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Nowhere: 1
By : FelixMcKadden
Category: Missing Data > Missing Data
Views: 105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 11
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Nowhere: 12
A quick shake brought the prince out of peaceful slumber. "Sleep well?" a slightly muffled voice asked. He opened his eyes blearily, blinking away his sleepiness. Focusing on a figure above him, an orange glow became a beacon in the darkness. With a near-silent huff, he rolled over, intent on falling back into the realm of unconsciousness. "Hey, Vegeta," a quiet voice called out, "Wakey wakey, let's get nakey..."
That woke him up. His eyes immediately snapped open. He flung his fist out, aiming towards the soft, warm glow. A smack was heard and was accompanied by a loud, "Ow!" He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and squatted more than sat due to the lack of box springs. "The thanks I get for my hospitality," Kakarot's voice mock-pouted.
"Hospitality!" Vegeta groggily growled out, "I don't think it was very hospitable when you jammed your tongue down my throat last night."
"Ha! I knew it! I knew you'd still be bent out of shape because of that, and that's why I was waking you up. You see, I'd like to make it up to you."
"Let me guess - no - hope that you're going to draw a bath and decide to take the toaster with you while it's plugged in?"
"No, uh, it's better than that."
"I get to drop the toaster in?"
"No, I'm going to treat you."
"Treat me like what? A sexual object for you to toy with?"
"Nah, I'll do that later. But for now I'm going to treat you to a night on the town! Well, afternoon too, but you get the point."
"And what makes you think that I'm going to agree to this?"
"Well," Kakarot's voice turned sly, and suddenly Vegeta was crushed against the larger man, "We could just stay right here together..."
Bursting from the hold he was in, Vegeta shot up, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbled towards the doorway, "Oh shut up. Let's go already if we're going to go."
Kakarot bound past him and went to his flat door, opening it for his guest, "After you." Vegeta grunted and grabbed a jacket that was slung over a lamp. He slipped on the piece of stained denim, eyeing the black-haired man wearily. The other only grinned broadly, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
As Kakarot shut the door, some neighbours two doors down began arguing quite loudly and obnoxiously. "Not again," the younger man sighed, marched down the hall, and banged on the door. "YOUR WIFE DID NOT HIDE YOUR GLASSES. YOU LOST THEM IN THE SEAT CUSHION OF YOUR GREEN CHAIR," he bellowed through the door.
A pause before a shout of triumph came from within, "Hot damn! How'd you know they were there? Thanks, sonny!"
Kakarot motioned for them to leave and they began the descent of the staircase. "How did I know they were there?" he rolled his eyes then gave his head a shake, "Maybe because the same thing happens every week." And they were off.
They travelled past the Apothecary, down to Holmescraft Avenue, then took the underground train. They had never taken public transportation together, and Vegeta hadn't at all. The prince was not impressed by the number of new odours he discovered in the confined space. Half of the lights were burnt out and the other half of them flickered as if loose in their sockets. The level of degradation was probably at an all time high. "It's a miracle at all that the damn thing runs," Vegeta silently mused, "It's as if it's held together by prayer."
Kakarot, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. He leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling with his legs stretched out. Vegeta kept his arms folded and his gaze fixated on the floor. He did not wish to accidentally instigate some unwanted attention.
A crackling loudspeaker sparked to life, announcing the 12th Street and Abbey stop, though it was barely understandable. Kakarot got up and stretched, nudging the brunet to indicate he should prepare for departure.
The train came to an abrupt halt, and Vegeta careened into Kakarot who caught him with ease. He chuckled at the older man, "Need a little help?" He curled an arm around Vegeta's lower back while his free hand reached for the prince's closest arm - to guide him as if he was elderly and needed the assistance.
"Get off me!" Vegeta hissed, pushing him away. Kakarot tumbled backward, almost hitting a bystander.
"I was just kidding," the sable-haired grunted while rising to his feet and ignoring looks from all around. The doors opened and Vegeta stepped off of the demon vehicle, watching Kakarot flock to avoid the crowd.
"Okay, it's not far from here," he happily announced, apparently over the shoving incident. Whether he was or not was a different matter entirely, but Vegeta would rather simply ignore it so he nodded in acknowledgment.
The rain lifted to a light drizzle, the overcast almost breaking. Sunlight threatened to spill onto the festering world below, but Vegeta turned his attention to the ground. He knew the clouds would not dissipate. He knew that the rain would return, whether if in minutes or hours.
