Yeah, I guess I deserve a little flak. After all, I planned to have this out months ago. Work stress, combined with other ideas, and a horrible case of writer's block in the middle of this chapter all conspired to delay this. Thankfully, a recent review reminded me that there are still people interested in hearing more of this story, which spurred me to write more. This story isn't finished, for what it's worth, I just needed motivation. In case that bit of subtlety went over your head, plese review, so I know you care... Thanks!
I apologize for the relative brevity of this chapter. I have a difficult time writing Vegeta, and I didn't want to get too carried away with it. Let me know how I did. Now, without further pomp and circumstance, here goes...
Aftermath, Chapter 6
Adaptation
He would never get used to the bed.
Time was, he'd never bother with the inconvenience of actually sleeping in the accursed thing. For one, it was too soft. Any warrior worth his salt could make do with the ground and not complain. Until recently, he'd never actually slept in it, always taking the floor on any occasion that he had to sleep in there.
Oh, the woman had bellowed greatly at first, especially after their relationship had become physical, but he'd stood firm. 'A warrior does not coddle himself in such finery!' he'd proclaimed, ending the argument every time as far as he was concerned. Eventually, she simply accepted it, barely harrumphing whenever he'd extricate himself to lie down at night.
Recently, though, with his resurrection, Vegeta had found himself spending time there, his arm wrapped around Bulma's form as she fell asleep at night. The bed was still uncomfortable as hell, but less so than it used to be. He tried not to think about what this might mean about himself. Introspection was not natural to him, and he was learning it slowly, and would probably never be adept at it. It was also something that he was slowly incorporating into his life.
This was much harder than the bed, as that was mere physical conditioning of having to make do with available accommodation on hostile planets in his youth. This was the undoing of an entire worldview crafted over decades of service in Freiza's ranks. Never question, never think. And never, ever, ask why. Residing on a world whose residents seemed to revel in all these activities was apparently rubbing off on the Saiyan Prince, causing him to think in directions he'd never allowed himself to go before . . .
It was in this state that he fell asleep, restless in mind . . .
He fell into his dream role quickly enough. One of his own memories, in fact. One of the countless worlds he and Nappa had shattered in their time together. This one was little different from the rest, significant only in it being the last, destroying it as a diversion on their way to find Kakarott. Vegeta reveled in the memory, recalling the pitiful, bug-like inhabitants and the awe that they had received. They'd actually been perceived as heroes on that world, simply because the leader they picked a fight with had been unpopular with the people. They'd been lathered with praise, invited to return . . .
Disgusting, really. Were they really that stupid? They deserved what came to them, Vegeta thought, bloodlessly, his mind disdainful of this pitiful species. Hopefully, Earth shall prove to be more interesting, he mused as he prepared to blast the world to dust, ki pooling into his hand . . .
His pink hand . . .
Suddenly, Vegeta found himself somewhere different. On Earth this time, but not in his body. A second's thought was all it took to recognize the pink, stubby arm as that of Kid Buu. He registered it as his own arm, distantly, as the massive ball of energy in his palm left it, tearing for the ground . . .
Or rather, would have, if it were not deflected at the last instant by two meddling Saiyans . . .
It was curious, to look upon himself in his own dream. He and Kakarott looked tired, strained. He remembered the feeling well, having experienced it firsthand when he'd gone through this in reality. They almost didn't get it away in time. Almost . . .
Alien emotion filled him. Childish, innocent, yet totally rotten. Obviously the feelings of Kid Buu, Vegeta was nonetheless washed away by the righteous anger at the impertinence, the audacity of anyone who would stand up to him, to get in the way of HIS fun.
DIE!
The only coherent thought in his head as he powered up even more, this should definitely destroy them this time. Oh, yes! He watched, exultant as the monstrous energy flew out, engulfing everything, the two pitiful Saiyans. losing ground, HA, there went their friends, vaporized by his might ohgoodygoodytheyweregoingtodienownownowdiediedie!
He was suddenly himself again, on a battlefield. Buu was gone. He registered this only faintly, as he noticed his surroundings. A ruined city, a storm brewing . . . He recognized this place . . .
East Capital City.
Most of it was a large crater now, but here, on the outskirts, it was worse. The dragonballs had never been used to fix this, the herald of Nappa and his' arrival on Earth. Vegeta had visited this place recently, had gone to one of the more ruined looking sections. Most of the bodies from that attack had been recovered now, many years later, but collapsed buildings and many possessions had been left behind in the wake. A broken television here, an abandoned toy there, doors and windows shattered. Here and there, one the walls, you could even make out the charred outline of a vaporized body or two from those lucky enough to have caught the blast full force and not be crushed by collapsing rubble or suffocate when the outrushing air sucked the very oxygen from their lungs.
He looked up, seeing himself, charging that blast meant for the planet Arlia, now mysteriously here. He hung his head, emotionally tired and not caring anymore, focusing on a child's toy, some type of stuffed animal. Detached from the brightening light that signified oncoming death, Vegeta pondered on how a child's playing could have survived all this. He saw the massive fireball coming down, reflected in one button eye on the toy. Brighter and brighter. Too bright . . .
He awoke, but not with a jerk. Years of sleeping under combat conditions had taught him to remain still, to give the impression of continuing sleep. That skill had saved him on more than one occasion working with Frieza's flunkies . . . Maintaining his position next to the woman, he thought about the dream . . .
