Summary: Bulma is further introduced to the complexities of Vegeta's home life after their brush with danger. Separately, the prince must dodge more than one temptation.
7:15 p.m.
Vegeta held his gun close with Bulma crawling closely behind. The hotel penthouse was far enough out of reach to sustain damage from the explosion that rocked the entire neighborhood below. Gunshots had been fired outside, which the prince hoped were from police only.
Bodyguards, a man and woman, charged into the room to rush them out. They picked them up and dragged them away, covering them with sheets.
"Don't worry," the woman said. "This isn't the first time we've seen him desnudo."
"Um, I'm not really concerned about his appearance considering that body parts aren't strewn everywhere," Bulma said. "You get a pass. Thank you so much for being here."
"Sire, are you..."
Vegeta, eyes blazing with deadly fury, handed over his gun to the other guard. "Wrong question. No, I'm not fine! What the hell happened out there?!"
"Two armed men detonated what appears to be a C-4 explosive across the street," the man said. "The building has sustained significant damage. The shots you heard came from our sharpshooters and the police. Both assailants are dead now."
"Oh what a relief," Vegeta said irritably. "I suppose I should be jubilant about these idiots missing their sure-shot to kill us accidentally?"
Unfazed by the prince's sarcasm, the guard checked the guns' bullet clips. "We don't think they knew you were here since there is no official visible motorcade indicating your presence at this hotel, sir. You may not have been the target at all."
Vegeta glanced at the bedroom door. This was too close. Maybe it was a deliberate warning, but for whom? There were competing groups. He and other government officials had at least six more months of negotiations before setting a final date for a countrywide vote on Hegemone's constitution and delivering more policy changes. The citizens need stability.
"Fine, Colla, I will accept that ineffective response for now, but state security investigators must do more than think! We cannot have more attacks in our capitol city. It is bad enough for these incidents to happen elsewhere. I want the heads of whoever did this posthaste!"
Colla nodded, looking past him. "Uh, sire. It might be better to talk without the presence of the lady."
Bulma leaned on wall with the sheet under her chin. She looked away from Vegeta as the female guard escorted her to change clothes. Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as Colla handed over his shirt and pants. He had almost forgotten. This would be one hell of a conversation later.
Bulma's calmness before re-entering room surprised the other guard, Califula. Vegeta approached when she made eye contact afterward. "You can go in there. Ms. Brief is quiet, but she doesn't appear to be in shock."
"Good." The prince still wondered, though, because now Bulma had endured a second trauma. "Take her to the mansion when I leave. Have the attendants prepare a bedroom on the east wing. See to it that the queen's personal assistant greets her promptly and provides whatever she wants."
"Yes, sire."
Vegeta observed Bulma briefly before bending on his knees in front. She was seated on the bed, flanked by her travel bags. Her hands and arms were folded protectively across her hips.
"Care to talk?"
She shook her head. "Not as much right now."
"Understood," he said, taking her hand. "Califula will escort you to the mansion."
"You… put a gun put in this room?"
"I had two."
Bulma shut her eyes. "Christ, Vegeta."
"Can you just trust me for now?"
"You're walking on thin ice with that, buddy," she said, moving his hand. "I know the political situation here has been tense, but this? Why didn't you tell me?"
Vegeta felt defensive but kept a straight face. "Bulma, I am rarely without a gun now despite having guards. Nevertheless, I must meet with my officials about what happened. Several people were hurt."
"Okay."
He kissed her forehead as they stood. "We will… talk more. I promise. I wanted you to focus less on my troubles after we spoke earlier, considering what happened with Zeus."
"Bad move, and that's bullshit," Bulma replied. "I can walk and chew gum at the same time. For better or worse, we knew we would eventually sleep together from the minute l left the plane. You thought ahead - and my thoughts belong to me, not you. I will not repeat myself about that. Now go handle business. I understand."
Vegeta looked into her eyes again, nodded, and left. She wasn't terrified. Many would've been, but she was "from the city." New Yorkers weren't delicate flowers for well-known reasons. Watching the prince leave after what happened was surreal, though.
"Ms. Brief, I am sorry," Califula said as they exited from the rear of the hotel. "What happened today is not representative of who we are as a country."
"Thank you," Bulma said uneasily. She recalled numerous times politicians said "we are better than this" when bad things happened. The remaining question: "Better than what?" What choices would the royal family and others make to uphold that ideal? Where would they compromise? Zeus had gotten himself into trouble, and she wanted to know more, but it was time to leave Hegemone.
Cell phone in hand, Vegeta puffed on his cigar. "I am well, mother. We are arriving at the government headquarters shortly."
"You are alive," Danae said. Her voice was clipped. "That does not mean you are well."
"Where is the king? He may need to make a statement to the regional ministers as well."
