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The Dark Duke	By : okieday17 Category: Dragon Ball Z > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2835 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Warnings: Cussing. More cussing than usual. (How is that possible?)

A/N: Here is the promised update, on time and everything! Big pat on my back, as well as Lilpumpkingirl, who beta's better than the best of ‘em--and keeps up with my crazy self-imposed schedule--thank you!

To all of my readers, reviewers, lurkers--I love you all. Your feedback, criticism, critiques, comments and encouragement mean all the world to me and I'm sorry if I have not taken the time to sit down and respond to every single one of you to say thank you. Just know how much your kind words mean to me and I love to see what you guys think of where this story is going next, and want thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Bulma the Spy



      Goku had only been in London for a few months, but he was certain of a few things.



      One, he missed America and his old life. Here, he did not have the freedom he had there--he could not go out with Bulma at two in the morning to climb trees and talk about their future's, or go swimming naked on the private stream that ran through their family lands. He could not even fight at Jackson's as he fought freely in the salons in New York. Vegeta had forbidden him from ever going to Jacksons--not that he gave Goku a reason, as Goku had quickly learned when Vegeta said something he expected to be obeyed...only Bulma seemed exempt from this rule. In America at least he had the fighting clubs to look forward to, where he could shed his cultured skin for a few hours at a time--here the only fighting he ever saw was with Vegeta, and more and more rarely Krillin.



      The next thing that Goku he was certain of was that there was no way he was cut out for the life ahead of him. A viscountcy? Hah! Goku could barely dress himself in the mornings, let alone run the entailed land and people who came with said entailed land. Yeesh. He would much rather be out living in the country. He did not want to have to deal with making decisions that impacted anyone's life but his own. There was just a lot of pressure on him, when all he really wanted to do was fight! His life in England was rolling out before him unpleasant in what it promised. Nothing but a staid and boring existence from here on out it seemed....



      The final thing that Goku was one hundred percent absolutely certain of was that he HATED being at events like the one he was currently at. Another stuffy ballroom, full of dreary people, and simpering girls who fawned over nothing but his title...Goku would rather be having one on one tea with the dowager than dealing with these people. Especially since Bulma was at home sick--which forced Goku to interact with others, people he had met before but had no recollection of really, and forced him to dance with girls who seemed to only be able to blink and smile at him.



       At least when Bulma was here he always had someone to talk to, even if they could only stand next to each other for a few minutes before the stares got too curious. Sure, his parents were here, so he technically had other's he should have been able to go to and have a conversation with...but Bunny was in the corner with the other matron's, and his father was off somewhere talking about Capsule Corp and technological breakthroughs. Goku would rather stand uncomfortably in the corner like he was than engage in either of those conversations.



      Goku was just sighing into his drink, thinking about how much better his life had been before all of this (well, maybe not all of it, as a certain chef's smile floated in front of his face), when he saw a very persistent mama he had been ducking for weeks heading his way, with her simpering and smiling daughter in tow. Goku tightly gripped the cup he was holding, cracking the crystal, and he desperately looked for an escape route as the mama weaved closer and closer through the crowd.



      Goku grew more nervous, knowing his window of leaving without looking like he was fleeing was growing smaller and smaller as the gap between him and the shark of a mother vanished. At this point it was either dash away like a mad person--or be stuck in conversation with this woman as she tried to talk Goku into marrying her daughter. On second thought--that was not a hard choice for him at all.



      Mind made up Goku quickly ducked out of the corner he was in, practically sprinting down the hallway to the men's drawing room--which he usually avoided like the plague. Filled with cigar smoke and brandy (two things Goku could and would not partake in) and old men who thought that just because he was an American who had inherited the viscountcy that he would of course fall over himself at their advice (as Bulma would say HAH)--no thank you. But right now, he would much rather be in there with the old windbags than out there with the circling sharks who masqueraded as mother's to any girl who was of 'marriageable' age.



      Surprisingly, though, when he entered the room it was empty except for his father, devoid of the usual haze of cigar smoke and the chatter of long-winded...windbags.



      Dr. Briefs, who had been staring out of a window smoking a cigar, turned at the sound of the door opening. Goku took comfort in seeing the familiar crinkling of his father's eyes as he smiled at him from the corner. "Goku! What a pleasant surprise."



      Goku walked over to his dad, glad it was just them as he followed his father's lead and stared out of the window. "Hey dad. What are you doing in here by yourself?"



      Dr. Briefs took a long puff on his cigar, the red tip glowing back at them in the pane of the window they were looking through before he blew out a slow exhale, finally shaking his head when he spoke, "Just remembering why I did not want to settle down with your mother in England twenty-fives years ago, and finding out how nothing has changed, unfortunately."



      Goku was intrigued by the somewhat vague statement. "Dad?"



      Dr. Briefs was starring into nothing, his voice faraway when he answered. "These people crave my friendship so they can get my advice on all things technical, but I'm still little more than a traveling charlatan in their eyes. On one hand they cannot get enough of me and my new ideas, on the other they hate that someone not of their ilk would deign to give them advice...." He shook his head a bit more vigorously this time, as if to shake the maudlin thoughts away, before he smiled at his son looking at his reflection in the glass. "But listen to this old man get morose. I should be asking you why you aren't out there charming the socks off of British society."



