For Father's Day, I decided that I'd look into the life of one father who is not often thought of and bring him back several years before the beginning of even Dragon Ball (however, I feel as though he was given a bit more limelight in DBZ, and so I am placing it in that section). I have some other projects I need to work on, but considering how short this one was and rather lacking, do you all think I should continue? In all honesty, I'm okay with leaving it as just a one-shot, though I would like your opinions. Enjoy!
Prologue ?
As with all thirty-one-year-old CEO's of successful companies, Dr. ─── Briefs possessed an office in the midst of his corporate world. But instead of using this workplace as its name suggests, he would slouch back comfortably in his swivel chair and meditate on new ideas with a freshly-lit cigarette stuck firmly between his protruding lower lip and his thinner upper lip. His profile, one with his jaw firmly set and his nostrils flared with concentration, gave the impression that this was a very serious, young man, though in all actuality, he was simply intent on his work.
His founding of the Capsule Corporation had thrust upon too many responsibilities for a man of his psyche to uphold, as he was not one for the more technical aspects of business. Instead, he found greater pleasure submerging himself in the creativity of children and the play of a young man given a room full of tools to use at his digression. And so, though he possessed this office with documents framed on either wall and a large wooden desk before him, he trusted his financial matters in the hands of those hired.
This room was a small room for a man of his social stature, and yet he preferred it that way. When the architect had been designing this hemispherical, yellow building, the inventor had insisted he have a cozy nook off to the corner (though it's rather difficult to find a corner in a circular building) so that he may avoid distractions from his day-to-day life. This office was used so rarely that there were often cobwebs underneath the antique, wooden monstrosity that was supposed to house his paperwork and pens, and when he felt driven, he might use his energy to kick them away with his heavy shoe. Needless to say, however, the cobwebs were most often left there to accumulate.
There were few things that eased Dr. Briefs' constant boredom when out of the testing laboratory, though he found a good smoke allowed him to feel as whole as he would have been sitting on a work bench with a wrench in hand. The only obstacle he faced with this, though, was that this had been designed specifically as a non-smoking building. And that, Dr. Briefs thought, was perhaps the stupidest implement of this building's design.
With this stipulation, Dr. Briefs was forced to hide his habit. There was the possibility of him going outdoors, though the exterior door closest to his laboratory was quite a walk, whereas his office was only a few paces down the corridor. This lack of an escape exit was a fire hazard if he had ever heard of one, and especially since the laboratory had the largest potential to create a fire. But, no - the managers and contractors and whatever other nincompoops imagined up this kind of buffoonery decided that cigarettes were more a threat than chemicals and weaponry.
And so, with trying to avoid the shunners' eyes, he was forced to find a secluded place. In a building this busy, with construction still taking place in the other half of the building, nearly every existing room was excluded save for his bedroom and bathroom. But it wouldn't be wise to smoke in those rooms, as the maids who cleaned in the mornings would certainly smell it in his bed covers. No, he had to smoke in the one place that nobody cleaned and nobody suspected to find him, and that was in his office.
He managed to content himself with this game, and he never gave so much as a thought as to whether or not his smoking habit was filling a void in his chest. He lived with a slight thrill of the chance of his being discovered, an event that may consequently lead to his seeking a new hiding place. Then he could continue with this cycle of hiding from prying eyes and being found out. The scientist let out a snort from his nose and, even with his eyelids low over his eyes, his face couldn't help but betray these childish thoughts with the smile that salvaged itself from his satisfied pout.
Finally, to his greatest joy and disappointment, the game was over. After several months had gone by, a time in which the iconic building in West City had begun finishing its construction, he had been found out by his secretary, who finally had solved the mystery of the Great Disappearing ─── Briefs.
For that, he was ever thankful.