special thanks to my betas meganechan and over8000!
For three consecutive days she ambushes me on my way to bed, and for three consecutive days I try out her massage. I'll admit it feels good. Not just during, but after as well. As for any advantages in training, I'm less convinced. The following morning it is harder to pull myself out of bed, harder still to drag myself to the GR and bury myself in the intense gravity. When I take a break for meals I always catch myself procrastinating after taking my fill, like something buried deep within me thinks doing nothing is the best thing ever.
It could just be that nagging voice in the back of my head counting down the days. Telling me I'm running out of time, and if I have failed to achieve Super Saiyan when I've trained for over a year while Kakarot did it in little over a week... I never will. Yet thinking that way is counterproductive. So, I'm going to blame the woman and her crazy methods instead.
Sadly, my giving in has not dampened her enthusiasm at all, and when I tell her 'no' on the fourth night, she argues at my door until early morning. I'm not sure what she's trying to achieve; if I didn't know any better I'd think she's the one fighting for her birthright here. Her tenacity is annoying, stupid, and completely impervious to reason. It makes me sick with anger.
No; I've humored her long enough, and I'm definitely done being pushed around. Though in all honesty, I'm lost on how to fight something that I cannot... fight? I'm well aware that one good shove would kill her, and where would that leave me? On a spaceship with my tail between my legs, back to that familiar vacuum. And yet, not so long ago I would have counted any outcome with me alive at the end of the day a victory. It is strange but right now, I'm not sure I could stomach it.
In a last effort at decency, I return to my room in the cover of early morning light for my blanket and mattress and resolve to sleep in the GR instead. It gets a little chilly in the morning hours, but now I only need to leave for food and a shower. As for cleansing facilities, there are several scattered across the compound, and I can easily chose a different one if I sense her lurking about. I've taken to eating my meals with the family because, foodtime is sacred even with you humans, and so as a rule the bitch only starts nagging at me when she has cleared her plate.
It should not come as a surprise that the woman thinks up a different sort of trap the next week. I suspected something was up when those silly little trees started popping up all around the house. It seems as if every room is required to have one. Next, the contraptions were decorated with all sorts of junk and flashing lights. When I asked why, I was told that everyone does it, and it's a tradition. You people must really hate pine trees to cut off their roots and dress them up as they slowly wither and die.
I can smell the trap the moment I walk into the kitchen; there are too many places set at the table, and the family is too well dressed. Again, the timing is perfect. In the millisecond it takes me to debate grabbing a plate before beating a hasty retreat, the mother has enveloped my arm. She steers me to a seat right next to the smelly little tree, because even the kitchen apparently needed one. At least there are no flashing lights on this one.
The mother explains. "Here's your place right at the corner, Vegeta! Right next to my Bulma, you lucky devil!"
The ditzy thing sits opposite to me and serves me a plate filled with chunks of sweet smelling venison and more. The food is even more luxurious than usual. My mouth starts to water when she suggests I start early because I must be famished. She's right, of course. And why should I retreat when such a meal is presented? No, I will not. The woman can go fuck herself. I do resolve to eat fast, and then go back to training. I'd like to avoid whatever the Briefs are getting their panties twisted in a bunch over, but this food here is mine.
I'm only three bites in when she sits down next to me, wearing a short little black dress despite the bad weather. Bulma plops down on her chair hard, boxing me in at the table. I'm sick of the stalking, and I cannot help but wonder if she somehow forgot what she is chasing after. For I know this is no mistake; no coincidence. I glare at her while I finish my plate.
My warning slides off of her like water, an uneven grin on her face as she leans an elbow on the table then pours me a glass of bubbly liquid. "Have some champagne, Vegeta! It's time to celebrate." She laughs at my confused frown, spills a few drops. I can smell the drink on her breath already, imbibed and fearless. How I hate her.
I'm sick of it. Sick of her, and her games. I've been a good, courteous guest.. or as well as can be expected of me. I've bend to her wishes, but it seems the woman has decided to push harder every time. Seems like she's wondering just how far she can push before I snap. Well, how about I push back a little? Just a little shove. I raise my left hand, I'm so tempted... Yet some instinct stops me, and I shove the glass back at her instead as I continue to eat. She scowls at me, no doubt with some nasty observation on her lips, but does not get beyond a frustrated sound.