      Goku grimaced at that thought. "Dad, we both know I'm a Ton-type person."



      A chuckle, "Nonsense. Those people cannot get enough of you. You've charmed all of English society with your warmth."



      Goku shrugged, uncomfortable. "I don't think they like me much."



      "Ah, Goku, that's where you are wrong. They don't have to like you--you already have what they want in a person." Goku turned to his father at that, questioning, but Dr. Briefs eyes grew far-off as he stared back into the dark nothingness of night. His voice was low as he muttered, "A damn title."



      Goku had no response to that, watching his father, as Dr. Briefs' frown grew deeper and deeper. Goku could count the number of times he had ever seen his father frown on one hand (well, not counting when an experiment in the lab was not working, but that hardly counted) and he had never seen him like this. "Dad, what's the matter?"



      Dr. Briefs shrugged. "It does not matter how old you are or how old your children are for that matter--when you hear someone say something distasteful about your own children...I couldn't help myself."



      Goku was staring at him, open interest written in his features. "Couldn't help yourself from doing what?"



      Dr. Briefs did not say anything, but instead brought forth the hand he had been holding behind his back the whole conversation, sighing, "I lost control of myself."



      Goku gingerly took the offered hand, and sucked in a breath of surprise when he saw the bloody and bruised knuckles. Even if he were not a fighter, Goku would have recognized these wounds were from his father punching someone. Goku looked at his father, shock warring with pride. "You hit someone?! What happened? Are you okay?"



      Dr. Briefs nodded, shaking off Goku's concern and placing his hand back behind his back. "I'm fine." He waited a beat before adding, "The Earl of Satan's nose might be a good inch from where it was earlier...but I'm okay."



      Satan? The name rang absolutely no bells to him but that did not surprise Goku. Indeed, with his head spinning from the revelation of his pacifist father actually striking someone, Goku was lucky to remember his own name in that moment. Still, Goku was more curious as to what Satan would have done to incite a need to strike in his father. "What did the man do? Did he say something?"



      Dr. Briefs looked Goku square in the eyes for the first time, shrugging, "More of an innuendo than anything. Something about how your sister and the Duke of Vegetasei both are conspicuously missing tonight, and that they've obviously carrying on an affair under our noses." Dr. Briefs usual line free face grew tight with anger, "He seemed to think that Bulma's beauty did not outweigh her being an American, so that she wasn't good enough for anyone who had a title for anything other than an affair."



      Goku tightened his hands into fists, rage that anyone would spread such vile rumors about his sister causing him to grow angry as a fine red mist settled over his vision. "What?!"



      Dr. Briefs chuckled at seeing Goku's anger, as rare as Dr. Briefs' was, shaking his head at his son. "Yes. I should have just turned away from idle gossip like that--but something struck a nerve. It was not much different about what was said about your mother when we got married. That she was sullying her blood, and that she would not be worth anything now that she had married a man with no title. I guess twenty-five years later it still smarts."



      Goku, whose ears were pounding as blood rushed to his head, missed most of his father's words, "Where is he? I'll kill him."



      Dr. Briefs gave Goku a stern glance, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. "You will do no such thing my boy. Lord Satan is nothing but a pompous fool, and if I was not such a sought after scientist, he would have every right to call me out for my hitting him. Luckily he was more embarrassed than anything, and he'll want this swept under the rug, much like I do." Dr. Briefs eyes grew unfocused as he muttered, "Though I'm not sure what the chances are of that since there were three gentleman witnesses who will no doubt be gossiping about this in no time."



      Goku was still angry at the unjustified slander being thrown at his sister. "He has no right to be saying those things about Bulma! She is twice the woman as any of the other ladies in there, and she is smarter than all of the titled men combined!"



      Dr. Briefs gave Goku a pitying look, drawing his eyes back to Goku's own. "You are right on both counts. Especially in that Satan has no right--but your mother and I knew ever since Bulma was young that she would draw the ire of everyone around her. Not because of her personality, but because of who she is. A rich heiress, who has the world going for her. People hate her on principal, but Bulma has always done an extraordinary job of keeping her head held high. I constantly thank Kami that you are here to remind her that she is allowed to have fun, and does not always need to be so stuffy." Dr. Briefs winged an eyebrow up, smirking, "It's why I did not say anything when the two of you stole my pocket watch and returned it a day later, fixed. I don't even want to know how broken it was."



      Goku felt slightly sheepish at that, but did not say anything other than a mumbled, "Sorry dad."



      Dr. Briefs waved his hand, shooing Goku's unnecessary apology off. "No--don't start that now. It's what I love about the two of you together. And I did not tell you about Lord Satan to incite your latent blood lust Goku."



      Goku looked into his father's eyes, curious. "Then why did you?"



      Dr. Briefs sighed, "What I'm trying to say about Bulma is because of who she is she will always draw unnecessary hatred for it--and even more so in England, where people believe being born without a title means you are automatically a lesser human being. They hate Bulma because they know she is more beautiful, more resilient, and smarter than any of their own daughters--and their own sons, who were born with titles."



