Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dark Duke ❯ The Vegetsei Ball Omnibus ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

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

A/N: You ever just start writing, and you can't stop? Yeah, this was how that chapter was--I could not stop once I started (hence the fastness of my posting a new chapter). All of your good will towards my last chapter helped, of course, so big, big thanks to all of my readers and reviewers! I love you guys.

I especially love my new beta reader lilpumpkingirl! If you were wondering why this chapter was so much smoother and easier to read, all thanks go to her! She seriously understands I have a penchant for comma's, and she tried to help me wean off them (I'll get better, I promise!)

And now for something completely different (to quote my favorite sketch show of all time)...

Chapter Twelve: The Vegetasei Ball Omnibus

Tsesarevich Frieza was acting calm, more than his usual unusual calm, causing the men who were with him in the room to feel nervous, more nervous than usual. Those who had traveled the vast distances from Moscow to the French border of the English Channel with Frieza were among those who could claim to know him best (though one would be foolish to claim that they knew Frieza), and they knew now, looking at him at the head of the long dining table they were sitting at, that they should be nervous. Even if he was only quietly surveying the glass of wine he was holding, his black lips pursing as he twirled the glass, studying the dark liquid inside of it.

Frieza's eyes were unfocused as he swirled the liquid in the fine stemware, before he brought it to his nose, took a sniff, then delicately sipped the liquid, his lips curling upwards, as he said in a voice that always sent shivers down the backs of those closest to him, "Ah, yes--a pre-war merlot. Quite excellent, and quite expensive." His eyes drifted to the nervous man who was standing at the entranceway to the dining room, giving him a nod, as he spoke in a fluent French, "My thanks, monsieur--a most excellent wine. I do not hope you were saving it for anything."

The man, a high-ranking member of the new French republic who had indeed been saving that wine for the fiftieth anniversary of his and his wife's marriage (a mere four years away), was smart enough to give a bow to the Russian soon-to-be Tsar who had commandeered his palatial coastal mansion. The man never made eye contact as he spoke, "Of course my liege." He stayed bowed longer than he ever had for the man he had hailed as Emperor, Napoleon (God rest his immortal soul) before he looked back up. "If the Tsesarevich has no further need of me...?"

Frieza slowly took another sip, sensing the man's desire to leave (how could he not, when the stench of anxiety infected his royal nostrils), and kept his eyes narrowed for a few long moments, before he flicked his hand. "Leave us. I have things to discuss with my advisors." The man did not have to be told twice, and Frieza smirked at the way he ran from the room, glad to know that even those who lived thousands of miles from his base in Moscow knew to fear him. What good was it being a member of the royal household of Russia, if one did not commander respect and fear everywhere one went?

Frieza snapped himself from the momentary reprieve he had let himself have when basking in the glow of his own power, and turned instead, to the men who joined him at the long formal table. His eyes, an auburn shade of brown, flashed red, causing all of the advisors in the room, who had not been stupid enough to think that Frieza's momentary distraction by a vintage wine had caused him to forget about them, to tense, their eyes at table level.

"Dodoria?"

The only man not currently sitting at the table with the rest of the advisors, a hefty man, with blotchy pink skin that was always sweaty, one of the only two men who never frowned in Frieza's presence (as they had no need too, what with being in the prized spot of Frieza's left and right hands), came forward from his position slightly behind Frieza's left shoulder. "Yes, your Tsesarevich?"

"What was the one thing I said before we left Moscow? When we started this journey?"

Dodoria, sensing what was coming, smirked, his enjoyment of another's torture almost as great as that of the man he called lord. "You said that they...." He pointed to the quivering men, as if there would be another they, "...needed to ensure that we would be in England by the night of Zhelonie's first assignment, or that someone in the room would die by your hand."

Frieza's lip turned up, a wicked smile that no person alive would call happy. "Yes, I do believe that is exactly what I said Dodoria. Excellent." The other men at the table gave the hefty man a side-eye, all knowing that Dodoria was lapping up his solo time at his master's side like a puppy, eager for attention, and they all detested (and feared) him for getting such treatment. Dodoria, comfortable in his knowledge that whatever happened, he was safe, only smirked, gave a nod, then took a step back to enjoy the show he was sure to see.

Frieza placed the glass of wine he had been sipping on the table, before he stood and began to stroll down the side of the large dining room table that held his twenty most trusted advisors. His voice chilling as he persisted, "And yet, here I find myself, on the eve of the Duke of Vegetasei's ball, a sure to be momentous event for many reasons-- and am I in England?"