"Bulma!" It's the bald little thing, the one that keeps dressing up like Kakarot, although the clown-suit he's now in would probably even make that third-class blanch. The gnome comes walking right into my kitchen. Or at least, hers. -No; I'm eating here. I have a claim. Comes walking in with a wide grin, smooths down its weird black suit, perhaps somewhat aware of how ridiculous it looks. "Merry Christmas. I'm afraid Goku and Gohan won't be making it —training hard, I guess."
"Oh, Goku is hiding is he? Can you imagine that, Vegeta? A Saiyan, hiding?"
I stop mid-chew. What is she implying and why does she try to pull me into her inane banter with this hairless midget? I snarl; and the gnome at least has a working brain cell, because it yelps then jumps behind Bulma's mother.
The bald imp tries to cover its reaction with another laugh. "But I did bring someone desperate to get out of the house!" It grins too widely over Panchy's shoulder as Kakarot's banshee wife enters, all decked out like she's part of a circus parade.
I click my tongue for a moment at the odd exchange between Bulma, her mother and the woman. Somehow, all three end up apologising for the food, showing up, and generally existing. Why are these guests here, apart from annoying me? The gnome I can understand; he's a decently proficient fighter for a human, but what is the purpose of bringing the witch? Insurance? Pathetic; I suppose killing this Chi-chi woman might cause me a headache in the form of her husband, but any more of one than if I just blasted Bulma? I'd think Kakarot would show up fast enough either way. Maybe annoyance, in and of itself, is the goal. The banshee is loud and whiny enough for it.
"Yamcha's not coming either?" Kakarot's wife turns in her seat at the far end towards Bulma with an air of sympathy, her ornate hairstyle swinging. Apparently the pair had hoped for even more guests at the table. But with the parents, Bulma, the midget, and the banshee, that's five other people at the table and the cacophony drains my appetite. Seriously, I've eaten at larger gatherings, but usually those present knew to shut up as long as there was food in front of them.
Next to me, the blue minx throws herself back in her chair with an uncaring shrug. "One of those cleansing journeys of his. He's not answering any phone calls or messages, so I guess he's busy too. Or maybe he's running. I don't know; what do you think, Vegeta?"
I chew, then swallow. Pause, then take my next bite. Bulma keeps looking at me so I glare right back. Running and hiding? Oh yes, I can hear her accusation. I'm so fucking sick of her games, her useless theories, and this entire planet. I'm just about ready to end her, consequences be damned. In the silence, the atmosphere cools, and the conversations stutter to a halt.
"Never mind, Bulma, who needs them anyway. Men, right?" It's Kakarot's wife, she seems a little too pleased about Scarface not showing. Then her face darkens. "My Goku is always like that. Disappearing. Not showing up when he promised. And all this while we all agreed this would be the last chance to celebrate Christmas together, because next year will be too close to the androids arriving. Fah. Men."
Across from me, the midget laughs weakly "We're right here…" He trails off and looks my way with a near-hopeful expression.
Well, I don't give a fuck, you gnome. I'm just here to take what I want, and get the fuck out. I'm not fucking hiding or running. Screw you all. To illustrate my point, I shove my empty dish out of the way and pull an ornate plated bird towards me. I know it's meant as a shared meal, but I dare anyone to say anything. They don't. No one would dare. Except Bulma, and she's ignoring me now as she listens to the wife's animated rant.
I cannot help but listen in between mouthfuls. The banshee puts Kakarot down at every turn. I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's kind of nice to hear someone hate on him for a change, and one cannot deny her spunk is entertaining. Yet I'm pretty sure mates are supposed to have your back, and it sounds like this woman would rather that Kakarot never fight again, but instead work in a field like some common laborer. She mews about the only job fit for a Saiyan like it's something bad. "It's been awful, Bulma! Training, it's all he talks about, all he does. Except for eating. He's even pushing Gohan to fight, and I told him school is more important..."
The midget coughs. "Aah, there is that thing where we all die if we cannot beat the androids... ma'am." The little thing seems to regret speaking up. He turns to Dr. Briefs at the far end, who seems wisely preoccupied by his meal. The monk swallows again, before turning my way. "How's your training going, Vegeta? It's got to be going better than mine, right?"
Training is the last thing I want to talk about. The last thing I want to think about… I snarl, but the woman answers for me, touches my knee as she does, patting it. Her overstepping her bounds—in public, no less— shocks me into silence. I hear that misplaced conviction in her voice again.
"We're getting somewhere, I know we are. It's slow going, and frustrating. But we're getting there, mark my words."
