Trigger Warning: This chapter's content includes notes of sexual assault. Please read cautiously.
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"If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed."
– Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
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CHAPTER 29:
The Enemy Within
"Hello again… Trunks Briefs."
Dr. Vidalia's greeting lingered in the air like a dissonant echo.
Trunks stood frozen at the threshold of the Chapel's door, suddenly aware of every inch of tight space that stood between him and the doctor.
For some reason, the air felt unnaturally still, as though all the warmth around the two of them had cooled upon the doctor's reappearance.
Looking at Dr. Vidalia standing so close, Trunks could feel a strange sense of vertigo churn within his gut. Somehow, he felt as if he were getting caught in a tightening web, of threads that were trapping him against something formidable.
He didn't know why he felt this way. It was never a thought before, but suddenly, his instincts screamed that something was wrong. Without any evidence to support his feeling, however, he hesitated among his next actions.
His eyes darted over Dr. Vidalia's frame, taking in the doctor's gaunt features, such as the tautness of his pale skin, and the eerie stiffness in his long limbs.
Realizing he had been at a loss for words, Trunks abashedly muttered, more out of reflex than practiced courtesy, "Uh... hi."
His voice felt small against the heavy silence and the intensity of Dr. Vidalia's stare. The doctor's gaze seemed hollow, and his grinning lips stretched too tightly, as if he were a puppet being pulled by invisible strings.
And then it struck Trunks, what had put him on edge - Dr. Vidalia's deep-set eyes, shielded behind his blue-tinted goggles, gleamed with an unnatural light, and spoke to something darker. Trunks may have been seeing things, but he felt that the doctor's eyes betrayed the same calculating hunger that Trunks had seen within the green-haired boy.
Dr. Vidalia's pupils were contracted, almost like cross-hair target indicators. They were intensely locked onto Trunks, with a focus that flickered between Trunks' eyes and mouth.
"You're a marvel, Trunks Briefs," Dr. Vidalia said with cracked, stretched lips. His voice carried a strange robotic flatness, almost as if his words were being filtered.
Unsure of how to react to the compliment, Trunks felt caught off guard. He felt his gut knot with unease as he meekly replied, "Uh… thanks?"
"I want you..." Dr. Vidalia continued, his voice low and measured, "for your power... and for your mind."
His words hit Trunks like a slow shockwave as he echoed back in confusion, "My mind?"
Trunks' thoughts cartwheeled as he tried to interpret the doctor's words. He briefly wondered if the doctor was referring to his Tetran gene, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt increasingly awkward.
Trunks decided he wanted to remove himself from this situation, and leave. But, he wasn't sure where to head.
When he looked over the doctor's shoulder, Trunks could see most of the visitors in the Entry Hall were sitting or standing eerily still, and zombie-like in their silence. Something about the dazed looks in their eyes felt like a looming threat.
Their uniformly hollow eyes and stiff postures made Trunks fear that whatever drained their energy could easily reach him next.
"Come with me to the Laboratory," The doctor's grin widened, yet never touched his calculated gaze, "I want to show you something... enlightening."
The sharp tone made it clear that it was not a request; it was a demand thinly veiled by rhetorical politeness.
Trunks hesitated. His gut twisted, and his instincts continued to scream that something was terribly, horribly wrong.
Then, Dr. Vidalia tilted his head slightly, with a shallow bow that seemed to pull at Trunks' attention as he gestured down the hallway toward the Laboratory.
"I want to watch… your reaction," Dr. Vidalia cooed, his voice a slithery murmur.
Reaction.
The single word hooked Trunks' attention, and he was immediately interested.
Reactions had always been something deeply personal to Trunks - something that resonated with his core nature, and even the root of his friendship with Goten. Even as an adult, he and his sister always found thrill in reactions; they had always been the lifeblood of almost all of his pranks.
Trunks was fascinated by seeing someone's genuine, unscripted response; and, likewise, he also enjoyed being surprised by the unexpected. The thought of reacting to his planet's Laboratory equipment, as something new, appealed to his sense of wonder, and science… and even, admittedly, to his mischievous side.
Yet, despite all of his intrigue, Trunks still felt an odd nagging in his gut. His instincts continued to tell him to turn around and get out of there.
He didn't know where to head, though.
Trunks glanced ahead, past Dr. Vidalia again, trailing his eyes over the zombified visitors in the Entry Hall.
