt to stop Majin Bū, was his slaughter of innocent civilians alongside Piccolo at the Tenkaichi Budōkai. And then, right before his father had died, the man had knocked him unconscious, and Trunks had never seen Vegeta again.

"Trunks...you've made me happy...and...proud...to be your father. Never forget this, son. Farewell."

Those were the final words Trunks had heard from his father...and his mother hadn't even received that much. So to see Vegeta here, now — even knowing that this man was a fake — struck Trunks to his core. This was not something his mother should see; it wasn't something that should even be happening. And yet it was, and Trunks had to bear witness to it.

"Dad, stop this at once!" Trunks shouted again. His voice finally caught Vegeta's attention, and the Princely effigy turned to face him. The cloned Saiyan lowered himself to ground level, his face, which had been empty, contorted into a smirk: the Saiyan recognition of a strong opponent. This particular duplicate almost seemed to have its own will, ignoring the order pounding in its head. Instead, it wanted to fight Trunks, the strongest thing currently in the city.

The Clone-Vegeta bent at his knees, raising a hand in front of his face, pulling back two fingers while the index, middle, and thumb flexed in claw-like motion. His right arm came to rest at his side, fist clenched tight. The archetypal combat stance of a Saiyan warrior of both good breeding and superior training. Trunks recognised it instinctively: it was a stance he used, and how often had he seen his father take the stance during their training sessions, when the man had wished to instill his methods into him?

"I-I don't want to fight you, Dad!" Trunks insisted, taking a step back. Vegeta challenging him to battle, Trunks felt as helpless as a child again. His early training sessions with his father had been disastrous — and Bulma had given Vegeta quite an earful — but Trunks had stepped up to the plate and found training with Vegeta to be enjoyable. It was their quality time, father and son. But to fight him like this? When he was still couldn't truthfully accept that Vegeta had passed?

Was I all talk when I fought Mifune? Trunks wondered. Am I really not over Dad's passing yet? Have I not truly been able to accept who Dad was as a person? I'm better than this...!

Trunks had no time for internal monologue. To Clone-Vegeta, the young man's considerations meant absolutely nothing. Clone-Vegeta broke into a run, barreling down on Trunks with surprising speed. The living Saiyan Prince couldn't remember his father being this fast or agile before in life; perhaps because he was stronger than the late Vegeta had been when he died, Trunks' memories of his father made the man seem weaker than he had been. Trunks raised his hand to catch the blow, gloved hand colliding with gloved hand.

The lavender haired man held back tense knuckles, grinding hard into his palm and shoving his body through the force of his own. A chill ran down his spine as the blank eyes of his faux-father stared past his own, and a hint of a malicious grin was shown on his face. The knuckles stopped pressing, for a moment, before unfolding fingers to grip around his own—

—yanking him forward to crash his gut straight into a rising knee.

"HAULK!" Trunks gagged out, eyes bulging and spit spewing from his mouth. The pain that walloped him was incredible, radiating outwards just as the air parted around his form, right before a follow-up punch struck him across the jaw to send him careening backwards across the valley surrounding the capital city. Gritting his teeth he swung out his hands, halting his backwards momentum with a body-centered kiai.

His eyes traced back to where the clone of his father presided, and instead of him being at the point where he was punched from; he was now perpendicularly above him, hoisting a kikōha over his torch-shaped mane to crash straight into his face.

"No you don't!" The amethyst-tressed half Saiyan snarled out, sweeping a hand to deflect the thrusting orb of light to veer away and explode in the distance. In the light of the combustion one received a brief orange outline of their arms parrying one another, legs twisting about and snapping, each one pushing against one another yet not gaining any ground within the low altitude above earth soil.

In the distance behind the shell of light that protected the Western Capital they could see shimmering images, as if like ghosts, vanishing and reappearing just as quickly. A child could make out the sight of a halo of light engulfed around each warrior; one a resolute light blue and the other a shimmering cobalt. While none of the Earthlings could make out who was their champion and who was their enemy, anyone who could make out behind the ki reflecting energy held their breath as the tense combat continued to scale upwards.

A break from the standoff transpired when the clone let out a familiar howl from his throat, ejecting enough force that it threw Trunks off of him and brought him into a daze. His mind shifted back into the past, memories brought up of the man who had raised and trained him. And if the effigy of his father wasn't a mockery enough, the aura transmuted into a rich golden hue, with his black mane transforming into sharp flecks of magnificent Sun-licked locks while his blank, black eyes turned into a vibrant emerald.

