Human Hospitality

by pureleaf

Chapter 21

Night in Station 6, part 2

After his dinner, Vegeta returned to the hotel on foot and went to bed in very short time. He slept six dreamless hours and awoke to find the glittering city in the deep of its famously long night. If he recalled correctly, the sun would not rise again for at least another eight to ten hours, and the Saiyan's lips curled into a crooked grin when he recognized that this gave him a great opportunity to catch people off-guard and gather information.

For two hours, the Saiyan lingered in his hotel room, sprawled out across a three seat sofa with his gaze fixed on the city outside his window. He opened a bottle of expensive sparkling wine and drank all of it, reasoning that he was lowering his risk of experiencing a bout of anxiety in a crowded nightclub by being under the influence of alcohol.

Double-checking his armour to confirm he still had everything he'd taken into the city, Vegeta left his room for the last time and went to the lobby to check out.

"Leaving so soon, Sir?" The familiar man was back behind the check-in desk and gave the Saiyan an odd, nervous smile.

"Been here long enough," Vegeta sneered, "I just wanted to sleep a while."

"You'll still be charged for the full night, Sir."

"Yeah, that's fine," Vegeta lazily scrawled something resembling his signature using a stylus and tablet when prompted, "I know how hotels work."

Jabuka thought his heart would pound right out of his chest when he heard Vegeta's husky voice through the audio archive in his scouter. At one point during their chance meeting, he'd taken off his own scouter and deposited it into an empty booth, foolishly leaving himself open to a sneak attack.

"He really is alive... but why didn't he kill me?" Jabuka questioned aloud, desperate to piece together his lost night in the hopes it would give him an idea of where Vegeta had headed next.

The scouter's incoming communication signal chirped cheerfully in his ear and Jabuka accepted. "This is Jabuka speaking."

"Jabuka! Boy, am I glad to finally get through to you! I need you to head over to Station 6 for a pick up. There's a box of micro-processors I ordered from a manufacturer there and they're finally ready. Package number is six-eight-three-nine-one, and you can consider this a medium security delivery. Understand?" The rumbling, tired voice belonging to a respected mechanic was uncomfortably loud in Jabuka's ear, but he listened and accepted the assignment without complaint.

"Station 6, hmm? Very popular destination... perhaps I'll be able to track down a certain friend there!"

Jabuka wasted no time in throwing a few essential items into a pack before locking up his apartment and heading to the docking bay for his pod.

Vegeta made his way down the busy streets and ignored the obnoxious club promoters who tried to shove advertisements and complimentary drink tickets in his face. Consumed in his thoughts, he was soon wandering aimlessly.

Just where the hell did Kakkarot go? How did he even escape from Namek? Did he manage to get Frieza's ship up and running in time? Or did he find an alternate means of escape on another ship? Maybe he took a pod belonging to a member of the Ginyu force... I don't recall them being damaged or destroyed during my encounter with them... god damn, I won't be missing those morons... but does Kakkarot even know how to operate a pod? Oh fuck, what if the coordinates were already set in the pod's computer and he just went into stasis? Kakkarot is a moron, but even he could figure out how to operate a PTO travel pod. What if he's travelling now? What if Namek was simply a quick stop for the Ginyus? Surely they must have been headed somewhere else... Frieza gives them their assignments well in advance... what if the Ginyus were headed to a planet where the inhabitants possessed special powers? What if Kakkarot is learning new techniques from these people? Ugh, how could I possibly keep up with Kakkarot when I don't even know where he is?

He started to feel sick to his stomach.

What if I never find him? What if this mission is pointless and I'm just wasting my time? Did I even make the right decision by leaving Earth? Perhaps I should have remained there and should have taken the ship to an isolated area instead... but I cannot return now! I cannot even think of returning to those people until I at least get some solid information about the Ginyus and their assignments!

Now, with whom would I speak regarding the Ginyus and their assignments? Such sensitive information would only be known to some high-ranking soldiers or the most skilled communications personnel... oh, this might be hopeless! How am I to advance if I can only obtain information through gossip and hearsay?

The Saiyan ducked into a dark alleyway, his stomach clenching from anxiety and his skin clammy underneath his uniform.

