Chapter 3: Recognition

"Excuse me, Mr. Vegeta Brief." A staff member comes up to him.

"What?"

"The producers would like to remind you that you are required to socialize as it is a filmed event no different than beach life and challenges."

"I don't do socializing, or parties," Vegeta answered.

"Mr. Vegeta, it is clearly stated in the contract you signed that you must participate."

Vegeta sighed. "Fine…" she said standing, "But if anyone ends up dead, it's your fault."

The staff member nervously laughed.

"I'm not kidding," Vegeta said, briefly turning to look over his shoulder before putting his hands in his pockets and walking off.

Vegeta walked up to the group. "I have just been informed that I must interact with the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve…" he said unenthusiastically.

Casey, Bob, Jamal, Hassim and Jessica laughed. "Nice Narnia reference," Jessica said.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, "If my father-in-law had the opportunity to name a planet it would be a coin flip between Narnia and Arda."

"What's an Arda?" Becky asked.

"Lord of the Rings," Hassim said, glancing at her before looking back at him. "So, you are?"

"Vegeta Brief, and before you ask, yes, the Capsule Corps. Briefs."

"Oh, so who slept with the maid?" Becky asked.

"What does sleeping with a maid have anything to do with marrying Bulma?"

"Wait. Wait. Wait. YOU'RE the mysterious husband of Bulma Brief," Michael said looking down at this little, balding, tan man at least a foot shorter than him with a God-awful haircut.

"I don't know what's mysterious about me, but yes I am her husband."

"Then why do you have her last name?" Lisa asked.

"Because I had none to give," he said flatly.

"So… you're the one who fathered her baby?" Ichiro asked.

"That's not a polite thing to ask," Bob said.

Lisa looked at Bob. "Darling, you obviously haven't been keeping up with the tabloids," she said. She smiled at Vegeta, "Well? Are you the secret sugar daddy?"

Vegeta lowered his eyebrows. "Bulma is my Queen and Trunks is my heir. There is no 'sugar daddy' about it."

"Adorable," Lisa said condescendingly, "but that's not what we are asking. Are you the father?"

Vegeta raised his right hand and formed a first. "Yes he's fucking mine! If you ever saw him there wouldn't be a single doubt he's mine!"

"Then why didn't you marry her right away?" Bob asked.

"Because we're both adults and none of your business, you judgmental prick!" Vegeta stomped the few steps over and reared his head. "Bulma is a strong, POWERFUL, independent woman. She didn't need me there before, and she didn't need me there after. She raised a child to be proud of without any input from me! I don't care about this fucking wet clod of dirt's traditions! I exist at her side at her leisure as it should be between a male and female!"

"Rather woke of you," Sam said.

"What the fuck you mean by that?" Vegeta asked with venom still in his voice.

Sam stepped back putting Nick between him and Vegeta, "Nothing."

"Pardon me a moment," Ichiro said, excusing himself from the group.

Vegeta turned and watched him walk up to a staff member before being led inside. "Where is he going?"

"Probably going to the bathroom," Vickie said, taking another sip.

"That's your second glass. You shouldn't drink so much," Vegeta said.

"This is a party," Michael said, swirling his wine in his glass. He chuckles, "We are supposed to drink."

"Well ignoring the fact your glass level hasn't changed no matter how many times you've put it to your mouth," Vegeta said turning to him and crossing his arms, "They delayed our dinner in favor of throwing a late-night party with unlimited booze, THE NIGHT BEFORE WE GET DROPPED OFF AT THE BEACHES. Does that not sound suspicious at all? They are getting everyone drunk off their asses for the brilliant television drama of a bunch of hung-over people with no sleep throwing up on a beach."

Bob immediately puts his glass down on the hardwood railing, "That's a very good point."

"This isn't just a strategy game between two teams or even 16 people, there's a third party in this equation," Vegeta rotated to look behind him over his shoulder, "It's our benevolent dictators." He turned back around. "We are their gladiatorial slaves fighting for their entertainment. No matter what we do, it is only possible because they want it. They are the ones in power in this dynamic, and what they want is something that can win the race to the bottom of this planet's evening programing. That means doing everything to torture us as much as possible within the letter of the law. It's…" Vegeta lifts his sleeve to look at his watch, "Fucking 10:21!" Vegeta stormed off, "Where's the damn food! The producers are underneath, correct?"