"Figures he could go Super Saiyan if my father could," The young man grunted, his eyes stinging from the cold sweat that was beginning to bead off his brow. In between his blinks he felt his jaw drop as he aimed palm with a thumb curled around it — a stance that aimed to damn the people of the Western Capital.

"FATHER! DON'T DO IT!" He yelled out, swinging his own palm out, his mind racing as he tried to reason with this being that obtained his parent's features. "Fight me instead! Don't bring anyone else into it!"

Then he saw it. What he didn't see all those years ago. A glint of sadistic malice that only seemed to be enhanced when he looked back into the soulless orbs that stared back at him almost knowingly.

This was evil, and the cruel nature of it was only made more apparent as a sudden shrieking sphere of bluish-white light jettisoned from his palm straight towards the Western Capital.

As the citizens of the Western Capital watched on in horror, a small meteorite of light streaking towards them with intent of annihilation they saw another golden form stretch out to outrace it. At the last possible instant came a loud thuum followed by a tensile crack. Air split, lightning forked out, and the dangerous bomb of energy was sent throttling straight into the sky, escaping into orbit before it detonated with an almost blinding luminescence of white over their heads.

Trunks exhaled with a shuddering sense of momentary respite. Now embalmed in the gentle warmth of his mastered Super Saiyan form, the lavender hair traded out for a crown of arched golden spikes and blue eyes turned green. Glaring out he felt anger at what was being done to the legacy of his father; one that burned bright enough to shift into an outraged roar carried from his gut and tearing out of his throat —

— one that let loose as he tore across the battlefield straight towards the sinister grinning copy of his parent.

Crashing his gloved fist into Vegeta's, the air split in an elliptical colored shockwave of yellow light. To the surprise of the clone a sudden plume of violet light discharged from the half Saiyan's elbow, shooting outwards behind him in massive gait like that of a geyser. The thrust was increased, pushing past his own guard until its own hand and Trunks' violently slammed straight into the clone's jaw with a sickening crunch.

"You're not him!" He yelled out, bringing his other arm to swing another vicious hook across the clone's twisted face. "My father didn't use dirty tricks!"

Swinging his foot behind him, he thrust his boot out, slamming it straight through the copy's barely protected chest; priming another Garlic Cannon from the sole of his boot that stretched imitation's torso till the outline of his foot was visible.

"YOU'RE NOT VEGETA!" Trunks howled, unleashing a potent beam of light that encompassed his target's whole body before throttling him across the sky and straight into the base of a mountain with a flashing blast of virulent violet light.

Powered through sheer fury the son of the Prince yelled out, igniting kikōha in either hand and began to throttle them repeatedly at the fiery site of where he last saw the mockery visage of his beloved parent. Each one pounded the ground harder than the last, a cacophony of thunderous strikes that shattered the proximate peaks, enveloping the land in fire and brimstone before they too were blown away by the sheer shockwaves of each kinetic bombardment.

Amidst his rage, he suddenly felt a pain from his back, his body bowing and his eyes bulging wide as he felt himself careen down into the superheated crater of his own making. Slamming into the molten earth with a rattling whack, he felt his head spin, disoriented by the throbbing of his spine. Wincing up as he pushed himself up by all fours, eyes staring through a haze of heat at the body that should've been lying prone —

— was now all but a shimmering Afterimage that was left in its stead.

"N-No-!" He choked out, looking up over his shoulder at the Sun-cast silhouette of his parent's clone, staring down at him from up on high. "I had him! Why didn't he stay down?!"

A sudden, elastic snake shot out from the once normally proportioned arm of the Saiyan prince's copy. So shocked by the sight of it, the golden mane of Trunks was snatched up by gloved fingers and hauled up against his will. Whipping around he'd feel himself slap against the ground, over and over, each time bringing out a pained and angry gasp to grunt.

It ended after the twelfth, his body spiraling up with the retracting limb in the event of a well-timed palm heel straight into his face; crushing his nose outright.

"Gah!" The son of the Prince gasped aloud, his eyes watering and the shock of pain spasmed across his face. In that moment of disorientation he barely caught a glance of the hole that he had assuredly left in the replicant's shirt through the torso; completely healed, dripping freshly of familiar healing residue.

