Disclaimer: I do nor own Dragon Ball Z

Betaed by: Zim'sMostLoyalServant & Trackula

Reprogrammed, Rewound, Redeemed?

Chapter 1

Age 763

It was a place where nothing was supposed to happen today. A stretch of woodland almost abutting a grey, ill-tempered sea, with only a strip of rocky beach separating the ranks of pines from the surf. It had a name, but as the closest locals would not bother to name it, there would be little point. And today would be much like any other day in this deserted corner of a deserted corner of the Earth.

Except it wasn't.

The arrival came in a flash of light in the sky, and descended like a forsaken star, crashing into the surf.

The burning metal actually drove the sea back for an instant, veiling itself in steam. But the ocean returned with the next moment, steaming and boiling but refusing to retreat before this intruder. Not that it needed fear this thing, as it burned and crumbled by the second. Its shape, already vague, was quickly lost, even its ashes carried away by wind and sea. Soon enough, the stream only enshrouded the arrival's contents, a mass of bluish gel that popped and crackled under its own heat, but collapsed and melted rather than disintegrating.

And as it shrank, a form emerged. Patiently letting the mass recede from her, a woman let herself be lowered into the water as her prison disappeared.

Soon enough, the steam faded, and all that remained was the woman, not even cloaked by steam as the ocean fully reasserted itself, and all evidence of her arrival vanished. Still lingering fingers of steam rose from her form, and standing up, her knees in the sea, she squatted and took a handful of water and poured it on her head, letting it run through her pale blonde hair, flattening the light curliness to it.

From there, she padded down her body with the wet hand, dipping it back as needed. Bit by bit, a lingering redness receded, and her own pale complexion was restored, save for the reddish scars on the stump of her right arm that left only enough arm to cover that armpit. Or the scar on the right side of her head that covered where that ear should be and left an almost striped pattern on her neck there. Lesser marks appeared across her body; they likely would have gone unseen if not for her paleness, but as it was they hinted at remains of much lesser injuries in the past. Looking at herself in the poor mirror of the surf, the woman would still say she was one of the few truly great beauties in the world.

Standing up, she walked onto shore, stretching all the way and looking curiously around at the pine forest.

"So, still alive, or Heaven is a bit underwhelming," she remarked with a certain melancholy smile. Lifting her index finger, she charged a point of light at the tip, idly pointed at a tree, and fired a blast of ki. She nodded as the tree exploded, followed by a line of trees behind it, tapering off to falling as the blast lost power. Raising her hand to her eyes, she saw the edge of the forest beyond her path of destruction.

She could fly out, she noted, but just now she wanted to walk.

X X X

She wanted to sleep after reaching the forest's edge, and being greeted with grasslands stretching as far as she could see. Her journey had not been long, but it had seemed almost eternal. And as durable as she was, her immobile, breathless confinement had been trying to endure. From the moment her head was covered, her every instinct had been to blast it all away, reclaim the air that was her right to breath. But it had been forbidden; every safety measure was needed as she was sent across a forbidden frontier.

And she wanted to nap, sleep or whatever, now vindicated by survival. The fact she was bare as the day she was born mattered little. After being sealed away so necessarily but horrifyingly, exposure was the least of her concerns. The horrid heat, the grasping hands of the void trying to reach her, aware from start to finish of how utterly helpless she was, exhausted her.

Sleep, dream. Yes, dream of what was promised by her mistress. A world of people and wonderful things she could have. Such things, and so many. Maybe even people she could enjoy?

But no, her mistress' orders came first. A part of her felt unease at that fact, tried to question it. But there was no path in her head for that question to exist, much less travel. From that source an order was an indisputable fact, and she bowed to it with irritation but absolute resignation.

She needed to confirm the date. Had she arrived when planned?

Bulma Briefs had been dying and desperate to change destiny. By her own admission, the elderly last human was a shadow of the genius she had once been. Mistakes could have occurred, jeopardizing the mission.

Gohan, the image taken from that surviving picture, was burned into her mind. She needed to find him and through him ensure humanity's survival.

Repurposed, Android 18 took to the air, counseling herself that she would be able to get clothes when she confirmed the year.

X X X

The next week was dedicated to getting her feet under her.

Some passable clothes were easily obtained from a clothesline outside a homestead of some sort. An ankle-length blue dress, not really to her taste but it served well enough to let her walk into the nearby town and dig a newspaper from the trash.

The town was not much of a much. A collection of stores, houses, and a small government building around a tiny park. It clearly just existed to serve a nearby lumber-mill and the outlying houses such as the homestead she had robbed. Still, it was a vast improvement over the silent world she had come from, as people and even a few cars went by in their business on this temperate but cloudy day.

