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[fascinationex]

Bulma Briefs: a prompt fic

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“And with this achievement,” the announcer bellowed, deep voice booming out over the arena, “Bulma Briefs has surpassed not just the innnnfamous Doctor Gero, but her own father! That’s brutal –”

Hm , thought Bulma, looking around. It looked like a World Martial Arts Tournament match – but with laboratory equipment instead of an empty arena, and with white coats instead of gi. There were defeated scientists crying into pools of their own sweat and futile effort, just, all over the place.

Bulma’s own white coat appeared to be perfectly tailored to her form, which was probably why she’d deigned to actually wear one anyway . She was seated high up on a podium in a very comfortable chair, and there was, curiously, a plate of fresh, sweet strawberries right next to her. Well. All right.

Bulma had absolutely no idea what was going on, but she had the nagging feeling that it was all completely as it was meant to be. She was prepared to let it play out.

All eyes were on her: expectant, anticipatory, excited. Every single person in the enormous, murmuring crowd, row upon row of brightly-dressed spectators, was paying attention only to her, and each of them was excited to be there.

Her own heart trembled, just a little, in response.

Bulma licked her lips, selected a single red strawberry, and popped it into her mouth. Her teeth met in its flesh, and her mouth flooded with tart juice and impossible sweetness. Her eyes fluttered. Oh.

“– but what an achievement! At only thirty years old, Bulma Briefs has invented the first perfectly controlled molecular replication device, solving the problem of scarcity forever and –”

Oh, was that what she’d done? Yeah, that sounded like her. Now that she thought about it, she even had vague memories of actually doing it: the hours she’d put in, the frustration and failures, the dull hum of her laboratory equipment at three in the morning, the taste of stale coffee…

She looked fine now, though, she saw, glancing at her reflection in the back of a pretty glass that someone had filled, which was right next to her, next to the strawberries. She didn’t look a day over twenty four.

“–Research and Development Queen of the Entire Universe!”

That, too, sounded exactly like Bulma. She hummed in satisfaction, leaning back into her seat. It embraced her perfectly . Yes. Excellent. Next up: world peace. Then maybe… shopping?

Maybe she’d even find a satisfactory boyfriend with her spare time. That would be nice. Even the Research and Development Queen of the Entire Universe needed company. Preferably cute company.

Probably she wouldn’t be able to find a sexy outlaw who was also prince charming who was also at least a doctoral candidate who was also rich and who was also willing to do everything she said and punch other men for her honour and/or entertainment. But a newly crowned queen could dream… right?

“And now, we commence with the World Martial Arts Tournament!” Oh, was that why this arena looked so familiar? Somebody had cleared away the laboratory equipment now, and it was just the regular big, circular arena. There were warrior hopefuls lining up already. She recognised some of them, she thought. Wait, but why was she up here, on this podium? She knew just enough about martial arts to know that she didn’t know very much about martial arts. Was she meant to be a judge?

“And we have a special event! On this occasion the prize is not just money and glory! Oh, no! The winner of the world fighting tournament will receive double the prize money –”

The crowd murmured louder. Bulma noticed that they were still looking at her. Adoringly. That was nice.

“– and the opportunity to grovel before and ask the newly crowned Research and Development Queen of the Entire Universe, Bulma Briefs, to allow them to spend it on a date with her! That’s right, folks, today’s lucky winner will be allowed to ask to spend all their prize money on Bulma Briefs!”

Oooh. Well, of course. That made sense, too.

She took a closer look at the contestants, and her eyes narrowed. Sure, there was Son Goku – of course. She felt a wave of relief seeing him. Some part of her was sure he was injured, or sick or – something. But there he was, broad shouldered tall, beaming up at her. He couldn’t possibly be sick. Even his messy hair had a glossy sheen. And, oh! there was Yamcha beside him, smiling so his adorable dimple twisted that scar on his cheek. Tien, next, then, hard-faced and serious.

Those were familiar faces, ones she already knew and expected, and she felt the same strange sense of relief again and again seeing them. It was a relief to know they were okay. Wasn’t it?

Why? She wondered. She couldn’t remember.

It might be nice to have Yamcha ask her to go on a date with him. She’d still say no, after how he treated her – but she’d like that, too. What had the announcer said? Grovel before?

He was still so cute, with his charming smile and his roguish scars and his lovely, well-proportioned body. She could almost picture what his face would look like when he begged and she still said no , in front of all these people…

Her stomach fluttered and clenched with anticipation. She felt a little warm.

He wouldn’t win, though, she reminded herself. There was no way. But likewise, t here was no way she was going on a date with Goku , no matter how much he begged to spend all his prize money on her.

Hmm, that was a shame. She guessed she’d have to go back to the drawing board on the boyfriend front.

