"Wake up," a voice ordered; it seemed to echo throughout.
Malachi felt exhausted, but in a way that felt like he was just emerging from a deep slumber. Everything felt wrong. The smell of dampness, the coolness that seemed to come from an outside source, and the rough ground that he felt himself sitting on. His arms were raised. He looked up and saw his arms chained up, but he couldn't move them no matter how hard he tried. In fact, he couldn't move any of his limbs, only his head.
A hazy, gray world appeared before him and a silhouette of a person stood some distance away.
"That's it, my little pet. Let me introduce you to your new home—well, before this world is completely annihilated by yours truly."
Malachi tried to move his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. He knew who it was. The voice was that of Trunks, but he knew his true identity. Though he'd doubted himself a little when the others hadn't agreed with him back at the restaurant, deep down he couldn't let the feeling go. Laputa had a certain presence that Malachi could feel if he looked hard enough and was in close proximity.
"The drugs that I spiked your drink with last night haven't worn off enough. Which is just as well," Laputa said, "This mind that I now possess has given me a vast knowledge of both chemistry and engineering. Poison is the perfect weapon for someone like me, someone who doesn't want to get their hands dirty."
Malachi watched the other step closer and he could make out Trunks' form a bit better. He wore a blue and yellow Capsule Corp jacket over a black shirt and dark cargo pants along with his trademark yellow boots. It was a far less formal attire from last night.
"You will be here for as long as I want you to be and I will see to it that you pay for all the trouble you've caused me. I spent so much time trying to mold you into my perfect vessel and you disregard all my efforts, ignoring and fighting me every chance you could get. How do you think that makes me feel, human? A small, weakling like you unwilling to accept my greatness. I made you a better person. I made you stronger and more capable. I gave you a perspective that was rare and insightful gathered from all my years of living. Yet you remained so adamant about ridding yourself of my presence.
"I have news for you, human. There are other ways in which I can have you. By first stripping you of your mental defenses, of your dignity, you would be under my thumb just like that. I wanted to avoid that as it makes the vessel weaker, but you've forced my hand."
Malachi tried to speak again and this time his mouth moved, but his voice was barely above a whisper and quite strained. "Someone…will come…looking for me. You can't just…kidnap me—" He stopped when Laputa began laughing raucously.
"No one will come looking for you," Laputa said plainly. "You've simply deserted your family, left on a whim just like the unreliable, flighty person you are."
"No one will believe that," Malachi said steadily.
"And you sound so confident when you say that. You poor ignorant fool," Laputa said as he squatted down to Malachi's level. "There is not a soul in this world save for me who knows who you are and what you're capable of. They will form their own opinions and they will come to the worst conclusions. You do realize that, right?"
"But, Bra—
"Bra will think you finally left her for good. Let me ask you something, Malachi. When was the last time you ever opened up to anyone? When have you ever talked to anyone about yourself and not some façade. The people who you say you love doesn't know you any better than anybody else off the street."
"That's not true," Malachi said staring at the ground wracking his mind with whether it was the case or not. Certainly, he had shared things with Bra that he'd not told anyone else, but perhaps that wasn't enough.
"You don't even believe the words that are coming out of your mouth," Laputa said with a laugh. "It's much too late for all that now, Malachi. You will be in my care for the time being. Why don't you take a moment and look down at yourself."
There wasn't much else he was able to do so he did this despite himself. It was then that he finally noticed his state of undress. "What did you do with my clothes," he asked in irritation.
Malachi watched the other take a bag out from inside his jacket. With closer inspection, he knew it was a bag of fresh shelled peanuts and his eyes narrowed at the very sight of them. He made no comment as the other slowly opened the bag for effect. He watched as the other placed his hand deep into the bag. Dusty particles floated around his hand now which only increased his anxiety. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything to stop what he knew the other was likely to do. Was this what it had come down to? Torture? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was probably better to simply prepare himself than waste time trying to convince himself that there was some way out of this.
He could smell it now. The deceptively pleasant smell of peanuts acted more like a warning than a comfort. It was forever associated with pain and suffering. Though he always put on a brave face whenever he was in the presence of such foods, even so far as to give off an air of indifference, in reality, he was quite terrified. Only before, he had more control of the situation. Now, he had no control and he was at the mercy of whatever Laputa felt like doing. He listened to the sound of hard shelled peanuts pushing against each other. Then the sound of shells cracking. He opened his eyes now and watched as a fisted hand easily demolished the peanut's protective covering. Laputa ate one himself teasingly. The moment Laputa reached out his arm to force what was left in his hand into his mouth, he turned his head away defiantly.
"Of course, you'd want to make things a little difficult for me," he sneered.
He grabbed his neck almost enough to cause him trouble in breathing and stopped him from moving. Without hesitation, peanuts were shoved into his mouth. Though he tried to spit them back out, Laputa held his hand over his mouth. Malachi choked on it before he was able to spit it out—Laputa had moved his hand out of the way. His tongue was already swelling up and his nose already starting to run. Then all of a sudden, he could breathe again for a moment, but the sensation was short lived as he felt his throat tightening. He vaguely noticed the sound of retreating footsteps right before the vomiting began as it always did. There was no dignified way of doing this as he still couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. Clearly, Laputa must have given him some sort of neurotoxin, something that did not allow him to make himself move, but he could still breathe and regurgitate for that matter.
