“You think he’ll talk to me?” Goku asked doubtfully.

The guard shrugged. “Probably no ... but I’ve seen you make friends with a houseplant, so here’s hoping.”

The low light made it hard for Goku to see anything more than a surprisingly small silhouette. As Goku stepped inside the cell, the shadowed figure turned his head to look at Goku. “You’re not the King.”

“No, but I’m the King’s son, and I’m here to listen to what you have to say,” Goku ventured. 

“Fire whoever chose your clothes. There. That’s all I have to say.”

Goku shrugged. “I’d have to fire myself then.” 

“My point stands.”

Well, at least this one was witty. As Goku walked over to the square table bolted to the centre of the room, more of the stranger’s features came into view.

A proud profile, high cheekbones, sharp jawline. The navy prison jumpsuit he wore was at least two sizes too big, hanging baggily off a small frame. 

Goku’s heart stopped.

“You’re -a Vegeta,” he realized. 

“I am Vegeta,” Vegeta corrected, tone haughty like the prince he wasn’t. “Vegeta the fourth.”

There was no mistaking the flame shaped spikes that crowned his head, nor the red streak unique to the Vegeta line.

Goku shook his head, tail twitching. “Why - how - ” He swallowed. “I thought all from the Vegeta line were dead.”  They died out with the bloodthirsty tyrant King Vegeta III. At least, that was what the history books said. 

“You and your father would know all about that, wouldn’t you? And yet, here I am.” Charcoal eyes pinned Goku in place, contempt so deep it would drown a lesser Saiyan. “ A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”

-a snippet for my KakaVege week fic, prompt “secret agents”

@kakavegeweek