He placed the cigarette between his fingers and put it on his mouth. With a small flick of his index finger, it was lit. He gave a long inhale, letting the burning smoke fill his mouth for a few seconds, tasting the tobacco while his eyes followed the SCPD doors hoping his target would get out. Without luck, he exhaled via his nose.

The night was shit, it was raining with a ferocity which made it harder to see and getting his clothes wet. Gohan prided himself in being a patient man, it was one of his greatest qualities, however, even he had a limit and that limit was being reached as he leaned back on the hard, wet and cold brick wall. He had positioned himself above the building in front of the SCPD, with the darkness and rain, no one would see up to the ceiling, and he had a good view of its front doors.

He took another drag and sighed. Either the damned cops were actually doing their jobs or they were being the incompetent idiots, the latter being the most probable. He didn't understand why they hated him so much, he was doing their job, he was doing what they swore to do, give justice to the people. He rolled his eyes to that train of thought, he couldn't shift the whole blame to the stupid cops, or the city in a way, he could shift it to the man with such cocky and arrogant attitude that made the city think of itself as invincible. Hercules Satan.

A small chuckle escaped his chest, that oaf had somehow convinced the whole world that he had defeated the mighty and horrible android Cell. That he with his great power had vaporized Cell to dust. Gohan had to give it to him, Hercules Satan was nowhere the hero he made the people believe but he was a great liar, he even managed to convince himself. And thanks to his great accomplishment, the damn city he lived in had decided to rename itself, an honor to be the city of such a hero. Sadly, Hercules Satan didn't care much about the people after the whole Cell fiasco, he cared more about looking good for the cameras and gloating his glory, and the crime rose to incredible lengths.

Of course, the idiot had claimed he had it all under control, and being so damn aloof and laid back about it, his cops and his mayor believed they did indeed had everything under control. Which was a synonym of actually being incompetents who couldn't even catch a small thief, and if they did manage to catch someone really bad, unable to hold unto evidence or deciding their shit pay was not enough to be moral, they let that someone walk free.

Justice, my ass.

Finally, after what seemed ages, the man Gohan had been waiting for emerged from the SCPD front doors. He was around fifty years of age, wore a black trilby hat which matched his coat and held an umbrella with his right arm. Gohan had followed that man for quite a while, a trafficker of many things, whatever brought him cash. Girls, drugs, documents, etc. While, technically, Gohan had no evidence (and if he had it wouldn't make a damn difference) about such accusations, everyone knew. That man was a damned criminal, a real bad one, and he didn't deserve to roam the streets freely and without fear while other people did. It wasn't fair.

A really small part of him, the part that still believed his father gave a shit about him and his mother, had hoped the cops had done their jobs and arrested the man. It would be one less criminal in the streets, that is until the trial, but still, it would facilitate his job. However, that small part of him was proven wrong, the cops had probably been bribed and those who hadn't probably been threatened, and now that stupid criminal was walking down the street, umbrella at hand and a wicked smile on his face.

It made Gohan sick.

He took one last long drag from his cigarette, then he flicked it off to the side, letting the rain do its job. With ease, he jumped off the ceiling, landing rather gracefully and silently. He wore normal clothes, anything otherwise would be stupid, some blue jeans and a black hoodie. He began walking in the same direction as that man, the few people that passed by him didn't even glance in his direction, he looked like everyone else, miserable, cold and wet. His eyes, however, never left the man's trail, and when he had slipped down an alley, he followed patiently.

The alley was a classic 'something-bad-is-gonna-happen' alley. Full of trash bags, smells of rotting garbage and no one around. It wasn't a one-way alley, though, it ended in some intersection but Gohan wouldn't let the man go that far. Seemingly, the man wasn't as stupid as one would've thought, for he had come to a sudden stop and turned around, knife at hand and an annoyed look in his eyes. Gohan stopped a few feet away from him.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man spoke. "And why are you following me?"

Gohan said nothing.

"I asked you a question, you better answer me if you know what's good for you."

Gohan took a step forward. The man bewildered, rose the knife to his chest. "Stop where you are!"

Another step forward.

"I'm warning you, I won't hesitate!"

