Cold sweat trickled down Yajirobe's face as he stared at the barrel of the gun, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. The room felt too still, too quiet, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Appule's smirk widened, his finger tightening on the trigger with agonizing slowness.
Then, in a split second-CRASH!
The silence shattered. The door to the attached toilet exploded outward, sending shards of metal flying. A figure, cloaked and hooded, moved faster than Yajirobe's eyes could follow.
A scream tore through the air. It was Appule's. His eyes bulged in horror as the figure's arm plunged through his abdomen, the pistol clattering to the floor. Blood splattered like ink on the walls, and Yajirobe felt the world spin as the color drained from his face.
The figure withdrew their arm, letting Appule's body slump to the floor like a discarded ragdoll. Without a word, the cloaked figure raised a hand, and with a flick of the wrist, a ki blast hissed from it's fingertip, silencing Appule's body forever.
Across the ship, Zarbon froze mid-step, his sharp hearing catching the distant echo of Appule's scream. "What... was that?" His voice was low, tense.
Dodoria's usual bravado faltered, eyes widening. "Appule?" The two warriors exchanged a worried glance, then bolted toward the source of the sound, their footsteps pounding in the halls.
Inside the room, the cloaked figure moved with eerie precision. Before Yajirobe could utter a word, a firm arm snaked around his neck and dragged him toward the shattered toilet door. Yajirobe's mind reeled, limbs heavy with shock. Who was this? Was he being rescued, or being taken to an even worse fate?
The figure kicked the remains of the door shut behind them with a sharp crack. They leapt into the alien toilet with Yajirobe in tow. A sharp gust of cold air hit Yajirobe's face as the wall shimmered, and then vanished. In its place was the vast emptiness of the planet's surface, blue grass stretching out over the desolate wasteland.
With a flick of their wrist, the figure blasted the ground below. To Yajirobe's shock, it revealed a dark hidden tunnel. Without a second thought, they dove in, dragging Yajirobe with them. As soon as they got inside, the figure kicked the tunnel's wall causing the entrance to seal itself behind them. The soil above shifted back into place as though they had never even been there.
...
Zarbon and Dodoria burst into the room, their boots screeching as they skidded to a stop. Their eyes widened in shock. Appule's body lay motionless in a pool of blood, his head reduced to a gruesome mess. The room was thick with the metallic stench of death, but of Yajirobe, there was no trace.
Zarbon's jaw tightened, fury simmering beneath his cool exterior. Dodoria's gaze swept the room. Slight dread settled in his stomach. Something had gone terribly wrong.
Then Zarbon's eyes caught something: the shattered door of the toilet, splintered as if blown apart from the inside. His brow furrowed in realization. "He can't have gone far," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Dodoria glanced at the wreckage, a spark of recognition flashing in his eyes. "Damn it," he muttered.
Zarbon didn't waste another second. "Spread the soldiers!" he barked, his voice snapping like a whip. "Find them!"
Hours passed...
Yajirobe's legs burned, his lungs heavy with exhaustion as the figure finally slowed. They had descended into a chamber. It was a strange, sophisticated room for something hidden underground. Faint, glowing symbols etched into the walls gave off a cold, alien light.
The cloaked figure turned toward Yajirobe, hands rising slowly to the hood.
Yajirobe held his breath, panic rising in his chest.
The hood slid back, and it revealed a face Yajirobe never expected to see.
Yajirobe's eyes went wide, his mind spinning in disbelief. "No... it can't be!"
Before he could say another word, the rotund swordsman fainted from shock, his body crumpling to the floor.
...........
Meanwhile, on another corner of the Planet Namek...
Vegeta's eyes fluttered open, his mind groggy but racing. 'Where am I?' Panic flickered through him for an instant. The atmosphere around him was unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed him. 'Heaven?' He scoffed at the thought. No, it couldn't be. He had spilled too much blood, caused too much destruction. Heaven wasn't for people like him.
He tried to move, to shout, but his body betrayed him. He felt paralyzed, trapped in his own skin. 'I'm a Saiyan prince,' he thought bitterly, 'feared across galaxies, and yet...' Rage flared in his chest, but even that fire felt distant, dulled by whatever had happened to him.
With a painful effort, Vegeta summoned his ki. His muscles, weak and unresponsive, fought against him. Slowly, humiliatingly, he managed to turn his head.
He blinked. Two Namekian children stood just outside the door, stirring something in a pot over a small stove.
The pungent smell hit him then, and his stomach churned. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'What kind of madness is this?' He thought, his disdain intensifying. 'Are they actually cooking that filth to eat?'
Vegeta turned his head away, gritting his teeth as their childish conversation grated against his senses. 'A Saiyan prince,' he thought darkly, 'reduced to this: living at the mercy of children.'
The feeling of helplessness tightened around him again, suffocating his pride. How had it come to this? A warrior prince, unable to move, forced to endure this indignity. His fists trembled weakly at his sides.
'Zarbon.' His heart raced as the memory surged back. That smug fool had crushed him. Again. The image of Zarbon slamming him into the dirt replayed in his mind. Vegeta had fought, clawed his way to power, and yet... he had blacked out. He had lost.
But he refused to accept it. 'I will not be defeated. Not like this... not ever.'
.......
Frieza's fury was palpable as he listened to Zarbon and Dodoria's report. The icy tyrant stood looking outside of the ship's window, his back rigid and unyielding. "This is a disgrace," he snarled, his voice icy and cutting. "You allowed someone to escape with the prisoner right under your noses!"
Zarbon bowed his head, shame etched into his features.
Frieza's mind raced, calculating the implications of this new variable. "And I assume you didn't verify if Vegeta was truly dead either."
Zarbon's eyes flickered with momentary panic. "He is dead, sire," he asserted with forced confidence. "The beating I gave him ensured his demise."
Frieza turned his head, fixing Zarbon with a cold, sidelong glance. "Are you suggesting I'm mistaken, Zarbon?"
Zarbon's face drained of color. "Of course not, sire," he stammered.
Dodoria, drenched in sweat, watched the exchange with growing anxiety.
Frieza's scowl deepened; he abhorred any loss of control over the situation. "You are both worthless," he growled. "I'll call in the Ginyu Force. Perhaps they'll handle this mess properly."
Zarbon's eyes widened in alarm. "The Ginyu Force? But, sire, isn't that a bit extreme?"
Dodoria swallowed hard, his face paling further. "Yes, sire. The Ginyu Force is... well, they're known for their ruthless efficiency. Are we sure we need them for this?"
Frieza's gaze hardened as he regarded them both, causing the two to shudder.
Zarbon looked down. Frieza was serious. He was actually calling in the Ginyu Force. That never happened unless both he and Dodoria were away on a mission too difficult for the regular troops.
With them coming to the planet… would he and Dodoria even be needed anymore?
Zarbon's mouth dropped open as the realization set in, his lips quivering.
To be continued...