He waited a pause, as if expecting an answer (an answer no one would be foolish to give) before he continued, his quiet voice bringing an edge to it. "No I am not--I'M IN GODDAMN FRANCE!" Frieza's voice exploded, causing everyone at the table's back to stiffen further, their shoulder's to their ears as they listened to their tyrants tirade, "WOULD SOMEONE CARE TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS IS?!"

Frieza had stopped at the other end of the table, his palms face down on the gleaming mahogany, his shoulders heaving as he took a deep breath. Not a single man at the table dared breathe, though they all hoped that someone would be stupid enough, just foolish enough, to think they could actually answer the Tsesarevich's rhetorical que--

"Your Tsesarevich, no one could have predicted the storm we encountered while crossing the Alps--the fact that we are only a day behind sched--"

Whatever the foolish man had been about to say was lost, when in a lightning fast moment, the Tsesarevich flung a knife he had hidden up his sleeve, launching it right into the heart of the advisor who had tried to reason with the Tsesarevich. Dodoria was the only man who smiled at this (even if he was disappointed the death was quick and painless), though there was not a single man in the room who was not glad to see the Tsesarevich kill the man. Better him than them...

Frieza--having ended the life of a man, smirked again, his pleasure obvious in the quirk of his dark lips. "Well now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, we have some planning to do." The other advisors all nodded, knowing that their lives were spared for another day, even if working with the Tsesarevich was more hazardous to their health then being in the frontlines of open warfare.

Frieza continued his trek back to the seat he had originally left, pausing only long enough to pull his knife out of the man's chest, cleaned it in one smooth movement on the dead man's cravat, before moving on. Frieza settled with a happy sigh as he grabbed the truly delicious glass of wine he had been partaking in, taking a slow sip. "Zhelonie is infiltrating the British ton as we speak, and I need to ensure that I am there so that when he puts my ingenuous plan into motion, it will ensure nothing short of the total collapse of the British empire..."

~~&~~

Goku shoved what must have been his fiftieth pastry in his mouth, as he sat at the table that was in the center of the kitchen that had become his over these past few weeks of living in Saiyan Hall, his eyes took in the rapid movement of everyone around him. He chewed slowly, swallowing hard, knowing that everyone was in such a hurry for him, and feeling slightly guilty about it.

He had not had a single servant until he had joined the Briefs family, and it still awed him to see how hardworking people could become for such a major event. A major event being thrown for him! An event being thrown for him which he found quite ridiculous (but that was an observation he would mostly keep to himself).

He reached for another powdered sugar covered delicacy, but found his hand being smacked by a wooden spoon, a rushed voice scolding him, "Aye--no more of those for ye, ye hear me? I have five hundred other people to feed tonight, and I don need my food being eaten by one man!"

Goku smiled sheepishly, "Sorry Chi-Chi."

Chi-Chi, who had been working harder than everyone else, frowned at him as she paused, putting down a bowl she had just been whipping something in. Her frown deepening as she took in his appearance, "The Duke will have my hide if he sees ye in yer finery covered in powdered sugar! Come here, so I can dust ye off!"

Goku stood, his smile all the more guilty as he walked over so Chi-Chi could dust him off with her pastry towel, knowing that as the head chef she should be busier than anyone else in the kitchen. Instead, she took time out of her schedule, even when it was at its busiest, to worry about him, to put him first--it was nice. He had never had someone put him first since his grandfather Gohan had passed away.

Sure, the Briefs had never put him last, or made him feel neglected--but they had other things to always worry about than him. His sister and father always had their work, while his mother...well, he loved Bunny to death, but everyone knew that her priorities were more than a little screwy, and Goku did not hold it against her if she did not worry much about her son. In fact, the last thing Goku wanted was anyone worrying about him--he could take care of himself!

Still, it was gratifying to have someone who actually put his welfare above everyone and everything else. It made him feel warm... Ever since he had invaded Chi-Chi's kitchen weeks ago, he had found himself sneaking down here more and more often, especially as she always made sure to have a plate of food for him, at all times, and was never too busy to listen to him talk about his lessons with the evil Mr. Shu, or his sparring matches with his cousin.

Vegeta was a better sparring partner than Goku could ever think to hope for, and he immensely enjoyed the time they spent fencing or practicing pugilism. What he did not look forward to were the hours spent learning all about his future responsibilities, all over a plot of entailed land that was in Bath...or was it Surrey? Perth? Was that place in England? He could not remember...