Don't do this, Vegeta. Don't freak out or let some anxiety take over. Get it together, damn it!

He breathed in for five counts, held another five, and exhaled for ten counts. Vegeta forced himself to repeat this breathing until his heart had slowed to its normal rate and he didn't feel like vomiting any longer.

The Saiyan returned to the crowded sidewalk and soon arrived at SixBlue, an upscale club catering to the elite and very wealthy. Vegeta sighed when he spotted the line-up and marched to the front of the line and looked the tall, powerfully built doorman with blue skin up and down.

"You look like a tough guy," Vegeta sided up to the doorman and smirked at him, "I bet you can fight."

The doorman rolled his eyes. "Sure I can fight, but your compliments won't get you in the club. The only way you's gettin in is if you knock me out cold, an' I don' see that happenin'. Back of the line, buddy!"

"Then I challenge you to a fight. If I win, you let me in," spat the Saiyan, shifting into a fighting stance, "but if I lose, I'll leave quietly."

The doorman laughed and looked down his wide, crooked nose at Vegeta. "You wanna fight, little guy? Sure!" He swung a massive, heavy arm at Vegeta but missed. The Saiyan sprung up eight feet into the air and landed on the doorman's shoulders and brought his clenched hands down onto the doorman's skull. He landed on the pavement in a heap and Vegeta landed gracefully beside the unconscious doorman.

"Looks like I get in tonight!" Vegeta hopped over the velvet rope and headed inside.

SixBlue was crowded, ostentatious, overpriced, and featured satin hangings the colour of sapphire on the walls and a clear blue dance floor that was lit from underneath using soft light that alternated between pink, green, yellow, and blue. The bar was designed to appear as though it had been made from diamonds and clear crystals hung from the mirrored ceiling.

Vegeta ordered a glass of fruit liqueur and held it close to his chest as he made his way through the throngs of people and upstairs to the booths. He scanned the patrons and hoped he'd recognize somebody that could provide him with information.

The Saiyan did not expect to find himself quickly surrounded by a trio of soldiers he vaguely recalled working with eight or ten years earlier. They were high ranking soldiers; members of a purge team that Vegeta and his two Saiyan comrades had joined forces with for a few missions. It had been a typical working relationship: Vegeta kept his distance, but he took his work seriously and was reliable.

He felt embarrassed when he couldn't recall their names.

"Well, well, the prince of all Saiyans is alive and well!" A stocky humanoid with white skin and hair the colour of moss gave him a playful cuff on the shoulder and reintroduced himself: "Do you remember me? I'm Nile."

One of the soldiers to Nile's left was tall, lean, and had copper skin and short silver hair. The other, standing at Nile's right, only came up to Vegeta's chin and had a thick mane of brown hair and narrow, shifty eyes. Neither of them offered any greeting to the Saiyan and seemed to look right through him.

"Nile, yeah! We did some purges together, right? It's certainly been a while. How are you?" Vegeta returned the gesture with a closed fist and slightly more force, subtly warning his acquaintance that he was ready and willing to fight.

"You want to come to our booth, Vegeta? We're ordering bottles and were planning to hang out here for a while."

The Saiyan shrugged and followed them. They had six different bottles of liquor at their table, set in silver buckets filled with ice. He felt uneasy when Nile's silent partners took their seats beside Vegeta, effectively closing him in the booth.

Nile cracked the seal on an icy bottle of fruit liqueur and offered Vegeta a glass. The Saiyan accepted. Next, Nile poured glasses of liqueur for his partners, and finally a glass for himself.

"Cheers, Vegeta. Good to see you again," Nile bowed his head as a sign of respect to Vegeta and raised his glass.

"What's with your partners, Nile? I can't recall ever working with a pair of mutes!" Vegeta sneered, raised his glass, and took a small sip of his liqueur.

"Ah, don't mind them, Vegeta. Bobica- the tall one on your left, and Sladak- the tiny guy on your right, never speak unless specifically instructed to. Speaking of partners, Vegeta... where are Raditz and Nappa? Surely those two are still working with you?"

Another sip of liqueur. "Both dead. Raditz died in combat while Nappa suffered a terrible spinal injury and had to be dispatched. Lost both of them within a year... but enough about that, Nile- are you still doing purges? You were an efficient partner, if I do say so myself."