"Sir, only one contestant can go down at a time," the staff member came over.

"Out of my way!" Vegeta ordered.

The tablecloths all violently fluttered as the staff member went tumbling over the side into the water. As everyone panicked, Vegeta opened the door and disappeared below deck.


Vegeta descended. At the bottom of the steps, he took a deep breath. He smelled meat. A lot of meat. Glorious meat. He made his way towards the smell.

"Oh, God… It's him…"

"I told you. He's the alien who destroyed East City."

Vegeta stopped in his tracks. That was Ichiro's voice identifying him. He looked down an adjoining hall. That sentence poked its head out of the din and clatter of the ship and its crew from somewhere down there. Vegeta turned down that hall as a group of people wearing the red medical symbol raced up the steps.

"Where's Bobby? We need to warn him!"

"Still sleeping. He wanted to be woken up at 11."

"Well, send the message to wake him up."

"How the hell did the physician team mess up this big," a female voice said. "An alien should be obvious." Vegeta heard the squeak of a sliding chair.

"Ichiro, you said you knew a special forces member. We need to contact him!"

There is a pause.

"Vegeta is allowed to be here," Ichiro said in a negative tone. "I know he fathered the baby. But if he is still here four years later and MARRIED, with all the paperwork that needs, then the Briefs pulled every string they had to tie their heir in a neat little legitimacy bow. But that doesn't mean he isn't dangerous and shouldn't be on the show."

Vegeta came to another intersection.

"O+ Would have thought that jerk was a B. Stub scar from improper vestigial tail removal."

Vegeta heard his medical information being rattled off. He continued straight.

"Mensa certified second highest IQ ever recorded… Myostatin-related Muscle Hypertrophy. Notes say abnormal strength, but rare human condition… Karnazes syndrome. Abnormal endurance. Rare human condition…"

He came to another intersection. A sliver of light was coming from an improperly closed door to his left. He turned and walked down the hall.

"Tetrachromacy into the UV spectrum. There!"

"What do you mean?"

"Tetrachromacy can only exist in women because it takes two copies of the gene on the X chromosome. I know because I am one. But according to his blood work, he's a normal XY male."

"Super strength, Super sight, Super intelligence. Sounds like an alien to me. Why did no one catch this? Hell, why has no one done a google search of his picture until now? This is so above my pay grade… Have you gotten in touch with Bobby yet?"

"You forgot Asperger's Syndrome's super hearing," Vegeta said, causing what sounded like Ichiro shouting and things hitting the floor.

Vegeta knocked on the door and opened it. The room was mildly disorganized with lots of papers and laptops. There was one woman and four men in the room. They were all standing. Ichiro was breathing heavily and looked like he had jumped out of his skin at the end of a trail of desk items and an empty strip on a desk.

"I was not coached for this circumstance, but I believe the phrase, 'I come in peace' is appropriate," Vegeta said standing in the door.

"Then you really are an alien?"

"I am a citizen of this planet," Vegeta said firmly, "but if you're referring to my place of birth, I am an immigrant."

The man turned to Ichiro. "Head back up to not cause suspicion. And don't tell ANYBODY about this."

Ichiro nodded. Vegeta fully opened the door and stepped aside. He swiftly left.

Vegeta looked back inside, "I assume you want to speak to me?"

"We are not high enough for this, just head up and… please don't kill anyone," the man said.

Vegeta turned but then looked back in the room. "By the way, when is food? My species has a fast metabolism and a calorie need closer to your cousin Neanderthals than you Sapiens."

"Not till around midnight," he said. "I assume you would like a snack?"

"Snacks for me are around 6000 calories, but anything would be nice… …Actually," Vegeta smiled, "If you want to keep this quiet, it might be a good idea to let me eat down here, so I eat a 'human sized' portion up above on camera."

"That's… like 4 meals," the woman said.

Vegeta's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning, "A meal that's three-fourths of a human's daily total. What are we having?"