But anyways--Chi-Chi had become the closest friend he had outside of Krillin (who Goku could not imagine talking to about his etiquette lessons, sheesh!) and Bulma (who had locked herself in her room this past week, as usual), and she was always happy to see him. After she thoroughly dusted him off, Goku grinned at her. "Thanks Chi-Chi."

She frowned at him, licking her thumb, then wiping some flour off of his cheek. "What would ye do without me?" She shook her head, clucking her tongue, "Ye wouldn't be covered in flour and powdered sugar right before ye are about to be introduced to the entire English ton, that's for certain."

Goku laughed, "You know I would probably be covered in much worse than flour and powdered sugar if I couldn't come down here to get something to eat."

Chi-Chi laughed as well, "Aye, that ye would be. Ye don't like being indoor, and clean, that for sure."

Goku shook his head, his smile large as he put a hand on Chi-Chi's shoulder, "Thanks, Chi-Chi." The small woman froze under his hand, unnoticed by Goku as he looked around the kitchen, his grin fading, "I guess I should be going. I mean, I do have to be introduced at some point, right?"

Chi-Chi shrugged out of his hand (though it was the last thing she wanted to do), and put both of her hands on her hips gave him a stern nod. "Aye that ye do. Ye can't go on hiding in here forever." Chi-Chi tried to be stern, but she could not keep her face from falling into a sad sort of smile as she almost absentmindedly told him, "Ye're going to be a smash hit with all of them fancy ladies. Young, smart, handsome--and with yer title and money, the marriage mart will be snapping at your heels. Before ye know it, ye'll have a pretty little English miss on your arm..."

Goku shook his head, sticking his tongue out, adamant in his refusal of some Ôpretty little English miss.' Though that could be because, as usual, Goku had not quite understood what Chi-Chi had meant. Sure, he knew what marriage was, he just did not understand why any man like him, who loved being outdoors and fighting, would want to do it. He gave Chi-Chi's arm one last squeeze, before he dropped his hand, reassuring her, "Well unless they can cook like you, don't worry! You'll always be the best friend I have who isn't my sister or bald!"

Chi-Chi's cheeks turned a fair shade of red at the nicest compliment Goku had ever paid her (not that Goku had realized it), and Goku cocked his head, his eyes large as he innocently asked, "You feeling okay, Chi-Chi?"

Chi-Chi, sufficiently flustered, nodded, shooing him out of her kitchen, "Aye, aye! But ye need to leave. The dowager will have more than my hide if she catches ye in here!"

Goku nodded, agreeing, turning to go, but stopping suddenly. "Oh! One more thing!" He turned towards Chi-Chi, that smile that always turned her stomach, was on his face. "I need to practice one last thing, and since Bulma was not there for me to practice it on, can I try it on you?"

Chi-Chi, who knew just what sort of trouble she would be in if anyone caught Goku down here (or if even a hint of the way she mooned over him got upstairs to her employers), gave a frustrated stamp of her foot, knowing how stubborn this man could be. "Fine, but make it fast!"

Goku smiled at her, before nodding, concentrated. His face changed, the large grin gone, a bland smile that did not look quite right on Goku's face appearing. He dipped into a bow, "Chef Chi-Chi, an honor to meet you." Before Chi-Chi could react, Goku reached for her hand (which had been outstretched in the act of shooing him), and lifted it to his lips, placing a soft, delicate kiss on the inside of her palm.

Chi-Chi's hand clamped shut, as if to hold the kiss forever, her whole body feeling a tremulous shiver that changed her very being at that contact. She lost all thoughts of whom she was, and where she was standing, her eyes glazing over as she simply thought he kissed me.

Goku, noticing the catatonic trace Chi-Chi had slipped into, straightened and frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

It took Chi-Chi a moment to find her voice, and when she did, it was strangled and foreign, and much too loud and high pitched as she shouted, "AYE." She paused for a second, putting her hand on her chest, coughing, clearing her throat, before she even tried to speak again, "Aye." She gave herself another second, as Goku just stood there, politely waiting for her to continue, "Ye're not supposed to kiss the woman's palm--you're supposed to kiss the woman's knuckles."

Goku scratched his head, but only shrugged, straightening as she pointed out just what the knuckles were, smiling as he realized what he did wrong. "Oh! Thanks Chi-Chi! I really do have to go!" He turned to run out the kitchen, before turning back to the table he had been sitting out, grabbing some more pastries to shove in his mouth, mumbling as he ran out, calling over his shoulder, "I'll te' Ôou Ôow everythin' goes tmrrw!"