Gohan tilted his head sideways, then he chuckled.

The man, already exasperated, sighed offended. "Do you know who I am? What I can do to you?"

Ignoring the man's remarks, Gohan walked towards him, never saying a word. It was as if the man didn't exist and he simply wanted to get to the other side of the alley. Gohan would've rather have the man shut up, and although it was late at night and the music coming from someone's apartment masked the threats mostly well, he could still hear the words coming from such a vile man.

"Are you deaf? Fuck off!"

He was now parallel to the man, in the knife's reach. If he had been a normal human, it would've seemed as if he had positioned himself to his death. He glared at the man with his onyx black eyes, his father's eyes but instead of being caring or understanding, his were cold and void of any feeling. The man was confused more than anything, the knife still at his chest and the umbrella trembling.

"Who the fuck-"

He had tried to stab him, a simple move of just bringing his arm forward, Gohan quickly evaded the blade and before the man could bring his arm back, he grabbed his wrist, pressed on it and breaking it, the man with a cry of pain let go of the knife and umbrella, and tried with his free hand to punch him. However, Gohan was quicker and had already proceeded to grab him by the neck, pushing him into the wall. The man suddenly cowered in fear of his life.

Peculiar thing, Gohan always noticed. The big mighty and untouchable men were always scared of the same thing, their end. Even Cell had started blabbing when he had been faced with his demise. Gohan never understood that they dared to kill, scam and cause pain but didn't dare face the consequences. Pathetic.

"I'll give you money," the man begged, his tone weak. "I'll give you anything you want! Do you want money? You'll have it! Power? I'll give it to you! Anything, just please don't kill me!"

He had to admit, there was always something pleasant in seeing those scumbags beg. But he shook it off, this wasn't a pleasant job, it was a necessary job. There was a difference.

"I," he finally spoke, his voice deeper than it actually was. "Simply want justice."

"Justice? I'll give it to you! Tell me who wronged you! My finest men will bring him-"

He didn't finish the sentence for Gohan had broken his neck. The man's body went limp, his bloodshot eyes slowly faded any life out of him and his horrible face was now his permanent look. This wasn't the end at all, there was still his whole organization to stop, other people to kill but for now, it was a step. It was, in a twisted way, justice.

He let go of the body, it fell in the bags of garbage, an adequate place for that kind of man. In a way, he had been lucky, a more or less painless death. It wasn't always like that. Gohan looked around, wondering if anyone listened or saw. But the rain and darkness of the night had concealed his identity. Satisfied with his work, he began walking to the intersection, his hands on his pocket, reaching for another cigarette, as he lit it, he could see the headlines of tomorrow's papers.

He could already hear the stupid voice of Hercules Satan condemning him, calling him a murderer and lowering him to the same standards as the man he killed. Had Gohan been more of an asshole, he would've already sought justice for himself, paid a visit to that glorified drunk. Defeat the man who had supposedly killed Cell.

As he left a trail of smoke in his wake, his mind traveled to his shoulder, he extended it and it made a resounding crack, one that to the ears of others would sound horrible but to him was normality, as if to prove a point to no one in particular. He had lost people and things that day and had the evidence to back it up. But something he had quickly realized in Satan City was that evidence didn't matter for shit.

Then a morbid thought formed.

Would dad be proud of who I've become?

The answer came to him before he could think the thought completely.

Of course not.

But it wasn't as if he was here to judge him, he was never here and never would be. And that was that.

The rain didn't bother him after a while.

"Gohan! Wake up!"

He woke up to his little brother jumping on his stomach. It never did hurt him, Goten knew that, but it did, however, annoyed him and woke him up. The little hyperactive child jumped up and down, up and down, up and down until Gohan grabbed him and threw him across the room. Groaning, he shifted in his bed and brought his hands to his face.

"I'm up, I'm up."

He had come home late last night. Really late. If his internal clock still served for something, he would say he slept around three hours. Which sucked because now his eyelids felt too heavy and his bed too cozy.