When he looked to his right side, down the long hallway, he saw the back of the burly nurse practitioner who was wheeling away the green-haired boy, whose head was drooped unnaturally to the side, as if unconscious.
The sight of the boy sent a sharp jolt through Trunks. He remembered the boy's intense, cold eyes from earlier, and the vision clung to the recesses of his mind like a lingering shadow.
At that moment, Trunks realized his decision. Trunks wanted to head in the exact opposite direction of the boy, which was coincidentally happened to be in the direction of the Laboratory.
With that thought in mind, Trunks realized that he did, in fact, have a genuine interest in continuing his tour with Dr. Vidalia. His inner scientist tugged at his strings, and Trunks allowed his curiosity to take over. He wanted to think that the Laboratory would be a safe refuge.
For a moment, Trunks thought about Pan and Goku.
He realized they might be waiting for him, but dismissed the concern. He just planned to be in and out; this wouldn't take too long.
"Okay," Trunks nodded, with a steady voice, "Let's head to the Lab."
Dr. Vidalia's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He nodded in silent acknowledgment, and turned mechanically to lead Trunks down the hall - to where enlightenment would lie.
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They stopped in the hallway before a tall, imposing door Its metallic surface gleamed faintly under the sterile glow of the hospital lights. A minimalist white symbol of a microscope was painted across it, stark and simple, yet somehow unsettling in its precision.
Dr. Vidalia's long fingers curled around the handle, and with a soundless push, he swung the door open.
"Welcome," he crooned, his voice low and dripping with measured satisfaction, "to the future."
He stepped inside the room with fluid and deliberate grace, making a slow sweeping gesture to indicate the vast lab before them.
Inside, several staff members in pristine white lab coats moved like specters among the towering machinery that lined the walls. Each machine emitted a steady, droning thrum, like whispers of warning.
Trunks followed Dr. Vidalia inside the Laboratory, trying to contain his hesitant mix of awe and confusion at the sight.
His wide, blue eyes spanned the massive machines that loomed over them like silent giants. Several tables were meticulously arranged with an array of tools - some sharp and surgical, and some others bent in shapes for mechanical maintenance.
Dr. Vidalia's footsteps clicked sharply against the floor, precise and deliberate, as he led Trunks deeper into the heart of the lab.
Along one wall, a holographic projection of a pulsating alien heart floated eerily in midair, with seven chambers that beat in a rhythmic cadence. Alongside it were streams of live data, ranging from chemical formulas and molecular structures, to calculations far beyond even his own understanding. Another screen displayed a vast map of the stars, with holographic Morse-Braille markers that flashed intermittently beside the celestial bodies.
On the opposite wall, a complex digital receiver hummed quietly, with soft pings of data that marked the arrival of satellite transmissions from faraway worlds.
The researchers and lab staff who were present froze at the sight of Dr. Vidalia. A look of quiet submission passed through them as they each turned towards him. They bowed their heads in unison as their lips parted in synchrony.
"My Lord," they breathed in reverence, barely above a whisper.
The air grew heavy as the weight of their obedience filled the room. One by one, they turned and silently filed out of the room with precise, synchronized movements, like a well-rehearsed dance of subservience.
Trunks watched them depart, with puzzlement clouding his expression as he tried to make sense of the eerie greeting they had given the doctor. He cast a glance toward Dr. Vidalia, who was watching him closely, with lips twisted into a subtle, knowing smirk.
As the last of the researchers exited, the final one glanced back and murmured, "We leave the room to you, Our Lord."
-CLICK-
The door shut softly, sealing them within an oppressive hum of the machines.
Dr. Vidalia turned toward Trunks with a smirk etched on his cracked lips. His sharpshooter gaze gleamed with hidden secrets. His intense gaze made the air between them seem to hang heavy and still.
Trunks shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension grow with each passing second. He let out a forced, light-hearted chuckle in an attempt to break the silence, masking his unease with humor.
"So… Lord of the Hospital, huh?" Trunks grinned awkwardly, masking his unease with casual humor, "That's got a nice ring to it," Trying to keep things casual, he added, "Is that how they usually address you?"
Dr. Vidalia tilted his head as though weighing the words. His expression remained distant, and reflective.
"Lord of Salvation…" Dr. Vidalia mused, his voice carrying an eerie weight, "...and Lord of Destruction."
Trunks blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected statement. He felt a chill run up his spine as the cryptic words gnawed at his mind.