Assuming this was the day after he'd "fallen asleep" after the outing with Vegeta, Trunks, and Terri, that was all the food he'd had after a couple of days with minimal eating. Now all of that ended up outside of his body in the most undesirable of ways. Most of it was now in his lap so that he could continue to smell its repugnancy for a long time to come and the smell wasn't helping his already weak stomach. In short, it was utterly disgusting and humiliating.
Laputa was quite gone by the time Malachi had the presence of mind to look for him. Just like that, he was there by himself. He wasn't tired in the least and his eyes kept looking around the dimly lit area, but there was nothing to see. The entire area was emptied aside from some metal stairs that led up and a view of the outside from a doorway that seemed to lack doors. It reminded Malachi of an abandoned factory. When he looked up again to see his chained arms, he noticed it was attached to a thick supporting column that his body now leaned against. He could only imagine the loss of circulation in his arms being in such a position for so long. The same fate awaited the rest of him as well if he stayed in any position for too long.
He turned his head to the left so that he could gaze out at the only color he could find, the only evidence of life. After about an hour, his nose became used to the sickening smell and ignored its presence altogether, but he was idle and he hated being so idle. Laputa must have known this. Maybe this was part of it. He'd practically spelled out his intentions. All Malachi had to do was to make sure he remained mentally strong. Easier "thought" than done. Already he wasn't feeling his normal self. If what Laputa said was true, then no one would be looking for him.
But he could be wrong too. It was dangerous to think too negatively. It was a slippery slope from there. Only, he knew his own habits. He tended to be pessimistic. He always thought the worst before anything else.
"Stay positive," Malachi said aloud.
He was alone. What if no one came for him? What if Laputa no longer cared to have him as a vessel and killed him outright? How long would he be here? What if Laputa got his way? Or worst of all, what else did he have in store for him? Surely, this wasn't it.
"Stay positive," Malachi said once again in irritated tones.
He'd put his head down when his neck grew tired from looking up. Now he was looking outside again and he noticed the light was dimming. How long had he been there already? It was then right after he asked this to himself that he felt the telltale signs of a migraine. He groaned in self-pity.
"Of course," he said to himself, "Of course now."
His neck being tired, he was looking down again at the drying mess on his lap. It took him a moment to realize the lack of bandages on him. How had he missed it before? His wounds were quite exposed and if he could feel at the moment, he would be in even more pain. Still, it wasn't exactly sanitary. Seemed death was still on the table if he was unlucky enough to catch an infection.
When he looked up again to look outside, it was night time. Hours must have passed. He must have either fallen asleep or completely zoned out. He sighed to himself as he closed his eyes. It was the only thing he could do. He felt utterly mute and helpless which was embarrassing enough, but it was accompanied with a relentless pain in his head that he could do nothing for. Involuntarily, his eyes had begun to water. He couldn't even make himself comfortable, he was stuck sitting up in the same position. If only he could fall asleep and wake up in a place he considered his home, warm and inviting.
It was too early for those sorts of thoughts. It was only the first day and who knew how many days he would be there?
Malachi was staring numbly up at the faraway ceiling when he heard the sound of footsteps coming towards him. It was Laputa still with Trunks' visage. He looked the picture of health and none the worse for wear and it immediately soured his mood, but strangely he was relieved to see him. Sitting alone for so long was starting to eat at his sanity and he supposed he didn't have much of it to spare. He needed to speak to someone even if that person was his worst enemy and wished him ill. Along with that, he was starving with no hope of food in the future. He hoped Laputa hadn't bought more peanuts.
"Good afternoon, Malachi," Laputa said smoothly.
He was very much in control and Malachi was no match for him—it pained him to admit it to himself. If he was ever going to get out of this mess, he would need to depend on someone else and he hated depending on someone else for something as important as his life.
"I see you're still holding on there. But I can see that you're already breaking. Don't blame yourself too harshly. It's difficult for a zebra to change its stripes. And I know you like the back of my hand. I could tell you it's futile to resist, but you'll do it all the same and fail all the same eventually."
"Someone will come for me," Malachi said in a scratchy, unused voice. He had to clear it to speak with decent clarity. "Even if it isn't them, others will notice. All the people I work with at the studio, my agent, somebody..."
Laputa only grinned at him and looked around himself mockingly. "And yet no one's here. How would they find you? You don't have your cellphone. You're completely naked and you're completely alone. But that shouldn't be an unfamiliar feeling. Doesn't it give you a sense of nostalgia?"
Laputa pulled out a bottle of water from the inside of jacket and Malachi's eyes lit up greedily. It could be laced with poison, but his dry mouth could care less and his hunger pangs were back with a vengeance. Laputa set what looked like a cold bottle of water on the ground well within his eyesight.
"I'll be back in a little while," Laputa said as he turned.
