#Panchi was placed in a Perfect Dream world and their challenge was to find what was wrong with it/to snap out of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-ash0 · 5 years

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surviving paradise chapter 7

Time

I stare at the sky as I sit, plucking at grass in the Capsule Corp front garden. It is small compared to the back one, so staying here provides me a measure of privacy. Though the Nameks fear me, they need their fresh air too, I suppose. So I have left the back gardens free for them, lest I run into any by mistake. I am trying hard enough as it is not to start trouble.

Today marks the first full week of my stay here on earth, but already my patience is running thin. I have not left Capsule Corp grounds since that first day at the bar. On one hand, I hardly feel like subjecting myself to another degrading episode due to my… inexperience with this world and its customs. On the other, everything I could ever want or need is provided for me right here; right here at my fingertips.

Which is exactly as it should be, of course. I am a prince, after all. And the greatest warrior in the galaxy, now that Frieza and Kakarot have managed to kill each other off. Which is fine; clever, in a way. To get rid of both in this manner. Yep, life is absolutely fucking perfect.

So why do I feel so... tired?

It must be the routine of this place. The days on this planet are too short to suit me. Though I suppose the schedule I followed in my previous life —a cycle of travel in cryo-sleep for months up to years, a purge mission or two lasting a few days, then back in cryo-sleep for a debriefing and an optional few days to restart the process— doesn't really qualify as a rhythm.

Still, the monotone repetition wears on my nerves. I know I should try and adjust; rise and retire with the sun. Yet I spend more time staring at my bedroom ceiling than dreaming, and the morning light does little to rouse me into action. I feel strange: weak without any damage taken. Exhausted without wanting sleep. Numb...

I reach out for another hand of grass to pull up, but find the semicircle around me cropped to the point that I need to dig up roots. I contemplate moving to another spot to restart the process, though picking myself up seems like so much work for nothing.

Why bother at all? I could pluck the whole field bare or move around and make ugly bare circles in the perfectly cut grass. What would that achieve? Well, maybe someone would take offence. I could use someone to scream at, or have scream at me, or talk to... Anything.

A sound from behind brings me back to my senses. I take it back; I really do not wish any form of interaction, and definitely not with the locals.

The grey-haired professor, apparently the man of the house, appears from the door and makes his way towards me with purpose. I groan. The old dolt had stayed clear of me mostly until now, and I had thought him the smartest of the pack for that. Perhaps I was wrong.

He walks into my periphery and clears his throat, pets the weird black creature perched on his shoulder, then stares down at me as if expecting something.

As soon as I realize what he wants, I deign not to give it. Instead, I focus my attention on the clouds overhead. There’s only a few of them, of course. Even the weather on Earth is perfect. Perfect, constant, monotone and boring. Sadly, my studious inattention is not enough to deter old four-eyes from intruding.

The grey human sighs, fidgeting in his pocket for something before sitting down. A decent distance away, but facing the same direction with an unfounded air of camaraderie. The crunch-creak of metal on a lighting stone finally breaks my resolve. “If you dare light that stinking filth in my breathing air I’ll rip your throat out.”

The man blinks at me and puts his lighter away with an apologetic smile, studying the white twig in his other hand as if unsure what to do with it. “Panchy asked me to fetch you,” he offers as appeasement. “Lunch is served.”

Blasted woman and her blasted food.

“Well, she could have just said so herself, could she not?” I grind out, “besides, do you always run to do your woman’s bidding?”

I turn from his blinking four-eyed stare and recline with a sigh. Pathetic as this planet’s gravity is, I am not up to fighting it. “Besides, I am not hungry.”

“And there it is too,” his old voice turns sure, as if I just proved some point. Opting to leave the unlit cigarette in mouth, he frowns down at me. “In answer to your question, Panchy hardly ever asks for anything. So when she does, I do run, even when I do not understand.”

I take a deep breath. “Your wife is a degenerate airhead whose only purpose would be to exemplify the useless stupidity of this planet and its main species!”

To my surprise the man laughs —laughs!— at my comments.

“She does seem like an airhead doesn’t she? Here on Earth, especially in my generation, too much intelligence in a woman was frowned upon; just as my little girl likes to play the damsel in distress, she likes to play airhead.” The man lowers his voice, and I perk up as I finally hear a threatening undertone: “But I would think that a man such as yourself knows not to take all at face value?”

I, the Prince of all Saiyans, snarl and turn on him. “I do not care for you, your planet, or any of your ridiculous mating customs. In fact, I think I’ll blow this whole planet up, right now! And there’s not a damn thing you or anyone here can do about it.”

The old man stares at me intently, before nodding and adjusting his glasses. “Is that what is bothering you?”

