Dinner with the Tyrant
Connie woke to the sudden sound of her alarm, a constant loud tone that wouldn't shut up until she flicked it off. She hated the alarm, but the lesser ones didn't rouse her from her exhausted sleep as fully. She yawned, and stretched, barely registering that she was on her couch, instead of in her bed, and instead, fumbled around for the lamp. It was the darkest time of night, before dawn, and the coldest. Connie shivered and set about quickly dressing herself in her long sleeved white shirt, her black sleevelss vest, her black pants and over the top with her black apron with her Cafe's motif on the chest. She brushed her hair, tied it back, and capped it with a berae and fastened her Managers' Name Badge on her left breast. She yawned again, still brain dead, the previous night, barely registering as nightmare. Connie grabbed the keys to her cafe and headed downstairs, still half-asleep.
She was slightly disgruntled to find the back door open, and it took a few minutes to remember that she hadn't shut the back door after she had grabbed the trolley out of the cafe. Then it came flooding back to her like a violent slap to the face. She froze, staring horrified at the roof above her, half expecting a monster to drop through the ceiling, snarling, blowing things up. She swallowed her fear and headed back up the stairs, suddenly conscious of the noise her pine stairs made as she walked up them. She snuck to her bedroom door, pushed it open as quietly as she could, felt the sudden hot blast of air from her little heater, and stared down at the body burried under a mound of clothes. He had a tinge of purplish color in his white face now, and he was sleeping peacefully, taking long deep breathes. Connie had to force herself to stop staring at him and close the door. She headed back down stairs and began the morning preperations, turning her coffee maching on, getting the hopper set up, rinsing the handles out and setting them up along the top of the machine ready for use. She unlocked the cash register and flicked all the lights on and set the dishwasher to start filling up with water.
It was several hours later, Connie, absorbed in what was laying on the floor of her bedroom occupying her mind, barely aware of the mechanical way she prepared the morning food, the coffee and all the serving eqiptment. She was just setting some muffins out on the tray on the bench when the front doors' bells rang, and Connie jumped, slipping on the floor, and falling sprawled on the floor. Her head chef, Simon ran around the corner, helping her to her feet.
"Jee-zus! I've never seen you jump so high Con!" He said in his strong American accent.
"Sorry." Connie mumbled, rubbing her now burning knees that were still raw from the previous night. Simon frowned down at her.
"Man Con, you look dead on your feet." Simon said, his voice full of concern. Connie stared up at him, before glancing at the coffee machines' silver sides that reflected a very tired looking young woman with bags under her puffy eyes and a palid face. She grunted.
"Sorry Simon. I'm all right. I'm just a little distracted." She said absently. Simon frowned.
"I know you've been working hard for this cafe' Con, but you can't work yourself into the ground. Why don't you have the day off. Jess will be here soon, and we'll be fine until the Mark and Sue rock up at Eight. Go back to bed." Connie gave an involuntary jump, which made Simon narrow his eyes. She couldn't hold his scrutinising stare, and nodded slowly.
"Alright. I'll go have a lie down. I'll come back down later, when I'm better rested." Connie forced herself to say. In the two years she had owned the cafe' she hadn't had a day off, except when she had a nasty cold and didn't want to risk contaminating any one esle. She felt unusual, torn between staying and helping out and going back to sleep, although she doubted she could sleep much now anyway. Simon walked her to the back door.
"We'll be fine Connie. Stop stressing out." And he pushed her out the door, closing it behind her. She sighed. She knew Simon would be fine. He had been her best employee since the day they had opened. Reluctantly, she headed back up the stairs. She closed the door behind her, took off her uniform, and put on a long sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of cargo pants and sat down on the sofa. She couldn't stop staring at her bedroom door and hated herself all the more for it.
