Brought to you by DarkVoid116
Disclaimer: TDS does not own Dragonball Z
I might be a pathological liar, a true faker, and the ultimate fraud, but above all else,the love I have for my daughter and my wife is unparalleled. Eleven years ago, I "defeated" an overgrown grasshopper. In reality, when the biomechanical android struck terror in the hearts of Earth's citizens, I was terrified. I mean, the creature could destroy an entire army with the flick of a wrist. How much power could he possibly possess? Were there any people on Earth with the kind of power to stop the terror that was Cell? Going into my fight with Cell, I didn't know if I could do this. Even after the fight with Cell, I was so stunned and mesmerized; I still didn't have an accurate gauge on the unfathomable power displayed that day. I am Hercule Satan, and I am credited with killing Cell.
That's just a coax, though. In reality, that fearsome emerald menace was murdered by a small fearless child of no more than eleven years of age. The boy was amazing and went about taking Cell down several notches efficiently, methodically and effortlessly; it was child's play. A mere boy toyed with the beast that killed millions! How was the kid accomplishing that? True, his aura was intimidating, and he literally looked like he wanted to hunt and destroy anything in his path. Every so often the kid would unleash a ferocious roar of agony and the ground would commence shaking; the boulders incinerating without being touched. It was bone-chilling; the little rock I hid myself behind barely withstood the massive explosions of power on the battlefield. The glare in his eyes spoke volumes: Cell had pissed the child off and he would pay.
The battle proceeded like that for a while. At one point Cell regurgitated a blonde beauty and then underwent a transformation. The other warriors gasped; then, whispers of the fight being 'over' and the kid 'having it in the bag' spread throughout the small crowd of fliers.
Eventually, Cell actually was gone. Whether he was dead or defeated, who cares? The bottom line was that he was gone and there was no trace left behind. Everything was fine and dandy, right? Wrong. The problem lied in the simple fact that the Delivery Boy and his pals also vanished without a trace. What is the world-renowned savior supposed to do in this situation? I wrestled with my sense of morality. Even all these years later I remember how troubling the decision to steal the glory of those warriors was. I mean, they were true warriors. They knew how to accomplish these 'light tricks'. They could fly and I have no doubt they could also obliterate the royal guard if they so pleased. I also had very little doubt that should a threat come along that was equivalent in ferocity and strength to Cell, these fighters would reveal themselves again and save the world once more. I assume they did not want the credit otherwise they would have stayed around, right?
Still though, the elder Golden-Haired man seemingly lost his life. How could I, a good man, steal the glory from a small child who had to deal with the grief of a lost parent? Having lost my wife just a year prior, I knew the emotional disconnect one experiences in wake of a familial death. My daughter and I needed all the moral support we could muster. Being a master martial artist certainly helped in that regard, but it was still tremendously difficult emotionally to deal with the aftereffects of my wife's death.
When the victims of Cell were resurrected was the only time in the last twelve years that I truly allowed myself to become absorbed by the feeling of missing my wife. I missed her terribly, but it still brought a genuine smile to my face to see families be reunited. I'll never forget the moment my public relations representative approached the float I resided in and whispered in my ear that all across the world Cell's victims were "waking up". Now, of course, I know what caused those miraculous revivals. The Dragon Balls did.
The Dragon Balls: I'm about to sound crazy, even in my own mind. I still cannot wrap my afro-covered brain around the fact that seven mythical orange spheres can come together to summon an all-powerful 'dragon', and that said 'dragon' has the power to revive people from death. It sounds absolutely ludicrous, but the resurrection of planet Earth after the Majin Buu debacle four years ago is definitely a testament to the power of the Dragon Balls.
For seven years after the slaying of Cell, I drowned myself in a preposterous combination of booze, floozies, and publicity- I'm ashamed to admit I most definitely neglected to show my daughter the attention she deserves. I can never make up lost time and treat her like the beautiful princess she is. I was, however, given the perfect example to make things right with her four years ago and nearly botched that golden opportunity.