Dr. Vidalia, oblivious to Trunks' reaction, continued with a tone tinged with amusement, "How we see things comes down to perspective… does it not?"
Trunks frowned, recognizing the word from his discussion in the Chapel. For a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes, but he quickly shrugged it off, dismissing it as an odd coincidence.
Dr. Vidalia's gaze sharpened suddenly, with eyes locked with an almost predatory intensity.
"Allow me…" his voice smoothed to a silky tone, "...to introduce you to a new perspective."
He moved with measured grace toward the center of the room, his white coat billowing slightly with each step. In the middle of the lab stood a towering microscope, far more intricate than anything Trunks had ever seen. The cold metal gleamed under the harsh lights, and the base of the device had computational machinery with lights that danced with a life of their own.
"This," Dr. Vidalia said, sweeping his right hand toward the machine with the pride of an inventor unveiling his masterpiece, "is the Data MIRROR - our Microscopic Imaging, Resonance and Response, and Optical Renderer. Or, as some might call it… a super electron microscope."
As he spoke, his left hand brushed past a table, his fingers glancing against a small metallic tool that briefly glinted in the light before disappearing into his grasp. Dr. Vidalia's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and triumph. "It is the most advanced microscope across all four quadrants of our known universe. Capable of magnification far beyond anything you've encountered - at least a hundred times more powerful than your Capsule Corp technology."
Trunks raised a brow, his curiosity sparked despite his lingering wariness. "Oh, really?"
"Oh yes," Dr. Vidalia continued, looking triumphant as his voice lowered to a purr, "It's said that those who peer through this microscope achieve… enlightenment."
The word hung in the air like a spell. Trunks' heart quickened as he remembered the doctor's earlier promise. His gaze locked onto the machine with growing intrigue, and he felt something within him pulling him towards it - an unseen force that tugged at his deepest curiosity. It was as if he had heard all of the words that triggered his sense of wonder.
The Doctor's voice was soothing, entrancing as he continued to gesture to the microscope. "There is nothing to shield you from the Truth anymore, Trunks. It's right here."
"The Truth?" Trunks echoed softly as he stared at the machine, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if the very words held him in a trance.
Dr. Vidalia nodded, his eyes glimmering with an unsettling light. "Have you ever wanted it, Trunks Briefs? To understand it all?"
The question washed over Trunks like a wave with its hypotonic tone, drawing him deeper into the allure of discovery. As his vision blurred, and the numbers in his vision danced around uncertainty, the microscope ceased to be just a machine; it now felt like a window to a higher knowledge - something beyond his grasp, yet tantalizingly close.
As though guided by invisible strings, Trunks moved forward, his hand reaching out almost of its own accord. The cool metal of the machine met his fingertips. He was so close to the lens now, he could see his own reflection distorted in the polished glass of the lens.
"Yes, Trunks Briefs…" Dr. Vidalia's voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with anticipation. "You can learn it all … It's just beyond the Looking Glass…"
Trunks hesitated for a fleeting moment. Shadows of doubt clouded his mind - memories of broken friendships, and betrayals, and a nagging question that had haunted him for years.
What is the truth, anyway?
The pull to the Truth was to strong; its promise was too great a lure to resist.
Trunks' hesitation melted away, and then slowly, almost as if in a spell, Trunks leaned down to brush his fingers over the dials of the microscope. His shallow breaths quickened in anticipation as he lowered his right eye to the lens.
As his gaze met the lens, the world before him profoundly shifted. Atoms, particles, and energies morphed and collided within his field of vision, revealing a universe at once both infinitesimal and infinite. It was a cosmic ballet - a mesmerizing dance of matter and energy far beyond anything he had ever imagined.
And then he heard it - a faint, distant sound that came from different voices that called to him.
"Trunks!"
The voice was barely perceptible - barely a whisper carried on a draft, but it struck Trunks like a jolt of electricity.
For a split moment, Trunks forgot about the pull of the microscope, and a bolt of clarity struck through the fog.
Pan.
The name echoed in his mind, snapping him back from the edge.
Reality rushed back with the force of a tidal wave. His breath caught in his throat as his heart thundered in his chest, with each beat a desperate reminder of where he was.
-GLIIIIIIIIIN-
Without warning, Trunks' hand shot up, and caught Dr. Vidalia's wrist.
The tip of a gleaming needle hovered mere millimeters from his neck.