It seemed to loom out at her, intimidating. Eventually, she found herself standing in front of it, her hand on the door handle. She took a deep breath, and let herself in. She closed the door behind her, the room was dark and warm. The curtains were drawn. She knelt down next to the Man's head, studying his face. He was still breathing slowly, steadily, unmoving otherwise. She reached out and touched his hair, a feather light touch. Cell had never had hair, instead he had worn what looked like a shelled head-crest. She was torn between her curiosity and her fear. This was the face she had been taught to hate and fear throughout her school life. There wasn't a person alive today who didn't know who Cell had been and what destruction he had been responsible for. Yet she was also sure that Cell couldn't be alive. Hercule Satan, still revered as one of Earth's greatest Heros whom had ever lived, had defeated Cell. Had wiped him from the face of the Earth. Hadn't he? There was really little proof, except that Cell had never been seen again after that day.
The room was so invitingly warm, and Connie couldn't stiffle her yawn. She felt her eyelids drooping again, but she refused to sleep in the same room as Cell, just in case, and she withdrew her hand and stood up and left the room again, closing the door behind her, heading back to her sofa. She was unaware that two brilliant pink eyes had watched her leave the room.
Connie woke up feeling considerably better. Her headache had gone and she felt fully rested. She closed her eyes again, letting her mind wander. Her mental notes came flooding back to her. She had work to do, she knew, but her bed was so comfortable and warm, and snuggly, and she didn't want to get out. Then her mind suddenly did a double take and her eyes flew open in a sort of panic. Sure enough she was in her bed with her doona over her, the curtains drawn over the balcony door and windows so she coulnd't gauge the time. She leaned over the bed, stared down at the floor. Her matress was back on the bed, that she was now sitting in.
"But!" She exclaimed to herself, staring around, before she slipped out of bed. Another jolt of realization as she spotted her bath gown hanging up on the door knob, looking rather crisp and white. She walked over to it, fearing to touch it, as if it was contaminated. Eventually she picked it up, running it through her fingers. It felt as it always had, soft and inviting. But it smelt like... She held it to her nose and took a deep breath. It smelt good. A faint smell she couldn't place. She swallowed, realizing what she was doing, and she put the robe on her bed, mentally berrating herself for her own foolishness. The man had probably gone by now...
She was still wearing her cargo pants and her long sleeved shirt, but she was afraid of what she would find when she walked out the door. She steeled herself, and headed into the lounge room. It looked like she had left it, but with one distinct difference, there was a man sitting on the sofa, staring at her, a remote in his hand, a slight smirk on his face, wearing her ex's clothes that she had unceremoniously boxed in the spare bedroom. She locked eyes with him, unable to form words in her mouth, unable to willingly break the silence as they stared at each other. Her eyes wide with the nervous shock of seeing him, the smirk on his face making him unmistakable and removing all doubt from her mind.
"Good Evening." He said. It was his voice from the broadcast they had played in school, deep and proper English sounding. His sudden adressal seemed to stir her from her inability to move.
"G...Good evening." She replied, hating herself for her weak sounding voice. She wished he'd stop staring at her. It was unnerving to say the least. The silence resumed for what felt like an eternity. Finally he moved, breaking his eyes from hers as he moved, slowly, and deliberately, using what looked like a lot of effort, to push himself to his feet. She realized suddenly, almost as a relief, that he was very weak from his ordeal. He moved slowly around the small coffee table in the middle of the room. He stopped in front of her, and she realized how very tall he was. A good foot at least, as she was forced to stare up at him.
"I owe you my thanks." he said. She felt her heart sink as she heard the cold iciness in his voice, saw the smugness in his eyes.
"I...I couldn't just let you drown." She said slowly. He laughed at this, suddenly and haughtily as if she had just told some legendary joke. She frowned at this, and when he finally stopped, he stared at her, a glint in his brilliant eyes.
"But you could have." He said it so simply, as if it was the ultimatium of the centuary. "No doubt any body else who had been in the same prediciment would have simply turned their backs." His statement seemed to confirm it beyond doubt, and she felt the dread tighten it's tendrils aorund her heart, but before she could stop herself, she blurted it out.
"So you really are him? Your..." She couldn't say his name. Too long fear of this man had been drilled into the people of the earth.