      "It's not fair dad!"



      Dr. Briefs sighed, shaking his head, "No. It's not. Which is why I need you to always be here for your sister, and to protect her when she needs it the most."



      Goku tilted his head, confused. "Of course dad. You already know I will...that we will. We're a family."



      Dr. Briefs smiled, giving a nod, squeezing Goku's shoulder before dropping his hand and turning back to the outside view. "That's right son. We are a family. But your mother and I will not always be here for Bulma. Bulma is going to stay in England--I can feel it in my bones. She is going to marry here, most likely someone with a title--and because she is an American, others will hate her for it. So you need to protect her when I cannot, when your mother and me go back to America."



      Goku nodded his head, emphatically. "Of course dad! You know I will always take care of her. I love her!"



      Dr. Briefs smiled, the familiar crinkling of his eyes back, "Good. I knew I could count on you Goku. It's one of the reasons I know you are my son, blood be damned--you are ready to protect those you love without a moment's hesitation."



      Goku smiled at Dr. Briefs, and pulled his father into an impetuous hug. It only lasted a few seconds, but both men squeezed the other, before abruptly letting go, back to staring out the window.



      No other words were said between the pair, instead both of them drifting off to their own troubled thoughts as the sounds of the party seeped in through the walls that separated them from everyone else.



~~&~~

      When Bulma returned from the hall closet, where she was grabbing some extra towels for the Duke of Vegetasei's room, she had transformed herself in that short walk. She no longer walked like Bulma Briefs, Capsule Corp heiress, and woman who had the world at her feet, no. Instead she walked hunched over, as meekly as possible, trying to convey the air of someone who had come to London with big dreams and ended up working at a hotel, trying to make ends meet as the coldness of the city shattered her dreams of ever not being a servant....If she had been given enough time, Bulma would have thought up a whole new name and back story for herself, but as it was, she was just going to have to wing it.



      When she finally reached the door she had just exited, she gave it a meek nod, keeping her eyes low, never going above eye level as Vegeta opened the door. "Yer towels, yer Grace."

      Vegeta grabbed the top two towels from her, growling in his most authoritative voice, "No more disturbances."

      "O' course, yer Grace."

      He had flipped pence over to her, and Bulma had greedily pocketed it as Vegeta slammed the door on her face. As Bulma slowly turned, her head still kept low (there was a window at the end of the hallway, so who knew who could be watching her from there) as she carried the rest of her towels to the next room, she used the opportunity to study her surroundings. It was a fairly straightforward hallway, the walls a cream color with thin gold stripes, and the rich carpet absorbing her footfalls-- in other words, still opulent and expensive.



      As she reached the first suite on the left, deciding to go in a clockwise circle as she searched the rooms, Bulma felt herself pause as she stopped outside one of the rooms. Okay--this was it. This was where shit got real for her. She was about to break into a room. As her hand dropped into her pocket for her trusty bobby-pin, she found it to be shaking, and she took a second to clasp the bobby pin her hand, close her eyes and take a deep breath, before she withdrew her hand again. Come on Bulma. You got this.

      Due to her innate skill with lock-picking (useful for when her and Goku pulled pranks), she easily slipped the bobby pin in, twirled it for a few seconds, and heard the soft click that let her know the door was now unlocked.

      She allowed herself to straighten as she entered the room, once the door was closed, she began looking at the room layout, realizing it was almost identical to what her and Vegeta had. There was a large sitting room, with two hallways leading to two different rooms. Everything was bought with the intention of shouting out wealth and richness, and provided plenty of spaces for people to hide a slip of paper. Bulma's stomach roiled at that thought, but she forced herself to inhale deeply, trying to calm down. Only to find the fresh smell of a clean hotel room overwhelming to her senses.



      Well, she doubted the list would be hidden in the sitting room... she should probably start with the first room. As she gingerly clutched the towels she was using as her excuse for being here (‘Dinna someone ask for towels?') tighter, she took a few more steps into the room.

       Clack, clack, clack!

      Bulma whirled, what the hell is that?! Her eyes going large as she looked around the empty room for the source of the noise. Was there someone coming down the hallways? Should she hide?! Where should she hide?! What if she was about to die?!

       Clippity-clop, clippity-clop.

       Oh. It was just the sound of a horse drawn carriage on the cobblestones eighty feet below her. Bulma walked over to one of the windows in the sitting room, looking down, before she pulled away, getting a chill when she saw how far down it was to the ground. In New York, there were buildings like this, industry buildings... Bulma just never went into them. It was not that she had a fear of heights--hell, she could climb trees, and buildings if necessary (thinking about the night she had overheard Zhelonie's meeting with Ginyu), but there was something about looking down and seeing how unnaturally high up one was that got her nerves fraying.

      She pulled away from the window, shivering, and focused in on the first room, glad the carpet muffled her footsteps as she walked down the hallway. Even though she was ninety-nine percent sure that the room was empty, Bulma tapped lightly on it, her Irish singsong voice thick as she said, "House-keepin'."