Trunks' pulse pounded in his ears as he met Dr. Vidalia's eyes, wide with disbelief, "Doc… W-why?!"
Dr. Vidalia's smirk deepened, twisting with cruelty. His eyes glowed with malevolent satisfaction.
"I will have you," he hissed with predatory malice, and then as if closing in for the kill, his other hand whipped around in a swift arc.
A surgical hook gleamed in his grasp, its curve catching the light for just a heartbeat before it struck.
-THUNK-
The hook's cold, metallic curve struck with ruthless efficiency, and, as sharp as a predator's fang, it pierced the base of Trunks' neck with surgical precision, right along a nerve cluster.
Trunks' world exploded into pain.
Trunks' entire body betrayed him as he convulsed violently. He gasped, and his muscles seized, with jolts of searing pain that blistered all his nerves. He spasmed so violently that his lungs collapsed, and for a moment, he felt like his entire body had been set ablaze from within - blistering in agony.
And then, just as quickly as the pain had struck, it vanished. The violent surge of agony ebbed, leaving behind a chilling sense of emptiness.
His limbs grew heavy and lifeless. His hand, which had been gripping Dr. Vidalia's wrist, went slack. His uncooperative fingers slowly slipped from their hold.
With helpless finality, Trunks' arm fell limply to his side.
Dr. Vidalia loomed over him, predatory and poised, his movements reminiscent of an uncoiling serpent assessing its prey. His crosshair-like pupils gleamed with a perverse pleasure, and his long, black tongue flicked out to wet his dry, cracked lips.
"You really should have had the water," Dr. Vidalia murmured with a tone edged with mock concern. His wild eyes glinted with intention as he added, "You're looking a little dehydrated."
The realization hit Trunks like a blow. He had been set up from the start.
This was a trap - a meticulous plan to isolate him from his team, to distract him just long enough for the doctor to strike. He had been lured; his guard expertly lowered.
It had all been set-up. He was nothing but prey, ensnared in Dr. Vidalia's carefully laid plan..
At that moment, Trunks almost found humor in the irony that Goku had been right all along.
And then, Dr. Vidalia struck.
With a practiced hand, he deeply jabbed the needle into the side of Trunks' neck, piercing the tip like a fang, deep into his flesh.
Trunks groaned as the doctor injected a cool, clear liquid that surged through Trunks' artery, and quickly heated throughout his body. It spread through molten veins as it pulsed through his heart.
All of his remaining strength drained in an instant. The hot liquid suffused his mind, numbing his thoughts as if shutting down his brain's connection to his body.
Trunks' legs buckled, no longer able to support his weight. His knees gave way beneath him, and he collapsed, hitting the cold tiles with a sickening -thud-, sending shockwaves of agony through his already rattled mind.
-CRACK-
The impact sent a dull echo through the room. As a shockwave of residual pain coursed up his spine. He barely registered the pain. He lay motionless, with vision blurred as black spots danced at the edge of his consciousness.
The white water bottle clattered and rolled in a curve, coming to rest beside his face on the ground.
Staring ahead, his mind scrambled for answers as he tried to breathe. Before he could even process what had happened, though, Dr. Vidalia twisted the hook free. The pain returned in a crashing wave, and Trunks' body jerked at the reignited pain.
Trunks' vision blurred as he lay on the ground, and his mind spiraled in confusion as he sensed Dr. Vidalia crouching beside him. The bloodied surgical hook still glinted in the doctor's left hand as its cruel edge caught the sterile light of the Lab.
Dr. Vidalia leaned in close, his breath hot against Trunks' cheek, a mockery of comfort.
"You filthy Saiyan scum," Dr. Vidalia whispered, his voice soft, almost tender, but dripping with malice. "You stink of meat... you barbaric beast."
Trunks' breath hitched as he lay still, taking shallow breaths as his body trembled from the debilitating pain.
Dr. Vidalia dragged the hook across Trunks' cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. The bloodied metal left a faint red line on his skin. Each moment or torment seemed to fuel Dr. Vidalia's twisted pleasure.
"But the Lord is forgiving," Dr. Vidalia purred, his voice dipped in mockery. His eyes gleamed behind the blue tint of his goggles, watching the fear bleed into Trunks' wide gaze. "The Lord will save you, for I..." he emphasized with boastful pride, "... am your salvation."
Salvation. The word ironically hung in the air like a noose around Trunks' neck.