She waited until he was gone until she whispered, "I can hardly wait." She allowed a moment to herself to wallow in the warm glow she always got when she was around Goku. Finally, snapping back to no-nonsense mood Chi-Chi, she turned back to her kitchen staff (who had been smart enough to remain busy while Chi-Chi and Goku spoke in the middle of the overstuffed room), her face fierce. "All righ'! Where are the soup tureens I've been asking fer fer the last four hours!"

~~&~~

Bunny Briefs was having the time of her life. Well, in all truth, Bunny Briefs often had the time of her life--she was that sort of person. She found the happiest moments in the dullest days, and generally tried to bring an ounce of sunshine to everyone's life around. Her smile was often so large, her husband joked that most people did not know the color of her eyes (they were blue, just in case it was not clear where Bulma got her beautiful baby blues from, Bunny would often respond...).

Bunny sighed, smiling as she turned to her right hand, where the very man she had left England for, sat, contentedly staring out into nothing, but still causing her heart to give a (good) squeeze. People had called her a fool, so many years ago, for leaving the only land she had ever called home, to go with a man she had met a mere few weeks earlier, a man who was not only NOT an English Peer, but an inventor!

They had laughed at her as she explained she did not need a title, or money from him (for at the time, he had very little), but all she needed was the warm way he always looked at her. Like it was just her and him in the world, and it always would be. Just like he still looked at her (in fact he was doing it now that he had noticed her looking at him), even though it has been almost a quarter of a century since they had met.

"You okay, honey?"

Bunny's smile was large as she took in her husband, his voice still filling her with sunshine. Just like it had on the day they had met. He squeezed her hand, giving her a smile back and nodded his head, prompting her to answer his question, "Of course, dear. I cannot believe the night we've been waiting for is finally here!"

"I know--it seems like just yesterday we were sitting back at Capsule Corporation, trying to figure out what to do with the mountain boy the turtle hermit had brought us..."

Bunny could not stop herself from getting emotional as she realized that it had been around ten years since that day, and she had to wave her hand in front of her face to stop the happy tears from falling. "I know--I'm so proud of how far he's come...an English lord! Imagine that. And everyone said my children would never be titled!"

Her husband chuckled, shaking his head, before he noticed Bunny's smile had lost some of its luster. "What is it dear? What is wrong?"

Bunny gave her husband another bright smile, before admitting, "this night is going to be perfect...I can tell...it's just that...I just wish we could be out there for Goku!"

Dr. Briefs nodded, "I know dear--but Goku's strong."

Bunny sighed, and then chuckled, as she looked pointedly at their full-grown daughter, who was dressed to the nines, looking every bit the proper lady...and who was unable to stop pacing the room like some sort of caged beast. Bunny smiled at her husband. "Why don't you try telling that to her, dear?"

Dr. Briefs and Bunny shared a moment of introspection as they took in the restless person they had given life to. Bunny did not know what her husband was thinking, but Bunny felt pride at just how beautiful Bulma looked. She would outshine every British rose in the room, there was no question of that. From her bold figure, to her striking looks, even to her gown-- Bulma had bucked convention, as usual, and instead of wearing white or a pale pink to her debut gown, she had chosen a glowing red gown--a red that really only Bulma could pull off with her translucent skin and vivid blue hair. That red was sure to get her noticed by every single other person in the room, Bunny thought proudly.

A red, Bunny noticed on closer inspection, which currently matched the color of Bulma's cheeks. Oh dear, Bunny thought, this could not be good. Bulma only got that red when she was about to blo--

"WHY THE HELL ARE WE STUCK IN HERE, WHEN HE'S OUT THERE?! ALONE?!"

As if on cue, her daughter had erupted like a volcano, her temper no longer able to be held in check. Bunny was not quite sure where Bulma's temperament came from, what with Bunny always being so sunny (she chuckled inwardly at the unintentional rhyme), and her husband's rather laid back attitude, and Bulma liked to blame it on being raised in America. "THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

Bunny's gasp was immediate, still unused to the habit Bulma had picked up from the men who worked at the Capsule Corporation factories, though Bunny knew that her daughter could probably out-swear the most weathered of sailors. Still, it did not stop Bunny from trying to break her daughter of that most unladylike of conventions, "Bulma! There is no need to cuss!"

Bulma whirled on her mother, her Grecian up-do being held in place by the silver bands that matched the simple jewelry Bulma was wearing, all offset with rubies, to match the red of the dress. A good pick on Bunny's part, if Bunny did say so herself. Though Bunny did not say so, as Bulma had already started her temper tantrum, and it was hard to stop Bulma when she is on a roll. "Mo-ther! There is every need to cuss! That vile woman--"

Bunny cut her daughter off, "The dowager, I presume."

