Malachi was looking down at him with an utter lack of mirth. There was a darkness that hadn't been there before of the kind he had never seen before and he had flirted with darkness quite often. He thought by now he was an expert in all things evil. He had traversed that road. He had been that person. He had faced his darkest fears, peered into the eyes of Frieza.

The darkness he saw now was not out of desperation, not from grooming, not one that could be explained, or promised the familiar sensation of pain or torture. It was simply something that existed, twisted and undeniable; something insatiable that could not be quenched or talked down. This was not something that had any hope of improving. There was no sense to be made. Because his mind could not comprehend it, he couldn't stop the fear from setting in.

Why was he looking at him like that? Why couldn't he move?

"One day," Malachi said slowly, his eyes like coal, "I'll capture your heart as well."

He felt himself sinking and an overwhelming sense of dread threatening to take over his state of mind. A pain in his gut only seemed to worsen and did not seem to have an end. The pain simply intensified in an infinite manner until he could he could hardly register it as pain at all. Yet he could not move to writhe in pain. He could not wake from the dream; he felt trapped.

He felt something tearing at his chest. Flesh being torn away with steady persistence. Blood began to splatter onto Malachi's clean face and he began to grin with dark amusement. All Vegeta could do was watch helplessly. He heard a squishy sound and it made him feel queasy. It was a bit unnerving to not feel the pain he knew should have accompanied such mutilation. There was too much blood pooling around him, he should have been dead. Instead, he watched Malachi's determined endeavor and then as his motions stopped. His hand gripped the organ he'd been so desperately searching for.

That was when he felt the onslaught of excruciating pain, the pain he thought he was used to, but it seemed he'd grown soft over his many years on Earth. He cried out helplessly. The popping sound of veins being uprooted made him cringe involuntarily. Malachi wore a face of true devious delight as he held the dislodged heart up for all to see.

Vegeta could hardly think straight as his eyes focused on the organ, barely comprehending what had just occurred. The pain only intensified as Malachi easily crushed the heart in his hand. More blood splattered. He couldn't understand why he was still conscious. He saw everything clearly, he felt everything clearly. He watched as Malachi began to devour the fleshy bits left in his palm. He watched the slender dark haired man lick his hand clean. His tongue licked his lips of the crimson liquid left behind.

He bent down, his face becoming far too close to him. His perfect teeth gleamed with uncanny whiteness as he bent down closer still to speak in his ear. "I will destroy you, Vegeta. I will show you what true evil is."

That was when his eyes whipped open. He breathed heavily and he sweated profusely. It took him a moment to feel Bulma's hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" Bulma asked quietly, "You were moaning in your sleep."

His eyes sought her out as he concentrated on calming himself.

"It's been so long since I had one of those," Vegeta croaked wearily; 'those' referring to night terrors.

"Frieza again?" Bulma asked.

"No…it's something silly."

"You know you can tell me anything," Bulma reminded him, her hand had not left his arm.

"It was about Malachi," Vegeta said singularly. "What do you think of him, truthfully?"

"Well," Bulma said thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side on her pillow, "I think he's a pleasant young man, extremely talented entertainer—"

"Do you think it's a façade? That there might be…something he's hiding?" Vegeta interrupted her string of compliments.

"Aren't we all hiding something?" Bulma said after a moment, "I don't think it's a façade. I think he means everything he says and when he gets that smile—you know the one that really lights up his face, makes the girls swoon"—Vegeta grumbled at this—"he's really happy. Does he try to hide when he's irritated or annoyed?—yes, but I think that comes with the territory. In fact, I think I can learn a thing or two from him with dealing with the public and keeping up a certain appearance."

"So in your opinion, he's perfect, no real faults."

"It sounds like you're fishing for something. No one's perfect. You've been hanging out with him more than me these days. What do you think?"

"I think…I don't know enough about him."

"Then ask him. He respects you a lot and would probably answer if you ask."

"I don't have any real questions. I've researched all there is to know about him."

"Oh? Is that right? Maybe all you need is for him to confirm. Reading it is one thing. Hearing it straight from him is different."

"Perhaps," Vegeta replied decisively.

He was stepping into unknown territories. Following his instincts had always served him well in the past, but in this new world he lived, often it would lead him astray. Bra was in love with Malachi and Bulma, the only person's advice he trusted without question, had no qualms with him. Not to mention the entire human population couldn't get enough of him it seemed. Was he the only one who had misgivings?

