When Gohan entered the conference room, the sounds of anxious speech faded.

"Right," he concluded harshly, having just carried his only remaining non-Saiyan friend Sharpner to the hospital wing, "We have a problem."

Some people, namely Vegeta, 18 and Yamcha, found the need to express their mutual thought, which was 'duh'.

Tired as he was from the whole situation, Gohan decided to ignore them.

"A girl died today, by the hands of the Satan's," he continued, and started to walk around the table. Some heads followed him, some focussed on the wall or the table.

"She didn't know of either Saiyan or Satan."

Unsure what to do with his hands, Krillin fidgeted with his keys under the table.

"She died, because she had a boyfriend."

Bulma glanced sideways at Vegeta, and shivered.

"Her boyfriend didn't know of Satan's or Saiyans, either."

Vegeta met his glance coolly, seemingly untouched. Did nothing reach this cold-hearted bastard? Gohan shook the thought off the minute it came.

"And all that, because HIS father," Gohan fought the urge to slam the table full strength, but couldn't stop himself from banging it loudly anyway in rage, "Had a distinct, and most of all uninvolved role in our Enterprise."

Having finished his round, Gohan sank down into his chair.

"Well," Vegeta instantly took over, "I think it's obvious that we have to strike back, if we want to save the last shredder of prestige that we have left. Don't they have that driver guy? We should break him out."

"That's madness!" Eighteen shot back, "We can't possibly guarantee the safety of our men if we send them into the depth of their security system!"

"Guarantee?" Vegeta sneered, "You're not supposed to be able to! This is war!"

"Eighteen is right," Bulma cut in, silencing her husband with a glare, "We should ask for volunteers to do it."

Piccolo laughed without humour.

"You honestly believe any of our men will volunteer to such heroics?"

"I could persuade quite a few, I think," Vegeta wandered.

"Oh, come on!" Yamcha interfered, "Those poor chaps don't deserve that!"

"Uh, you guys?" Krillin said hesitantly, "Don't any of you wonder how they knew those kids were dating? I mean, I'm head of Internal Affairs, and no-one told me!"

"No one tells you anything," Vegeta said uncaringly.

"Vegeta!" Bulma snapped.

He gave her a look that claimed him to be unrightfully accused, which he very well knew he wasn't.

"All I'm saying is," Krillin said, a faint redness in his face, "How long were they dating, anyway?"

Slowly Gohan realised all attention had now slipped to him.

"Two days," he sighed.

All were silent.

"That is impressive!" Yamcha uttered.

"The problem is," Piccolo said, taking control of the heated conversation with his deep solemn voice, "That we don't have any funding any more. There's just enough for payback, I'd say. After that, how will we raise money? Even the volunteers have to eat."

Gohan nodded.

"Bulma?" he asked, "Anything you can sell through your dad?"

"Anything they can't use," Eighteen added.

She thought it over.

"Flyboots?" she suggested.

"No way," Krillin said frowning, "I don't like the idea of Satan's flying in through the window and strangling me in my sleep…"

"Fine, no flyboots…" Bulma said, "How about… Self-recycling paper?"

"Oh, yeah," Yamcha remarked, "That's make smuggling secret messages so much easier!"

"Okay, okay… Well, not the signal-decoder, obviously…"

Vegeta briefly wondered why anyone would want to buy a signal-decoder, if not for some evil organisation.

"I know! I just invented some pills, they're just like normal food, only in the form of pills! No more cooking! Though I still have to work on the taste, maybe Chi-Chi could lend a hand with that…"

Eighteen's face distorted slightly.

"I'd like to see what I'm eating…" she remarked.

"Anyone could poison them," Vegeta added, "Just shoot in some arsenic with a syringe, no one will ever know."

Finally Bulma sighed.

"Customisable capsules!" she exclaimed, halfway desperate.

"There's a market for that?" Piccolo asked, horrified.

"You'd be surprised…" Bulma said darkly.

Piccolo shook his head, more to himself.

"Okay," Gohan settled, "Have your dad market them. Vegeta, Eighteen and Piccolo, you can devise a plan to get agent Kendall out. Yamcha, I'm afraid we're going to need replacement after this, get on it. Some men this time, all right? And Krillin, you keep checking how they knew. We might have a leak somewhere."

He stood up and prepared to leave.

"And what are you going to do?" Vegeta remarked.

Gohan sighed.

"Unfortunately, it won't be sleeping."