“NO!” Yes? Maybe? I deflate, what little energy I had gone again too soon. This man is supposed to be the richest in the world... Can’t he at least get the military to fight me? Maybe if I just blow him and his precious Capsule Corp to pieces, someone worthy will show. Probably. Possibly.

Kakarot’s idiot friends might provide me some challenge, but the old coot just gives me a goofy grin. Unworried. Whatever. Military or stupid Z-gang, no one on this planet is worth my trouble. I can hardly make myself care if they win or lose. I lay back down, place an arm over my eyes, and repeat: “I’m not hungry.”

The old man sucks in his breath, like I had said I was dying or something, then gets up and leaves.

Finally, some peace.

Or as close as I am able to get to it.

I find myself wondering if death would have brought true peace. I was dead before, right? But all I can remember from that time is my fervent, all encompassing wish that someone— preferably Kakarot— kill that filthy Lizard.

I had not wanted to leave and had clung to that battle with all I had. The memories are garbled after death, but I think I still spoke to my fellow Saiyan. Maybe I might have had peace after that. That would have been nice.

Sadly, peace appears to be the one thing not available in this place. I recognise the crunch-step of feet on gravel, and have to stifle a groan. No torture that Hell could have dreamt up would have been as annoying and maddening as this constant string of visitors. It is the blue-haired young woman this time; the old coot’s spawn. Her voice sounds suspiciously friendly and chipper.

“Vegeta? Vegeta dear, will you come and have a look at what I’m fixing?”

I don't care. “Did your father send you?”

She answers a little too fast: “No!”

I can't help but bark a mirthless laugh. Well, I can teach her a thing or two about lying. “Sorry, I am busy.”

Her unamused drawl suggests she is not that stupid, though. “I think you’ve mowed our lawn enough for a while, don't you?”

I move the arm still covering my eyes slightly so I can squint up at her. She stands over me, hands on hips, all wide open eyes and bare shoulders. Her hair is up in a bun, strands fall past her face as she bends over me. She wears a thin-strapped top over only marginally more practical pants. Yellow working gloves on her fists, an eyeshield dangling from one like an accessory. If not for the dark smudge by her nose, she’d resemble one of those girls on the square movie frame her mother likes to watch.

I can't decide if I’m more offended that she would approach me with so much bare skin to burn off, or that she can’t even be bothered to clean herself up before addressing royalty. Instead of letting my irritation show, I smirk and roll to my side, away from her. “I don't do manual labor. I’m relaxing. And as I can't manage to care about your silly projects, just run along.”

If I was hoping to bait her, I am disappointed. She stretches her arms over head as she straightens, and hums to herself, putting a gloved hand to her cheek. “That is a shame. I had thought to outdo my father’s machine. You know, the one that made Goku’s transition to Super Saiyan possible. But without a Saiyan to test it, I can hardly prove to father I’ve won our bet. Perhaps I should let Yamcha use it instead. Or Krillin. He’s pretty strong. Perhaps he could be super-human. Who knows…?” She trails off and smiles at me triumphantly.

At some point during her speech, I have sat up to scowl at her, but she sees right through my anger to the awakened hunger beneath.“I don't suppose you could just relax inside the spaceship for a while? I kind of need to test the gravity settings before I call this one safe for use, but poor little me will get squashed by anything beyond the 3 ½ setting…”

“Fah! Weak as you are, you’ll probably die at twice Earth's gravity.” Not to mention what would happen at, say, ten times Earth's gravity. But for me, that would be like coming home. Was this Kakarot’s secret to achieving such power?

Kakarot... As I straighten and cross my legs, I cannot help but think of our first battle. Now, that was a fight. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Well, at least up to the point where his bloody friends intervened and cut off my tail. They just have no sense of propriety. But before his friends intervened...I grin at my boots. I was winning, right? Our fight is not yet finished; perhaps a rematch is in order.

Yes, a rematch. The third-class may be dead, but here on this magic little mud-ball called Earth that does not seem to be a problem. And before Namek, before his special training, he was weak compared to me, so… if I use the same methods he did, should I not be able to surpass him? After all, I am the one meant to be a Super Saiyan. Everyone always said so. I effortlessly stand, my attention on my fist as I ball it slowly and remember what I am. Who I am..

“No, no.” The woman’s voice pulls me back to the present, turning as she shakes her head. “The science is in on this. I should be able to take up to 6 gees easily, but I won't be able to stand after 3, 3 ½ tops. That’s useless for my tests though. Father’s machine went up to 100 times Earth’s gee. Mine, once tested, should be able to generate 200 gees! Oh dear,” she walks off pensively, “do you think that might be too much?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I have to run after her to catch up. “You couldn’t build something to hurt me if you tried.”

#surviving paradise #vegeta #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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