Oh yeah. We are definitely going somewhere: a highway to hell, that's where. I turn a nasty smirk at them both. "Remind me why I should help you humans again? Killing the androids might be fun, but orbiting the planet and watching from space as you all get murdered might be even better…"
The smirk turns into a full leer as I turn from the midget to the woman. The only sound in the room now comes from Dr. Briefs cutting his meat as he continues his meal undisturbed. I can feel the accusational stares from the others. All except the mother, who keeps her happy expression blank and beyond any understanding. Yes, how would that feel? I really could run. I have no fucking honor anyway. No pride, no birthright. Screwing you all over would be worth it. Maybe. Surviving another failure might not be.
The midget laughs weakly again to cover up the uncomfortable silence. "There's only sixteen months left, and not even Goku's thinks he's progressed enough to win. The mystery boy said we'd need to be much stronger than he was... We're all going to die, aren't we..?"
Sixteen months. That's how much time is left? Fuck, that little time's all that's left? I swallow, I knew that. I had kept count somewhere in the back of my mind. But to hear it out loud... You're all going to die in sixteen months, human. Oh, I know you're not worried. Kakarot will save you all, but it doesn't really matter to me because by that time I need to be off planet either way. After the androids come, there is no longer any reason to stay. Actually, if I do not become Super Saiyan soon there never was a good reason... Now that we've passed the halfway point this seems very likely indeed. I should run. I should hide. And yet the idea leaves a dirty taste in my mouth. Somehow, throwing myself at those androids even if it means certain death is more appealing.
I could, theoretically. It's a comforting thought, for what it's worth. At least, it is to me. Fucking people over, turning tail at the first chance I could find has been my goal for so long. But once upon a time, I believed warriors didn't run... didn't hide... and it's not like I have much to live for. I could do that. I could, if I wanted. It's my life, I can waste it any way I damn well please.
Or, I could fuck you lot over, and abandon Earth at the last moment. I think I'll leave it up in the air, keep this lot on their toes. The woman does get particularly weird at the thought of me getting hurt, after all.
An uncomfortable silence has settled in, but I just keep smiling. Good. Finally things are as they should be, with them uncomfortable and unsure and me fucking with them. Very good. I've gotten the initiative back. Turned the table on them, so to speak. Yes, very satisfying.
"That reminds me, Vegeta." Bulma casually places a hand on her chin to lean on as she turns my way a little unsteadily. "It might be a little early to start with the gifts, but this is for you. Merry Christmas." She digs down her cleavage with her free hand, and with a triumphant sound fishes something out. I'm loathe to touch it, because I know where it came from. Yet she pushes the little thing towards me, held between her thumb and index finger, until I either take it or have it shoved in my eye.
It's a capsule. A rather big one, I notice. Intrigued, I shake it.
"It's your own spaceship. With GR, of course."
I freeze and nearly drop the capsule in my hand. I cannot help but stand and bend over her with what I hope passes as a grin. "Oh? How thoughtful. What made you think I'd need it?"
She blinks up at me lazily, then sits back so she can keep her eyes focused on me. "So you can, you know, dump us and run away without having to steal my shit."
There is a collective intake of breath. Kakarot's banshee is wide-eyed and frozen. The dwarf has hidden behind the father, who finally has abandoned his meal. Even the mother is shocked, hand over her mouth in a silent gesture.
Only Bulma remains calm. She stares at me with one eyebrow raised, challenging me. Fuck her. Hey, you know what? Maybe I won't become a Super Saiyan. That doesn't mean I can't raise havoc. I'm fucking death incarnate! So, hey. Maybe I should take her up on this? Yeah, it's on. I'm going to ride this pony for all it's worth. And then, when the time comes, I'll disappear somewhere among the vast reaches of space. Don't you dare think I have nowhere to go. I can go anywhere.
"A heartwarming gesture." I toss the capsule into the air, then catch it. Then, I start to squeeze. It groans, more loudly than such a small thing should, and makes loud pops that push back against my hand. Yet I push harder, further, balling my fist until it fizzles out. I toss the smoking ruin in my still-filled champagne glass. "I won't be needing it, though." As I turn, I grab the nuisance of a woman under her armpits and hoist her up until she's at eye-level. "Because I aim to take whatever's yours when I feel like it."
With that, I lift her up higher and shove her butt onto the table so I can pass. Without deigning to acknowledge the rest, I leave, ready for some serious training.
The Krill-thing laughs again. "Yeah, we're all going to die."
Oh, he's right. He's definitely right. But I won't be pushed around. I'd rather die. I'd rather kill her.
