Three years ago, a terrible evil was erased from the universe by the living embodiment of all that is good and peaceful and just: Mister Satan.

Okay, maybe not, but his role in those events can't be overlooked. It was his fame, his reputation—undeserved though it might have been at the time—that ultimately sparked in humanity the will to save itself.

Most of those who dwell on Chikyuu no longer remember that horrible day, the day Majin Buu came to kill us all. Only those who were there at the center of it all retained our memories of the entire course of events.

How many times has the world been threatened now, only to be saved by that strong, indomitable, carefree man who I once knew as a wild, innocent boy with a tail—or by his son? The Red Ribbon Army, Piccolo-daimaoh, the Saiyajin, Freeza, Garlic Jr., Kuura, the Jinzouningen, Cell, Majin Buu...and possibly others we were never aware of, crushed during those years when everyone was separated from one another.

Son Gokuu, one of my oldest and dearest friends...for this peace, I thank you, and I hope that this time, the peace you have bought us lasts.

—From the diary of Bulma Briefs

The End of Peace?!
The Queen Of Devils Appears!!

A beep sounded from somewhere on the cluttered console, and Bulma stirred sleepily. Fumbling around for a moment, she finally located the source of the noise, glaring at it with bloodshot eyes. "Dammit, I've gotta stop pulling these all-nighters," she muttered, wincing.

Standing and tugging at her coveralls, she padded off to the kitchen, where her lifemate was already seated at the table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Idly, she wondered what had made the once-fierce warrior so complacent as of late, but she never could get an answer out of him. "Vegeta," she greeted.

The Saiyajin prince grunted a half-greeting, not bothering to look up from his paper. "Glad to see you finally dragged your fat, ugly ass out of the lab," he said.

Bulma growled an incomprehensible insult and poured herself a cup of coffee. Bolting it back—and cringing as it burned her mouth—she set about rounding up a light breakfast. "Well, excuse me for having a company to run and new products to develop, unlike certain Saiyajin."

A rustle of pages. "If you'd let your underlings deal with the mundane trappings of Capsule Corporation, you'd be able to get more beauty sleep...you sorely need every minute of it you can get."

Bulma scowled. "I'll have you know that I'm no more ugly than I was the day you infected me with that horrible barbarian sperm which, by some miracle, created our handsome, strong, polite, perfect son."

Vegeta snorted. "Speaking of which, where is Trunks?"

Bulma shrugged. "I'm his mother, not his keeper. If he's not in the gravity room or in his room asleep, he's probably off with Goten somewhere."

Vegeta's scowl deepened, and he buried his nose in the paper again.

Hell is not a friendly place. Of course, this goes without saying. However, in the last fifteen years or so, Hell had been less friendly than usual, and Enma-daiou was nowhere near happy about it.

The afterlife had always functioned like a well-oiled machine. Mortals died, their souls left their bodies, they faced judgement by Enma-daiou, the good ones would go to Heaven and the evil ones were processed through the cleansing machine, stripped of their memories, and sent to Hell for rehabilitation prior to reincarnation. Because all souls in the afterlife are inevitably meant to be recycled, as it were, individual identity is forsaken, and every soul in the afterlife is represented by a fluffy little cloud, like a spiritual sheep.

In recent years, however, more and more denizens of the afterlife had been coming through the judgement palace completely intact, body and all. The entire administration of the afterlife had been thrown into an uproar by these recent arrivals, most of which were processed directly into Hell with no waiting due to their rather unpleasant and violent nature.

For the being who is supposedly the unchallengeable Lord of the Dead, the judge whose judgement is most final, the whole thing had been a bit of an upset.

In short, Enma-daiou had developed a rather bad ulcer in the last decade.

"For the last time, STOP BOTHERING ME!" the giant in the pinstripe suit roared at the figure poking its head out of a rather large desk drawer.

"No need to get testy," the otherworldly being with the shimmering halo floating over its head said. "We were just wondering when that splendid Majin Buu fellow would be joining us downstairs."