His chest heaved as he tried to form words, but they caught in his throat, tangled in the panic that was rising within him.
"S-Salvati... on...?" Trunks' voice cracked as his eyes widened.
And then everything came crashing in on him like a blow to his chest as he realized the Truth.
He was not safe.
He was terrified.
He was caught, trapped like prey staring down its predator. The icy grip of fear snaked through his veins, constricting every muscle, every thought.
"Yessss…" Dr. Vidalia hissed victoriously, "I can see it in your eyes… the fear."
Trunks' mind reeled in a whirlwind of panic and desperation, and his instinctive drive to fight surged within him. His Saiyan blood roared for battle, for survival, as he focused all of his might on his energy, and his transformation…
… But when he reached deep inside for his power, for the familiar warmth of his ki - it was gone - just beyond his reach, as his nerves were cut from his control.
His energy flickered like a dying ember. His muscles convulsed but wouldn't respond. His eyes teared up as he realized his whole body had been paralyzed from the neck-down.
Dr. Vidalia's soft, sinister voice cut through the panic like a scalpel, "Yes… your fear..." He leaned in, whispering as though savoring every syllable. "I can taste it."
His mind spiraled with memories of what happened to him last time. He was powerless to stop what was coming. He couldn't move. He could only await his fate.
His connection to his ki, and his strength - all of it was gone - all of drained away by whatever was in the needle. Trunks' mind screamed at him to fight, to move , but his body could not obey. Trunks' body lay vulnerable, locked away as a prisoner to the paralysis that gripped his nerves.
Dr. Vidalia crouched over Trunks' prone body, and traced the bloodied hook up Trunks' chin, slowly, deliberately, the sharp edge biting just enough to leave a thin, stinging cut.
He cooed with vile hunger, "Yes… feel it… the fear. Your reaction… is… delicious."
And then, Trunks saw the intent in Dr. Vidalia's eyes, the doctor held Trunks' head up by his collar, and then began to slowly and deliberately draw his face closer.
Trunks' mind screamed for him to react - to pull away, and get up and fight - but his body was frozen, beyond his control. His vision blurred as the room's LED lights swirled and danced in his peripheral vision. He tried to reach for something - anything - but the weight of his own body on the floor was slipping away as he desperately tried to turn his face away.
Dr. Vidalia's lips hovered his as his calculated eyes bore into his with determination, "What a catch you are, Trunks Briefs. My… prize vessel."
Vidalia's words flooded through Trunks, and the Truth sank deeper than the needle.
With sickening slowness, Dr. Vidalia's lips met his.
Trunks' eyes went wide with terror as the doctor's lips pushed on his mouth and spread his jaw to fill his orifice with his long, thick black tongue.
As their lips crushed, Dr. Vidalia's long tongue jousted down Trunks' throat. And then time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as Dr. Vidalia relished in his absolute dominance.
"Hkk! Hkkhkkk!" Trunks gagged on Dr. Vidalia's tongue.
The tongue continued to snake its way deeper, into his esophagus.
"Hkkkgh!" Trunks choked with wet eyes, as the tongue within his throat began to pulse, spewing ejaculate into his stomach. He gagged as the liquid coated his throat with its sickly-sweet metal.
"Hgghh! Kkkgh!" he struggled.
As he reflexively gagged on the tongue, his throat constricted, and milked the tongue that flooded his body in pulsating waves. Tears streamed down Trunks face as he was forced to swallow, completely dominated into submission by the enemy.
He couldn't stop it.
His paralyzed body was held up by his throat. He was being forced to swallow by reflex. He had no other control.
Each gulp felt like a scalding oil that slithered deeper into his esophagus, burning a path to his belly. And once it was in his core, he felt it spread everywhere as the liquid spread like roots through his body, burrowing into the deepest corners of his being, and his mind.
At first, the agony was unbearable. He bucked his body against the cold floor. His limbs flailed through reflex as he struggled to shake off the venomous tide that swelled within him.
Every nerve in his body flared. His senses collapse in on themselves, overwhelmed by the relentless agony. It spread like wildfire, and the hotter his body felt, the more he felt he was losing himself. The fire was reshaping him, as though every fiber of his tapestry was being resewn.
Each heartbeat felt heavier, and his body was succumbing…
-BA-BUM-...-BA-BUM-...-BA-BUM-...-BA-BUM-...
-BA-BUM-...-BA-BUM-...-BA-BUM-...