Rediscovering her fondness for attention was pleasant. People noticed her since there were people around again to notice her. Her memory grew fuzzier the further back it went; even her times with her brother seemed detached and distant, and as a human she remembered more impressions than facts. And she knew Bulma had wrung her memory for anything on her cyberization. It had been painful, and fruitless; her mistress had been furious.

Yes, her time with Bulma, much of it strapped down as a generator, were her clearest memories. Her back still ached occasionally from the scar marking where the last human, her Mistress, had tapped her power so liberally back then.

Interacting was difficult. To get money, her first idea had been confirming with the butcher money could be earned for hunting game. Dragging a doe with a freshly broken neck into town had netted her a nice wad of cash, but she had begun to dislike the attention here. It had gone sour.

Shoes and a proper outfit had been next. Her mistress had always been keen on the glory of pockets in a world with fewer and fewer capsules, so her first outfit of a black shirt and grey camo pants was completed with a dark blue vest full of pockets. With the sleeve pinned back of course.

The date confirmed the possibility she had overshot her mark. The Battle on Namek was unfolding now, her suggested insertion shortly before the Cold Family's invasion a ways off.

Her next priority was to be setting up a workable identity and base to operate from.

X X X

The remainder of the week, she mined. A vein of gold Bulma had discovered excavating one of her bunkers during the early years of the Android Crisis. By then, the economy was starting to unravel, so it had been less of a deal than otherwise.

The location was rather remote, but her flight let her access it easily, and the map had literally been downloaded into her mind along with information on how to proceed. It would have taken some time even with all that for a lone prospector to strike it rich. But for 18, her ki blasts and super strength meant the pristine landscape was her rich nerd to hit until it coughed up the goods. Granted, she was disappointed raw gold was not as splendid as hoped.

Still, it was worth it she assured herself, relaxing in the sun for the moment on a blanket laid out on a slab of rock amidst the pines growing at the base of her crude mine. Bare for the time being; her skin was more durable than her precious clothes, and no one was around anyway. She flew most of her trips to the nearest town for buying supplies with her dwindling cash, so anyone tracking her to her camp was unlikely.

Yeah, just a camp, a tent for basic shelter she didn't need but wanted, with a trunk protecting her few possessions from the elements and a fire pit she had dug herself, currently with a shank of venison that was alive that morning roasting over the fire.

Her food needs were quite small, but her mistress had often forgot to feed her, so she had decided she would never tolerate being hungry again if she could help it. And frankly, she enjoyed it. Not the killing, but the making of a meal, even buying a guidebook to local wild herbs and spices on a shopping trip.

"I can do more than just destroy, mistress," 18 remarked, taking the meat off the fire and taking a bite of the charred, greasy meat, revealing it still terribly red inside.

Work in progress, she amended, but ate anyway, unconcerned.

X X X

The gold, when mined to her satisfaction, brought her more clothes, a rather illegal set of identity papers, and her favorite part, a capsule house. A standard, small two bedroom capsule house she could set up most anywhere. She could feel her mistress nagging her that she needed only a one bedroom if even that, but 18 wanted more.

The name on her new card and other fake papers was Andrea Anne Teen. It lacked the elegance of 18, but her double was an enemy and they shared weaknesses. Her survival and her mission depended on secrecy. It was why her face was surgically altered, and supposedly why her mistress reduced her chest.

She was still certain the old scientist had done that last bit in part from spite. But she couldn't fault her; Bulma had ensured she couldn't, as part of the years spent reprogramming her.

And of course, clothes. A glorious new wardrobe. Mostly stuff that was at least semi practical, but she had splurged on a fine dress that she liked in part for being labeled Lazuli blue. Lazuli, it had a nice ring to it. The shopper assistant had barely dared look at her; apparently she was so pretty in the revealing dress.

Of course, most of her funds were gone now. But with a home, identity, and the basic needs met, she felt she could rest for a bit.

Specifically, she set up her home on the far side of Mount Paozu from a certain house and then slept for three days.

Upon waking, it was finally time to start carrying out the plan.

X X X

The Son family house was frankly disappointing. 18 had been expecting some kind of lodge befitting a warrior hermit of the wilderness, maybe some animal hides tanning on racks or skulls adorning the walls. Instead, it was just a capsule house with two more homey structures, with some eastern style built into it. So bland; she could deal with cheap, money could be tight, but bland offended her.

18 gave little thought to her own mass-produced house resting on the other side of the mountain. Though she might, if pressed, assert it was just a house rather than a home.

