Human Hospitality
by pureleaf
Chapter 10
Mood Swings
Author's Note: Wowza, thanks to all the new followers! I love reading your comments and reviews.
When it came to the two hired chefs at the Capsule Corp's living quarters, Vegeta found he immediately hated the one called "Tyler", and when Vegeta discovered that his mere presence made the pudgy man develop a hunched posture, an uncontrollable stutter, and the inability to even make eye contact with the Saiyan during their brief interactions, he decided that it would make for good sport and routinely terrified the chef.
Vegeta had woken up in a bad mood after his awkward interaction with Bulma the night before, and his mood grew darker throughout the morning as he worked through what he personally considered to be poor training. Training at levels almost up to 100 times Earth's normal gravity wasn't enough to satisfy him, and failing to properly land a backflip twice in one hour while at ninety times Earth's normal gravity only made him angrier. The second fall was the hardest; he crashed to the floor lower back first and the stub of his tail throbbed angrily as he picked himself back up, seething in frustration.
Still, Vegeta broke from his schedule at eleven o'clock, went inside to take a shower, changed into fresh clothing, and went downstairs to toy with the chef and get his lunch.
"Hello, Tyler," Vegeta slinked into the kitchen and started rifling through the refrigerator for something to drink, barefoot and hair still damp enough that it was slightly relaxed and hung down his neck, "I'm really damn hungry and in a very shitty mood, so you better be fixing something good."
"Uuuuh, h-h-hello, S-s-s-s-" the chef caught a glimpse of the increasingly muscular man with the mercurial temper before he was too close for comfort, "Sir... today's lunch i-i-ss br-braisedrabbitwithpolenta a-a-a-nnnd spinach salad."
"Fine. I wish to eat outdoors. Take the food out there."
"Eh-heh heh, all right... t-t-take a seat, it'll be right out..."
The Saiyan went outside with two bottles of mineral water tucked under one arm and took a seat at a wrought iron patio table on the patio. At least the sun is warm today, seeing this planet isn't always hot enough for real comfort, thought Vegeta. When the food arrived two minutes later, served in the largest bowls the chef could find, Vegeta sniffed the braised rabbit before deciding that it looked decent. He picked up a leg of rabbit and began to eat, his back totally turned to the chef.
"D-d-do you like it, Ss-Sir?"
"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. Will you piss off already?" Vegeta dismissed the chef with the wave of a hand.
"Prick..." Tyler muttered to himself and he turned around to go inside when the Saiyan pushed himself out of his chair, stepped back two paces and performed another back flip, this one high and strong enough that he effortlessly cleared the chef's balding head and landed softly on his feet, less than thirty centimeters away from the horrified man.
"What did you call me? Come on," Vegeta picked the chubby cook up by the front of his white chef's jacket and pinned him against the doorway leading into the living room, "be a man and insult me to my face! What did you call me, fatass? Tell me again!"
"P-p-please! Stop!" The chef's pasty round face turned red and sweat beaded on his forehead. He could barely breathe as the powerful man started to hold him midair by his shirt collar, feet dangling two inches off the ground.
"Oh my god! Vegeta, stop! Let him go! Let go now!" Bulma raced across the yard, having spotted the argument from one of the smaller greenhouses. She bounded up the steps onto the patio and tried to separate the two men before the argument turned violent.
"This stuttering coward can't even talk shit to my face!" The Saiyan barely acknowledged Bulma and he pushed the man against the door frame with even greater force. "C'mon, you still want to talk?"
"Vegeta! Stop now!" Bulma grabbed Vegeta's left arm and tried to force it down. It was no use with the Saiyan's incredible strength, but after another five tense seconds, he lowered the chef to the ground and let go.
Tyler the chef looked at both of them in utter disbelief as he tried to catch his breath, heart pounding up into his throat. "T-t-that's it! This guy is a f-f-fucking psycho! I quit! I'd rather work as a line cook than deal with this crap!" He stormed into the kitchen, tearing off his chef's jacket to reveal a sweat-drenched t-shirt underneath, and started to pack his materials.
"Wait!" Bulma ran in after him, hoping there would be some way to make him reconsider his decision.
Outside, Vegeta had returned to his meal like nothing happened. He broke the tiny rabbit bones and sucked away at the miniscule amount of marrow before chucking them into the garden.
Tyler the chef could not be convinced to stay at Capsule Corp. He complained that Vegeta routinely insulted him (yet almost always commented that the food was "decent") and intimidated him. The violent incident had been enough for Tyler, and in the end he agreed to sign a non-disclosure agreement and would not press charges in exchange for a generous settlement and referral to a five star restaurant in West City.
Bulma was infuriated at Vegeta, but she also knew that confronting him would be a poor decision when he was already angry. Feeling rather helpless by the time Tyler had left, she poured a mug of coffee and went to the lab to take a few quiet moments for herself before Vegeta came by for the tutorial.
The Saiyan's mood had levelled somewhat as he took twenty minutes to lay on the grass after he'd eaten, basking under the high sun and finding some pleasure in how hot his hair felt.
He went to the lab and found Bulma had taken the drones out for a test flight. Four metal spheres whizzed over his head and began to circle him. Circular lights located in the center of each drone flashed green. Vegeta was impressed by their speed and the smirk appeared on his face when one sent a strong blast of cold air that hit his hand when he reached out to swat it.
"Glad you came by, Vegeta. The only way to shut off the drone is to tap the button in the center, and if you aren't fast enough..."
"What, I'll be blasted by air cannons? I'm shaking in my boots already."
Bulma mimicked Vegeta's smirk and folded her arms across her chest. "No, Vegeta. You'll be hit by a blast of energy. The drone is set on "safety" right now."