In a bare room, where the only furniture consisted of two simple chairs, a small table, and a pile of crates, Tom Kendall slowly woke up. For a very brief moment he questioned his whereabouts, but almost instantly after the knowledge that he was captured by the Satan's, knocked unconscious, and apparently tied to a chair afterwards, popped up like a sensation washing over him. With it came the harsh realisation that he was in deep trouble. He had, of course, heard stories of people that had been caught by the Satan's. Depending on their rank, of course, these Saiyans were returned in various states of, well, survival. As for Tom Kendall… He drove a boy to school every day. God, he was doomed, wasn't he?

His heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The boy. Would he still be alive? And what about that sweet girlfriend of his, that Erasa? Did Sharpner find a way to get her back? No, she was dead. Even if it was just because they'd had to take him, Agent Kendall, in. Her fate was sealed the moment they took her. But Sharpner? Did he make it out? Or was he really that useless to the cause?

Tom realised, of course, that this escalation couldn't possibly be blamed fully to him. But he was going to, anyway. After all, wasn't he supposed to safeguard the youngsters? Sharpner, yes, but he had to keep an eye out for Gohan, too. Why hadn't he realised, stupid as he was, that he would have to check in on Erasa every once in a while, too? That was his job, for God's sake!

Dear God… He couldn't die. He couldn't! All the things he still needed to take care of! Oh, good Lord, his mother, what would become of her? If he died, they'd surely kick her out of her apartment, they'd put her in a home, she'd hate that!

Had he even told anyone that he wanted to be cremated instead of buried? Did anyone know? God, how stupid was he? He was in a line of business where you could never be sure you'd live to see tomorrow, and never, never had he spoken about it with his wife! Would they donate his organs? Would they put him in one of those ugly urns and just leave him on the mantelpiece? What would they tell his kids? Would they say he died a heroic death? Or would they twist it into a car accident? He hoped his kids would never find out he was murdered. Tanya could get over it, maybe, but Chris would never let it go. Would he try and avenge him? God, did he screw up everything? Was he ruining his family's lives as well?

Was he nothing but a curse to all that mattered to him?

In a less bare room, Gohan waited beside Sharpner's bed for him to wake up, an acted air of patience surrounding him. He'd been sitting here for the last ten minutes, waiting, and it was tearing him up inside. What would happen when Sharpner woke up? Would he be angry? Would he be sad? Would he scream at him? Would he speak at all? Would he cry? Would he attack him? Would he try to kill him? Would he try to kill himself? Would he realise instantly what happened, or would it all strike him down again? Would he… Would he change? Would it be a different Sharpner that woke up today?

Gohan had seen plenty of people change. Yamcha had changed when Bulma married Vegeta. Piccolo had changed when Gohan still lived with him. Vegeta had changed when Goku was named Chief Executive. Vegeta had changed again when he met Bulma. Vegeta had changed when his son Trunks was born. And again had he changed when Goku died. Gohan, too, had changed when his father died.

Virtually everyone changed when Goku died.

And now Stapler and Erasa had died, too. Would Sharpner also change? Gohan feared the answer to be 'yes'.

And what then? Would he be bitter? Would he go mad? Would he be evil? Would he be sad? Would he ever trust him again? And would he find the strength to love again?

"Tell me everything," Sharpner spoke suddenly. He didn't stir as he spoke, and his eyes never even opened.

Ah. Now that question Gohan had expected all along. But would he believe him?

He sighed.

"Your father provided money for our cause," he started, "You were caught by our rivals, the Satan's."

Sharpner shook his head.

"Tell me everything. From the very beginning."

Again, Gohan sighed.

"Fine."

Though Erasa was clearly still in shock, it pleased Videl to see her take in her surroundings in awe. Videl had 'convinced' her father to let Erasa live and get a regular room like the rest of them. The room was in the women quarters, quite close to where the stairs to the dungeon was. Of course, this didn't stop Videl from taking a tourist route.

Finally, after many great halls, quite some switches and two rotating walls, the two teenage girls reached the room that'd be Erasa's. It wasn't exactly luxurious. The small room contained a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a chair. Period. It was clinical and impersonal. The walls were white. The floor was white. The ceiling was white. The blankets and pillow, too, were white. The rest was made of oak. The only means of privacy it had was the chain on the inside of the door. Of course, there was a bolt on the outside as well, but though Erasa couldn't go out, no one would get in either. Not if she didn't want it.

Videl sat down on the chair. Erasa sunk onto the bed.

"Thank you," Erasa finally said, "For giving me a second life."

Videl shook her head.

"It's nothing. I'm not even sure whether I did it for you."

Small lie, there. Videl was sure whether she had done it for Erasa. She hadn't.

Erasa signalled a question mark with her eyes.

"You're the only person my age I know," Videl explained.

Bit bigger lie, that one. She had the displeasure of knowing Gohan, the adolescent leader of her enemies. Of course, she'd never been stupid enough to really get acquainted with him. After all, he believed she was simply Hercule's daughter, rather than the unofficial leader of the Satan's.