Bulma steamed on, as if Bunny had not said a word, "--has ordered us to stay in here while Goku is introduced to the whole world--"

Her husband tried to cut Bulma off this time, "Surely not the whole world, dear--just some British stuffy folk."

Bunny giggled at that, and even Bulma stopped, though she blinked, nonplussed, rolling on ahead. "--As someone he is truly not--,"

Bunny's confusion was real as she stopped her daughter this time with a raised hand, "As someone he is truly not? What do you mean Bulma dear?"

Bulma stopped frowning as she turned towards her mother, her hand motioning in a circle. "You know what I mean! As Kakarrot--not Goku! The man he truly is!"

"Oh..." Bunny and her husband said in near unison.

Bulma was not fazed, "Goku is out there by himself, with that vile woman, and her equally vile grandson! We should be out there supporting him as he is cast to the wolves--"

Bunny sighed, "Really Bulma, they're not all that bad. More like crocodile's than wolves..."

"Maybe more like hyena's my dear? It has been awfully loud out there."

Bunny turned towards her husband, her finger thoughtfully on her chin, "I suppose you are quite right. All of that cackling, and gasping. I would assume that last loud gasp means that Goku has properly been introduced to the world as the long-lost Viscount Vegetasei?"

"Quite right you are, dear. I could hear the Duke's crier announce it all the way up here just a few moments ago."

Bulma, frustrated with her parents (it appeared), threw up her hands, giving up on her tirade, and walked over to the curtains that were hiding the Briefs family from the large staircase that led to the even larger ballroom that was holding five hundred of the Vegetasei's closest (and most titled) friends.

As Bunny had learned in these last few weeks, an invitation to the Vegetasei's was highly coveted, as events were few and far between. That was not the only draw, the exclusivity of the events, but as it was sure that only the cr�me de la cr�me of society would show up to the Vegetasei event's, which equaled certain scandal. Not that the Vegetasei's ever caused a scandal (not that Bunny could wrench up, at the very least), but something big always happened whenever the biggest ego's in all of London (outside of parliament that was) were all gathered in one place.

No one in all of the Ton wanted to be the person the next morning who was forced to ask their lucky friends, "So what did I miss at the Vegetasei event?" Because the answer was always sure to be detailed, and to cause the one listening to fill with envy.

Before Bunny or her husband could sense Bulma's next move (really, Bunny had never been able to read what was going on in her daughter's head), Bulma had let out another frustrated exhale, and then threw up her hands. "That is it! We've been stuck in here long enough! I'm going out there!"

Bunny and her husband had stood, sensing impending doom. "Wait Bulma--the dowager promised she would send a footman to come to us when it was time for us to be introduced."

Bulma snorted at that and rolled her eyes, letting her thoughts of the dowager be known in that one look before she stormed over to the curtains, parting them as she vacated the room. Bunny and her husband shared one raised-brow look, before they too left the room, hurrying after Bulma, trying to get her to stop.

Bulma abruptly stopped, her parents not far behind her as Bulma turned to explain, "I promised Goku he could come to me whenever he did not know a dance, so he would not embarrass himself tonight with his lack of knowledge. You both know how horrible he is in social situations like this one without us!" Bunny and her husband shared another look, a shared agreement with Goku's lack of social knowledge, and Bulma grinned knowing she had won them over, the triumph obvious in her voice as she declared, "I'm going out there, and you can't stop me!"

As they had already reached the turning point to the grand staircase, both Bunny and Dr. Briefs acknowledged that there really was no point in stopping Bulma now. Still, Bunny could not stop herself from pointing out, "Bulma--this is the first time these peers will have ever seen you. Can you try not to enter the room like a charging rhino? How will you be able to help Goku at later social events if you're not invited to any of them?"

Bulma glared at her mother for a few long moments, as Bunny only innocently blinked back, waiting this one out. Bulma gave a frustrated sigh, but then she closed her eyes, and Bunny could practically hear her daughter counting backwards from ten. Enough color left Bulma's face that Bulma cheeks simply looked rosy, rather than bright red, her lips relaxing enough to go from being a smooth line, back to their regular rosebud shape, her nostrils no longer flaring. Bunny beamed with pride, seeing the transformation, silently thinking that's my girl.