Most beings in the universe would have been horrified by all the imagery, unsettled by the implication of your own mind pointing yourself out as an unfeeling killing machine. Vegeta was not like most beings. He knew he was an unfeeling killing machine. Besides, it helped that this was hardly the first time he'd had this dream. Since coming back to life, he'd had this dream every other night. It only bothered him because it interrupted his sleep cycle too often for his tastes.
He was familiar with the human emotion of remorse, but knew it to be a futile emotion. What else was he going to be but a destroyer, raised in Frieza's army and a son of the Saiyan race, in that order. As much as he hated to admit it, he had little concept of real Saiyan ideals and beliefs. The race and planet were destroyed when he was very young, and Nappa had always kowtowed to him and his superior power, never correcting the young Vegeta, much less filling him in on the finer points of Saiyan culture and mores. And Vegeta was hardly going to ask, either.
Sometimes, he did regret that. In some ways, he and Kakarott were the last scions of the Saiyan race. In another way, though, the race was already dead, condemned when Frieza, the dealer of planets and death, snuffed their world out in an instant. Just like Buu, years later, murdering many planets all in the name of fun . . .
And to think that he'd once lusted after Frieza's position in the cosmos . . .
Frieza was dead, his mind stated firmly, shaking off the effects of the dream now and going it's own direction. Frieza was dead, but his empire was not. Any empire the size of Frieza's was much larger than any one being, despite that one being's power. Vegeta would never know how the Earth had managed to avoid the grip of the Empire as long as it had, but that would not last forever. Others would come, that much was certain...
Consigned to the fact that sleep was going to elude him for yet another night, Vegeta rose, careful to keep the woman from stirring. While on the one hand, he cursed himself for his softness in considering her feelings in the matter, Vegeta justified it to himself in that she would only badger him into insanity if she were awake and seeing him about at this hour.
Walking past the residence quarters of the Capsule Corporation building, Vegeta walked out, into the late summer night. The Terran season of Autumn would be here soon, which suited him just fine. All this greenery and life... too extravagant. Only one thing could clear his mind when it got into these fits of introspective thought...
Stepping into the Gravity Room, Vegeta set it for his normal level of 450g. Of course, the apparent mass would take time to ramp up, like most high energy devices, the Room needed to charge up first, the gravity building slowly over several minutes.
It truly was an extraordinary accomplishment, the Gravity Room. These devices had existed in Frieza's army, but they worked on a principle of generating brute gravity, which affected everything in the room. As a result, you could only go so high before the pressure would cause the surrounding air to condense and liquify, so only warriors with no need for oxygen (like Frieza) could use them. Vegeta was no scientist, but he understood enough to know that Dr. Briefs (and to some extent his daughter, Bulma) thought a little... differently from the minds in Frieza's think tanks.
Dr. Brief's Gravity room was selective in which objects the monstrous forces would apply. Early versions would only affect the weight of solid objects, like the one Kakarrot used on his way to Namek. Later revisions would only affect the training participants, allowing for less energy consumption overall, and, more importantly, for things like gravitational collapse and liquid air to be a nonissue for those training inside. The only concern was being able to stand and move inside of the room without your body giving out in the process...
Doing basic exercises to warm up, Vegeta considered a little more. Better Gravity Rooms, time machines, and the namesake Capsules... While their overall technology was still primitive, they were going in some interesting directions with it. A few more generations, and they could very well take on Frieza's army should it ever find this place. Vegeta chuckled lightly under his breath. Perhaps things weren't so bad for his adoptive home, after all...
He didn't think much for a while after that, losing himself into the training, he transformed into the Super Saiyan mode, at last free from distractions for a while, at least...
* * *
He crashed out of his transformation suddenly, without warning. Vegeta, caught completely unawares, fell hard into the floor of the gravity room, over 40 tons heavy. The abrupt change, combined with the graceless fall, almost caused him to pass out from the shock. Raising to his knees, he called out "Off!", activating the voice sensor, and, as a result, cutting off the focused gravitational field.
He surveyed himself. Other than bruises and what felt like a sore jaw from his awkward fall, Vegeta felt fine. At least physically. He closed his eyes, focusing inward, on his energy. Something was wrong. Something was off. He had no explanation for it, though. Concentrating, Vegeta brought his power up, trying to transform into the legendary Super Saiyan form.
He felt the energy consume him, saw the light from his aura, but it was difficult--hard to sustain. This was much harder than it should have been, Vegeta thought, concern beginning to fill his mind. Distracted, he fell out of the form again. This is not good, thought the Prince of all Saiyans. Looking back at the Capsule Corp. building, Vegeta thought about rousing the woman to find some answers to this. He quickly dismissed the notion as futile, though. Even after all these years of his residence on Earth, human science knew little about Saiyan physiology. Of course, Bulma and her father were mechanical engineers, not biologists... What would they know, anyway?
He was in the air heading southeast before he had consciously decided where to go. He needed to see Kakarott, posthaste. If one were to ask him, Vegeta would be hard pressed to come up with a good reason for why he was going there of all places. Kakarott was an imbecile, and knew even less about the Saiyans than he did. All the same, he was the only person Vegeta felt comfortable bringing this disturbing development to. Keeping low to the ground, just in case any other unwelcome surprises decided to appear, he continued on, uncertainty on his mind...
Author's note: What do you know? I finally get to a plot point... Here's hoping that I can be more frequent with the updates, now... Remember, good readers always review, even if they don't have much to say. Thanks for reading!