Chichi's eye twitched as she took a few minutes to finish chopping up vegetables before she dropped her handiwork into the stew she was preparing. Even now, in the middle of the school day, she could hear them outside waiting for the return of her eldest.

When the news had broken out a few days ago, the regional authorities had cordoned off a zone about ten metres in radius from their house. It was in times like these that she was glad to be the daughter of the Ox King because she wasn't sure that any regular household which found itself at the centre of the public's ire would get such preferential treatment.

The initial crowd had easily been one hundred strong as journalists from every news station - major or local - flocked to the scene. Now it had dwindled to a dedicated few dozen reporters who had taken to staking out their family home. There was generally only one officer left on duty to manage the scene and Chichi had noticed that the time between shifts during which the crowd went unmanned had been gradually creeping up.

It made sense, she supposed. The reporters were respectful enough at most times of the day but they were a real nuisance to deal with whenever she or her boys tried to go outside. They still erupted into a bewildered sea of cameras and microphones every time Gohan took off for school, silver aura flaring around him as he shot through the air and all.

It was frustrating to be pinned within the confines of her own house for Chichi, even though she was probably the one member of the household that didn't go gallivanting off into the forest on a daily basis. She wanted to step out of her house and inhale the fresh mountain air without fear of being held answerable to questions which would only serve to alienate her boys further.

Goten had it the worst of all of them, however. An incident a few days ago in which the journalists proved they weren't above hounding a six-year-old boy for answers had forced Chichi into action and the child had been expressly forbidden from going out to the woods or Capsule Corp. unaccompanied as a result. He hadn't even said a whole lot but Chichi could only imagine that his words about 'Uncle 'Geta' and his older brother had served to corroborate whatever story the press were running with thanks to Videl.

A vein in the corner of her forehead throbbed at the mere thought of the girl. Chichi stirred vigorously at the stew until she was able to let out a loud sigh a few moments later. That hussy! The Ox Princess could hardly believe the nerve of that girl.

She had invited Videl into her home and fed her but evidently, that hadn't stopped the girl from offering up her sweet little Gohan on a plate to the savages outside. Chichi had been willing to overlook the transgressions of her father at first - mostly because the buffoon's lies had actually helped her boys in a roundabout way, disrespect to her late husband aside, and she wasn't her dad - but now it was clear that the apple had not fallen far from the tree. Why, she had half a mind to bulldoze through the crowd outside and commandeer a jet-copter to give those Satans a good piece of her mind.

Although her days as a martial artist were long gone, she was willing to bet that she could have that fraud crying on his knees for mercy within the space of two minutes. Raising two Saiyans had kept her on her toes.

There were three simple things in Chichi's mind that were keeping her feet planted within their dome-shaped residence. First, she didn't want to deal with the pests outside. Second, Gohan would beg and plead with all his might for her to stay out of it - even though she could tell that stupid girl had torn his heart in two and that he was aching because of it. Third, both father and daughter were already receiving their just desserts.

People, humiliated that they had lauded the Satans as heroes for years, were starting to rise up in action against the pair. Chichi had been particularly bemused to note that one news channel was reporting several calls for Satan City to have its former name restored and for the platinum statue of Hercule Satan defeating Cell located in the centre of the city to be struck down.

In some ways, Chichi felt a little sorry for Videl - at least until she remembered that she was the cause of all this. The girl hadn't been involved in her father's ploy to steal unearned glory seven years ago and it seemed that it was her shock at the man's buffoonery that, in some part at least, drove her to tell all to the press. Chichi couldn't tell whether it was stupidity or stubbornness that had caused the girl to implicate her old man as part of the revelation but she didn't particularly care.

"Muuuuum!" exclaimed Goten. "Can I go play outside yet? It's so boring in here!"

"Don't you want to help me cook, sweetie?" Chichi asked. "I'm making a lovely stew for dinner tonight."

Goten shook his head in a resounding 'no'. "I already did that yesterday. And you kept getting mad at me for eating dinner before it was ready, 'member?"

