Big Black Hearse
Vegeta: Ooooo you're gonna start titling chapters now? A little late for that!
VC: Get back to your own story!
Danny stared gloomily out the window of the long, sleek black limousine that Vlad had had driven promptly to the Fenton home shortly after making reservations at the Japanese restaurant they'd agreed to eat, not at all surprising Danny but annoying him nonetheless. He thought this was partially to do with his unchanging disgust at Vlad's riches, or perhaps it was disgust at Vlad himself—no, Vlad's attitude. The way he thought money could buy everything. How he thought it somehow made him so much better than everyone else when he really didn't have anything enviable—sure, he had a fancy castle and rode around in limos, but he didn't have a wife or kids or anyone to take to bed at night. No love at all. But what Danny most resented was the simply fact that Vlad even had the audacity to bring this limo here and expect Danny to get in it so the paid driver could take them out to dinner; it seemed to be Vlad's way of easing—although it should not be worded like such, for easing he was not—Danny into the lifestyle of the rich and famous.
It was as if Vlad was, by bringing this luxury vehicle into Amity Park, so blatantly saying that he had moved up in the world; that he was no longer some redneck hick from some small town no one knew existed and that was barely visible on a map. No one in Amity owned a limo. The mayor did, although Danny always thought it could not really be called a limo. Limo, he decided, did not mean a black compact car where you always had a buddy with you to take you where you wanted so you never had to drive—that was the mayor's definition of "limo". But this thing was a full-blown hearse, at least, that was what it reminded him of, and maybe that was also why he resented it, given the circumstances. But he knew it was more than that. He almost felt embarrassed being seen in it—it was almost like him saying to all the people he passed on the streets, "Look, look, my family might be dead, but I came out of it, and, damn, I came out on top. I'm riding out of this hick town in a freakin' black limo and, hell, I might have lost my family, but look at me now, Dash, check me out now, Paulina, bitch! I'm set!"
And he certainly felt as if he was saying this to all of them by riding in this limo, and he could see that it did to the people he passed, too. He could see it in their faces, that disbelief. And he knew what they were thinking, for it was all too obvious, in their eyes, conspicuous: yes, go enjoy the club while the coroner examines the remains of your family and friends, party it up and I bet you're happy they're dead, now you can go off with your rich uncle, now you don't have to stay in this hick town where you were so obviously an outsider, you really have no reason to stay here now anyway, so go where you think you belong and, the most hurtful yet because it was "uttered" with—almost— compassion rather than hostility, do you even care about them? do you even care that your family is dead?
And he could not look at those faces, but he could not look at Vlad either, who sat directly across from him in the rather large limo. Danny had bitterly noted that Vlad had arrived in a taxi, and that meant he was perfectly capable of bringing that taxi back. Instead, he brought this big black hearse, and Danny wondered if it was simply to spite him. Though he knew something in Vlad had changed—and for the better—Danny was still unable to overlook that evil side of Vlad—the side that now burrowed deeply beneath his skin but had previously exhibited itself like a painter showing off his artwork that was as old as time but well loved. The truth was, he could not forget what Vlad had done and he would never be able to. He might be able to establish a relationship with Vlad, one that was positive and healthy, but that did not mean that he would not, it fits of anger or sadness at Vlad, remember all of the things he had done to hurt him physically and emotionally. He thought it was one of these times now; he was upset at seeing the town again, because the town seemed to frown at him, and he wanted to make that Vlad's fault and not his, because that was so easy, and he knew it. He knew that Vlad had only gotten the limo as an act of kindness, probably thinking it was no big deal and that he would enjoy it, and maybe that it would even cheer him up. And maybe it did. But he had let down this town. He alone. Not an upscale limo, not a well-dressed upper-class high-society man in his forties, him. And he felt their eyes glaring at him even though the windows were tinted, and he tried to convince himself that they did not scoff at his failure. It was easier, safer to assume they envied this limo, and even though he knew it was wrong, and Vlad did not deserve that, that was what he decided.
They hated the limo.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Vlad watched as Danny opened the door himself, got out, and slammed it, chipping the paint. The driver looked astonished and frightened as he regarded the car door and then turned to watch as Danny stormed into the Japanese restaurant, Heiwa Shokudo—"Peaceful Dining".
A/N: So, yes, I'm aware that Heiwa Shokudo is a real restaurant, but the name was so perfect I had to use it...you'll understand why in the next few chapters. I'm sorry about the shortness, the abruptness, and the rather entoxicated quality this chapter has...I will do better next time. Ps, thank you for all the reviews, I love them and appreciate them, and I WILL thank every last one of you who reviews this time...promise! So, please let me know what you think, and I promise I will start updating regularly again.
~VC
Vegeta: Why do you do that squiggly line thing?
VC: It looks like the river I'm going to drown myself in -_-