The group moved down the hallway.
Bulma walked up to a door and banged on it.
Oolong stood next to her, as a police officer.
He put on a deep scowl, committing to the role.
"Sorry to bother you. We're investigating a theft from the museum downtown. We're looking for a crystal ball, orange, about the size of a baseball. Have you seen anything like that?"
They hit a dozen rooms, and the result was a flat zero.
Most people just looked confused; a few didn't even wait for Bulma to finish the pitch before shutting the door in her face.
When they reached the next floor, something felt different.
Oolong rubbed the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut for a second.
"Is it just me, or is there zero oxygen on this floor? It feels like an oven."
"Really? I'm fine." Bulma replied, stopping suddenly in front of a public restroom in the corridor.
"Actually, hold up. I need to use the bathroom real quick. You guys stay right here, okay?"
Bulma disappeared inside, and the door clicked shut.
Goku slumped against the wall, ready to wait it out, but he didn't stay relaxed for long.
His nose twitched.
He caught a scent.
"Hey, Oolong..." Goku blinked, swaying on his feet.
"Why is the floor moving?"
"I told you..." Oolong's voice was thick, slurring. His legs gave out, and he hit the carpet.
"Something's... wrong...
" "Yeah... nap time..."
It didn't smell like anything.
It just turned their brains off.
Gravity took hold, and Goku slid down the wall next to Oolong, out cold before he even stopped moving.
Kurella moved down the hall wearing a gas mask, her heels sinking into the carpet to keep her steps silent.
She glanced down at the heap of bodies against the wall and curled her lip.
She stepped over them without breaking stride, raising a pistol with a long, black suppressor.
She took her spot in front of the bathroom door and froze.
Arm extended.
Gun leveled.
Waiting.
Inside the stall, Bulma wasn't fixing her makeup.
She was pressed against the door, listening hard.
She'd felt it the second she walked in, the air was dead.
No circulation.
When she heard the double thump of bodies hitting the carpet outside, she didn't need to guess.
She knew exactly what had happened.
She looked up, spotting a small ventilation grate near the ceiling.
She must have sabotaged the corridor's vents to knock them out.
Bulma scrambled up the sink.
She twisted the grate free and pulled herself into the darkness of the ceiling.
Outside, the assassin was staring at a closed door, waiting.
Bulma was gone, crawling through the dust, circling back to Kurella.
Kurella stood in the silent hallway, her finger tightening on the trigger as she looked down at the unconscious forms of Goku and Oolong.
Why isn't she coming out? ...Did she know? Mai told me she was a genius, but I didn't think... No. If she sensed something was wrong, if she played me... I will kill her slowly.
She looked at the unconscious Goku.
She leveled the pistol at his head, ready to pull the trigger.
Très bien. If she wants to play games, fine. I will just dispose of the trash while I wait.
The trigger was halfway back when the gun exploded.
A flash of light cut through, drilling straight into the weapon.
The impact jerked her arm back, leaving the pistol smoking and useless.
"AGH!"
Kurella screamed.
She flung the pistol away like it had bitten her.
The weapon hit the rug, glowing hot enough to melt the fibers instantly.
She stumbled back, cradling her blistered palm against her chest.
Bulma stepped out and kept the PC-01 Firefly leveled.
A thin ribbon of gray smoke drifting from the emitter lens.
The bathroom... she wasn't in the bathroom? Impossible! I was watching the door! How did she... the vents? Did she crawl through the ceiling like a rat while I was standing right there?!
Bulma kept her left hand clamped over her face, pinching her nostrils shut until it hurt.
The hallway was still full of the invisible fumes that had dropped the boys, and she wasn't planning on joining them for a nap.
"You slipped up the second you said you were a fan. I'm a lab rat, not a celebrity. I've never been on TV, and I haven't even filed a patent yet. The only way you know my name is if you memorized a target file. I was playing along to see what you were planning, but you got impatient and went straight for the kill."
She stood up tall.
She didn't check the wound.
She didn't wince.
Kurella simply stared Bulma down, acting like getting shot was beneath her notice.
"Tiens, tiens. So the princess has teeth. I admit, I miscalculated. Usually, I just pour a little honey in someone's ear, and their brain shuts off. They get so busy loving themselves, they don't even feel the knife until it cuts."
Kurella stepped over the smoking remains of her gun without looking down.
"You should have stayed stupid. If you hadn't noticed, you would be asleep right now. Drifting off. Peaceful. But because you are so clever... now you have to be awake while I take you apart."
Bulma didn't wait for a speech.
She thumbed the power dial up and squeezed the trigger again.
A line of red fire slashed through the hallway.
It should have hit.
It didn't.
Kurella snapped backward, launching herself into a handspring with a speed that made no sense. One second she was there, the next, dodging the shot before Bulma could even blink
When the woman landed, she stood up with her usual rigid, statuesque posture.
"You think that little toy is going to touch me again? S'il vous plaît."
...!!!
But her expression of cold apathy cracked instantly.
"Quoi?!"
Bulma's shot hadn't missed, it had clipped the side of the assassin's face, specifically melting and shattering the specialized gas mask she had been wearing.
"Sale gamine!"
Kurella tried to speak, but it came out as a wet, raspy cough.
"Go ahead. Try to get close to them. You'll be unconscious on the floor before you take three steps."
Bulma didn't wait to see the reaction.
Her lungs were starting to burn.
She spun around and sprinted for the fire exit, crashing through the door and taking the stairs two at a time.