Chichi exhaled loudly and adjusted the setting of the stove before making her way towards her son and kneeling down with her arms placed firmly on his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Goten, but you know you're not allowed to leave the house with all those bad people outside right now."

At her words, he began to pout in an exaggerated fashion. She couldn't help but reflect for the thousandth time that he really was the spitting image of her Goku.

She wilted a little. "Why don't I tell you a story while we're stuck here?"

"You mean it?" he asked, his voice giddy with excitement. It being her second time as a mother, she normally only used stories as a last resort at bedtime to get him to sleep.

"Yeah, I think you'll like this one," she said, picking him up and plopping him down on the counter. "It all started about twenty years ago when your dad and I needed to extinguish the flames on this big mountain…"

…

Vegeta stood atop a stone pillar, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were sealed shut as he felt the wind push back his tall, black hair. All sound was drowned out by the howling winds of the wasteland. Solitude had never felt so good.

He had been getting fed up of the reporters and their constant nagging every time he so much as stepped outside his home. The prince knew he had chosen a good time to leave since he was certain things had only gotten worse. He could sense their feeble ki, gathered in clusters around the familiar energy of his wife. At times, he wished that he could return to assist her but he knew the woman would not take kindly to him blasting the pests to smithereens.

For now, he would have to settle with what he had and let it all play out. It would blow over soon, as human matters often did. It was a shame he could not use the gravity chamber, but sacrifices had to be made.

A few days in the wilderness had not made him as rusty as the approaching newcomer might have believed. Vegeta may have thought the intruder to be a troublesome reporter if not for the speed at which they were travelling and the mere fact that comparing their power level to a journalist was akin to comparing a goldfish to a shark.

"Piccolo," he said, refusing to turn around or, indeed, open his eyes.

"Vegeta... I didn't expect that you would be out here. I could barely believe it when I sensed you," he responded. Vegeta heard his feet hit the ground behind him and his billowing cape cease its flapping.

"Haven't you heard? The Earthlings know everything now," he explained, finally meeting the green warrior's blank stare with a glare of his own. "Saiyans, Dragon Balls, the works."

"Everything? How'd that happen?" Piccolo asked.

"Some idiotic friend of Gohan's apparently couldn't keep her mouth shut. Now I can't train or even spend time with Bulma and the brat until the inhabitants of this planet come to terms with where they really stand."

"I see."

He heard the telltale whoosh of air behind him and immediately lifted his hand to catch Piccolo's fist in midair. He pulled the Namekian toward him and then kicked him to the ground without a second thought.

"Is that all you can do?" he asked, hearing Piccolo hit the ground.

"You really haven't slouched off at all," Piccolo muttered.

Vegeta barked out a laugh. "Did you truly believe that you and I were equals? I've always far surpassed you."

"I seem to remember Android 18 giving you a rough time. Don't forget I was the only one strong enough to go toe to toe with the cyborgs and you needed a whole year in the time chamber just to catch up," he said with a hint of a smirk.

Vegeta grinned. "Are you suggesting a spar?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

"Very well, then. I hope you aren't expecting a victory," Vegeta said. He finally turned, sizing up the Namekian for the first time since he had appeared.

"Don't get too cocky, now," Piccolo warned. He lifted his turban off of his head and tossed it to the ground before removing his weighted cape and discarding it in the same manner.

Vegeta could feel how Piccolo raised his power and scoffed. He didn't dismiss the Namekian's previous request, however. It was a welcome distraction.

Vegeta took first blood, not allowing Piccolo an opportunity to handicap him early on. In a ferocious display of speed, his fist slammed into the Namekian's gut and sent him sprawling. Seizing the opportunity, he followed up by planting a few swift punches on his foe before finishing with a kick that sent Piccolo flying through the air.

Brilliant silver flared around Piccolo as he shot through the air and rushed Vegeta with an ensemble flurry of kicks and fists. A bead of sweat formed on Vegeta's forehead as he moved his arms at impossible speeds to block everything. He slipped up and received a strike to the jaw for his trouble.