"You needn't concern yourself with Majin Buu," Enma-daiou rumbled. "His file disappeared in the system almost as soon as he was killed. We gave up looking for it after the first year."

"Such a pity," the figure sighed. "It would have been fun to challenge him."

"Is that all you wanted?" Enma-daiou asked. Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the figure from the drawer in one oversized fist, and hurled it through the archway behind him, into the golden clouds framing a long, winding road. "THEN GO BACK TO HELL!!"

An office oni appeared without needing to be summoned and handed the titanic ruler of the dead an oversized antacid tablet.

"Why do they keep pestering me?" Enma-daiou sighed. "It's something all the time. I have enough problems getting all the dead to where they belong, without these...these...abominations constantly bothering me."

"It's not your fault, Enma-daiou-sama," the oni said helpfully. "You're working hard to keep things running smoothly, and it's always been perfect. You can hardly help it if some of the beings that've died on Earth the last few years have been too strong for you to deal wi—" The oni froze as Enma-daiou GLARED at him.

"If you're not careful how you choose your words, I'll be feeding your soul to them when you die," the Lord of the Dead intoned coldly.

"Ahhh...yes, sir, sorry, sir. I'll be...going now. Paperwork to do, and stuff."

As the oni fled for his afterlife, Enma-daiou sighed, and hoped that the rest of the day would be relatively quiet.

An alarm chose that precise moment to blare throughout the palace of judgement...

"Ne, Oniichan, come spar with us today!"

Gohan ruffled his younger brother's hair affectionately. "Gomen na, Goten. I've got a lot of studying to do for these college entrance exams. I'm barely going to make the admissions deadline as it is, so I can't afford to blow it on the test."

Goten shuffled his feet. "You're always studyin'...you never wanna spar anymore..."

Gohan smiled. "You'd probably wipe the floor with me anyway. I'm so out of shape I wouldn't even be a challenge. You and Trunks can almost go Super Saiyajin 3 without fusing now, right?"

Goten beamed. "Un!"

Gohan chuckled. "Then I'd just get in the way of your training. I don't even know if I can hit the level I was at when I beat Cell anymore." Gohan's watch chose that moment to beep. "Chikushou...I forgot to turn off my call alarm..."

A tinny voice sounded from the watch speaker. //Don't worry about it, Gohan-kun, I've got this one. Study hard!//

Gohan smiled. "Arigatou, Videl-chan. Be careful." He then gave a quick smile to Goten. "I tell you what, I promise that I'll take you both to see a movie tonight, my treat."

"Hontou? Sugee!" Goten beamed, then waved goodbye as he headed off to tell his friend the good news. As Goten and Trunks flew off to wherever, Gohan smiled. *Those kids are going to be the strongest warriors alive someday,* he mused.

"GREETINGS everyone! I, the strongest warrior in history, the grand Martial Arts Champion, MISTER SATAN, have a great announcement!"

Videl switched out of her Great Saiyaman #2 costume and watched her father pose and posture in front of the camera. She shook her head sadly. *He never gives up...*

"As you know," Satan continued, "the Tenka-ichi Budokai is traditionally held every three to five years on Papaya Island, at the Budokai stadium. Today, I am here to tell you that, for the first time in history, the tournament of the strongest warriors on Earth is about to tour the world!"

Videl blinked. This was the first she'd heard of it.

"We'll soon be posting the schedule of tournament stops. In each city, there will be a one-month setup period during which any and all local fighters for that area may sign up. Only local talent will be accepted into each tournament stop! The top three in each tournament will be invited to attend the Satan City Budokai at the end of the world tour, where the sixteen finalists will be selected for the final Tenka-ichi Budokai at Papaya Island! The Budokai staff will be sharing the details with the public soon! So prepare yourself! If you're strong, and you're lucky, you might get the chance to fight the World Champion, MISTER SATAN!"

As Satan struck a final pose, the director signalled for a cut. Relaxing, the self-proclaimed World's Champion strode over to where his daughter stood. "Ah, Videl-chan, how are you today?"

Videl blinked. "What's all this about the Budokai?"