Goten was beside him way too quickly for his liking. "Come on! Wake up! Wake up! Wake-"

Gohan wrapped him in a bear hug, trapping him in his arms, pressing ever so slightly. Goten was ecstatic, having the time of his life trying to escape the grasp of his brother. "Gohan! Gohan!"

"Shhhh," the oldest shushed, his eyes closed, still in bed. A small smile formed on his face.

The youngest was giggling like a fool, squirming his way out but unable to do so. "Gohan, you smell funny," he laughed.

Gohan opened his eyes and realized he hadn't changed of clothes the night before. He had been exhausted and in need of getting some sleep, he had just taken off his shoes. He still wore the same jacket and jeans as when he smoked cigarettes. He shrugged. He knew Goten wouldn't know exactly why his brother smelled funny but if he told their mother, she would go around the room and would quickly put together two plus two.

"You're way too hyperactive this morning."

"And you're too grumpy."

A chuckle. "Good point, alright, squirt, if you don't tell mom about my funny smell I let ya go."

"And if I don't?" The mischief in his tone brought a genuine smile to Gohan's face.

He wrapped his arms around him even closer. "You and I will stay like this and skip breakfast."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh but I would."

The childish laughter that came afterwards was all the answer Gohan needed to let go of his brother. He knew he wouldn't tell, they had made an 'honorable' pact. Instead, Goten had caught the smell of breakfast, and wasting no time, had run out of the door in the blink of an eye.

That gave him a moment to pull himself together. The first thing that came to his mind was the need to smoke. A horrible and nasty habit that could now be categorized as an addiction but which in a twisted ironic way, calmed his thoughts and placed his worries aside. The second thing that came to his mind was the want to go back to sleep, for he was exhausted and his bed seemed cozier than ever. And finally, the third thing that came to his mind was to pull himself together and face the new day.

Shower. I gotta shower. His mother was a bloodhound when it came to tobacco, an occupational hazard when being friends with the great Bulma Briefs. She would smell the cigarette on him if he tried to show his face first at the dinner table. He had to shower first and change of outfit, then place his clothes in his special basket for laundry day. Easy. He could do it. And if everything went well, maybe he would leave the house early for work and along the way have a cigarette or two.

Showering went without problems. By the time he had stepped out of it, he had more energy to face the day. He put on some jeans, a white t-shirt and a gray jacket. They had been cleaned the day before and smelled of flowery detergent. He looked at himself in the mirror, his mother was a detective and would know if anything was off about him. He had to look as if nothing was wrong. Gohan, though, looked tired, the bags under his eyes becoming more present with each passing day, his dark black pupils stared at his reflection, frowning. His body, if one looked well, was marked by scars. Some were fading, becoming translucent to the eyes, others were more present. That's why he always wore baggy clothes, apart from hiding his muscular build, to hide the evidence of battles now forgotten.

He shook his head. He didn't look off today. He just looked slightly tired. He could justify that with his studies. Oh, I just stayed up late studying, mom. It won't happen again. His mother would reprimand him for it but she wouldn't be really mad, after all, she loved to see her oldest son being so serious about his studies. Even when Gohan himself was at a loss of what to do with his life. Becoming a scholar was every day less of a possibility with his secret identity, and fighting wasn't something that he could keep on forever.

Didn't matter for the time being, though. He would cross that bridge or not when it was time.

Satisfied with his looks, he went to the kitchen, where his mother was finishing the last touches of breakfast and Goten was eating with fervor.

"Good morning, mom, smells delicious."

"Ah! You finally come down! I thought you went back to sleep again." The tone wasn't malicious at all, it was more of an observation.

His hand went to the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly. "I stayed up late studying, I was too focused and didn't see the time until it was really late. It won't happen again."

Chi-Chi brought the plate of sausage to the table and sighed. "Ah, my son, always so focused on his studies. You'll make a wonderful scholar one day! But sleep is also very important, Gohan. We must have balance in this house."

Balance, yeah right, as if anything I've been through has been 'balanced'.

He nodded as he took his seat. His stomach growled and he began stuffing food into his mouth with the same fervor as his little brother.

Their mother took her seat calmly, unfazed by the animalistic way of eating food of her sons. Giving away that this type of thing was normality in the household. "How's work, dear?"

