Gohan glared daggers at the girl in front of him. What could she possibly want? She had, after all, just ruined his life beyond comprehension.

"Gohan, please!" exclaimed Videl. "Just let me explain."

He didn't even afford her a glance. He couldn't bring himself to, not after all that she had done.

"Hear me out, Gohan… please. I didn't mean to…"

Her words fell on deaf ears as he left the panicked girl in his footsteps. He had trusted her with everything - his secrets, his identity, his whole world. He had poured his heart out to her and she had taken advantage of that.

Just when he had thought that the two of them were getting somewhere since the cat was finally out of the bag, she turned around and told the rest of the world. Now, scientists wanted to cut him open and examine a Saiyan esophagus, the unpopulated mountain ranges he lived in were awash with reporters and Capsule Corp. had been on lockdown for the past three days.

Gohan didn't even know how Kame House was doing because he didn't want to give them a headstart in the mad dash to find every aspect of his life and flip it upside down. Helicopters circled around him wherever he went and he wouldn't be surprised if their phones were being tapped — all in all, he would do well to not subject Krillin, Eighteen and Master Roshi to the same treatment he had enured.

The school had gone so far as to enlist the the help of a private security company to hold off the vicious tabloid journalists that were desperate to get a scoop on Planet Earth's newest freak. He figured it was a measure designed to protect the rest of the students as much as him, but it was a shame that nothing could be done to shelter him from the student body.

Whispers that Gohan shouldn't have been able to hear were everywhere - risqué girls wondering if all aliens were 'as sexy' as him to juniors labelling him abomination and everything in between. Lines at the drink tap instantly parted for him and people wouldn't dare to even use a urinal on the same side of the bathroom as him. The worst, by far, was the graffiti all over his locker given that it was the closest he seemed to get to actual communication with his peers these days.

Some of his teachers treated him as though they were none-the-wiser of the events that had unfolded over the past week. They called his name when he raised his hand and answered the questions he asked. Others weren't so professional.

He supposed that he couldn't blame them, though. There was only one person responsible for his current predicament and her evidence was nigh-irrefutable.

Who could deny the portrait she had painted with the dots he had described to her in perfect detail? He should have known better than to naively assume she had been asking all those questions because she wanted to learn more about martial arts. The people who could shoot magical beams at older World Martial Arts Tournaments and the freaks who had single-handedly toppled the Red Ribbon Army and King Piccolo's regime were all hearsay.

The Cell Games were the most important piece of the puzzle. In high definition broadcast, fighters of all sorts banded together to defeat Cell - from warriors that could destroy an entire arena in the blink of an eye to a green alien that looked suspiciously like King Piccolo. Once she had connected those fighters to Saiyaman, no viable counter argument remained. It was clear to the world that aliens capable of terrible feats walked amongst them.

His secret was out, and it was all her fault.

…

A sea of curious reporters had surrounded the Capsule Corporation building for the past few days. The nuisances had occupied the usually lively street to the point that the area had been deemed off limits by white and orange striped barricades. Some reporters had even found their way into the front yard, despite law enforcement's best efforts to keep them at bay.

A handful of police officers had parked their patrol cars close to the action and were watching the crowd cautiously. The reporters had become violent during the extended gathering and they were to ensure it did not happen again. Removing the anxious reporters would be far too troublesome, therefore keeping watch was the only thing they could do.

The crowd waited hours upon hours for a chance to corner their prey, which, in this case, was anyone inside that dome-shaped building. Each and every one of them wanted the exclusive scoop that their competitors didn't have. The interview that entire world was waiting for was so close. It was the talk of the world, the story everyone wanted to know a bit more about.

Capsule Corp. and their connection to the aliens secretly residing on Earth.

Every reporter kept an eye focused on the grey door to Capsule Corp., willing it to open and allow the crowd to flood inside and demand the interview they had been impatiently awaiting. For many, this was to be the highlight of their career. At the very least it could gift them a long-awaited promotion.

The area was in no way quiet. The reporters spoke among themselves, simply passing the time while awaiting the main event. They spat insults at their competitors and pushed their way through the crowd to ensure they had the best angle.