"Bastard!" Malachi bit out, "I hope you get what's coming to you."
"Your threats are weak and meaningless. I would save my breath for all that."
Malachi watched the other walk out. He turned a corner and disappeared and he stared at that corner, then he looked to the outside again—anything that wasn't the blasted bottle. Eventually, he gave in when he convinced himself that avoiding it was silly and wouldn't prove a thing. His mouth salivated and he did once again try to move, but nothing happened. Once he started looking that's all he could do and he let his mind do the rest of the work as he imagined drinking it over and over and over.
Much, much later Laputa returned and Malachi didn't even bother looking up at him. He heard as the bottle was picked up and then as the top was being opened. He was salivating again despite not trusting the other's intentions—he was more likely to pour it all out on the floor than to pour some into his mouth. It was also then that Malachi reflected on just how low he had fallen if the bright point of his day was hoping Laputa would actually give him some water. Despite himself, he looked to see what the other was doing just in time to see him pour out a third of the bottle before spitting a large wad into.
"Still want it?" Laputa teased.
"Do what you will, asshole."
Laputa laughed at this. "I'll make sure that I do."
He knew he couldn't move yet he tried again as he became heated with anger that could not be expressed. It was useless to get riled up yet he did so anyway. Laputa approached him and pushed his head back against the metal column. With the same hand, he pulled his upper mouth open. Malachi bit down on his fingers and was rewarded with a crisp slap across his face, one that would leave a mark. Laputa tried again with more strength and poured the water directly into his mouth without pause. It was difficult to swallow, but he didn't want to in the first place. In the end, the water ended up all over him as he choked on the sheer amount that was forced into his mouth.
"See? That wasn't so bad," Laputa said to Malachi who was currently gasping for breath.
"I don't get it," Malachi said between breaths.
"That doesn't surprise me," Laputa said not letting the other finish.
"Why are you wasting your time doing all this when you already have a perfectly fine vessel who's better than me in almost every way?"
"Desperation doesn't suit you," Laputa replied, "You'd go so far as to compliment someone you obviously don't like."
"I don't dislike him," Malachi said singularly.
"Funny, I doubt he'd say the same about you."
"Well, that's his problem. The question remains. You dodging it tells me all that I need."
"Look at you, always thinking you're more clever than the next person. You don't know anything."
In that moment, Malachi realized something. Knowing that Trunks would make a far better vessel for Laputa's purposes and that there was some reason Laputa wasn't taking advantage of this, allowed him to connect the dots.
"Why don't you just spit out? Tell me what you think you know."
"Oh? Curious, are you?"
"You are in no position to be smug. I could make your life so much more worse—it wouldn't be wise to piss me off."
He wasn't exactly planning to not say what was on his mind and if he had been, he'd certainly think better of it. Laputa was his only link to civilization at this point; the only one he could possibly talk to besides himself.
"What if he breaks free of your control?"
"He won't. And there is nothing that anyone can do to change that."
"In other words, it would be up to him. But I know it couldn't be permanent. You're working under time constraints. You are just as desperate as I am."
Laputa laughed at this and he did so for almost an entire minute fitfully. "I can take over anyone that I want. This planet is full of weaklings ripe for the picking. The very thought that anyone would think I'm desperate is ridiculous."
"Then why don't you find someone else? If there's truly such a wide selection, why do all this?"
"Because," Laputa began slowly as he squatted down to his level, "I have settled on you. You are my perfect host. Easily taken over and easily strengthened. You have something that no one else has. Intelligent, wily—something that compliments my own characteristics."
Malachi grinned and shook his head at the other. "I'm nothing special. You're just telling me things I want to hear. You forget, I know you as well. The only reason you're doing this is because you've already gone through that binding process with me. You've simply grown impatient and I would be your best option. Otherwise you'll have to go through days of the binding process once again. A Saiyan would take far longer so you won't bother with that. I'm going to bide my time until Trunks sees through your trick, whatever you've done to him."
"You suddenly have a lot of faith in a man who could care less about you," Laputa noted.
"I got pissed at him one time because he saw me as foolish, but he was right and I didn't want to admit it. I don't hate him. I don't really dislike him. I just never got around to apologizing. A guy like that who was raised by both a genius scientist and a brilliant combat strategist, who is now the CEO of the biggest corporation on this planet, will see through your shenanigans one way or another. So I will bide my time."
"You assume you have time to spare," Laputa said standing up again.
"What do you mean?" Malachi asked.
"I mean, you are dying. Every moment you spend apart from me brings you closer to your untimely death. Those headaches you keep getting is the telltale sign. Some people don't even get that. Of the few who have successfully separated from me after the binding, most simply drop dead. Some live a bit longer only to suffer in pain. You are part of the latter."
"You're lying. I was having those headaches even before we were separated. In fact, it was why Bulma decided to give me the treatment sooner rather than later."
"Sharp as always, I see. Have you considered Jensen being the cause?"
"He has nothing to do with this."
