Chapter 8- Better and Better
The football game had ended around nine, and since Vegeta didn't have to go to work until twelve, he had a couple free hours.
Vegeta would've gone home to either start on his report or sleep, but somehow Goku had persuaded him to go to a victory party.
He had only stayed at the party for two hours. After that, he'd gone home, showered, got something to eat, and went to work.
With weekends being the busiest nights of the week, there were quite a few people to bounce.
By the time his shift was over, he was basically asleep on his feet. The walk home seemed like it took forever.
When he finally got home, he kicked off his shoes, got slowly undressed, and fell into bed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The one know as Rehtaf was pretty damn happy.
Not only was he able to freak Vegeta out, but he now had the perfect plan of how to kill him.
After Vegeta had saw him, he had left the stadium and waited in his car in the parking lot for the game to end. When that happened, he had followed Vegeta to some kind of party. He had hated to see the boy having so much fun while he was so tormented. He wanted more than anything to slit his throat right then and there.
But he couldn't. That would go against his plan. And what a great plan it was.
After only a little while, he watched as Vegeta left the party. He followed him to what he figured was his apartment, and then to a bar called Gee's.
He noticed that Vegeta seemed to be very tired, by the way he dragged his feet when he walked. That, would make him even easier to kill. He was basically not aware of anything, even the man that had followed him around all night. His movements were slow, so it would be hard for him to defend himself, too.
Things were getting better and better.
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Vegeta woke up, for once without the annoying alarm clock, around noon. He figured that now was the best time as ever to do that stupid report, and so got to work.
He hadn't even bothered to shower or even out on some clothes besides the boxers that he slept in.
Normally, he wouldn't have cared how quality the report was, but now, since his scholarship was riding on his grades, he figured it would be best to put in some effort.
Vegeta sometimes thought how funny fate could be.
This was one of those times.
At age four, his mother had 'died' from circumstances he did not like to think about, and his father was nowhere to be seen, thank Dende for that. He was taken in by a foster family shortly after. Then, about a half a year later, the foster family divorced. Since neither of the people were actually his parents, neither could have custody.
Because of this, Vegeta was forced into an orphanage. He didn't stay in there for long. Only after a few weeks in the orphanage, he met Zachary. Zachary had instantly taken a liking to the kid and had come in claiming to be his uncle and then unofficially adopted him.
He lived with him for about nine years up until Zachary was killed. None the less, he was still allowed to live in the apartment under the condition that he paid the rent. I order to pay the aforementioned rent he took a job at Gee's. Since he had already known Gee from when Zachary had worked there, he had gotten a job despite only being fourteen.
He had worked there from then on and went to school at Kennedy High. One of his PE coaches had spotted his talent for football and asked him to try out. Vegeta thought that it would be interesting to try, despite his lack of time, and had done so. Well of course he made the team. He played so well that in the 11th grade (the year before) he had gotten a scholarship to play at Northern. Northern was one of the top ten universities in the world. Now, he was 'bustin his butt' as they say just to keep that scholarship.
Vegeta, because of his harsh upbringing, was pretty much a loner. He didn't really like people, nor did he trust them. There were only a few people that he trusted now: Gee, Thomas, Chuckie, and Sid, all of whom worked at Gee's, Goku, and his newest addition, Mr. Kozaku.
Vegeta didn't know why he seemed to trust Mr. Kozaku after only knowing him for a week. He guessed it was because he was one of the only people who didn't like him just for his looks or for being star football player. No Mr. Kozaku was different. Instead of not really caring about what happened to him as a person, and only thinking he was a popularity object like most other people, or constantly degrading him like Mr. Dilloir, Mr. Kozaku actually seemed to care.
That or he's a good actor. Vegeta thought with a hmph and started to type his report.
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In an old run-down house at the edges of West City, Rehtaf was lecturing Locke and Shadow.
"For the past few days, he's been going to a bar called Gee's. I haven't gone in to actually see what he does in there. He would recognize me. That is why you two will go. But remember: don't do anything to him. Just watch him and don't make it obvious.
"Remember what he does and then report back to me. I want to know everything. If he drinks, tell me what it is he's drinking and how much. If he fucks somebody I want to know who and how long. You got it?"
"Got it." Shadow confirmed.
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After six and a half hours, Vegeta finally finished his report.
Of course when trying to think of any time when he had listened to an adult or respected them, he had come up with nothing. He couldn't write about Gee or anyone else that worked at Gee's because, well they worked at a bar. And while he could find nothing wrong with that, Mr. Dilloir surely would. He couldn't write about Mr. Kozaku either because he had just met the guy. He had, of course, respected his mother. But she had died so long ago, he couldn't remember her or anything about her. Therefore, he dug back into his memory and recalled some lectures that teachers and such had given him throughout the years.
In his opinion it was a big load of bullshit.
He wrote it anyway, though, and then checked it for spelling, grammar and such.
He was actually surprised that he had been lectured that many times. He wasn't a bad kid...was he? No. He was just honest.
'People don't like honesty when it shows their faults.' He had learned that a long time ago.
What had surprised him even more was that he had more than 10,000 words in his report and they were all from those lectures. He had just typed the words that his memory produced.
Saving the report and then printing it, he turned to look at the clock. Already six thirty. Being that he had to be at work for eight, he figured he could sleep for an hour and still be on time.
Setting his alarm clock, he flopped back into bed.