Satan laughed. "Isn't it great? It's a way to make the tournament even more popular, get a wider selection of warriors in, generate more revenues from people who can't make it out to the regular arena..."

Videl frowned. "Money, Papa? Mou..."

Satan shook his head. "That's only part of it." Glancing around, he leaned forward and whispered, "This is the only way any normal fighters have a chance, since the rules will prohibit...THEM from entering and cleaning everyone else out in the first round."

Videl narrowed her eyes. "So that's it. This is about...honestly, Papa, you are SHAMELESS sometimes." She groaned in frustration. Despite the fact that she was engaged to marry Gohan, and her father actually got along well with Gokuu and all the others these days, he still had his moments when it came to the fighting prowess of the Saiyajin and their friends.

Satan extended his hands in a placating gesture. "No, no, that's not it! I just think it's a good idea for all the...less powerful fighters to get their chance to shine, you know? I mean..."

Videl rubbed her chin. "Well, I guess it's a good idea..."

Satan smiled as innocently as he could manage. "Yosh', you approve, I'm happy." He struck a victory pose. "Oh...there's one more thing I wanted to ask you, Videl-chan..."

The denizens of Hell watched curiously as some sort of disturbance sent the guard oni into a frenzy. "Barrier alert!" one of the ogres shouted. "Something's trying to break into Hell!"

"What's this all about, I wonder?" a tall, green-armored figure with glossy black wings mused.

"Looks like something has their feathers ruffled," a short, off-white creature with a purple-domed head commented.

"This looks like it could get interesting," an orange-skinned being with long white hair said.

"Good, we could use some excitement around here," an extremely tall being with curved, bull-like horns spoke.

"BARRIER BREACH! Everyone be on your guard, something's trying to enter Hell without authorization!"

A blinding flash of energy brought silence and stillness to all the commotion, with the sole exception of a single alarm klaxon.

"Correction," a cultured female voice intoned. Everyone remaining turned to find out who had spoken.

She was extremely tall, with dark red skin and a muscular yet attractive build. Her garments were a curious cross between battle armor, a fighting dress, and regal robes. A long, violet cape waved stiffly behind her as she walked. Her narrow, sharp chin offset her high, pointed ears. Her slitted eyes burned with golden fire.

"Something HAS entered Hell."

"Ossu!"

Chichi jumped, surprised, and whirled around, eyes widening. "GOKUU-SA!"

The muscular, wild-haired warrior flashed his trademark carefree grin and waved. "Oi, Chichi! Been a long time."

The matronly woman's eyes shone with tears. "You ain't been home in nearly six months. I was gettin' worried..."

Gokuu smiled. "Gomen na, Chichi. I shouldn't stay away so long, but I get caught up."

Chichi nodded. "How's Uubu-kun?"

"He's fine. I left him in ano-yo."

Chichi stared at her husband. "ANO-YO!? What happened to him?"

Gokuu blinked, then chuckled. "Oh, not dead! It's endurance trainin'." He plopped down at the kitchen table. "I put him in five thousand kilo boots and told him to run Snake Road a hundred times. When he's done, I'll go pick him up."

Chichi stared at him for a moment longer, trying to wrap her mind around the concept (difficult to do, since she had only heard stories about the infamous road of heaven). She shrugged. "Well, whatever works, I guess. But you ain't stayin' to watch?"

The Saiyajin shook his head. "I got Kaiou-sama watchin' him." He grinned broadly. "If he makes it, his trainin's over."

The middle-aged woman's eyes widened. "Does that mean—?"

"Un. I'm comin' home, Chichi."

Chichi squealed, eyes wet with tears of joy, and threw herself at her husband. "Oh, Gokuu-sa!"

After a moment, Chichi released her husband from the hug of death, and Gokuu patted his stomach. "Fuaaaa...I'm starvin'!" He blinked. "Ne, ain't you usually fixin' dinner right about now?"

Chichi smiled. "I'm takin' the day off from cookin'...Satan's havin' a banquet tonight, and he invited everyone, so..."