"He has everything to do with this. There is a ritual that comes with birth for my kind that neither one of you would know—a passing of knowledge from one's parents. What Jensen absorbed was random and unorthodox. A human mind could not handle such an event and Jensen was not fully capable of doing it properly, but he was not human enough to not be compelled towards such an act. What you felt then was different; a side effect of an improper birthing ritual that just so happened to express itself in a headache. What you feel now is something else. I'm sure you've noticed its increasing frequency. Make no mistake—you are dying and you are living on borrowed time."
"And binding with you again would change all that," Malachi said matter-of-factly.
"Exactly."
"How stupid do you think I am? If that was really the case, why not just tell me that in the first place. For all I know, this is all part of your plan to make me think I need to accept you."
"Perhaps," Laputa said casually, "Perhaps not. Maybe I thought such reasons wouldn't faze a person like you who throws himself into life-threatening situations simply to satisfy a whim. Surely, you'd choose death over being taken by me."
"I die either way, don't I?" Malachi asked quietly.
Laputa smiled at him. "It seems like you already know the answer to that."
"You've had other hosts from other planets and yet you come to this one without a host. I can only imagine that they were killed or otherwise died while under your influence."
"After a while, the host dies," Laputa said with a sigh, "But death isn't nearly as eminent as it would be if you continue like you are."
"I see," Malachi said as he finally looked to the ground. "Then I've made my choice already. Do what you want with me, but I won't make it easy for you."
"So many people have said that to me and they all wound up going back on their word. I know what makes you tick. I know what would make you emotional. I know how to make you vulnerable." He crushed the plastic bottle that was still in his hand and tossed it aside well out of Malachi's reach. "Which reminds me. You need another dose."
Malachi clenched his teeth at the sound of this. He still couldn't move yet Laputa felt the need to "medicate" him again. Eventually, Laputa smashed Malachi's head against the metal wall behind him so that he could not resist. He grunted as he felt the needle slide into his neck. This time, exhaustion took him quickly and he fell deeply asleep.
Days began to blur together. Malachi could no longer tell how long he'd been there. He'd already defecated on himself twice as it became impossible to hold things in for such a long time. He'd seen Laputa twice more and he'd been given water though he wasn't nearly as wasteful as last time—he wanted him to remain hydrated. Because there was a chance that he could get out of this, he acquiesced and allowed the other to give him water without fuss though Laputa was none too gentle about it.
Malachi wanted food—he knew he wouldn't be seeing this anytime soon. That particular fact and the constant feeling of hunger was torture enough and Malachi knew the other must have known this. Each time Laputa came, he injected the immobilizing drug and each time it would knock him out for a while, something he wasn't opposed to.
For the majority of the time, he was by himself staring at nothing. After a day or so, he became used to his surroundings and could derive no more stimulation from it. In the end, he simply began talking to himself—not just a little, but in full-fledged conversations. There were appointments he was sure he'd missed by now and his manager who must have by now figured out that he was missing, but he was also sure that they were keeping such information under wraps. No need to panic the masses. There was no way they would find him, however. They had no leads.
Did anyone really miss him or had they moved on with their lives already? He might be a popular icon in the eyes of the public, but there had been others before him, others even now, and others that would dominate the future spotlight. Each of them would eventually fade away. It was the nature of the business. Though there was some longevity in his status unlike most, he could exit the world stage at any time and no one would really care aside from speculation.
There was always those pounding headaches to keep him company as well and more and more he kept returning to what Laputa had said. Was he really dying? His gut told him that there was some truth to it. As if he had some sixth sense about such things, he'd felt inexplicably closer to death than he ever had before and he'd been acting more recklessly because of it. He couldn't shake that feeling and now he supposed he knew why.
He looked up when he heard Laputa's now familiar footsteps. He would see Trunks and wonder how much longer it would take for him to seize control again—apparently, it wouldn't be today.
"Poor, poor Bra," Laputa said in mock sympathy, "She feels so abandoned and betrayed."
"What are you talking about?" Malachi asked knowing the other was baiting him into such a question. He no longer cared.
"Instead of keeping your promise, you decided to run away," Laputa said with a devious grin.
Malachi's eyes widened at this. In the wake of everything that happened, he'd forgotten her ultimatum. One moment he was still deciding just what place he should buy the ring, the next he was waking up in this hellhole where survival had been at the forefront. The whole time he'd not spared this issue a thought and he'd had time to think of many things. It was a promise he assumed he would have no problem keeping so it was the least of his worries and he spent the least amount of time thinking about it. But now...
"Have I...have I missed it? How long have I—"
"Long enough. She tells me about her shitty taste in men—"
"She does," Malachi said, "The absolute worst. She's fiercely attracted to surface beauty and little else. She never looks for anything else and wounds up with the same shitty guys."
"Do you honestly think so low of yourself? Has your time here begun to change things?"
"No," Malachi shaking his head. "I'm at least a little less shitty than all the other guys. What did she say to you?"
Laputa took his time answering which frustrated Malachi, but he knew the other did this purposefully. "She was clearly in tears," he began. Malachi looked down after he said this picturing a distraught Bra in his mind. "She kept giving you chances and that you disappointed her at every turn. She wondered how she let things continue for so long. I asked her if she would ever consider taking him back if he ever returned and she told me she'd be a fool to do it. She was tired of your shenanigans and told me she'd be better off alone."
