#i wasnt expecting it to happen LIKE THAT! fucking hell.. of course i was blindsided in tpn's case and even though our sunshine child didn't

[chidoroki]

If anyone is wondering, yes, I'm a complete sobbing mess right now.

[the-ash0]

surviving paradise ch 26 - loss

Lekus was dead.

They stood outside Frieza’s on-world throne room, the giant doors slammed on them after the shortest debriefing ever, and it just would not stick. His head throbbed with the attempt to find the logic in a timeline of completely unrelated events.

Lekus was dead. What had just happened?

The Saiyans had returned a day late. Just a day, but one day should have been enough for another epic prose session detailing their failure. Not to mention that Vegeta had expected another public debasement, another one of Zarbon’s great tales. He had also expected Frieza to reiterate its proposal where the tyrant implied that Vegeta was not cut out for command. That he shouldn’t bother with any delusions about being self-reliant; he should just sit at Frieza’s side from now on and wait on the Icejin’s orders before he acted.

He had been ready to accept the offer.

But none of that occurred. Frieza had given Zarbon one warning to ‘keep it short’, then still cut him off after less than a minute, dismissing his elite with a: “so, the mission was a success. Great” Next, the Icejin turned to the Saiyans and addressed the whole group in another out of character act. ”You’re all on stand-by until further notice. Well done.”

It wasn’t fucking well done. Vegeta was infinitely aware of that; aware that he’d finally and irrevocably messed up. Frieza should have sensed that. The lizard should have been well aware that any advantage the Prince had gained last time could have been taken back with interest in that very moment. Yet Frieza had acted distracted and absent-minded. So, apparently, any game they had been playing was already over.

Why had Frieza lost interest? Vegeta was nearly sure he could have just ordered his squad to turn around and go back after one look at that planet and their defences. That he could have reported to Frieza the job was impossible and he needed to send the Ginyus or something, and he’d still have gotten the same glowing review. Hell, in its present state of mind, Vegeta could have taken the squad on an intergalactic pleasure-cruise and the tyrant would still have complimented him on a good job and sent them on their way.

It didn’t make sense. Frieza was nothing if not perfect: immaculate, obsessed with cleanliness and time-tables, and devoted to micromanagement. For the lizard to just drop his modus operandi was unsettling. And Lekus? Lekus was dead, and it didn't even seem to matter.

Nobody gave a fuck. Not Frieza, not his Saiyans... No one. Couldn't they see? Couldn’t anyone see? Granted, Vegeta supposed he should not have expected the lizard emperor to care. But his own men, he had at least expected to be somewhat upset. Instead, they stood around outside the doors, clapping each other on the back in congratulations. An odd relief was expressed on their faces, any tension long gone. All his Saiyans, except for Raditz, who was still in the tanks because his wounds had worsened on the return trip despite cryo sleep. And Lekus...

Lekus was fucking dead, and Vegeta had just gotten congratulated on a job well done.  

“A celebration is in order!” Jack roared, as coarse and boisterous as ever.

Nappa guffawed right back. “Let’s get shit-faced drunk!”

Even Nion, who believed himself to be the voice of reason, laughed. “Drinking is called for.” He paused, then looked the prince's way with uncertainty. “Will you toast with us? In memory of Lekus?”

Why were they happy? Vegeta snarled, countering his own pounding head. “In Lekus’ memory? You fucks crazy?”

“My prince, please relax. We did well. We received a good review and some down time, finally. And he earned it for us, together with your outstanding tactics, of course. We should celebrate!”

Vegeta wasn’t really sure why that set him off. Nion was not smart enough for this level of sarcasm. Still, a ‘job well done’ was a bald-faced lie, and it lit the Prince’s face bring red as he screamed. “Fuck that dumb fuck for getting himself killed. And fuck you all!”

With a punch to Nion’s gut, Vegeta shoved the elder out of the way then growled a warning at the others. They stepped back, cowed. Still, the Saiyan teen felt suffocated. Smothered, like he was drowning. Outside; that’s what he needed. With an angry tread he took the fastest way out one of the ornate balconies, then pushed off and flew up into the white clouds overhead.

