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

...

The renovations were starting to look pretty damn good, Gohan had to admit to that.

He had opted to build the new dojo right where the old one had once stood, before the flames had consumed it and turned it to ashes. Gohan felt that it would be the best place. In his mind it was almost symbolic; like a phoenix rising from its ashes and blooming into new life. Perhaps it was corny, but that didn't matter to him. Just seeing his hard work paying off once more was all the satisfaction that he needed.

The structure of the building resembled the old dojo. He wasn't really one to stray from the old formula, so he saw no reason to fix what wasn't broken. He would, however, have the inside renovated with loads of new equipment now that he could afford it. Gohan had been smart enough to close off an insurance deal even before the old dojo went into business. When it had burned to the ground, the amount of money that had been paid out could've easily been mistaken for a phone number.

Happy that everything was going the way he liked to see it, Gohan walked away from the construction site. He was about two blocks away from the place where most of his administration happened and he thought it might be wise to pay it a visit, even if it was just to have some small talk with Erasa. The blonde had been left to her own devices for some time now and Gohan was sure she would love a chance to interact with some people other than those mindless, underdressed girls she called her friends. The potted plant in the corner wasn't exactly pleasurable company.

Sure enough, the girl beamed at him from the very moment he stepped through the automatic doors. It was pleasantly cool inside, the AC humming steady. Gohan walked over to the counter and couldn't resist tapping the little gold bell perched on top of it, making Erasa giggle.

"Hey Gohan," she said, smiling wide. "How've things been?"

"Pretty good!" Gohan said enthusiastically. "The new dojo should be done in a week or two, so that means we can get out of the forest really soon." Not that Gohan minded training in nature at all; he was a mountain boy at heart. it was just that his students seemed to be taking a life away from luxury pretty hard.

"Oh cool!" Erasa cheered. "That means I can finally go out shopping with Videl again on the weekends. But don't tell her I said that, or else she'll never leave that mountain and live as a recluse for the rest of her life."

Gohan laughed at that. "Do you think so? She might not be one to enjoy putting on dresses all day, but I don't think she enjoys sleeping in the mud all that much either."

There was a bit of a silence between them, but Erasa piped up with something quite remarkable.

"Oh, I forgot to mention," the blonde said, "A man came by here two days ago. He asked to see you."

"Oh? Did you happen to get his name?"

"Eh no," Erasa admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "He just asked where he could find you, but when I told him that I couldn't say that, he just left. All he wanted me to tell you was that he would be looking for you."

Gohan scrunched his eyebrows together. "Okay, strange. What did he look like?"

Erasa tapped a pencil to her chin, digging in her memory. "he had these really weird goggles on, with red lenses in them. And he had this really long braid as well, it almost came to his kneecaps."

Gohan didn't recognize anyone by that description. "Hmmh, well if he comes by again give him the address to where the dojo is being built. If he still wants to meet me you can tell him I will be there the whole day on Saturday, two weeks from now."

Erasa wrote all of that down on the notepad in front of her. "Okidoki, will do."

After that, Gohan had to leave. It was time to get back to the training site and see if he could help wherever needed. He might not have a student on his hands at the moment, but that didn't mean he was just going to sit around.

He just wished that something exciting would happen soon. He could really use it.

Mark brushed the branches of an old tree aside, careful to not let it swat him in the face. Going through these dense woods was hard work, but he had to persevere. He was on a mission and he would damned if he didn't complete it.

It had been two days since Mark had left the training camp. That also meant that he had been travelling for two whole days and that was really starting to get to him. He had gotten the off chance to nap a bit on a bus ride here and there, but he hadn't gotten more than four hours of shut-eye ever since he had started his journey. If he could look at himself in the mirror now the bags under his eyes would likely terrify him.

Mark wanted to just drop himself down and dream of nothing for the next fifteen hours, but of course that was not option. Not now that he had decided to go rogue and play the hero. He had a responsibility now, a quest to finish. And that mission was leading him deeper into these woods, with nothing ahead but more trees and shrubs.