Kurella froze.
She looked at the Goku and Oolong right there against the wall, but she couldn't move.
The air between them was poison.
If she took one step forward, she'd drop right next to them.
She slammed her uninjured fist into the drywall, screaming as she realized she had blocked her own shot.
She thinks she outsmarted me? Moi?! Oh, ma chérie... you are going to regret that thought. Your little friends are going to be asleep for hours. I just need to peel you off the pavement, and then finishing them will be like slaughtering sheep in a pen.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////
Bulma took the stairs two at a time, gripping the railing to keep from falling.
She forced herself to focus.
Panic was useless.
She needed a plan.
These guys are definitely on that mysterious woman's payroll. But how did they track us down? You don't just guess that we're at the Golden Valley Hotel. Did they tail us all the way from Brown Town? Do they have a tracker on us? No, that's unlikely. But still...
A deafening crash stopped her dead in her tracks.
The lounge window shattered, raining glass down the corridor.
A shape pulled itself through the broken frame, blocking the path.
Kurella had ditched the disguise.
She had hulked out, her skin was dead-grey, her limbs stretched and thick with new muscle. Her face had pushed out into a muzzle, full of sharp teeth.
It was a fox's head on a giant's body. Her eyes weren't human anymore; they were shining bright blue, hungry and wild.
"Ooh la la, so smart! You saved your friends for now. But tell me, Starch... can you calculate how long it takes for me to catch you? Because I can already taste the terror coming off you."
She struck a dramatic, statuesque pose amidst the broken glass, her long, furred tail flicking behind her.
"Take a good look. I am the perfect weapon. I don't just turn into a beast, I own this form. Since you managed to survive this long, I will pay you the respect of a proper introduction. I am Dame Kurella. And that... is the last name you will ever hear."
Bulma backed away, clutching her purse and keeping the PC-01 Firefly aimed at the beast.
"Wait. You're... you're an Animalia type?"
"Is that how you define my nature? Do you really think a word like that covers this level of perfection?"
Dame Kurella let out a sharp, barking laugh that chilled Bulma to the bone.
"Let me make it simple for you. I am not some common stray. I can cage this form or let it loose whenever I please... all thanks to the gift of the Great Pilaf."
"So you use it like a power up. Huh. I thought the damage from that serum was irreversible. It looks like some crazy scientist found a way to stabilize the freak show aspect just to use you. It's impressive, in a really gross way."
"You think that is impressive? Just wait. You can admire my technique from the other side of the grave!"
Kurella attacked.
She covered the distance in two strides, claws out.
Bulma fired the Firefly, but the shot went wide.
The monster moved faster than eyesight, ducking the blast and weaving through the smoke.
Bulma tried to track her, but it was useless.
Kurella was already on top of her.
She couldn't hit her.
Bulma reached for her backup plan, the rig strapped to her leg.
She snagged an emergency capsule, primed it, and threw it down just as Kurella closed the distance.
POOF!
The capsule burst.
A tangle of thick white strands exploded outward, plastering the floor, ceiling, and walls in a split second.
It wasn't just smoke; it was a hardened web that sealed the hallway shut.
Kurella slammed on the brakes, her claws tearing up the carpet to stop before she hit the barrier. She snarled and slashed at the obstruction, but the material didn't break, it just stretched, rubbery and annoying, absorbing the blow.
Bulma scrambled backward to get out of range, as she watched the monster struggle against her invention.
"Heh! Nice try, foxy. But that web is tougher than steel cable. Unless you have a chainsaw hidden in that fur, you aren't getting through." Bulma shouted, catching her breath.
The wall of webbing groaned and snapped.
Kurella was tearing it apart.
Okay. I stand corrected.
Bulma saw a claw punch through the white mesh and decided it was time to leave.
She ran, skidding out onto the tenth-floor landing. She almost ran right over a short man standing in her path.
He was eerily still, ignoring the noise from above. He wore a pinstriped suit with a blood-red shirt, and despite the dim hallway light, he had sunglasses on.
He turned a page of his newspaper, totally unbothered.
"Move! There is a monster tearing the hallway apart upstairs. You want to stay alive? Run!"
The man hadn't even blinked.
He slowly folded his newspaper, tucking it under his arm like he was waiting for a bus, not a monster.
"Relax, sweetheart, take a breath. I'm not leaving until I find Miss Westar. Rumor has it she's a handful. Is she always this loud?"
"This isn't a joke! If you stay here, you're going to die! She's coming!"
The man didn't just shift his weight; he struck a pose.
He popped his hip and tipped his sunglasses with a flourish that belonged on a Broadway stage, looking at her like she was his audience.
"You got some lungs on you, ah? A little too noisy for a library, maybe... but perfect for me. I always liked the loud ones, bella. They make such beautiful music when they start to break."
"Huh?"
Bulma stared at him.
She didn't know what to do with that sentence, it was too weird, too calm.
But she didn't get a chance to answer.
A crash echoed from the floor above, closer than before.
Bulma spun around, ignoring the mobster and aiming her weapon back at the stairwell. Behind her, the little man just laughed.
It was a dry, scratching sound, like sandpaper on stone.
Under the brim of his hat, his eyes flashed a sick, bright yellow.
"You expecting the Dame? My... esteemed associate? Ah, peccato. Hate to break it to you, doll, but you're looking in the wrong direction, miss."
...!!
Bulma whipped the Firefly around, aiming straight for the center of his chest.
"You're one of them."