      Nothing.

      Bulma gave a sigh, entering the room and forcing herself to observe her surroundings. Like the one she had used to change, it was dominated by a large four poster bed, the only other furniture a nightstand, a desk and chair, and a dresser. There was also a medium sized walk in closet. Unlike her room--this one was obviously well used. There were clothes strewn everywhere, there was a faintly lived-in smell that dominated the clean scene of the sitting room, and the top of the dresser was covered with jars and jars of makeup and perfume. Bulma was confused for a second--she had thought that this was a man's room, as all members of the Ginyu were men--but then remembered that they were actors.

      Eccentric types, in other words.

      Who was she to judge them for wearing make-up?



      Well, besides someone who was very obviously searching through their rooms....



      Bulma took a delicate step into the room, closing the door behind her, and put the towels down on the desk. She put her hands on her hips, surveyed the room with a sort of helplessness that felt foreign to her. Where do I even begin?

      Well that would not do--Bulma Briefs was not a helpless person. She was a go-getter--and that meant she was going to ransack this room right and well. With that in mind she took a step forward....

       Tick, tick, tick.

       What the hell is that?! Bulma jumped out of her skin, turning, her hands up in fists, ready to fight whoever was making that sound--until she saw one of those monstrous Swedish made clocks attached to the wall--obviously not part of the hotel decor, and this person's personal addendum to the room. It was hideous--and extremely loud.

      But no reason to freeze up and waste precious time. Especially as she saw what time it was--cripes! Her and Vegeta had arrived shortly before eight, and it was now close to nine--she only had until about eleven-ten to search. She had at least five more rooms to search--she could not lolly-gag about, jumping at every noise she heard if she was ever going to get them done in time. She was in the heart of London. There was always going to be noise. She needed to keep herself alert, but Kami, not this alert. She needed to focus, and start searching--and start searching now.

      She took out her pocket watch, sighed when she saw that the Swiss clock was in fact right and it was time to start searching like a pro. She rolled up her proverbial sleeves, and steeled herself for what she was about to do. If she did not find this list, she would not be just disappointing herself, or the British crown for that matter--she would be disappointing Vegeta.

      She frowned at that last thought...when had it started mattering to her whether or not she disappointed Vegeta? Hell--when they had first gotten to England, she would have welcome every and all opportunity to make sure she disappointed him. Now...now though, it mattered to her greatly that she did a good job in his eyes...And she knew that one way to please him tonight, to make him proud of her, would be to find that list.

      Funny how that was the thought that finally put a reign on her wayward thoughts, got her to calm down, and start searching...

~~&~~

      By the time she had entered the final suite, she had about thirty-two minutes left to search she noted as she saw it was just after ten-forty-three. Only one more sitting room, and three more bedrooms to look through. Easy-peasy. She could do this in thirty-two minutes no problem.

      She used her trusty bobby pin to unlock the door, towels in one hand and began her thorough sweep of the room with her eyes. It was almost mechanical now--the rooms all had the same furniture and mostly the same layout, so she would move in a clockwise motion around the room, looking for secret catches, latches, and sewn in pouches. She would lift furniture, she would crawl on her hands and knees--she found the more searching she did, the better she got at looking. So far she had not found the list she was looking for, though she was finding an odd collection of weapons hidden inside of other things (umbrella's, walking sticks--hell, even shoes) that let her know she was searching in the rooms of spies and not ordinary actors and at least doing it right.

      Bulma was in the second to last of the rooms she had to look through when she finally struck gold. She almost missed it, because her brain had been on autopilot as she did her search, but something stopped her from getting off of her hands and knees as she looked under the bed. Though the hotel was clean, there was a complete lack of dust from under the right side of the bed.

      A sixth sense told Bulma that this was not due to some meticulous maid--but because there was an abundance of movement around and under this side of the bed. She frowned as she ran her hands along the bottom of the bed, crawling under a little to see if she could see anything--nothing stood out though. No bumps, no papers stuffed under the box springs.

      She frowned as she stood, her eyes moving over to the nightstand that was standard in any room. Bulma opened the shelves as she had been doing, and found nothing to catch her interest. She had a feeling this nightstand was central to what she was looking for, though, and she decided to see if she could lift this one. The other ones in the other bedrooms had proven to be too much for her to lift, as they were solid, thick wood-- but when she put her hands underneath the lip of this one, it had easily lifted, and Bulma had to smile. Success!

      Sure enough, when she had gotten back on her hands and knees, she saw that the underside was hollowed out, with one of the legs completely emptied out. It was a small hole, but with her small hands and fingers, Bulma was able to reach inside, and pull out a tiny paper shoved in there.

      Bulma froze for a second as she put the side table back down, and sat with her back against the bad, looking at the seemingly innocuous slip of paper--it was not big, nor was it brightly colored. In other words it looked like a simple slip of paper rolled up...but when Bulma unrolled it, her eyes had grown larger than she had ever thought possible as she took it all in.

      Holy cow. This was it--a Russian note, written as a grid-list that had the alias, the suspected spy that fit that alias and where that spy possibly was currently located in England and abroad.

      Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

      Bulma's mouth grew dry and she felt a strange exhilaration spread from her rapidly beating heart all the way through her body as she eyed the list, knowing she had done it. This was it-- this was the list that Basil had trusted her to find-- and guess what--she had found it! Vegeta was going to be so proud of her!

      Bulma bounced up off of the ground, unable to stop herself from doing a little jig as she kissed the list from pure unadulterated happiness. Who's the best? I'm the best! Who's the best? I'm the best! Who's the--ouch! Bulma stubbed her toe on the side of the table the list had been found under, and she frowned at the mutinous appendage, wondering why it had to ruin her celebration. She sighed as she realized she was frowning at her toe though, and forced herself to stop acting like a kid and to get her head back in the game. Yes, she had found the list, but she was not done yet. Quickly, she tamped the heady joy down, forcing herself to go to the writing table and transcribe everything she saw on the list. It was long, but she used her own form of shorthand to copy it as quickly as possible. With this information the war offices could save lives, and hopefully figure out who was leaking out the information about who these spies were.

      As she finished transcribing, Bulma gave a quick look down the list, smiling when she saw that Vegeta's name (or alias) was not on it at all. He was safe!...Well, he was safe for now! She would have to take that....

      Bulma gave the list one last kiss, than carefully wrapped it up again, walking back over to the dummy end table. She slunk back on her hands and knees one last time, propping the table up, and putting her hand underneath as she pressed her face into the side of the bed. It would be the last suite I checked that would have the list, wouldn't it? But at least it wasn't the last room? It was still the second to last room though--WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

      Bulma froze in the position she was currently in, her hindquarters raised in the air as she realized that the click she had heard was not something on the streets that she could easily dismiss--it was the sound of the front door of this suite opening.

      Bulma's happiness evaporated like water in the sun on a hot day, her heart stopping as she felt a rising panic threaten to overwhelm her completely. Hold it together Bulma! Maybe she was imagining things again? What could someone possibly be doing here already? Curtain didn't even fall for another thirty-eight minutes! She had plenty of time before anyone was expected back!

      That brief moment of hope was dashed though, when she heard the loud slamming of a door that alerted her to the fact that it was not her overactive imagination playing tricks on her. Someone was here and they had just come through the front door of the suite she was in.

       Shit. Shit. Shit.

      Bulma stayed frozen for only long enough to realize that footsteps were heading IN HER DIRECTION, before she sprang into action, moving quickly. She shoved the papers back into the empty leg, uncaring of how neat they looked before she flattened herself, rolling under the dust cover that surrounded the bed, entering the darkness under the bed. It was not the best (or most original) of hiding spaces, but it was the only one readily available as the footsteps got louder and louder moving closer to her.

      Thankfully there was just enough space under the bed for her to squeeze in, because not a second after she made sure the dust cover was back down she heard the door to the room she was in creak open. Bulma had to cover her mouth with her hand, stifling a gasp, her erratic heartbeats making it next to impossible to hear anything. Bulma, closing her eyes, forced herself to breathe normally for a few seconds, to find her Zen zone--she needed to be alert, not panicking like a startled mare, freaking out. So she took a few deep breaths, found her center, and then opened her eyes, and moved her hand from her mouth, ready to move the second whoever was in this room, left it.

      But just in case they did not, Bulma reached into the pocket of her costume, noiselessly transforming the key Vegeta had given her not two hours before into a little gun. When that was done, Bulma curled on her side, opened her eyes, and pointed the gun towards the footsteps, praying to Kami that she was not going to have to shoot someone tonight...

~~&~~

      Guldo was long used to getting the least savory parts out of any of the Ginyu Force troupe members. For one, he was the least attractive in the whole troupe (Jeice was always fighting the ladies off after for the show), and for two he had not an ounce of acting skills (like Burter or their Captain did), nor the singing ability (like Recoome, who had the tenor of an angel) in his body to make up for that fact.

      Guldo always got delegated to lesser roles, or, if he was lucky, stage direction. Only if the Captain was feeling magnanimous though--there was no doubt Ginyu was a control freak who had a very hard time handing over the reins to anyone, even one of his trusted team members. So Guldo had long gotten used to being the least on-stage utilized member whenever the Ginyu Force had to go through the charade of being an acting company. He did not usually mind, seeing as he was the brain behind many of their most successful operations...except for times like this.

      The opera tonight was not even over for a while yet, but that rotten scoundrel of a secret agent, Zhelonie, looking for the latest list from Frieza, had visited the Ginyu Force. Guldo had known that Ginyu was not pleased with being forced to play mailman between Frieza and Zhelonie, especially not with the information the Ginyu Force had stolen from the War Offices--but he had to do what he was told. It was all part of being under Frieza's thumb. You did what Frieza wanted you to do, no questions asked--or you were punished.

      And everyone who knew anything about Frieza knew that his punishments were not something you would wish on the worst of your enemies.

