Masquerade (Gohan/Reader)

Observations

A/N: This story is also on Quotev and Lunaescence. Miiight post it on Deviantart, depends on how I'm feeling.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters. If I did, I'd be rich.

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"______!"

You groaned and rolled on your side, pulling the pillow over your head. Another sleepless night of taking out the trash. It was worth the sacrifice.

"______, I'm not going to say it again! Get up, or I'll toss your breakfast out!"

"Fine, fine, I'm coming..."

You swung your legs over the bed and hopped down. Though you were definitely not a morning bird, as long as you got out of bed you would be fine. Trudging your way downstairs, you groggily yawned and rubbed one eye with your bruised knuckles.

Gonna have to hide that from Mom...

Three years ago, you and your mother had moved to Satan City, only to witness corruption, deceit, and unlawfulness that matched perfectly with its name. The police were just as bad; they stood around and did nothing. Unable to believe such crime went unpunished, you looked more into it, revealing that there had been multiple kidnappings with no effort put into the cases. 

This was your limit.

So, you took matters into your own hands, and began training yourself in martial arts. Yes, it seemed quite farfetched that you would be able to do so, but you knew that it would just require you to work five times harder than those who afforded professional lessons. 

Your reason for this decision? Two facts played into this. One, you didn't want to bother your mother. She was stressed enough about money as is, and you didn't want to ask for something you would surely quit once you got the hang of it. Second, if anyone tried finding out your identity and traced what information they had on you back to some dojo, then they would no doubt discover who you were. You couldn't risk that. So you relied mainly on watching movies, going to the gym, and working every day.

If someone had told you that ______, the class nerd, would be going to the gym, you would've laughed in their face.

During this time of intense training, you sewed your own costume and even practiced changing your voice. Not so much that it would damage your vocal chords, but enough that it would be nearly impossible to recognize your actual voice. 

Finally, you were ready to go.

Donning your attire and new name, you had watched the streets like a hawk, ready to swoop down on anyone committing crimes. 

It wasn't long until you saw a masked man, leaving a store with a conspicuous bulging bag. You immediately confronted him, warning him to drop the bag and leave the area.

Of course, if that worked on any person, then there would be no crime. But at least you could say "I warned you".

So, he had foolishly swiped at you with his knife, which you easily kicked out of his hand, thanks to his improper grip. Before he could flee the scene, you had punched him square in the jaw and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Spread the word: Phoenix is going to clean up the streets."

And that was how you had started it all.

Three years later, you had much more at your disposal. You were well-trained, much smarter, and even owned a small set of gadgets to help aid your endeavors. You were very proud of your progress. The city buzzed with excitement at the name Phoenix.