"Your compliment is much appreciated, Vegeta," Nile toasted the Saiyan again with a dark smile flickering across his face, "but we've moved into much more interesting work. These days we're picking up special assignments... sometimes we do diplomacy, other times we're elite hit-men. The work pays very handsomely and we're always traveling somewhere interesting. The only men that may be a league above ours are the Ginyus. So, my friend, what have you been up to? Still purging, I bet..."

Vegeta mirrored Nile's smile and slowly shook his head. "Purging? You could say I am, Nile. You wouldn't happen to know where the Ginyus were headed, would you?"

The one called Bobica growled deep in his chest and Nile raised his hand in warning. "Enough, Bobica," he studied Vegeta's face before quickly shrugging his broad shoulders, "unfortunately I am not privy to the whereabouts or plans of the Ginyu force."

"Damn!" Snarled Vegeta, slamming his drink on the table, "and now they're all dead! I'm never going to get anywhere like this!"

Nile's face seemed to grow even paler in the overwhelmingly blue light and he stared at Vegeta in horror. "H-how would you know that, Vegeta?"

"Because I'm the one who killed them!" Vegeta leaned back in the booth, raised his glass in mock toast, and realized too late that Nile had motioned his partners to attack Vegeta as he took a sip of alcohol.

The silent guards carried thin, sharp blades and the Saiyan realized he was being attacked as the one on his left took a swipe at his ribcage while the one on his right plunged a blade into his upper thigh, withdrew, and stabbed him again. Howling in pain, Vegeta fired a white-hot blast of energy at the one called Bobica before whipping around to pull the blade out of his leg before plunging it into Sladak's throat and pulling it down towards his collarbone

Heart pounding, Vegeta kicked the table forward and pinned Nile in his seat. The Saiyan leaned forward and shot another powerful wave of energy, his palm less than an inch from Nile's face. When it was over two seconds later, Nile's face had been completely burned away.

The huge crowd on the dance floor noticed the commotion upstairs and screams started to reverberate through the space. Vegeta watched as soldiers and patrons began to rush towards him, seemingly in slow motion, before he felt hot blood soaking his clothing and snapped back into real time. The Saiyan fired several blasts of energy to keep the crowd at bay and rushed out the fire exit at the other end of the upper-floor space.

Rickety steel fire escape groaning underneath the Saiyan's weight, Vegeta took enough time to recognize and acknowledge that he was injured and needed to take care of himself as soon as possible before he took off into the night and flew back to his ship.

Blood oozing through his clothes at an alarming rate, Vegeta flew back to his ship as quickly as he could manage, fighting to keep his body straight, the pain from the stab wounds bordering on excruciating.

"Fuck, why did I have to land one hundred and fifty kilometers away from the city? I'm an idiot! Why didn't I consider the possibility of being injured? Fuck!"

He stopped flying, nausea overpowering him, and let himself sink to the ground before he doubled over and vomited. At least there isn't blood in my sick, he thought, and I'll take any positive signs I can get right now.

It took almost an hour to get back to the ship, his boots more red than white and his face very pale by the time he got there. He crawled up the steps, dragged himself into the pilot's seat and simply launched himself into space with no destination in mind.

I need to act now before this gets worse, he told himself, and he forced himself to keep moving. He went downstairs and grabbed a large bottle of water off the counter and staggered into the bathroom. He took the first-aid kit he'd stolen from Jabuka and opened it, smiling when he found a wrapped package of crystallized drink mix designed for mammalian life forms who had lost blood. It tasted horrible, but Vegeta had used it before and knew it could help keep him conscious and somewhat stable.

Sitting on the toilet, his hands trembling, Vegeta tore a corner of the package open and let it dribble into the bottle, squeezing it between his thighs so as not to drop it.

After a few cautious sips to ensure he would not vomit, Vegeta was convinced he could take care of himself and took a pair of surgical scissors to his clothing. He pulled off his boots and several tablespoons worth of blood dribbled out. Blood spattered across the floor and walls as he tossed his clothing into a corner and continued to undress.