He sprung back and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth but Piccolo advanced too quickly for Vegeta to properly nurse his wound. Vegeta grunted and he ignored the throbbing sensation and sprung forward, crashing into Piccolo with a strike to his chest.

The Namekian stumbled backward, his breathing uneven from the blow. As he was still struggling to regain his composure, Vegeta struck him with an elbow to his gut followed by a hook punch to his cheek. Piccolo coughed before glaring at the prince.

"Good to see you aren't going easy on me," he commented.

Vegeta chuckled. "If you wanted to see my full power, you should have said so."

His hair began to glow golden as he ascended into his Super Saiyan form. He grunted in effort while his eyes gradually shifted to blue. A yellowish aura burst out around him, giving off a faint heat that caused sweat to form on Piccolo's forehead.

The Namekian showed no visible surprise, but he did proceed to tighten his stance while clenching a fist. Once the transformation was completed, Vegeta launched himself at Piccolo.

He slipped through the Namekian's guard and slammed a fist into his gut. Piccolo choked as he fell backward, slamming into the ground. With this strike, Vegeta let his power level drop. His hair rested and returned to its natural black and his aura dissipated.

A tinge of satisfaction at his handiwork bubbling to the surface, Vegeta examined Piccolo, finding that he had been knocked completely unconscious due to the previous blow. He left the Namekian to rest and returned to his former position. With his arms crossed, he gazed off into the distance, keeping part of his focus on Piccolo's condition.

When Piccolo finally began to stir, Vegeta glanced over his shoulder. The Namekian rose to his feet, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. He saw Vegeta and chuckled.

"Seems you have surpassed me, after all. Good to see you haven't been slacking on your training," he said.

"If I allowed myself to become as weak as you I wouldn't be able to call myself a Saiyan," Vegeta responded.

Piccolo shook his head at this display of Saiyan pride.

"Now, off with you," Vegeta commanded.

"What, don't want a second round?" Piccolo asked. "Wouldn't have pegged you to be the type to search for inner peace in the mountains."

Vegeta shook his head. "I wasted enough of my time with a weakling like you."

He allowed a smile to form on his lips as he turned away. Saying nothing, he rose into the air and shot off, his white aura leaving a trail in his wake.

Vegeta didn't care to watch him leave. He focused his attention on the horizon, letting his mind drift aimlessly. His wounds began to feel more pronounced, the adrenaline of the fight having worn off. He paid them no heed, however, having dealt with worse.

It had been a while since his last sparring session and he hadn't realised how much he had longed for the thrill of a real fight. At times he wished Kakarot hadn't gone and died to defeat Cell, but he could normally silence his wishes with training in the gravity chamber. Hell, even training his feeble son would do. But here, in solitude, his training was limited.

He decided that he wouldn't mind if Piccolo did indeed decide to return someday. As long as it was for no more than a sparring session.

…

Bulma drummed her fingers on her knees impatiently as she waited with bated breath for the secretary in front of her to allow her passage into the office she guarded with a wireless earpiece and her hair in a bun that would do Chichi proud. The irony was not lost on her.

Bulma Briefs normally wasn't a woman to be kept waiting, but she supposed she could make an exception for the King of Earth. Especially given the events of the last few days.

"His highness will see you now," the secretary finally said. "Uhh… he doesn't like to stick to his schedule, but it really is packed at the moment, so please try not to take too long."

Bulma flashed the woman a smile before proceeding into the office. Schedules be damned. This was something that needed to be sorted out immediately. It had been four days since she had last seen her husband's face and at this rate, things would continue in this vein for months.

"Ah, Mrs. Briefs. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" asked Furry, scratching at greying whiskers with a paw. Bulma quickly realised that he wasn't joking about the 'sore eyes'. "Just the person I've been needing to see."

"Likewise, your highness," she said, bowing awkwardly before fixing her pencil skirt. Was she meant to bow?

"Where do we begin?" asked the king. "We have much to discuss."

"No kidding," snorted Bulma. "How about we start with implementing protection for my friends and family. My home - and my workplace - is a still war-zone."