"Oh yes. I am Cell." He said simply, proudly, yet he looked away, back at the TV that was on, but the sound was off. Connie stared down at her feet, feeling small in the presence of the Tyrant. He moved away, back to the sofa, sat himself down slowly, seemed more at ease when he was resting. He was tall enough, that his wings hung over the back of the sofa, barely touching the carpet. Connie watched them, still in utter shock that she, Connie, was playing host to the most hated man in the world. If news got out... She shuddered at the thought at what people would do to him, do to her! She couldn't dwell on that though. She turned back to him, watched him as he unblinkingly stared at the news on the TV. He had a slight frown on his face.
"Erm... Now... Now what?" She asked. He turned those eyes on her, felt them pierce her.
"I'll assume you mean, now what am I going to do?" Cell asked. Connie gave a slight nod. Cell's face deepened into a frown of frustration.
"Unfortunately, my... ordeal has left me in a rather weakended condition. I'll need to regain my strength before I can go and say... conquer the world." Cell said a little too pointedly. He watched as Connies' face drained of color at his words, before he smirked again and chuckled. "You, will subsequently, be playing host to me, for a while." He turned back to the TV, as if to say the conversation was over. Connie felt her legs turning to jelly and made for one of her single seater sofa's opposite Cell's, and collapsed into it.
"Just like that? You're going to try to destroy the world again?" Connie knew her voice sounded desperate, but she didn't care. She stared, almost pleading at Cell. He turned back to her, smirking.
"Well, as I said, I'm weak at the moment. You could always kill me while I'm vulnerable and save the world." The impact of these words seemed to slap Connie hard.
"K... Kill you?!" Connie felt her voice crack under the pressure, felt suddenly faint and unsettled. She stared, horrified at Cell, but oddly, she couldn't shake this little voice in her head that kept telling her that there was a very sharp knife in the drawer in the kitchen. All she would have to do is walk over there, grab it and plunge it into his heart. It woulnd't be that hard. Surely...
Cell laughed. It was as if he could read her mind. He shook his head.
"You can't kill me." He said it, knowing full well, that it was true. She let out a slight whimper, her eyes instinctively turning to the phone on the wall in the kitchen. Cell's eyes followed, saw the phone, and he snickered.
"Go on. Call the police. I'm sure they'd believe you." He said tauntingly. Connie swallowed the lump in her throat, her mind already racing. She could tell the police that there was an intruder in her house, keeping her hostage... they would come, they would realize it was Cell in the flesh and then all hell would break loose. She stared back at Cell, his eyes, so full of icy brilliance, and she knew already that the plan would forever be fruitless. If she was going to call 911, she would have done so when he was unconscious on the floor of her bedroom. Besides, she didn't think she could handle the guilt if any of them got injured.
"I won't... But you already knew that." Cell snickered again, his eyes flashing in the lamp light.
"Indeed I do. So you won't kill me, you won't turn me over, what are you going to do?" He asked snidely. Connie sighed and hung her head.
"I don't know. You don't leave me much of an option do you?" She said quietly. Cell smirked and settled back against the sofa.
"You could ask me to leave. But then I'd simply infringe upon someone else. Besides, I'm your responsibility. You did save me after all." He was taunting her, jeering. She looked back up at him again, knew she was defeated. She couldn't give this enermous burden to someone else. She hoped somehow that she could come up with some miraculous plan before he regained his strength.
Connie felt drained again already. She felt sick, but she also felt hungry. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The cafe would be closed by now. She frowned.
"Alright, I guess you win. But there are a few rules I'd like you to obey while your here." She added, staring at Cell, sadly. It only seemed to make him smirk more.
"Fire away." He looked far too comfortable in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, that she assumed he had helped himself to. He looked, almost... normal. As if to ruin the affect, he shifted his wings that he had roughly torn holes for, to make himself more comfortable, bringing Connie back to the sad, awful reality.
"Well, for a starters, I run a business downstairs. I don't think you appearing would be very good for business, so I want you to stay up here, out of sight." Cell gave a curt nod.
"Thats' within reason. What kind of business, if I might ask?" He asked. Connie had the sudden distinct impression of a cat, the way he inclined his head to the side, the curious expression on his face.
