The android looked up at the second floor window of the Briefs home. He was going to drop by for a visit, but everyone seemed to be asleep. All except for the room that was currently lit up. He flew up to look through it. His eyes rested on the figure.
Trunks took his shirt off, revealing the results of several years of training. Android 17 leaned in closer to watch his prey. The Saiyan had always been his favorite. His purple hair, his courage and pride to be able to even look 17 in the eyes. He was just addicted to this kid, if he were to be honest.
He loved a challenge. And truth be told, this boy was a challenge. Trunks stretched, walking towards the bathroom with a towel and change of clothes. Taking his advantage, 17 slid easily in through the window. He looked around at Trunks' room. A computer, a desk, a bed. How ordinary…. How….
"Nice…" 17 spun around and around in the computer chair, humming silently to himself. Pictures of his family sat on the desk. He didn't have any pictures like this.
He stood, walking towards them. He picked up one in particular. It was of Trunks and Gohan. Must be from his time line. Gohan and Trunks were at a park. They looked so happy. It must've been before he and his sister killed Gohan. And ruined his life.
The android heard the shower stop running. In a panic, he quickly placed the picture onto the desk, and flew out the window. He hoped that Trunks hadn't noticed his presense. He realized too late that he had left the window open.
Trunks walked into the room, shuddering at the chill coming from his open window. Did he leave it open? He shut the window, closing the curtains. He turned to face his desk, shutting down his computer. That's odd. He thought. One picture was face down on the desk. Someone was in his room.
Walking along the dark sidewalk, 17 stared at the sky in thought. It was so weird how quickly these humans came back after their rein of terror. It was like it never happened. His sister had a daughter, with a z fighter for crying out loud. But, it was nice. The calm, the thought of a normal life was nice. Maybe he should think about his life. Getting a job, maybe even a family. He shuddered at the thought. No, he was not ready for that!
Suddenly, a high pitched cry came from an alley to his right. He turned on his heel, running in the direction of the noise. A bundle lay on the ground, next to the bloody body of a young woman. Maybe 20 or so. Death was caused by gun shots. Her purse lie on the ground, emptied onto the dirty ground. Kneeling down, he picked the bundle up.
He moved the blanket slightly; he knew what this was. His gut seemed to drop. The baby wailed, tears streaming down its cheeks. It appearred to be unharmed, aside from the mental trauma that this probably caused. It continued to screech, it's voice slightly hourse. His, 17 corrected. For a while, he just stared at the baby. He began to rock it, bouncing it slightly.
"Shh… shh. It's all right. "17 froze. What should he do with him? Should he take him to the police? That wouldn't be a good idea. The cops would find her body. And he would probably be blamed. He sighed. "I'm here. Don't cry…" He walked away, taking the baby Andrew with him.