The boy groaned when one of the branches he was pushing aside slipped from his hands. The damn thing smacked him across the cheek, leaving the skin chafed and raw. That wasn't the only annoyance that the forest brought along. There was also the tangled tree roots that he kept tripping over, as well as the mess of pine needles that made his hair look like a bird's nest. If he ever got done with this he would dedicate his life to mowing down every tree in existence. See if they enjoyed being notebooks, those damn wooden bastards.

Walking around like this gave him some much needed time to reflect on his journey, though. Mark had started off in the heart of the city that carried his last name. There he had undergone a transformation. Gone were the long raven strands that he and his sister almost used as a trademark. he had sat in the barber's chair and watched as the hairdresser stripped him from the mane he once prided himself for. When he finally had the crew cut down he had gone and given it another colour, a very light shade of blonde.

When all was done at the hairdresser, Mark had gone to one of those fun shops that sold horrible April's Fools articles. Somewhere in the back he had found dozens of contact lenses in every colour that he could imagine. He had opted for the green ones. When he had put them in and found a mirror to study himself, it startled him to see how much he looked like the Golden Warriors from the Cell Games. Sure, it was what he had aimed for, but the resemblance was uncanny. Just seeing his own reflection made him feel beyond powerful.

After he had done everything he could to change his looks, to 'wash the Satan off' as he called it in his mind, Mark had gone to the nearest ATM machine. He had held his breath throughout the entire transaction, but luck was on his side that day. his father hadn't blocked his account, or at least not yet. The thick stacks of cash that rolled out of the machine were hastily put in the duffle bag that he kept on his shoulder. After that he snapped his ATM card in half. he had no use for it from then on.

The letter that Mark had burned before his father's eyes contained an address. The address to this General's house. Mark had memorized it and had made it his destination. It wasn't too far away from Satan City, much to his surprise. It had taken him about a day to get there by public transport.

When he had finally found the house, Mark had wasted no time knocking politely. He had kicked the door in without the littlest bit of hesitation, tearing the wood from its hinges and watching it fly halfway across the hall. Some part of Mark had expected this General to look up from plate of lasagna and away from his six o'clock TV show, but the house had been vacant. not just devoid of life and devoid of furniture. All that he could find was a pile of unopened letters next to the mail slot.

It had been a decoy address. Wherever this General was residing, it certainly wasn't here. But if he was getting his mail on this address, then he would have to come by sooner or later to pick it up. Mark thought it best to sit and wait. If not for the General, then for the person who ran his errands. Mark reckoned that a man like him would like to keep out of the limelight as much as he could.

Mark had been right about that. A boy of about his age had entered the house that very evening. Mark had been sitting around the door to the living room, sunken through his knees and ready to pounce. One the kid was bent over to collect the pile of envelopes, Mark had jumped him and wrestled him to the floor with ease.

After beating the unnamed kid bloody just enough, Mark had managed to pry the General's actual address out of him. he had to hand it to the guy, though; it had taken him a full twenty minutes of smashing and hammering before he got the information that he needed. When he had been informed enough, Mark had left, making his way to the forest he was currently plowing through.

He should be getting close now, Mark thought. These woods were silent and devoid of most lifeforms. A freaking house would have to stand out in some way or shape.

Much to the boy's chagrin it took at least three more hours before he found something worthwhile. If he hadn't been staring at his own feet he would've missed it completely. The sky was turning dark above him, making it even harder to make anything out.

Hidden beneath a pile of dead leaves was a door. It was painted a vague colour of green, most likely done so to have it blend in with the surrounding environment. Mark had no doubt that this was the place where he had to be. Sinking through his knees, Mark forced the door open and went inside.

It was a small drop down, just far enough so that he could still see the forest floor reach up to his chin. Now he stood in hallway so slim that he had to work his way through facing sideways. By the time he reached the next room his back was sore.

The adjacent room was much larger, though. He could stand upright here and his body thanked him for that. He tried to look around, but all the could see were the outlines of towers of papers scattered throughout the space. There was no one there. Mark gulped. If this General wasn't here he was likely already on his way to the training site. Perhaps the best thing he could do was get out of here and contact Gohan.