"I run a cafe. It's my life, and although I can't stop you, I don't want you just to storm all over it." He smirked in response. "If your going to be living here as well, it would be good if you could help out around the house. Also, no wrecking anything, no blowing things up, and definately, no hurting anyone while you call this house home." She frowned, glaring at him, as to emphasize the point. "You may be a mass murdering, evil tyrant Cell, but you will be civil while you live in my house, or you can leave right now." Cell's eyes narrowed and he grinned. The look was frightening. Connie felt the confidence that she had somehow managed to muster in the last few minutes, burn to ashes.
"You do realize you can't actually enforce any of these rules." Cell's voice was like icy water over Connie's mind. She nodded tersely.
"I realize that but I have this distinct impression, that if nothing else, your a man of your word." Cell laughed.
"Well spotted. Well, your rules, you realize, mean that you are essentially forcing me upon your company for the next few days, being confined in this small apartment. I would request, therefore, that you provide me with entertainment, and information, lest I become destructive due to boredom." Connie felt her heart skip a beat.
"What..." She couldn't say it. Cell snickered evily.
"Information being unlimited access to you internet connection, magazines, newspapers and your Television set. Entertainment,... could be anything." He had a sort of knowing glint in his eye, as he watched her reaction. Connie sighed heavily and hid her head in her hands.
"I suppose that seems fair. Within reason." She mimicked him. As if to signal the conclusion of their agreement, Connie's stomach gave a particularily loud rumble, and Cell's eye brow arched.
"I do think some sustanance would be a welcome revere." He said simply. Connie nodded and shakily stood to her feet.
"I'm going to go downstairs, make sure the cafe is locked up. Then you can come down stairs and I'll make us some dinner." Cell nodded slowly, but said nothing as Connie headed out the door.
Several minutes later and she reapeared in the doorway. She looked worn, but she wore a forced smile.
"Come on. I'll show you my pride and joy."
Connie led Cell down the stairs into the back door of the cafe. He said nothing, simply took it all in, before heading through the kitchen into the cafe itself. Most of the decor was old wooden panneling, the cafe's interior a giant dome shape, with booths around the outside of the rounded walls, and tables with comfy looking chairs arranged in inviting angles, in the middle of the floor. A low chandeleir with electric bulbs cast a warm light, reflecting off the wood, making the light golden brown. Cell walked around the counter slowly, stopped and studied the utensils and the Racillio coffee machine intently.
"Interesting set up. But you pull it off nicely. The place is inviting."
"Thanks." Connie said with a slight hint of pride in her voice. Finally Cell turned his attention back to Connie, and motioned towards the kitchen.
"After you." He said. She nodded and led them back into the kitchen. There was two main areas, the preperation kitchen, where the food was cooked and stored, with a walk in freezer and a walk in fridge, stove, deep fryer, oven and microwave. The other section was the clean up, where a massive super sized dishwasher sat on the bench top, with a simple rail system, where you loaded one section up, then slipped it into the dishwasher, and it came out the other side sparkling.
Connie began to move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and set about working them. Cell watched intently, not saying anything. Forty minutes later, and Connie served them lasagne, with a side salad and two cups of coffee with some wholemeal sliced bread at a small table in the cafe. Cell sat down, his wings fanning out behind him before tucking themselves over the chair.
"I'm never going to get used to that." She said absently. Cell smirked.
"It's easy to forget that I'm not human." He said casually before spooning a large chunk of lasagne into his mouth. Connie couldn't help but notice, that for all his manners and properness, he was rather sloppy with his table manners, like he had never used a knife and fork before. She voiced her observation, only to receive a rather nasty glare from Cell whose mouth was currently full.
"I haven't used a knife and fork before." He said as he swallowed his food. "I've never had a need to." Connie frowned.
"How so?" He smirked.
"Because I've never needed to eat before." He paused, then added, "with the exception of when I was in my original form, and I preyed on human's for their bio-essence." Connie gave an involuntary shudder and pushed the remains of her dinner to the side. Cell snickered.
"Your a very... er... unusual being. Not having to eat, I mean." Connie said after a few minutes of awkward silence. Cell smirked, finished chewing his food.
