A breeze blew by, shaking Vegeta and Yajirobe's hair. The silence was oppressive. Yajirobe looked scared to the bone.
Behind the boulder, Krillin and Yamcha were sweating, their brows furrowed in concentration.
Seconds passed, and Vegeta's smirk widened as he saw Frieza's two right-hand men land before him. "Zarbon... Dodoria... it's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Zarbon's expression was cold and unamused. "Enough with the pleasantries, Vegeta. Get to the point."
"I will," Vegeta replied, his tone dripping with confidence.
Dodoria growled, his patience wearing thin. "This better not be a joke, Vegeta, or you'll pay with your life."
Unfazed, Vegeta's smirk remained. With deliberate calm, he pulled a small vial from his pocket and tossed it to Zarbon.
Zarbon caught it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as he examined the bottle. "And this is...?"
Vegeta's voice was low and dangerous. "Syanide. The deadliest poison in the universe. I want you to mix it into Frieza's favorite wine."
Dodoria's jaw dropped. "Where the hell did you get this, Vegeta?"
Vegeta merely smiled, offering no answer.
Dodoria shot a glance at Zarbon, awaiting his reaction.
Vegeta continued, his voice dripping with malice. "This poison will cripple him, reducing his power level by more than ten times. In his weakened state, you two will strike with everything you've got. Finish him."
Zarbon's eyes narrowed further, suspicion lacing his voice. "Even with the enormous sum you're offering, Vegeta, is it really worth risking our necks? Losing Frieza as an employer could be a permanent setback."
Vegeta shook his head, leaning in slightly. "You're thinking too small, Zarbon. Once Frieza's gone, who do you think will inherit his empire? He has no heir, no successors."
A slow smirk spread across Zarbon's face as realization dawned. "I see... You intend for us to take the throne."
Vegeta chuckled darkly. "Always knew you were the sharp one, Zarbon. And don't you worry about the Ginyus. They are too gullible to figure anything out."
Zarbon smiled. "I see. But surely you expect something in return, Vegeta," he pressed, his voice sly.
Vegeta waved off the concern. "We'll deal with that later. My first priority is breaking free from Frieza's chains. And killing him is the only way out."
Dodoria, still uneasy, grunted. "We'll need some advance payment...in cash."
Vegeta didn't hesitate. He reached into his armor and pulled out a hefty bundle of notes, tossing it to Zarbon.
Zarbon caught the money with a smirk. "Keep your scouter on, Vegeta," he said, leaping into the air. "Dodoria, let's go."
Dodoria, still wrestling with his doubts, hesitated but then followed suit. As they ascended, he voiced his concern. "Are you really sure about this, Zarbon? What about Cooler or King Cold? How do we explain this to them?"
Zarbon remained silent, his mind already calculating the risks and rewards.
. . .
Back on the ground, Vegeta's smirk faded into a serious expression. His entire plan hinged on their greed and fear. If all went according to plan, Frieza's reign would end, and Vegeta would be one step closer to his ultimate goal.
Yajirobe, who had been watching the exchange quietly, finally spoke up. "So... who's this Frieza guy you're trying to off? He sounds like bad news."
Vegeta shot him a warning glance. "You don't want to know, fatso. Trust me."
..
Krillin and Yamcha, still hidden behind the rock, were drenched in sweat. The power levels they had just felt were beyond anything they had ever encountered.
Yamcha's voice trembled as he whispered, "I thought we were strong, but out here, we're nothing."
Krillin nodded, his face pale. "And there's someone even Vegeta is scared of… this Frieza."
..
Vegeta strolled back to his pod, leaning against it with a pensive look on his face.
Yajirobe's stomach growled. "Hey, Vegeta. How about I go scrounge up some food?"
Vegeta's response was quick and sharp. "No." He knew Frieza's soldiers were crawling all over the planet. And for now, he needed Yajirobe close, as frustrating as that was.
With a resigned sigh, Yajirobe slumped down and pulled out a small sachet of nutrient powder from his pocket. He grimaced as he swallowed it, the taste as awful as ever.
. . . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .
Mr. Popo soared through the sky at his top speed, the wind whistling past his ears. His gaze was fixed ahead, where a tall, narrow cliff jutted out from the landscape. At its peak stood a large, white Namekian house, its domed structure glowing softly under the green sky.
Mr. Popo landed lightly on the cliff and approached the house, his feet barely making a sound on the smooth, stone pathway. The building was imposing, its rounded architecture blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.
He reached the door and pressed the bell. The sound echoed through the house, a sharp RING! RING! that reverberated off the walls.
.
"NAIIL!" A deep voice boomed from within. "We have a visitor!"
Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a tall, muscular Namekian with a serious expression. He looked down at Mr. Popo, his face softening into a smile. "Mr. Popo... it's been a long time."
Mr. Popo blinked, a look of confusion crossing his usually composed features. "Who are you?"
The tall Namekian paused, surprised by the question. "You don't remember me? It's Nail."
Mr. Popo's eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned. "Oh, Nail! I apologize. I didn't recognize you. The last time I saw you, you were just a little boy!"
Nail chuckled, stepping aside to let Mr. Popo in. "Time has a way of changing us all. Come in, Mr. Popo. Guru will be pleased to see you."
As Mr. Popo entered the house, the cool air inside provided a welcome contrast to the heat outside. The interior was vast, with high ceilings and walls adorned with ancient Namekian symbols. The atmosphere was heavy with a sense of history and respect.
Nail led the way upstairs, the echo of their footsteps filling the silence. Mr. Popo glanced around, taking in the familiar intricate details of the place.
"Guru is waiting for you," Nail said, stopping in front of a massive door at the end of the stairs. He pushed it open, revealing a spacious chamber filled with a soft light.
At the far end of the room, seated on a grand throne, was Guru, the eldest Namekian. His wise eyes were closed, but his presence was overwhelming.
Nail stood back respectfully, allowing Mr. Popo to step forward alone. As Mr. Popo drew nearer, Guru's eyes slowly opened, and a gentle smile spread across his face.
"Welcome, Mr. Popo," Guru said in a deep, resonant voice. "It has been many years since we last met. What brings you to my home today?"
Back on Earth...
Goku and Tien descended from the sky, landing softly at Khami's lookout. The serene, elevated platform was bathed in sunlight, and the gentle breeze carried the faint scent of flowers from the gardens below. In the distance, Khami and Korin sat together, sipping tea from delicate porcelain cups.
A newspaper lay open on the table between them, rustling slightly in the breeze. Khami was engrossed in conversation with the white-furred cat.
"I still can't believe Gelsea lost so easily," Khami mused, his voice tinged with mild disbelief.
Korin nodded in agreement, his tail swishing lazily behind him. "I know. Cadrid is still a force to be reckoned with."
Khami took a contemplative sip from his cup. "And that's despite Tonaldo leaving the team."
As they approached, Goku and Tien exchanged puzzled glances, clearly not following the conversation.
Tien cleared his throat, breaking the quiet chatter. "Ahem."
Khami looked up from his cup, momentarily surprised by the interruption.
Goku grinned, his usual carefree energy radiating from him. "What's up, Khami?"
Khami blinked a few times, recognizing the visitors. "Oh, Goku… and Tien. It's truly been a long time."
Goku's expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "You haven't heard from Mr. Popo recently, have you?"
Khami shook his head, setting his cup down. "No, I haven't. But I expect he must be close to Namek by now. He promised to contact me as soon as he arrived."
"Oh," Goku replied, a note of concern in his voice.
Meanwhile, Tien walked over to where Korin was sitting, his demeanor calm but focused. "Hey, Korin. How's it going?"
Korin looked up, a smile spreading across his face. "Fantastic," he replied.
Tien returned the smile, albeit faintly, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
. . . .
Back at Goku's house, Chichi was gently feeding their baby, her movements slow and tender. The child's soft coos filled the room, adding to the warmth of the moment. Ox-King, a massive figure, sat in a sturdy chair at one end of the room, his gaze distant and wistful.