Gokuu beamed. "Yosh'! Guess I better wash up..." He hmmed. "Bet I have time to see the kids first though. Mata ne, Chichi!" And just like that, he had vanished again.

Chichi stared at the spot where he had stood for a moment, then sighed. "Gokuu-sa..."

For several long minutes, the matron of the Son family simply stood there, the fading visage of her happy-go-lucky, eternally cheerful husband etched in her mind. Still young and handsome, Gokuu hadn't aged much at all in the last twenty years, while Chichi herself...

She glanced at a nearby mirror, every gray hair, every wrinkle, every line standing out from her reflection, and suddenly she felt twice as old as she really was. *My husband doesn't look much older than my eldest son...and I'm turning into a miserable old hag...* A lone tear trickled down her cheek, the herald of an all-too-frequent mood reversal.

Looking around the house, seeing there wasn't anything left to clean at the moment, Chichi nodded to herself. Grabbing her scarf and her purse, she hurried to the car. There was only one person who would understand how she felt...

Videl stared at her father. "You're serious."

"Hai, Videl-chan." Satan looked up at her with pleading eyes.

Videl frowned. "Papa...why the sudden interest? After all these years, all the time you've been complaining about 'trick' this and 'trick' that..."

The hard, tough, unshaven martial arts master drooped a bit. "I've let my ego get the better of me," he said. "I knew that a long time ago. I tried to do what they did, and I really thought I was so tough that if I couldn't do it, it must be a trick."

"Even though I could do it too?" Videl added.

Satan nodded miserably. "I've been in denial. But...the other day, I was looking at old tapes. Especially...that tape." He didn't need to elaborate on what "that tape" was; they both knew. "I think...I think I can finally admit to myself that...it's time for me to start training again. Really training, not just goofing around with my students and the weight machines." He smiled wistfully. "Most of all, though...even if I can only do it one time, I want to...fly."

Videl smiled. "Oh, Papa...okay. We'll start tomorrow."

Satan's eyes brimmed with tears as he stood and bowed deeply. "Hai...Sensei."

"It just isn't fair," Bulma muttered to herself, staring into the bottom of her second beer of the day. Shortly before noon, Vegeta had announced that Kakarotto had returned home, set aside his paper, decided that it was time for a good healthy spar, and taken off without so much as a goodbye.

Downing the remainder of the beer and reaching for a third, Bulma decided that sometimes, Saiyajin really pissed her off. "All of them. Even the damn kids. It's fight, fight, fight all the time. Fly here, blow this up, Super Saiyajin this, Kamehameha that, gravity this, ki that..."

"And just when you think they're gonna hang around an' spend some time with you, they realize there's not any food or fight in the house, an' off they go again," a voice broke into her musings.

Bulma started, looking blearily around. Her eyes finally focused on the familiar face of Chichi, and she waved. "Hey, didn't hear you come in..."

The unannounced guest smiled. "Gomen, the maid let me in. Said you were...well..." She indicated the empty beer bottles on the table.

The blue-haired woman snorted, then gestured toward the cooler. "Help yourself," she said. "I have a feeling you're in the same mood I'm in."

Chichi nodded, grabbing a beer and sitting down. "Gokuu-sa came home today."

"I know. Vegeta barely managed to grunt out something about 'Kakarotto' before he blazed out of here like a rocket."

Draining her beer in one swallow, Chichi winced in sympathy. "Gah. At least mine has the decency to say goodbye before he vanishes."

Bulma shrugged. "I expect it from Vegeta after all these years. Sometimes I wonder if I should try to kick him out, or just start ignoring him the way he ignores me."

"Gokuu-sa's a freakin' Romeo in comparison," Chichi said, hiccuping. "Still..."

The middle-aged inventor nodded. "The only things we're good for to them is food and sex."

Chichi barked out a harsh laugh. "Hey, at least yours WANTS sex! You got any idea what a miracle it is I got two kids?"

Bulma giggled. "Hey, I can believe it. I've known him longer than you have, y'know." She sighed. "Actually, Vegeta hardly ever wants it either, and it's pretty much my fault he ever wanted it to begin with."