"She'll understand," Malachi said solemnly, "Once I tell her what happened. None of this matters."
"And how long do you think she can sit and stew about your abandonment before It's too late to change things? How much damage is too much? When will she finally have enough of you?"
Malachi had become silent as he was suddenly at a loss of words. She was crying over him. He never wanted to be responsible for that. After the impossible happened, after he was finally separated from Laputa he had told himself that things would eventually get better. He didn't exactly expect to be forgiven so quickly after all that had happened, but she had. She had been patient and understanding, accepting Jensen as if he was her own after he fully explained the circumstances of his birth. Malachi shared things with her that he had not told anyone else including how he had come to have that appearance. All he could do in response was disappoint her. Even if this time there was a valid explanation, he felt as if he'd managed to screw things up again. Explanation aside, it was clear that Laputa had it out for him. Were he a better person, Laputa likely would not have decided on him as a host in the first place. Had he not decided on dating her in the first place, none of this would have occurred. She might have been happier.
"It must be a little frustrating knowing that she would confide in her brother who couldn't be bothered with keeping up with her or anyone else in the family. She forgives him just like that. But if you did the same, she assumes you've abandoned them for good with not even a thought spared to you actually being in trouble."
"That's different," Malachi said with a sigh.
"How so? Do you not see the double standards?"
"You're—He's her brother. They grew up together. They spent most of their lives knowing each other and living together. Knowing someone for so long like that, you get to understand them far better than anyone else. I can only imagine. It'd be different," he said looking to the ground once again, "Double standards, as you say, is understandable."
"Insightful, for one who is so rash. But I know what makes you tick," Laputa reminded him. "You might be able to brave physical pain, but what about the emotional ones? You have a family now—people who I can leverage you with. Threaten to kill them if I like. The truth is, there is only one thing you're truly scared of and that is being alone. Your only connection to that family is through Bra and once she breaks ties with you, you'll be back where you started."
"You're wrong," Malachi said looking up at the other with a defiant expression. "I don't care anything about—"
"I will be bringing your mother here soon."
"I don't have a mother," Malachi said exasperatedly.
"Yes, you do and she happens to be a brilliant scientist—you know her better as Bulma."
"Leave her out of this."
"Isn't that how you think of her? She need only tell you to do something and you would do it without hesitation. You want her approval. You want her to accept you as her son. Far be it that you of all people should harbor such pathetic thoughts. You have no need for parents—that's what you tell yourself when you begin to worry each time you're not on good terms with Bra. You know that your life would be utterly meaningless and empty without her influence. I will bring her here so that she can see just how pathetic you have become."
"Please," Malachi said hoarsely, "Leave her out of this. I'll..."
"You'll what?" Laputa said as the other paused for too long.
"Just don't. Please, don't. She doesn't deserve any of this."
Laputa seemed to ignore him as he continued. "I'll bring her here not just so she can see you, but to do to her what I've done to you."
Malachi's teeth gritted at this.
"One by one I shall tear down and destroy until you finally cave. And from the looks of it—I don't have far to go."
"You take Bulma and Vegeta will see to it that you die slow and painfully. He loves her deeply."
Laputa grinned at him. "Don't you worry about Vegeta. It is better that I get rid of him swiftly instead of taking my sweet time—those annoying Saiyans have a knack for growing stronger while under duress so I won't risk that. With this new body of mine, I think killing him will be easy. He doesn't suspect me at all. He's made himself vulnerable and easily exploitable by the likes of me. I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here, Malachi. The thing that makes even powerful Saiyans utterly weak."
"Spoken like someone who's never experienced anything aside from hate and destruction."
Laputa laughed at this. "You presume to lecture someone who's experienced far more than you could ever in your entire lifetime."
"You've written your own failure anyways. I'm talking to a dead man."
"Vegeta will die," Laputa said confidently, "Because I will make it impossible for him to win."
With this, Laputa left him alone once again. Laputa's confidence left Malachi wondering what his plan was. Vegeta was invincible, there was nothing to worry about. But as time rolled by, his own thoughts began to betray him.
"Don't fall for his tricks," Malachi said out loud. No one was there to hear so he could care less. "I'm…counting on you."
Malachi wasn't exactly sure when Bulma got there but he discovered her soon after he awoke again—he had no idea when he'd fallen asleep—some feet away from him on the gray wall to his left left. There wasn't a lot of light, but his eyes had long since adjusted to the dark. He could still make her out. Her legs and arms were tied with ropes but she was not secured to the wall. Malachi could only assume that Laputa had given her the same drugs as he since her eyes were closed. He was more than certain that Bulma would be making far more of scene right about now if she knew her own condition.
The sight of her made him notice his own poor condition. He smelled like last week's garbage and he was utterly filthy and nasty looking. Being without clothes was made far worse with the presence of another. He was certain that by now after not receiving any solid nourishment and surviving purely because of hydration, he'd lost some weight. He hadn't felt this starved in a very long time—it was a feeling he'd never wanted to experience again. He felt sick and lethargic. As far as conversations he'd had with himself in the past—it was too tiring now to think of anything to say.
