"And this oneee," the light prance of ballerina slippers thudded over the dark mulch to a brightly flowering shrub, "is my prize-winning rose bush!"
"Beautiful," politely murmured one of the three aliens grouped around the garden.
Mrs. Briefs beamed her delight. "Aren't you so sweet? Would anyone care for a glass of lemonade?"
"..."
"Mom, how many times do I have to tell you; they don't drink lemonade or anything else other than water," sighed her daughter.
"Oops, hahaha!" the older woman giggled, "I forgot!"
"Anyway, could we get back to my question about these designs for the space craft; I could really use some input from you, Moori-san."
"I'll be happy to assist in any way that I can," the Namekian elder graciously consented, following the blue-haired scientist toward the research building, he nodded once toward Mrs. Briefs and his other two companions as he departed.
"Buh-bye," chirped the lighthearted hostess, "see you at lunch, dear!" Then, taking each of the remaining two nameks gently by the arm, she lead them away further into the garden, babbling airily as they went.
No one noticed the shadowy figure looming under a nearby trellis, like a jagged piece of gardening equipment that someone forgot to put away. Vegeta watched the party pass him by through a thorny veil of clambering rose bushes. All the while, behind his impenetrable gaze, an unbidden memory slowly began to surface as they recently tended to do more and more often.
Within a flash he was back on Namek, surrounded by crumpled forms scattered over the blue grass soaked deep purple by namekian blood. His hand still tingled from the energy released only moments ago, unloaded like the wrath of a merciless divinity upon the village of obstinate slugs. Their feeble defense had amused him initially, and he'd freely allowed the insects to direct their collective ki blasts at him. However, once their token warrior decided to deliver some serious opposition and Vegeta was actually forced to put forth effort, he quickly grew tired of the game.
With one satisfying explosion, he wiped out the remaining villagers. Normally, he liked to draw out the killing when he was in a playful mood - using fleeing civilians for target practice was always an amusing way to hone his aim - but he was too anxious about attaining his dragon ball and immortality to bother with pointless games. And now he had it: clutching the large orange nest egg for a fleeting moment, he promptly deposited it into a watery vault before taking off.
But he hadn't gained immortality - only humiliation. He'd skulked around a kami-forsaken planet for a few days, filching magic orbs away from a despotic lizard like a mouse stealing morsels from a cat's mouth only to end up crushed in its jaws. In the end he'd been accidentally rescued by a group of creatures he wouldn't have deigned to spit on, and the third-rate, earth-raised Kakkarot had usurped him of his Legendary birthright. The memory slowly smoldered within him until he felt ready to rip all of West City and its inhabitants to pieces with his bare hands.
Vegeta wasn't sure exactly what checked him from doing just such a thing on more than one occasion since coming to live at Capsule Corporation. Certainly not fear of repercussion - the fool Kakkarot remained indefinitely somewhere in the reaches of space, meanwhile he was matchless on this planet. Were he so inclined he could rule it like the monarch he was, however, the idea of being the supreme overlord of such a sad mud ball was almost as insulting as the chagrin he suffered on Namek. The best answer he could come up with was simply that he had nowhere better to be and, for the moment, cared about nothing other than attaining super saiyan and then meeting Kakkarot once again.
At least being at the most technologically advanced facility on the planet afforded him the best training equipment he could hope for - and plenty of room and food also helped (The blue-haired woman hadn't been lying about that). He merely existed for the time being; he lived only to get stronger and reach his goal. Beyond that, he thought of nothing else.
Setting out for his regular training spot, Vegeta stood, brushed the grass off himself and took off for the large testing area on the outskirts of Capsule Corp's property. The signature of a high ki nearby alerted him to the presence of the weakling known as Yamcha; the earth warrior was occupying a space of land not far from where the Prince intended to train - far too close for Vegeta's tolerance. Without preamble, the saiyan overtly flared up his own ki. Once he was certain he had the other man's attention, he calmly landed nearby - an aura of energy billowing out around him.
The scarred human stood regarding him with reserved consternation and indignation. "What are you doing here - Vegeta," he spat the other man's name like a curse.
"I've already claimed this space," stated Vegeta with a smirk, "so you'd better go find somewhere else to practice your feeble forms."
"Hey," a snarl further disfigured his already marred face, "I was here first; besides, this whole area is huge! There's plenty of room for both of us - we wouldn't even have to see each other!"
Vegeta's smirk never wavered, a growing ball of energy slowly electrifying his upturned palm, "I need a great deal of room, so go train in the desert."
Yamcha appeared ready to put up a fight, but eyeing the deadly sphere Vegeta held he quickly thought better. He fixed the prince with a look of absolute animosity, "You know, I really don't know what the hell Bulma was thinking when she invited you to live here; you're a complete bastard and you always will be. There's nothing good about you!"