Walking up the dirt tract, her eyes drifted to a nearby hut. An eyebrow quirked at the shrine-like structure. With its slated, curving up roof and small windows and double door, it had some style, she concluded. Moving off track from course for the proper house, she walked up to the hut, looking it over and peering into a window. It wasn't being used as storage space, but it wasn't entirely empty either.

"Guess this is where the man of the house goes when his wife kicks him out," 18 speculated. Turning, she raised her hand in greeting to the irritated dark-haired woman thinking she had snuck up on the android.

"Actually, it's maintained as a memorial of sorts to my husband's grandfather and my father's friend."

"Is that so? Well, in a pinch it could also house you, I guess," 18 shrugged.

"And who are you exactly?"

"Your neighbor. Andrea Anne Teen, I've just set up a house about on the other side of the mountain."

"We have neighbors?" the woman said, demeanor changing. 18 took the woman in. Old-fashioned but nice-looking clothing, Chinese style. Black hair pulled mostly into a bun. There was a definite housewife air around her, but also a certain, intimidating air?

"I'm Son Chichi, welcome to the mountain," Chichi said, offering a polite bow. 18 gave a thumbs up and a small smile. And caught Chichi looking at her pinned-up sleeve. Moving the stump in a lazy circle, she smirked.

"Go ahead, get a good look. Once it's boring, it won't be awkward," 18 said.

"I'm so sorry!" Chichi apologized, flinching a bit and looking away.

"You can go ahead and take in my missing ear and messed up neck too," 18 said, turning to present her scarred profile, "I'm more annoyed by people pretending it's not noticeable."

Chichi met her eyes again, clearly a bit abashed on how to proceed.

"You were in an accident?"

"My brother tried to kill me. It didn't take, but he put in an honest effort, as you can see."

"Oh my!"

"Don't worry. I'd say you should see the other guy, but well, I killed him," 18 shrugged. Hopefully a bit of honesty at the start would make subsequent lies easier to sell, she had planned.

"…So what brings you to Mount Paozu?" Chichi asked carefully, feet sliding into part of a stance, 18 noticed.

"Well, I'm not on the run, if that's what you mean. I actually struck it rich with a tidy little gold strike in my travels, and decided to settle down. I've mostly been a city girl but, well, I have decided to explore more to life by trying the country living. Basically making money on pelts and supplying meat and fish for the local markets. Herbs and stuff, and can make some money too, with the right people who demand free range. Oh, and a bit of home gardening."

"Well, I do love the country life, so glad to see a city woman give it a chance," Chichi sighed, closing her eyes, before they popped open again, "How thoughtless of me, why don't you come in for some tea?"

"Alright," 18 said. Her smile was genuine. Gohan was most likely in that house; she was a step closer to her objective.

X X X

"Really? You're living out here alone?" Chichi asked in surprise. They were sitting in a fairly tasteful parlor; Chichi had been insistent they not use the kitchen table as 18, Andrea, was company. The only real point of interest though were the family photos. Hmm, she noted the Ox King's picture. Bulma had given her little data on him, but he had apparently been a contender in his time.

"Yep, closest thing to company on the mountain was a talking flying dino who thought blondes might be more tasty. A good smack taught him better, now I call him Doug and he stays away from me."

"Is that his name?" Chichi asked picking up her tea cup.

"Don't know, don't care," 18 said, taking another sip. It was actually pretty good, the tea.

"Smacked him, does that make you a fighter?" Chichi asked, leaning forward.

"I know enough to get by, but never cared to enter tournaments or anything," 18 said. And hey, it was even true. Chichi nodded.

"Yes, a proper lady doesn't enter that kind of thing unless there's a real goal. And certainly not just fighting for the sake of fighting."

18 found that statement a bit odd and asked for another cup of tea.

"So, your Mr. Son around?" 18 asked. She knew full well Goku was still in space, but playing dumb was necessary. And it would get her more tea in the meantime.

"My husband is off training, and that's a whole conversation right there!" Chichi snapped.

"Well, for another pot of tea, you can vent to me," 18 offered, draining her cup.

Six Tea Pots Later:

'And here I thought I'd have to play dumb about Dragon Balls,' 18 thought, nursing her latest cup. Her physiology was superior to a human's in so many ways. But even so, she had miscalculated — she really needed to pee, and Chichi showed no sign of slowing down, even as she recounted the supposed end of the tale, with Goku refusing to return via dragon.

She was going into a tangent about too much training, not enough farming, again. 18 decided she needed to make a subtle move to escape.

"I really need to pee," 18 snapped, harder than intended.

"Oh! Just through there to your left," Chichi said, snapping back to normal mid-rant. It took a good bit of restraint to move at normal human speed, running toward the directed bathroom. But that was what let the dark-haired little boy with a bowl cut dodge her in the hallway.