The two women drank in silence for a long moment. "The hardest part..." Chichi began quietly.

"Yeah?"

A glimmer of tears shone in the dark-haired woman's eyes. "We're gettin' old, Bulma. Look at us."

"Speak for yourself," Bulma jibed, giggling. The look in her friend's eyes, however, dampened her humor quickly.

Chichi sighed. "Gohan's twenty now. Trunks and Goten're gonna be young men soon." She studied her hands. "Sure, we ain't senior citizens yet or nothin', but we're both past our prime. An' it shows...don't tell me you don't see it every time you look in the mirror."

Bulma grimaced and started on her fourth beer.

"We're gettin' old. But...but THEY'RE not." Chichi sipped at another beer. "They look...just like they did..."

The blue-haired woman sighed and nodded. "They won't," she admitted. "I haven't asked Vegeta about it, because I don't think I can endure his teasing, but..." She shook her head. "I ran a few tests on some samples I took a couple months ago." She took a sip of her drink. "Mind you, I've only been able to test Vegeta—I'd test Trunks, but he's half-human...but near as I can tell, Saiyajin adults simply don't age. It's as if once they're done growing, they stop."

"It sure seems that way," Chichi said. "Are you sure, though?"

Bulma nodded. "Aging is a process of tissue degeneration and breakdown. The samples I tested were only a couple days old, but I don't think I could have distinguished them from twenty YEAR old samples. There just wasn't any degradation."

"So..." Chichi stared mournfully into her beer. "What you're sayin' is we're gonna keep getting older, and they..."

The two women spent a long time drinking in silence, lost in thought.

At length, Bulma slammed her bottle down on the table. "I have an idea." Grabbing Chichi's hand, she dragged her off into the depths of the compound.

"Hey, wait up!"

"Quaint little place you have here," the alien woman commented as she strolled leisurely around the circumference of a kidney-shaped pool of blood. "Dark, dank, vaguely disturbing...very quaint."

"We do try to keep a certain air about the decor," the largest figure present said. "And who might you be?"

The red-skinned creature ignored him, instead casually surveying the ranks of those present. After taking a silent head count, she swiftly plucked up a squat, wrinkled, greenish-brown creature with large eyes. "Where is he?" she hissed.

The small creature struggled. "Where's who? Who are you looking for?"

Golden eyes narrowed. "Don't play stupid with me, Babi-di. I want to know what happened to my brother."

The diminuitive sorcerer's eyes widened. "Your b-b-b-brother? How s-should I know anything about your b-brother? I don't even know who y-you—" He paused for a moment, studying her face carefully...then blinked. "W-wait. Y-you don't m-mean..." He gasped as her hand tightened around his throat.

"They say you bent him to your will somehow," the woman commented, her voice oozing cold malice. "I find it hard to believe that such a pathetic, cowardly little runt managed so incredible a feat."

Another of those present—the small, lithe white lizard-being with the purple scalp—stepped forward. "You aren't by any chance referring to a fellow by the name of Dabura, are you?"

The blazing gold eyes turned, locking on the reptilian creature. "That's right. Do you know where he is?"

The lizard shrugged, smirking. "Well, after he died, the big oaf that runs this place sent him up to Heaven." He chuckled. "They figured he'd like it too much here, so the other place would be more of a Hell for him!"

The red-skinned woman snarled, tossing the sorcerer aside. "Blast it! I can't enter a place of light."

"Pardon me, but...may I assume, then, that you are from the realm of darkness?"

The newcomer straightened, assuming a haughty air. "I am heir apparent to the dimension of evil, soon to be crowned its queen at the next blood moon. You may call me Toripura."

The lizard seemed suitably impressed, sketching a slight bow. "Former lord of the galaxy, Freeza, at your service." Freeza made a quick round of introductions.

Toripura took stock of the assembled group. "Quite an interesting bunch of warriors. You would make fine soldiers...yes, you could all be of great use to me."

Freeza smoothly covered his indignation at being thought of as a subordinate. "It's a pity all of us are dead."