"My body, when in top form, has a massive store of energy, of the likes you couldn't fathom. It generates enough energy to fuel my body without the requirement of outside assistance. I get that from the genetics of Piccolo." Connie felt suddenly small, and confused.
"Piccolo?" She asked.
"Yes. I am the result of a very complex design, that utilizes the best attributes from a host of alien species. For example, from Piccolo, the Namekian, I get my ability to regenerate, almost instantly, including the ability to regrow whole limbs, and heal otherwise fatal wounds. From him, I also get my ability to self-sustain my energy levels." Connie looked horrorfied.
"Ability to regenerate? You mean... Even if I had stabbed you, it would have been pointless?" Cell laughed haughtily again.
"Not completely pointless. It demonstrated your stability, in my presence, and your trustworthiness." Connied felt very foolish again, felt her face flush, as if it could ever have been so simple.
"...Oh." Was all she managed. Another stretch of silence, Connie, sipping her coffee. Finally Cell finished his food, and began instead, to eat Connies' left overs.
"You know, I don't even know your name. Although, I have a strong inclination that your first name is Connie." Cell pointed at the cafe's name isignia on the door, Connie's Cafe'. Connie smiled.
"Your mostly right. My name is Conchobarra Jewel O'Neall, although everyone calls me Connie." Cell locked eyes with her again, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Conchobarra. Irish, meaning strong willed." Connie smiled.
"You know your Irish folk lore." She said. Cell grinned.
"Theres much I know. It's programmed into my very being." Cell tapped his temple with his free hand. Connie frowned. Cell was incredibly arrogant...
"I still don't understand. What ARE you?" Cell chuckled.
"I am a bio-mechanical android. I was created, not born, by the good Doctor Gero. He made me using the DNA of an assortment of alien species. Ice-jins, who gave me the ability to survive anywhere, including the depth of space, Sayains, who gave me their remarkably hardy skins and their ability to get stronger, the closer to death they come, although they also gave me their remarkable pride and stubborness, the Namekians, who I've mentioned, make it very hard for me to die, Humans, of course, who give me their ability to adapt to most enviroments, and their resourcefullness, and a host of lesser important crittors. Before I was even born, Gero's computer downloaded all the information that I would need to survive in this world, including geography, history, the ability to speak almost any language, remarkable mathematics, politics, economics, science, etcetera." He finished rather suddenly.
Cell spooned another mouthful into his mouth, watching the awe-struck Connie as she simply stared at the man that was no man at all, but a sort of biological super-being.
"It was no wonder you were hard to kill last time around." Cell snickered, but Connie saw the flash in his eye, some hidden memory.
"Yes. Irritating that i would be defeated by my own ego." Cell muttered. Connie frowned.
"How?" Cell's face fell slightly.
"I forced Son Gohan into a corner, tortured his friends, toyed with him, to force his power out. If I had just killed him when he was on his knees, I would have conquered Earth over a centuary ago." Connie was confused further.
"Son Gohan? I thought that Hercule Satan defeated you. At least, that's what history says." Connie was taken back by the sudden outburst of ridiculing laughter that eminated from Cell.
"You mean to honestly tell me that after all this time, that weak pathetic excuse for a man has taken credit for all of Gohan's work?" Cell lost himself to laughter again. "Hercule Satan was so weak, he wasn't worth my time to kill him!" Connie stared at Cell, stunned to say the least, that history had been lied to so utterly by it's hero. Cell finally finished his food, skulled his coffee and yawned deeply.
"Well, I feel considerably more satisfied. Let's say we call it a night? After all, I imagine you'd have to work tommorrow morning." Connie gave him a wry smile.
"Yes. It's Saturday though so It's only a half a day opening times." Cell smirked.
"Fair enough. Although I still recommend we retire."
It was an hour later, after Connie had made sure the cafe was locked up, and ready, she had had a shower, and wished Cell a pleasant night, she had retired to her bedroom. She heard Cell settle on the couch, heard the low whispers of the TV, and gave herself a wry smile. If she had known a few days ago, that she would be sharing a house with Cell, the evil Tyrant, she would have laughed and said that it wasn't possible. Oh well, what did she know anway?
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