Erasa frowned slightly.

"You don't go to school?"

Videl shook her head again.

"Dad reckons it's too dangerous."

She looked Erasa in the eye, and saw disbelief. Not over the fact she didn't go to school. Erasa disbelieved her motives.

"Maybe…" Videl continued, "Maybe I did it just to taunt my father."

Big lie. She'd done it purely to poison her mind against Sharpner, so that when they met again, Sharpner would truly be sorry he ever let her down. Already had Videl ordered his father dead, something she would not have done if Sharpner had simply handed him over. She would have made Stapler a hostage. Well, tough luck!

A short silence blanketed between them.

"Tell me about him," Erasa finally said.

"About Sharpner?"

Videl could practically see the lump in Erasa's throat, which she swallowed with difficulty.

"No," she finally managed to say, not able to handle more horror just yet, "Tell me about your dad."

"Short version or long version?"

"Long version," Erasa decided.

Nodding agreement, Videl slid into a more comfortable position.

"My father is Hercule Satan," she begun. She paused briefly, expecting recognition, but none came.

"About fifteen years ago," she continued, "He was General of the World Army."

Erasa's eyes widened.

"General Satan?" she exclaimed.

Videl nodded patiently.

"As you clearly know, he is very famous for conquering those countries that resisted the Great Merging. Some say he is the reason the world is now one whole country."

Erasa nodded fervently.

"But didn't he disappear after the last rebels were defeated?"

"To the world, yes. In truth, he founded the Satan Corporation, to hunt down and defeat the rebels that appeared gone themselves. Lately, they have united as the Saiyan Enterprise, where – "

"The what?" Erasa interfered.

"Oh," Videl sighed, "You wanted the REALLY long version."

"Saiyan Enterprise was founded some forty years ago as a means to safeguard peace in the world. Long before the Great Merging of the world, Saiyan Enterprise struggled to stop conflict and open minds to one universal country. It was founded by Vegeta Saiyan Senior, commonly referred to as King Vegeta." Gohan explained.

"King?" Sharpner asked, opening his eyes at last to shoot Gohan a confused look.

"Self-proclaimed, of course," Gohan clarified, "He figured he founded Saiyan Enterprise, so he was the King of Saiyans."

Sharpner lay back and stared at the ceiling.

"King Vegeta had one son, Vegeta Junior, self-proclaimed Prince of Saiyans. Besides Vegeta, he had a step-son Nappa, and an adopted son Goku, whom he found on the streets as a baby. All three are considered pure Saiyans. Of course, only Prince Vegeta actually carries King Vegeta's blood, so he's the only one considered royalty, whereas his two brothers were 'soldiers'."

Gohan eyed his friend carefully. It was clear that he considered all this full-blood royalty stuff complete madness. Didn't he understand this was a concept where all of Saiyan Enterprise was built upon?

"Vegeta, who is actually the middle son, was by far the most bossy. Very intelligent, but with an air of unreliability. Nappa, the eldest, was more into hands-on action. Intelligence was not exactly his strong suit, but his size and strength made up for that. Goku, the youngest, was in fact very peaceful, in contradiction to his brothers. Of course, all three are trained in the craft of war, but Goku despised anything that included the loss of innocent lives. When King Vegeta died, he passed on his legacy to Goku. Prince Vegeta was furious. At that point, he and Nappa crossed over to the Satan Corporation."

Gohan paused, expecting a question about Satan Corporation. None came. Gohan decided to answer anyway.

"Satan Corporation was founded about fourteen years ago by Hercule Satan."

Sharpner nodded. Once out of the fray, he recognised the name from his history class.

"The Satan's, too, supported the Great Merge, but for all the different reasons. They wanted to dominate cultures that were different from theirs, claiming they were acting to suppress rebellion. In fact, this is why we have so many Nameks on our side."

"Nameks?" Sharpner asked.

Gohan hesitated.

"It's sort of a sect, I think. They're not exactly clear about it. Anyway, they were hugely suppressed by Lord Frieza, who – "

"Lord?" Sharpner asked sceptically.

"Self-proclaimed. His dad considered himself king, too. Anyway, he suppressed Nameks, purged them for money, which Nameks don't care for and thus aren't exactly swimming in, and – "

"Who is he?" Sharpner interfered.

"Oh, right…" sighed Gohan, "He was the military leader of Satan Corporation at that time."

"Aha."

"Anyway, long battle, quite some losses, most of them Satan's, blah blah blah, Goku defeated him. Well, we all helped, of course. Oh…"

Gohan stared at a blank spot of wall.

