Bringer of Death

Otherworld Saga, Part 9: Majcnavn

Otherworld Saga, Part 9: Majcnavn

"Now don't be afraid, it's just a little poke."

Broly looked bewildered. "Afraid? Why would I be afraid of a needle?"

"Oh, uh, no reason," answered Bulma. She smiled wryly, remembering how terrified Goku had been of being pricked.

PING! The thin metal shaft snapped like a twig the instant she pushed it against the lanky Saiyan's vein. Oniya sighed. "You're going to have to lower your power level, Broly, or the needle will never go in."

It had been two days since Bojack's defeat. Dende had arrived as soon as the dust settled to heal everyone, and the Z Fighters quickly went their separate ways. The Bringer of Death had arrived the following day, its hyperdrive once again seriously damaged—another trip to base 79 was inevitable. Before heading off into space again, though, Gohan and Piccolo had insisted that Broly get a medical examination at Capsule Corporation.

"There," Oniya continued, this time getting the second diamond-tipped titanium-alloy needle to pierce his skin—though it took nearly all her strength to force it in. "This'll only take a second; I'm just taking a blood sample. I've studied Saiyan anatomy pretty thoroughly over the years, so I should be able to identify any of your genetic markers that seem abnormal."

"You want to find out what makes me special, then?" Broly said, his face unmoving.

"—It's not like we're experimenting on you or anything," Bulma interrupted with a calm smile. "But you've gotta admit this transformation of yours comes with some pretty major setbacks. I can't imagine what it must be like to have all that power and then lose control."

"We're only trying to identify the cause and gather information. Once we study the data, we might even be able to prescribe medication to help with the symptoms, like a normal doctor would," Oniya said, smoothly removing the needle. "But we won't do anything without your consent; no one will try to suppress or control you. I have seen far too many fall prey to Frieza's manipulations to allow that to happen to anyone again."

Later the same evening, a single window remained lit in the spacious mansion belonging to a different rich family. The room was hot and humid despite its raised ceiling and spacious design. A consistent thumping noise could be heard all the way across the house, finally awakening the tenant and drawing his attention.

As he made his way through the spacious hallways carpeted in velvet, the pajama-wearing champion fought off his desire to yawn. When he reached the room, he paused just outside the door to investigate.

The sounds, muffled from far away, were unmistakable now. He opened the door ever so slightly, allowing only a sliver of light out—just enough to peek in without being noticed.

There she was, still going at it, and with more ferocity than could ever remember seeing. He began to chuckle with pride, but held back his voice before he gave away his presence. His daughter, a girl no older than twelve, was literally bounding off the side walls and leaping through the air acrobatically. Once airborne, she would strike the same invisible spot each time. She had no visible training target, and yet whatever variant of attack she practiced, she never missed. More, she was running four and five steps up the wall before pushing off, easily getting around fifteen or twenty feet up. Each landing made him cringe and almost look away, fearful she'd crash horribly at any second, but she didn't.

Hercule gulped suddenly as he saw the girl's face become even more serious. Videl took a deep breath, looked at her surroundings one last time, then shut her eyes completely. Without a moment's hesitation, she dashed forward and bounded up another wall, then pushed off, leaping higher yet into the air.