Gohan gulped down a piece of rice and shrugged. "Good, good. Business is booming and Mister Abi is really happy about it," he stopped to consider something then went for it. "He offered me more hours, considering that business is becoming busier."

That was a lie. The business was the same as always, not giving its last dying breaths but neither swimming in customers and their money. Mister Abi was a nice man who treated Gohan with utter respect, and in turn, Gohan always tried to abide by his rules. But Satan City was becoming more and more of a hellhole and he needed time to finish some loose ends here and there.

He frowned internally. Since when had he started to lie with such ease?

Chi-Chi pursed her lips. "Gohan, what about your studies? I don't want these late-night sessions to be a common occurrence."

"I already said it was a one time-"

"Is he offering you more money?"

He frowned. "Well, not yet but he told me if I did accept it then-"

His mother sighed. That sigh that Gohan had heard throughout his childhood. The one of utter disappointment. The one she always made whenever his father went off and trained instead of working or tried to convince her to let him bring Gohan too. He hated that sigh because it meant she thought she wasn't doing enough which was not true. She was doing everything she could.

"Actually, this might be time to bring this up. I was waiting for a better time but," she gave her sternest look. "Summer is ending and I think it would be good for you to attend high school, a real high school for your last year."

That took him completely by surprise and he ended up choking on the rest of the rice. "What?"

"Gohan, you're seventeen and you're already working! That's not good. I have tolerated it for the past months because it forms a good work ethic but a kid of your age shouldn't be doing this all his life, or all the year. You should be placing your whole concentration on getting good grades."

"Mom, I already have good-great grades."

"I think it would be good for you to make friends your age."

A scoff. Friends my age? Oh, I'm sure I'll have tons of stuff to talk about with people my age. I bet one of them even had to fight a fucking murder android. I'm sure we can bond over that experience!

"It would also look good if you have at least some real-life teaching for good colleges. A future scholar such as yourself should know."

His heart contracted in guilt. Scholar. Gohan knew many things and one of them was that he was not going to be a scholar. There had been a time when he was sure about who and what he wanted to be in life, it, however, had been interrupted by his uncle's sudden appearance, becoming a scholar had turned into a second priority when the first was to have a world to become a scholar. Then, he thought his life would be dominated by fighting, for it seemed it was all he did, and he was truly okay with it because his father would train him. Then, he died.

And now, after years of general peace, Gohan didn't know what or who he wanted to be. A fucking scholar. Give me a break.

"What about money? We need the money-"

"No, we don't. I have talked to my father, he's willing to help us out for a while. And don't worry about the fee to enter school, with your grades they have offered you a scholarship."

"Which won't be enough."

Her mother frowned and he was forced to look away from her gaze. "If you keep up with your good grades, I'll make it enough."

Gohan gave a sigh that was a good contender to his mom's. "Mom."

"Gohan."

"We interrupt your daily broadcast for some breaking news: This morning, the body of well-known alleged trafficker Kiu Orts was found dead ten blocks away from the SCPD. Early reports conclude that the cause of death was a cervical fracture. Kiu was alleged of trafficking drugs, women and weapons through Satan City, however, he was never found..."

The TV's newsman was reading off some stupid bullshit about how Kiu had never been found guilty of anything simply because the evidence was non-existent and the witnesses never showed up to court. Gohan's attention went to the screen, he wasn't sure if Goten should be hearing this kind of news but his mother made no move to change the channel and the sudden fight that had begun, quickly faded as the oldest was interested in what had to be said.

"Mr. Satan is here to give his statement to the media," a reporter was shown in the huge mansion in which that stupid man lived. He looked like someone who had been caught in an odd moment trying to make it look normal, which was probably the case. "Thoughts, Mr. Satan about this new 'vigilante' our city has?"

The clown showed his muscle in stupid positions before laughing and settling down in front of the reporters. Then with a huge comedic serious face, he answered. "In this beautiful city there must be order, no one can go and just kill people because they're 'allegedly' bad! That's the job of our great police force! If everyone went around and killed whoever wronged them, is that true justice or just revenge wrapped in an excuse? No, sir! Whoever that person is that has been terrorizing our police force and city is no hero! He's as bad as that monster Cell, and I should know, I defeated such..."

