Waking up.

He awoke as he always did, suddenly and without fanfare. He blinked a few times before heaving himself to the edge of his cot. Scowling he tried to remember where he was. He remembered. He was in his cot in the back rooms of his Lab, he kept a spare one here incase he didn't feel like returning home. He looked around the spartan room dispassionately, noting the dull white walls, the lack of furniture, windows and other things.

He stood up and turned, at the foot of his cot was a metal chest, he stored his clothing in there, normally he slept naked, he had little to worry about in Conton, not only because he was mostly in his secure lab but because he wasn't surrounded by hostiles anymore. 'Twenty years..." he mused. He had spent twenty years working for the PTO, going to various planets and killing off the inhabitants, during that time he had never been out of his armour except on his home on Vegeta. Compared to these last nine years of service to the TP it was a relatively soft experience.

And one he wasn't sure he liked. He finished dressing, the blue body suit hugging his form. The great thing about these, he idly noted, was that it allowed maximum range of movement and also allowed the users skin to still breathe. Granted when he had first started wearing them he had hated it, he had much preferred his leather and hide clothing. Now though, after decades of wearing it he'd grown fond of it. He turned and marched towards his door, trying to remember if he had anything to do today.

As he walked out from the doorway, closing it behind him, he came to a short sterile white hallway. He continued onwards, reaching the end to stand in front of another door, this one metal and with a panel with numbers on the frame. He tapped a few keys in quick sequence, unlocking the door. It opened with a hiss, and as he walked through it it closed with another hiss, followed by clunking as the locks reset.

He looked around at his lab, the various tables filled with equipment, materials and papers, to the various shelves that held most of his specimens. He spied his work desk by the back corner of his lab, covered in folders and one of the two items he was looking for. As he walked towards it he thought about his assistant, Alomora, he had given her the day off today, he knew how much staying locked in a lab messed with your sense of time. Let alone what it did for your social life. He chuckled at that.

Reaching his desk he spied what he wanted. A basic coffee maker, he tapped one of the buttons and it immediately went to work, the sound of hissing steam and dripping water emanating from it. Turning he grabbed his chair and moved it closer, seating down in front of his desk. Now that he was situated he rolled back slightly to have better access to his desk drawers, opening one he took out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a coffee cup. He rolled to his left, where he had place a mini fridge, to not only keep specimens cool but to house his coffee creamer. This had only ever back fired once.... That he could remember.

Closing the fridge and moving back he opened another drawer, getting out a few sugar packets and a plastic spoon. There was enough coffee now to make a cup, while he did this he reflected on some of the people he knew.

First, there was Matos, his friend, or as close to a friend someone like himself could have. Targos would be the first to admit he was naive and uncaring when it came to social and cultural norms, but then again Matos was also a Saiyan, so he didn't really care that much. Sometimes he gave him strange advice, sometimes that advice got him beat up. A lot of the times actually... Maybe he should stop taking his advice...

He took a sip of his coffee, the bittersweet drink waking him up. Sighing he placed it down and grabbed his cigarette pack, opening it up he snagged one and the lighter within. As he lit it up and inhaled the acrid smoke he thought about his assistant, Alomora.

He didn't really know how she came to be his assistant, well, that wasn't true. He was bored one day and overheard that this particular Majin liked creating things. So he asked if she'd like to join him. She'd been delighted. He remembered the first time he'd had her make her first batch of combat drugs, she'd been so excited that she'd made something he couldn't help but smile proudly. Then he told her what they did and she'd been less happy. Oh well.

He took another drag of his cigarette, he felt old but he sure didn't look it yet. He opened one of the folders on his desk at random, scanning the contents lazily. it was something his son had sent him, apparently he was working on the Theory of Time, ever since unlocking that power of his he had thrown himself into experiment after experiment with whatever he could get his hands on. Like father like son, he mused. His first meeting with his child had gone... Poorly, he still remembered the vitriol with which he had been spoken to. 'You're not my father, you're a monster!'

He still felt a pang of hurt when he remembered. He had to make allowances for him though, he didn't grow up like he did, like a saiyan. He grew up loved, surrounded by family, comforts. Soft. Targos had never been good with words, despite how smart he was, he wanted his son to be better, stronger. And nothing like himself. Now he rarely spoke to him, or if he did he treated him distantly or as a lab partner. Never as a father. He couldn't help but feel like he failed.

He shut the folder he was perusing and opened another one. he only payed attention halfheartedly though. It was a report from one of his underlings in the Patrol. Apparently he'd encountered problems and had managed to get one of his arms incinerated. He sighed. he was going to have more paper work soon, he'd half to fill out forms and a letter of recrimination to this one, and maybe some mandatory academy time. Sometimes being a Commander was tough. His cigarette was nearly out so he placed it in the palm of his hand, a quick burst of energy and not even ashes remained.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He thought about the saiyan woman he had beat down and won a bet against. Lima. She'd heard of his dubious reputation around Conton as a bad fighter and challenged him. He didn't know what had made him agree, or place the terms of the bet he made, but, He had beat her down effortlessly. And gained a wife too. Technically, in the rules of Conton, this would be illegal, but in Saiyan culture, especially for a Tribal like he used to be, it was fair and even encouraged to beat down and take the mate you wanted. Maybe a bout of loneliness had taken him that day, or something. But whatever the case she had agreed to it and now they were... Happy?

He poured himself another coffee. He didn't know to be honest, yes they had sex, sometimes she even initiated it, but they never really spoke that much. Maybe he should sit down and spend the day talking with her. Granted, if he was honest, he liked her. Something which he didn't think was possible with her being one of the typical saiyans. He didn't want to think too much of it.

There was other people to think about too, but right now he had to work on these folders. He reckoned he'd be spending a few days inside his lab again. 'Ah well, not like I'll be missed' he thought. He stacked the folders one by one and began reading through them.