Vegeta was in the staff break room inhaling everything in arms reach. The gourmet meals were still being prepared, but staff-quality food wasn't so labor intensive. The French fries were ok, but the burgers and chicken strips and turkey subs were better.

After swallowing the 20th burger, the staff member who took charge in the room came in.

"Mr. Brief, we've gotten a hold of Bobby. He had the lawyer draw up some new paperwork for you to sign. If you don't, you will be removed from the game."

"Ok," he said with his mouth full. He swallowed. "Give it here," he extended his hand.

Vegeta was handed a single piece of paper. The text was barely a half a page. It said he needed to stay within human tolerances, could not use any "strange alien powers" for game advantage and could not finish more than 15 seconds in front of the opposite team member during physical challenges.

"Seems they aren't expecting me to reach merger. Not that I plan getting that far," he thought. He mulled over the words. "Well, not like I'll be going Super Saiyan. Nothing here changes anything I was going to do."

Vegeta shoved another box of chicken strips in his mouth. "Pen," he mumbled, holding out his hand again.

"It's almost 11:10," he said, "The formal dinner will start shortly. Makeup wants to double check you before you go back on deck."

Vegeta ran his thumb over his lips then popped it in and out of his mouth. "Whatever…" he said, handing back the pen and paper. "Same room as before?"

"Yes, right this way."

Vegeta got up and followed him out the door. On the way, Ichiro stepped out from an adjoining hallway, spotted him and seethed before turning and stomping away.

"What's up with him?"

"You're still here. And he had to sign more papers to keep him from telling anyone about you."

Vegeta stopped walking, "He's going to be on my fucking team, isn't he?"

"Those decisions were made prior to your arrival and have not been changed," the staff member assured him. "Hurry."

"That didn't answer my question," Vegeta insisted.

"And you will find out in less than an hour," he said, stopping at a door. "Here we are."


Vegeta made his way back out on deck. Everyone was still at the back of the boat, and as they noticed him, everyone turned and stopped talking. Vegeta took a deep breath, stood straight and walked over with his arms behind his back.

"I'm back," he said, arriving at the group. It became immediately clear that not everyone had taken his warnings to heart.

"So, wis you been?" Lisa asked, now holding on to Michael as not just eye-candy.

"Squeaky wheel," Vegeta gave his fake smile, "But I look forward to the non-microwaved food coming shortly."

"Tis that all you're grumpy about Ichiro?" Nick asked slightly wobbling. "Fejita got food first?"

Lisa and Becky laughed hysterically. Vickie was more reserved in her laughter. Then Sam snorted, and everyone began to laugh to some degree. Except for Michael, who gave an uninterested laugh that made the hair on the back of Vegeta's neck stand on end.

He hadn't heard that laugh in six years.

Vegeta's face returned to his standard annoyed, but unreadable face. Michael looked at him and took another fake sip of his wine. He was trying to intimidate him.

His promise to Bulma meant he couldn't knock him off balance physically, but mentally was another matter. But what did he know about him and this planet's culture that he could twist?

Vegeta turned his head and looked at him waiting for the next sip. Then, he struck.

"If you keep looking at men like that, people will begin to think you belong on the Men's Edition instead of the Woman's."

Michael gagged, spilling red wine all over his tuxedo. Michael looked down then back at him in a silent snarl while everyone laughed. Except for Lisa, who looked horrified. She then slapped Becky in the head shouting to stop laughing.

"Well, I hope that wasn't a rental," Vegeta struck again, reigniting the laughter.

"No. No… it wasn't a rental," Michael said coldly, obviously not used to being on the other end of the joke.

Vegeta smirked and put his hands in his pockets, "If you liked my suit that much, you didn't have to go that far. I could have given you the name of my tailor."

The laughter started again.

A man in a butler's outfit appeared from below deck. "Dinner's ready! Please take your assigned seats."

"About fucking time!" Vegeta shouted, turning around. He went back to his seat while the others looked through the name cards.

There were 4 tables of 4. Vegeta was not amused when he saw Michael and Lisa sit at his table. Jamal was the fourth. Behind Jamal at the table to Vegeta's right was Casey, with Nick, Sam and Vickie. Behind Lisa was Becky, with Hassim, Jerry and Daisuke. The last table was Bob, Sugar Pedal, Jessica and Ichiro.