Yes, that seemed like the smartest plan. Given that the side table was layered with dust at least a week old it was clear that no one had been there for quite some time. Mark hurried his way out of the building. This had just turned into a race against time and for now he was on the losing end.

Maybe there was no way to win this, but the least he could do was warn everyone up front. But in order to do that he would have to get out of the forest first, to a place where he would have a proper cellphone signal. And even then he would have to pray that either Gohan or Videl would have their cellulars on their person. If they didn't he would really have to haul ass.

And then the clock in his mind started its countdown. All that he could do was not make it the final one.

...

Hercule twiddled his thumbs, twitching slightly as he stared at the phone lying in his lap. His jaw was clenched a little, his posture stiff, as he watched the television mounted on the wall in front of him.

Unfortunately, the other dojo in town was beginning to rebuild. Like ants scurrying to rebuild an ant hole that had just been crushed. After the place had burned down, the number of students transferring from his own dojo to that other one had rapidly dwindled - very few people finding the idea of flying out all the way to some remote territory that formerly belonged to the Ox-King appealing. A few had even come back to him.

Not Videl, though. Or Mark. No, there was something in that stupid place, full of dishonourable 'martial artists' who didn't respect the traditional ways, that those two saw. Hercule had spent a fair amount of time trying to decipher just what it was that they found so intriguing, even going so far as to dabble in the use of 'Ki' as they had called it, but the champ had come up with nothing. There was nothing special about any of it; at the end of the day they were nothing more than fancy light tricks that packed a bit of punch.

Nothing that a gun couldn't do better. Ki, Hercule had concluded, had absolutely nothing to do with martial arts other than the fact that it provided a wall for those who were too scared to dedicate their lives to fighting the way he had to stand behind.

It was a little ironic that burning down the dojo had brought more media attention to it, now that it was beginning to rebuild. Hercule supposed that it didn't do much for the dojo's reputation but it was the very principle of having somehow helped the enemy that rubbed him the wrong way.

He stared at the glass of whiskey sitting to the side of him, the liquid almost tempting him with a coppery glint. He fought his temptation to indulge in the alcohol, reasoning that very soon it would all be over. Videl would come crawling back to him eventually and Mark… well to be honest, he didn't really care what happened to that boy at the moment. Definitely not after the ungrateful words that he, his own son, had been all too willing to stab like a dagger into Hercule's unsuspecting heart.

It was with a weary eye that held the slightest promise of triumph that Hercule watched as the news program explained that old students were expected to return to the dojo by the end of the week and that new ones were welcome to join from the following week onwards.

Unacceptable.

...

The easiness with which the stream seemed to move along unnerved her. It did not at all reflect how she felt on the inside. Videl's mind was a raging thunderstorm as she sat at the edge of the water, seeing her own eyes stare back at her from the rippling aqua.

The girl heaved a sigh and buried her face in her palms. She did not know what to do. She had been this upset ever since the conversation she had shared with her brother two days prior. She had acted like a role model of a sister, gracing Mark with all the yesses that she could force over her lips. She had told him that she would let him do what he had to do, let him possibly endanger himself for both of their sakes. She had swallowed her pride at that moment and now it was burning like a hot, glowing coal inside her stomach.

The worst of it all was her ignorance. She couldn't guess what Mark was doing if her life depended on it. All she did know was that her brother was risking his own safety right this very moment. He was putting his life on the line for her, for Gohan, for all of them, and there was no way that Videl could find out how. Even knowing what he was up to might aid her, but of course Mark had decided not to let her in on his secret. That's the way he had always been, even when they were little kids. In Mark's mind this was probably just like the time that he had been smoking cigarettes in secret; nobody was allowed to know, Videl most of all. The only difference was that this time he could actually die.

Videl's giggles were muffled into the palm of her hands. She didn't know if they were the product of all the silliness that seemed to envelop her, or her quiet rage, but she still laughed anyway. She needed to laugh. It was very much possible that she wouldn't have a reason to smile soon.

