. O .
Son Chi Chi married an alien, birthed two half-alien children, and was widowed twice over by her thirtieth birthday. She'd seen and experienced enough to fill several lifetimes. Yet as with most experiences Chi Chi had when hanging out with Bulma, she suspended her fairly solid grasp of reality in favor of the altered reality the Briefs tended to subscribe to. Most people didn't stay in hotel rooms that were larger than the Sons' entire house, but the Briefs did. Most people didn't get private masseurs who came to their rooms, but the Briefs did. Most people didn't have the head chef of the hotel's five star restaurant present them with the dinner menu and personally take their orders to be delivered to their room after the massages, but the Briefs did.
The masseurs finished up and left as discretely as they'd arrived and Chi Chi couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such complete relaxation. Bulma was across the room, sipping champagne and eating one plump and perfect strawberry after another from a gold-plated bowl while flipping through an electronics catalog. Her mother had retreated to take a bath in her en suite, larger than Chi Chi's entire bedroom at home. Chi Chi herself lounged on the couch near the door, halfway between dozing and daydreaming of having her own masseur on call.
Bulma stretched out and wandered over to the bar area to refill her champagne. "You sure you don't want any, Chi?"
"I'll wait for dinner."
"Where is that room service, anyway?"
At that, a knock sounded at the door.
"Ah, not too bad," Bulma said with a wink. Chi Chi stood and stretched, readjusting the pale yellow, hotel-provided kimono that matched the sunny accents in the impeccably detailed room.
Bulma let the attendant in, a tall, shapely woman clad in the standard uniform Chi Chi had seen on all the hotel staff so far. She pushed a cart loaded down with fine china and serving ware and Bulma thought nothing about waving her in the direction of the table. But Chi Chi, perhaps unaccustomed to the lavish treatment or catching some other subtle clue, eyed the woman closer. Her movements were too sure, too intentional and not with the delicate touch the other attendants displayed. So it was as she finished setting the table, Chi Chi was watching. Internal alarms blazing, Chi Chi moved when the attendant did, yelling out a warning as she grabbed a pillow to throw at the woman when she pulled a gun.
Her aim held true and the pillow hit the gun enough to knock the first unexpectedly quiet shot aimed at Bulma off course. Chi Chi kept moving, grabbing a vase that she used to throw at the attendant. Undeterred, the woman dodged and changed her aim, letting off a couple more shots at Chi Chi. She sidestepped them with ease, they weren't bullets at all but some sort of dart, all the while drawing closer to the threat. Bulma had wisely taken cover, enough out of the line of danger for Chi Chi not to worry as she came within striking distance. The attendant gave her a slightly shocked look that she'd gotten so close unscathed, but didn't back down, even as Chi Chi knocked the gun away. The woman returned a not-wild punch, and a quick and not completely one-sided scuffle ensued.
"Ung!" The attendant groaned as Chi Chi nonetheless secured the upper hand, forcing her face tighter against the table and putting pressure on her now-dislocated shoulder, arms locked behind her back. "Ah…"
"What the hell do you want?" Chi Chi growled coldly. "Why are you threatening my friend?"
. O .
An hour into their spar, two hours after Trunks and Goten had dropped off to sleep, a wail pierced through the gravity room, knocking both combatants out of their concentrated focus. Vegeta's slip came in the form of missing Gohan's roundhouse and taking a clip on the shoulder that, in the enhanced gravity, sent him reeling to the ground. Gohan's focus broke as he came out of the maneuver, landing hard on his right foot.
Vegeta recovered first and killed the gravity, and they both waited in silence, staring at the vid screen monitoring the nursery that he'd turned on prior to the start of their spar. A held breath later and another cry.
Gohan hopped up, but putting weight on his foot brought a hiss of pain that caught Vegeta's attention. A third cry sounded, followed by the second baby joining in.
"It's okay, I got it," Gohan said before flying out and back towards the main building.
Vegeta cleaned up and secured the system amidst the boys' wails over the monitor. Just as he was finishing, Gohan entered, hovering over the crib. "Shh… there now, you're okay, Trunks. It's alright, come on, let it all out."
Vegeta snapped off the vid feed and powered down the rest of the room. He knew something was up the moment he got to the still-open outer door. The energies were all wrong.
"Holy shit, Ray! Was that a UFO?!"
The rustling and voices just beyond the hedge didn't hurt, either.
"Oh my god, will you shut up, Archer? We're on a freaking stakeout!" A second voice hissed in ever increasing volume.
"But what was that… that flying thing?"
"It looked like a person."
"A person whose feet never touched the ground."
"This place is a tech goldmine."
"Levitation, Ray. Even Krieger can't pull that kind of shit."
"I wouldn't call Krieger the penultimate innovator of our time."