When Bulma reopened her eyes, Bunny chuckled inwardly as she saw that the angry spark had not left Bulma's blue eyes--though Bulma was lucky that this made her already gorgeous eyes sparkle luminously. Bunny gave a nod, and Bulma haughtily tossed her head as she turned, lifting the skirts of her dress, before daintily descending the steps with all of the grace and refinement that had bred into her from childhood. Or that she had been blessed to inherit from her mother, Bunny thought triumphantly as she observed from above the sudden silence that descended over the room.

Every eye in the ballroom was drawn to her daughter, more than a few mouths open wide in shock, faces filled with curiosity at just who the mystery woman walking down the stairs was--Bunny could not have planned a better entrance to the ball if she had tried. Trust Bulma to find a way to outdo her mother's expectations without realizing it...

Dr. Briefs just chuckled at his daughter's dramatic entrance as he came to stand next to his wife, putting an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his warmth, "you always know just what to say to her to have her do what you want, don't you?"

Bunny chuckled, keeping track of just who seemed enamored of her daughter (already having a quite large list of the most eligible men in all of London, and who and who would not make a good catch for her daughter) as she put a delicate kiss on her husband's cheek. "Of course dear--she got her temper from your American half, and I've had you well in hand for over twenty years."

Dr. Briefs gave another good-hearted chuckle, though Bunny kept her eyes on the ballroom, observing everyone, making mental notes. As her eyes landed on one solitary figure, she wanted to throw a fist up in triumph. The most eligible man in all of London was starring at Bulma, unable to look away, pulled to Bunny's daughter like she had the answer to every question the man ever wanted or needed to know.

Bunny turned to her husband, smiling, and pointed the man out, her voice giddy, "Look--he can't keep his eyes off of Bulma!"

Dr. Briefs followed his wife finger, smiling as he noticed just who she was pointing too. "Only you would think that the look on that man's face showed interest, woman..."

Bunny just giggled, and she pulled her husband after her, having given her daughter enough time to make an entrance. "After living with the Duke of Vegetasei for the past week, I think I can tell when that man is interested in our daughter..."

~~&~~

What Dr. Briefs said, about only Bunny interpreting the look on the Duke of Vegetasei's face as interest, was not, technically, true.

One other person had noticed--simply because they were not as enraptured by the radiant beauty slowly descending the stairs as every other person in the room was. While every other pair of eyes were on the blue-haired enchantress making her way into the already overcrowded ballroom. This ice blue pair of eyes had seen her, taken measure of the poise and elegance in her step, the high hold of her pert nose, the way her beauty had no compare (indeed, she knew this mystery woman was sure to be this seasons incomparable), and turned towards the man she had not seen since he had broken off their arrangement over a month ago.

It was her first time seeing him since he had ended their affair, and while she would like to pretend that she had walked away from their end with no unresolved feelings, she had to admit she had come tonight, curious to see if there was any chance of a renewed relationship. He was as cold as she was, and that suited her. She was comfortable with him, and while she had never fooled herself in love with him, she had grown rather fond of him--fonder of him than he had of her, which was a no-no in her book.

She had been widowed for over ten years, and in the affairs that had followed, she had set out some ground rules to avoid hurting the men she was with, as well as protecting herself. It had worked out well. She had had affairs, she had gotten pleasure (and other things) from them, and she had gotten out with no messy entanglements or lasting associations--just as she had wanted. Until now that was. She finally found a man she could tolerate being around, and he had been the one to leave her--a first for her.

When the Duke of Vegetasei had first broken things off with her, she had held her head high, and resolved to let him walk away. But the last month had grown long, and she had found no desire to seduce another man. So she had come here tonight, with the goal of renewing their relations, to see if she could seduce him back to her, and to maybe make their arrangement a little more...permanent. She did not fancy her feelings for him deep, but she could see herself making a comfortable life with him.

She had just never expected to feel the hurt she did when she saw the way the Duke of Vegetasei stared at the woman who came down the stairs. She recognized the lust in his eyes instantly--he had looked at her like that once too--but it was those others, deeper, feelings, the ones she would put money on that the Duke himself had not even acknowledged, that had caused her breath to catch. It was there in the way the Duke could not look away--he was disconcerted, and she knew that the Duke never lost his cool, hardly even in that moment of purest pleasure where she herself could not stop herself from screaming out. Whoever this siren was, she had the Duke of Vegetasei under her spell, whether she wanted him to be or not.