Their endless chatter ceased the second they noticed the door to Capsule Corporation sliding open. Reporters pushed their way through the crowd as the camera-men sought a better angle. The crowd erupted into chaos as they watched the president herself, Bulma Briefs, step outside followed by two personal guards wearing white polo shirts with the Capsule Corporation logo printed on them.

Almost instantly she was ambushed by reporters, forcing her back a few paces. The police officers previously guarding the gates were overwhelmed by the number of eager reporters forcing their way in. The two guards began working on pushing the crowd backward.

"Get back! One at a time!" they yelled, yet not a single reporter heard nor cared what the security ordered. They continued their merciless assault on the president that they had waited so long to see.

The guards narrowed their eyes, glaring at the crowd as they ushered the reporters back. Some of the nearby police had joined them in the effort, but the crowd was tough.

"That's enough!" This time the voices were more commanding, yet still could not reach the persistent reporters. It was beginning to annoy Bulma. She glared as she stepped forward, making use of the small amount of space her security had made for her.

"Quit it already or else nobody gets an interview!" her deafening voice called out. That got their attention.

The reporters quieted, only whispers came from their lips. Bulma smiled at her small victory. The guards were able to push them back easily now, giving her enough room to feel comfortable.

They had warned her that this would happen, but she was far too stubborn to heed the words of her hired security. Capsule Corporation recently had many an opening for personal guards for Bulma as well as other possible targets. They had also lost a great deal of various employees from the stress of Capsule Corp. being a target for the media, security being a large portion. They just weren't accustomed to the work they would be doing. An attempted robbery or escort of a troublesome visitor was the extent of their action previously.

After the news of the Saiyans reached the public, people quickly made the connections between these aliens and her husband, Vegeta. They had hoped to corner him but they were to have no such luck. As soon as Vegeta had heard of this trivial matter he had left, claiming to have no time for these things.

This was Bulma's first time addressing the public after the news got out. She was nervous, to say the least. The reporters were enthusiastic, that was certain. This wasn't the first time she had been interviewed, but it was the under the worst circumstances yet.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When they opened once again, false bravado shone through. She was ready.

"That's more like it. Now, you wanted an interview?" she asked.

The reporters begged for her attention, raising their cameras to the sky and their microphone to their target. They pleaded with their eyes as she scanned the crowd.

"Alright, spit it out," she said to a middle-aged man a few feet away. He nodded to his cameraman.

"Mrs. Briefs, are you also a… Saiyan?" the reporter asked, glancing down at a notecard before speaking the name of the alien race. He shoved his microphone toward Bulma's face, a little too close for her liking. She pulled her head away a bit before stating her answer with a glare.

"No, I am not a Saiyan! I'm a human just like the rest of you." Bulma turned away, clearly offended. The reporter pulled his microphone away, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

She turned her attention to a woman holding a microphone on her left. "What about you? Do you have any other insane propositions?"

"Um, well, we were wondering e-exactly how long this information has been... concealed?" The reporter held up the microphone with a shaky hand.

Bulma scratched her head in thought as her eyes gazed up to the left. "Let's see… Raditz was the first Saiyan we knew about and that was… how many years ago?" she mumbled to herself.

She stood there in thought for a few moments, leaving the reporters restless. They whispered to each other, glancing nervously at Bulma.

"Er, Mrs. Briefs?" The reporter called. Bulma snapped out of thought and turned to her.

"Oh, sorry. I believe we've known about the Saiyans for about... 13 years? Yeah, around 13 years," Bulma said. Audible gasps came from the crowd. Reporters mumbled about how great the amount of time was.

"These aliens have been living among us for 13 years?" she gasped.

"Well, not exactly. We only found out about them 13 years ago. They've been here longer than that. At least, one of them has," Bulma admitted.

A second round of gasps came from the horde. The reporter's eyes widened as she quickly asked another question.

"Why were kept in the dark so long? Is there a reason we have been unaware of the aliens living among us?" Her fear seemed to have been replaced by curiosity and anxiousness. Other reported perked up at the question, nodding and whispering to each other.

Bulma sighed. She had hoped this question wouldn't come up, but she had planned for it either way. It was difficult to answer, seeing as every response had a different outcome. If they knew that the Saiyans had saved their world from destruction so many times, as well as being the direct cause of many threats, how would governments react? They were already on high alert, all they needed was proof that these aliens were threats to Earth's safety and they'd be able to take action.