18 froze, her eyes zeroing in on him. Yes, it was him, Son Gohan, the principal of her programming, the key to her purpose being him surviving and thriving.

"Sorry! Uh, who are you miss?" he said awkwardly, eyes darting to her pinned sleeve and scars on her head.

"Oh, Gohan!" Chichi said, stepping onto the scene, "This is Miss Teene, our new neighbor-"

"Pee now, nice to meet you," 18 said, making her exit. When she closed the door to the porcelain sanctuary, she gave a wider smile than anything she could remember, and all before relieving the pressure.

She had found him. Gohan, her Gohan she decided, as he was at least equal to herself and likely surpassed her mistress in importance to her programming. Now it was in her power to determine how to proceed.

X X X

She spoke less than ten words to Gohan before being ushered from the house.

Walking back through the woods, sparing anything that provoked her in favor of thinking, 18 decided Chichi had not been deliberately blocking her. The woman really seemed to want today to be a study day. And she'd not shot down 18's suggestion Gohan and she could visit her place. She really didn't care about Chichi visiting, but even in her haste, she had realized inviting Gohan alone would be bad.

Still, even if getting kicked out was only incidental, it irked her immensely. She had, for the first time since her mistress had repaired her back to functionality and given her purpose in exchange, had that purpose in front of her and it was snatched away.

Chichi was an obstacle, 18 concluded, casually chopping down a thick branch obscuring her path. She was not sure how much of one or what measures were warranted, but an obstacle for certain. Son Goku was likely an asset; he was a model of fighter Gohan could learn from. Her own implanted knowledge was not something she could truly pass on effectively, she quickly concluded.

Hmm, it occurred to her she might be able to learn from Goku herself. It would require explaining her power… But being Goku's student would also give a valid reason to be near Gohan. She had a duty to Gohan and a wider one to prevent the genocide of Earthlings.

She was not happy walking away from Gohan with his only protection someone weaker than him, but satisfied she was taking the first steps and making the plan that would negate the silent future she remembered.

X X X

As time passed, 18 kept up her own activities, her trapping and gathering for one, starting that garden for another, and of course just her home chores. But these were built around supporting her true activity on Paozu, namely monitoring Gohan.

It had been two weeks since she had introduced herself to the Son family, and she had adjusted her timeframe estimate; it seemed Namek had been wrapped up before her arrival, instead she had arrived in the timeline shortly before the Namekian Dragon Balls bad been used.

Annoying, and a bit worrisome that her estimate had been off. With her Mistress out of reach, there was no one she could share her cybernetic nature with, so any repairs would simply have to be left undone.

Well, at last her current course was clear. She had officially visited again once. Tea again, but no Gohan, as he was studying. He did that a great deal, it seemed. But not exclusively; he also did some hunting and fishing his mother allowed.

Even with flight, stealth had not been so easy with him. But she had avoided detection and gathered information.

Finally, it was time to properly meet Son Gohan without his mother running interference.

Among other things, she had learned Gohan caught fish to sell at the market in town. Well, his mother took the fish and sold them to a vendor, he was left behind to study. Still, his pattern for fishing was easy enough to pick up on. And she easily got a fishing pole, and took it for a spin a few times before putting herself in his path.

18 did not really like fishing, she had found. She preferred moving through the forest, hunting or seeking the herbs and spices she sold. Fishing, like this at least, was too sedentary. She had no trouble sitting back to enjoy films or lying down to nap, but this mixture of attention and stationary, it was rubbing her the wrong way.

So she was very relieved when the picturesque scene of her perched on a stone over the mountain river was broken by a fish being punched out of the water and flying over her head.

Her glance back and raised eyebrow was more acting than any real surprise or curiosity.

Gohan himself followed the fish, leaping out in a blur of white and purple. She did blink this time, when he nearly collided with her head.

"Sorry!" he said, skidding on the grass behind her.

'Fast,' she thought. Not as fast as her, but still, that was good speed. She briefly recalled the warrior with only one arm left defying them.

'But not good enough,' she reminded herself.

"Well, that seems pretty extreme fishing. Or does he owe you money?" 18 asked.

"Uh, it's just faster to go in after them, Miss Teene," Gohan said.

"Huh, the guy at the fishing shop acted like waiting was the whole game. But you're making more sense," she nodded. Planting the fishing pole between the rocks, she tossed her vest aside and dove into the water.

She heard Gohan call out in surprise, but focused on the task at hand. Ah, there was a fish. Did she need to grab one bigger than Gohan's? She decided it was not necessary, and just lunged toward the unfortunate fish dinner in the making.

18 leapt out with the fish in hand landing soaking wet next to Gohan.