"Did I say? Goku was my dad. He and my mom met in Saiyan Enterprise, and got married soon after. She quit to be a housewife after that."

"Well," Videl continued, "After that, I think you could safely say Vegeta was a changed man. Just one battle royale, and he had fought against family, friends, and enemies, all of them scattered throughout the different organisations. He'd killed Satan's and Nameks alike, and lord knows he tried his best to kill some Saiyans, too. No one knew what side he belonged to anymore. In retrospect, I think he'd been on his own all along. Most Satan's wouldn't have him anymore. Most Saiyans wouldn't have him either. All Nameks hated his guts for killing tenfolds of their peaceful sect."

Videl stopped.

She remembered those few months in which Vegeta still roamed Satan Corporation, not getting any jobs to do for lack of trust. She'd been barely seven years old. It was then that he told her fascinating stories about what he called planet Vegeta, about how it had been destroyed by Frieza. About how Frieza destroyed planets to sell them as moons to other planets. Most of all, he told her about the little Prince Vegeta, son of King Vegeta, who had been forced into killing inhabitants of other planets himself as Frieza pulled the strings on his father. And he also told of Kakarot, the mere soldier, sent to earth as a baby to destroy it when full moon came, and it would transform into a terrible beast. Apparently, this Kakarot had bumped his head somehow and turned into the most loving wonderful kid, and turned out to be Goku.

Of course, Videl now knew it had all been the vivid imagination of a confused Saiyan. For instance, the story told that Frieza had killed King Vegeta. Total nonsense. Vegeta Senior died of old age. Even her father, who'd have loved to claim his death, admitted that. So of course, all this nonsense about ki-blasts and full moons was a lie, too. And the Dragon Balls… Well, obviously he'd known about the orange ball with the two red stars that she possessed, and based that particular story on that.

"Well," she quickly continued, "Actually, he'd met some chick at the Saiyans, the daughter of inventor Dr. Briefs, and married her, so he turned out just fine, crossing over again in the process, the filthy traitor."

Erasa, who'd acquired a dreamy look, visually crashed down again from her cloud.

"Oh," she brilliantly commented.

Gohan frowned, mostly to himself.

"Don't think Yamcha liked him much after that," he remarked.

"Yamcha?" asked Sharpner.

"Yamcha is one of our older members. Head of Recruiting. He's been with us since he was a kid. He used to be quite the little criminal, but he's devoted to our cause now. He and Bulma were always on and off, dating and fighting. I think you can imagine he was quite pissed when Bulma married another during one of their 'off' periods. Seems okay with it now, though he still hates Vegeta's guts. Well, he's not alone in that, of course. Krillin don't trust him either, and I don't think he and Piccolo get along well… And, of course, Eighteen hates his guts, too."

He paused briefly.

"Oh… Right…" he commented vaguely, "Krillin was dad's best friend, he's chief of Internal Affairs, nowadays. He used to be a great warrior, but everyone kept gaining in on him. Little guy, married to Eighteen, father to a little girl, Marron. Piccolo is one of the Nameks, he used to be evil in his own way. Quite the old-timer himself, actually. He's the main trainer of new recruits. Eighteen… No, I'll get to Eighteen later," Gohan decided.

He grabbed himself a glass of water and drained it.

It pleased him to see Sharpner was now upright and listening intently.

"Right!" Gohan said, his throat tended to, "In the battle with Frieza, he threatened to detonate a bomb capable of annihilating the city, which was home to all the Nameks. We managed to evacuate the whole place in time, but dad stayed to fight with Frieza. The bomb went off, as promised. We couldn't find the remains of Frieza or Goku, but, man, you should have seen the place! We couldn't even find the town square no more, not without GPS!"

Gohan stopped to fight back a stray tear. Shut up, he told himself. Yes, it looked awful. But this wasn't it… This wasn't how his father had died.

Sharpner was first to regain courage to speak.

"You lost your dad, too?" he asked, his voice timid.

In his last attempt to fight back the tears, he shivered violently and straightened his features.

"After that…" Gohan continued.

"After that," Videl continued, "We finally found ourselves a new military advisor: Garlic Junior. He was perfect for our cause. Hated the Saiyans guts, especially Goku and his son. He…"

Videl paused to think.

"We're not exactly sure what happened to him, actually."

"Huh?" Erasa asked confusedly.

"Well…" Videl wandered, "You know how I said Sharpner convinced his dad to trap Garlic Junior in his own Death Zone?"

"Yeah…?" Erasa questioned.

"You see… We don't actually know what a Death Zone is."

Erasa blinked.

"You don't?"

"No."

"Ah."