"If only your mother had lived to see this day," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "She would have been so happy to see her grandchild."
Chichi sighed softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and acceptance. "Yes, Papa. But we all must leave this world someday."
Ox-King nodded glumly, the weight of years settling on his broad shoulders.
Chichi glanced toward the window, her brow furrowing slightly. "I hope Goku gets back soon. I don't want him catching another cold."
The Ox-King chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the room. "Don't worry, dear. He'll be fine."
Suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door, breaking the peaceful atmosphere.
"I wonder who that could be?" Ox-King muttered as he rose from his chair, his large frame moving with surprising grace. He made his way to the door and opened it.
Standing there, with a familiar mischievous grin, was Master Roshi. "Well, hello, Ox-King!"
"Master Roshi!" Ox-King exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face.
The old martial arts master chuckled. "Hehehe. Where's Goku?"
"He's at Khami's place," Ox-King replied.
"Ah, I see," Master Roshi nodded thoughtfully. "And Tien is with him too."
Ox-King looked expectantly at the old master. "Come on, Master. At least have a cup of coffee with us!"
Master Roshi shook his head, his expression unusually serious. "Sorry, Ox, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'll see you later!"
With that, Master Roshi hopped back into his car, the engine sputtering to life as he shifted into reverse. In no time, he was speeding away, the tires kicking up dust on the road.
Ox-King watched him go, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. "That's strange. Master Roshi never usually behaves like that."
. . .
As Master Roshi drove toward Khami's place, his forehead glistened with sweat. A shiver ran down his spine as memories from the previous night resurfaced, sending a chill through his old bones.
. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .
Namek
Zarbon and Dodoria finally landed in front of Frieza's massive spaceship, its towering presence casting long shadows over the barren landscape. The vessel gleamed under the harsh light of the alien sun, its surface reflecting a cold, metallic sheen that seemed to echo the icy nature of its master.
As their boots touched the ground, a regiment of Frieza's soldiers quickly assembled in neat rows, their armor clinking as they snapped to attention. The soldiers offered a crisp salute, their faces betraying no emotion, just the disciplined resolve drilled into them by years of service.
Zarbon's piercing eyes swept over the line of soldiers, his gaze as sharp as the edge of a blade. "Where's Bawarci, the chef?" he demanded, his voice cool and commanding.
One of the soldiers stepped forward, his posture stiff. "He's inside, preparing Lord Frieza's next meal, sir."
Without another word, Zarbon nodded and strode past the soldiers, the hem of his elegant cape brushing against the ground as he moved with practiced grace.
Dodoria, lagging slightly behind, allowed a sinister grin to spread across his brutish face. "You boys might be in for a surprise soon," he sneered, his voice laced with dark amusement.
A few of the soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their eyebrows twitching with curiosity, but none dared to speak out. They knew better than to question their superiors—especially when those superiors were as dangerous as Zarbon and Dodoria.
With a nasty chuckle, Dodoria followed Zarbon inside the spaceship, the heavy doors closing behind them with a resounding thud.
.... . . . . . . . . . .
Krillin and Yamcha were still huddled behind the rock, their bodies tense from the hours of waiting. The alien planet's grass, an unnaturally vibrant blue, had long since lost its novelty, and the two Earthlings were growing restless.
Yamcha leaned closer to Krillin, his voice barely a whisper. "Man, how much longer are we supposed to sit here like this?"
Krillin, his brow furrowed with exhaustion, shook his head. "Don't ask me. Vegeta's the one calling the shots now."
...
Not far from them, Yajirobe had succumbed to his own exhaustion, dozing off on the soft blue grass. His gentle snores were the only sounds to be heard at the moment.
Vegeta, meanwhile, sat in silent contemplation, leaning against his space-pod. His mind was a storm of thoughts and calculations, but outwardly, he remained as stoic as ever. His scouter flickered with life, showing him the faint signals that indicated Zarbon and Dodoria had arrived at Frieza's spaceship. A thin smile played on his lips, a sign that his plan was unfolding just as he had intended.
To be continued...