At the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament, my daughter was brutally beaten by a fighter I had easily dispatched of at the previous competition. It didn't really make sense since I knew for a fact that my daughter was a more than capable fighter. But I didn't, at the time, have the extra time to think about this. I rushed in to Videl's room, not even giving the doctors or her other visitor a second glance. The sight which greeted me was a gruesome one. My little Sweet-Pea's body was broken and battered, her clothes torn, her limbs aimlessly at her sides. Her face was scrunched up in a clear indication of unseen pain. She was more than likely reliving the horrid beating Spopovich dealt out mere minutes earlier. It pained me to see my daughter so helpless.
In retrospect, I suppose that was the first time I met Son Gohan. He and my daughter had appeared quite close at the time, even if she had vehemently denied it, but it turns out my suspicions were right. What I didn't know at the time, yet do now, is that there is no better man for my princess in this universe than Gohan. You see, Gohan is the perfect gentleman. Raised in the mountain region by a strict mother, Gohan has a keen sense of morality and his manners scream both polite, mature man and scrawny bookworm. But Gohan is far from the weak nerd I originally envisioned him to be. The skyscraper-like dark-haired boy is actually the adult version of that emotionally scarred blond haired kid from eleven years ago. My baby girl met, befriended, and eventually fell in love with the truthful savior of planet Earth.
Man, oh man, was that an awkward conversation. Just reminiscing about it brings a cold shiver to my spine. The look in her eyes- those normally vibrant and lively ocean blue eyes- when I confirmed her suspicions (that Son Gohan, not me, her father, defeated Cell) tore my heart into thirds and fed it through a meat grinder. I had never seen my fiercely aggressive daughter so… so… defeated. Eventually, with the luck of a few thousand four leaf clovers, my daughter forgave me. But that's enough of a tangent.
Back to the World Martial Arts Tournament! Eventually my future son-in-law returned with some odd green bean, claiming his intentions were to instantly heal all of my sweet pea's nearly mortal wounds. I was appropriately skeptical that such a thing exists. After all, if it did, why weren't these magical healing drugs readily distributed at hospitals worldwide? But alas, apparently my concern didn't matter. My daughter whole-heartedly trusted this boy, and if he said it would work, she believed him. Imagine my surprise when her many dozens of scratches, bruises, and gashes which literally littered her body suddenly disappeared as if they were never there? The doctor, who originally agreed with me, stood slack-jawed, utterly stupefied with this latest development. One moment, Videl was hanging onto her life by a thread, the next it appears as if nothing ever happened. How is that humanly achievable? Videl quickly re-dressed herself and sprinted like a wolf hunting for its prey in the direction of the ring. Following at a more leisurely pace, I didn't see Gohan transform into what I now know as a Super Saiyan; nor did I see those two Majin goons' mischievous looks or their sinister grins as they slowly drained the teenaged superhero of all of his pure energy. I did, however, catch a glimpse of my innocent teenage daughter flying off into the horizon with the Great Saiyaman.
I wish I had seen Gohan transform, it would have prepared me for the onslaught of questions I was to be bombarded with when I arrived at that weird tiled palace-looking dome Bulma Brief called the "Lookout". My daughter was disappointed in me. It was never my intention to let down the most important person in my life. I had a lot of things going on, a lot of pressure resting on my shoulders. If I had a redo I never would have defiled the name of the great martial artists who have defended the Earth many times before. I would say to hell with the media and take the criticism for falling short. Luckily, the Sons forgive me and don't hold a grudge for stealing their rightful thunder. I suppose it's karma in the end. I steal Gohan's credit for slaying Cell and the uppermost kais repay Gohan by allowing for a chance meeting between my daughter and him. The rest, as they say, is history.
The past four years have been unbelievable. Some say it takes a knock to the noggin for someone to wake up and smell the coffee. For me, it took nearly losing the most important person in my life to stop caring about what others think of me and to start relishing in the adolescent years of my daughter. She's happily married, and pregnant with her and Gohan's first child, my first grandchild, and the Earth has been peaceful since the Majin Buu debacle four years ago, which I gained my best friend, Mr. Buu, out of. Life has twists and turns and the peer pressure might have led me to do things I'm not proud of in the past decade or so, but luckily the kais are a forgiving group, and have granted me a second chance to right the wrongs I've made, and I'm forever grateful for that opportunity.