H-He has Piccolo's healing powers...and elastic arms?! He barely thought as a fresh storm of punches thrashed his face, each one a biting flame that brought out blood and spit from his mouth. Raising his arms up, his thoughts were scrambled by fear, pain, anger and anguish. Sustaining the wall of blows from the clone he knew if the clone had the ability to laugh, it would have. Instead it sustained an evil smile all while attacking him repeatedly without an ounce of pity or remorse.

A final punch threw Trunks backwards, sailing across the sky straight towards the barrier of the town. He felt his back get rebounded, his body feeling like it was struck by an iron trampoline. This feeling intensified when Vegeta's boot flew into his gut, crashing into the energy field and ground his body against its repulsive surface. People screamed below, the sound heard beyond the grinding crackle of his body warping the surface as the nemesis above attempted to use his own body as a human battering ram.

A shaky glove reached out, clawing at the prince's mirror image before flattening into a knife-hand. A chaotic buzzsaw of light formed from his wrist outward and — with a hand clutching the heel of the offending foot that ground into his chest — slashed it bloodily over the calf just below the knee of the Saiyan duplicate. The pain, while ignored, had registered enough damage that the Saiyan copy recoiled and flew backwards, witnessing the half-Saiyan breathe heavily as smoke billowed from the back of his scorched battle jacket along his spine.

Tossing the disembodied limb aside, he looked up, tears forming in his eyes as he couldn't shake this feeling he was doing something awful. He wanted to push it aside, bury it in rage, but that only made the grief all the more unbearable.

He still saw too much of his father in this monster.

Seeing him not follow-up the attack, the creature grinned, tensing up and veins throbbing around the knee as he ejected a freshly new foot, now bereft of a boot and part of the pants sleeve that once encompassed it.

Biting his lip, he felt a well of energy surge outward. Even though he felt torn of the issue, he had no choice but to throw more power at this fiend.

"Father, I can't allow this to continue," He quietly spoke, balling his fingers deeply into his glove covered palms as he tensed up in the middle of the air; then swung his arms outward as his ki shrieked anew, now enamored with streaks of lightning, his hair standing more upright and less of a crown — the common traits of a Super Saiyan that has ascended beyond its limits.

With tears spilling from his eyes, Super Saiyan 2 croaked out as he yelled in charging up energy into an epicenter wedged between two palms clasped in front of him, forming a swirling pyre of violet-golden light, "I'm sorry...but this is the only thing I can do now! GARLIC FLASH!"

Firing of a howling vortex of amethyst-yellow, he saw the outline of his parent blink out of the way, a hair out of line and warped behind him. Still firing it, he looked behind himself in time to see gloved fingers lower from a forehead and, now coated in a crackling surge of energy around his forefingers. Disengaging his technique, he bent out of the way, watching a spiraling beam nearly pierce his head but graze his cheek in the process; exploding a line of hills in the horizon in a rising wall of fire.

Recognizing the move as a combination of Gokū's Instantaneous Movement and Piccolo's Makankōsappō, the more moves that weren't used by Vegeta in conjunction stunned him. Was he really facing a faux representation of his father, or was this Cell wearing Vegeta's face? Trapped in his own shock, he'd suddenly felt himself trapped in a barrier of light, formed out of the palm of Vegeta's free hand. He hadn't seen Freeza's Capturing Light Shell before, but he knew this wasn't a move atypical of his father. Without skipping a beat, he saw beyond the coral-lit field that paralyzed his movement the Prince's aura ignite into that of the same state he garnered.

The Clone revealed a wry smile, right before he'd feel himself slammed by a vicious right hook of his parent's copy, followed up by a teleporting kick to his spine. Extra strokes of hits bounced him around like in the game of ping pong, though he could feel the unstable energies warping around him. If he landed wrongly, he knew he would be in a world of hurt when it detonated against the nearest thing not the clone.

"Father! Please! Stop this!" He screamed, each word shouting past the pain and disorientation. "I don't want to see you die! Not again!"

The last point he caught sight of Vegeta he'd feel a boot slam straight across his face, curling the bubble around him and throttling him straight into the Western City barrier. The effort nearly pierced the field, distending it like elastic rubber as he'd dip towards the frightened crowd. Then, at the last second, rebound with a loud crack and careen towards an untouched spot of land within the fields beyond the capital, crashing with a dome of pyrotechnic energy.

There, with a scorched battle jacket and torn pants, lied Trunks. He had managed to raise his energy enough that it mitigated the damage, but he didn't leave the fire of the blast unscathed. Grimacing, he pushed himself upright, his eyes stinging with tears and his body feeling nothing but pain and agony. Looking over to the form of his father, he'd see a smug grin formed across his face — the only expression he recognized of his father's clone since they began fighting.