"We're here!" Kakarot announced while spreading out his arms in a gesture of "ta da." Vegeta allowed his gaze to rise, and in front of him was an old, baroque styled building, or at least what he assumed was baroque. Columns littered the large block of carved stone, especially on the steps. From the rusted sign planted on the filthy white marble, Vegeta deduced that this was a "Museum of Science and Industry," except some of the letters were missing:
MUSE__ OF _CIEN__ AND __DUST__
Kakarot was bounding up the stairs - his trench coat swaying in a rhythm of his movement. He purposely hit all the puddles in his path without any sign of worry. Vegeta cautiously jogged after him, careful to ensure he wouldn't slip on the slick rock. They reached the plateau and slowed down, leisurely approaching the front doors which were heavy copper and bronze. The copper was now green due to the passage of time as well as the weather conditions. Ornate designs covered them from hinge to hinge; even the handles didn't escape the fanciful shaping. The two men opened the doors with slight difficulty and set their eyes upon the inside.
Dim lights drowned the lobby in a soft, almost timid glow. The amber tint, as well as the stillness of the air, gave the feeling of age. It was as if they were in a crypt, except at room temperature.
Kakarot strolled up to the front desk, causing his footsteps to ring down distant halls. He paused at the unmanned station and peered around for any signs of life. "Guess no one's here," he concluded as he turned around to expose a huge grin he was now sporting, "That means we get the whole place to ourselves." He immediately veered towards the left hall, skipping till he reached the first display.
"This is the evolution of the spoon," the black-haired man read aloud. He stared, dumbfounded, at the display. Vegeta joined him a moment later much to the prince's chagrin.
"How fascinating," Vegeta said dryly - flatly. His eyes scanned over the time line and visual aids with detached interest.
"Right," his companion agreed before slowly side-stepping, "Let's move on." His strafing led the pair to another display. "Here is an authentic phonograph, complete with a record. These devices were used to play music over one hundred generations ago."
"Exciting," Vegeta retorted.
"To function these machines one places the needle within the outermost groove of the record and cranks the handle," the younger male concluded, then abruptly hopped over the railing. Vegeta raised an eyebrow as his friend examined the antique device. As per the instructions, he lifted the needle, put it in the specified place, and cranked the handle for a good ten seconds or so before he released his grip and stood back.
Static crinkled from the golden-bronze cone.
Then...
Noise.
A metallic droning sound burst through the hallways, echoing and reverberating within the vast monument of architecture. It was as if two dying birds were crying for help towards one another. No, not birds... something... else... with feathered wings...
Vegeta winced at the sound as it triggered something inside of him, something he couldn't place. Kakarot looked bewildered, but not nearly as startled as his counter-part.
"It sounds unnatural," Vegeta thought, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Kakarot," the brunet called out, "Turn it off!" His command wasn't obeyed because his voice hadn't actually made it past his lips. His heart was pounding in his chest. Unnatural... The room was spinning, in focus, then gone in a blur, then wrongly proportioned, then gently gliding, moving, flowing, fading, coming, going... gone and there in no particular order.
WHERE AM I?
WHAT HAPPENED?
this is your greatest failure yet, vegeta.
if only you could laugh at your mistakes.
Then... the museum.
Kakarot had disengaged the needle and was climbing back over the rope when the brunet realised something horrible had just happened, yet he was clueless as to what and to what degree.
He shook it off as his companion returned to his side. They continued their trek to the end of the hall, eventually investigating the second. One particular display caught both of their interest.
"This display is of a layer from the body of James Van Epstein," Kakarot murmured. Vegeta could not help but stare. There was something strangely intriguing, yet slightly off-putting about a body donated to science. A layer of a once living person - a slice of skull, skin, tissue, muscle, and brain - showcased. A piece of a person for the masses to gawk at. It didn’t disgust him, but it did unnerve him, yet he didn't know why.
"Let's go down the third hall," Vegeta suggested sluggishly. From the corner of his eye he saw his friend nodding. He forced himself away from the preserved remains and led the duo towards the final hallway.
Upon entering, he blinked several times as if doubting his sight, and then it was confirmed when Kakarot spoke. "Where's all the displays?" he asked while twirling around to see empty cases in every direction. The room was completely barren save for the dust collecting in every nook and cranny. Spot lights cast down upon nothing. Not even the plaques survived this void of presentation - at least - engraved plaques. The younger man released a heavy sigh, "Let's go. I'm getting kind of hungry anyways."
Vegeta concurred, trailing after his friend. Something called to him, like an itch in his mind, or a hint to a mystery. A powerful impulse coursed through him and he yielded to it, tilting his head back. Across the vaulted, arched ceiling high above, he could faintly make out a mural painted in black upon black. He felt compelled to say nothing.
On their way out, the prince abruptly halted in his path. Kakarot looked back at him curiously, taking the time to inhale a long drag. The elder appeared to be examining something, and when he stood up straight again Kakarot could see that it was a small box which was resting on a stand. He squinted slightly to make out the wording.