"Bulma!" Malachi tried to say loudly, but his voice came out pathetic and hoarse. No amount of clearing his throat would make that sound any better. "Bulma!" He repeated despite himself.
But she wouldn't wake; she was too far gone at the moment. Good, Malachi thought to himself. Waking to a place like this would be tantamount to a nightmare. He never wanted to see her like this: helpless and vulnerable. She was out of place here; pristine and seemingly composed. He found himself continuously looking towards her as she was the only alteration to the place in a long time that was not Laputa mocking him. After a while, Malachi decided that she likely wouldn't wake for quite some time.
What would her scanner say now about his condition? His throbbing migraine became a constant feature of his life and there had been no alleviation pain-wise since he'd gotten here. He couldn't move as well to give himself the pretense of making himself comfortable. Instead, he had no choice but to bear it as it became harder and harder to think coherently. He'd cried out before when it had increased twofold for what felt like hours, but it was a fruitless venture. Time was the only healer.
As of now, with nothing to do, he was nodding off once again. He had no strength left to convince his body to stay awake longer. Then he received some stimulus—Vegeta's now noticeable ki signature. He'd never felt it so prominently. He was most certainly fighting against Laputa. That was all the details he was allowed, but he wondered about the circumstances. When had Vegeta seen through Laputa's disguise? Had Laputa been able to pull off whatever underhanded shenanigans needed to ensure Vegeta's demise? Was Vegeta not fighting at his peak because Laputa had taken his son's body? Had Laputa simply abandoned using Trunks altogether and used someone entirely different—as farfetched as that sounded? Malachi knew nothing and his mind which had been so dull and spent before was desperately trying to paint a succinct picture as to what was happening now.
Malachi concentrated as hard as he could on Vegeta, but all his senses could tell him was that Vegeta was actively fighting and Laputa, as usual, was impossible to sense. Though his skill with ki sense had increased, he was no expert. He couldn't discern the minute details like mood and condition and even now when he really wanted to know, that remained an impossible endeavor.
Then suddenly, Vegeta's ki signature disappeared and Malachi's eyes widened at the implications.
"Impossible," Malachi said to himself. "I must have missed something."
He waited and waited for any changes, but nothing else occurred. If he could, he'd be holding his breath in anticipation. He couldn't be sure the outcome of the fight. If Laputa returned….Malachi didn't want to think about it. If he didn't come, then Vegeta was victorious and they would still be lost. However, now that Bulma was here, there was a far better chance that Vegeta would find them. Or better yet, the drugs would wear off and they could get out themselves. He was sure he could muster up enough energy to break away the cuffs and untie Bulma, but he was getting ahead of himself.
Then another thought came to him, one that Malachi hoped Laputa would never consider. If he defeated Vegeta, he could take him over in the same way he'd done Malachi and there would be no one to stop him. Perhaps it was too risky a venture especially if he had to still continue to dose them with the drug to keep him and Bulma captured. One person could only do so much. His thoughts began to spiral this way and that before he was interrupted with the sound of footsteps. He looked up immediately to see who it was as soon as the person turned the corner. In his guts though, he knew it was Laputa—his stride was identical.
"He's dead," Laputa said smugly to the watching Malachi. "I think I've singlehandedly finished off the Saiyan race—it's been a long time coming, you know, but then they've always been a tenacious bunch."
"You're lying," Malachi said defiantly in lower tones.
"What was that? I can barely hear you over the sounds of your denial," he said with a grin.
"I said you're lying!" Malachi cried out with as much strength as he could muster. "Vegeta could never be defeated by the likes of you."
"Oh, I'm sorry—Did I break your spirits? Was he your very last hope?" Laputa mocked.
"You son of a bitch—what the hell did you do?!"
"Put him down like the monkey he is."
"I'm going to kill you," Malachi said darkly, "You won't get away with this, damn it!" He was already out of breath. "You can't just…you can't just go around destroying everything. Who the hell do you think you are?"
"It's as if we didn't spend a year together, my pet. You know why. Destruction is the inevitable end to all things living and it is the only thing that gives my life meaning."
"And what about everyone else? Have you stopped and placed yourself in anyone else's shoes other than your own? Have you thought about how your destruction is the thing that takes away meaning from one's life? How can your way be right, if it's an unsustainable pursuit and it benefits no one but yourself? What kind of pathetic creature can derive anything but depravity from that?
"My, aren't we full of words today."
Malachi glared at the other. "You should just kill me now, Laputa. I will never bow to you. I will not make it any easier for you—and Bulma would be the same. There's nothing I can do for her once you start torturing her, but the thought that you would be no closer to your ultimate goal after all that work—that is how I will fight back; with every bone in my body and with every fiber of my being!"