"Well, on the one hand it is quicker, but I probably need a shower considering nature doesn't get out of the water to do its business," she remarked.

"Wow, so you train?" Gohan asked.

"Not so much anymore," she said, laying her fish down next to Gohan's. He looked at her stump then glanced away and ended up looking at her scars. Well at least he wasn't looking at her curves, she thought, almost smiling.

"I'd rather you take a good hard look, kid. It's no good pretending you don't see them; better to just look at them and get bored until they don't matter to you," she said, wiggling the stump.

"Sorry," he apologized, still looking away.

Now she frowned, walking over to the kid and crouching. He looked at her, only to stumble in surprise as she poked him on the forehead with her index finger.

"Did you not listen to what I was saying? That's a lot more rude than staring at a woman you know, not paying attention when she's trying to tell you something."

"So-… um. What am I supposed to say?" he asked, rubbing his forehead.

"How about 'okay' or 'I see'. Let's me know you get what I am saying without smacking yourself in the face."

"…Okay," he said, nodding.

"Well, can I call you Gohan, or should I be formal?" 18 asked, tilting her head.

"Uh, Gohan is fine?" he said.

"Well, you can call me Miss Teene, you seem the formal type," she remarked. He nodded. So, as she thought. That was not very good for her cause. She needed a warrior that surpassed his father so much that Trunks and everyone else would be saved when the time came.

"Well, I need to get this fish back to my house. That's tonight's dinner," 18 said, tossing a capsule which exploded to reveal a trunk cooler.

"Are you having company?" Gohan asked. She supposed the fish was still pretty big as she opened the cooler, revealing it to be lined with ice.

"No. I might not look it, but I can put away a lot of food. So I do. Say, why don't I show you where my house is? In case you ever want to stop by?"

"Oh! Well, no, I mean the fish only keep so long…"

"Put it in here with mine. I don't care if mine gets a bit squished, it won't hurt the flavor."

He seemed to want an excuse but he couldn't find one. Ha, victory was hers this round.

Feeling it was good to tip her hand a bit, rather than re-capsule the cooler she picked it up and rose into the air.

"You can fly?!"

"Neat trick, eh Gohan?"

"I don't sense any ki from you," he said in shock.

"So you know about that? Well, my ki can't be sensed, apparently. Something I was born with, just like my teacher could never teach me how to sense ki."

"Master Roshi?"

"No. She's dead," 18 said, not entirely lying. Even if the old timeline wasn't erased, she could never return.

"So does that mean you can fly, Gohan?" 18 asked with a small smile. He nodded and rose up to join her in the air. She noted he stopped so he wasn't at eye level, as if they were still standing on the ground. That seemed… a wasted opportunity.

"Well, try and keep up," she taunted, flying backwards before rolling and swinging the cooler onto her back. The impact was not the least bit painful, but the weight was a bit awkward as she sped up. Glancing to the side, she saw him pull even with her; looked like he was only straining a little.

Alright then, she thought, speeding up into a spiral and grinning slightly as she made him work for it.

"Were you trying to lose me?" Gohan asked, as they set down in front of her house. He looked flustered but not tired, 18 noted happily. Good — if that had exhausted him, it would be trouble.

"No, just having some fun," she said with a wave. She took a moment to look around the meadow she had set up her house in. The round capsule house stood in the center of it, the grass standing about knee-high, save for the paths she had cut in, where it crunched under foot. Behind the house was her vegetable garden, with nice neat rows of plants protected by a metal fence topped with barbed wire tall as her; a bonus of flying was no need for a gate. And a shed for odds and ends she didn't want in the house.

"Wow, you set this up yourself?" Gohan asked. 18 rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a pioneer, Gohan. The house is a capsule, and the rest was just a little elbow grease."

"Well, it's just a bit hard to believe other people are out here," he admitted.

"Honestly, one reason I'm here is I like to keep people a bit at arm's length," she said. Which was true enough, she supposed. She didn't hate people, but she couldn't see herself enjoying more than a circle of company regularly. Besides, the isolation would make it easier to get close to Gohan.

The garden was of some interest to Gohan, with his own family doing such. The house, she quickly realized, she'd lost him on. Well, to be frank it was just to her taste, which was stacks of stuff that caught her eye and a spare bedroom effectively used as a walk-in closet.

So soon enough, he was off.

"Feel free to drop by, Gohan!" she called after him.

Then she was alone.

Shadowing him right now would be risky, and she had caught up on chores in the hope his visit would take much longer. 18 knew it would be better to go to town and do something, or just get more work in. Instead she found herself sitting on the sun side of her house. The wall warmed by the sun, the grass under her, staring off into nothing.

She knew where it was going, but couldn't stop it.