With precise aim, Vegeta brought his elbow down onto the donation box. The wood crunched beneath the force easily due to its rotting state. The lid and lock went crashing to the floor, and, without hesitation, Vegeta reached inside to pilfer his heart out. He counted the change in his hands. "It could pass for a meal," he announced before putting the money into his pocket. They left in silence, the heavy doors clanging behind them, as if locking themselves. Vegeta had a feeling that they were the museums only visitors in a very long time. He also felt, for some reason, that they'd be the last.
He came. He saw. He stole.
They walked a few blocks, dodging into the nearest bus stop when the rain picked up. The warped plastic provided minimal shelter and several others had already squeezed themselves onto the bench. Kakarot and Vegeta stood in close proximity, trying to keep the cold out. Thankfully, the public transit arrived in a few scarce minutes. The two men paid the fee as they got on and took residence in the front, standing across from one another regardless that there were some available seats. About halfway through the trip, the black-haired one began to hum a soft, almost-sweet tune. Vegeta glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but continued to look at nothing, afraid that - perchance - he'd start another hunt, like what happened previously. That day...
Why did he even run? He could've stopped them, he thought. Then he realised how ridiculous that sounded, even in his head, but unfortunately he couldn't halt the resounding irrationality that bounced between fight and flight. There was too little that made sense. For instance, here was Kakarot before him, but this was not the Kakarot he knew. The Kakarot he knew was a third-class--
He shook his head a bit as if to clear it, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion and concentration. Kakarot was a third class... A third-class what? The noun eluded him. He was a third-class. A third-class. Third-class... A third-class what!?
His mental drama abruptly came to an end as the very person he was thinking about began to murmur the tune.
"Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale..."
Vegeta sighed silently, exhaling through his nose. Everything was too muddled up, too real to be fake, and too fake to recognise. It was like living in a dream - having no control. But is there control when one is awake? He attempted to organise his thoughts in order to give himself a base, to give himself... comfort.
How humiliating.
"Feeling humiliated..?!" the words burst up his throat and past his lips before he even realised he was speaking out loud.
Kakarot's soft serenade abruptly broke off as he heard his shorter companion speak, "Hmm? What's that?" Vegeta shook his head and looked away from the other man, embarrassed by his own behaviour.
"'What's that?' indeed," the prince sulked internally. He knew what is was, but he didn't know why he'd spoken it. It was a sudden phrase in his mind, over-powering, dominating for no reason other than to be spoken. It came smoothly, as if the situation permitted it. There was emotion with those words. Anger. So much anger. However, he felt none of it, as if he was immune to its effects. Maybe numb. It was if the words themselves had become a brief embodiment of rage and they used him as a host. Stranger still, he knew the answer to the question. As soon as he noticed it within his grasp, he held it, and repeated it numerous times in an attempt to decipher it.
"You don't even know what humiliation is."
Humiliation. What was it? An emotion.
He tried to think how it felt to feel humiliated.
But realised he couldn't remember.
Oh god...
Could he even feel at all...?
The bus began to decrease in speed and Kakarot confirmed that this was their destination. The vehicle came to a complete stop before opening its doors. "Vegeta," the black-haired man's voice broke the brunet from his inner pondering.
The two travellers strode out onto the sidewalk, free from the metal confines. Kakarot led them down a small stretch of specialty shops until they turned towards a particular place that had a canopy overhanging. The taller of the two held the door open, "Despots first." Vegeta pulled his lips back in a snide sort of smirk, as if to emphasise sarcasm, but he accepted and stepped through the door into a rather dimly lit entryway. He glanced around at the burnt out bulbs before turning his gaze in front of him where a podium stood with a middle-aged woman behind it chewing on a piece of gum. Kakarot took the initiative and told her, "Booth for two."
The woman grabbed two menus and guided them to the far back left corner, seating them across from one another. Vegeta got the distinct feeling that she wanted them as far away from her as she could manage. Kakarot thought it was sweet of her to get them such a secluded spot where they wouldn't be bothered. A waitress came by to take their orders. Kakarot smiled jovially at her and set down his menu, interlacing his fingers, "I'll have the special and a root beer float."
"We only have diet root beer right now," the girl replied.
"A diet root beer float then."
"And the ice cream is sugarless, 'cause that's all we could get on short notice."
"I'll be daring," Kakarot insisted, "Bring it on."
The young lady shrugged and picked up his menu; then, she turned to Vegeta, "And what'll you have?"
Vegeta folded up his menu and passed it to her, "A number two with no mayo. And some coffee. Black." She scribbled something down on a pad of paper and walked off.
Now the prince had been waiting with dread for this particular part. He loathed the mere thought of small talk with the other man. It was probably because he was worried that the younger would flirt with him, but there was also a distinct possibility that it'd be because Kakarot would say something he might not want to hear, regarding things he did not even want to think about, let alone discuss. He glanced up to see the younger staring idly at a painting on the wall. When the younger began to hum again, Vegeta traced a pattern in the polished wooden table with his fingertips.
