Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Cold Comfort for Bulma ❯ Act 8 Interrupted Breakfast ( Chapter 8 )

Cold Comfort

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z. I only own Ginger, Shasta and Chopsuay, who are fan characters. I don't get paid for this so don't sue me! The only renumeration I get is your reviews so please keep them coming!

 

A brief note: Thanks to Pitkat, Heiress, Monkey and others for reviewing. I have to admit Heiress this DID end a bit inconclusively, so I added these next 2 chappies to make it clearer. Also, look for lemon soon!

 

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In the extensive Capsule Corps mansion kitchen Bulma finished scraping together the pancake batter she had hastily whipped up. Two burned pancakes later, she finally got the hang of pouring four perfect discs into the griddle of equal size. She timed the interval with a glance at her watch, flipping each to reveal the golden brown surface on the backside.

 

"I hope he isn't too fussy, because this is what he's going to get,' Bulma mumbled, squinting to peer at the recipe on the back of the pancake batter box. So far she used scientific know how, and still managed to burn her first few. Cooking wasn't her strong suit, but she produced enough edible food to keep Vegeta's mouth shut. Already she had filled a bowl with fresh oranges, grapefruit, apples and grapes that she set on the corner of one counter near the fridge.

 

"Are you sure that you know what you're doing?" someone said. Bulma shrieked, letting one of the pancakes flip over her shoulder and smack into someone's face.

 

"Who the HELL?" she shrieked again, wheeling on whoever it was with her spatula raised high. A man's wrist blocked her blow, then caught her other wrist attached to the fist she send cracking towards the intruder's jaw.

 

"Whoa, wait don't be so hasty baby," Chopsuay laughed. With a plop the half-cooked pancake landed on the floor near Bulma's foot.

 

"You scared the shit out of me, you jerk! What are you doing down here? I thought you were already gone with Yamcha and the rest of your friends!" she panted. Chopsuay pinned her against the stove, but Bulma twisted under his arm and darted towards the plate of bacon she had just taken out of the microwave rack. Catching sight of the brown silk robe he wore, she thought it looked disturbingly familiar. Anxiously she glimpsed the calendar to check the date. Her parents were still away on that business trip they'd mentioned a week ago.

 

"Oww!" he yelped, his hands touching the warm stove momentarily. He shoved his hand into his mouth, then glanced at Bulma expectantly. Slowly he advanced on her, and she retreated with the spatula held between them.

 

"You play with fire, you get burned," Bulma glared at him. Chopsuay stopped and leaned against the counter by the fruit bowl. He picked up an apple, and rubbed it on the front of his robe.

 

"I only wanted to see if you were all right. I heard screaming from down the hall, and it sounded as if you and Yamcha had one hell of an argument," Chopsuay said politely. Still dark circles graced his otherwise slender and attractive face. Bulma noticed his eyes were hazel, but his breath reeked of alcohol from the night before. A long silence ensued, only broken by the soft munches of his teeth biting into the red delicious apple.

 

"My business with Yamcha's my own, so if you don't mind, why don't you take your little friend and leave now before I have you thrown out," Bulma glared at him. Chopsuay took another bite of his apple, and strode towards Bulma.

 

"So cold to someone who's a friend, Ms. Briefs? I thought we were all best buddies after last night?" Chopsuay scolded. He seized a piece of bacon off the tray, nibbling it hungrily. Bulma crossed the kitchen to put a large gap between her uninvited houseguest and herself, darting around the center island.

 

"You've got a little less then a MINUTE to get your ass upstairs, and then less then ten to get your shit and your little tramps and SCRAM!" Bulma sternly interrupted him. Frantically she punched buttons on the phone to call up security.

 

"Bulma, darling, just think of what the neighbors would say if you threw us out so cruelly!" Chopsuay protested. He dashed across the floor towards Bulma, then grabbed her hand holding the phone.

 

"Let GO of me!" she snarled, twisting her wrist out of his grasp.

 

"What's going on here?" Ginger sleepily wondered. She stood in an abbreviated housecoat that left little to the imagination past mid thigh. The hint of black thong panties peeked out from the front of the robe tied across her hemispherical breasts.

 

"Hey that's MY robe you whore!" Bulma protested. She shoved Chopsuay away, still holding the phone on one ear.