The saiyan's nasty smile only widened. He said nothing and only watched as the other man retreated into the air and took off. After looking on with satisfaction for a moment longer, Vegeta finally turned his attention back to his primary reason for coming to the grounds in the first place. He needed to train. So, drawing a deep breath he took his first stretch and the whole grueling process began.
Exertion on this planet was extremely frustrating to say the least; gravity was so low, he could perform the same exercises he normally would under much heavier pressure all day here and never even break a sweat. He'd become aware that the doctor had made a ship that endured up to 100x earth's gravity in which Kakkarot had trained on his way to Namek, however he'd never bothered to have the old man come up with something similar for him - at least not for the time being – partially because the idea of following after his low-class counterpart made Vegeta's stomach turn. Instead, he'd determined to use his own methods for as long as possible before stooping to solicit the lowly earth scientists.
If undaunted vision counted for anything (for there was no shade of doubt concerning his own ability within Vegeta) he was already well on his way. Without having witnessed it firsthand, he still had no difficulty picturing himself as the Super Saiyan - could taste it like a delicacy he knew by intuition. In his mind's eye he hovered over a battered and barely alive Kakkarot who looked satisfyingly similar to how he had at the end of their first fight. Vegeta, on the other hand, guffawed heartily from above this time, scarcely a scratch adorning his cruel, dusty face. Things were now as they should be in the universe - with himself once again at the apex of power; he was the strongest in the universe.
Now all that was left was to finish off the inferior upstart who'd dared to snatch his legacy from him (never mind that, out of desperation, he'd begged the other saiyan to become the Legendary after he'd failed to do so). Vegeta instantly and ruthlessly crushed the renegade thought that flitted unbidden into his brain as if it were Kakkarot himself. Regardless of the weakness he'd shown upon his demise by Freiza's hand, he would regain what he'd lost with interest. Never again would anyone hold dominion over him - he would regain his pride as prince and a warrior only after he killed that soft-headed reject to his race.
With gusto he discharged a volley of ki blasts onto the imagined Kakkarot, watching avidly as they tore holes through the other man until he was no more than a smoking crater scarring the earth. By now Vegeta had grown slightly out of breath, possibly from the adrenaline rush brought on by his pleasant little fantasy, nevertheless it meant he'd finally hit his stride and the workout had just begun.
Hours later, thoroughly and sufficiently weary from the relentless grind of his workout, Vegeta stomped his way into the Briefs' kitchen and gave his dinner order to one of the robot servants that milled around awaiting commands. He'd once done the same thing to the doctor's scurrilous daughter. Bulma Briefs, however, did not mill around awaiting commands - especially not his – as she'd so explicitly and profusely communicated to his highness.
Concerning the plucky heiress Vegeta vacillated somewhere between mild amusement and total disgust, generally leaning more toward the latter. The funny thing was (despite how often he accused her of being otherwise) she wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination - if her formidable technological prowess demonstrated anything. It would figure that her brains (and looks) would have to be counterbalanced by a complete lack of judgment.
His outright villainy should have been obvious to a lobotomized slug, yet she'd inexplicably invited him to live at her house just like he was another grinning buffoon interchangeable with Kakkarot. This more than anything affronted him almost to the point of vaporizing the entire compound and everyone in it just to prove a point.
Without waiting for his food, Vegeta strode away toward his own personal suite of rooms. The doctor's wife who'd spotted him from the hall called out her cheerful greeting which he didn't acknowledge. After slamming the door shut on the rest of the household, the prince went to his shower.
His arms down to his fingertips still tingled with energy and Vegeta savored the dull ache deep in his muscles. Each step past exhaustion brought him ever closer to his goal. He needed to drive himself even harder, however. He longed to get his hands on some of those senzu beans Kakkarot possessed - then he could push himself to his very limits, vastly increasing his current power level instantaneously. If only his primitive host planet had the technology to build rejuvenation tanks!
After his shower, Vegeta pulled on a pair of sweats and sat down on the edge of his bed to rest for a moment before heading back down to the kitchen. His mind continued to swim with the thoughts of super saiyan. He reached a hand toward the bright golden glow radiating from his destiny and allowed it to engulf him in prophetic warmth.
When he opened his eyes once again with a start it was to the obnoxious sound of incessant knocking coming from his door. Vegeta sat up with the realization that he'd been sleeping. He opened his mouth to snarl at the knocker to get lost before he took away any option with a blast from his palm, when the door suddenly sprang open and the Breifs' daughter popped her head in like a blue-haired jack-in-the-box.
"Vegeta; are you in here," she called to the obviously present saiyan. Her eyes darted briefly over his bare torso before quickly fixing back on his face.