Vegeta's cool demeanor didn't deceive his mother. Some part of her son felt disappointed that her husband hadn't contacted him, even if Vegeta didn't fully realize it. Nappa had, of course. "The king knows. We were briefed by security. They say you weren't the target. Do you believe that?"
"If I were the target, then obviously someone gave the perpetrators terrible intelligence about my location."
Frustrated with her son's defensive flippancy, Danae activated a switch at her desk. "Turn on your video screen right now, Prince Vegeta, and do not leave that car until I finish speaking - and extinguish the cigar that I know you are smoking. You will show me the respect that I am due."
Vegeta straightened himself in the seat. "Yes, my queen. I…apologize."
Danae stood before the video screen. She was tired, but the point had to be made. "I suggest that you be more careful with your…dalliances. What is this woman to you?"
"It is not what you think."
"Oh, no? I have held my tongue long enough. What are you envisioning with this divorcee American fashion designer, some kind of British fairy tale? This is not 1936. You are not Prince Edward and she isn't Wallis Simpson and you will not abdicate the throne. Perhaps you might be taking advantage of Ms. Brief's grief with whatever you're doing together. Have you considered that?"
Attempting to conceal his growing anger, Vegeta looked down. "Stop it, mother. You have gone too far with me. Nappa and I have been through this. My childhood ended decades ago the last time I checked."
"And Ms. Brief is staying in my home – the royal mansion. I agreed only because of these terrible events today. That said, you have never brought any woman here formally. If you have intentions, then be clear, both for your sake and hers. You are facing down responsibilities that require focus and the right kind of support from those around you."
"I do not understand the problem," Vegeta said, interlacing his fingers. Because Danae was questioning without attempting to listen, he would simply observe. "Tarble said you wanted me to marry a nice girl."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Vegeta! Don't toy with me. You didn't have to bring her to Hegemone. There's been enough gossip about you both in the U.S., as if you think I wouldn't find out. Mr. Brickey's affairs would've been handled properly regardless, just like our diplomats did with his companions. What do you think will happen when this news really gets out? You will be accused of playing favorites."
"Ms. Brief has been kind to me, mother. I am merely returning the kindness. You usually give me grief for being ill-tempered. I don't expect you to greet her if you aren't up for it today."
Danae waved him off. "Nonsense," she said, pausing to catch her breath. "Nonsense. We have spoken long enough. Go inside."
"As you wish." Vegeta hesitated before leaving the car. Danae sensed his concern. Her health right then mattered less, she felt.
"Now is not the time, son." She shut off the screen and sat down.
"Queen Danae, may I enter?"
She sighed. "Come, Iris."
"Ms. Brief has arrived."
"Yes, I figured that. I want her settled within an hour and a half. I am not feeling well and need time to recover. This has been a difficult day for us all."
Both women turned abruptly as a guard rushed into the room to activate a side door. "Let's go. There is no direct threat to the mansion, but…"
"Stop." Danae raised her cane. The guard appeared composed, indicating that the king and her sons probably weren't in immediate danger either. "Young man, if there is no urgent threat to me, then I am not moving. Just say what happened."
"Another bomb went off, ma'am."
Danae's eyes met his. "But… Vegeta and I just finished talking."
"It happened on the other side of the city," the guard said, checking his phone. "Unfortunately, this definitely could be the work of sophisticated terrorists. These events often come in twos or threes. I learned this during military training."
"Anyone who manages to bomb and kill people, regardless of the method, is sophisticated according to my definition," Danae said.
Frowning, the guard rubbed the back of his neck. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to say this, but your nephew Raditz may have been one of those hurt at the second site. That's the report my superiors are sending now."
Danae paused, resting her hands on top of her cane. "Let me know when you can confirm." The guard looked curiously at her, thinking that she would be more upset. Then he remembered being told of the woman's toughness when faced with difficult situations. She could be a different person.
"You should rest now," Iris said. "You will be in better shape to discuss these problems with the rest of the family afterward, don't you think?"
Danae exhaled, deciding to disregard the suggestion. "Young man, does our guest know?"
"We had another guard posted protectively at Ms. Brief's location, yes."
"Bring her here, and make it fast. She might be unnerved. I don't care which one of you does it. Also, have someone prepare a tray of pastries and tea."
She thought briefly about Raditz as her cat crawled into her lap. She probably could have shown more emotion. Oh well.
"Maybe we were fortunate today. We'll see."
Nappa paced the floor in the executive meeting room while senior military and internal security officials, all seated, silently watched him. "Where are your minds, people?"
Vegeta almost seemed too calm after entering the room. "Quiet. This is my job now, until the king arrives."
"Yes, sir." Nappa bowed slightly as everyone stood. He walked in front of him, catching a quick glance. He did this habitually to see if Vegeta had been drinking, which the prince knew. One couldn't smell vodka on the drinker but the eyes told everything, even with a functional alcoholic.