The girl's hands trailed off as much as her thoughts. She was unaware of how she was plucking grass from the soil around her. All her eyes registered were the blades drifting in the afternoon wind and landing on the water, creating ripples so tranquil that they made her want to fall asleep.

Noting that that would be a good idea, Videl sprawled herself out, spread-eagle, in the sea of green that threatened to swallow her. The grass tickled her cheeks and she felt herself relaxing. She managed to stare up at the sky and not fall asleep, hard as it may have been. No matter how much she wanted to shut her eyes and dream of nothing, her mind would not allow her to.

She still had far too much to think about.

Her father was up to something. Something big. Her sense of reasoning told her that whatever Mark was doing held relations to the man that had brought them into this world. He had not given mention of it, but of that much she was sure. Daddy had done a terrific job of destroying his own children's trust in him, Mark most of all. That in turn made Videl wonder just what her father was planning on, if it was able to bring Mark's life into jeopardy. She had played that particular guessing game before, to no avail. No matter how she crunched the numbers, analyzed the data, a conclusion was impossible to reach.

Clouds drifted by, once again painting a stark contrast with the girl lying in the field. Videl did not like the train of thought she was riding at this moment. She knew damn well that it was going to get her angry. It was only a matter of time.

A single word kept flashing inside her brains like an emergency alarm, comparable to one of those cartoons where giant screens blare on about a nuclear meltdown. Her own power plant was about blow up; she could feel the throbbing at her temples. That same word just wouldn't stop plaguing her, those simple six letters.

Father.

The man who whispered to her that he loved her every single day of her existence. The man who had raised her after her mother had passed away. The man who had given up everything to be able to provide for his children when they most needed it.

That man was a filthy liar.

She had no doubt that Hercule loved her to bits. The way he seemed to push everything that she liked away from her was the proof of that. Granted, she mostly liked things that threatened her life, but her father would do whatever was in his power to harness her safety. True enough, Hercule had also raised his children on his own, not with the help of an outside party. A part of Videl still admired him for that. For several years Hercule had given up all the he could offer, just so that his children could eat and extra slice of bread in the morning and brush their teeth with a proper brand, not store bought. Of course that had changed when he had reached fame, but that had always seemed like a natural thing to her. She couldn't expect him to be around all the time when he was providing for her and her brother, and it wasn't like she was missing out on anything. She now had a maid to help her with her homework and to cook her dinner. She would now get every present that she could ever wish for. Up until three months ago she would have said that she lived the perfect life, aside from the occasional strife with Mark.

Too bad that she had been living a fallacy.

Nothing about her life was in the least bit true. Her father had lied and cheated his way to greatness, blind to the consequences that were tied to it all. He did not have any regard for possible outcomes. All that he cared about was the attention of the crowd, the cameras flashing and capturing his every move, the money that seemed to be pouring in faster than he was able to spend it.

Not once had he given thought to what might happen if the truth arose. Hercule hadn't stood still for one single second to the consequences of his actions, nor who it might affect if everything was to blow up in his face. He had no sense of decency about it. He could not even give the credit where it was due.

Videl, now aggravated, sat upright and grumbled to herself. She began plucking from the grass again, this time with an aggression that she didn't know she had within herself. Clumps of soil came loose, showering her legs in dirt and debris. She could feel tears burning but refused to let them fall, looking at the mess she was making of herself through watery eyes.

Daddy hadn't defeated Cell, she reflected as she flung a ball of dirt into the river. The thing crashed and shattered the surface, drops glistening in the air like the tears Videl was forcing back. Her father had lied the last seven years together with such an ease that it seemed like a second nature. And everyone believed it. No one questioned Hercule's ability to destroy the most fearsome monster to ever threaten the planet. Everyone just assumed that he had done the job, even after hearing that Cell had decimated the entire national army in one fell swoop. it was as if no one cared to look into it further.