Or was he simply afraid?

The very notion gave him pause. No human could ever make him feel that way. Yet his thoughts returned to the blades of grass, how they had disintegrated with a mere thought. A couple days ago he had performed a technique that had required Goku receive training from another realm to learn and Malachi's skill of performance trumped Goku's by miles. The kind of control Malachi effortlessly had over his own energy was nothing short of remarkable. Had he been born a Saiyan, he would have been quite formidable in his own right.

Vegeta hadn't forgotten about that flash of uncouth anger. He hid it well, but Vegeta knew it was there simmering just below the surface. It wasn't that it was there that bothered Vegeta, it was whether Malachi had the strength of character to maintain control. Maybe he would find that answer by doing as Bulma suggested.

He rested easy for the remainder of the night knowing that he had a plan to quell the last of his misgivings.


Music permeated through the house. A unique group of voices weaved together to create a beautiful tapestry of musical synchronicity. Then one masculine voice began the verse as the other voices continued to support and fill out the song. Vegeta was momentarily transfixed. What sounds were bombarding his ears? —it was inexplicable and placed him into a pleasant mood. Were these human voices which could sound almost seraph-like?

He finally continued his approach to Malachi's ki signature somewhere within the house. He traversed downstairs and found the youth in the central room doing odd, unnatural stretching exercises. Arms and legs should not have been able to stretch that far, but Malachi seemed to be able to do this with marked ease. Vegeta waited until the other was in a more relaxed position—cross-legged—before making himself known.

"Malachi," Vegeta said gruffly to get the man's attention.

He was glad he'd waited as Malachi nearly jumped out of his skin, his relaxed expression suddenly became that of open fear for a split second before leaning downward to hold his racing heart practically leaping out of his chest.

"Shit, man, my heart got stuck in my throat for a second there. What the hell is wrong with knocking?—or using the damn phone," Malachi said in embarrassed frustration. He soon used a nearby remote to turn down the volume of the music.

"I doubt you'd hear that with all the loud music," Vegeta answered with a grin. "Surely by now you've learned to sense ki; you must stay alert."

Malachi was still holding his chest though his breath had returned to normal, "My concentration was elsewhere. I do tend to put too much focus on one thing and miss events happening around me. A bad habit perhaps, but it helps more than hinders."

"I see. And what the hell kind of exercise is this? Certainly nothing I've taught," Vegeta questioned when he now stood in front of Malachi's sitting form.

"Oh if only my world revolved around you—then I'd only do your exercises. It's called yoga. I've been gaining muscle lately, losing flexibility. I need to maintain that in order to perform in the same way. I'm sure my fans would notice immediately if anything changed."

Vegeta grunted at this. "And how goes your other training?"

"Well," Malachi looked at the other guiltily, "I've been slacking."

Vegeta's eyebrows creased in irritation.

"I think I've achieved what I wanted from your regimen, I simply need to maintain not increase which does not require that I kill myself each day." Then his eyes turned away from him. "Besides, Bra doesn't like me training like that. It came to my attention that she really detests it."

"So you've given up?" Vegeta growled.

"I have other obligations: Bra, my music," Malachi bit back, "I'd rather fight a battle I'm used to winning. I might have technically 'won' that spar against Krillin, but we both know he was going easy and that he could've ended me effortlessly with a good punch. I was no match and it would probably take years of dedicated training to ever match his strength.

"Not every battle is won by strength. Being able to take advantage of the situation is not something that can be taught. Sometimes it's the difference between life and death."

"It was just a spar. Look, I appreciate what you've done for me. I imagine not many humans have trained under you, but anything further wouldn't be justified by the reason we started in the first place."

"And how exactly do you plan to best me if you end it now."

Vegeta rightly assumed that this was something the other had passionately wanted to do as Malachi looked away thoughtfully finally showing some hint of hesitation. Lofty goals perhaps, but it struck a chord with him.

He sighed and then turned back to him, a look of defeat in his eyes. "I've already determined that it's quite impossible for me. Surely, you know that too."

It was that look in his eyes which was really beginning to tick him off. That was not the look of a guy that could give him nightmares. Had his brain only been playing tricks on him? Was he seeing something that simply wasn't there? —or could this all be chalked up to his uneasiness about Bra mating with another. Perhaps he was looking too hard for something to be wrong with him and there actually wasn't anything to find; he was just some normal human guy.

