Chapter 4

At the Pentagon, the atmosphere was charged with urgency. Every staff member was deeply engrossed in their tasks—phones pressed to ears, fingers flying across keyboards, and the office buzzing with fervent chatter. In the midst of this hive of activity, one voice cut through the din, authoritative and commanding. It belonged to Cecil Stedman, the Director of the Global Defense Agency.

"Make sure every surveillance is online, and keep your eyes peeled," Cecil ordered. "Donald, get to the surveillance quarters and stay vigilant. I need to know the origin of that portal, and most importantly, who the hell is this mysterious stranger."

Donald Ferguson, Cecil's right-hand man, responded promptly, "Sir, the latest reports just came in—they're advancing toward our position."

The news sharpened Cecil's focus, and he shot Donald a piercing look. "Good. Make sure they don't deviate from their path, and get Mark a new earpiece, for God's sake. I need to speak with him directly—or better yet, bring him to me," Cecil barked, rifling through the files Donald had handed over.

"Donald…" Cecil called out after a moment.

"Sir!" Donald snapped to attention.

Cecil's voice carried a trace of frustration. "I asked for a complete dossier on the stranger."

"Yes, sir. That's all the information we currently have," Donald replied.

Cecil glanced up from the paperwork with a skeptical expression. "Which is his estimated height and attire?" He let out a weary sigh.

Donald swallowed hard, then ventured, "Sir, it's possible we're dealing with another alien threat. We have zero background on this individual. My concern is that he might be another Viltrumite, given his ability to fly. Our scans indicate his bone and muscle density are greater than both Mark's and Anissa's."

A sarcastic chuckle escaped Cecil. "Fantastic. First, Mark gets pummeled by a Viltrumite, then his home gets leveled by that lunatic, Levy. And now here he is, possibly consorting with yet another super-powered being? Just when I think things can't get any worse."

"Keep me in the loop, Donald. Let's extend our 'visitor' a warm Pentagon welcome—fingers crossed he's not here to wreak havoc," Cecil said, his eyes lifting to the bank of monitors that displayed images of Mark and an unidentified figure, presumably Goku, soaring through the sky in the direction of the Pentagon.

With a hint of nostalgia tinged with the weight of his current reality, Cecil mused, "I miss the days when the biggest threats were Kaiju, not a planet busting superhumans."

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Mark and Goku were soaring through the skies, their flight punctuated by conversation.

"It's been almost a week, or maybe longer—I'm not sure. But I need to check in with my mom after this," Mark said, casting a glance at Goku, who nodded in understanding, acknowledging his friend's need to touch base with family.

Goku wasn't eager to jump into a confrontation with the so-called 'Viltrumites.' He could sense the weight of stress on Mark's shoulders, stress born from revelations and traumatic experiences too heavy to bear alone.

"There's this guy, kind of the head honcho of the world's defense system. His name's Cecil. I'm pretty sure he already knows you're here, and he's definitely going to want to chat with you," Mark explained, as Goku considered his next steps.

In Goku's own universe, where he often stood as an unofficial guardian, the concept of a 'director of guardians' was foreign, yet he understood that in this new world, his presence would draw attention.

"Alright, point me in the direction of this Cecil guy, and I'll handle it," Goku responded with a resolve that came from years of mediating conflicts and facing opponents.

"Let me at least take you there, just be cautious with him Goku. Cecil is persistent, takes his job very seriously, and he's persuasive man. He might try to recruit you to work for him tho," Mark warned, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and caution for the man who defended their world.

Goku absorbed Mark's advice. If defending this world was the goal, he preferred to do it through official channels, working alongside this Cecil—if he was as competent and dedicated as Mark suggested, what harm could there be?

Before long, they approached a building with the distinct five-sided shape of the Pentagon, the headquarters of the United States Department of Defense. An oval-shaped drone approached them, and a voice emanated from the speaker embedded within.

"Kid, you're always full of surprises. Meet me on the third floor; Donald will greet you at the main entrance," the voice said, its tone familiar to Mark. As the drone drifted away from them Mark glanced to Goku who was looking at the drone with raised eyebrows.

