Author's Note: This chapter is mainly for the purpose of answering questions the reader might have, and showing a glimpse of my ability to weave things together...

Inrandel awoke the next morning face down in a comfortable bed. It was just a dream. Thank God. He went to turn his head and to look at the clock but found he couldn't move. From what he could see, the walls where an odd gray colour. He wasn't in Kansas (or Long Island) anymore.

"Oh my, he's awake."

"Good work, Mr. Popo. I'll let Tyrael know."

Had Inrandel any control of his body, he would have been bolt upright at hearing those voices. He had to be going insane. Mr. Popo? Wasn't he from that show Dragon Ball or something? And hadn't he played a game with a Tyrael? What in the Nine Hells was happening? And why couldn't he move?!

A familiar voice resounded around him. "Awake, Warrior, your training begins today." Inrandel felt his body being lifted. He spun around and beheld Mr. Popo himself. He was not alone, Dendei was beaming back at him, staff in hand, and Tyrael was floating in the door, apparently controlling Inrandel's motion.

"It's truly an honour to have you here, sir. Everyone is very anxious to meet you."

Screw you.

"I understand your frustration, Inrandel, you will be able to ask any questions you like, and to move around, when we have entered the Hyperbolic Time Chamber." Tyrael was making his usual bad attempt at easing Inrandel.

Shit!

Inrandel looked about as much he could. It was the Observation Tower, exactly as he had seen it in those shows. This was much creepier than he needed anything to be, ever. He rounded a corner floating behind Tyrael and found a gaggle of people waiting for him. He was perhaps the most shocked he had ever been (which, might I add, was quite an accomplishment) when he saw who those people were. Goku, Vegeta, Krillian, Trunks, Piccolo, Goten, Gohan, and an entire mess of people whom he had watched on T.V. there, apparently for him.

"Hey, I look forward to training with you!" Goku was waiving energetically in Inrandel's direction. This caused Inrandel to once again, critically re-examine everything that was happening so far. He made a mental checklist. So far he had been ripped from his home town, planet, and as far as he knew, universe, been transformed into something, been told it was up to him to stop some invisible evil something, and was now in a T.V. show about to be trained by fictional characters.

Goody.

He floated about in Tyrael's wake through corridors and passages, with the Z-Fighters in his wake. He assumed they were headed for the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, which frightened him very much. He knew from the show that this was not going to be fun. Extra gravity, a plane of nothingness, it sounded like a blast.

They approached a door, and it opened seamlessly. Had Inrandel control over his lungs he would have been breathing very, very heavily. He was frightened. Inrandel floated inside and was set down facing the empty expanse. Tyrael went in front of him materialized a chair out of nothingness - a high-backed chair - and sat down. He materialized a smaller one for Inrandel, and Inrandel found himself sitting.

"You may ask your questions. You can move your mouth and vocal cords, and can breathe now. I suggest you take a few moments to get used to yourself."

Slowly, Inrandel began to test his breathing. The first few times he almost exploded his chest as he tried to control his now much-stronger chest muscles. After a few moments the instinct took over and he could breath easily. Inrandel stopped to rest. He could hear his own breathing, the rustle of his clothes, the heartbeat sounds of those behind him, the sounds of their own breathing.

Their heartbeats? How can I hear that?

That wasn't all. As he focused on his senses, he slowly became aware of a sixth sense. He could feel the other people in the room. He slowly began to discern their... signatures. If he had been able to spin his head around, he could have identified who belong to which signature. As he focused on each individual frequency, he realized he could feel some of them out there, in the nothingness. It was all very faint, but they were there.

Oh well, in order to get answers, I have to ask questions. Here goes.

He slowly started to work his mouth, careful to get used to his new found body. When he felt comfortable, he tried to speak. His first attempts were horrible, but soon he could get the words out.

His first question was obvious. "Why me?"

"Because you are the strongest being in the known multi-verse, or rather, you have the potential to be. Everyone's power is limited by their potential, it's merely a matter of unlocking it. The Powers managed to unlock a portion of yours, it should be enough to get you started. Your missions and your own training time will get you the rest of the way. Suffice to say, you have the most potential, you could even become the first fifth level Saiyan."

"Fifth level?"

"You are aware of the steps of ascension. Super, Ascended, Transcended, Transformed, Ultimate. You have the potential to reach the fifth level."

"How will I learn?"

"Those eager people behind you will be your guides."

"What about my family, my friends, my life? What happens when this is all over?"

"You can go wherever you like when you're not preoccupied, back to your school if you want, but you don't have to. Everything will be taken care of when your assignment is over, and you will be duly rewarded."

"This doesn't make sense. I was human until a short while ago. I'm not a Saiyan."

"You are. It makes sense. Think about it. You've never been any good in any sport except the martial arts, you always seem hungry for no reason, you could never sleep on your back, and let's talk about your birth. You know how risky it was, what happened during your mothers pregnancy with you. Are you willing to tell me that, despite all of these difficulties, you were still born perfectly healthy?"

"What is this place?"

"One of the verses. Number 3, actually. It's very stable. The higher verses are very unstable. This is a separate universe from the show. Infact, the show is comprised of sub-conscious memories transmitted across the barriers. You see, there are many people who can tap into the multiverses energies, even if they don't know it. What they think is their imagination is actually memories of events that have happened, or can happen. Space-Time is not limited by linear time."

"What other shows are like this?"

"You'll see."

"What do I have to do?"

"Fight."

"Let's get started."

"As is your wish, hero." If a faceless angel could smile, then Tyrael certainly did. "Your movement is now restored. Start with your fingers, then arms, etc. Do not look at yourself until you've had the time to adjust."

In the next 20 minutes, much to the impatience of those behind him, Inrandel learned to move again. Flexing muscles individually, Inrandel kept the spasms to a minimum and gained something like control. Slowly, cautiously, Inrandel stood up, and then walked around. Everyone was watching him closely, attentively. He scanned everyone, getting a fix for their signatures. He could tell that Vegeta, Goku, Piccolo, Gohan, and what felt kind of like Trunks had been in that room before by their lingering presence.

Inrandel next made the mistake of looking at himself. At first he looked at mirror he had walked up to. His face looked more or less the same. Perhaps the bones were more defined. His hair was definitely different. It was jet-black, and was much more closely cropped around the sides, and only seemed to have substance on top of his head, where it was more-or-less a round mass of hair except for two little juts coming out over his forehead, the smaller on top of the larger.

Inrandel looked over his body. He was startled, and could barely believe it was, infact, his body. He was just as tall as he had been, but instead of an overweight Irish kid, he was lean, very lean, and muscular. He was very well defined as far as he could see, very well.

Looking at his clothes, Inrandel was rather shocked. He was wearing a blue, one piece gi, much like those worn by the Z-Fighters. On his left breast was the symbol for his martial arts system, he had no doubt that it would be on his back as well. Underneath his gi was a red shirt, the whole thing was actually very comfortable, and he was sure that it would allow maximum flexibility.

Holding the entire thing together was a black belt tied tightly about his waist. "There's a problem, Tyrael."

"What is it, hero?"

"I'm not a black belt".

The belt turned a funny golden colour, and when it re-emerged it as red with a single black stripe around either end. As Inrandel followed the trace of the belt around his body he noticed perhaps the most startling change. Flicking back and forth, almost automatically, and two feet long, was a tail. Inrandel wasn't surprised by it, however. He knew that Saiyans were born with tails, and he was a Saiyan, but in a way it only added a sense of finality for the poor boy. In every sense, he was no longer in Kansas.