But – oh.

Somehow she’d missed the others.

That had to have been what had happened, because obviously the warriors who might challenge him could not have appeared out of nowhere just when she was lamenting the possibility of a date with Goku – and she couldn’t imagine how she could have missed Piccolo standing there, huge and intimidating and, you know, bright green.

He wasn’t alone. Next to him was, bafflingly, the equally tall, blue-skinned alien creature from Frieza’s army: Zarbon. His hair tumbled prettily around his face, and his mouth was pressed into a sneer.

“Don’t even bother,” he said, in a clipped, soft voice to the taller figure next to him. “I’m going to win. And then I’ll claim my prize.”

“Keep dreaming,” said his friend, and Bulma realised with some uncertainty that the person he was speaking to was that big saiyan with the enormous tumbling train of spiky hair, Raditz. He was… also there – Goku’s elder brother, by blood.

He had a similar face, but his eyes were colder and meaner, and his smile was less charming and more… anticipatory. He did not look back at Zarbon when he spoke. His eyes were too fixed on Bulma.

She let her eyes drift away from him, too. The  next one was a face she knew well, but wasn’t sure she liked – Vegeta, the alien prince who had come so close to annihilating everyone. He was almost comically short next to the others, but he still had that same over-muscled build: his skintight armour looked like it was fighting a losing battle against the movement of every painstakingly delineated muscle under it.

Do I get to pick who wins, too? she wondered. There was something terribly unsafe about the idea that Vegeta might win, and also something terribly, terribly… thrilling. She shifted in her seat, pleasantly uncomfortable.

Was there a possibility that he’d win?

Was there a possibility that he'd grovel for her?

“Well,” said a voice behind her. “I don’t know what I expected… but at least we can say you don’t dream small.”

She turned her head.

Krillen, dirtied and scuffed in his own orange gi – unlike everybody else at the tournament, who had at least made some effort to clean up – had his hands propped behind his head and an expression of bemused fascination upon his face.

“What,” said Bulma.

Actually, now that she was looking at him, he seemed – oddly more… intense, than the rest of the tournament. She glanced behind her. Even her strawberries, which had been so strong and ripe and sweet to her, didn't seem to be quite as solid as...

“We found her!” That higher voice was – Gohan? Oh, she was definitely not going on a date with Gohan. He was grinning. “...Bulma, your ideal life involves the World Martial Arts Championship?”

“No,” she said, feeling confused and resistant. But when she stood up, something -- something happened to her very comfortable seat on the podium, and then it wasn't there anymore. “...They crowned me Research and Development Queen of the Entire Universe.”

And then a series of overbuilt alien men were about to compete violently for the very chance to ask her if she’d allow them to spend all their money on her.

K rillen coughed. ‘The entire universe,’ he mouthed.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Gohan said admiringly, apparently oblivious. “But we have to go now.”

“It’s not real,” she deduced.

“No!” Gohan seemed even more pleased to tell her this. “There’s a plant, native to Namek – this is its defence mechanism. It makes anything that comes into contact with it hallucinate whatever they like best. Dende says it only affects organisms with sufficiently complex nervous systems. Do you think we can take a sample, Bulma? We’ll have to keep it isolated –”

Bulma smiled insincerely at his enthusiasm, but on the inside she felt irritation well in her belly. Krillen was watching her, not Gohan, and only occasionally was his gaze distracted by the movement of people in the – magical Namekian hallucination, or whatever.

His eyebrows rose at something going on in the background. Bulma heard a thunk .

Gohan said, confused, “Why’s Piccolo taking off his armour? Oh… and… is that Vegeta? Why is Vegeta here? Why is everyone taking off their armour?"

Krillen made a noise. It wasn’t a great noise. She eyed him, both in suspicion that he was laughing at her and also in case she needed to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre.

He wasn't choking. Unfortunately.

Bulma looked up at the sky.

How dare some stupid plant put her through this..! Her mouth twisted. “I think we can definitely take some samples,” she told him, smiling through it.

“I think it’s time to go, Gohan,” said Krillen.

“Oh, okay!”

“Before she conjures up any other naked aliens.”

“Yeah...” said Gohan, puzzled, looking over at them. They weren't naked... entirely. Bulma hoped Gohan did not tell Chichi this story. “Maybe it’s malfunctioning?”

“I know where you sleep,” she reminded Krillen lowly. Then, “I’m sure it is,” she added to Gohan. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. Yep. That stretch of glossy, unblemished green skin stretching over hard-working muscles was absolutely Piccolo. She was going to have to rip her eyes out the next time she saw him, or else face the horrible possibility that she –

Nope. Nah.

That was to say absolutely nothing of Vegeta, who –

No.

Samples. Bah. Bulma was going to rip them all out by the roots.