Demonic Artificial Man—Trunks’ Return Ignites a Hunt for the Android Scourge

The ruined plain stretched silent beneath a bruised sky, the echoes of Frieza's departure fading as Trunks bowed deeply to Renkai. "Thank you, Mr. Renkai!" His voice trembled with gratitude, eyes bright with hope. Beside him, Siru's insectoid face split into a grin, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. The android understood his boss's intent—new prey awaited, ripe for devouring.

Trunks straightened, then hesitated, a frown creasing his brow. "One problem, though—the time machine." He popped it from its capsule, revealing a sleek, single-seat pod. "It's just me-sized. You and Siru can't fit."

Renkai smirked, glancing at Siru. "Didn't Bulma's notes mention Yamcha's pal Puar? Transformation's the trick." White smoke billowed, and in an instant, Renkai and Siru morphed into twin pistols, clattering into Trunks' hands. His jaw dropped, awe overtaking doubt. Siru's Puar-derived cells made it seamless. "Unreal," Trunks muttered, giving a thumbs-up before leaping into the machine. The pod whirred, vanishing into the timestream.

Future Earth materialized—a wasteland of crumbled concrete and ash. Trunks climbed out as the pistols shifted back, Renkai and Siru reforming beside him. A figure emerged from a shattered house—Bulma, older, her hair streaked with gray, yet her eyes sharp with resilience. "Trunks!" she called, rushing to embrace him. Her arms tightened, a mother's relief palpable.

"Mom, I'm back," Trunks said, voice soft. She pulled away, spotting Renkai and Siru. "Who're they?"

"Helpers from the past," Trunks replied, beaming. "They'll end 17 and 18. This is Renkai—powerful, and a Shenron. Siru's his android subordinate."

Renkai nodded, a pang hitting him as he studied this weathered Bulma—so like his own, yet marked by a harsher fate. "First meeting, Bulma. I can bring back Gohan and the others," he said gently.

Her eyes welled, a sob catching in her throat. "A Shenron…" She wiped her face, steeling herself. "Trunks, the time machine—it didn't change our past, did it? Just another world."

"Exactly," Trunks confirmed. "A parallel timeline. There, Tao Pai Pai, not Goku, crushed the Red Ribbon—where I met Renkai and Siru."

"Thank you," Bulma whispered, gratitude raw.

Renkai popped gum into his mouth, chewing lazily. "Chat later—let's bag those androids first."

"I've waited too long for this," Bulma said, fierce hope flaring. She took the capsulized time machine from Trunks and retreated to a bunker as he led Renkai and Siru skyward, toward the androids' haunt.

Renkai tapped his combat detector, frowning. No readings—androids had no ki. "Siru, cloak your power," he ordered. "Gero's creations sniff out strength—they'll bolt if they catch yours."

"Yes, Lord Renkai," Siru replied, his aura dimming to a flicker. Renkai switched the detector to eternal energy furnace mode—Gero's signature tech. Data flashed: Android 17: 500 million. Android 18: 420 million. "Trunks, fifty kilometers that way," he said, pointing. "They're there."

Trunks, briefly Super Saiyan to lure them, dropped the glow, marveling. "Your detector tracks androids? That's a game-changer." In his fights with Gohan, their lack of aura had been a curse—always ambushed, never ambushing.

"Gero modded it for me—eternal furnace pings," Renkai said, smirking. "Outsmarts their stealth."

They descended on a shattered town, its skeletal buildings sheltering desperate survivors. Screams pierced the air, mingling with cold laughter. Android 17, a lean youth in jeans, twirled a pistol, popping a child's head with casual cruelty. Nearby, 18, blonde and lethal, crushed a woman's skull underfoot, her smile icy. The pair turned as one, detectors beeping: Trunks: 4.4 million. Unknown (Renkai): 530,000. Unknown (Siru): 120,000.

"18, look—Trunks brought playmates," 17 said, grinning as he shot a fleeing man. Blood sprayed, his glee unshaken.

18 glanced skyward, boot grinding bone. "Bored of that pretty boy anyway. Thought next time I'd kill him—but fresh toys? Let him linger a bit longer, 17. What do you say?"

"Whatever you want," 17 replied, blasting another survivor. "Just say when he's done."

Trunks clenched his fists, rage boiling. "Monsters," he hissed, sword gleaming as he prepared to charge.

Renkai's hand stopped him, eyes narrowing. "Wait. They're baited—let Siru spring the trap." The androids' casual slaughter, their mocking ease, only sharpened the stakes—Earth's tormentors, ripe for reckoning.

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