AN: Hey, thanx Mysterious Saiyan for the enthusiastic review! And yes ya
did boast my confidence!
Chapter 4: Drunk
He slept for two full days before the sound of his growling stomach finally woke him up in the middle of the afternoon on the third day. Throwing off the covers, the saiya-jin noticed that the smaller of his wounds had healed completely, and the enormous bruise on his back was considerably smaller. He also noticed that he smelled pretty disgusting. He was in dire need of a shower.
Getting out of bed, he limped over to the huge shower. He turned the hot water on full blast, before slipping off what remained of his armor and body suit and stepping into the burning spray. Falling to his knees, he let the water wash away all the dirt and grime and blood that were reminders of his death on Namek. It felt so good to be able to take a shower again. The last time he'd taken one had been on Namek when he'd gone to collect the Dragonballs from Frieza's ship. And of course with all his luck the bald midget and Kakarot's brat had gotten to them first. Immortality hadn't been his.
He stopped and thought for a minute, his brow furrowed in confusion. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't want to be immortal. Death had felt so good. No pain, no demons, no monsters, no horrible white faces in his dreams. There was just... nothing. Blackness. And he'd had that snatched away from him, like every thing else in his life, when they had wished him back. 'Maybe...' He shook his head. No. Suicide was completely out of the question. That was as honorable a death as he had been given on Namek. Vegeta, the last prince of Vegetasei, would never drop to those cowardly standards.
Without stopping to think, Vegeta started to reach for the bottle of shampoo with his tail, but remembered with a growl that he no longer had a tail. His proud tail was nothing more than a painful stump now. It had been cut off. Cut off by some fat fuck with no more than six hundred points of power. That was the most humiliating thing, to have the last link to his heritage cut off like some expendable appendage. It was enough to make him retch with disdain. He spent the rest of his shower immersed in a fantasy where he tortured that fat slob to death, grinning at the imagined screams.
After stepping out of the shower and towel drying his hair, he examined himself in the mirror and was shocked to see large dark circles under his eyes. He turned around to see the bruise. It wasn't as bad as it had been but it was still very painful, a deep muscle bruise, probably. He scowled at it, before leaving the bathroom and turning to see that they had delivered his clothes while he had been asleep.
He started to pick through the items, his hands shaking slightly from the lack of nutrition. He had to get something to eat. But first he had to get some clothes on. Finding a pair of jeans and a Metallica T-shirt he put them on and, after a short stop to observe himself in the mirror and to get both his cards from his armor, left the room.
His stride quickened when he finally saw a restraunt over to his right. He entered it and ignoring the sign that stated 'please wait to be seated' grabbed a menu and went to seat himself. He was a prince after all. He shouldn't have to wait for anything. A waitress approached the starving saiya-jin, whipping out a notebook in the process.
"Hello sir! How are you doing today?" She said, all smiles. Vegeta just grunted in acknowledgement not tearing his eyes away from the menu. She pretended not to notice. "Do you know what you want?"
He continued to look at the menu for a bit before setting it down and looking up at the smiling waitress. "I want four plates of that spaghetti stuff, with about seven fried chicken legs, a lobster, a pound of crab legs, and about eight steaks, rare. Oh! And on the crab legs, hold the butter. That shit makes me want to puke." The waitress just stared at the man in front of her until Vegeta asked if she had gotten it all down. She nodded and scrambled to the kitchen to put in the order.
He grinned to himself. He had always loved terrorizing the cooks on Frieza's ship with his insane orders, barking at them to hurry the hell up while they were clearly trying their hardest. It was one of the few good memories he had from his dark past. After a good forty five minutes, the food was laid before the hungry prince by ten different waiters and waitresses all panting from the weight of it.
Vegeta grinned like a child, before attacking the food with all the ferocity of a saiya-jin that hadn't eaten in almost three weeks. He finished off the chicken first, considering its taste, before plowing through the spaghetti, crab legs, and the lobster leaving the steaks for last. After relishing each bite of the steaks before they were gone, the satiated prince sat back in his seat. He almost felt bloated.