"We thought it was better if the Saiyans lived peacefully. We didn't want people to panic like they are now," she explained. It was mostly the truth. She hoped they wouldn't press further, but knew that more would have to be revealed eventually.

Luckily, the woman seemed pleased with the answer. She mumbled a quick thanks and Bulma searched for the next reporter. She turned to a young man who shook his hand in the air and jumped anxiously.

"Yes?" Bulma asked. The man moved up a bit closer and beamed happily.

"Mrs. Briefs, we already know that these Saiyans have existed among us for a long time, but we're wondering if there might be other aliens that we haven't heard of. Since you've covered up Saiyans for this long, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume there are other species among us that we haven't noticed yet. Maybe even species that aren't among us. Do you happen to know of any other aliens?" the young man asked.

Bulma nodded. "Yeah, there are definitely all sorts of aliens out there, but the Saiyans are the only ones who have had human contact so far. I'm sure future encounters with extraterrestrials will be publicly announced," she answered. The man smiled and nodded.

"But have the Saiyans had any contact with other beings? If they've perfected their space travel to the point they can travel to Earth, shouldn't they have been able to find other planets with life?" he asked.

"We don't know much about where the Saiyans have been, but much of the life they met before Earth is extremely far from Earth. We won't have a chance of encountering them until technology improves significantly," she said. It was best to withhold the full truth from the public, at least for now.

Another young woman called for attention. She waved her hand in the air frantically and Bulma eyed it.

"Yeah?" Bulma asked.

"Is Capsule Corporation currently working on space travel?" the reporter questioned. Bulma shook her head.

"We have discussed it, but at this point in time, we can not properly answer your question," Bulma explained. To Bulma's surprise, the woman glared at her.

"Why can't you? Are you keeping something from us?" she demanded.

"No, miss. We are not hiding anything. We will reveal our project plans whenever we feel that they are achievable and represent a suitable return on investment, if we even deem them possible at all," the president of Capsule Corp. stated. The woman still seemed distrustful.

"Why should we believe you? You kept the first communication with intelligent life from us. How can we trust you won't keep space travel from us? Capsule Corporation is full of liars and conspirators! Can we trust them at all? Why do we still allow them to lie to our faces? We need the truth!" the reporter began to shout.

One of Bulma's guards placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to gently lead her away, but she was persistent.

"We need the truth! We know you and everyone at Capsule Corp. are liars," she continued to scream, even after the guard began to drag her away from the crowd.

She took a swing at him, but the clumsy attempt missed. She began to struggle, kicking her legs and swinging her arms at anyone unlucky enough to be in her way.

"You can't keep quiet forever. The people will find out one day."

Two police officers approach her with their silver handcuffs already in hand. They tried to speak with the woman, but to no avail. She continued her rant with no regard for the officers trying to lead her away.

"Get off me!" she shouted, turning to one and pulling back her fist. The second officer restrained her arm and held both of her arms together. The first officer opened the handcuffs and clamped them shut around her wrists.

They began to lead her to their police car as she screamed indecipherable ramblings all the way. The bodyguard returned to his previous position, the threat now removed. The second bodyguard walked toward Bulma and whispered into her ear.

Bulma let out a tired sigh. She had hoped to finish this without any troublesome reporters. She nodded and addressed the crowd.

"I assume that's a sign that we should finish up for today. I hope you all have a good afternoon," she concluded. The crowd became unruly once more. They began to close in around Bulma, not yet satisfied.

Her two bodyguards ushered her inside as the cameras flashed around her. Questions were impossible to hear over the noise of the crowd. Bulma had to hurry past many reporters to reach the front door.

A few questions, however, stood out among the rest.

"Mrs. Briefs, will the Saiyans ever address the public?"

"Is the Saiyan here?"

"What does your husband, the Saiyan, think of all of this?"

Questions regarding Vegeta took up the majority of the reporters' requests. It was obvious that they would be curious as to the perspective of a Saiyan. Bulma stopped at the doorway to Capsule Corp. and turned around, facing the crowd.