The Queen of Darkness raised an eyebrow. "This is something that can be remedied easily."

The assembled group murmured amongst themselves. "You can restore our lives?"

"That, and more."

"In exchange for...?"

"Fealty to me."

There was another conference. "An interesting offer, but ultimately not worthwhile."

Toripura smiled, pupils becoming more slitted. "And revenge."

Another wave of murmurs. "You've got our attention. Do go on."

The demon woman circled the group. "My brother was content to corrupt souls discretely, a few at a time. The traditional way of our people." She paused. "I, on the other hand, have always envisioned...more.

"There's simply not much in the way of fun to be had in my world. It's gotten incredibly dreary as of late. So I figure..." She licked her lips. "As much as I miss my dear, dear brother, I intend to use this opportunity...to invade."

"You mean...to take the living world? By force?" the poised, regal being known as Cell asked.

"Precisely," Toripura said. "If you agree to serve me...you will be my generals. You will sound the battle cry and lead the forces of darkness to do battle in the mortal realm." She fixed each of the assembled beings with a probing gaze. "I can read the evil in your hearts. You yearn to live again, not just for revenge...you long to bring terror to the weak, to ravage and destroy. Yes...I see it in each of you." She smiled. "Swear allegiance to me, and you shall have everything you desire."

There was another conference, then Freeza stepped forward and bowed. "At your service...my Queen."

Toripura grinned. "Excellent." She glanced around. "Now, all we need to do is prepare the ritual, and we can get to work."

"You're sloppy, Vegeta," a golden-haired Gokuu said, grinning as he hammered another punch into the shorter warrior's back.

"Kusottare!" Vegeta spat, blurring behind Gokuu and aiming a fierce crescent kick at his kidneys, which was deftly blocked as the larger Saiyajin dropped suddenly and extended a forearm behind him. "I can still kick your worthless ass any day of the week, Kakarotto!"

"Oi oi!" A sudden explosion separated the two fighters. A cocky, dual-toned voice rang out from somewhere below them. "I'll kick both your butts, you old geezers!"

The two Saiyajin stared down at the overconfident young man standing on the ground, hands planted on his hips. They then shared a knowing glance. "I think someone needs a spanking," Vegeta commented.

Gokuu grinned. "Un!" The warriors dove toward the ground in unison, two heels aimed at the fused boy's head. As expected, Gotenks blurred out of view...only to be met by a vicious chop to the neck as Gokuu reappeared behind him. Vegeta was suddenly in the younger fighter's face, delivering a hard punch to the solar plexus. Gotenks gasped for air, then exploded out of the fight, taking to the sky. Gokuu and Vegeta gave chase.

The young fusion grinned. "Oi oi! Better stay back!" He pursed his lips and blew a bubble.

Gokuu froze. "Anou, Gotenks..."

"Super Ghost Kamikaze Attack!" A wispy bluish-white apparition bearing the evilly grinning visage of Gotenks sped toward the older Saiyajin.

"CHIKUSHOU!" Vegeta snarled, unloading a volley of ki blasts at the explosive clone before it could get too close. It weaved around most of his shots, but was nailed when Gokuu joined in the assault. "Kisama!" Vegeta yelled at the fused teenager. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Tryin' to get you old farts to take me seriously!" Gotenks said, sticking out his tongue. "Comeoncomeoncomeon! You KNOW I don't have all day!"

Gokuu and Vegeta glanced at one another. The arrogant prince snorted. "Che. No way in HELL..."

"Anou na...c'mon Vegeta, it's not so bad. Anyway, nobody's around."

Vegeta glowered for a moment, arms crossed. He looked at Gokuu, then at the arrogant little bastard that was both their sons combined. Finally, he sighed. "Oh, very well."

Gokuu grinned. "Yosh'!" The two Saiyajin moved into position.

"FU—SION! HAAAAAAA!!"

The blinding light show faded away to reveal a lean, powerfully built Super Saiyajin in white trousers and a black vest with orange trim. He smirked at the younger, smaller fusion, arms crossed, and spoke with a voice that was at once arrogant, hard, carefree, and mirthful. "Now...who were you calling an old fart?"

