"Grr, hapless coward!" Mr. Satan picked up the huge news camera in one hand then looked through the viewport at the mushroom cloud rising from where a good sized mountain of granite existed a moment before. All he saw was black.
"Dammit!" he kicked the cameraman, "Show me how to work this thing!"

"Unghhh, momiee, I don't wanna go to school today..." the cameraman rolled over and suckled on his thumb.

TV guy started to keel over on his feet, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Without missing a beat, Hercule grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him like a child's least favorite doll.
"Get this camera working! If I am to defeat Cell, I have to find out where he's hiding all the wires and bombs, damn you!"


Vegeta grumbled to himself and spat. Trunks gaped at his father, unable to believe what Vegeta already accepted. Five long minutes had passed. Goku's energy was still gone, as was Cell's.

"No. I won't believe it..." Gohan said. He was only thirteen years old.
To Piccolo, the boy had grown into a true man over the last five years. And, despite his belief that Gohan was now a true warrior, his love for his student allowed him just enough to forgive the tears streaming down Gohan's face. Or was that Kami's weak heart inside his chest now?
"Me either, kid," Piccolo said, and rested a thick, green hand on Gohan's shoulder.

"Oh you can believe it!" a familiar, sinister voice rang in echoes all throughout the valley. The voice paused only long enough for the Z-Fighters to utter confused and fearful exclamations. Then Cell's voice blared again through the hills with heinous, ululating cackles. Below the two plateaus flanking the valley, Cell's tournament ring suddenly imploded into the ground, leaving a crater that Perfect Cell levitated unharmed out of.
"Look at you all! Ha, how can you defend your helpless planet with your jaws hanging to the ground like that?" Cell's voice was full of arrogant glee.

Vegeta yammered incoherent refusals to believe his eyes. Trunks bit his tongue and steeled himself against dispair. Gohan fell to his knees and cracked the stone beneath him with his fists, unwilling to let Cell see him cry.

"How could you do that to yourselves, letting your greatest champion enter my Cell Games first?" Cell hovered just above the plateau's height, laughing over the Z-Fighters. "Well, I had longed to fight Goku, and he did not dissapoint!" Cell raised his hands.
"The tournament is over! The first match ended in... A draw!"
Cell guffawed, slapping his knees and holding his ribs.

"Double ring-out! Can you all believe it? The legendary Goku made Perfection touch the ground against my will!" Cell turned from plateau to plateau, eyeing each fighter in turn.
"You should thank me for my kindness! See, in some tournaments, a draw goes to the hosting fighter. But I grow bored of this ring. Perhaps we can entertain the world with the inaugeral Cell Melee?" Cell giggled, looking right at Vegeta.
"Maybe you stand a snowball's chance in Hell if you attack me all... At... Once."
"Cell, you bastard!" Vegeta roared. The ground beneath him began to shake and glow yellow as Vegeta pushed his rage into the ascendancy of a Super Saiyan.


"This is Mr. Satan himself reporting to you LIVE for the incompacitated and fleeing TV guy. I'm also operating the camera here... Is my mic on? Can you hear me? This is the Heavyweight Champion of the WoooooOOOOOooOORRRLLLD!"
Oolong the Pig shook Chi-Chi from her sobbing.
"Come ON, Chi-Chi! That dumbass Satan finally got the plugs in the camera right! We gotta watch!" he tugged with his tiny hands on Chi-Chi's arm. "Maybe if we're lucky he'll know how to aim the thing and we'll see if Goku's okay!"

Chi-Chi abruptly ceased crying and suction-cupped her eyeballs to the television, mumbling about her "precious little sugar-boy."

"Yes we can hear you!" the TV anchor yelled from the news studio, huffing in excitement so much that his pink tie was undulating like a snake on his chest. "But, Mr. Satan sir, I'm watching your camera feed and I thought I saw the gold-haired warrior Goku re-engaging Cell there, but it was too out of focus. Now you have the camera pointed at the fighters on the hill... May I ask why?"
The Champ focused the camera view in on a big, burly fighter with tall, black hair and a light blue uniform.
"Hmmm, I don't recognize that guy..." Hercule mumbled to himself.
"Mr. Satan, world hero, sir, please tell us what is happening!"
"Huh? Oh, um," Mr. Satan adjusted the mic and earpiece headset that was way too small for his massive head. "Oh yeah! See, Papaya News Anchor Dude, I am sure Cell has an accomplice among these "special forces" punks. Some traitor to our world is planting bombs to assassinate and betray his team!"
The Camera panned past Trunks, past Gohan.
"Another crappy metal hair, punk kid?" Hercule laughed throatily. He focused the camera view and zoomed in, zoomed too far, then pulled back while panning right. Then the camera fell on Piccolo.

"Oh NO!" the news anchor gasped, then apoligized for his exclamation most professionally. "That's King Piccolo! He almost destroyed the World Martial Arts Tournament eighteen years ago! But I thought Goku defeated him! He must be the traitor!"
"Exactamundo," Mr. Satan cleared his throat, "Uh, I mean, exactly what I was thinking, Papaya News Anchor Dude!"
The camera bobbed and the focus changed repeatedly as Hercule cautiously approached the hill, still a couple football field's distance away. Then the camera view focused in on an ugly close-up of Piccolo's forehead.
"We have our traitor... And I'm about to bring him some whup-ass in a can!"