The air was frigid cold on his face, whipping in his ears so loud it hurt. But the cold, wet air calmed the rage and numbed his pounding head. After a little while, it felt good to just dive down and wind through the white-topped jagged peaks that covered most of the planet’s surface. Vegeta was not one to notice beauty, and he hated this planet too much to consider such a possibility. But the action was mildly entertaining, perhaps even enjoyable when done at a speed that made the curves a challenge.

When the novelty had worn off, Vegeta returned to the heights above the clouds, watching his long shadow in front of him in quiet contemplation. A prince should practice cold logic, even if his gut felt like it was on fire. Vegeta felt like that a lot lately, and he hoped it was an age thing. He was royalty, and only lower classes were supposed to be susceptible to bloodlust bad enough that they could not see past their own rage.

And looking at it now with a literal cooler head, he wondered why he had been angry at all. Vegeta had planned to downplay the loss. But he had been so sure he would have been called out on Lekus’ death, that when it did not happen it caught him off guard. In fact, Vegeta though he would have preferred it if someone had blamed him. It would have made it easier to brush off.

Yes; brushing it off had been what he had intended to do. Act casually. Drinking with the men would have been perfect for that. It's what commanders did. Probably. He’d just been blindsided by these fool reactions. And Frieza’s. Which worried him to his core.. But. No, he should have accepted the offer to go drinking.

It would not do to turn around and find his squad though. If Vegeta showed up now, someone might think he was apologizing for his earlier behavior. But he couldn’t keep flying like this indefinitely either. At the rate he was burning through his ki, even a Saiyan could not keep the cold at bay for much longer. The small sun was already half-hidden behind the jagged peaks, so it would be dark soon and colder still. Besides, he had worked up quite an appetite. After getting his bearings, Vegeta grudgingly opted to go back to Frieza’s ship and get a filling meal.

On return, he checked the med-bay first to find Raditz still immersed in healing liquids. At least the third-class was going to live. Not that he cared; at least not enough to have his mood lifted. Vegeta trekked to the mess hall next, thankful that most staff had disembarked. He was in no mood to talk to anyone.

Sadly, there was still a short line at the feeding station. Five men out of the six in the room stood waiting, and the line did not move. At all. After a minute, Vegeta shoved past the waiting men until he found the culprit: a tall, thin green alien that moved slowly and deliberately, collecting his slob with agonizing slowness. Like an old man, although Vegeta doubted the creature could be much older than himself. Vegeta growled at him, but when the man turned, recognition fluttered inside the Saiyan’s mind.

The feeling, it turned out, was mutual. The creature froze, and the closer Vegeta studied it, the more disgusted he felt. It was too thin and had grown up weak. Then the man started to shake as well. This was not an unusual reaction to the Prince of Saiyans from a civilian but for a soldier… it was just odd.

“Don't I know you?” Vegeta pondered.

The green man’s face contorted, either in rage or fear. Or both. “You...” it hissed. Then it seemed to lock up and as it looked down at its ugly, crooked fingers.

What a mess of a man. How could Frieza allow something like that to work for it? Vegeta mused, and yet. He knew this creature… well, it didn't really matter. Food, now that was important.

“What the hell is the hold up?” he inquired.

The look of shock that came over the man’s face sparked another memory. Of someone younger, a lot healthier looking, and... Yes, this was the boy... The one that could... cook … right? Vegeta certainly didn't remember him being this ugly and crooked, or this weird in the head.

A purple face pushed the tall green thing to the side, and this one Vegeta definitely recognised: Cui. “Can't even remember his name, can you, Vegeta? This is Cordwell. You’ve caused him a lot of suffering, you know?”

If Cui had meant to talk for the gaunt thing, he met some opposition from the creature in question. The thing called Cordwell leaned over Cui’s shoulder, and pushed round fish-like eyes close to Vegeta’s face as it spat out: “It’s all your fault!”

Vegeta returned the challenge with another snarl. How dare he speak that way? Lekus... No. And now this creep? No. he was not responsible. “You might want to be more specific. You upset I didn't kill your mom before she had you or something?”

Cordwell made an attempt to climb over Cui, long limbs reached out and twisted fingers grabbed for the prince. “You put me up to it. Put us up to it.”

It foamed at the mouth now, and the spectacle was disgusting enough to make Vegeta rethink fighting the creature. Maybe he’d eradicate it from a distance, but he didn't want to catch whatever madness held the lanky alien. Its words made little sense, and despite any real belief that this thing was capable of intelligent conversation, Vegeta heard himself ask: “What?”

