The car rumbled quietly over the cracked asphalt, the androids silent but focused as the mountains loomed ahead. The tension inside the vehicle was thick—an unspoken war brewing beneath the calm facade.
Rykon's voice broke through the stillness, firm yet weary. "Please… stop the car."
Android 17 glanced over, curiosity flickering in his cold eyes. "Why?"
Rykon's gaze fixed on the horizon, conflicted. "I think... it's time for me to leave."
The car slowed, then came to a halt. The world felt heavier in that moment—like the air itself was holding its breath.
Before they could react, Rykon pushed open the door and stepped out, his heart pounding with the weight of his decision.
Android 18's voice was sharp, laced with surprise. "And just where do you think you're going?"
"Back to my friends." His words trembled with resolve. "I've made my choice. It's not right to leave them behind."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Android 18's face. "But I thought we were your friends now?"
"You are," Rykon answered quietly, "but I can't abandon the others. That wouldn't be right."
Her eyes narrowed, challenging. "So if you leave us, you're ditching us too? Are they better than us?"
"Don't twist my words." His voice hardened.
A faint smirk tugged at Android 18's lips. "You're starting to sound like your annoying prince."
Android 17 chuckled softly, stepping closer to her. He leaned in, whispering something just out of Rykon's earshot. Great. What mischief is he plotting now?
"Relax, 18. Saiyans aren't like us. They love to fight. He probably just needs some space."
Her slap landed unexpectedly on Android 17's shoulder.
"He is NOT my boyfriend."
"One day, I'll get you back for that."
She rolled her eyes, brushing off the teasing.
Android 17 turned to Android 16, waiting for a response.
But all 16 said was a single word, heavy with meaning: "Goku."
The androids exchanged looks—unspoken understanding pulsing between them.
Android 17's voice cut through the tension. "Anyway, where did Rykon go?"
Android 18 shrugged, a sly grin playing at her lips. "Seems he's not much of a goodbye person."
Meanwhile, high above the land, a ship sliced through the clouds—carrying Yamcha, Krillin, Trunks, Chi-Chi, and Gohan. Goku lay asleep beneath a thin blanket, resting quietly on the ship's floor as they rushed toward Master Roshi's secluded house.
Yamcha's voice was casual, but the worry in his eyes betrayed his calm tone. "We're almost there. Hey, Krillin, should we let Bulma know what's going on?"
Krillin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah... but you know how she is. Sometimes she's hard to talk to."
Trunks chuckled softly. "She's the same in my time."
A heavy silence settled over the group.
Then Trunks broke it, voice low, almost hesitant. "What about Rykon? I wonder what he's doing right now."
Krillin frowned. "Huh?"
"He flew off with the androids because he saw something good in them."
Gohan's disbelief was immediate. "Are you serious?"
"I tried telling him they're ruthless killing machines," Trunks said. "But he's like Dad sometimes… and yet, other times, he acts like a brutal Saiyan."
Gohan's eyes darkened with worry. "I just hope he's okay."
Back on the ground, Rykon's heart pounded as he searched for an ominous, twisted energy—something dark and unnatural lurking nearby.
Suddenly, he spotted familiar faces: Trunks, Gohan, and Bulma.
He descended beside them, cautious but relieved.
Trunks stiffened, protective as ever, but then relaxed when recognition dawned. "Rykon?"
Gohan's voice cracked with emotion as he threw himself into a crushing hug. "Uncle Rykon! I thought the androids... killed you!"
Pain flared through Rykon's body. "Hey! No one can kill me… Except you, kid! You're breaking every bone!"
Gohan pulled back, cheeks flushed. "Sorry!"
Trunks approached, earnest. "I'm sorry for how I treated you. In my timeline, I've been fighting the androids for years—tried reasoning with them, but they just kept killing. Knowing you see good in them makes me angry."
Rykon smiled faintly. "It's okay. They seemed kind to me. They welcomed me like one of their own. I left by choice, not force. They even wanted me to stay."
Trunks frowned. "That's strange. I think they might have plans for you."
Bulma's voice cut in, sharp and calculating. "Since you have a connection with the androids, maybe we can use that."
Gohan's eyes lit up. "We could lure them in and set a trap!"
Trunks nodded. "Exactly. We can discuss the details later."
Rykon hesitated. "Wait, that sounds like betrayal..."
Trunks smiled sadly. "Yeah. But it's necessary."
Nearby, Bulma gestured toward a battered machine.
"One of my agents found this. It's supposed to be Trunks' time machine, but this one's broken."
Trunks looked thoughtful. "Wait—that's definitely the one I came here in. But how did this get here? I have mine right here."
Bulma shook her head. "Not exactly sure where it is, but it's somewhere in West District 1050."
Trunks' eyes sparked with determination. "I'm going there."
Bulma smirked. "I'm coming too."
Gohan added quietly, "I want to help. Is that okay?"
Trunks nodded. "Of course."
Together, they examined the wrecked time machine. A hole marred the glass dome—a strange, melted scar.
Trunks reached inside, pulling out a curious object—an egg, slick with a strange purple substance.
Everyone recoiled.
"What is this thing doing here?" Bulma whispered.
Trunks studied the machine's control panel, brows furrowed.
"This machine left three years after I arrived," he said slowly. "That's after I came from the future... but it arrived here four years ago—before I even warned you about the androids."
Gohan's mouth fell open. "Three years?! That's impossible!"
Trunks' voice was tense. "It could explain the strange energy I sensed."
Rykon swallowed hard, eyes wide.
"This changes everything."
To be continued...
POWER STONE!!!?
Support me at patreon.com/Qsamabin