Malachi was no longer looking at him. "I suppose I should have informed you sooner, but everything's been happening so quickly. As soon as I woke up from that 'blackout'—whatever that was—"

Vegeta interrupted him, "You used too much of your energy and there wasn't enough left to remain conscious."

"I had no idea that was possible. I just imagined that I would be tired like before not unconscious." Vegeta could see the wheels turning in his head. "And if that's possible…then I suppose I could have also…"

"No energy, no life."

Malachi's eyes widened, "I had no idea how close to death I was."

"Bra didn't either. No one except me noticed. Usually, one's body naturally retains enough energy to continue functioning, but somewhere along the line, you bypassed that. When someone says they're out of ki, they don't mean it in a literal sense, just that there isn't enough to keep them fundamentally alive."

"I see," Malachi said slowly.

"But it's nothing you'll need to worry over since that was your first and last spar."

His eyes seemed to sadden at this and Vegeta considered that a win. Malachi had a natural curiosity about things in general and he had barely scratched the surface of ki use. Vegeta realized that the decision he was making today was based almost solely on pleasing Bra. It wasn't something that he could really fault the young man for. In fact, it was admirable.

"As soon as I woke up," Malachi said continuing with his last train of thought, "Bra finally admitted to wanting to get back with me. I don't know what I said to warrant it—all I remember is a crushing headache, but I suppose it all worked out in the end. Soon, I'll be a very busy man."

"Why is that?" Vegeta inquired.

"A lot of preparation goes into touring and I like to be part of the process even though I have guys for that."

"You mentioned that before," Vegeta said thinking back.

"I did, though I didn't think you were paying attention." Malachi paused before saying something further, his eyes finally making its way back to Vegeta, "Not that I don't appreciate your surprised visits, but was there any particular reason you come to visit me aside from the obvious?"

Vegeta paced for a moment wondering how he might broach the topic before deciding on going the direct route. He turned to Malachi again.

"There was something I wanted to know." Keeping a respectable distance from the other, Vegeta decided to sit down as well, cross-legged. He leaned his chin against his open palm hoisted by his arm resting on a knee. With an inquisitive look, he said simply, "Tell me your story—How did you get to this point in life?"

It wasn't Vegeta's habit to ask such questions. He was not so interested in people to have any use for it. To this day, he was not inclined to piece together the detailed account of how the Z-fighters first came together. It was all inconsequential. He knew who the members were and that was enough. He hadn't even bothered learning too much of Bulma's history partially because it had so much to do with Goku. Yet here he was patiently waiting to hear what he suspected would be a long-winded story. He was taking Bulma's advice. It was obvious that he still felt uneasy about Malachi if his dream was any indication. Bra was too deeply involved with him to simply get rid of him—his instinctual response to anything not to his liking—not to mention that he was beginning to get used to Malachi.

He still drew some amusement from scaring off the typical human with a mere glance, but it was nice to know that some could have backbone not because of some perceived physical dominance, but simply because they possessed courage. Vegeta could break the other like a twig yet there was no hint of fear in his posture.

"Hm," Malachi said thoughtfully, "That was out of the clear blue. I'm sure you're aware that there are dozens of accounts of my biography available to the public and not hard to get a hold of."

"I know," Vegeta said dismissively though not telling the other conclusively that he'd read many of them, "But I want to hear it from you."

"Oh, I see," Malachi said leaning back on his arms with a cocky grin, "You want an exclusive. People usually pay for that sort of thing." Vegeta gave him an unamused look. "You have to give me something in return."

"You're making me regret asking anything of you," Vegeta growled.

"I'm taking an advantage of the situation," he said with his grin remaining. That he used the same phrasing as him was not lost on Vegeta. "If I tell you about myself, I want you to do the same for me."

"No deal," Vegeta said immediately.

Bulma had to work much harder for such information, he certainly wouldn't be giving away such information to Malachi no matter how much his daughter happened to like him.

"Oh, come, is it that much of a secret? I don't need all the details. Just…an overview will do. Surely that isn't too much to ask."

He'd just given him a way out though Vegeta kept his expression neutral. "Fine—an overview and nothing more."

Malachi didn't seem to suspect anything; he simply accepted his response at face value.