The waitress returned, and after marveling over the amount of food this man had just consumed, placed the bill face down on his table. "Here's you're bill, sir." She said and left quickly before the man got violent about the amount of credits practically buying the restraunt would cost him. To her surprise, while watching from her safe place behind the closed doors of the kitchen, he didn't seem to care as he picked it up to look at it. She was so confused that she took her break early to have a smoke.
It was becoming late and, after paying the bill, Vegeta decided to roam around the city aimlessly he was so board. The city was a dirty place, full of an assortment of stripper bars and dark ally ways. He knew that if someone were to make the mistake of taking a shortcut down one of those ally ways on their way home one night that they would be rapped and/or mugged, then shot. And the funny thing was he didn't know how he knew it. He just... knew. Like he knew about the clothing store and the hotel. He hated it and yet he liked it. For if he hadn't known, he would have died on this horrid little mud ball. That was what the scouters did. They let you know.
He decided to go down one of those very ally ways he knew about. He could hear voices. Talking, laughing, they sounded intoxicated. He smiled. Alcohol! He had known about alcohol even before the scouters influence. Soldiers on Frieza's ship drank the sour liquid often to get through each day without going completely insane, Vegeta being one of those soldiers. Beer was a common thing throughout the galaxy. Originally produced on a planet called Twafer, the natives sold the stuff out to distant planets, and apparently it had gotten to earth. It was one of the many reasons the planet was not purged. 'At least something on this miserable planet's done right.' He thought happily.
He turned around and walked out of the ally and away from the voices. He would find his own alcohol. Turning East on a busy street he took in his surroundings, searching for a bar he could call worthy of his presence. He needed a drink. Bad. The strong beverage, he knew, would numb his senses, helping him forget about his predicament and the large bruise in the middle of his back, for a short time. Testing the scents of many bars, he finally found one that didn't have horney humans hanging out the front doors.
It was a dingy little place, the windows were cracked and the door was practically falling off its hinges. It was a bar Vegeta could trust. He couldn't trust the newer ones that blared loud rap music and handed out condoms for free. No, he liked a nice quiet place to drink. Sitting down on a stool with a barely audible 'huff' he quietly waited for the bar tender to notice him while taking in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the lack of people there not counting the one drunken hobo in the far corner.
"What can I do ye for?" The bar tender said, while wiping clean a mug, and Vegeta took in his strange Irish accent with an annoyed snort. Damn humans made every thing so difficult.
"I don't care. Anything. Something strong though."
The man behind the bar nodded, like he knew the answer to some unknown question that Vegeta was oblivious to. Turning to the spigots behind him, he grabbed a shot glass and proceeded to mix a dangerous looking drink while whistling to himself. Finished, he turned slapping the glass down in front of the saiya-jin who upended it immediately. Cocking his head to one side, he considered the taste before nodding to himself.
"I want that one. Give me two bottles." The bar tender stared. The guy had just drank a shot of tequila and hadn't even batted an eyelash! And the worst part was now he wanted two whole bottles of the shit! The Irishman shrugged before disappearing behind the counter and coming up a second later with two small bottles of the killer drink. He wondered if the man knew there was an even bigger bottle he could buy, if he would exchange them for those. But he didn't mention it for the customer's own safety.
Vegeta grabbed the bottles before throwing a wad of cash he'd gotten from an ATM at the startled bar tender and leaving the bar. He got to where he was about a block away from the hotel before his lips were numb. He felt slaphappy and retarded as he rode the elevator up to his room taking random drinks from the second bottle. He had trouble swiping the card key through the reader and he even dropped it once but instead of getting annoyed he burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing ever. Entering the room he took a look around and squinted as his vision swam warping the furniture together until it was just one large mass of multicolored items.
His ebony orbs settled themselves upon the balcony outside. After fumbling with the door handle, the severely intoxicated saiya-jin managed to get the door open and step out into the cool night his eyes scanning the stars above his head. Suddenly he didn't feel so good, as he found the familiar star constellations that would lead one to Vegetasei if they were lost. But one really was lost if they hoped to get there now. That last thought had just ruined the saiya-jin's happy buzz. Now the hangover would come, and that was all Vegeta had to look forward to now.