Is this it? Is this all I'm worth after all this time? He thought, looking down while closing his eyes. Father. I know this isn't you...and yet...

The faux Saiyan prince was ready to make his final move. If Trunks would not continue to fight, then he would simply kill the boy and he done with it. Clone-Vegeta's body tensed, muscles preparing to close in for the kill—

—Vegeta's body was lifted off the ground at the exact moment a foot, clad in a burning aura, crashed into his jaw. Trunks gaped, seeing hi father's form fly into the distance, and yet this was the least surprising thing. Standing before him was his best friend, emitting the fiery aura of the Super Saiyan God. Goten, thinned by godly ki, with a face even gentler than normal — which was saying something, considering Goten always had a kind face — glared at Trunks with a mixture of frustration and understanding.

"G-Goten...I didn't sense you coming." Trunks said stupidly.

"Of course you didn't," replied Goten as if it was obvious. "But what are you doing, messing around here?! You're stronger than that fake, you know you are!"

"I...I know..." Trunks groaned. "I just can't get my head on right, Goten. I thought I was over this...but seeing Dad right here...even if I know he's fake. I can't focus on the battle at all!"

"Trunks..." Goten sighed. He'd thought Trunks had adjusted to this, yet he was proven clearly wrong. "Was what Shénlóng told you all those years ago not enough? I'd hoped you would have had more faith in Vegeta...!" Goten ran his hand through his crimson-hair. "Trunks...I don't know if this will help you...but right before Vegeta sacrificed himself to try and kill Majin Bū—"

"—when he knocked me unconscious," Trunks interrupted and Goten nodded.

"Yeah, when he knocked you out, do you know what he told me? He told me to get you to safety. When Vegeta made his last stand, he trusted me to keep you safe. Whatever Vegeta may have been, he cared about you, Trunks."

"Dad...told you to save me?" Trunks repeated, his body numb. He'd never given much thought to how he and Goten actually escaped; the shock of losing his father and the resulting situation with Majin Bū had been quite a distraction. Only once Trunks had time to focus on it did he truly begin to dwell on his father — who the man had been, what he had done — and drilled Piccolo and anyone who would answer his questions about Vegeta's past.

This hadn't been the best thing for a coping child.

And yet to hear that Vegeta, in his last moments, prioritised the safety of his son...

"Dad..."

"I won't ask you to ignore what's bothering you, but that," Goten jabbed a finger in the direction of the Clone-Vegeta, who had recovered from his dropkick and was beginning to make his way back over to Goten and Trunks, crackling with bio-electricity, "is not Vegeta. Vegeta changed, and it may not have redeemed him of everything but you can't let that thing soil Vegeta's memory."

Goten was right. Trunks knew Goten was right, and he was simply being a fool mulling over things like this in the middle of battle. Trunks walked over to Goten's side, placing a hand on the man's shoulders. "Goten...thanks, man. I needed that."

"Don't mention it," replied Goten, grinning. "Now, stop holding back and let's teach this faker a thing or two!"

"Right!" Trunks nodded, inhaling deeply. His Super Saiyan aura retracted, pulling into his body as a conflagration burst forth. His muscles atrophied slightly, his face became calmer, younger, and his hair, formerly blonde, rigid and spiked, softened their shape, appearing much more like his regular haircut, simply raised. Trunks' hair dyed itself a deep crimson, revealing the young man to be standing next to Goten as a Super Saiyan God.

The Clone-Vegeta reacted to this fiercely; it had taken its approach slowly, yet now an energy roared to life within it. Was it fear? Eagerness to do battle? Rage or indignation? They couldn't tell, but Goten and Trunks knew that the Clone was reacting to their transformations. The effigy of Prince Vegeta approached the Saiyan Duo at breakneck speeds...only to run headlong into an extended foot and a rushing fist. The combined strength of the blow sent the clone reeling backwards.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Goten grinned, clenching a fist in anticipation. "You do much better when your mind is clear, Trunks!"

"Like you wouldn't have faltered if Cell had made an evil version of your mother," quipped Trunks, truly smiling for the first time since he'd run into his father's fake.