No one acknowledged the true hero that saved them all that day. They did not even know his name, or not his real one at least. They had stuck that ridiculous label on him, Delivery Boy. It was pathetic to know that a warrior of such prowess, someone who was able to defeat Cell at the tender age of eleven, maybe twelve, would be forgotten in the annals of history, replaced by her very own father, a goofy asshole with a porno moustache and frazzy afro.

The last clump of earth made it all the way across the stream, falling down in the grass across from it with a dull thud. Videl fell back, unable to contain her tears now. She was living the life that Gohan should be leading. The guilt of it tore her insides to shreds and there was nothing that she could do to change it. Even if she did confront her father, it wouldn't change a damn thing. And if she made it public she would also become an outcast, stamped as a pariah for actions she had never even committed.

She cried until there were no more tears to spill. It was all too much on her. Her father's lies, her brother's recklessness, all of it. And she couldn't talk about it to anyone. The only person she considered worthy of her sadness was Gohan, but the boy had left early in the morning, claiming that he had business to take care of. If he had been here she could have used his shoulder to cry on, but in his absence all that remained was to lay in the grass and wallow in her self-pity.

"What's the matter, angel face?" A voice rose her from her musings. Videl wiped the tears from her eyes with her arm, sitting up to glare at whoever had to nerve to disrupt her moment of emotional breakdown. Seventeen was sitting on the riverbank, half a smile on his face and his normally cold eyes expressing something that her messed up mind read to be pity. Anger swelled up inside of her, unjust as it may have been.

"What?" Videl bit at him. She glared at him through her fingers, not wanting to look at him directly.

"Now now," Seventeen chuckled. "Easy on the attitude, Missy. I haven't done anything wrong."

True enough, but she wasn't going to let him off easy being in this mood. "You called me angel face."

"Did I now?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Ah well, it's the truth."

Videl felt the heat rising to her cheeks, but she couldn't distinguish whether it was from embarrassment or anger. "Why are you here?" She hoped that the hostility in her voice made him want to back off, but she knew all too well that her hope was idle. She knew her Sensei longer than today.

"Well I was looking for my pupil and wanted to see if she was up for some training, we've been taking far too much leisure time lately," Seventeen said, "But instead of finding her all ready to deal some blows I see her lying in the grass and crying of reasons I don't know about." He counted this on his fingers as if it were some mathematical equation. Videl felt mocked.

"Well it's none of your damn business," she layered her voice with all the venom that she could muster. "So how about you back off of my case and let me cry for a while. Girls do that, you know."

"Yeah, but you're not just any girl," Seventeen quipped. "You're Videl Satan, certified badass and anything but a crier."

"Don't you dare dictate me on what I can and can't do," Videl huffed. "Would you please go away? I'm not in the mood for any of your training today."

"Nope, can't do that," Seventeen said, teasing. "I won't go until you've landed a punch on me. It looks like you could use the release." Seventeen rose from the grass and trotted over to his student, a hand outstretched. Videl batted it away and gave him the angriest glare that she could force onto her face.

"Good, good," Seventeen commented. "But not good enough. Get real angry with me. I can't feel enough hate yet. C'mon." He did a weird kind of two-step, obviously meant to amuse her, but all it did was piss her off, just the way he wanted it to turn out. Videl was doubting between giving him his way and just hailing punches down on that pretty boy face of his and walking away. The former seemed like the more attractive option, but the only issue was that there was no way in hell that she could get near him if he decided to avoid her.

"What is up with you today?" Videl said. "Normally all you do is bitch at me like I'm some kind of stray dog. What's with the jolly attitude?"

"No idea," Seventeen replied. "Just in a good mood, I guess. Now get up off the ground and fucking punch me already."

"Do I really have to?"

"Yes you do," Seventeen flashed her a smirk that made her insides turn to water for some reason. "If not for you, do it for me," there was that teasing tone again. "It's been too long since I've had a proper beating."

"Goddamnit Seventeen, I told you to knock it off!" Now she was angry, just the way he wanted it. Fine, if he desired to get his face busted that bad, she would be delighted to give him his wish. She got up too, dusting off her legs, and took a fighting stance.