The widow took one look at the way the Duke stared at the young woman, and fled. In a refined way, of course. She took a deep breath, quietly finding the open French doors that beckoned out to the open balcony, slipping out unnoticed (she doubted most people would notice anything with the way they were staring at the mystery woman). She did not even look back as she took the steps that led deep into the Vegetasei gardens, losing herself in them as she composed herself. She would appear back in the ballroom, composed, and calm. And she would find another man who she could seduce.

Or that had been the plan.

That plan had been destroyed the second she had stepped onto the balcony, and run straight into something hidden in shadows. As she let out a solid oomph, her midsection getting knocked by something round, she took a step back, putting a hand on her chest, hoping to gain some of the breath she had lost. The wind had been knocked out of her (a feeling she recognized from her younger days), and she lost her usual cool, calm composure as she began to cough, trying to recoup some of the air she had lost.

As she did, she heard a muttered, "Oh jeez! Look what you've done! You just had to sneak out to see Goku's big entrance, didn't you! And now look what you've done!" Then the same voice was directed to her, "I am so sorry!"

As the widow regained her breath, she turned towards the source of the noise, her eyes landing heavily on a shorter, bald man, who was standing half in the shadow, his hand held out to her, his eyes full of concern, which disconcerted her--no one ever looked at her like that. "Are you okay? I don't think you saw me when you came out, and I didn't have enough time to move out of your way as you rounded that corner."

The widow's eyes narrowed, taking in the appearance of the man, noticing that his clothes were not as expensive as she was used to, and his accent was off, causing her mistrust of this midget to grow. Her voice was sharp as she questioned, "Who are you? What are you doing hiding out here?"

The man held the hand up that he had been holding out to her, putting on a sheepish grin, "Oh, me? I'm, ah, well no one really." Her eyes narrowed further, and he continued, gulping, "Well the name's Krillin." As she continued to stare, he bumbled on, rather nervously, "I'm here with Goku."

She stared at him, still confused, that name as foreign to her as Krillin was. "You're here with who? Who's this Goku?"

He blustered, his cheeks turning red. That stopped the widow short--she was not used to the kind of man who blushed, and it intrigued her that this man seemed to have no control over how calm and controlled he looked. "Oh jeez! I forgot...I mean Kakarrot. I'm here with Kakarrot. I traveled from America with him. I'm not technically invited to the party, but I had to see how Goku...I mean Kakarrot would do with all of these people. He's a pretty shy guy."

The bald man looked past her, into the lights, and the widow pursed her lips at seeing his lack of a nose--not that it looked too odd. Which was odd in itself...

The bald man--Krillin, continued, unnoticing of her perusal of him. "That Bulma though...she sure knows how to make an entrance, right?"

The widow snapped to attention, pulled from her wandering thoughts. "You mean you know that woman? Bulma?"

"Of course. She's Goku's...Kakarrot's, danggit I keep forgetting, sister!" The widow pursed her lips, thinking...

"Are you sure you're okay, Miss? I feel like I'm babbling on and on and you haven't said a word. I guess you ran into me pretty hard, and I know I'm a pretty solid guy."

He let out a nervous chuckle that further enraptured her--just who was this man? The fact that he was nervous enough to chuckle, and not suave enough to cover it up as something else...she had to admit she was interested. He was an open book, and she was not afraid to admit she was curious to see what she would find if she read the pages he was holding open to her. She had not met a man like him in...well...ever, it seemed. "Krillin, you said?"

He nodded, and she saw his cheeks redden further as she smiled at him, placing her hand on his arm. "Would you care to lead me through the gardens? I find myself in need of some cool air, and you seem to be just the person who can help me make my way through them."

"S-s-sure! Of course! I know the gardens quite well, as we spar out here...Kakarrot and I that is..." He stopped talking for a moment, as he led her down the stairs, before taking a deep breath and starting again, "I'm sorry--you know my name, but I don't know yours. How rude of me. I may not be a fancy hidden lord, but I do have manners!"

The widow smiled, a practiced grin that she knew drove men crazy, wondering just how quickly she could crush the spirits of the man in front of her, while finding out information about the intriguing Bulma, who the widow had not yet decided whether or not she would crush, just out of spite. "Me? Well you may call me Eighteen..."

~~&~~

Knowing when to make your entrance is a most desired trait in a spy. Most people think it is all about being sneaky (which it is), or about being untraceable (which it is)--but the agent who was known simply as Zhelonie (or Green to those who spoke Russian--which ninety-nine percent of England did not), found that one could not say enough about a good entrance. Or, more aptly, recognizing when fate has given you the perfect opportunity to slip into parties, one might not technically have been invited to, unnoticed.