“We tried to run,” Cordwell panted, having made a path over and past Cui, who now tried to restrain him from behind. The squid didn’t have enough footing, and so the green mess inched closer to Vegeta. “You told us we’d die if we didn't. That we should take the pods. But we were caught.”

Confused, Vegeta fixed Cui with a questioning glare. But he was met with such a hostile look  that he had to ask: “What nonsense is this freak talking about, squid?”

Cui tisked at him, then violently wrestled the much larger alien back. “You gonna deny this now, monkey? Everyone knows your father was a traitor. But you had to go on and pull us down with you, didnt you?”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta inquired, disgusted.

The foaming, sick thing accused with a voice that jumped another octave: “When your stupid old man got himself killed. You told us they’d come for us too. That we’d be killed. That we should run. But we only ever got the pods to lift off before we were retrieved. And we ran, so we were guilty. I’m... I’m all that’s left. We... we... we should never have listened to you. You killed them.”

That didn't make sense. Vegeta had not known about his father’s coupe until after it had happened. He’d not had the chance to tell anyone anything, with Frieza smacking him around. And even if he had... What the man claimed was impossible. No one could get a pod to take off without clearance.

Nothing the boy said made any sense. None of whatever was supposed to have happened to those boys was his fault... and Lekus...? That wasn’t his fault either. Vegeta stared down at the tray in his hands, red pushing up and around his vision. The tray shook as his hands threatened to bend it, until found the perfect place to bury it: right in that lying green slime’s lying face. The Saiyan didn’t pause before he socked Cui in his tentacled mouth. Vegeta turned again to charge a blast at Cordwell, but the thing was already swinging its own tray at Vegeta. It contacted with a smack to the side of his skull, but the Saiyan took it with a grin, just so he could fire off the ki he held.

It was not rage that overtook him, rather something empty and uncaring. Vegeta swung punches without even blocking, and when he felt Cui rain blows on his back he took the punches to his kidneys and spine as well. He was probably smiling, perhaps even laughing. Vegeta’s fists throbbed with every impact, and he clung to that feeling regardless of any other body parts screaming that he was taking actual damage.

Vegeta didn’t give a fuck anymore, he just methodically punched the tall green creature to the beat of some alarm that had gone off and now blared across the mess hall. He turned to exchange fists with Cui again, only slightly hampered by the green beanstalk that now tried to restrain him. Vegeta swung out his elbows left and right, not even caring what he hit. This bought him a few seconds, which he used to turn his assault back to Cui, until something dropped on his head hard enough to daze him.

It must have been Cordwell, dropping something hard on him. But it was impossible to tell, because his head was ringing. It didn't matter though. With a shake of the head, Vegeta waited for his vision to clear enough so he could pummel the first shape he made out. He’d drink it up, all of it, drink it up and spit it out tenfold. And it was working. Cui and Cordwell were so confused and rattled by Prince’s willingness to take anything they dished out that they guarded more than attacked.

With one last hard hook, Vegeta pushed Cui back far enough to make another one-eighty turn and lounge at Cordwell. But the creature had already backpedaled at least six paces and then dropped to his knees, eyes wide as he looked off to Vegeta’s left and cowered. It was not as the Saiyan had it pissing its pants though.

“Dodoria.” It shuddered, like that monster was something worse than the Prince. Vegeta was less impressed. He just turned to face this new threat, and charged up another blast.

The pink brute reached out a large fist and engulfed Vegeta’s entire arm, blast and all. “Making trouble, little Prince? And while our master is getting ready for his guests no less? Bad timing.”

What guests?

“Fuck you,” he raged and tried to pull his arm free, unwilling to extinguish the shot, even when he started to smell cooked flesh. That ki was intended for Dodoria’s face, to wipe that ugly smile off it. Vegeta bared his teeth.

Dodoria blinked, then smiled a toothy smile. “Oh yeah. I think you need a little time to cool off, don’t you?”

“Fuck. You.” It burned, and it occurred to Vegeta that his hand would sear off before he even pierced Dodoria’s thick skin. Logic. He was going to think, not act like some blood-raged… The ki went out.

“I’m guessing that’s Saiyan for yes.”

read the rest on https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338988/chapters/35590152 or ff.net