The sky blazed with numerous explosions as Gotenks was taught a lesson in respecting his elders.

"Sugee," Chichi breathed, staring at the small wooden box Bulma held. "When did you—?"

"I get bored easily," Bulma replied simply. "Sometimes I just need to take a break, and with Vegeta and Trunks always off doing their own thing..."

Chichi nodded, picking up one of the shimmering amber orbs and admiring it. "So you take off an' find the Dragonballs."

"Yeah," Bulma said. "I've actually had all seven of 'em for a few months."

"An' you didn't make a wish yet?" Chichi asked, replacing the precious ball in its slot within the ornate, padded box.

Bulma shrugged. "Couldn't think of anything worth wishing for," she admitted. "Until now, anyway."

Chichi eyed her suspiciously. "Okay, what're you up to?"

Bulma grinned. "Wanna get the guys to notice us again?"

Chichi blinked, then smiled. "Well, I guess it'd be nice..."

Bulma closed the box and put an arm around Chichi. "Come on, we've got a wish to make."

"You're slow, old man!"

"I'll show you slow!"

Gogeta and Gotenks blazed through the sky, covering miles of terrain as they traded blows, grappled, evaded, and disengaged. Both had numerous minor bruises and abrasions, but neither were anywhere close to breaking a sweat. People in nearby cities found themselves wondering what the bizarre explosions in the sky were, and more than a few UFO reports were called in.

Suddenly, despite it being early afternoon, the sky became pitch black. The two fused Saiyajin froze mid-motion, glancing around. "Nani?" Gogeta wondered.

"The Dragonballs..." Gotenks said. "It's Shenron, isn't it?"

Gogeta nodded. "Un...someone's making a wish."

Gotenks began to glow, then ceased to exist. "Crap," Trunks muttered. A moment later, Vegeta and Gokuu reappeared where Gogeta had been.

"Well, that was a good spar..." Gokuu trailed off. "Nani...?"

Vegeta gasped, turning in the direction of Capsule Corporation. "Bulma...?" He rocketed away, leaving a sonic boom in his wake.

Gokuu's eyes widened. "Chichi...! Somethin's happened...!" He touched his fingers to his forehead...then paused, a puzzled look on his face.

Goten tugged at his sleeve. "Ne, Tousan, what's goin' on?"

"I don't know, Goten," Gokuu admitted. "Let's hurry." The trio followed in Vegeta's wake.

Vegeta didn't bother to express his disgust at how easily Kakarotto and the two brats had caught up with him. His concern for his mate took precedence in his mind. *This is...I can't figure out what's going on here. Kuso...*

"Ne, Vegeta," Gokuu said. "Chichi's ki feels weird."

"So does Bulma's," Vegeta grunted. "It doesn't make sense."

"Un," Gokuu agreed. "It almost feels..."

The quartet arrived at Capsule Corp, and stared at what awaited them in the well-tended garden.

Two women lay on the ground near an empty wooden box. Both were unconscious, but the four warriors could easily tell they were alive. Their faces and mode of dress provided the only clues as to their identity—though even their husbands and sons were having trouble reconciling what they saw and felt with what they knew.

The two women looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. One wore rumpled coveralls bearing the Capsule Corp logo; the other wore a frumpy maroon dress. Both women sported wild manes of spiky hair, colored blue and black respectively.

Thick, furry tails lay at their sides, twitching with the rhythm of their breath.

Vegeta growled. "Damned woman."

Ossu! Ora Gokuu!
Nani yo, Chichi!? What were you and Bulma thinking!? Turnin' yourselves into Saiyajin? That was crazy!
But we've got worse problems than that now, so we're just gonna hafta deal with it. Eh!? What happened in ano-yo!? Shimatta! Everyone got out of Hell!?

Next Dragonball Theta: "Assemble The Strongest Warriors!! Hell Explodes!!" Mata ne!

POWERED BY DREAMHOST