X X X

The world had become silent. The twins knew that wasn't really true, but the wind, crumbling ruins, and stupid animals did not count.

They'd done it. Their long, drawn-out game had come to a close they had realized one day, sheltering in a somewhat intact hotel from a thunderstorm.

No one had seriously challenged them since they killed that one-armed guy and his son or whatever. And as the years wore on, the game of cat and mouse had become less pleasurable. People were just so annoying that killing them outright just seemed better.

But somewhere between humans getting scarce and looking for settlements to plunder for clothes and other stuff, they realized there didn't seem to be any settlements. They'd been killing hermits and nomads for some years now, but it had never quite crossed their minds they would actually kill everyone.

This made them feel… well, bored.

They had both spent time searching, out of nothing better to do or some hope they were wrong. Even blasting craters in spots that seemed likely to flush out any underground bunker nonsense. But no, from the mountains to the sea, it seemed their voices were the only ones that still spoke.

Space looking back never crossed their minds. For a bit, they could enjoy being King/Queen of the world. After all, people were such a mess of a thing, they'd probably improved the planet by removing them.

But boredom. And of course, the fact that even as they got better at scavenging they did not forget that they would run out of stuff. Which meant either doing without, or worse, having to make it themselves.

Clearly, the other was to blame, and as the situation deteriorated year after year, one day they decided the other had to die for taking away their cash cows.

18 won.

She honestly did not remember how; her head was cracked when she woke up. Her arm was gone, and nothing but her facial muscles and eyes responded. Even talking didn't work, at best getting an odd raspy noise.

But 17 was dead, she knew because he was lying on top of her with a pair of huge holes in his torso, and a small one in his head. He was pinning her, but she couldn't move anyway.

But she was still alive, so she was the winner.

The thought comforted her less and less as the seasons turned and she was buried under more snow than she could blink away.

It was a silent world, where she could only watch and listen, feeling little besides her twin's dead body pressing down on her as the rags it wore rotted and the soil gradually creeped up with an unnerving threat to some day bury her.

Her only distraction was pretending she could talk, and that 17 was alive enough to talk back. He made for even worse company when dead, and she hated how weepy she got when he refused to talk with her.

Animals occasionally sniffed around, but neither of them were really meat anymore, and besides even now they were both tougher than some scavenger's jaws.

It was just another day swimming against the current trying to draw her down the drain that was admitting she could not and never would escape her miserable state, that noise erupted in the silent world. Her meandering and twisted thoughts ground to a halt as her mind went wonderfully blank for once as an aircraft approached. She knew it had a real name, but her mind didn't want to share, because it was a jerk that got her in trouble from elementary to today.

It turned out there was at least one human left.

That was the day she met the elderly scientist, Bulma Briefs.

X X X

What happened with Piccolo was just embarrassing, she could admit. Admit it all alone, with the water running in her shower and the door and windows all closed.

"So, am I to take it you're the new neighbor I have heard about?" Piccolo asked, holding her ankle in his hand.

He had snuck up on her in the brush. She had been waiting for Gohan to get home from his routine for this weekday.

"How'd you sense me?" she demanded, tugging her foot against his grip. She was quite capable of standing like this, but it had to look ridiculous.

"Your ki may be invisible, as Gohan said. But I have good ears," the Namekian said. 18 restrained her glare, just like she had restrained that kick at the last second. It hadn't taken long to figure out that the bond between Piccolo and Gohan seemed stronger than Bulma had recalled. So killing him would not be good for her cause.

"Why were you spying on Chichi?" he demanded.

'Chichi? Oh right,' she thought, head tilting to look back toward the Son house. She supposed it seemed like that, with only the housewife home.

"People watching is a bit of a hobby. Especially when they don't know it," she said with a grin that was likely not as big as she thought.

He rolled his eyes and she congratulated herself. A good lie wasn't just half truths, it could also mean 'revealing' lies others would accept too quickly because it never occurred to them someone would lie about such a thing.

"So, you're Piccolo. Gohan holds you in very high regard," 18 said.

"He talks too much."

"I find it quite endearing."

"…"

"Are you going to give my foot back?" she demanded calmly.

He gave her foot back, and she lowered it some and tsked, seeing the shoe was ripped.

"Not a bad hit for a human," Piccolo said.

"Thanks, that was almost a compliment. Well, since it seems clear you don't want me here, I'll just go home," 18 said with a dismissive wave, before lightly kicking off the ground into a low flight.

X X X

"I don't trust her," Piccolo said. They were in Gohan's room, Piccolo sitting on the bed in a mediative position as Gohan sat studying at the desk. The window was still open from him coming in as to avoid chatting with Chichi. He had not come to exchange pleasantries or be told Gohan was busy studying.