Gohan stopped paying attention after that. The subject had been directed to his great defeat of Cell. Unconsciously, Gohan's hands had turned into fists, his jaw clenched and his onyx eyes had become cold as ice. Fuck this man, I should pay a visit to him, maybe like that he'll shut the fuck up. He hated Mr. Satan with his whole heart but could never really blame him for what had happened. His mother didn't want the publicity, neither did he but that man always gloated about himself and was given huge amounts of money, meanwhile, Gohan and his family had to struggle without a stable income for years.

He's as bad as that monster Cell.

He grabbed the table by its top and extended his arm inward. The crack was heard through the room, his mom flinched while Goten stopped eating. Gohan never knew when exactly cracking his shoulder became a sort of habit, it wasn't harmful and it didn't cause him pain but it was a permanent reminder of the battle which he cost his father his life. The battle where he hadn't been strong enough.

As bad as that monster.

"I can't believe how incompetent the police task force is!" His mother complained. "There is a murderer out on the streets and they can't even catch him! And to say that man is the one who 'defeated' Cell!"

Gohan since the very beginning, since the accident, knew that he wasn't a hero. He hadn't done any heroic acts. He wasn't the one who defeated Cell, even if his family and friends said otherwise, he hadn't been strong enough for that so, he had settled on killing weaker people that brought wrongdoing to the world. He hadn't asked to be called a hero, he didn't think there were any heroes, not after his father's death but his chest hurt as he heard his mother say such words to the TV because, in the end, they were meant for him. He was the murderer.

The secrets were going to end up killing him.

His watch started to beep and he looked down. It was time to go to work, and thank Kami for that, he couldn't take one more minute in that house. He chugged down some orange juice and stood up. "I gotta go."

"This conversation isn't over, young man. Your studies come first. Think about it."

My studies? What future do I have? A murderer, just as you said.

He sighed. "I'll have something to do so at work," he looked at his younger brother and ruffled his hair. "See you later, Squirt, don't cause too much havoc."

Goten smiled his mischievous smile. "I'll try."

Gohan chuckled as he went to grab his backpack. Then, he walked towards his mom, looked at her and rolled her eyes playfully. "I won't stay up late anymore. It was a one-time thing."

"Be careful. Don't overwork yourself. And remember, your future comes first."

"I'll be home by dinner, I might stop by Bulma's before though."

"Don't go asking for a fight, please."

He smirked. "Hey, last time Vegeta was the one who challenged me."

She sighed. But this one wasn't as bad as the other one. This was more nostalgic. "Just like your father."

And it hurt more.

The first thing he did after landing on the outskirts of Satan City was to grab a cigarette. With need, he lit it up and inhaled greedily. The tobacco filled his mouth, burning his palate and leaving a taste often described as horrendous but to him pleasant. In hindsight, he should've never touched a cigarette for now he was truly dependant on them to make it through his days.

He exhaled and rolled his eyes while passing through the big, tall poster with huge letters of the name of the city. He cringed at the thought of going to school there. He frowned, getting frustrated with himself, this wasn't supposed to happen, it had been an accident, he didn't mean to become this sort of punisher seeking justice. He had wanted peace and instead he found himself in a mess. He couldn't stop, however, not when he was that deep into the whole vigilante thing, and his mother would break if he let it swallow him whole. But he couldn't let his mother spend her last of inheritance in him when he knew he was a hopeless case.

What a mess.

When he arrived at the pizza parlor that was his workplace, he found Glen leaning on the exterior wall smoking. Glen was a nice dude, perhaps one of his only friends, around his age and more laidback than needed. He was of lean body, dark brown hair which was cut short and hazelnut eyes, he was aloof in his actions and words but you could see the faintness of sadness in his face once in a while.

Without looking, Gohan grabbed his joint and threw it on the sidewalk and stepped on it. "No smoking allowed."

Glen made a face. "You reek of cigarettes though."

"Exactly, cigarettes, not weed. Tobacco won't make me put on some weird shit to the pizza or end up sleeping in the freezer."