The waiters came and took orders. The choices were steak, chicken or fish.

"I'll take the steak," Vegeta said. "The closer to mooing the better." Vegeta then waved his finger for the waiter to come closer.

He leaned in.

"Tell the staff I'll eat the leftovers," Vegeta whispered.

The man nodded confused, obviously not in the loop, and took the other orders, also all steaks.

Then across the tables, Vegeta heard the word tofu then laughing. Vegeta rolled his eyes but turned to watch the fireworks.

"So what are you, Vegan?" Bob laughed, chuckling.

Jessica tilted her head slightly and gave a really-we're-doing-this? face. "I follow Sattvic dietary rules as part of my Yoga practices."

"Is that going to mess with you playing?" Bob asked.

"No. While Rajasic and especially Tamasic foods are highly discouraged because of their effects on the soul, it's not like you have to choose to starve to death instead of eating them."

"But, really. What's wrong with tofu?" Daisuke said. "I like tofu."

"I also like tofu," Sugar Pedal said very softly, even Vegeta could barely hear it.

Bob sputtered, "I didn't mean it like that…"

Vegeta laughed, interrupting the conversations. Everyone turned to him.

"Don't choke on your kneecaps there, Bob," Vegeta chuckled.

"And this conversation concerns you, because?" he asked.

"Because I find the shitstorm that comes from when one light-skinned human tells another light-skinned human they eat tofu fucking hilarious, especially when one or even better both are psychos."

"Well neither of us are psychos," Bob said, "So stay out of it."

"Fine," Vegeta rolled his eyes, "I'll leave you to enjoy your appetizer of toes in peace."

Vegeta heard Sugar Pedal whisper to Daisuke "Are the appetizers really made out of toes?" and Daisuke explained the English phrase putting your foot in your mouth.

Vegeta turned around.

"So, Fajita Brief?" Jamal asked.

"Vegeta, not Fajita. I'm not a taco."

"I'm sorry, just I heard Nick say it and…"

"Just never call me Geets. Kakarot gave me that nickname and pardons aren't proactive."

"You're saying you have a pardon?" Lisa asked

Vegeta smiled and rolled his eyes. "I may have done some extracurricular activities in my previous profession," he said downplaying it. "I don't personally care, but the Doc wouldn't let me marry Bulma without it."

"Did you serve any time?" she asked.

"Nope, but the Doc is the Doc." Vegeta picked up his water glass and swirled it, "I won't say he doesn't like me… but… I'm very much a disappointment as a choice in mate." He then drank the whole thing in a single gulp.

Michael smiled. "So, what's your favorite whiskey?"

"Talking to me?" Vegeta asked, setting it down.

Michael nodded and pointed at the empty water glass, "You just treated that water glass like a shot. I know a whiskey man when I see one."

Vegeta glared at him. "I don't drink anymore."

"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't know," Michael said contritely.

Vegeta wasn't convinced. He chuckled, "No. Not like that. Just when you're with Bulma, you want to remember every moment."

"Speaking of the lovely Bulma, how is she? I haven't seen her in years."

"YOU know my wife?"

"We were together for almost half a year, but it wasn't to be."

"Must not have left an impression," Vegeta smirked, "We've talked about all her past lovers, but she never mentioned you."

Vegeta knew instantly he hit a nerve by his reaction. This man was very proud of his belt.

"So, when were you together?"

"Oh, it's been 8 years—"

"Ok, that was Raditz's year," Vegeta thought.

"— She just went on some type of class reunion tropical vacation then stopped returning my calls," he shrugged lightheartedly, but Vegeta saw his discomfort.

"Definitely Raditz. She didn't trust him on her military activities... But she hurt his ego."

"How did you meet?" Vegeta asked smiling.

Michael leaned back and tilted his shoulders. Vegeta recognized his father's throne posture. Relaxed power, as his father taught him. "I was negotiating a LUCRATIVE business deal with Capsule Corp. when we met, and we hit it off."

Vegeta stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Great. Another bastard who thinks the zeros in his bank account equals power levels… wait, I can use this."