"I am well, general," Vegeta said, pouring a glass of water. "I told you. No scratches." His daring, defiant smirk reassured Nappa that no alcohol had been consumed.
Another man leaned forward to shake hands. "And we're all glad to hear it, sir."
Vegeta didn't return the greeting. "Don't be an ass-kisser, Broly. You are interior minister. Why are we behind the curve here? You mean to tell me no one had any information about these threats?"
The man's face turned red. "That's unfair, sir! You know our intelligence resources are stretched. We're still reorganizing to work differently. You cannot expect miracles considering the changes you're trying to make to the way Hegemone is governed."
"Unfair?" Vegeta slammed his hands on the table. "Tell that to the families of those who died! Do you think I would've spent time pleading our case before the entire fucking world if not to receive help? You do whatever it takes to communicate better with our allies on intelligence - or maybe Nappa should take your job and direct the reorganization!"
"Son, why don't you have a seat?" King Vegeta entered slowly, looking more casually dressed than the prince in his beige wool sweater and black pants. "You can continue drawing blood later. We all know you like the taste of it, being a proud Saiyan. Give them something to look forward to."
Typical, Vegeta thought. The old man dithered like a deluded Roman emperor as they faced danger, and yet he was having a pissing contest. "You are right, father," he replied, flashing a smile through angry, bared teeth, " but you do a much better job than I could ever attempt."
Nappa gave both men a warning look. He wouldn't allow their personal hostility to beat down everyone when they needed support most. "Gentlemen, may I suggest that we give the group a break? I want to speak with you privately."
Vegeta shut the door and sat on the opposite end of the table. "What is it, Nappa? Broly deserved exactly what he got. He is too busy trying to cover his ass to be efficient. I could have been much harsher."
The king raised his eyebrow. "Perhaps you should rethink putting the fear of god in others and work on your own legion of faults, of which there are many. You have performed admirably, but…"
"Tch. Oh shut up and stop being a jealous fool," Vegeta said dismissively. "You know damn well this is not just about me."
The old man shrugged. "Nappa, perhaps he will listen to you, hmm? You are… closer to him now than I am."
I am fed up with you both, quite frankly, Nappa thought. "We received word before you both arrived about a second bombing at the old palace. Raditz had been with a group there, and he was injured."
"Is he near death?" Vegeta asked, removing the lint from his shirt. "Oh, come on. Why are you staring at me? I asked a question. This is a tough time. Let us not be overly sentimental. Who knows what else might happen?"
"He is alive," Nappa said. "Disappointed?"
"Okay, Nappa, so investigators will also focus on whether he was targeted as well."
Exasperated, the general rubbed his head. "Of course. What I worry about is whether Raditz or his supporters will say you were behind it."
"Have you lost your senses, man?!" The king shook his head furiously. "Those two have their differences, but…"
"He is right," Vegeta said, interrupting him. "You are not blind to your nephew's nastiness. You chose to be. Wait and see how long before the rumors begin. If that's the game now, so be it."
The king turned to Nappa as Vegeta left. "You have a job to do, general."
"And so do you, sir."
The king snorted. "I could have gotten rid of you long ago."
"But you didn't," Nappa said, bowing. "It's funny how Vegeta says the same thing. Now then, if you will excuse me, I have a job to do." He soon spotted the prince with a woman outside of the interior minister's office. Recognizing her, he stood back to watch secretly.
"If I may have a moment of your time," she said, flipping her long, dark hair. "We have not spoken directly in a while, Prince Vegeta."
"Maybe that's for a reason," Vegeta said, turning to leave. "Encourage Broly to work harder, because he apparently doesn't know how to manage you, Arestis. You seem to have plenty of free time." Feeling her hand on his back, he flinched. "Touch me like that in public again, and you won't have a job."
"Let's have a drink," Arestis replied, smiling seductively. "For me, please. This is a long day. I still keep vodka in my office for special guests. That's still your favorite, isn't it?"
"Your majesty."
"Come in, Ms. Brief. I apologize for not standing. I am not feeling my best. Have a seat, please."
The first thing Bulma noticed was the décor. The study was modern, fashionable. Contemporary art lined the walls. The floor rug pattern matched different furniture pieces. She also noticed Danae's cane. "Oh, ma'am I understand, especially with what happened today."
Danae handed her tea and a napkin. "Please accept my condolences over the loss of your friend. I want you to know that you are safe here. You seem to be holding up well despite your ordeal at the hotel."
"Thank you, and yes, I am comfortable. Everyone has been kind since I arrived."
"Obviously Vegeta thinks highly of you. Now tell me, how in the world did you achieve that? My son can be an, um, acquired taste."
Bulma almost dropped her cup. "Pardon, ma'am?"
She had felt less trapped at the hotel.