"It was purely accidental that time in the freezer, and I keep telling you, that pizza wasn't as bad as you think it was."

Gohan grabbed his keys and opened the front doors, Mister Abi would arrive later but it was up to Glen and him to open up the place and make it run. "I don't know why you haven't been fired yet."

Glen gave his trademark grin as he opened the lights. "Who else would help you run this place? Besides, you need someone to bring joy in your life, you look miserable."

"Thanks, and you look stunning."

Glen went to the tables, deciding on placing them in the right order and putting the chairs down while Gohan went up to the kitchen to get the stuff needed out and ready.

"Hey, did you hear about the latest of the vigilante's work? A dude named Kiu or something like that," Glen shouted.

Gohan grumped as he put down a box full of tomatoes. "A bit, yeah."

"The police is really mad at this one. Just barely ten blocks away from the department. I bet those dudes can't even comprehend how they didn't hear shit or anything."

"Mmh," was the answer he got.

"It wasn't as ghastly as the others, though. A simply broken neck, and a wrist too. They suspect the man was either in a hurry or he was benevolent."

"Since when do you know so much about the police?" Gohan asked as he placed the pre-made pizza dough on their correspondent containers.

Glen shrugged and put down the third chair of the fourth table. "Come on, Gohan, you can't tell me you're aren't a bit curious about this vigilante. He's getting to the levels of Mr. Satan in fame, and that's saying something. He's almost as famous as the savior of the world."

Gohan's shoulder involuntary cracked. Glen cringed. "You gotta get that shoulder checked out, you are the only one who can carry those flour bags without breaking a sweat, if you're out of commission I'll be done for."

"I'm okay."

Glen stopped. "Okay, out with it, what's wrong, you look even more miserable than usual."

Gohan stopped unloading the boxes and glared at Glen. The restaurant was made in a way in which one could see the grille and kitchen from the tables, Mister Abi had made it so to give a more artisanal look to his place; just look over your shoulder and you would see the pizza oven and the cook making the exact pizza you're putting in your mouth. Fresh and authentic.

"Fuck off."

"Gladly but I can't given that I'm paid to be here, and I really don't wanna be staying here for the next five hours or so with your scowl."

I need another cigarette, for Kami's sake.

Gohan frowned at his thought. He couldn't possibly be that dependant on tobacco and nicotine, it hadn't been more than thirty minutes since his last one. He tried to recall Bulma smoking so fervently as he was but no memory came to mind but he let it go given the fact most of his memories with Bulma involved saving the world and/or trying to stay alive to see the next day, not exactly good times to smoke a cigarette.

"Family problems mixed with money ones," he grunted, trying to stay as vague as possible.

"Let me guess, the family problems stemmed from the money ones?"

Gohan nodded, Glen, smiled. "I figured as much."

"How you knew?"

Glen laughed and placed another chair in its position. "Not to be mean but you can't lie for shit. Unless you do it on purpose because you're like a book who wants to be close but is an open book."

"You're making me wanna go smoke another cig-"

"-arette. You see? An open book, I'm telling you."

Gohan resumed his activities and shook his head. Glen was good company, truth be told, he was the closest thing he had to a friend but sometimes his humor reached borderline annoying, this was one of those times. How wrong he was, in believing Gohan was a terrible liar, to Glen he was just another teenager with shit parents and in need of a shit job, a normal dude with perhaps some abnormal strength but he didn't have the minor idea of who his coworker was in reality. Glen spoke so freely about the vigilante who was described as a 'man seeking revenge and saying it's justice' and never really thought that he was right in front of him.

Gohan could still feel the neck of the man in his fingers, his voice so pathetically in fear, begging him for mercy just as others asked him, lowering himself to a stupid and sad excuse of a human. The demi-Saiyan didn't have any regrets about ending his life. He was glad even, one less bad man in the streets.

Glen had no idea of it.

"Look, Gohan, in life we can't control much, so, if this is out of your power, then let it be. If you have to work more hours, then what the heck, I'll work them as well. If you even need a place to stay, my shit apartment isn't much but you can sleep on the couch. Hey, if you have to give up smo-"

"I'm not into that much shit, Glen," Gohan interrupted, a small smile forming. "But thanks, I appreciate it. Although I think I'll have to work fewer hours."