"So when did this deal go into effect?"

"We finished negotiations early August."

"No, when did it go into effect? When did what was agreed to start? Point of no return?"

A moment of realization lit in the back of Michael's eyes. He leaned over the table. "Bulma Brief is not that type of woman," he said softly but barely containing his rage.

Vegeta laughed, then also leaned in. "Look you, Bulma may be a vulgar woman, but she's a strategic slut. The night she and Yamcha broke up for the last time, she got me drunk, then told me that if I fucked her, I could break Yamcha more in 10 minutes that I had with my fists in all of our fights up to that point. You got used, like I did. The reason she never mentions you was because you were never a lover, just an itch scratcher."

Vegeta smirked at the fury in his eyes.

"Oh, god!" Lisa shouted, "That was it!" She stood up and fell over. "That was the night!" she shouted pointing at him as people stood to help her up. "That's how she got stuck with an ugly nobody like you!"

Vegeta waited until she got up on her feet to stand. He chuckled, "My wife does not get 'stuck'," he used air quotes, "with anything. He crossed his arms, "She is a woman who knows what she wants, gets what she wants when she wants it and does not take no for an answer and will do anything to get it. "And MY WIFE," he emphasized, "wanted ME." He then smiled, put his hands in his pocket and shrugged, "Yes I'm short with a receding hairline that makes my original widow's peak look like a widow's Everest, but I'm also only 4 points lower in IQ and can actually understand what she jabbers on about after a bad day in the lab with no degree and she understands my field in return. We met our equals in each other, in intelligence and ambition. She is my QUEEN. She does not hang on my arm, nor do I hold hers. We sit SIDE BY SIDE on our dais, so deal with it."

Michael chuckled. Then laughed putting his hand on his stomach. He looked at Vegeta and Vegeta gritted his teeth. Whatever wound he inflicted on his pride had been erased.

"What's so funny?" Vegeta asked innocently.

Michael set Lisa's chair back up, took hold of her and guided her back in her chair. "Let it go, Lisa. You're not the one sleeping with him. Let Bulma wallow in her fate."

"Wallow in what fate?" Vickie called out, "That was the best equal rights speech I've heard in decades. Your wife's a lucky woman!"

There were a lot of smiles and a few nods. Vegeta didn't understand why, but something he said was being rewarded. But Vegeta noticed Sugar Pedal. She was visibly confused and uncomfortable, slumping down trying to make herself even smaller than she already was. But she wasn't his problem, so he nodded acknowledging the admiration and sat back down.

The food arrived at that moment and everyone settled down to eat. Vegeta found it annoying having to eat so slowly, but he was on camera and Casey was just a few feet away. Michael was trying to comfort Lisa to stop staring at him like he just murdered someone while continuing to sweet talk Jamal. The conversations at the other tables offered very little intel. Hassim and Jerry were swapping stories of being famous and charity work. Casey was now talking about her alien conspiracies at the prodding of Sam, but thankfully so far, there was no mention of his family and colleagues. Seemed Jessica and Vickie had started up a cross-table conversation.

Jessica was some kind community activist, and Vickie was a retired activist sharing stories of her youth. But he was surprised that there were sections of large cities in the same state as the country villages his wife always dragged him to. He didn't remember any mud huts during his flyovers. He would need to ask Bulma about that. Jessica then began talking about her group's involvement in the ugly food and freegan movements.

"So, what is this 'hashtag freegan'?" Bob asked. Vegeta could hear the eyeroll.

"It draws attention to the massive food waste at stores and restaurants by people living exclusively off what is thrown away."

"You eat out of the fucking trash like a bunch of addicts?! Are you on drugs?!"

Vegeta could hear the chairs start to screech and rolled his eyes. Vegeta stood up and clamped his hand onto Bob's shoulder forcing him to remain in his chair. "Everyone SIT. BACK. DOWN," he ordered.

Everyone froze. Vegeta looked around. "We are not here to fight. We're here to starve to death for the world's amusement and literally THE LAST SURVIVOR gets the money. We all got here because we fit some dumb shit focus group stereotype so everyone on this stupid planet as a hero and villain to root for. This is our last meal before we get sent off to slaughter AND I WANT TO EAT IN PEACE! So stop acting like morons and start acting like humans! If you feel all haughty about yourselves that the word to describe all the good in the world is your own species name, then I suggest you start living up to it!"