 

Rubbing her hands over her eyes Ginger glided between an amorous Chopsuay heading back towards Bulma and the heiress. She seized the lapels of his silk robe, which looked suspiciously like the one she had laundered for her father the other day. It came to his mid hips. Shoving her nose into his face she scolded, "Cho-kun, what's going on here? What are you doing to our host?"

 

"Baby, I didn't realize you were up. I was just seeing if Bulma was all right, since she was arguing down the hall from us," said Chopsuay, sweat beading on his forehead.

 

Bulma growled with outrage, her hand clenched around the kitchen phone. She grabbed a rolling pin from the island counter, brandishing it before the young couple standing in the center of the kitchen. Glaring at bout her guests she shouted, "He's pissing me off! I recommend you convince your boyfriend to heel before I have him kicked off. Hello, security? This is Ms. Briefs, come here immediately! I've got two uninvited guests I want out!"

 

"But Bulma dear that's NOT necessary. I'm sure Cho-kun here was just still a bit hung over. You know that she's with that other gentleman we met last night, right?" Ginger said, leaning forwards to brush her lips against Chopsuay's ear. His hands slid down and cupped her backside at the same time hers darted down to grab his butt through the borrowed robe.

 

"Is that my longer you're wearing?" Bulma asked, edging towards the couple starting to make out in broad daylight. Ginger gently shoved Chopsuay into the nearest counter that was conveniently near a large bowl of fresh fruit Bulma had pulled out of the pantry. Seizing a grape she pulled it off the vine and removed her lips from Chopsuay's face.

 

"Oops, dear me I'm sorry," Ginger said, popping a grape into Chopsuay's opened mouth after he surface for air from a long French kiss. "How rude of me, Miss Bulma. I didn't have anything else to wear and I figured you wouldn't mind. I'll pay for the cleaning."

 

"I'll say this ONCE more. You two get out of here now! Security is on its way," Bulma shouted again, feeling the creeps at the calculating look crossing Ginger's attractive face. She sensed at some level that Ginger wasn't just another empty headed bimbo, but someone of greater intelligence.

 

"Why so harsh, we're only concerned for you. I'm very sorry I was overly amorous," Chopsuay apologized, his arms around Ginger's waist. He pulled her to his hips, then took a step towards a nervous Bulma.

 

"He really IS sorry. It was a simple misunderstanding, Bulma dear," Ginger apologized, turning in Chopsuay's arms so he stood behind her curvaceous body. "We'll go now, won't we?"

 

"Absolutely pet," he said, letting her take him by the hand and drag him out behind her swaying body. To exit the kitchen they had to pass Bulma. Still she warily kept her hand on the phone watching them come within six inches.

 

"I wouldn't bother calling anyone. There's really no need for all this security business, is there?" asked Chopsuay. His hand glided over and clicked the latch on the phone while Bulma suddenly felt Ginger dart around behind her. Before she knew it, her arms were pinioned behind her back by the slender arms of the pink haired girl, and Chopsuay reached into the pocket of his robe.

 

"What the HELL are you doing? Let GO of me!"

 

Angrily she kicked and screamed, before her voice was muffled. Chopsuay dodged her sharp kicks, one of them colliding with his hip instead of his groin. "Hold her Ginge… she's a feisty one…"

 

"Can't we just get the stuff and get the hell out of here! You had to play your STUPID game, didn't you! We could have been in and out of here without them knowing but no," Ginger snapped at him.

 

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Bulma dear," said Chopsuay, removing a slender metallic pistol from the pocket of his robe. Bulma tensed, her body freezing solid at the sight of the gun trained on her.

 

"You'd better have a GOOD reason for this. What's this all about?" Bulma glared defiantly at him.

 

"You could have made this easier if you'd simply let me be nice to you. We could have had some fun. But you had to be mean," Chopsuay said.

 

"Let me GO! I'll SCREAM!" Bulma said.

 

"How with a face full of bullets? Really Miss Briefs," Chopsuay laughed. He grabbed a paper towel and shoved it into Bulma's mouth, while he held the gun in one hand. Then he reached into the pocket of his robe on the other side and pulled out a pair of cuffs.

 

"You sick bastard! You'd better watch it or Yamcha…"

 

"That poor sap never knew what hit him. He was just bait to get to you. Right now Shasta's keeping him busy while we attend to you. So don't expect any help from him," said Ginger right into her ear. She caught the cuffs that Chopsuay threw her. He pressed the muzzle of his pistol to Bulma's nose, and gave her a little grin. Cold metal moved around Bulma's wrists, her knees knocking together.