"Wait, what?"

"My mom wants to send me to school here, for my last year. You know, the private high school that costs a lot? That one and I don't think we can afford it, even with some stupid scholarship program."

Glen was going to say something but he closed his mouth and stared at the wall, with a thoughtful look on his face. He shrugged, at last, the aloofness coming back to him. "Well, it's not like you want to be this for all your life. You're smart, Gohan, I'm sure you can repay her by getting a bomb-ass job, or befriend a pretentious prick of that school and live off him, or her, you know?"

When Gohan said nothing, Glen continued. "For someone who claims that he doesn't like socializing, you care a whole lot about people. You worry about your family's well-being, got a shit job with a shit pay to help them out, you are too caring and kind with Mister Abi, hell, you even go as far as doing some odd job here and there for him with no pay, not to forget you try, even though you sometimes fail, to be polite towards our customers. I don't know about you, Gohan, but you have a good heart and you do put everyone before you, so..."

Gohan looked at him, with an expression somewhere between interested and thoughtful.

Glen went back to his work. "...maybe doing something selfish won't hurt."

He frowned. "How you know that I would even want to go to high school here?"

"Because, my dear friend, you can try to hide it all you want but you are a nerd at the core. And because, if you hadn't grown at least a bit fond of this crazy city, then you would've left long ago."

"Or maybe it is because of my money problems." Among other things...

"Meh, or perhaps that exactly, I don't know maybe I'm reading too much into this, I am no philosopher. But hey, good things can come from this." He dropped a chair and made a strenuous sound that made Gohan glared at him.

"Or bad things."

Glen chuckled. "Yeah, but you won't know unless you go and experience it. Who knows, Gohan, maybe you'll like it. It would be a challenge, wouldn't it? Don't you like challenges?"

Gohan looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "It would mean fewer hours of work, and how would Mister Abi take it?"

"You see, again, caring about others. Admit it, Son Gohan, you have a good, kind heart even when you deny it. And don't worry about it, the old man and I can make this place somewhat functional when you're not around."

Something I doubt.

Glen shrugged once more as he placed the last of the chairs in its right position. "But what do I know? It's your life at the end, you get to choose. Don't take my word for shit," he added with a grin.

"Duly noted," Gohan said as he started kneading the pre-made dough.

"You know, I read a poem a few years back, I can't remember it for shit now, and do not take it seriously, perhaps the weed is now altering my brain and making me some sort of fucking Socrates, but I do remember the end: but if anything is worth winning then, this is it. Think about it, think about saving yourself."

Gohan began to laugh, which was odd when all he wanted to do was cry internally. His life was such a mess, his father was dead, his mother in debt and here he was bitching about going to high school all because of an accident that happened months prior that made him an unwanted vigilante. 'Think about saving yourself', what bullshit! He was doing the exact opposite, he was digging his own grave. Whichever way he looked at it, he was fucked. Could he stop killing those scumbags? Probably but would he be able to rest? Unlikely. Could he come clean about it? Only if he wanted to go to jail for life. Should he just devote himself to it? If he did, then he would end up dead by the end of the month.

There was no way out, and he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

The front doors opened and a man about sixty years of age, silver hair with a touch of youth gold, sunglasses, a blue jacket, black shirt and some pants, gray beard and a smile, came through. Mister Abi seemed in a good mood, perhaps because his employees had actually done their work properly.

"What's so funny?" His accent made it so his words were always punched and fully dictated, which created this odd tone that could be compared to a man exaggerating for the sake of exaggerating.

"Nothing, sir," Gohan immediately sobered up, focusing on the task at hand.

"Mmh," Mister Abi hung his blue jacket and made his way to the kitchen. "I hope you boys haven't messed anything up."

"No, sir, we are doing just our humble work," Glen answered.

"The city is every day more and more chaotic, the police is getting tighter and tighter. You can't walk four blocks without seeing a cop on the streets."