"Yes," Videl stated, "Anyway, he was never seen or heard from again, as goes for his group of mercenaries. Goku reappeared a year later. After that, things were calm for about three years, spare some attempts at revenge by Frieza's relatives. Vegeta fathered a child in that time. And then… I think you could say disaster struck."

You could also say Erasa's attention spiked.

"Dr. Gero, our leading scientist, has in the past converted himself into an android."

Erasa blinked.

"You mean like a robot?" she said, horror dripping off her voice.

"Yes, I mean exactly like a robot. He made himself an assistant, 19. After that, he built a set of two teenage androids, 17 and 18. You've met 17, he's the guy with the long black hair. 18 is his blonde sister."

"But…" Erasa muttered to herself, "He looked so human…"

Videl nearly chuckled. Nearly. She still hadn't forgiven Seventeen for ratting her out to her father.

"Well, they are converted humans, though God knows where Dr. Gero got them from. In addition, he also made 16, whose sole purpose was to track down and assassinate Goku. But there were… complications. The Saiyans discovered Dr. Gero's lab, and attempted to destroy the androids before they could be activated. In the fighting, android 19 was severely damaged. Dr. Gero had no other choice but to activate the androids 17 and 18 before he could lay final hand on their programming. They turned on him, and nearly destroyed him. They also activated android 16, whose programming was far from completed. I – "

Her voice failed her.

She vaguely wondered why. She'd seen worse things, hadn't she? … But she'd never seen anyone destroyed so cruelly by their own creations… Their own children. Was that when she turned on her father?

Well, whatever it was, it was probably best to play it out.

Blame the androids for all those rebels Cell killed… Sure, they were defying all authority by bluntly refusing to speak the Common Language, but she could get a nice gruesome story out of the children Cell seemed to think were just as responsible. Maybe Erasa would even distrust Seventeen, that would be nice…

"So many people died…" she continued, letting her voice drip with much more emotion than she really felt.

"It felt like…" Gohan managed to speak, his voice coated with emotions long forgotten, "Like I was the one dying."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

"What… What was it?" Sharpner carefully asked.

Gohan swallowed the big lump that resided in his throat.

"Heart attack. They took him straight to the hospital… During the operation, dad's heart just stopped. They managed to get it going again, but… Well, the doctors said his heart had been standing still for too long. That his brain had been deprived from oxygen for too long. Goku, he… he didn't wake up. Comatose."

He sighed.

"It was about a month before he finally woke up, and in the meantime Cell and the androids had killed hundreds of innocent people already. But he didn't fully return; not right away. When he first woke up, he was telling this nonsense story about how a boy came from the future with the medicine he needed. He realised it was all a dream soon enough though; after two days he never spoke of it again." He added as an afterthought: "As far as I know, anyway."

"But… I thought Cell wanted the androids…? Why'd he kill al those people?" Sharpner asked.

Gohan nodded, as though agreeing to a thought Sharpner hadn't realised that he voiced.

"His goal was to retrieve the androids, yes. Suffice it to say he got side-tracked. And in fact, it worked out perfectly for him. Somehow, he just happened to run into Vegeta, who was trying to persuade to follow him 17 to a safe place. He knocked Vegeta out cold, and brought back 17."

"To be honest, we hadn't a clue why he did it, let alone did we expect it," mused Videl, "At that time, we were convinced that Vegeta had left our midst for good. So, if he was truly happy at the Saiyan Enterprise, why? Why would he just hand us the android?"

She waited, allowing the question to really sink in.

"Um…" Erasa tried, "Maybe he was hoping you'd destroy 17 once you got him back?"

Videl nodded.

"Perhaps. Yet I don't think that's why he did it… Well, to get back to Cell, after delivering 17 to Dr. Gero and ensuring he was safely shut down, Cell tried to hunt down the two remaining androids. He returned 16 without all too much trouble, but as he had just captured the last android, 18, the only female of the trio, he was trapped. The entire staff of Saiyan Enterprise was there, waiting for him, each having brought a considerable escort of troops. He never saw it coming. Gods, he even had his kids with him…"

In a way, Videl was starting to enjoy her little one-man-show. Sure, his kids died. Whatever. She'd hated the brats to her very core, so no harm was done.

Not really.

She worked hard to suppress the grin that wanted desperately to creep upon her as she looked Erasa in the eyes, a look of dreadful anticipation obvious in the big blue eyes.

"Cell asked for mercy. He asked for safe passage for his seven small children…. Sharpner just laughed as his buddy Gohan brought up his rifle to start picking them off."

"No, it wasn't like that!" Gohan exclaimed, "They attacked us!"

Sharpner raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you said they were nine years old?" he sceptically noted.

"What, never seen seven identical… clones running at you with torture weapons, obviously brainwashed to the core to be even worse than the person whose DNA they share? Don't answer that. If you'd have been there… If you'd have seen it! I bet you you would have done the same."