 

"I wouldn't move a muscle if I were you. Unless you want him to mar your pretty face, Bulma sweetie," Ginger said sarcastically.

 

"I bet you're wondering just why we're having this little conversation? Well it's so simple even a genius like you can figure it out. You're very rich, and your father would pay a fortune to get you back. But you could cut a deal with us if you give us some of your valuables," said Chopsuay.

 

"MMMMGGGH!" Bulma squealed, jerking her body forwards.

 

"We've already gone through your jewelry box. Your mother has far better taste. And Shasta had a good sweep through just before she joined your bright buns boytoy for breakfast," said ginger into her ear.

 

"Watch her while I make sure we're not interrupted," Chopsuay said. Chopsuay held the phone and muffled his voice with his pajama sleeve.

 

"Hello, Security, this is Bulma's house guest, Mr. chopsuay. I'm afraid there's been a terrible mistake. Ms. Briefs is ill, and me and my friend, her guests are looking after her. So don't bother, it's all been a major…" Chopsuay spoke into the phone.

 

Angrily Bulma slipped one ankle behind her, knocking Ginger's legs from beneath her. She dropped, struggling to flip the girl over her shoulders. Fortunately Bulma was a bit heavier, and Ginger toppled over her with an undignified shriek. The grip she held on Bulma's arms was broken, and she bolted out of the kitchen with her hands shackled behind her. She stopped a minute to try and wriggle through her arms so her cuffs were before her. Then she wrestled the cloth out of her mouth.

 

"Get her!" Chopsuay yelled, helping Ginger up. Bulma caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of her eye as she raced through the living room screaming.

 

"Yamucha! VEGETA!!!" she screamed. "Get your asses DOWN here!"

 

"Come back here Miss Briefs, there's no need for this!" Ginger yelled from behind her. "Don't make me shoot you! It would be much easier for you to cooperate!"

 

A shot cracked past her head, and she dodged behind the sofa. Her shin collided with the carpeted floor. Chopsuay's voice echoed through the high vaulted sitting room, "Come now, Bulma dear. You can both come willingly as a hostage and let us take your valuables, or else you can tell us where your father has his safe. I'm sure you know which one he means…"

 

Bulma tensed on the floor, slowly inching her body up the back of the sofa. She managed to grab onto the back and pull herself up to peer overtop. Chopsuay and Ginger stalked through the living room, each holding a pistol in one hand while they held a drawstring bag in the other. Something jingled in each, leading Bulma to suspect that they had already cleaned out her jewelry box and her mother's.

 

"You know which one I mean, right?" Chopsuay called. "The one where your dear old man keeps his secret patents? If you come out right now, and give up, we'll leave you right here, and be gone before you know it."

 

"We can't take any chances! We need her for the ransom idiot!" Ginger hissed.

 

Bulma crept along the sofa back, then darted to the nearby chair. Ginger shouted, pointing. A loud bang crackled from Chopsuay's gun, and Bulma gasped at the sight of the chair bursting into flames. It disintegrated into a pile of ashes within seconds. She dodged behind the cover of a wall, hoping to reach the stairs and warn Vegeta. That is if he was still there. Surely he must have heard the commotion by now, and was either waiting for her to get killed or he was already in the GR oblivious.

 

"Oh, Ms. Briefs, another thing you may have noticed?" Chopsuay's laughter echoed. Bulma crouched behind the stairs leading upwards, huddling on the floor. She cursed the fact she hadn't brought her cell phone down with her, and the closest phone was in her father's office in the next room. A series of beeps clicked, and she heard a snatch of conversation between them.

 

"Shasta turned off the alarm. At least she got that right," Ginger whispered.

 

"Miss Briefs, I do hope you can hear me," Chopsuay asked. His footsteps vibrated the wooden floor, thumping closer.

 

"I wouldn't' count on the security system saving you. Seems Yamcha was a true dear and managed to divulge the code to our little comrade Shasta. So you really would be smarter to simply give up now," said Chopsuay.

 

Bulma heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs. She tensed; hoping it was whom she thought. Then she heard the click of a gun being cocked, and darted out into the open. Heart pounding she dodged around to make a break for the hallway leading off the foyer, and into her father's office complex on the other side of the house.