Laputa was looking at him differently now as if he'd just realized something. Such a reaction was not expected, but Malachi quickly deduced that something else was going on as Laputa stepped away from him. As much anger as he was feeling right then, he did not think he had sufficient strength to adequately illustrate its true depth and definitely not enough to frighten the likes of Laputa. The expression on Laputa's face became confused. His fists clenched and it was as if he was in pain. It took a moment for Malachi to figure out what was happening.
"Get out of my body, you bastard!" Trunks yelled out.
In an instant, the ground was shaking beneath him violently as Trunks' ki surrounded him and burst outward in an incredible show of strength in such a short time span. Malachi had never seen the likes. His cries reverberated throughout the hollowed out factory and debris began to fall from the ceiling. In all the spectacle, it was difficult to see what had become of Laputa, but Malachi was fairly certain that the creature had left or was on the verge of doing so. Out the corner of his eye, he saw something translucent flit over the ground. When his head turned, he saw a bit more of its amorphous form, but it soon disappeared into the darkness. There was nothing he could do about it, but it bothered him that once again the elusive creature had gotten away. Something told him, however, in his heart of hearts that this would be the last time—he would be sure of it and he would be ready.
But now, however, he had another issue to deal with. The entire building was in danger of caving in on itself as Trunks had not seen fit to cease his powering up.
"Trunks, listen to me, your mom is here too! You're gonna' kill her if you keep this up!"
That got him as if he'd just snapped his finger and drawn someone out of hypnosis. The light show ended as Trunks seemed to gather himself. He seemed a bit out of breath as the smoke slowly subsided. All the while pieces of the ceiling continued to fall.
"Over there," Malachi said nodding his head in Bulma's direction before the other could ask—he still seemed a bit disoriented, but not enough to stop him from helping his unconscious mother.
Trunks had the ropes off quickly and he was checking her vitals. "She's fine," he said almost to himself. "Just a little shaken—she might have been dosed with something."
"She was," Malachi said so that there could be no doubt, "And I was as well. Laputa's way of keeping his prisoners compliant."
Trunks lifted Bulma into his arms as gently as he could and stood up. It was then that Trunks turned to look at him. Malachi had forgotten to be embarrassed until that moment. Trunks kept his face neutral, but Malachi could only imagine the thoughts going through his head. Two small ki blasts was all it took to destroy the chains that held his arms—they fell to his side limply. He was sure he'd lost circulation in them. For good measure, he tried to move again and he found that he could though not with as much coordination as he would have thought. It seemed the drugs wore off quickly if it wasn't administered in a timely manner.
"Here," Trunks said as he readjusted his hold on Bulma, deftly taking out a capsule and throwing it to a spot within armlength of Malachi with a poof. "I always have extra clothes on me, but they might be a bit big on you."
"Thanks," Malachi managed to say.
Malachi could care less—anything that he could throw on would do even a burlap bag if only to escape his growing chagrin. Malachi waited for the other to step outside through the doorway he'd been looking through to the outside world since he'd gotten there. But putting on clothes turned out to be quite the task. It was only his own stubbornness that stopped him from asking for help. His limbs wouldn't obey him like they should and he was forever starting over. In the end, his shirt was on backwards, but the pants, at least, was right. That would have to do for now as he was bone-tired. It was only the adrenaline and elations of finally being free that allowed him to stay on his feet. He made his way slowly outside where Trunks was waiting for him.
Obviously, Trunks also had a car in one of the many capsules he seemed to have on hand. It wasn't altogether surprising since he was the CEO of Capsule Corporation—he probably had dibs on all the latest technology even before it came out. It was nothing to have a few of them on his person at all times. Perhaps Laputa had seen the merits of this as well.
He'd already placed Bulma into the passenger seat by the time he stepped outside. It was in the dead of the night and they were in a deserted area. Looking around, his mood darkened a bit. No one would have found him in such a place, not in a long time and certainly not before Laputa had had his way with him.
"I would fly, but she's in no condition to be moved like that," Trunks said to him.
Malachi could only nod numbly.
"And you look like death," Trunks said further.
"I know," Malachi said barely managing to muster up a grin. "Let's just go already." The doors were probably unlocked so Malachi proceeded to the backseat, but when he tried to open the door he could barely wrap his hands around the handle to open it. "Really?" Malachi admonished himself under his breath. When he attempted to pull, he found his strength far too compromised to pull out the handle far enough. That was when his hand was moved aside and another did the deed for him.
"I had it," Malachi said looking over at Trunks, but with unmistakable redness on his cheeks.
"You're welcome," Trunks said in spite of.
He also closed the door behind him after Malachi managed to get into the backseat. Trunks climbed in as well and smoothly turned on the car. He didn't start moving immediately. All was silent for a while as Malachi was sure the other had something to say.
"Malachi," Trunks said with a sigh, "What the hell is going on?"
"That might be a long story," Malachi answered. "Listen, Laputa said that he…defeated your father."
"He's bluffing," Trunks said confidently.
"How are you so sure?" Malachi asked mystified.
"Because I can still sense him. He's alive and well. Now are you going to tell me what's going on? What happened here?"
"Alright, but only if you start driving."
Malachi watched the other tap a few buttons on the dashboard display. He started the GPS and then the vehicle started moving.