She didn't warn him but rather just wailed at him. Her fist went right for his face, that stupid, smiling and annoyingly handsome face, and missed. Seventeen just tipped his head to the side like a dog interested in something. Videl tried to bring the blow back around, aiming for his temple. Seventeen ducked low and followed with a jump to avoid the kick aimed at his legs.

"That's a lot better!" Seventeen remarked. "You can do better though. Try to concentrate your anger. Don't just hit around blindly but focus every bit of rage into a single point." He tapped his nose. "Like here, for example."

Videl groaned as she swung and missed again. She charged as much Ki as she could into her blows and by the fourth consecutive punch she was tired. But that didn't stop her. On the contrary, every missed attack fueled her with a rage that she didn't know she possessed, giving her new wind.

"Fantastic! Marvelous!" Seventeen laughed, amusement on his face. "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you're pretty when you're angry?"

"STOP CALLING ME PRETTY!"

"But you are," Seventeen smiled as he stepped aside from a kick to the stomach. For a second Videl actually believed his words, but then shrugged. He didn't think of her that way; if he did he wouldn't tease her so relentlessly. "I feel like I could almost kiss you."

"DON'T JOKE ABOUT THAT!" Videl had Seventeen pinned against a tree now. There was no escape for him, no way out. She threw a punch filled with every little bit of power that she could find. Her fist made contact, but not with Seventeen's face. Her knuckles smashed into the tree, boring a hole the size of a softball in its trunk. Seventeen was gone.

"Wh-what?!"

"I don't joke about that..." She heard her Sensei's voice, the sound of it but a whisper. Videl turned on her heels and saw him. She wanted to make a move, but before she knew it Seventeen had her hands pinned above her head.

She stared into his eyes, losing herself in that icy cold blue that at times could mirror her own. She was mesmerized, unable to move. Their noses were almost touching, their faces only inches from each other. She could actually feel his breath on her face, warm as an autumn breeze.

"S-Seventeen? Wh-What did you just say?" Videl mumbled the words, her reasonable sense of speech lost somewhere in the deep blue of Seventeen's eyes. His breath smelled of mint, she reflected, a lemony kind with a hint of sweetness. Why she was thinking this, she didn't know. But she did not want him to back off either. In fact, although she may never admit it to herself, she was hoping for the opposite.

"I said I never joke about that..." A tinge of red creeped over her Sensei's cheeks, drawing a stark contrast to the pale milkiness of his skin. The sight of it immobilized her even more, as if she wasn't feeling rigid enough. Her back was pressed against the tree, holding her in place.

"J-Joke about what?" Videl questioned. She wanted to say more, but the words never got over her lips.

"About this..." Seventeen gave her a stare so intense that she would've dropped to the ground if he hadn't been holding her up. Then, without warning, he moved his face forward, catching her by surprise. His lips touched hers, softly at first. His kiss was almost gentle and shy, but it lifted her off her feet with ease, making her soar at the sensation.

Seventeen pulled back, his face flushed. Neither one of them said a word. Neither one of them moved. They just looked at each other, silent as the grave. The ecstasy of the kiss hung around them, almost palpable.

Videl wanted to say something to him, the man who had robbed her of her very first kiss. Yet no words would leave her. There was no way to describe how she felt, not even if she tried.

But she did move, however. She closed the gap between them, locking lips with Seventeen once again. She had the upper-hand this time and she'd be damned if he didn't know it. She kissed him roughly, savoring that hint of sweetness that she had smelled on his breath before.

She opened her mouth a little, just enough to free her tongue of its prison. Seventeen picked up on this and reciprocated. All thoughts left her then and there.

When she finally pulled back, she felt like heaven.

Seventeen, however, looked stupefied. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he voiced himself before she could.

"T-This was a mistake. I have to go."

And then he just upped and left, with no words to spare. Videl could only stare at his back while he walked away, slumping against the tree trunk.

What the hell had just happened?

...