"My husband, or any Saiyan for that matter, will not be addressing anyone. He is not here, and probably will not be here for a while. You won't get an interview out of him!" she shouted. The security rushed her through the doorway as soon as she was finished with her response, allowing the restless reporters to return to their previous state of disarray.

She sighed with relief as she heard the door slide closed behind her. She was safe, no longer bombarded by paparazzi or reporters. It felt shockingly silent in the building, her bodyguards' footsteps the only noise echoing through the lobby.

"You two are dismissed," she said nonchalantly. The guards gave stiff nods and took up positions on either side of the doorway.

Bulma stepped into the nearby elevator and tapped a button labeled "2". The doors closed and the elevator began to rise, only to stop a few seconds later. The doors slid open once more and Bulma stepped out, walking straight to her personal room.

"Mom!" a voice called out down the hallway. Bulma turned and smiled as she recognized her purple-haired son running toward her.

"Hey, Trunks," Bulma greeted. Trunks slid to a halt in front of her.

"How'd the thing with the reporters go? They didn't give you any trouble, did they?" he asked.

"Of course not. It all went fine," she responded.

"Great! So, when's all this going to be over? I'm getting bored being cooped up in the house all day," he said. Bulma sighed.

"I'm sure it'll be over soon, Trunks. You can find something to keep you occupied, can't you?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't understand why I can't go visit Goten because of all this. Couldn't he at least come here?" he asked.

"He's dealing with the same thing right now. I promise you two will be able to meet up soon. Until then, you'll just have to stay here," she said.

"Fine," Trunks sighed. Bulma smiled and bent down to plant a motherly kiss on his forehead. He promptly wiped it with his sleeve.

"Alright, go find something to do," she ordered. Trunks nodded and ran down the hall. Bulma sadly smiled as she saw him go.

She hoped this all would blow over soon. She knew that she wasn't the only one affected and she definitely wasn't feeling the worst of it.

…

"You're going to have to get over it eventually, y'know," said Hercule as he cut into his steak. "We're in this together now."

"We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't taken credit for something you didn't actually do," said Videl, watching her father fix himself another generous serving of wine with disdain. Their butler had quit yesterday and Videl would have been sure the cook would be to follow suit if it wasn't for the fact that she was a plump foreign lady of fifty-something years who barely spoke the language - not exactly the kind to care about the talk of the town or, as it happened, the freshly-minted local pariahs.

"We've had this conversation before, sweet pea." Hercule sighed. "I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to actually beat that alien freakazoid, but if you'd just been there you would understand. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, truly, and then the kid and all his weird pals just up and left and I-"

"Felt the need to fill in the blanks with 'Mr. Satan' for the rest of the world?" Videl interrupted. "I started thinking you were lame when I was sixteen, dad, but I never imagined you were a cheat… a fraud."

"I just wanted the best for us," Hercule admitted. "Yes, it was selfish - and wrong - but your mother had just passed and I wanted you to be proud of me... for you to grow up comfortably."

Videl refused to meet his gaze. "Whatever. I guess I'm more irritated with myself for being so stupid anyway."

Hercule paused to chew and swallow his food. "What do you mean?"

"I was just so excited when I found out that Gohan actually was Saiyaman. I don't know what overcame me; I just had to to find out more. And what he told me was so mind blowing that I felt the world had a right to know. I didn't want this, though," said Videl as she waved her hands around for good effect. "Now the Satan name is a joke and Gohan won't even bat an eyelid at me."

"This Gohan kid that you're so hung up on. Is he some boy in your class?" asked Hercule after a moment or two.

"Yes, dad. He's the one the media's been going nuts about this whole past week. Y'know, the Great Saiyaman, the blond kid who actually defeated Cell?" she said with an arched eyebrow.

"Oh, okay. Just making sure is all, sweetie."

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, what was with her dad and guys?

"You shouldn't blame yourself, though," he advised, seemingly back to reality. "You didn't do anything wrong. You weren't the one lying about anything and you put the truth out there for everyone even though it didn't cast you in the greatest light."

"I guess," Videl said unconvincingly. "Anyway, I have some homework I better get started on. It's already late."

She scuttled off to her room moments later but that wasn't what concerned Hercule.

She hadn't even touched the food on her plate.

…

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