"No way," Sharpner said with a strange resolve, "They could have been helped. Treated. Easily. There's no need for them to be killed, no matter how far gone they are. They have institutes for people like that."

Gohan shook his head, remembering all too clearly.

"Not for people like that. I tell you… They wouldn't stop. I tried to… to spare them. They wouldn't stop!"

"There was total panic, children running around, Cell crying, people screaming… I'm quite sure some of the troops actually turned on the Saiyans, but they got pretty much the same treatment as the children… He took his time, Gohan. He didn't just shoot them someplace lethal and be done with it… Each of the kids had at least 4 bullets shot into them. He… tortured them. Took out a leg. Took out another. Shot in the air again, to increase on the fear. Started on the other kids… One by one. None survived."

Erasa shook her head in disbelief.

"You're lying!" she exclaimed, "Gohan would never do that! Gohan is sweet, and caring… Not some kind of… Of…" She searched for words to describe the horror, but couldn't find any.

Videl laughed without humour.

"It is clear," she spoke, "That the Gohan I know and the Gohan you know are two different worlds entirely. Whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that you ended up on the brighter side of his persona, I don't know. I just know that knowing the real Gohan, however shocking, is better – safetywise."

"Don't look at me like that!" Gohan cried frustrated, "I'm not some sort of serial killer… It's not like I don't regret having to kill those children every single day… But not Cell. I don't regret killing him at all."

"… You killed the entire family?"

"No! Well… Yeah, but… Technically, I just killed Cell 8 times. When I said they were clones… They were clones. Perfect replica's, but for a few feet in height. Their names varied from Cell One to Cell Seven! … Products of a sick mind, they were. Nothing less, but definitely nothing more…"

Sharpner shook his head.

"They were children! No matter how 'evil' they might have been, they were, as you said, brainwashed! Brainwashing can be undone. They could have been saved! You had no right to kill them!" he spat out.

"I mean, come on," she continued, "I can see why a military leader would be too important to be left alive, but surely a bunch of eight-year-olds pose no threat to the great Saiyan Enterprise?" The last of her words were spat out in fury.

Erasa was caught off guard for just a moment, clearly confused by the mentioning of Cell's death.

"Oh yeah, it didn't stop with the kids!" Videl exclaimed, "After Gohan had finished off the children, Cell lost it. He charged in blind rage. He tried to shoot Gohan, but his father, Goku, caught the bullet. Gohan was untouched. The minute his father dropped to the floor, he shot Cell."

"When he shot my father, I just… I just lost it. I don't remember very clearly. I just charged straight at him, pinned him to the floor, and started pouncing. After a while, I noticed he'd dropped the gun, right there in my grasp. And so I… I shot him. In the head."

Sharpner shuddered at the thought. He knew very well, that if anyone would point out his father's killer to him, he'd do the same. Instantly. And somehow, that knowledge scared him. He could only imagine how Gohan felt, having actually done it…

Gohan literally shook off his solemn mood.

"He deserved it."

"It's never been calm again since then. It's a constant war between the two of us."

Videl mentally winced at her slip-up. Would she notice? Would Erasa know she had meant 'Gohan and me'?

"Attacks follow up at least once every two weeks," she quickly talked over it. As she spoke, she studied the girl closely. Erasa hadn't noticed. Her cover was still safe.

It wasn't common knowledge that she, Videl Satan, was the acting ruler of the Satan Corporation. It wasn't supposed to be common knowledge, either. To the world, and specifically, to the Saiyan Enterprise, she was just Videl Satan, Hercule's daughter. Just like Sharpner was just Sharpner Skool, Stapler's son.

But no, not like Sharpner was just Stapler's son. Sharpner had been exposed. Sharpner had been sucked into the game. Videl had simply stepped in.

"My dad ordered took me out of school, because of the risks," she continued, "I was home schooled for about a year and a half. Until – "

Her voice choked. She coughed.

"Until she died."

"We knew, of course, that Hercule Satan wouldn't be there. He never showed up at face-offs, and somehow I don't think he came along with stealth missions either. In fact, I don't think he ever left the safety of the mansion, choosing to direct his troops from the inside. A smart decision, of course. He was a target. Still, no one on our side was bothered by such restrictions."

Sharpner frowned slightly.

"Still, you all made it," he noted.

"Goku didn't," Gohan countered.

Sharpner shrugged. On the outside he agreed. Inside, he had his suspicions on how 'out there' they were. Somehow he had a feeling they would only show up after the battle had been fought.

"That's why we were shocked to see Mrs. Satan there."

"That Satan chick thinks I did it," Sharpner butted into the story.