The prince fixed her with the same look he usually spared for the people he was about send to another dimension, but he might as well have been glaring down a brick wall for all the reaction he got as Bulma frowned dauntlessly back.
"You didn't come down to get your food and now it's starting to get cold; I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten."
"Why would I forget my own dinner," Vegeta snapped, agitated at the foolish predicament he suddenly found himself in, "now get out of here you idiot."
Bulma recoiled at first, and then her upper lip curled into a slight snarl. "Excuse me, you royal ass, were you waiting for it to be carted up to your room? If so, then have a wonderful wait." With that, she turned on her heel. Stunned, Vegeta watched her dramatic exit with a mixture of indignation as well as something bordering on amusement.
All at once, before he even had the chance to decide on his response, she paused and spun back around to face him. "Oh, and another thing," her hands were now on her hips as she scowled over at the reclining killer like he was nothing more than a willful child for her to scold, "I heard about what you did to Yamcha earlier; you've got some nerve! You can't treat my boyfriend that way, Vegeta."
If he'd been nonplussed before he was now stunned past the point of response to the outrageous woman's reproach. He could only sit with his mouth ajar at her audacious and ludicrous defense of the human fighter. Bulma seemed to take his speechlessness as an expression of guilt or possibly intimidation as she crossed her arms satisfactorily and turned away.
"Just remember whose home you're staying at," she admonished as she made to close the door after herself.
Within a second, Vegeta stood behind her and very neatly placed a finger against the edge of the door, watching calmly as the human woman jerked to a halt in her progress. Bulma turned around, befuddled, only to jump at his sudden nearness. Vegeta stared eye to eye with the woman who blinked back in unmasked shock before quickly arranging her features back into an indignant expression.
"What-"she began.
Vegeta cut her off with a dark and humorless grin. "Perhaps it is you who should remember who you have invited to stay in your home, or have you forgotten already?" He shoved open the door and stepped toward the woman who began to back away from him. Vegeta put his finger to her forehead and effortlessly pushed her against the wall, holding her there. "I might remind you that with this finger, I could vaporize your entire compound, or snuff out your feeble life right in this hallway," he then leaned close to whisper in her ear, "you wouldn't even have time to scream."
With deep satisfaction, he watched her blue eyes widen with the terror he'd seen in countless victims' faces over the years. She would certainly remember the bloodthirsty sociopath she'd met on Namek now and show herself to be the sniveling little nitwit he knew her to be. From now on she would creep around him and he would no longer have to suffer her blithe drivel and attempts at friendliness – he could be left the hell alone in this damned household!
"You…you…" Vegeta could see her attempting to form words with her trembling lips.
"What's that," he taunted, "do you have something you'd like to say?"
The woman gulped and took a steadying breath, her gaze suddenly hardened, "You're nothing but a bully!"
Vegeta pulled back in surprise, his finger dropped from her head. "What did you say?"
"I said you're a bully, Vegeta! Would it really kill you to act like a decent person for once?"
All of the amusement had drained from the saiyan's face, replaced with a deepening flush of genuine anger, "I thought I made it clear: I am not one of you weak-minded fools – I don't need friends. All I need is a place to sleep and train, which you offered to me to begin with, so if you've changed your mind then I'll gladly find somewhere else where I won't have to put up with your constant bitching!"
"No," Bulma practically shouted, her own face reddening, "I invited you to stay with us and I meant it!"
"Then shut up and go away," he fired back, louder.
"Fine; no problem! I'll never speak to you again and you can just train until you keel over dead – you'll never be able to beat Son-kun anyway!"
"Oh, I'll beat him – I'll destroy him – and then I'll destroy everything and everyone he ever loved," he pressed his palms on either side of her, pinning her ominously between himself and the wall. Bulma merely glared back.
Without a word she ducked down; Vegeta watched her cerulean head dip below his solar plexus, then pause. For a brief moment he was acutely aware of her face hovering inches from the flimsy pair of sweats that alone remained between them. Within that instant of distraction, she slipped neatly under his arm and out of the trap he'd made without once touching him.
"Good luck with that," she called over her shoulder as she marched away and turned the corner.
Vegeta's lips pulled back in a snarl as he watched her go – 'That bitch!'
Incensed and no longer thinking about food, the alien prince stomped back to his room and slammed the door. He was keeping a tally and would make her pay for her insolence later. For now he had much more important things to focus on.
Flopping back down on the bed, he laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes – picturing, once again, the Legendary Super Saiyan lording over the rest of creation with no equal. One day he would know such power. Beings throughout the universe would pay him homage while his enemies were mercilessly crushed under his heel. On that day when he had finally achieved his dream, the first thing he would do would be…
But he was already beginning to drift back to sleep, and another day of training awaited him tomorrow.