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Six Months Later

Any light that the full moon may have shone upon the earth was blocked behind a thick layer of dark clouds and rising fog. The streets and slums of West City were bleak and quiet, shrouded in silence, forcing whoever decided to wander the pavements to quicken their pace and return to the comfort of their homes given the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night.

Vegeta was quite content as he wandered down the desolate road.

Clad in his blue training coverall and a human garment the woman insisted he wear given the slowly harshening conditions of weather, Vegeta walked a slow, meagre pace. His footsteps tracking in the thin layer of snow that lay upon the pavement. This Earth continued to prove to be a curious world; very rarely did Vegeta encounter a planet that shifted seasons as frequently and as routinely as this little blue and green planet he found himself upon did.

Not that Vegeta cared at all, it was just one of his many observations of his time spent here. He'd spent much of his life traversing the stars and conquering planets in Frieza's name, barely choosing to spend more than a month on any given world at a time.

Then he came to Earth, and for some reason he was still here.

The woman had welcomed him, as did Kakarot when he eventually returned from the desolation of Planet Namek, then with the threat of the androids and the raging thrill to partake in the looming battle, Vegeta found himself remaining on this world, if only to destroy those pathetic androids, attain the legendary form of Super Saiyan and defeat Kakarot once and for all as he had vowed to do so seemingly so long ago.

Except now Kakarot was dead and the androids and Cell had been dealt with by his child. Yet despite this, Vegeta had yet to leave the Earth, had yet to resume his conquest for the galaxy as he had aspired to do since he was a boy.

He didn't know for certain why he was still here, just that he was. Vegeta had his suspicions but he refused to considered them for more than a moment as they aggravated him to no end, yet the thoughts continued to plague him however hard he tried to expel them from his mind.

That damn woman and her damn baby. His damn baby.

How could he have lowered himself to such levels as to breed with a lower lifeform such as these humans?

Why didn't he just destroy this world years ago when he had the chance?

Because of that bastard Kakarot!

"Idiot," Vegeta cursed under his breath.

The infuriating clown of a Saiyan had achieved the legacy destined for Vegeta alone. He had bested him in combat and had continued to outpace Vegeta every step of the way since. He had even died an honourable death, a warriors death, but not by Vegeta's hands.

And then his half-breed whelp of a son had surpassed him too, by such a significant margin it made all of Vegeta's trials and efforts seen pathetic by comparison.

What kind of warrior was bested by a lower-class fighter and a pacifistic brat?

A warrior that Vegeta was no longer.

In the six months since the Cell Games, Vegeta had never trained with the fierceness and intensity the others had renowned him for.

His passion for fighting was apparently gone.

All thanks to that blasted Kakarot!

Vegeta spat at the earth as he rounded another corner, taking in the sights of the shimmering glass buildings and the glowing lights within. With the knowledge that he would apparently be staying on this planet indefinitely, if reluctantly, Vegeta had decided to gather his bearings. In the past four years he'd been staying here very rarely did he venture out beyond the walls of his gravity chamber to the world outside, but given the fact his new disposition left him with a lot of free time Vegeta routinely found himself walking throughout the streets of the cities, if only to avoid the woman's nagging and Trunks' excessive crying.

Damn infant, his behaviour is unbecoming of a Saiyan.

And soon he would have to put up with Kakarot's soon to be born second brat as well.

Vegeta almost swore he could hear the idiot laughing at him from above.

This was what his mighty warrior race had been reduced to, half-breeds and embarrassments.

Yet their abilities were unparalleled. Gohan and his future son were evidence enough.

It sickened Vegeta to no end.

How? How could he have been outpaced so much? Why was the boy the prodigy of a fighter he was? His performance during the Cell Games was remarkable, even by Vegeta's standards. It was simply obscene that he could be so strong yet so young.

He had even saved Vegeta's life.

And Vegeta had apologised to him. He had apologised to that brat, that stupid little kid.

That stupid kid had gone so far.

Vegeta did not look back on that memory fondly. The sheer… feelings he had when Trunks had been struck down was blinding to the point he abandoned all rational and attacked that android freak head on. Yet as quickly as the rush had come it was gone, and Vegeta had been thrown aside like a piece of garbage.

He got that bastard back in the end, the look upon Cell's face when Vegeta's Big Bang attack had made contact was enough to make him grin.

It almost made knowing that the boys power far outstripped his own bearable, if only to know it was the ultimate cause of Cell's downfall.

Almost.

And that was the way it seemed destined to be; Vegeta, outdone by a child and never again able to prove his superiority against the Saiyan reject he so despised.

What left was there to do now except wander and wait?

Slowing his already slow pace, Vegeta came to a halt by an old-fashioned tavern of some sort. He had evidently stumbled into the outskirts of the city, the layers of lights shining behind him, glowing in the fog. He recognised this place as one he frequented often to the point the bartender had begun to recognise him, that, and the hefty bill Vegeta racked up and paid for with the woman's money was enough to leave the man seemingly heart-eyed at Vegeta's very presence.

The Prince thought of this place fondly; it reminded him of the days where he was out of Frieza's gaze, wandering the galaxy to purge and pillage at his heart's content. Continuing his work here on Earth did not hold the appeal it once did. Also, he was assured that the woman and the pitiful fighters of this planet would not appreciate it.

Vegeta would never admit to himself that he was almost starting to feel protective of this place.

His head veered forwards as he stomped through the door, the bartender's face appearing to light up brighter than the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

Hours passed, the time ticking away as swiftly as the months that preceded. Vegeta's Saiyan appetite guaranteed that he never went overboard with the beverages he consumed, but the woman's money ensured that he nevertheless had plenty in supply.

The night went on, the noise grew louder and the humans grew drunker; still celebrating their salvation from Cell at that hands of their world champion. They felt empowered, at one point choosing to chant Mr. Satan's name in a tipsy daze.

One individual did not take kindly to the fact that a flame haired man sat at the bar ignored the praise for their hero.

The human laid his hand upon Vegeta's shoulder, his burly friends flanking him. His grip yielded no results as Vegeta continued to sit, a glass in his hand and a scowl upon his face. The bottle he held was half-empty and he looked at it as if in contemplation as to what he wanted to do with it.

Apparently making a decision, Vegeta brought the bottle to his lips, downing the rest of the liquid. He held the bottle in one hand while proceeding to grip the man's in the other and smirked wide with a vicious snarl.

"You just made the worst mistake of your life, moron," Vegeta sneered as he shattered the glass against the man's head.