"Heh, penultimate fetishist, maybe."
"Shut up, I think I hear something."
Vegeta had to give it to them, when they did stop yapping, the pair of intruders blended into the environment much more believably. He carefully kept his movements causal and forced himself not to react to the tells they gave out as he retraced Gohan's path to the house. Once inside, he set the locks, then grinned all the way up to the bathroom to shower. The night just got far more interesting.
. O .
"I'm going to literally kill Cyril," the woman muttered under her breath. "He didn't have any intel on a female bodyguard."
Bulma emerged from her shelter with a laugh. "That's new. Damn, Chi Chi, you are a badass."
"Check her pockets," Chi Chi urged, but Bulma was already patting the woman down. She uncovered two more guns, a cell phone, knife, and even an extra clip of ammo tucked into her garter belt.
"Hmm… these aren't common here," Bulma said, dismantling the guns. "American?"
She emptied the chambers and pocketed the rounds before fiddling with the phone. "Oh yeah. Standard burner model."
Bulma checked her own phone. "Damn. No reception." She turned to the attendant, eyes narrowed in accusation. "Did you put a signal blocker up?"
The woman pursed her mouth and said nothing.
"Well, how many more are there of you?"
Still nothing.
"Oh, let her up, Chi Chi, dear," Bulma's mother said from her door. "They're more cooperative when they're not all… you know…"
"How often does this happen?" Chi Chi exclaimed, eyeing Bulma for consent that she agreed.
"I've lost track," Bulma said with a wave of her hand. "Though this might be the first time it's involved me since Trunks was born."
"We could go downstairs or just call the front desk, but they may have been compromised already," her mother added. "Best just to wait it out?"
Bulma nodded first at her mother, then more reassuringly at Chi Chi. "If there's something going down at home, Vegeta will show up after it's all over. He can't help himself."
. O .
Archer and Ray remained silent as a second figure sauntered quite normally to the main building. As soon as he entered, Ray stuffed his night goggles back in his bag and pulled out a contraption Krieger must have rigged up. Archer prepped for the next part of the mission by pulling out a flask from his own bag.
"Right, what next?"
"Cyril got hold of schematics for the air vents," Ray said. "There's an access point just beyond that section of trees."
They made for the building on light feet, stopping at a tiny grate set into the wall. Ray slid Krieger's device in one corner and in a couple of seconds, a little electronic chirp sounded, the gate popping open enough for Ray to pry his fingers underneath.
They just barely fit, sliding through on their stomachs. The crawl felt endless, but Archer didn't mind. Out of all of them, save Lana, Ray was the easiest to work with. The two didn't have the same chemistry as him and Lana, but they complimented each other. Or, at least, Ray let Archer be Archer without much fuss. Most of the time.
. O .
Goten quieted down with a bottle of water, succumbing to sleep as quickly as he'd been awakened. Trunks was still fussing, grouchy and obviously exhausted, but he refused to give into Gohan's gentle cradle when Vegeta entered the nursery, hair wet from a shower and the folded-up playpen in its travel bag slung over one shoulder. Trunks reached out with a small pout and Vegeta did relieve Gohan of the boy, but only to place him back in his crib. Trunks screwed up his face, on the verge of another fit, but Vegeta shot him a glare and with a firm "no, son," the baby stilled.
Vegeta set the playpen down and produced a roll of bandages, then pointed to the dresser and waited for Gohan to settle on it. He extended his foot with a wince. He'd been sparring barefoot, as usual, which meant he didn't have to worry about prying off a shoe, but it was already bruised and swelling. Vegeta inspected his foot from a few angles, probing with rough but intentional fingers.
"You displaced a few things."
"Yeah," Gohan agreed.
"Ready?"
"Go ahead."
With swift adjustments, Vegeta popped a couple of bones back into alignment then rechecked ankle movement. He then neatly wrapped Gohan's foot.
"Thanks, Vegeta," Gohan said once he was all patched up.
"Your mother would give me hell otherwise," he said offhandedly, picking up the playpen and Trunks and motioning for Gohan to do the same to his brother. "And don't thank me yet. Training's not over for the night."
. O .
"Holy shit snacks! They made it in!" Pam exclaimed as she surveyed Archer and Ray from the edge of the property line.
"Really? Wow. I didn't think that would work."
"Weren't you the one who dug up the intel on this place?" Cheryl asked.
"Yes, but- didn't you read the dossier?"
"Not all of it," Pam said with a snort.
"Literally no one who has attempted to infiltrate this place has succeeded. Archer has a better unintentional success rate than that."
"So… if they're taking the vents to the secret tunnel, where do we go?"
Cyril stood up and stretched, hefting his mission bag to his shoulder. "Through the front door."
. O.