"And I just got this..." he lamented, pulling the leggings free from his injured legs and snarling when he saw the damage dealt by the soldiers he'd fought.

It took five minutes to wiggle out of the armour, a folded dry washcloth placed between his teeth to stifle his own agonized howls. He forced himself into the shower to rinse off and check his wounds. The stab wounds to the thighs were the deepest and continued to ooze blood, while the wounds to his sides were more like deep scratches and the bleeding had already started to slow there.

Inside the first-aid kit supplied by Bulma, the Saiyan found large and small bandages alike, surgical tape, iodine and alcohol swabs, and thick tensor bandages. He laid a fresh towel on the floor, sat down with his legs extended, and tended to the wounds on his thighs first. He took the vial of local anaesthetic from Jabuka's first aid kit, drew some of the liquid into a fresh syringe, and gingerly injected the drug into the swollen flesh surrounding the wounds. Grateful for the freezing, Vegeta cleaned his wounds a second time and dribbled a thick healing serum inside the wounds before bandaging them and wrapping the area with a length of tensor bandage.

The wounds on his sides took more time, but only required a very thorough cleaning, careful bandaging, and a final layer of tensor bandage from his ribcage to his hips.

Rather pleased with his work, Vegeta took his drink back to his sleeping area and eased himself onto the mattress. He wrapped himself in a blanket and stared ahead into nothing for a very long time, only taking the occasional sip from the restorative drink he'd prepared before anything else.

After an hour, he returned to the washroom and took the vials out of his damaged armour. He found the painkillers and took two tablets. Feeling somewhat stable, Vegeta finally looked at the bloodied tiles, shower, toilet, clothing, and struggled not to gag at the smell.

He managed to wiggle into a pair of loose shorts and a light long-sleeve shirt and went back to bed. Paranoid, the Saiyan convinced himself that he needed to stay awake in order to monitor his status.

You've lost blood and took strong painkillers. Stay alert! Don't screw this up!

After forty minutes and close to two pints of his recovery drink, Vegeta finally passed out.

"INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL..."

Vegeta's eyes cracked open and he winced at the bright light. "Ignore..." he muttered, drawing the covers over his face.

An hour later, he woke up again and slowly sat up in bed. "Ugh..." he shuffled into the kitchen and found a package of cereal, took a seat at the small table and began to eat it dry.

"INCOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOMING VIDEO CALL..."

"Ignore!" He barked through a mouthful of cereal.

Twenty minutes passed in dead silence. He ate slowly and marvelled at how stagnant his train of thought had become since his debauched night had started the minute he checked into the hotel in Station 6.

"ICOMING VIDEO CALL... INCOM-"

"Damn it! What do these people want?! Fine! Accept!"

A screen appeared from behind a hidden wall panel. Bulma's image flickered on the screen, and the first thing Vegeta noticed was how tired she appeared. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What the fuck do you want?!" He snarled, upper lip curled tightly enough to reveal his gums.

She continued to stare at him with her face frozen in horror.

"Is something wrong?" He asked her, one thick brow rising.

"You look terrible. What did you do?!"

The Saiyan unconsciously rubbed his cheek and felt something flaking off his skin. "Losing a half litre or so of blood tends to do that," he pushed the box of cereal aside, "but I took care of my injuries. Don't worry about me, Bulma."

"Oh, my god... what happened?"

"Got stabbed about six times, mostly to the thighs. I took care of myself and will search for medical care if I require it."

Bulma seemed to freeze again for at least ten seconds. She shook her head with disapproval and shrugged at him. "How did you manage to get stabbed? Just what exactly are you up to?"

The Saiyan growled and pulled the box of cereal into his lap. "That's my business! Quit bothering me all the time, bitch!"

"You prick! You should be grateful somebody would actually give a damn about your well-being!" Bulma snarled right back, her teeth bared and brows furrowed.

Vegeta smirked at her and tilted his head upward, silently challenging her argument and telling her that he didn't care about what she had to say. When Bulma mirrored his gesture, a spark of amusement and pride crackled in his gut. "I'll call you someday when I fucking well feel like it. Until then, don't bother me unless it's important!"

He disconnected and resumed eating his dry cereal.

To Be Continued