"What would you have me do?" he asked. "Relinquish freedom of the press? I'd go down as the worst tyrant in generations."

"There's a difference between implementing draconian measures and stopping what is simple harassment at this stage," Bulma said. "Call whoever you need to call and tell them to get their hounds to back off. With all due respect, sir, I'm walking if my son can't even be guaranteed one good night of sleep because of all the weirdos outside recording his every move with infra-red scanners."

"We can arrange for your family to be temporarily relocated to a remote location," Furry offered.

"If they're staking out Mount Paozu, there's no location remote enough. Trust me," said Bulma. "And besides, how am I meant to run my business from a house in the woods? I'm a misplaced breath away from being politely asked to step down from the board because of all the uproar. If it wasn't so hard to line up a one-for-one replacement, I'd be gone already. I'm just counting my lucky stars the suits are scared of turning this stock downturn into a plummet."

Furry took a deep breath and huffed. "I'll do what I can, but you're going to need to work with us in exchange. Begin by telling me your side of the story. I've known about the sacrifices of Son Goku and his role in protecting this planet for years, but I do not know the intricacies or a whole lot about your husband."

"Even I have at least five people who would brief me on such matters," replied Bulma, raising an eyebrow.

"Why trust the word of a teenage girl when I can hear it from the horse's mouth?" Furry asked. "I'm no journalist. Although my role has become increasingly ceremonial, I must maintain order. If I am passive through this, I am afraid the public will finally have the noose that they've been seeking to hang me by for decades."

"Things are that bad, huh?"

"Times were simpler when my ancestor called upon the Eternal Dragon you seem to have become accustomed to. He wished to be the one true king and for his lineage to remain unbroken. I fear that this world has moved past a time for kings and queens, especially ones that are not human," said Furry. "Most of my species cannot walk on two feet let alone lead the world. Nobody dares speak ill to my face but my judgement is frequently questioned behind my back."

"You're concerned about the backlash if you don't take any action, then," said Bulma. "Alright, you see it all started when I hit this weird monkey-tailed kid with my car…"

Bulma recounted everything. Well, mostly everything. She left out the parts about the wish she was originally going to make and her on-again off-again relationship with Yamcha. Also the part about an adolescent version of her son travelling back from a dystopian future to warn them that they would all die. And also how her husband used to be a ruthless murderer who had tried to blow up the planet. Okay, she left out a lot.

"And that's about the gist of it."

"I see," said Furry as he pushed his spectacles up. Bulma noticed that the bridge did not sit on his nose properly due to its unique shape. "It sounds like the public already have a pretty good idea of the truth, then."

"Yes, poor Gohan thought it was all just some harmless fling." Bulma shook her head. "Kid finally found a girl that he liked too."

"Understood," said King Furry as he examined a paw with disinterest. "If it were up to me, I would throw a ceremony in honour of you and your friends. What Goku did for this planet is to be celebrated, not criticised."

"I'm sensing a 'but', your highness," said Bulma.

For the first time that day, a hint of mirth shone through Furry's eyes. "However, the reality of the situation is that I will end up having to pass legislation to appease the citizens of Earth. I will help with the reporter situations at your homes in exchange for Capsule Corp.'s - and in particular, your - cooperation in helping us Earthlings bridge the gap."

"Bridge the gap?" Bulma repeated.

"Yes," said the king. "I am most interested in the advanced technology you have acquired. I know it's private sector work and you'll be appropriately compensated with patents, trademarks and funds - if you so desire - but you have knowledge of information that would reap a great benefit to society if it were publicised, or at least shared with the government. We could work on improving the Earth's defences so that we would not be so helpless in the face of another Cell or King Piccolo incident. I would also like to improve the quality of our space programs."

"That's reasonable enough," said Bulma. "What else?"

"I would like you to take on a research and development role within the military," he said. "I understand that you are a busy woman, so it would be a couple hours of work a week at most and you could work from home, but I am keen to explore the uses of this thing you call 'ki.'"