An eyebrow rose.

"Odd," Gohan noted, "Anyway, she got killed."

"How did it happen?" Sharpner asked.

Not one muscle moved when Gohan answered, "Stray bullet."

"They shot her," she said, "In cold blood, they just shot her. It was planned all along."

Erasa was silent.

"Sharpner shot her," Videl said, reading her thoughts.

"But…" she managed to say.

"Why?" Videl finished her question.

She shrugged.

"Too important, I guess. Or maybe they were just trying to break down my father. Didn't work out as planned, though. He's never been more ruthless before then. Ever."

Erasa nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it. But another question was nagging at her conscience.

"And Vegeta?" Sharpner questioned, though it wasn't really a question, "Whose side is he on now?"

Gohan hesitated a moment, not sure what to say.

"He's on our side."

"And Vegeta? Whose side is he on now?"

Videl wondered briefly what to tell her.

"He's on our side."

By the time she arrived, Tom Kendall was already lost.

She was an attractive woman in her late twenties. The way she walked in… showed such routine, it cut him. Was this it? Of all people, was she to be his executioner?

She put down the tray she was carrying, and started working all the bolts and clips on the door. The tray was stacked with luxury food and drink. Tom relaxed a little, realising for the first time how tense he really was.

So they were going to interrogate him first. He still had time. They would set the plate just out of his reach, in his tied down condition, and wait for him to snap.

When she bent down to pick the tray up again, he realised she still hadn't looked at him, not once. Maybe… If he showed no signs of recognition, and kept to himself… Maybe he'd changed more than she had. Maybe she wouldn't even recognise him…

But while she stood up, he felt that familiar itch in his nose.

He sneezed.

Very loudly.

Recognition dawned on her even before she looked at him.

The tray dropped from her hands, it's contents clattering across the concrete floor.

Tom Kendall had always had a very recognisable sneeze, and now he cursed it into eternity.

When she turned to face him, many things streamed into that expressive face he had once known and love. Confusion and shock at first. Pain was there as well. Anger. One brisk movement of her head, and it was all replaced by a cold contempt.

"Cynthia…" he whispered through the sudden deafening silence.

Seventeen was just a few doors away when his sensors picked up the sound. He was enduring one of Captain Ginyu's 'humble' and 'short' briefings, to which it was only natural for his attention to spread out, far away from the Captain. Curious to the origins of the sound, he faked a call.

"Yes," he spoke, his hand pressed to his ear (where indeed a transmitter was installed, just not activated), "I'll be right there."

To Ginyu he merely said, "Sir," without bothering to apologise for the welcome interruption.

After leaving in direction of the Mansion, Seventeen doubled back, evading the office with a slight detour.

There was more to that sound than mere clumsiness. And he was determined to find out what.

"Cynthia…"

The word echoed strangely.

"Wha – What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer him. She never had.

"Why are you… Do you work here?" Tom asked her.

She just looked at him with that excruciatingly cold contempt.

His breathing was shallow now, and for once, words failed him, too.

"Why did you… Don't you… Did I really…"

Why did you turn evil? Don't you love life anymore, like you always used to? Did I really hurt you this much?

Cynthia could hear his thoughts. He knew she could. She'd always had a knack for that.

If she even cared, she hid it amazingly well.

She'd kill him.

He realised it in but a split second, and he knew immediately that it was true. The way their roads had separated, was unforgivable to her. But he also knew that he stood a chance. If only he could get her to see things differently, to feel, to hope… He might see daylight again.

"Cynthia…" he said again, sounding strangely hoarse, "What happened to you?" He made sure his voice was thick with emotions, worry most obvious. The look of sadness in his eyes when he looked at her cost him no trouble whatsoever.

She took a deep breath, and broke eyecontact. Her eyes now strayed to the simple table, where Tom's personal belongings were laid out.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Tom pleaded, "I can help you…"

At this she glanced at him briefly, mock evident in her eyes.

He chuckled, though it took him effort to make it sound amused.

"Yes," he complied, "I know I'm tied down, and can't do anything, but… I can make things right again."

Her hand slid over the table as she walked past its length. She stopped at Tom's wallet. Picking it up with vague interest, she flipped through it.

Realising he wasn't gaining turf just yet, Tom raised the stakes.

"I should never have left you."

Cynthia froze. He could tell. But she covered it well, slipping his wallet into her pocket. She gave him a cold look as she continued down the table, but looked away almost immediately at the hopeful desperation in his eyes. She picked up and put down a number of things, pointedly not looking at the man who betrayed her so many years ago.

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me," Tom lied, "I should never have let you go…"

She picked up his gun, and aimed it at a random stretch of wall.