      So Ginyu had heeded Zhelonie's order and had called upon Guldo, who was not in the last act, to go to the hotel to get the list a day earlier than they had been told to have it. Guldo was basically relegated to the role of errand runner, but this was a list that was not to be trusted to anyone less than the members of the Ginyu Force, so he had gone without a (verbal) complaint. He had grumbled the whole way back to the hotel in his head, though, knowing he had to hurry, bitter that he was missing out on the best tail with every moment he wasted back at the stupid hotel. Jeice could only have so many women a night, and there were always a few of his leftovers that just wanted to sleep with someone who had been on stage. Guldo was going to be missing out on these woman if he did not grab the list and practically run all the way back to the opera house.

      He entered the Captain's suite hurriedly (he didn't have to share, Guldo thought bitterly) hurriedly, and went to the empty guest room, and reached for the side table, easily lifting the hollowed out side table. He got on his hands and knees, imagining what he would like to do with some willing female tonight (maybe put her in this position he pondered) as he reached for where he knew the list was hidden. As he extracted the list though, he frowned, seeing how it was haphazardly shoved back into the table's empty leg. Usually the Captain was more meticulous than that...though things had been getting extremely stressful within the Ginyu Force lately (what with Frieza being so close), so Guldo could hardly blame him for not having the list placed in as carefully as he usually did.

      Guldo felt a tremor of unease at this as he rose slowly, after making sure the side table was back where it belonged. He frowned to the side table, trying to see if the groves in the carpet were off, or if it showed any sign of someone having recently moved it-- nothing. Still, something was...off.

      Letting his instincts as a trained assassin kick in, Guldo dropped back to his knees quickly, in one smooth, fluid movement that did not quite fit with his stature, and lifted the dust covering of the bed. Though the area was dark, Guldo's eyes adjusted to the dim underside of the bed as he took the area in, his hand also grasping so that he could feel to see if anything felt wrong. As he took a deep breath, studying the area, his eyes grew even larger as he found...

      Nothing.



      Absolutely frickin' nothing.

      Guldo's large eyes swept the area a few more times for good measure, trying to see if anything was seriously out of place--but still, he found nothing to be concerned about. He even sniffed the air trying to find a misplaced scent, but all he got for that was a mouthful of dust that caused him to sneeze. He straightened out from under the bed as he sneezed, then chuckled, shaking his head. Nerves! Frieza being here, and all of their hard work for the last several years coming to a head were playing with his mind!



      Guldo stood, dusting himself off, and then looked at his pocket watch, wondering if he had time for a quick bite before he got back to the opera. He was constantly hungry, but especially when he was nervous. As he saw the time though, he let out a loud curse as he realized that the final act would be ending soon. Dammit! He needed to get back to the theater now if he wanted to get some of Jeice's leftovers!

      As he exited the room, looking at it one last time to make sure nothing was out of place, he put the unease from his mind and went back to fantasizing about how his night would shape up, wondering what the broads in the next country they stopped in would look like....

       Whump!

      Guldo, for the second time that night, froze completely, halfway to the front door of the suite, a cold shiver running down his back as the loud sound emanating from the room he had just left hit him like a physical object. Very slowly, Guldo turned, his eyes wide as he surveyed the innocent seeming door. Taking a gulp, knowing what the consequences would be if it were ever found out that someone had been in the room with him and he had missed it, Guldo very slowly walked back to the room he had just left, hoping and praying it was nothing but his imagination playing tricks on him. Halfway there, he took a sticky swallow, his mouth feeling suddenly parched, and he unconsciously reached for the gun that was always in his pocket, cocking it as he reached the closed door, putting his back against the wall next to it as he held the gun up, taking a deep breath. Easy Guldo...you don't know that you even heard anything...

      Instinct kicking in, Guldo swiftly turned, and kicked the closed-door open, his gun aimed in front of him as his wide eyes took in the whole room.

      Empty!

       What the...? Guldo kept his gun held in front of him as he did a sweep of the room, looking back under the bed, opening the closet, hell even under the hollowed out side table, looking for a single hair out of place.

      Nothing.

      Nothing at all.

      He chuckled as he holstered his gun, shaking his head at his own skittishness. Damn, his nerves must be fried if he was imagining sounds that realistic...though the room did feel a little colder. Odd.

      Guldo was sure that nothing was out of place now, but decided to play it safe and check the windowsill outside of the room just in case...He did not think there was anyone crazy enough to be crawling around out there, but it never hurt to be too careful or paranoid in this line of business.

      Guldo walked over to the one window in the room, and slid it open; the window faced the Thames, the view clear as it was the tallest building closest to the river's shore. The cool, humid air from the river reached him even here, and as he stuck his head out, how much fresher the London air smelled up here surprised him. Gulping, Guldo forced the fear of heights he had always had, down, and took a deep breath as he braced his hands on either side of the window and stuck his head out.

       Don't look down, don't look down--oh fuck!

      Guldo made the mistake he always made of looking down, and his hands gripped the window frame hard enough to cause his hands to start hurting--though he hardly noticed as his heart was in his throat as he saw how far up he was. Eight fucking floors--this was kind of his worst nightmare. The thought of free-floating as he fell from his precarious position (though he would of course later realize he was in no danger at all from the safety of his own room) and smacking into the ground had him grinding his teeth. Nope. No thank you. This was not for him.

