Hey everybody! This is my third DBZ fanfic attempt — the other two failed miserably — but they say the third time's a charm! Well, I hope so. Anyway, I wanted to make a note here so that people don't get all on my case about it. I don't know exactly how Capsule Corps. works — that is, I think Bulma and family live in the same place Bulma works in — but I put Bulma's lab and office in a completely different building. The Briefs (according to me) live in a normal house like everyone else. Well, it's a comparatively nicer house than everyone else's, since they are rich. Yeah. Oh, and just so you're not wondering: Trunks is 17, Bra is 12, Pan is 12, Goten is 16, and all the adults are wicked old. XD

Disclaimer: I disclaim all rights to DBZ.

oOo

1. Earthquakes

"What do you mean the tests haven't come back yet!" cried Bulma. "I need those tests today!" She slammed her fist onto her desk in frustration. "We won't be able to do any more experimenting until they get here!" She turned to look at the lab assistant who had brought the news. He was cowering in the doorway of her office; Bulma relaxed slightly, but inside she was still fuming. "When can I expect them?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Uh," stammered the assistant, "w-well, they said they could possibly have them in by Monday…"

"Damn," hissed Bulma. There was an uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by the sound of a jackhammer in the parking lot outside. After about a minute's worth of irritating buzzing, Bulma touched her temple and groaned. "Thanks, David," she said, finally. "I guess I can wait three more days…" David breathed an audible sigh of relief and ducked out of the office. Bulma could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall as he raced to the stairs.

She turned back to her desk where she was faced with an enormous pile of paperwork. She sighed as she listened to the hum of the construction work outside. "It's gonna be a long day," she muttered.

oOo

Three hours later, Bulma stuck one last piece of paper into a manila folder that she then shoved into a filing drawer behind her. She slammed it shut and glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to three. Good, she thought to herself. I've got time to pick Bra up from school. She pushed her chair back, grabbed her purse and briefcase, and left her office, feeling slightly less weighed-down.

However, Bulma's afternoon was going to be far from pleasant. As she exited Capsule Corps. and stepped out onto the black top of the parking lot, she was met with an earsplitting drum of jackhammers and power tools working on the sidewalk. To get to her car, she was forced to walk right alongside the noise for five minutes, after which time she was thoroughly aggravated. When she finally reached her silver Mercedes, she found to her dismay that her meter had run out half an hour ago, and a small yellow slip of paper was poking out at her from behind her windshield wiper. She snatched it up without even looking at it and shoved it into her pocket. She hit the "unlock" button on her keys, opened the driver's door, and slid inside.

Bulma pulled out of the parking lot and turned on the radio. She flipped through every channel she got, but none of them was playing any kind of music. With a groan, she shut it off as she got onto the highway. She hadn't been driving for more than five minutes when a red Ferrari shot by her in the right lane. She hunched her shoulders slightly and scowled at the back of the car, but, not ten seconds later, a yellow Mustang passed her on the left and accelerated to catch up to the red car. Bulma sighed. Road rage, she thought. Happens to the best of them. Ah, well, they'll be gone in a few seconds…

Unfortunately, before they could disappear from the vicinity, the yellow car caught up to the red car and threatened to pass it. The Ferrari swerved to the right to block it off, and the Mustang crashed right into it. Both cars skidded to a halt across the road, blocking all three lanes of traffic. Bulma had to slam on her brakes to avoid hitting them, as did all the vehicles around her. Alarmed, she grabbed her cell phone and started to dial 911. Just then, though, the drivers of the cars got out. They were two college kids, and they were laughing and high-fiveing each other. Apart from being a little discombobulated, neither appeared to be hurt in any way.

Bulma glowered at them. There was no way anyone was going to move until the tow trucks got there, and who knew how long that could take? Resignedly, she shut off her car and put her head on the steering wheel.

oOo

At long last, Bulma pulled wearily into the driveway. The lack of cars in the garage indicated that Vegeta was the only one home. She shut off her car and stepped out. To her horror, she discovered a six-foot scratch in the silver paint on one side of the Mercedes. In her frustration at the parking ticket, she hadn't even noticed it! Too tired to really care, though, she made a mental note to take it to the garage, and she made her way inside.

It was almost four o' clock. Bulma came into the kitchen and glanced at the answering machine. There were six unheard messages. I'll listen to them later, she thought. She went upstairs, passing the gravity room on the way. As she had expected, she could hear her husband training inside. In her own bedroom, she changed into some more comfortable clothes then came back downstairs to start dinner.