"… And I regret it everyday," he added as an afterthought.

Almost unnoticeably she shook her head. The gun, too, was pocketed, and she walked over to the stack of crates. 'DYNAMITE' they read, in bold red print.

Curiously, Seventeen slid his fingers over the closed door. He could hear through it now. Someone was talking, but he couldn't figure out who the other person was. Whoever it was, they weren't responding.

The door was bolted shut from the inside, which in its own way was rather disappointing.

If only he could see what was on the other side of that door…

"Cynthia, I…" the only voice spoke. "I forgive you."

Seventeen frowned. Forgive you for what? Unknown to him, on the other side of that door, Cynthia was asking herself that very same question.

When Tom saw the look of sheer indignity on Cynthia's face, his heart leaped. He was getting to her! Then again, a different part of his mind quickly retorted, maybe it wasn't in a good way.

"For… For being a Satan, I mean," he chickened out. He had initially meant to forgive her for the bad break up, but seeing how he kicked her out, he didn't think she'd appreciate that.

Cynthia didn't appreciate this, either. She ruthlessly jerked one of the crates open, and pulled out just enough dynamite to blow up a door, or maybe, a man.

"Well, not that I mean you're evil, it's just that…" he stuttered as she resolutely walked over to him.

"I can change!" he called out in a moment of sheer terror, when she jammed the dynamite in between him and the ropes that held him. She shook her head again, and walked away, towards the door.

"I can leave the Saiyans for you! We can go back to how we were… I mean, sure, it's been eleven years, but…"

Cynthia turned around at this. Now her eyes seemed to read nothing but pure unadulterated disbelief. Did he do it? Did he win her over?

He didn't. She pulled out his wallet, and held it open for him to see. In it were several pictures of his wife and two children.

Tom started to look rather wild-eyed.

"I'd leave them for you!"

Once again, she shook her head, more to clear her mind than anything else.

He was getting to her!

"I still love you, Cynthia!"

She clutched here eyes tight shut, like she was trying not to listen. Head still shaking, one hand reached for the gun. His gun. His own gun.

Desperate for his life, Tom reached for drastic measures.

"They never meant anything to me!"

Her eyes shot open, and she actually recoiled. Disgusted, she threw the wallet to the side, and raised the gun. His gun. His own gun.

"I love you…" he repeated as a final plea.

She squeezed the trigger.

She'd always see those eyes. Teary, desperate eyes, they were. Deeper down, just below the surface, a strong feeling of betrayal had surfaced. Defeat was there. But what shocked her most in those eyes, those dying eyes, shreds of moments before the bullet hit the dynamite, was blind hatred.

And then the world exploded.

She held her ground in the whirlwind of crimson red and meaty pink. She held her ground in the storm of blood and gore. She held her ground, even though she could see the white splinters of bone poke out of the explosion of fire. She held her ground, despite the bits and bobs she was afraid to identify that splattered onto her.

She held her ground.

When the storm was over, when the air calmed and all that remained of Tom Kendall was no longer airborne, she still stood there, pointing her gun at a point that no longer existed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, her muscles started to relax. The gun dropped from her stiff fingers. Her legs unlocked from their firm grip on the ground. Her eyes tore away from those eyes, those eyes that no longer existed, and looked around. The wallet… It was still there, almost magically unharmed in the explosion. Cynthia picked it up, wiping off a piece of what she though might have once been Tom's heart. But no, it wasn't Tom's anymore. Just a piece of heart now… She looked around again, quickly finding the remains of the chair, still flaming amidst the remains of – the remains. Walking over, she dropped the wallet into the flames, and watched the pictures mould away.

"Bravo!"

Cynthia's head spun round at the sudden voice that spoke up. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound emerged.

Unlike her, the man wore a suit. Trademark sign that this was someone who never left the Satan Manor. But an air of rebellion surrounded him, and it was to be questioned whether he really restricted himself to the inside of the manor.

"So, what did he do? Cheat? Leave? Take your money?" the black-haired man asked with a strange kind of interest.

Still she found herself unable to speak. She hadn't spoken a word to Tom, not even tried to communicate. Somehow she got caught up in the act of silence.

"Well, never mind," Seventeen shrugged, "You'll talk when they come to take you in."

He briefly considered something.

"Then again, I may not want to be seen here…" he pondered out loud.

While she still stood there, too baffled to even feel, he started to walk away.

"Oh, by the way," he said, turning around a final time, "You've got a little something…" he said, while guiding his hand to his cheek to indicate her own. She wiped off a bit of brain.

"Yes, that's it," he said almost contently, as if the carnage merely amused him, and then he walked off. Closing and bolting the door behind him, she shuddered.

… She'd been covered in brains.