"Mr. Brief is right," Michael said standing. "Tonight is about friendship and comradery. We are about to embark on an experience that few have had but many have dreamed of." Michael lifted his wine glass to toast, "We all come from disparate places and life experiences but in the here and now, we are one. Let's toast to the experience of a lifetime. To The Last Survivor!"

Everyone slowly lifted their glasses. Michael then took another fake drink and the others followed drinking for real.

Vegeta released Bob's shoulder and glared at Michael. Michael gave a smug grin as he sat down. Vegeta sat down himself and returned to eating in silence.

Michael leaned over the table, "Honey and vinegar, Mr. Brief."

Vegeta did not look up from his food. "In my experience, the stronger the flowery perfume, the bigger the piece of shit it's covering up." He took a bite of his steak.

"Lisa," Michael scolded, holding his arm in front of her before she did anything. He dropped his arm. "For someone who so crudely asked everyone to defer to our better angels, you seem to be falling short of your own measure."

Vegeta paused briefly thinking of a response. He smiled, "Meters or yards?"


The dinner calmed down with Bob apologizing to Jessica. The conversations turned internal to each table. That table turned to Sugar Pedal, who had practically crawled under the table. Vickie had turned back to her table and joined the questioning of Casey. Becky and Jerry were now dominating their table, with Becky clearly showing her desperation for fame, but by leeching off of others instead of her own efforts and had chosen to draw blood from him. Jerry seemed to realize this, thankfully.

Jamal was trying to have a conversation with Vegeta about lifting and his gym routine. He couldn't tell the truth since the GR was from alien tech. Bulma also wanted him to downplay his abilities as a warrior, so she coached him hard. He didn't know how believable he was, but Jamal seemed impressed he could do 400 but stayed at 150 for normal training. He wasn't technically lying, just not revealing the units were Gs and not pounds.

Vegeta suddenly turned around.

"What is it?" Jamal asked.

"Don't you hear that thumping noise? he asked.

"I don't hear anything," Michael said.

"It sounds like a…" Vegeta suddenly grabbed his food and piled it on one plate. "Everyone grab your plates! Here they come!"

Everyone stared at him until the helicopter suddenly appeared. It circled then hovered over the deck. Everyone but Vegeta was ducking from the blade wash. All four tables went flying with one flipping into the water. The contestants were crouching in the mess of chairs, broken plates and glasses. Vegeta simply stuffed his face unconcerned by the tornado of wind.

The producer and host, Bobby Provost, rappelled from the helicopter into the center of the deck where the tables had been. He unhooked the rope and it flew off.

Vegeta walked over to the side of the boat and leaned against the side continuing to eat.

"Hello everyone! I am Bobby Provost and welcome to The Last Survivor! I hope everyone has had a pleasant evening?"

"Oh, it's been one surprise after another," Ichiro said with a hint of disapproval slipping into his voice.

"Glad to hear it!" Bobby said not noticing the tone. "So now that everyone has had a few hours to talk with each other, can anyone tell me what they think the theme is for this season based on who you have met tonight."

Vegeta raised his hand to his mouth and shouted "Is it A—Holes vs. sweet cinnamon rolls that are the first victims in slasher films?!"

Bobby looked over at the grinning man at the railing. He ignored him and turned back to the others. "Anyone else?"

"Famous vs. Losers?" Becky asked.

This received many glares from the other contestants.

"Any other guesses?" Bobby asked.

"Small town vs. City?" Casey answered.

"Rich vs. Middle class?" Michael answered.

After an extended silence, he side-eyed Vegeta. "Despite the unfortunate wording," he looked back at the others, "Vegeta is the closest. The teams have been grouped according to your personality tests. Namely your type A and B personality scores plus the lesser known type C and D. Because of this, this season's title will be The Last Survivor: Fire and Water! The red team will be team Berapi and the blue team will be team Samundra." He clapped his hands together. "I hope everyone enjoyed dinner. Once the staff cleans up, the open bar will return."