      Still, he knew if he did not give a perfunctory look, and it turned out there was someone out here, he would have to deal with a lot more than is fear of heights. So, very quickly, and somehow gripping the windowsill even tighter, Guldo took a deep breath, then looked from side to side, before pulling his head back in before he could even process what he was looking at. He stumbled away from the open window, taking a second to hold his rapidly beating heart as he leaned against the side of the dresser, breathing hard.



      As soon as he could breathe normally again, Guldo took a moment to close his eyes and think about what he had observed, even with his quick glance. Hey--he was part of the Ginyu Force-- he could observe without even observing, and he could do so even when he was scared out of his mind. But there had been nothing--there had been nothing outside of that window. Not a Kami-damned thing.

      Guldo finally felt his heartbeat return to normal, and taking his hanky out, he wiped off the cold sweat he was not even aware he had broken into, off of his brow, before standing, straightening his clothes. Calmly, he pulled out his pocket watch, and looked at the time. Oh Kami! It was almost curtain--it was way past the time the captain had told him to return for their arranged meeting with Zhelonie! Forget the women he wanted to sleep with! The last thing he wanted to do was to piss off Zhelonie...that man had way too much power for his own good!

      As he left the suite, waiting for the vanishing room, Guldo could not help but grow even more self-pitying as he thought about what circumstances had led him to being here with his head stuck out of a window instead of backstage, tupping with one of the ensemble members. Stupid being the ugliest member of the Ginyu Force. Jeice got to seduce foreign women, and what did Guldo get?

      An over-imagination and a fear of heights it seemed...

~~&~~

      Bulma held herself pressed to the side of the building, a mere four feet away from the window she had just used to escape the room she had been in, forcing herself to breathe in slowly and surely, calming the rising tide of fear she felt clawing at her as she clung to the cold stone of the buildings front.

      From her current, shoe-less position, Bulma could tell one that she had never been more scared in her life, clinging to a side of a building as she tried not to breathe too deeply as every breath pushed her precious millimeters away from the wall she was clinging too. The air was colder, harsher up her, whipping her wig around her, into her eyes, nose, mouth. She was tempted to rip the whole damn thing from her head, but she needed it to walk back to the room she was sharing with Vegeta as she needed it to say in character so she could not get rid of it yet.



      Bulma thought about how she ended up in this position, less than pleased with the situation....

       She had managed to elude the other person in the room, by hiding first under the bed then rolling to the other side of the bed when she sensed they were going to check under the bed. When the footsteps had finally left the room Bulma's earlier excitement on finding the list had completely disappeared and turned into panic. The walls were closing in around her, she felt trapped, like a rat in a maze, or like she had on the boat when she knew that there was nowhere to go.

       What was she doing still in here?! She had found the Kami-damned list--she needed to escape, and she needed to do it fast! There was an unknown quantity, a person, a person in the suite with her. A person who might want to kill her if they found her, who would undoubtedly torture her, maybe rape her, then murder her! She was not a spy! She was a Kami-damned inventor! She was not supposed to die like this--she was supposed to die in her bed, old, surrounded by people who loved her!

       As her thoughts spiraled more and more out of control, she mentally slapped herself. Pull it together Briefs! She imagined Vegeta scolding her, disappointed in her inability to hold it together at the first sign of trouble. He was already against you as a spy, do you want to prove him right?! Or do you want to make him proud of what a good job you are doing?!

       With that, Bulma found the second of calm she needed to think about what her next step would be. Well obviously the first thing she needed to do was get out of this room. Now. Her time for playing spy for tonight was over, and all she wanted, all she needed, was to be back in her room, preferably with a cup of hot chocolate. Not in this deadly spies bedroom!

      Think Bulma, think! She considered the door that the other person had just gone through, but struck that thought from her mind as quickly as it had entered it. She had never heard anyone leave the suite, for one, and for two, she could not risk running into anyone in the hallway in her current state. She could barely remember her real name, let alone a fake story that she could convincingly spout off to people who could seriously hurt her.

       Her eyes landed frantically on the only window in the room, and, decision made, she ran to it, unlocked it and opened it, silently. As she looked out, she saw that the ledge went out maybe a foot from the side of the building, wrapping around the building giving her a convenient place to both walk on and hold onto above her. Still, as she coldly and clinically looked at the ledge, she remembered her earlier moment of panic when she had simply looked out of a window. How much worse would it get when she was actually out there?

       She gave an involuntary shake at that thought, as if she could erase the doubts from her mind, simply from shaking her head. It might seem foolish, but it was enough to get her going, though. Enough for her to realize what she needed to do. Namely--stop acting like this, and get her butt out on the ledge until she was sure the other person had left the room.



       Bulma gave herself a good, fast pep talk, and then grasped the side of the window frame, ready to pull herself out...except she made the mistake of looking down and seeing how far the drop between where she was and the ground was. Shit.

       Bulma pulled her head back in, hyperventilating and considered hiding under the bed again--what was she? Fucking crazy? She could climb trees, not climb around flat buildings-- she was going to die. Maybe the bed would be the safest place for her for now?