Each thud grew quieter… and slower.
He breathed.
And then… he bloomed.
WOOOMMMM.
Trunks' body blossomed like a succulent metallic flower under the heat of the cloud-parted sun, and invited the sweet, thick nourishment that bathed him, and slithered through him like serpents entangling his core. He felt alive, as his awareness expanded.
His vision pulsed in a kaleidoscope of color and chaos. He saw numbers and formulas spiraling around him, swallowing his senses whole. It was as if he had a greater understanding of the fabric of nature, and how all things were part of a storm.
The world around him blurred as he sat up. He otherwise had no power over himself or his thoughts. He was simply one with the Lord… to shelter him and spread seeds of wisdom and enlightenment.
-SMACK-
Dr. Vidalia collapsed beside him, hitting the ground with a lifeless thud.
He didn't notice as a high-pitched wail shrieked through his ears, his vision flickering as the world began to spin and tilt. He did not realize the voice was his own.
His stomach roiled violently, and his breath was ragged as the ground gave way beneath him.
He coiled, and rolled beside the doctor, retching. His fingers clawed desperately at the tiles. But the surface beneath him crumbled away, dissolving into the ether as it slipped through his fingers.
He realized he was sinking.
He felt terror surge through him. He imagined himself clawing at the air, grasping for something solid, but the floor rippled and collapsed, pulling him down into a suffocating void.
He fell through the neck of an hourglass, as black sands swirled around him, pressing in on all sides.
His lungs screamed for air, as he was being buried alive, and the crushing pressure choked him.
His silent scream tore through the air, but it was drowned out by a thousand echoes of his own voice. Each one was a distorted, fractured version of himself, breaking away, splintering into pieces, like grains that fell.
Suddenly, there were distant voices that called from the hallway.
-BOOOM-
The sound reverberated through the Laboratory, as a voice rang out, sharp and urgent, "He's in here! Over here!"
The rush of footsteps was a distant cacophony of noise that barely pierced through the madness that pulled at him.
The voice grew closer, frantic, panicked, "I found him! Trunks! TRUNKS!"
The flurry of movement followed - footsteps pounding, a hurried scramble, rustling, like bodies rushing forward in desperation. "Holy crap… Oh no, what happened?!"
The echo of the voice seemed to ripple in the air, but to Trunks, it was muffled, distant - buried under layers of oozing, suffocating tar.
The voice came from an impossible distance, as if it were the lingering echo from the other side of a bottomless chasm.
"Wake up! Wake up, Trunks!"
Hands shook him.
The sensation was far away - dull, like a sleep of death from which his dreams may come.
He could not reawaken.
His mind felt heavy, dragging him down deeper into the suffocating darkness. He tried to resist and stay awake, but the more he struggled, the harder it pulled.
He was being suffocated, and swallowed.
A soft, viperous chuckle interrupted the silence, and he vibrated with it, as if he were in the belly of the laughing beast.
The sound was distant at first, as his weightless body pulsed within the dark pressure all around.
"Stay with me! Stay with me, Trunks!" The voice was a faint plea, but her words seemed impossibly far away, echoing through the abyss.
He heard chortling as he tried to respond - tried to reach back, but he had no arms now; no voice. He was being taken away, down into the enemy's den.
His mind spiraled, caught between the real world laughter that pervaded him, and the nightmare that pulled him under.
The laughter roared as he kept hearing echoes of screams.
He lay on his back - or at arms, looking up to the white ceiling.
He watched mandalas and paisley patterns twist and mangle, moving as 1s and 0s. They swirled as digital whirlpools that snaked across his vision.
11000…1100…1..0110100001000100010001010011010100011100011001000100010..
The laughter raged and boomed among his orifices. He shuddered and shook, and each spasm manifested as deep rooted, diaphragm rumbling chuckles, until all he could feel was the shaking of laughter.
His whole world erupted as a volcano of laughter as his eyes streamed tears and he was crushed with absolute fear.
He realized he was the one laughing, all along.
"Hehehaha-HaHaHa-HAHAHAHA!" he cried, as he spiraled into an endless abyss of 1s and 0s, ""HAHAHAHAhahaha….!"
The ghostly laughter echoed through the void as Trunks fell through the rabbit hole.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
—..—..—..—..—..—..—HAHA
—-11111HAHAHA
—111HAHA
11101HA
1010
100
00
0
0
.
.
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–9/13/24–