"When will the boat return to the resort so we can sleep?" Vegeta demanded.

Bobby turned to Vegeta. He was pissed that his outburst had ruined the shot. "That would be around 2:30."

"So in bed by 3 then wake up at 6 or 7 to maroon us? Fuck you!" Vegeta shouted. He put his almost empty plate down on the railing and walked past Bobby making sure he had to move to stop them from bumping shoulders. He then hopped the gate blocking off the deck from the upper levels and began climbing the steps.

"Where are you going?!" Bobby shouted as staff scrambled to stop him.

"I'm going to go sleep on the roof!"

The staff cornered him at the top of the steps. Vegeta calmly shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "You people know EXACTLY who I am," he chuckled darkly. He then leaned forward, "Yet do you really think you can stop me?" His smile disappeared. "Get out of my way," he snarled.

Everyone down on the deck saw the crew slowly back away clearly in terror. One even screamed and stumbled as he ran. Vegeta continued unobstructed up to the wheel house where he climbed the ladder up to the roof. They watched him take off his coat, roll it up then disappear from view as he sat down.

Bobby sighed frustrated, "Ok everyone! Let's get another take before we were interrupted!"

Bobby returned to position. "The teams have been grouped according to your personality tests. Namely your type A and B personality scores plus the lesser known type C and D. Because of this, this season's title will be The Last Survivor: Fire and Water! The red team will be team Berapi and the blue team will be team Samundra." He clapped his hands together. "I hope everyone enjoyed dinner. Once the staff cleans up, the open bar will return." He then went to the ladder at the side and stood on the railing. "But for now, I must bid you au due," He bowed, "Next time I see you, we will be on the beaches to determine The Last Survivor!" He then extended his arms, leaned back and fell from the boat.

Sugar Pedal screamed as the other contestants ran to the side.

Bobby had fallen into a small boat and was being lowered from being caught mosh pit style. He saluted as the boat untied itself from the yacht and sped off.

They sighed or chuckled in relief and were shuffled to the rear of the boat by the staff as they began cleaning. Bob, Jessica and Casey went over to calm Sugar Pedal. Lisa hung onto Michael. Becky tried to hang onto Jerry but he shook her off, turned his back and walked away. Becky stumbled but Hassim caught her before she faceplanted. He propped her against the railing, before turning to Jamal and Ichiro who again joined him. Daisuke also came over.

"What does your watch say, Hassim?" Ichiro asked.

Hassim moved his jacket sleeve to view his watch. "Almost 12:30." He looked up from his watch and crossed his arms, "Vegeta's perfectly right. They are keeping us up on purpose and plying us alcohol."

"The third party," Jamal said shaking his head, "All my years watching this show never thought of the crew as more than cameramen and people who set up the challenges but these guys are really trying to force drama. Judging from the season's name they are putting all the type A's on one team. That's begging for trouble. Do you know what you guys are?"

"My wife says I'm an A, but I don't see it," Hassim chuckled.

"I'm pretty laid back. I might be a B," Jamal shrugged.

"I don't have any idea," Daisuke said, "But what is a Type C and D?"

"No clue," Ichiro said, "If they didn't take our phones, I could look."

"Bars opened!"

Everyone turned and waiters pushing 4 large carts came up to them full of wine, whiskey, a cocktail cart and a row of taps.

Becky, Lisa, Sam, Nick and Vickie went to the carts. Michael also took a glass of wine and began his routine again.

"Hey! Hey!" one of the bartenders left his cart and went over to the corner of the ship. Sugar Pedal had sat down on the deck and Bob was about to lay his jacket on her. "No sleeping!"

"Then why does Mr. Brief get to do it?" Ichiro demanded. "He gets away with clearly threatening people and gets to nap?"

The staff stopped in their tracks and looked blankly at each other. The ship fell silent waiting for someone to say anything.

"I'll go talk to the crew," one of the janitors finally said. She went below deck.

The staff slowly went back to work and the contestants began talking again.

Jerry walked over to the group. "So, um, Ichiro, was it? You obviously have a history with Vegeta. So, what's up?"