       But then she heard soft footfalls on the other side of the bedroom door, and knew that it was now or never. What was she going to do? Stay in the room all night? Hiding, under the bed? That was almost certain death when she got caught--no one would believe her maid story if they found her hiding underneath the bed. Though certain death contingent upon getting caught was nowhere as near as certain a death was if she fell from that height....Stop it Bulma!

       The window was her only option here, and she needed to go with her instinct. She would wait out there until she could be sure the other person had left the suite, and then head back through the hallway back to where Vegeta was waiting for her so she could say her first (and only?) mission as a real spy had been a rousing success. She felt herself grow a bit steadier as she thought about Vegeta--he would not hesitate to climb around the outside of a building, and she could almost see him mocking her for being afraid right now. Right! If there was anything to give her the strength she needed to do this...it was that.

       So Bulma had taken off the high-heeled boots and stockings she was wearing, frowning at them. They were the only shoes she had brought and they were completely unsuitable for gripping the side of a building. But they were a nice pair of shoes...though if it were the shoes or her life, Bulma had to admit it was not a hard choice. She took them off, as well as the silk stockings that would make her feet more slippery against the marble ledge, and considered leaving both of them in the room, and decided upon placing them on the window ledge on the other side she would need to walk on, hoping that they would not fall and hurt anyone. She wondered what would happen if anyone ever discovered her shoes, but she could not take the risk of leaving her shoes behind as evidence, or throwing them out the window (where they might forcibly strike someone, and cause attention to be brought to her). So they would have to be left behind on the ledge, that was that.

       Once that was done, Bulma used her upper body strength and had slowly made her way out of the window, forcing herself to breathe and to not look down as she found firm footing with her bare feet. As she pulled herself out completely, her feet found solid marble, and she grasped the ledge above her with her hands, giving herself a second to breathe, to compose herself as she pressed into the cool brick. It was windier up here than it was on the ground, and chillier too. Her rapidly beating heart sped up, increasing her body temperature, and Bulma took a deep breath. Air smelled nicer up here too, she noticed subconsciously.

      I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

       But she had to close the window before she could even move, and so Bulma let go of the ledge she was holding onto with white knuckles, praying as she tried to quietly move the window back to the closed position. Unfortunately for her, Mother Nature had other ideas, and gravity had taken over the window closing with a loud thunking sound that she was sure even a deaf person could hear. Her heart had stopped for just a moment, but when it started beating triple time, she sprang into action. She could not stand here frozen with the noise she had just made! She needed to move, and she needed to move fucking fast in case the other person in the suite had heard and was coming to investigate. Fucking Mother Nature!

       Bulma began to move quickly, right hand and right foot moving, the left hand and left foot sliding after them, gaining inches with the pace she was going at, but moving surely and slowly along.

       Coming to one of the half-pillars that jutted out of the exposed brick of the building, Bulma gulped and forced herself to use her upper-arm strength (which she had to admit was puny), helped along by the adrenaline surging through her blood to slide around the pillar (where the ledge shrank to a few inches), keeping herself pressed to the cold exterior as she sent prayers off to any deity she could currently think of. With her arms and legs moving in tandem she made it to the other side and she resisted the urge she had to let out a sob of relief as the ledge grew back out to a foot rather than three inches. Oh thank Kami!

       Not a second after she reached the other side of the jutted pillar, she heard the swooping of the window opening again, and Bulma sucked in her breath, pressing herself flat to the wall behind the pillar, praying and hoping that the person had not seen her as she had slid around it. She felt a cold sweat began to drip down her back, and she forced herself to close her eyes, and take some calming breaths. You are the wall. You are the wall, you are the mother-fucking wall and you will kill anyone who dares to fucking disagree with you...

      Yup, her prayers had paid off (or in part), because shortly after she had heard the window closing and the distinctive click of a lock barely a second after they had been opened. Whoever had been on the other side of that window must have had a more crippling fear of heights than she did if they were not even going to stick their head out and get a good look. She doubted she was that hidden behind the pillar.... Instead of feeling relief, though, she felt blind panic setting in as she realized that it was not just the closing of a window she had heard, but the clicking of a lock as well.

      So that was how she found herself in this current predicament, She was currently hanging to the ledge of a building, with no shoes on, dressed in a ridiculous maid costume--and the only window she knew was open was now locked to her. Oh, and the wind had just picked up, bringing some suspicious looking clouds closer and closer to her....

       Fuck.



       Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

~~&~~

A/N: Tune in next week to see just how Bulma gets out of her current predicament, and to get some glimpses into just what the hell is going on in Vegeta's head during this time...

Also, you guys really need to check out CrimsonGriffin's fanart, on deviantart titled Formal Wear- The Dark Duke. It's Bulma in her evening wear from that fateful Vegetasei Ball, and they did an amazing job!! Also, if you have not already, also stop by and check out Sami01's The Dark Duke (also on deviantart) to see Vegeta in Victorian Era garb. These are both amazing artists who have turned my words into real art--I love it!!
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The Dark Duke