"That's Cecil," Mark said to Goku, pointing to the Pentagon. He then guided Goku toward the main entrance, ready to introduce his otherworldly ally to the head of Earth's defense.

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Donald weaved through the bustling crowd, pressing towards the main gate of the Pentagon with a sense of urgency that mirrored the turmoil in his mind. He was there to greet a new arrival, someone from beyond their borders, and the weight of suspicion bore heavily on him. Memories of Nolan Greyson's two-decade deception haunted his thoughts, clouding his judgment.

As he reached the gate, Donald raised his hand to his ear, tapping the concealed radio to issue a command to his units.

"Secure the entrances, initiate evacuation. Code Peregrinus," he spoke crisply into the device.

Code Peregrinus was the Pentagon's unique alert for a potential extraterrestrial encounter—indicating that while the visitor might be amicable, caution was paramount, echoing the uncertainties of first contact.

Around him, the Pentagon staff, attuned to the multitude of protocols, discreetly listened to their earpieces and commenced an orderly withdrawal. They were trained for such moments, and despite the disruption, there was a palpable sense of relief among them as they anticipated an unscheduled break—perhaps to grab a coffee or enjoy a moment of reprieve with a cigarette.

Donald straightened his tie and adjusted his suit to better conceal the handgun holstered within. He composed himself just in time to see two figures approaching the entrance.

One was Mark, instantly recognizable in his casual attire, accompanied by a stranger in an unusual yellow outfit, reminiscent of a Japanese karate gi or keikogi, complete with blue boots marked by a distinctive yellow stripe.

"Mark, it's good to see you. And you must be Goku. Welcome to Pentagon," said Donald, offering his hand first to Mark and then to the newcomer.

Goku, puzzled by Donald's familiarity, turned to Mark for clarification. Mark subtly gestured toward the sky, mouthing the word "drones," indicating their earlier conversation had been overheard.

Goku, still adjusting to the pervasive surveillance of this world, managed a cordial smile. "Hi, my pleasure, Mr. Donald," he replied, his handshake surprisingly firm.

Mark, eager to discuss more pressing matters, began, "Listen, I gotta go, Donald, my mom—"

"Your mom's okay, Mark. She's recovering in the emergency ward. Cecil will brief you about it. And Oliver's at a temporary refuge center for meta minors. But first we need you with us before you go, he's on the third floor, waiting for us," Donald interjected, providing a rapid update.

Relief washed over Mark, visibly easing the tension in his posture. He nodded for Donald to lead the way.

"Our crisis team is on it. Your house should be fully repaired in about five days," Donald informed him as they walked.

Goku was silently taking in the sights—the flurry of activity, the officials in suits, and the security personnel clad in armor, weapons at the ready. He had visited many places in his time, but never had he encountered such a display of readiness and might within a government stronghold. He wondered if the Earth of his own dimension bore any resemblance to this.

They arrived at an elevator, where Donald swiftly keyed in a sequence, revealing a secondary panel with only a few options. Pressing '3-F,' they descended rapidly, a sensation Goku noted, though his companions seemed unfazed.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal an elderly man with scars etched across his cheek. "Thank you, Donald, Mark," Cecil greeted them, turning his attention to Goku. "And you must be Goku."

"Yes, I am Goku, and you must be Cecil. It's a pleasure to meet you," Goku replied, adopting a formal tone in contrast to his usual carefree demeanor, while he felt natural to speak normally as he did with anyone, he allowed the serene composure and polished articulation of an angel to envelop his mind once again.

"The pleasure is all mine," Cecil responded, though his expression soon turned serious. "We have a lot to discuss."

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The discussion had stretched on for several hours. Mark had taken the time to provide a detailed briefing of the extraordinary events that had unfolded in his life after Annisa's departure. He spoke of his involuntary teleportation across various dimensions and the harrowing experience of being coerced into taking the life of Angstrom. The weight of sadness and guilt was unmistakably present in the timbre of Mark's voice as he recounted these moments. The topic of conversation shifted seamlessly following the mention of Goku's timely arrival shortly after the demise of Angstrom Levy. Curiosity was piqued about this new individual who not only possessed the ability to fly but, according to the bio scanner's sophisticated calculations, was significantly stronger than Mark himself.