Well there ya go people. Chapter four. Tell me what ya think!
Chapter 4: Drunk
He slept for two full days before the sound of his growling stomach finally woke him up in the middle of the afternoon on the third day. Throwing off the covers, the saiya-jin noticed that the smaller of his wounds had healed completely, and the enormous bruise on his back was considerably smaller. He also noticed that he smelled pretty disgusting. He was in dire need of a shower.
Getting out of bed, he limped over to the huge shower. He turned the hot water on full blast, before slipping off what remained of his armor and body suit and stepping into the burning spray. Falling to his knees, he let the water wash away all the dirt and grime and blood that were reminders of his death on Namek. It felt so good to be able to take a shower again. The last time he'd taken one had been on Namek when he'd gone to collect the Dragonballs from Frieza's ship. And of course with all his luck the bald midget and Kakarot's brat had gotten to them first. Immortality hadn't been his.
He stopped and thought for a minute, his brow furrowed in confusion. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't want to be immortal. Death had felt so good. No pain, no demons, no monsters, no horrible white faces in his dreams. There was just... nothing. Blackness. And he'd had that snatched away from him, like every thing else in his life, when they had wished him back. 'Maybe...' He shook his head. No. Suicide was completely out of the question. That was as honorable a death as he had been given on Namek. Vegeta, the last prince of Vegetasei, would never drop to those cowardly standards.
Without stopping to think, Vegeta started to reach for the bottle of shampoo with his tail, but remembered with a growl that he no longer had a tail. His proud tail was nothing more than a painful stump now. It had been cut off. Cut off by some fat fuck with no more than six hundred points of power. That was the most humiliating thing, to have the last link to his heritage cut off like some expendable appendage. It was enough to make him retch with disdain. He spent the rest of his shower immersed in a fantasy where he tortured that fat slob to death, grinning at the imagined screams.
After stepping out of the shower and towel drying his hair, he examined himself in the mirror and was shocked to see large dark circles under his eyes. He turned around to see the bruise. It wasn't as bad as it had been but it was still very painful, a deep muscle bruise, probably. He scowled at it, before leaving the bathroom and turning to see that they had delivered his clothes while he had been asleep.
He started to pick through the items, his hands shaking slightly from the lack of nutrition. He had to get something to eat. But first he had to get some clothes on. Finding a pair of jeans and a Metallica T-shirt he put them on and, after a short stop to observe himself in the mirror and to get both his cards from his armor, left the room.
His stride quickened when he finally saw a restraunt over to his right. He entered it and ignoring the sign that stated 'please wait to be seated' grabbed a menu and went to seat himself. He was a prince after all. He shouldn't have to wait for anything. A waitress approached the starving saiya-jin, whipping out a notebook in the process.
"Hello sir! How are you doing today?" She said, all smiles. Vegeta just grunted in acknowledgement not tearing his eyes away from the menu. She pretended not to notice. "Do you know what you want?"
He continued to look at the menu for a bit before setting it down and looking up at the smiling waitress. "I want four plates of that spaghetti stuff, with about seven fried chicken legs, a lobster, a pound of crab legs, and about eight steaks, rare. Oh! And on the crab legs, hold the butter. That shit makes me want to puke." The waitress just stared at the man in front of her until Vegeta asked if she had gotten it all down. She nodded and scrambled to the kitchen to put in the order.
He grinned to himself. He had always loved terrorizing the cooks on Frieza's ship with his insane orders, barking at them to hurry the hell up while they were clearly trying their hardest. It was one of the few good memories he had from his dark past. After a good forty five minutes, the food was laid before the hungry prince by ten different waiters and waitresses all panting from the weight of it.
Vegeta grinned like a child, before attacking the food with all the ferocity of a saiya-jin that hadn't eaten in almost three weeks. He finished off the chicken first, considering its taste, before plowing through the spaghetti, crab legs, and the lobster leaving the steaks for last. After relishing each bite of the steaks before they were gone, the satiated prince sat back in his seat. He almost felt bloated.