Glen beamed up in childish happiness as he saw an opportunity to talk about the vigilante of Satan City. He made his way to the counter, where the cleaning products were placed. While he moved, he hoped that his boss hadn't smelled the weed reeking off him. As he passed by him, the old man did a double-take and Glen thought he was done for, but instead, Mister Abi went back to his activities.

"I bet it's because they think they can catch that vigilante as if he shows his face in broad daylight," he said.

Gohan frowned. He really needed a cigarette. Usually, he could tolerate the gossip the townsfolk made of him, or rather his secret identity but his mood had soured with his mother's comment and being compared to fucking Cell. He didn't want to hear anything about that subject for a while.

"All the news are talking about him, making useless debates about the honorability of the whole thing. I wouldn't be surprised if this was another stunt by Mr. Satan, that man loves the attention," Mister Abi said as he counted the money off the register.

"Honorability? I don't see why the use of that. In the end, the man doesn't kill anyone good, right?"

"That's one side of things."

Glen shrugged. "What's the other?"

"His unnecessary violence, half of his victims showed signs of torture before getting killed. Usually, he leaves no witnesses, and does everything to get his victim."

Gohan gripped the dough with more force than needed, if he didn't control himself soon, he would end up breaking the brick counter. He was glaring at the pizza dough as if it was the enemy, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to breathe slowly. Morality? Morality? Why should he use honor and morality when dealing with those scumbags? Why should he be the one abiding by the rules when those people do not?

Had his father decided to do the right thing instead of the honorable then the damned androids would've been destroyed before they were even made. It would've saved so much pain and suffering to the warriors. Had Vegeta gulped down his pride and done the right thing finishing Cell even when he was inferior to the Saiyan, then Gohan would have never needed to fight and his father would still be alive.

Gohan had learned the hard way that to fight the bad people, he had to play by their rules. Make them taste their own medicine, their suffering. Why should one be honorable with dishonorable opponents? His thoughts wandered to Kiu, a man who had killed so many without even batting an eye, deaf to their cries of mercy, and how just the night before, it had been him who had begged for mercy, begged to be treated differently than how he had been treated. Would it have been truly justice if Gohan had let him go?

No, of course not.

"Gohan?"

"Gohan?"

Had Cell been honorable and accepted his defeat when he saw Gohan surpassed his strength, or had he decided to fuck them over and auto-destruct?

His father, the mighty and honorable Son Goku had decided to stay dead for the better of the world. He had deemed it not the right thing, per se, but the honorable one. Because in the end, he would have all eternity to fight powerful opponents, or train to surpass whatever fucking limits he wanted. His father had not thought once about his son or wife, and had never thought of them afterwards, seven years without any word from him, he didn't even know he had another son.

His family and friends praised his decision, an honorable decision from the most honorable warrior out of them all. But none had questioned if it had been the right thing. The honorable thing had, essentially, been more important to them than a father raising his son. Gohan knew why he did it, his father was a warrior before anything else, before being a husband, friend or even father but Gohan would never understand how he could do it.

So, was it wrong if he had chosen to do the right thing instead of the honorable one?

"Gohan."

He snapped out of his thoughts and realized he had zoned out. He looked down at his hands, the dough was pressed so hard on his skin that it stuck when he tried to get it off. "I'm sorry, I was-," he stopped. "I had a rough morning."

Glen gave him a pitiful yet sympathetic look because he thought his rough morning was simply because of the high school stuff, which was partially right. Mister Abi, however, looked at him concerned but with the same pity in his eyes. Gohan hated being looked down on in pity. "You were saying?" He said trying to change the subject.

Glen, cheerful and carefree as always, said. "I was asking about your thoughts on the vigilante. People think he's some kind of alien, or god, or angel to be so damned stealthy about his crimes. What do you think?"

Gohan frowned while he tried to scrap the rests of pizza dough off his hands. He shrugged as carelessly as he could.

"I think people are dumb, he's not an alien or a god or whatever they think he is."

"So, what is he?"

"Beats me, my best guess is a fool, why else would he be saving this town out of all the others?"

The strenuous laugh of Glen followed by a chuckle of Mister Abi was heard echoing through the walls.