Bringer of Death

Chapter 105: False Prophets

World Championships Saga, Part 5: False Prophets

Vegeta stared at his reflection, scrunching his nose as the last droplet of water trickled off and down into the sink. He half expected the mirror to warp into some magical trap any second, or to hear the wizard's voice in his head, but there was nothing. Calling out to Babidi hadn't baited the ancient mystic out of the shadows, and if it had upset any of his plans there was no sign of it. An air conditioning vent kicked on above him, frustrating Vegeta's senses further with cool air against his damp skin.

'This is my mess to clean up. The last thing I need is that damn Kakarott or the Namek getting involved.' He huffed, shaking his white glove dry and clenching his fists. 'But if the mess with Yamcha is any indication of what's to come, Babidi has laid far better traps for us than I expected. That bastard...'

Just outside, Yamcha was surrounded by medics, amazed at his sudden recovery. Goku's instant transmission had made the trip to Korin's and back in mere seconds, proving to all he could stay focused when a life depended on it. In spite of seeing the senzu work themselves, the doctors still insisted on a full inspection. That could mean they were either very thorough doing their job, or, Vegeta supposed, that they were slaves of Babidi meant to stall the Earthling fighter for some reason.

"Get away from him, you morons," came the Saiyan's voice unexpectedly. The scattering doctors were almost hurled aside by the miniscule, invisible kiai accompanied Vegeta's words. "Leave. You were already informed he's completely healed!" He turned to Yamcha. "Now, you! What else do you remember?"

The human looked a little rattled still, but smiled weakly. "Nothing except what I told everyone else a minute ago," he answered. "It had to be magic though, that I'm sure of. Strong too. I've been around that stuff before, but this was on a whole other level."

Vegeta mused silently, trying to piece any of it together. For what purpose had Yamcha been deliberately turned into an exploding man? If this was all just Babidi's attempt to get rid of him, nothing made sense. Whatever his true aim was, though, it would have to involve the tournament... and that inclusion in particular had the Saiyan prince puzzled.

He rolled back the sleeve of his glove, raising up his Imperial communicator to his mouth and sending a signal to his next in charge. Transmitting across interstellar space, and enabling phone call speeds for conversation, was something Bulma had figured out before her first trip to Namek—when she casually dialed up the Kame house landline from thousands of lightyears away. But somehow, Vegeta had never thought to ask her to look over his Imperial coms.

"Vegeta, milord, this is Oniya speaking," came a pleasant voice from the device. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sire?"

"Where is Broly?" the prince flatly asked.

"Chief Enforcer Broly is currently in the Eastern Quadrant, sire. Sector 187, in the Therian system. Shall I recall him?"

Vegeta flinched an eyebrow. He could blockade the planet all he wanted, but if Babidi wanted to flee Earth he could just as easily do it by teleportation. What good was an entire fleet when they could be bypassed so effortlessly?

"No, but have him report directly to me after he completes his mission. As for you and the reserves, make your way to Earth immediately. I need eyes and ears on the ground."

"Understood, milord," she answered, keeping her surprise hidden. Vegeta hadn't once in all these years requested their aid on his home planet, which meant whatever situation had arisen was to be considered with utmost seriousness. "With all haste, we should arrive by the end of the day."

Vegeta rolled his glove back down and made his way back towards the room where everyone else was gathered, not feeling much better about things. He wasn't surprised to find them all huddled around Yamcha, but he was curious as to why the towering fighter named Apollo was center among them. Entering the waiting area, he decided to hang back and leaned against the wall, listening from a distance.