"Mr. Piccolo, you hardly trust anyone," Gohan pointed out.

"Just because that's true does not make me wrong. She was spying on you. That's not normal."

"Well, yeah, that is weird. But I think it's pretty clear she's been through a lot. Missing an arm, all those scars. And now she wants to live out here away from most people. Maybe she just doesn't know what not to do, really?"

"Being crazy isn't that much better than being evil."

"Well, that depends quite a bit," Gohan said, tapping his chin with his pencil. Piccolo rolled his eyes, feeling he was not getting through to his student.

"She's strong, too. But it didn't look like she had much training. Humans shouldn't be that strong naturally; Goku's human friends worked hard for ages and still lag behind."

"How strong would you say she is, Mr Piccolo?"

"I'd say that kick was something I'd expect out of Yamcha since he trained under King Kai. But she held back. Probably not much, but she may be on the level of Tienshenhan."

"She mentioned training to me."

"I'd say she was lying."

"Well, maybe she's a mutant human or something and had to train instead to suppress her power. Maybe she blew up her own arm by mistake. And she could want to live alone because she knows she can be dangerous. Oh! Maybe that's why she is spying on me. It might be lonely if you are strong enough to be afraid of being with people…"

It quickly became apparent Gohan was too taken with his theory to be dissuaded, so Piccolo took his leave into the night.

He swung by the woman, Teene's, house and stood in the air almost atop her roof. He could hear her inside sleeping, and looking around the homestead he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Yeah, he was not buying this. Maybe it was just a damaged woman happening to move into Gohan's neck of the woods, but Piccolo was not going to just accept that. He wouldn't throw her out, as he was sure Gohan would find out and get upset, but he'd keep an eye on her. He really couldn't care less about her past, traumatic or otherwise, but until Goku returned he had an obligation to ensure Gohan didn't get dragged into more trouble.

Resolved, he flew off into the night, leaving an unknowing android dreaming.

X X X

"My husband will be coming home soon," Chichi said proudly. 18 knew that, of course, but she still stopped the forkful of pork chop on its way to her mouth. At least, she was a bit surprised Chichi mentioned it.

"Congratulations, I hope he had a safe trip," 18 said.

She was seated at the table of the Son house with a half-eaten dinner laid out for them. Well, Gohan of course had more than half the table dedicated to feeding him.

Chichi had invited her to a weekly dinner for neighbors shortly after Piccolo had confronted her. 18 had worried Piccolo and the woman might be plotting something, but now she wondered if the effectively for now single mother just wanted company. 18 didn't consider herself particularly good company; her talks with Chichi were mostly listening with the occasional comment or nod. But the other woman seemed to enjoy it.

Chichi, for her part, hadn't seemed to enjoy 18's attempt to host a reciprocation dinner. 18 had a feeling the housewife had been on edge the whole time, and kept glancing at the corner of the dining room 18 kept the vacuum and cleaning stuff lodged into.

"Thanks, it is space after all," Gohan said around a portion. 18 smiled; seeing him cut loose to eat was endearing. Chichi frowned.

"Gohan, no space talk at the table. Or in front of company."

"Sorry. But Miss Teene, would you like to come and greet my dad? A bunch of us are getting together, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you."

"Sure," 18 said, before taking her bite. She overlooked Chichi's exasperated look before giving the woman a nod to show she still liked the way she seasoned pork.

The thought of meeting Bulma, even another Bulma, distracted her until she realized it was time to go.

X X X

Looking around, 18 decided she hated this place. It was a real wasteland; hardly anything growing, likely few animals beyond bugs and such. She was a bit surprised how attached she seemed to have become to Paozou and its lushness, but shrugged it off as simply recognizing her home was superior to this dump.

"So, you brought her," Piccolo said, where he stood off to the side.

"Well, why not? It's not like this is some high social circle," Chichi huffed, hands on hips as she got off the cloud. 18 eyed the golden nimbus as it flew off. She had tried, on Gohan's prompting, but to no surprise on her part she couldn't touch it. Just another reminder, in addition to the ones her mistress put in her head, she was guilty.

"Hi, name's Yamcha," the scar-faced bandit introduced himself first. She pretended to not know them. Her Bulma had shown her pictures of the Z-Fighters, and sometimes was even sober when dong it.

Yamcha was polite and a bit bashful, though he did keep looking at her stump. Krillin… well, he seemed a tad flustered, but he wasn't staring at her missing arm.

Chiaotzu was just oddly formal for a kid.

"Tienshenanan," Tien said, not getting up from where he sat poised on a boulder. And that exchange of names was that.

But of course, there was Bulma.