Beneath the duo, the ground began to quake, quivering under what Goten and Trunks realised was a rapidly rising ki. Vegeta's Super Saiyan aura was expanding, the man resembling a furious star. His hair began to lengthen, quickly reaching the length of his tailbone. His eyebrows receded, revealing a more prominent eyebrow ridge, and his eyes gained dark green pupils, normally going unnoticed in the eyes of a Super Saiyan.

"So he's brought out all of his power," Trunks said, bearing witness to his father's Super Saiyan 3 form in awe.

"Hard to believe he had that much in reserve; that's Vegeta for you!" crowed Goten. "What did Dad call this one? Super Saiyan 3?"

"That was the one," Trunks replied. "But the name doesn't matter. We're going to take him down." His face set firmly. I can do it now...!

Goten and Trunks, operating as a perfect unit, rushed forward. Trunks took the lead, deftly avoiding an outstretched arm from the clone of Vegeta; the technique was consistently simple once someone had seen it even once, and it relied too heavily on the element of surprise to be of actual use. Trunks' fist collided with Vegeta's stomach, stunning him with the force of a Super Saiyan God-enhanced punch. The blow distended his torso, his body rocketed backwards. Beneath Trunks, the ground erupted in fury, unable to withstand his pressure.

Goten followed as Vegeta quickly recovered, his body trying to regenerate the damage. He swung his arm violently, letting loose a volley of kikōha. The blasts were sharp and fast as bullets, yet Goten weaved under and around each and every one of them. The divine son of Gokū parried a sledgehammer blow from the faux Prince, putting him off his balance long enough to strike him with several precise punches and kicks. Trunks leapt into the fray, kicking Vegeta away from Goten and high into the sky.

Trunks pursued, spinning violently and slamming his fist into Vegeta's skull. He followed this blow with two more strikes; one to the chest and one to the abdomen. Goten quickly dove into the fray, landing a solid kick, capitalising on the quick action to snap his free leg into the faux Prince's chin. Stepping backwards to match Trunks, the Super Saiyan God duo struck another blow into the Super Saiyan 3, his body careening out of control. Relentlessly, they kept up the assault, landing two twin kicks into Vegeta's body.

"It ends here!" Trunks shouted, both he and his best friend pulling their arms back to charge ki. Both hands ignited as they were thrust forward, discharging a combined, crimson blast of ki. It raced across the skies of the Western Capital, lighting it ablaze with its glow. The kikōha slammed into Clone-Vegeta at full force; he tried to push against it, but its strength proved overwhelming. His body crashed into the barrier, propelled by Goten and Trunks' combined technique. With a final push, it enveloped Vegeta completely, incinerating him as it shattered the barrier and pushed outwards over the horizon.

"We..."

"...did it!"

The Saiyan duo released their god forms, descended to the ground. Trunks, thoroughly worn and beaten, stood next to Goten, who looked pristine. The Saiyan Prince cast a forlorn look towards the shattered barrier, where the clone of his father had been completely erased from existence. The young man knew that he had to do better. He needed to do better. Vegeta, his father, had not been a perfect man. But there were things to his father's legacy worth remembering, worth cherishing. He at least liked to believe so.

"Goten...next time, you won't have to bail me out," stated Trunks firmly. He clenched a gloved fist, holding one out to his best friend. Goten replied in kind, bumping fists with Trunks and grinning.

"I'll be here even if you don't need the help," replied Goten. "What do you say we get the stragglers left in the city someplace safe before we head over and meet that Cell?"

A/N:
LastationLover5000: And here it is! The latest chapter of the Erased Chronicles! I'm really sorry for the delay, as I barely made it for this month's chapter. And if my friend Demod20 — who I write Heart of Adventurers and Tale of the Sky Maiden with — hadn't pitched in, I might not have finished until July. I'm having a lot of trouble with fight scenes right now, so Demod20 was able to help me by writing the fight of Vegeta vs. Trunks; I didn't pitch in until Goten arrived, so you can see the quality clearly drop. Regardless, his section was great and really lent to what I wanted to be an emotional chapter! I'll see you all as soon as I can; we're getting closer to the main event of Gohan vs. Cell and I will bring my all to that battle! I'll see you all in the next chapter of the Erased Chronicles!

Demod20: Once again I lend my talents to Erased and boy what fun it was! As much as I like Trunks, I agree with the author in that he wasn't right in the head. There was a lot of unchecked baggage that didn't get properly settled. That and combined with Vegeta's latent fighting instincts mixing with the others' genes in him, and this clone was a deadly adversary for the poor guy; good thing Goten was there to help get his head back on straight! ^^