"Feel better now? We're moving, but it will take a while to get home—we're quite far away. More than enough time to explain things."
Malachi paused a moment as he considered where he should start and then he began. "I'm going off assumptions here, that Laputa must have possessed you either on the day of or before you, Terri, your father, and I went out to that restaurant for dinner."
"I have no recollection of that," Trunks said in confused tones.
"Maybe it's better you didn't," Malachi said trying to make himself a little more comfortable.
The seats were plush and warm, but even this wasn't enough to put Malachi at ease. From there, he began recounting the events of what he knew had happened since the restaurant along with his own supposition—he didn't want to fill the other in on the full details of what had happened at the abandoned factory, but only things that he believe the other would be interested in.
"I see—so everyone thinks you're missing, but no one suspected me during that time." Trunks rolled down the windows at this point. "It's cool outside, better to feel the breeze than the AC."
Or the smell is getting too strong, Malachi thought bitterly to himself.
"Did I really make a complete fool of myself at the restaurant?"
"It wasn't so bad," Malachi said with a yawn. "Everyone enjoyed it."
"Even Dad?"
"Even him in his own extremely subtle way."
"Hard to see when that guy is in a good mood or not."
"So you don't remember any of that happening, huh? What do you remember? Was it just that you fell asleep one day and woke up here?"
"It wasn't quite like that," Trunks said slowly.
When the other didn't expound right away, Malachi took off his seat belt and carefully laid down across the entire backseat—he simply could not sit up any longer. His bottom was quite tired of sitting. Though he wanted to do this gracefully, he wound up flopping down on the seat much to Trunks's dismay.
"Hey, are you alright?" Trunks asked quickly.
"Fine," Malachi grumbled. "Just fine."
"I don't know what Laputa did to you, but no one deserves that kind of treatment."
"I'm—"
"You're not fine," Trunks cut over the other. "To be honest, you're the reason we're driving instead of flying."
"So I'm slowing you down?" Malachi asked with a huff.
"Please, Malachi, not now. I don't want to risk moving you around too much. So we're going to play it safe and I don't mind doing that."
"I find that hard to believe," Malachi said.
It took Malachi a moment to situate himself on the seat, but soon his head was lying against the plush seating. This was practically heaven.
"I know we've had our differences, but you can't honestly think that I'm the kind of person who would purposefully put you in harm's way. Besides," Trunks said glancing back at him, "You're the guy that my sister intends the marry—I'd like to be on good terms."
Malachi became quiet after this imagining the shitstorm he was going to face once he got home. Could their relationship even be salvaged? He'd let her down yet again. "I wouldn't hold your breath," he said after a moment."
"Something happened again?" Trunks said knowingly.
"You could say that."
"Well, I'm in no position to judge. I've continually ruined things over and over again. You know you're the first guy that Bra has ever told me about? She had nothing but good things to say about you and also that you were an idiot despite everything else."
"Sounds accurate."
"I think whatever it is that you think you've done so wrong, you can make it up to her."
"Damn it, stop being so positive. What happened to the annoyed pissed off version of you?"
"Maybe you like to hold grudges—I do not. It's toxic and a waste of time. My father always held a grudge against Goku to some small degree for the entire time I knew them and I always thought it was silly. You won that fight and I miscalculated just how serious you were about fighting. I knew—after I cooled off, of course—why my father was willing to put up with you. He'd been so lackluster lately and every time I tried to get him to do something, he'd shut me down every time. And I was also concerned about Bra because I thought he was sheltering her a bit too much. And then you came into the picture and changed all that. When I saw him last, he was more like himself, more like the person I once knew."
"I had no idea…" Malachi said slowly.
"You wouldn't, but thank you all the same."
"Maybe we should spar someday."
"Maybe, if I ever feel like it, which will likely not be anytime soon."
They were silent for a while and all that could be heard was the blowing of wind through the windows.
"So what happened to you, Trunks?" Malachi asked.
"What do you mean?"
"When you said it wasn't quite like falling asleep one minute and waking the next. What was it like being trapped like that in your own body?"
"It was strange. It was as if I was awake, but I wasn't and it took me a long time to realize that I wasn't. It's a long story."
"Well, we do have a long way ahead of us," Malachi reminded the other. "Let me hear it."
"You'll probably fall asleep before the end," Trunks said knowingly with amusement.
"I won't," Malachi said stubbornly.
"That's not a bad thing," Trunks said exasperatedly, "And it's not a contest—no one's going to be impressed if you manage not to. Resting would be actually beneficial to you, right now."
"Alright, got you. Now are you going to start or leave me in the dark?"
"I'll start," Trunks said.
Malachi was barely able to keep his eyes open and as soon as Trunks began to speak he felt himself falling into a deep slumber and there was no way to stop it much to his annoyance.
AN: Let the good times roll.
WildHeart44: Yeah, looks like Jensen was right about something, at least. Crap-baskets is right. Is Vegeta ready to beat the crap out of his firstborn? Stay tuned.
Wine: Ironically, this a chapter posted on the last day of the week.