"Well, good to see the testosterone getting a bit more diluted around here. So, Miss Teene, I'm Bulma Briefs but I'm sure they told you about me."

She had an afro, her hair was a lovely shade of blue, and of course she was so very young. But the eyes were what did it, they were so… not her mistress. Android 18 — repaired, remodeled, and reprogrammed to ceaselessly seek to change the past — was left stunned at the practical innocence in this woman's eyes.

"Oh, intimidated to meet a celebrity? Well, don't worry, I don't bite," Bulma laughed off the staring.

18 had wanted to scream as she felt the elderly woman poke around in her head with instruments, plugs piercing her mind. She couldn't feel anything being poured into her programming, but she could imagine as it was told to her.

Scalpels. Superfluous straps. But never as bad as the dark times left immobile and plugged into the base, all in darkness. When she pleaded for her mistress to come back and not be dead and rotting somewhere. Because as bad as her being around was, it was so much worse alone.

Bulma cocked her head and just grabbed the blonde's sole hand hand and shook it, seeing her eyes unglaze.

"See? It's fine. Besides, if Chichi gives you the stamp of approval, you must be something."

"It's not like my standards are that strict," Chichi complained, entering the conversation. 18 half listened, back in the present, feeling Bulma's hand in hers. Not Bulma, but a Bulma.

She decided to add an objective to make sure these Bulmas never became one and the same, and with a bit of reluctance let the hand go at Bulma's sweat drop look.

"Who taught you the Sky Dance technique?" Tienshenanan inquired, turning his attention to the woman without approaching.

"My teacher," she said plainly. When she offered nothing more, the two held each other's gaze for a few seconds before 18 looked away, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I'm Krillin, nice to meet you!" the shaved martial artist said, stepping up to her with a goofy smile and offering his hand. Which he looked at with a bit of concern before swapping it for his other hand, letting her remaining hand shake easily.

"Gohan has told me about you," she remarked.

"I swear it's not true," he laughed.

"Are you calling Gohan a liar?" she demanded, squeezing his hand even as her expression remained unchanged.

"Uh, no, not at all! Just a bit of a joke, haha," Krllin laughed, sweating a bit.

"I don't get it," she said, letting him go.

"Because it wasn't funny. Is there anything you don't fail at?" the pointy-haired Saiyan prince remarked from his perch on the rocks.

18 noted him. He was valuable, at the very least until Trunks was conceived. But she expected him to be annoying until then, and interacting was unwise until he had fulfilled his role.

"Well, I'm Yamcha. You a baseball fan?"

"Not really," she said to the scar-faced former bandit. He wasn't hostile or telling odd jokes, so he was the best rated one so far. So for the Android, he rated higher protection than the other Z Fighters, barring Piccolo, but that was based on keeping the Dragon Balls active and his closeness to Gohan.

"So, anyone bring snacks?" Krillin asked.

"Were we supposed to?" Yamcha asked.

"Well, I mean, meeting up like this to welcome Goku back, wouldn't snacks be a good idea?"

Bulma huffed, hands on her hips.

"Well, don't look at me. I offered to cater a party, but Chichi was all 'he should have home cooking when he gets back'."

"Well, that's just true," Chichi defended herself with a bit of bite, "And he can meet our new neighbor, rather than hang out with people who only care about fighting for a career."

"Wait, am I having dinner with you?" 18 asked.

"Well, not tonight, just family, but the point-"

All the Z Fighters looked skyward with a series or shocked expressions. Chichi cut off, and Bulma cursed.

"Well, shit. You sense some kind of epic evil ki, don't you?" Bulma moaned.

"Mr. Piccolo, is that…?"

"Freiza, yes. And he's not alone."

Authors Note:

Another entry that has been burning a hole in my pocket. Basically a bit of Terminator 2 with one of the Androids, meant as a fun project. Hope it is fun to read.

But no dear readers I turn to you. This story has a major hang up, namely do I have Future Trunks appear or not? Trunks was killed in this 18's timeline, but in canon Cell came from a different timeline to Future Trunks, so 18 here witnessing Future Trunks would not be unbelievable.

On one hand no Future Trunks means more divergence too work with and 18 having to try and prepare the Z fighters without directly warning them. Also Goku would still die of the Heart Virus, though i would have her efforts see him live longer than in the Dark Timeline.

On the other hand, Future Trunks would be a natural threat to her and ensure the Androids of this timeline surpass her expectations. 18 would be extra motivated to keep her true identity and nature secret here with the lurking threat of exposure. Goku also would get the future medicine from Trunks ITTL.

Both options are good so I am stuck on which too choose. What do you all think?

Long days and pleasant nights to you all.