Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the characters featured in the manga or television series. All other characters are mine, hear me? MINE!

Author's Note: Oh, the cat came back, the very next day. The cat came back, they thought she was a goner, but the cat came back, she just couldn't stay away….

I very nearly disappeared for a while, but I'm back in action, with a new fic and everything! Hope you enjoy it, and ssjblackguy, thanks for encouraging me to write this! Now that I've started, I think I'm gonna have some fun! And thank your dad for being such a cool guy! *giggle*

Special thanks to Vegetababe, ssjblackguy, Kat8125, Bulma Peacecraft, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

1: Lucky Rock

Vegeta trudged along the street, sullenly kicking a rock down the sidewalk, one hand jammed into the pockets of the loose jeans he wore, the other clutching the handles of a black duffel bag. It was quite the blustery day outside, but the Saiyan was far too engrossed in his thoughts to notice the biting wind pricking at his skin through the hooded sweater he wore. The zipper in the front was only half done, revealing a skintight black T-shirt, plain in design.

He growled to himself, reflecting on the events of the day as he ambled slowly along, following whatever direction his kicking rock happened to take him. It had been a normal day, for his standards, at least, in the beginning. It was 6:30 in the evening though, and he was officially homeless, with nothing but the clothes he wore, the contents of his bag, and a few bills that had been shoved hastily into his pocket.

As per usual, he had woken with the rise of the sun, long ago having chosen to forego the necessity of an alarm clock, except to wake himself up from what Mrs. Briefs had called 'power naps.' He had showered and dressed quickly in his training gear, heading out to the gravity room for an early morning training session. That was all fine and dandy, and when the computer's lifeless voice told him it was 9:00, he shut down the gravity simulation and made his way across the yards toward the main house, where he knew Ms. Briefs or her daughter would be up preparing breakfast. Most likely Ms. Briefs, he had thought to himself, because it was Saturday, and Bulma liked sleeping in on weekends.

And he had been right. The table was already piled high with a buffet of various breakfast foods when he entered the kitchen, and he had grunted, as always, in response to his host's bubbly greeting. The meal had tasted good, as was to be expected, because Vegeta knew Ms. Briefs to be a good cook, and nothing else. He had not seen the younger, prettier Briefs woman yet but that was not out of the ordinary. It was common on weekends for him to not see Bulma until late at night, and as she had not woken up yet, and would likely sleep for a few more hours, the Saiyan assumed this to be the case, and went about his daily routine. After breakfast came more training in the gravity room, with the option of skipping lunch or taking a break. When noon had rolled around, he had not been terribly hungry, and had opted to skip lunch and eat a large supper later, which was not unusual for him. The Briefs' knew Vegeta as being incredibly devoted to his training and he often became so engrossed in the activity that he would either forget to eat, or intentionally skip meals so as not to disrupt his training. Even neglecting to sleep for days at a time was not uncommon if he felt he was particularly close to achieving his goal of becoming a Super Saiyan.

Training had been progressing as it normally did until about 5:00, when the rumblings of his stomach had become too loud to ignore. His shoulder was also feeling strained, and he thought it might be a good idea to eat early, and perhaps give himself some time to rest up before training again. So he shut down the gravity simulator once more and ambled languidly into the house, massaging his sore shoulder as he did so. Headed for the kitchen, he had been stopped by Ms. Briefs, who informed him that she would be preparing a large dinner of roast chicken and Taber corn, which happened to be two of his favorite foods. But it would be a while, she had told him, so it would give him time to shower and change for dinner.

Heading up the stairs to the bathroom, Vegeta showered and changed as he was told, not really in the mood to hear Bulma's harping about coming to the dinner table a mess. He had done that once or twice before, and had left with his poor Saiyan ears ringing for a week after her lecture.

At about 5:30, he had padded down the stairs, dressed in a pair of pair of slightly baggy blue jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a red hooded sweatshirt that he had taken a particular liking to. The kitchen was empty, but wandering into the dining room, he found the table piled high with various containers and trays of food. He had been confused at first, because he distinctly remembered Mrs. Briefs telling him that she was cooking, but he quickly dismissed his suspicions and pulled the clear plastic cover off a tray of sandwiches and dug in. It was entirely possible that she, in her ditzy ways, had left the food in the oven too long or at too high a heat and burnt it all to a crisp. It had happened before, and, not in the mood to start over, she had ordered food from a local restaurant. So he assumed it had happened again.

So around 6:00, Vegeta was wiping his fingers on a napkin, having polished off the last of the feast. He was somewhat surprised that none of his hosts had joined him, but he shrugged it off, thinking that their loss was his gain. If they had joined him, he would have been forced to share. It annoyed him though, that he had actually bothered to shower and change for their stupid human dinner, and they had not even had the courtesy to show up.