"I am a member of an ancient and now extinct warrior race known as the Saiyans," Goku began, his gaze momentarily drifting towards the array of monitors showcasing the azure sphere of planet Earth in orbit. "Our home planet was obliterated by a ruthless tyrant named Frieza, who had also subjected us to his oppressive reign. We served as his enforcers, charged with the conquest of worlds and the eradication of any threats to his dominion, particularly those opposing the Planet Trade Organization — the formal name for Frieza's empire. Despite our utility in his campaign to subjugate planets, Frieza, driven by paranoia of a prophesied legend known as the Super Saiyan, chose to exterminate our race."

"How did you manage to escape?" Cecil inquired with a mixture of intrigue and concern.

Goku's expression softened as he delved into the past. "In the eleventh hour before our planet's destruction, my parents, Bardock and Gine, sent me to Earth. I was born weak, so they believed Earth to be a suitable refuge where I could live among beings of comparable power."

Mark, unable to contain his enthusiasm, interjected with a theory. "Hold on, let me guess! You were sent by your parents to an Earth in your dimension just before your planet destroyed. And you were raised with no knowledge of your origins and become hero of your world to fight crime and villains?"

A knowing smile crept onto Goku's face as he nodded in affirmation. His life's saga was long and filled with numerous exploits, and he acknowledged the vital support he had received along the way.

"Wait! You're like a real-life Superguy," Mark exclaimed with wide-eyed wonder. "It's straight out of a comic book. You know, like that other character who was sent to Earth as an infant and raised there after his own planet was destroyed?"

The room fell into a brief silence as the others cast puzzled looks toward Mark, uncertain of the relevance of his comparison to a fictional character bearing a striking resemblance to Goku's story.

"Ahem, Mark," Cecil interjected, bringing the focus back to the pressing matters at hand.

"Oh, right, sorry about that," Mark apologized, his cheeks coloring slightly. "So, you became your world's hero."

Goku gave a humble nod. "I wasn't alone, though. Some time after the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament, I encountered another Saiyan named Raditz, who revealed himself to be my brother. His power dwarfed ours, but with the help of my friends, we were able to overcome him."

With each word, Goku cautiously navigated through his history, dismissing the more fantastical elements such as the existence of the Dragon Balls and the intricacies of the afterlife. He made no mention of his current status as the Angel, the attendant to the God of Destruction of Universe 7. Instead, he painted his experiences as believable and possible to his captivated audience.

Mark was thoroughly impressed, his imagination alight with images of Goku's life that mirrored the superheroes of his beloved comic books or the animated heroes from the popular '90s series "Dragon Stones who also had a character named Luke Skywalker, a monk's adventure with his friends to achieve the wishing stone of the Dragon.

Cecil, on the other hand, was naturally more analytical, though he was not without faith. His own experiences with ancient deities and cataclysmic spirits had taught him to keep an open mind. If even a fraction of Goku's narrative was accurate, Cecil was convinced that this man had the potential to resolve their current crisis with minimal effort. Yet, as the room's energy settled into a contemplative calm, Cecil felt compelled to seek confirmation.

"So..." Cecil began, casting a measured gaze at the figure who had been regaling them with tales of intergalactic heroism, "are you here to offer us your assistance?"

Without resorting to words, Goku rose calmly from his seat. With a measured exhale, he allowed a knowing smirk to cross his features. To all but Mark, who possessed the inherent Viltrumite ability to perceive subtleties beyond the ordinary, the brief flash of a silver gleam and the dangerous aura that Goku momentarily exuded went unnoticed. Recognizing the silent confirmation, Mark watched as Goku gave a decisive nod, signaling his readiness to help.

And Cecil smiled gently before saying

"Welcome to our world, Son Goku."