Suddenly Kakarot's voice broke the quiet air, his voice smooth, almost soothing, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale... high above me..." Vegeta slouched down, trying to hide from the attention which was suddenly bestowed upon them. Oblivious, Kakarot continued to sing on.
Vegeta could take no more of what he viewed to be punishment. Leaning over and hissing through his clenched teeth, he asked, "Are you quite through?!"
Kakarot smiled at him warmly, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale... oh... sing... sweet..." Beaming with pride, he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, declaring, "I'm done now. What's the matter? Don't you like my song?"
Vegeta massaged his temples, closing his eyes, "You're a man singing about a nightingale for fuck's sake."
Kakarot grinned widely as he crossed his arms - obviously not fazed by the implications, "Yes. So?"
Vegeta looked up at him and rolled his eyes while mumbling, "I shouldn't have expected more from you."
The younger man leaned back into the booth and a frown crept onto his features, "It holds special meaning for me, Vegeta."
The prince raised an eyebrow, letting his head rest in one hand as the other laid on the table, "Oh, does it?"
The other man's features darkened a bit more, "Are you insinuating that my voice is horrible?" Vegeta stared blankly at him, not sure exactly how to respond. The black-haired one extended his arms and sung loudly for the royal man, "I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me! Boy, you just don't realise what you do to me!"
Vegeta flushed crimson immediately, "Shh! Kakarot!"
Unwilling to listen, his friend stood up to place one foot on the table top, "Your lips are sweet as candy - yeah! - the taste is on my mind! Boy, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine!"
"Kakarot, sit down before I deck you!"
Grinning from ear to ear, his companion obeyed, but only after bowing slightly to the applause he received, "See? They liked my singing, Vegeta."
The brunet shifted sideways in his seat and he looked up at the ceiling, thinking, "This is much worse than small talk."
Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their orders which she set on the table. "A special, a root beer float, a number two, and a cup of coffee," she listed.
Vegeta dove into his sandwich and stopped on the first bite, not even severing the piece completely from the rest of the sandwich. He put the food item back down, "I asked for no mayo." The waitress took off the top slice of bread, which held the mayo, wiped off the white cream on the edge of the table and put the grain product back on. "Why... thank you," Vegeta said sarcastically.
"No problem," the girl said with smile that matched his voice. She promptly departed.
Laughing, Kakarot commented, "I saw that on a commercial once. Dude, props to her for having the balls to do it." Ignoring his friend's plight, he took out a fork and dug into his meal. After a few bites, however, it became his turn to complain, "This is so nasty. Seriously." He ate a few more bites, then talked with his mouth full, "This is worse than barf. I mean, well, fuck..." Still he ate, "Ugh, I've eaten things that were more toxic than this and this still manages to have a more revolting flavour."
Vegeta finally snapped at him, "Then why do you eat it?"
"Well, for one, I'm really that hungry," Kakarot finished it off, "and for another, there's just some things you don't understand about me, Vegeta."
The words were a trigger to something inside his head.
Another reminder.
This Kakarot was not his Kakarot.
A known stranger, an unknown friend.
What anomaly would permit such distortion?
"Tell me," the Prince of Saiyans found himself speaking. His words were slow and deliberate now - oily even.
"Hmm?" was the reply.
"Tell me the truth. About this place. About you."
Kakarot first raised an eyebrow, then a sly smirk spread across his lips.
Several moments passed in silence.
His voice came as an almost-whisper, barely audible over the other conversations in the restaurant, "The flat that I live in... I murdered the previous owner." Vegeta gaped at the dark expression his companion wore. Somehow, in his mind, all his previous associations were shot to hell. Part of his foundation crumbled before him. The shock disoriented him. Kakarot was not innocent? Kakarot committed murder? Impossible.
But why? Why were there associations in the first place? Why would-
"He did something so terrible that I had to do it. It was only what was right to do."
Vegeta breathed again, "...Self-defence?"
"You could say that," Kakarot's face brightened slightly, yet somehow not in a positive manner, "Look, he gave me this." He shrugged off his coat and lifted his shirt so that it bunched around the collar. Across the pale, toned plane of his chest was a long, jagged scar that was discoloured darker than the rest of the skin. It spanned diagonally, starting at the top of the left pectoral and ending under the right side of his ribcage. The brunet stared at the memory of an injury while noting how strange the blemish's shape was – wondering what could have possibly caused it.
Vegeta felt like shit, all of the sudden. The kind of feeling, he imagined, you'd receive from pissing in the holy water only to sober up and realise what you had done. Irrevocable, uncomfortable, and noteworthy.
"...I'm done if you're done."
The other nodded once in response, "Okay."
They left without paying.
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Nowhere: 1	By : FelixMcKadden Category: Missing Data > Missing Data Views: 105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer:

Nowhere: 1