Just as he was pushing back his chair to leave and return to training, the dining room door opened and Bulma strode in. Her eyes widened as she took in the mess on the table, and she sputtered for a moment or two, before letting out the longest, most vulgar string of curses Vegeta had ever heard from a woman's mouth. And they were all directed at his highness, who stood, confused and uncertain of what exactly he had done wrong, as the wrathful little harpy sunk her talons into him.

The Saiyan snorted disdainfully, kicking his rock again, following it across the street and around the corner. How was he to know that all that food had been for Capsule Corp's annual summer picnic that was to take place the next day? How was he to know that it was, as Bulma had put it, "Impossible to replace that much food in such a short amount of time, you big, dumb jackass!"? Hell, he hadn't even known there was a picnic the next day! He was no mind reader, and she had not told him, so what did she expect of him?

She had been absolutely livid, angrier than he had ever seen her, and he had decided that she must have had a bad day, or perhaps she was suffering from that God awful female 'condition' she went through every month. Either way, she was pissed, and screeched at him for a full ten minutes before stomping upstairs, with him in tow. Only out of curiosity did he allow her to drag him along behind her, and the same curiosity made him stand still and watch as she stormed into his room, and began tossing his clothing into a duffel bag.

"GO!" she had screeched, shoving the bag into his arms once it was full. "Get out of here! I am so SICK of you doing whatever you want without thinking about anyone in this household and I cannot stand it any more! Get out of my house, and don't come back until you've learned how to respect your hosts!"

Both bewildered and angered by her tirade, he had hefted the bag over his shoulder and stormed out of the room, the woman right at his heels. "You think I need your 'hospitality,' woman?" he snorted, trying to get in the last word. "You forget that I practically raised myself! I don't need you and your stupid mother to take care of me."

"You couldn't last a day out there by yourself." She had snarled, slamming the door as he stepped outside. Marching down the sidewalk, a voice called out, and he turned to see Mrs. Briefs running toward him.

"You might need this." The flirty blonde sighed, shoving a wad of bills into his pocket as ebony eyes widened in protest. "Bulma's pretty stressed about some project or another at work, and she's been taking it out on the family for a few days now. She'll cool down in a few days, but until then it's probably best to stay away." She had flitted off in her usual way, back into the house, leaving him to stand out in the wind.

Growling to himself, he turned and strode away, down the sidewalk and onto public property. He wouldn't return to Capsule Corporation any time soon.

Vegeta kicked his rock, following it's skittering path down the sidewalk. He was far away from Capsule Corp by then, but his thoughts still followed the trail of the blue haired beauty and her angry tirade. His mind was made up. He wouldn't go back. Not yet. Not until he could prove to that little wench that he could last in the Human world…no, he would do better than that. He would make her eat those harsh words of hers…yes; he'd do much better than that. He wouldn't go back until he had become a success in her stupid Human world…He would rise to the top and make her rue the day she challenged the Saiyan no Ouji…

But the question was how…He was homeless at the moment, and didn't even know if he had enough cash to stay in a hotel for the night. How was he to rise up by his own merit? It would have been easy to just take over a country or something, but that would hardly prove his competence… It would only bring further disrespect…No; he had to do this her way, so he could prove once and all that he was better than any pathetic human on the planet.

With a light kick of his foot, Vegeta's rock went bumping down the sidewalk again, hitting the brick wall of a building, barely missing the glass doors by a few centimeters. Walking toward where his rock had gone, he caught sight of the sign on the door, and another one in the window nearby.

"Hoffman Design Firm" the door read.

"Male Models Needed" the window proclaimed.

Vegeta smirked to himself, picking up his rock and stuffing it in his pocket. "You are one lucky rock, you know that?" He chuckled, pulling open one of the doors and stepping inside.

So what do you all think? Can you see Vegeta as a model? Hell, does he even know what a model is? *giggle* This first chapter was a little short…but I'll try and make them longer as I get more into the story!

Oh, and before you ask, I will not be updating this on a weekly basis. I found that with the weekly schedule, I usually ended up putting out crappy chapters, because I didn't have the time or the inspiration to write anything better on short notice. Plus, I ended up putting up chapters late sometimes, and I don't want to disappoint anyone by setting deadlines that I can't meet. So updates will come when chapters are available, though I'll try to update as often as possible.

Check out the Mp3 of the day: 'If I Had A Million Dollars" by the Barenaked Ladies. Mostly because of boredom, I've decided to give the spotlight to some of the stranger or little known songs I've grown to like. Sometimes they'll relate to the chapter, sometimes they won't…

I have a tendency to ramble, don't I? *giggle* What starts out as a short little end note turns into a multiple paragraph letter…lol. I'll try to work on that…Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Pseudo Ferocity! Please review! It would be very nice of you to do so!