"Alright then," he said with a brief nod. His grin had disappeared from his face as he began to recall his past:

"I was born at some point by some unknown male and female. Later, I was left on the doorstep of a church close to Christmas—that's December 25th if you didn't know. I assume I was wrapped in blankets of some kind or else I was simply lucky to have been found soon enough before freezing to death. Either way, I was taken in and eventually transferred to a nearby facility that at least had minimal capabilities of taking care of orphans. It was a makeshift orphanage though in that area and with the rate of abandoned children, they needed far more funding than what they had. It was low-income and the government could not afford adequate funding—so I was told many times. I was given a biblical name; a birth certificate was drawn up with an estimated birthdate and unknown parentage."

The biographies that Vegeta had read did not start so early. It mentioned he was an orphan and then immediately went into his music career apparently mentored by someone who'd seen his musical talent perchance.

"I remember the hunger more than anything else. I was perpetually hungry. We were afforded one meal a day and one could hardly call that a full course. There was always crying children and babies and not enough adults around. The building had maybe two rooms and I often felt the four walls closing in on me. So I ran away too many times to count. I was maybe seven years old at the time."

"They told me many times that only the most polite children are adopted. If I learned anything there, it was manners. They were pretty much imprinted upon us. The desperation of trying to get at least some of us adopted was not hidden in the least. I knew, somehow I decided, that this was it, this was the life I had to get used to. No one would adopt me, I was alone. I was never good at making friends and kids kept their distance. More often than not, I was in my own world and liable to do things quite spontaneously. Having resigned myself to my fate, I really could care less how I came off to people."

"Music was my second love—food being the first since there was always so little of it. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder and music was far more available. I hogged the shitty radio gathering dust somewhere in an abandoned closet. It could only receive one station, one R&B station with bad reception. No one wanted it, but it was certainly a treasure to me. I would sing out loud much to everyone's annoyance on or off key. Sometimes when I thought I was far enough away from people like say in a wooded area, I would scream at the top of my lungs—it was stress relieving. The act of emitting sound from my throat was relieving. I spoke so little that many times it was the only time I said a word."

"Skip forward a few years, I was around ten when I discovered the merits of having money. I would do anything for money. I sought out signs for the words 'free' and 'money'. I did all but beg for it. Talent shows paid the best. It's pretty much glossed over just how many of these things I went to, but it was quite a bit. The best ones critiqued my performances and helped me improve, the worst ones laughed me off the stage. I really had no idea what I was doing—I was just going for the gusto. I was not going because I needed attention or approval. I wanted money and I like that it gave me an excuse to sing out loud on a mic. It was a bit like therapy—still is in some ways. I was still a kid who didn't talk much. I wasn't shy, just in my own world all the time. The weird kid in the corner."

"That alone gave me recognition—my 'oddness'. The more I sang, the more I got better at it. Eventually, someone thought it was good enough to actually listen to and approached me after I won second place at the annual local talent show held at the rec center. 'Rec' meaning recreational," Malachi clarified when he noticed the other raise an eyebrow. "I knew from the beginning that this was a business deal and that he intended to make money off of me. I told him I'd do anything he asked me to do as long as he gave me food and adopted me. His name was Quint and he followed through on his side of the bargain. Meanwhile, he worked me to death.

"If I said I wasn't getting any enjoyment out of all that work, I'd be lying. It was something I could put all my focus on and I could sing all I want along with dancing which came natural to me—I'd been doing that anyway now more skill was being added to it.

"Quint was a brusque man in the beginning, but after some years and since we bore no ill will towards each other, we grew to respect each other. We were mutually necessary for the success we found in music. I was on a music label home to many musical legends yet Quint always made sure I had a fair shot and dibs on the songs that best suited me. In fact, Quint wrote and produced many songs specifically for me. He singlehandedly cultivated my career and I learned by example influenced by him and those before me.

"Now that I had access to good food, I learned all there was to know of it. Cooking just gives me peace of mind. There being food on the shelves and in the refrigerator just puts me at ease and the knowledge that I have the ability to turn it into something gourmet.

"The rest," Malachi said sitting up again, "Is history."

Vegeta had watched him closely the whole time and the other had appeared sincere. He wasn't exactly a pampered youth despite his social standing now. He didn't hail from a well-known family, prince hood was not his birthright—instead, he had made a name for himself. It was a story that matched more with Goku than him at first glance. Malachi hadn't been tortured or gone through a struggle as severe as Vegeta's, but he understood loneliness. He knew what it felt like to be isolated from everyone else. He knew about that dark hole one falls into when one thinks about a bleak future. He knew about hard work and used it to propel himself forward. Vegeta couldn't say that he knew the man through and through at this point. Malachi was a shrewd man, calculative even at times yet he participated wholehearted in a strange thing called music; an adolescent pastime had suddenly become his life.