See, Zhelonie, one of the most celebrated spies in the past century, had a three step plan that allowed him entrance to any high-class society he wanted entrance too. It had worked in numerous other countries, and he did not anticipate running into problems here, in England.

The first step was that one had to find where the it party of the ton was going to be. It was very important that it was the it party, as usually they were so large, no one could be quite sure who was or was not invited, and because this it party was where the sort of people Zhelonie wanted to rub elbows with would be to complete step three. Zhelonie had been pleased to discover, quite early and easily, that the place he would need to infiltrate was going to be at the Duke of Vegetasei's aptly named Saiyan hall. Zhelonie had chuckled at the irony of having to sneak into the Duke of Vegetasei's, but he had kept that joke to himself for now.

The second step was about scoping out the location of the party, and finding the easiest way to gain entrance that was not the front door (an amateur mistake made by the lesser ton who were trying to gain admittance to this very exclusive party). Zhelonie had quite early on discovered in his career that the British loved their lavish gardens, and that these were always easy enough to sneak in through. One simply had to pretend to be a footman of a carriage waiting out front, sneak around the back, and wait by the always open, always overtly large, and large in number, glass French doors. From that point on, it was simply about waiting to complete step three.

Step three, Zhelonie's favorite step, was to slip into the party unnoticed, at first, then slowly make himself more and more known through the night. It would seem counterintuitive that a spy would want himself to be known, but it was not Zhelonie the spy who needed to be known, but Zhelonie the alter ego--the man who made himself so known that any other event of note being thrown by the Ton would just seem wrong without Zhelonie's inclusion.

As it was, Zhelonie had thought his plan had been ruined at step two and half, when he had realized he was not alone on the balcony necessary for him to sneak in through. His hopes had not been dashed for long, though, when a quick observance of the short, bald man watching on the other side of the balcony showed a man who was just taking pleasure in watching what was going on inside the party. He did not have a hint of nefariousness about him, and Zhelonie quickly placed him as a silly servant, who was trying to watch from the wings. Still, Zhelonie did not want to have to kill him, but he would if the man showed even a hint of interest in the darkened corner Zhelonie was currently standing on.

Thankfully, right when Zhelonie had been growing impatient with trying to find the perfect timing and way to slip into the party unannounced, the blue-haired bombshell--a bless her, whoever she was--had come down the stairs, distracting every single person in the room from what was going on around them. On top of that, the bald servant was soon distracted from his own surroundings by the bumbling blonde woman who had run straight into him.

Zhelonie did not need to be told by fate twice, and so he used the opportunity to slip into the room, near the back, waiting as the whispers started, covering his own entrance quite effectively. When the siren finally reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman next to him, who had not noticed the addition of another guest to this party (namely, himself), barely looked at him as she whispered, "Do you know who she is?"

Zhelonie's English almost perfect, just the barest hint of his French origins revealed, and, always, unnoticed by those around him. "I regret to say I do not have a clue. She is lovely though--not as lovely as you, of course, madam..."

The older woman, well past her prime, let out a chuckle, blushing, though any idea Zhelonie had of continuing a flirtation was lost as he was distracted again. The footman who had been acting as crier, who must have been sleeping at his post, or most likely, had been as distracted as the beauty who had taken the stairs as everyone else, called out, "Presenting the Dr. and Mrs. Briefs, and their daughter, Miss Briefs."

Zhelonie eyed Miss Briefs speculatively, ignoring the older couple who were her parents completely as he took the confidant, beautiful woman in. He decided then and there that he owed her a personal thank you for her help in entering the ball tonight. She should consider herself lucky that one of the most famous spies of the nineteenth century would choose to bestow his favors on her...

~~&~~
A/N: Dang, this chapter was fun to write! I've been doing a lot of Bulma and Vegeta, and while they are my favorite to write for, I love having the other characters have voices as well (though I think I got some of their characterization's down so much better than others). Frieza has made an appearance earlier than I had planned, to the request of one of my awesome reviewers (you know who you are!), we finally get inside of Zhelonie's head and you guys finally got to see who the Widow was (though most of you guessed it--good job!). Also, a little Goku and Chi-Chi thrown in for good measure, because their romance is just so sweet (the complete opposite of Bulma and Vegeta's, I would say), and Bunny Briefs is always a force to be reckoned with in my opinion. I had the most fun writing her part.

Next time, more of the Vegetasei ball (oh the drama just be startin' y'all!)

Also, I think we should all make a joint effort to bring the word omnibus back to the modern vernacular--who's with me?!