"I had to sign a bunch of extra NDAs because I recognized him. I can't say a damn thing…"

"So you don't actually know him, but know of him?" Hassim said.

"Vegeta mentioned he had a pardon," Jamal said, "But the way he downplayed it I thought he did some embezzling or something. But, then again… he did say he got into a few fist fights with his wife's ex back before they broke up."

Jerry shrugged, "Maybe he punched some poor intern in the face." He chuckled looking at Ichiro, "If the tooth fairy was real, I would have been a millionaire by 25."

"Don't try and read my reactions," Ichiro said.

Hassim crossed his arms thinking. "So, very rich guy, no job while his wife works, bad temper and we know he's gotten into fisticuffs before." He nodded looking at the others, "Sounds like a blacklisted man to me."

Jerry chuckled, "Well, in any case, not like he can do anything once the game starts tomorrow. Like he and Michael said, he's one of us. He's just going to be one more guy on bebe? Bebiti? Whatever… the red team."

Jamal's face fell, "Oh boy… He and Michael were already goading each other at the table." He looked at Hassim, "Sucks to be you buddy."


Michael and Lisa were off by themselves.

"Seems we are probably going to be on the same team," Michael said. He looked around, "Looks like everyone is grouping off and arranging alliances already as well."

"So what was that about at the table? What was so fucking funny about a respected woman like Bulma getting entrapped by that type of man?"

"That little jalapeno on a stick up his ass thinks he's a damn royalty. He's completely delusional. He's just some dumb pool boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He chuckled, then smiled at Lisa. "Don't you think it will be fun knocking him off that ivory tower and put him back in his place?"

Lisa paused. "He seems to have the strength for it, although 400 pounds sounded like a baseless brag. I'm all for the little groundskeeper doing the dirty work."


Suddenly the door to below decks opened and a man in a producer's shirt exited. "Everyone, can I have your attention!"

The contestants stop talking and look over.

"After talking it over with Bobby and the captain, the crew bunks are open to anyone who is clearly exhausted or passed out drunk starting at 1 am. But everyone else must stay awake. The show staff will be the final judge on this. That will be all." He turned and walked back through the door.

Bob looked at his watch. "Come on, Sugar. We got a half hour still then we can get you to bed," he said reaching out his hand. Sugar Pedal grabbed it and was helped up. He then took his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Casey, Jessica, watch her a moment," Bob said before walking over to the staff by the gate.

"Excuse me," he asked, "I've noticed no one has gone to Mr. Brief yet. Is it alright if I'm the one to tell him about the beds opening up?"

The staff instantly went wide-eyed and pale. "Not… going to… stop you," one of them stuttered.

He nodded, "Thank you."

"It… still unlocked."

Bob opened the gate and walked up the stairs then climbed the ladder to the roof. He poked his head over the roofline and found Vegeta resting with his jacket rolled up as a pillow. "Mr. Brief?"

"Yeah what?" Vegeta asked.

"The staff is going to open up beds to sleep in in about 30 minutes."

"Yeah, I heard."

Bob looked down at the deck confused that he heard anything at this distance.

"Do you really think they are going to go through with it?" Vegeta continued. "They said they will be the final judge. This game is premised on inflicting as much suffering as they can legally get away with on the contestants. They are not going to let ANYONE sleep before 3 am. Just you watch."

"Speaking of the staff, they seem intimidated by you. I understand your frustration tonight, we all feel it, but you should try and tone that down. You're making a bad impression with everyone."

"I spent more than a decade being ordered to lick the toilets clean after my superior had personally used them. There is nothing these gutless morons can do to me that will make me obey them. If they were honest instead of being manipulative and deceitful little shits, I might have played along with this game, but right now, they have lost all my respect." Vegeta then rolled over and turned his back to him. "Now, if you excuse me, I was trying to sleep."

Bob climbed down and made his way back to the deck. On his way back to Sugar Pedal, he stopped and looked back up in Vegeta's direction.

"Hey Bob," Jerry said, placing his hand on his shoulder, "Just leave the grump alone. Come over to the watering hole." He chuckled, "This one has actual water!"

Bob nodded and went with him to the back of the boat. Michael had just finished gathering everyone around him again and Vegeta was quickly forgotten.