"Do you have any other interests—besides the obvious?" Vegeta inquired.

"Well, I do like long walks on the beach, romance novels, and getting pampered," Malachi said with a short chuckle.

Vegeta grimaced at this which only made Malachi laugh harder.

"Those things aside," Malachi continued, "I did enjoy that spar with Krillin. Complete left field I know, but it was a culmination of all the things you've been teaching me. I love being tested on things especially when I know I'll succeed. Having an audience was only the icing on the cake. I've been meaning to ask you—were you impressed by my performance?"

He was fishing for a compliment, Vegeta knew. He wore a subtle grin. "I didn't expect you to win. It seems you've been doing your own training."

"You gave me the foundation and I took it from there—it's what I do best. Oh—I made something for you," Malachi said climbing to his feet.

Was it food? Vegeta began to wonder.

"And it's not food," Malachi continued, "Just wait right there."

Vegeta watched the other leave. He came back in a moment holding a thin square plastic object. After he returned to his spot, he handed it to Vegeta. The Prince did not take it immediately, but after a moment, he did.

"What is it?" Vegeta asked eyeing the odd piece of plastic.

Malachi laughed at this, "It's a CD, recorded music. I put a variety of music on it that you might like. Something tells me you've never delved too deeply into music, let me introduce you. Do me a favor and listen to it. Let me know which tracks you like the most. Or not," Malachi said as he saw the annoyed look on Vegeta's face, "But I put a lot of thought into it."

Vegeta gave the clear plastic case with the shiny disc inside another look. "Is it really that important that I listen to it?"

"You're asking a musician that?" Malachi said with a grin. "To me, a life without music is no life at all. It's food for the soul. It strengthens you in all the ways that physical training doesn't."

Vegeta noticed as his eyes lit up when he spoke of music. It reminded him of Bulma when she started talking about her work. He felt her joy but he could never understand it. She was a genius in her own right and when it really got down to it, she spoke in a langrage that many couldn't follow and he was part of the many. But music, it seemed like it was 'accessible' at least in the way that Malachi was presenting it to him. Maybe he might understand or maybe not. The first step seemed to be staring him in the face.

At the very least, he'd gotten what he came for. Since Malachi hadn't asked for his story, Vegeta thought it was high time he left before Malachi remembered the deal.

"I'll listen to the contents of this CD," Vegeta finally conceded, "It seems I interrupted you from your 'exercise', don't let me keep you," he said turning.

"That's fine," Malachi said nonchalantly to Vegeta's back. "Don't think I forgot my side of the deal," he said almost stopping the other in his track, "But we've talked enough today—maybe some other time when I have more of it to spare. See you later and don't be afraid of that wonderful device called a cellphone."

No sooner had he finished saying this, his cell started to ring and he became occupied with a phone call.

"Hm? That's what I pay you for, Derek. I've given you carte blanche on that so long as it doesn't make me look bad. You know those pariahs are waiting to pounce on me any chance they get…"

Vegeta didn't hear the end of that conversation as he finally stepped out CD in hand. Truth be told, he didn't have anything planned this day so he flew off eventually making it back home.

This time, the place really was empty. Dr. Briefs and his wife was away on yet another vacation, Bra spent less and less time at home as was expected and she wasn't exactly spelling out where she was going or doing anymore. Bulma was visiting the Capsule Corp satellite locations today, an annual event she'd been planning for a while.

Vegeta sat down at the desktop computer which was unofficially his since he was the main one who used it—everyone else had tablets, cellular devices, and laptops they could choose from. This was enough for Vegeta as he opened the CD player door and placed it in the tray. Might as well get this torture over with sooner rather than later.


AN: Phew! Another chapter done. Hope you're enjoying yourself, my wonderful audience.

WineIXI: Awesome—and I liked writing this one more than the others because of the action which there will be more of in the future (and not too distant either).

WildHeart44: Give Malachi an inch and he takes a mile. You know what, I never thought of it like that, but it was a bit like Super 17 and that other pale white android that Vegeta annihilated (Vegeta was at his finest there. Lol). Yes, 18 is totally a Malachi fan, at least of his music.