She pulled a large chicken out of the refrigerator and turned on the oven. As she was getting out some spices to season it with, the front door banged open and shut, and Trunks sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hi, Trunks," Bulma called to him. Trunks ignored her, and, dropping a pile of crumpled yellow papers onto the counter, he headed for the living room.

"Hold it," said his mother, putting the chicken aside for a moment to examine the papers. "What are all these?" she asked, suspicious. She smoothed one out and read it quickly. Her eyes grew wide. "Speeding tickets?" she demanded. Trunks yawned. Bulma riffled through the rest of the papers. "Five!"

Trunks looked up at her, almost annoyed. "What?" he drawled. "It's not like you can't afford them…"

Bulma blinked in surprise. "Me? Trunks, I'm not paying for—"

But the teenager had already retired to the living room and was flopped lazily on the couch with the TV blaring in front of him. Bulma made to go after him, but just as she started to move, the video phone started to ring off the hook. She hesitated for a moment, considering her options, then chose the phone. She could deal with Trunks later.

"Accept call," said Bulma to the phone. The screen blinked to life, and Bulma was presented with a picture of a dark-haired woman, smiling brightly.

"Bulma!" cried Chi Chi. "Great, you're there! Listen, I need to ask a favor."

"Sure, Chi, what's up?" Bulma tried not to sound as tired as she was.

"Well, we've been having some problems over here with the electricity. Yesterday it was the television, the day before that it was the phone lines, the day before that it was the lighting… The electrician said he'd be over two days ago, but so far nobody's shown—"

"Chi Chi, what do you need?"

Chi Chi grinned apologetically. "It's the stove. All our cooking appliances are busted, in fact. I had to throw everything out of the fridge. There's nothing to cook; it looks like the family and I are gonna be eating over your place tonight."

Bulma could feel her jaw drop slightly. "You're joking, Chi!"

Her friend frowned. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"I just don't think—" Bulma started, but she was interrupted when the other phone, the cordless, started to ring loudly. She checked the caller ID. It was Bra. It suddenly dawned on her that she had never picked her daughter up from school! "Chi Chi, I'm gonna have to call you back," she said hurriedly. "It's Bra, I forgot to pick her up..."

"Oh, no need to call back," said Chi Chi happily. "It's all worked out, isn't it? We'll be over at seven. See you then!" With that, the screen went blank. Bulma stared at it for a moment before the cordless rang again. She hit the "talk" button and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Mommyyyy!"

Bulma nearly dropped the phone at her daughter's earsplitting wail. "Bra, honey," she began. "I'm sorry I didn't pick you up, it's just that I got caught in traffic, and I forgot—"

"You forgot about me, Mommy! I was here all alone! Nobody could give me a ride, and I've just been sitting here and sitting here! I could have been raped, or killed, or… or even mugged!" Bra was obviously in tears and sounded absolutely pitiful over the phone.

Bulma sighed. "Look, sweetheart, I don't think I can pick you up right now. I've got to go out to the store and get food for dinner. The Sons are coming over, and—"

Bra sniffed. "I didn't know that," she said.

"We kind of just made plans…"

"Well, I can't just stay here!" cried Bra.

"You're only a few miles away, honey," said Bulma. "Can't you walk home? It would be so much easier—"

But Bra would have none of that. "Noooooo!" she wailed. "Mommy, what if something happened to me? It's gonna be dark soon, and all the crooks come out at night…"

"Bra, it's four o' clock…"

"…And besides, I just bought these shoes, and they're not made for walking! I'll wear them out or twist an ankle or something, and then I'd be lying on the side of the road, completely helpless, with nobody around, and what if my phone runs out of batteries, and I can't call for help, and, ohhhhh, Mommy, please don't make me walk!" Bra started to bawl over the phone, and Bulma winced.

"Okay, Bra, okay," Bulma said finally. "I guess I can come pick you up. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Just like that, Bra stopped crying. "Okay, Mommy, thanks!" she said cheerfully. "Oh, and Mommy?"

"Yes, Bra?"

"You really shouldn't invite people over at the last minute like that. You know, in case something like this happens. Okay, bye!"

Bra hung up, and Bulma was left with several thoughts running through her head. "I didn't invite them!" she snapped at the dead receiver. She hung up the phone almost violently and, on a hunch, played back the messages on the answering machine. Sure enough, each one was from Bra. She deleted them, shut off the oven, grabbed her keys and headed for the door. She passed Trunks in the living room. "I'm picking up your sister," she informed him. "I'll deal with you when I get back!"

Trunks only scoffed. Bulma turned on her heel and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

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Okay, that's it for chapter one! Tell me if you like it. Lots of reviews, please!

- I am the Tennis Pirate.