The waitress returned, and after marveling over the amount of food this man had just consumed, placed the bill face down on his table. "Here's you're bill, sir." She said and left quickly before the man got violent about the amount of credits practically buying the restraunt would cost him. To her surprise, while watching from her safe place behind the closed doors of the kitchen, he didn't seem to care as he picked it up to look at it. She was so confused that she took her break early to have a smoke.
It was becoming late and, after paying the bill, Vegeta decided to roam around the city aimlessly he was so board. The city was a dirty place, full of an assortment of stripper bars and dark ally ways. He knew that if someone were to make the mistake of taking a shortcut down one of those ally ways on their way home one night that they would be rapped and/or mugged, then shot. And the funny thing was he didn't know how he knew it. He just... knew. Like he knew about the clothing store and the hotel. He hated it and yet he liked it. For if he hadn't known, he would have died on this horrid little mud ball. That was what the scouters did. They let you know.
He decided to go down one of those very ally ways he knew about. He could hear voices. Talking, laughing, they sounded intoxicated. He smiled. Alcohol! He had known about alcohol even before the scouters influence. Soldiers on Frieza's ship drank the sour liquid often to get through each day without going completely insane, Vegeta being one of those soldiers. Beer was a common thing throughout the galaxy. Originally produced on a planet called Twafer, the natives sold the stuff out to distant planets, and apparently it had gotten to earth. It was one of the many reasons the planet was not purged. 'At least something on this miserable planet's done right.' He thought happily.
He turned around and walked out of the ally and away from the voices. He would find his own alcohol. Turning East on a busy street he took in his surroundings, searching for a bar he could call worthy of his presence. He needed a drink. Bad. The strong beverage, he knew, would numb his senses, helping him forget about his predicament and the large bruise in the middle of his back, for a short time. Testing the scents of many bars, he finally found one that didn't have horney humans hanging out the front doors.
It was a dingy little place, the windows were cracked and the door was practically falling off its hinges. It was a bar Vegeta could trust. He couldn't trust the newer ones that blared loud rap music and handed out condoms for free. No, he liked a nice quiet place to drink. Sitting down on a stool with a barely audible 'huff' he quietly waited for the bar tender to notice him while taking in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the lack of people there not counting the one drunken hobo in the far corner.
"What can I do ye for?" The bar tender said, while wiping clean a mug, and Vegeta took in his strange Irish accent with an annoyed snort. Damn humans made every thing so difficult.
"I don't care. Anything. Something strong though."
The man behind the bar nodded, like he knew the answer to some unknown question that Vegeta was oblivious to. Turning to the spigots behind him, he grabbed a shot glass and proceeded to mix a dangerous looking drink while whistling to himself. Finished, he turned slapping the glass down in front of the saiya-jin who upended it immediately. Cocking his head to one side, he considered the taste before nodding to himself.
"I want that one. Give me two bottles." The bar tender stared. The guy had just drank a shot of tequila and hadn't even batted an eyelash! And the worst part was now he wanted two whole bottles of the shit! The Irishman shrugged before disappearing behind the counter and coming up a second later with two small bottles of the killer drink. He wondered if the man knew there was an even bigger bottle he could buy, if he would exchange them for those. But he didn't mention it for the customer's own safety.
Vegeta grabbed the bottles before throwing a wad of cash he'd gotten from an ATM at the startled bar tender and leaving the bar. He got to where he was about a block away from the hotel before his lips were numb. He felt slaphappy and retarded as he rode the elevator up to his room taking random drinks from the second bottle. He had trouble swiping the card key through the reader and he even dropped it once but instead of getting annoyed he burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing ever. Entering the room he took a look around and squinted as his vision swam warping the furniture together until it was just one large mass of multicolored items.
His ebony orbs settled themselves upon the balcony outside. After fumbling with the door handle, the severely intoxicated saiya-jin managed to get the door open and step out into the cool night his eyes scanning the stars above his head. Suddenly he didn't feel so good, as he found the familiar star constellations that would lead one to Vegetasei if they were lost. But one really was lost if they hoped to get there now. That last thought had just ruined the saiya-jin's happy buzz. Now the hangover would come, and that was all Vegeta had to look forward to now.
Well there ya go people. Chapter four. Tell me what ya think!