"You mean weaponise it?" asked Bulma.

Furry bowed his head a little. "Yes-"

"No, that's fine. I don't have a problem with weapons," said Bulma. "My husband is literally a living weapon."

"Then, yes, the intent would be to eventually weaponise it," said Furry. "Bullet holes didn't make a dent in Cell, after all. I would also like to explore its other uses, as well."

"There are quite a few, but it would be difficult for any human to learn," said Bulma. "I am also not too keen on surrendering such information to the government and the government only. See, I know that the Saiyans and the rest of my friends have no interest in misusing their abilities but we both know that is not true of the entire government."

"Point taken," said Furry. "I do not have any quarrels with such information being made accessible to the wider public. Although there are those who would use such knowledge and power for nefarious purposes, I believe there are also those like your friends would use it for good. I do not want to sell ki-based weapons over the counter, however, for obvious reasons."

"I'll have to think about it. A decision like this would have so many repercussions that I do not have the right to make it on my own."

…

Videl admired the blue sky ahead of her as she piloted a yellow plane through the clouds. She hadn't done this for a long time. Or at least since she had revealed everything to the press. She figured returning to her previous pastime would be a good way to clear the mind.

Her police scanner had informed her of a robbery not too far from her current location and - although she found it odd that the chief hadn't called her in for this one - she was making her way toward it as fast as her plane could soar.

She touched down on a nearby rooftop and made her way to the jewellery store that was the scene of the ongoing crime, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she kicked the front door in and leaped inside the store.

Videl caught an unsuspecting criminal by surprise, sweeping his feet out from beneath him before putting him down with a forceful elbow to his nose. Having now lost the element of surprise, she threw herself behind a nearby counter to avoid a storm of bullets that must have at least been three rounds large.

She peaked up to survey the situation. There were a few cops lying motionlessly on the ground as blood pooled onto the mosaic beneath them while others were still trading bullets. The rifles that the robbers were carrying seemed like something the Red Shark Gang would normally use but balaclavas normally weren't a part of their M.O.

This was bad. By the looks of it, the body count would easily exceed a dozen if it hadn't already. Why hadn't the Chief called her in?

She shook her head. She needed to let go of all that and focus on the task at hand - namely, minimising casualties and making sure that every crook within a fifty foot radius of the store would be counting stars when they woke up in the morning.

The teenage crimefighter carefully proceeded through cover until she was within arm's reach of another cop.

"Videl," he said, surprised to see her.

"What's the situation here?" she asked without missing a beat. "I took a guy out near the entrance but somehow I feel he was the least of your worries."

"We're dealing with a team that's at least 10 strong," answered her superior. "We know at least some of the weapons are military-grade and these assholes are also decked out in body armour. No customers but the staff are being held in a room at the back - we thought it was safe to enter but we really underestimated what we were dealing with."

"I'll say," said Videl, cursing to herself. "I'm going to try something. Cover me just in case, okay?"

Without waiting for her fellow police officer to respond, Videl charged towards the thug decked out with the most gear. He raised his rifle towards her and shot thrice, others watching in anticipation with their own guns prepared to join in. A surge of adrenaline burst from Videl's core, through her knee-caps and finally out the soles of her feet and suddenly, Videl was airborne.

She used the added momentum from her manoeuvre to soar through the sky, a few bullets that had joined those of thug harmlessly tearing through the air beneath her, and clock her target clean on the temple. As she came to a halt, he crumpled onto the ground beside her, out cold. "Thank you Gohan…"

Videl turned around to realise that her little stunt had attracted the attention of everybody in the room. All eyes were on her. "Oh shit."

And then, all hell broke loose.

The remaining police officers took the opportunity to take out who they could while the robbers collectively fired at her. She jumped higher this time, almost touching the ceiling, but the thugs had been expecting that. Bullets grazed her limbs as she attempted some mid-air acrobatics to duck and weave around them but one pierced her thigh and she fell to the ground like a sack of bricks.

…

This chapter was brought to you by Kakarot Son and WTBB501.

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