Vegeta's brows rose in surprise and he took a seat beside the young engineer. "Bulma, you have my full attention."
The drones proved easy to use, but difficult to shut off. Bulma led Vegeta through a tutorial and explained she'd programmed the drones to work at increasingly difficult (and painful) levels. Level zero would only produce blasts of cold air, levels one through three produced increasingly severe shocks, level four produced a laser that could potentially result in minor burns, and level five produced a full-on blast of energy that could leave exposed skin with second degree burns. With each level, the drones moved faster and more aggressively. She'd also programmed the drones so Vegeta could battle against one to six opponents at once.
"This is brilliant..." Vegeta managed to shut off one of the drones when he tapped the center button. Its tiny cannons retreated, the green light turned blue, and it flew back to its charging station at the end of the lab. "You're a goddamn genius, Bulma."
"Of course I'm a genius! It's about time you acknowledged that, too! You need to be very careful when using these, do you understand?"
"Yeah..." the Saiyan watched in amazement as the drone docked in its charging station and shut off. Looks like there are a few highly intelligent humans on this backwater planet, he thought.
"Vegeta, I'm not joking around here! You could be seriously injured if you try to take on more than you can handle. Just... look... start at level one or two, set the gravity simulator to an intensity you find comfortable, and see if you can shut off the drones in under a minute before you program the drones to blast you. Unlike you, those drones aren't going to slow down when the gravity increases."
"Do you really doubt me?" Vegeta looked at Bulma, eyes narrowing.
"Not at all. Please just be careful, alright? I don't want you to wind up in the hospital!"
"Oh, shut up..." Vegeta felt his face growing hot again, "I won't be hospitalized."
At five thirty, Vegeta left the simulator sporting more than a dozen dime-sized minor burns to his forearms, neck, and calves, and stomach. He'd had another fall, this time rolling his left ankle. He felt overheated, hungry, and his head hurt. He limped into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom, locked the door, and drew a cool bath. He'd have to take the rest of the day off and let his body recover, he realized, letting himself sink into the water until it had reached his chin.
He changed into clean track pants, undershirt, and fleece-lined hooded sweatshirt, but opted not to wear any shoes or socks. The floors at the Briefs Compound were always clean, Vegeta reasoned, so there was no way he'd further injure his feet or ankles.
Mrs. Briefs was the first to comment on Vegeta's state when he hobbled into the kitchen and dropped into his seat at the table.
"You're hurt! Oh, honey," she pulled out an extra chair and placed it two feet away to his left side, "did you twist your ankle? You ought to keep it elevated. Here," she assisted him in putting his leg up on the chair even though he didn't really need any help, "stay like that and I'll get an ice-pack for you."
"Hello, Vegeta. Intense day of training?" Dr. Briefs took his seat at the head of the table and acknowledged Vegeta's injury with a short nod.
"Intense day period."
"Ah, well, you should take a day off to rest that ankle, son."
"Nnh." Vegeta rolled his eyes and hissed in surprise as Mrs. Briefs laid an ice-pack wrapped in a clean tea towel over his ankle.
"So... I hear you and one of the chefs didn't get along very well today. Bulma told me he has chosen to accept a position at The Black Piano instead." Dr. Briefs looked at Vegeta with one brow slightly cocked, doubting Bulma had told him the truth behind Tyler the chef's departure.
"Good. I hated him. Where's dinner?"
"On its way, Vegeta. We're having Lebanese tonight. In the meantime, what can I get you to drink?" Mrs. Briefs moved back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, setting out glasses and utensils.
The Saiyan shrugged. He didn't care as long as his hunger would be sated and his thirst quenched.
"Where's Bulma?" Vegeta finally asked once the food had arrived. He was pleased to see Mrs. Briefs had ordered extra pita and toum for him to enjoy.
"She went out," explained Mrs. Briefs, "said she wanted an evening to herself."
Vegeta smirked. "I used to take evenings to myself when I was younger, whenever I was on leave... not that I remember most of them."
"Oh, dear," muttered Mrs. Briefs.
"Hah! So the "college years" really are universal! Good for you, son! And here I was starting to think you were completely incapable of letting loose and having fun!"
"You have no idea..." Vegeta retorted through a mouthful of shish taouk.
Unable to train after dinner, Vegeta took to the living room couch (nobody complained when he lay across it, in fact, Mrs. Briefs made him lift his left foot so she could prop it up with two small cushions) and found himself slipping into a frantic internal dialogue. How long would this injury sideline him? How much longer until the Namekians used their Dragonballs and Kakkarot returned? He completely ignored Doctor and Mrs. Briefs, so deep in his thoughts that he only heard Mrs. Briefs asking if he was alright when she gently tapped his shoulder.
"Yes! I'm fine!"
"Say... what kind of music do you like, Vegeta?" Dr. Briefs moved to his stereo system and began to search through his collection of vinyl records.
Vegeta pulled himself up into a seated position. "What? I don't know. Never considered it before."
"Never considered music, eh... alright. Then we should start with The Beatles!"
"Why not Beethoven?" Suggested Mrs. Briefs.
"Good suggestion... I suppose we can start playing music every night! Wouldn't that be a great way to expose our guest to more culture? What do you say, Vegeta?"
Vegeta rose from the couch, hurriedly limped into the kitchen, pulled a six pack of beer from the refrigerator, limped back through the living room and out onto the patio. Mrs. Briefs followed behind him, urging him to sit down and keep his ankle elevated.
"Screw off. I'm taking an evening to myself! Nobody is to follow me unless they're craving a fight." Vegeta looked back at his hosts for only a split second with his eyes narrowed to slits, before he flew off into the darkening skies, heading towards the ocean.
To Be Continued