Chapter 2 MALVA

Mal has absolutely no idea of how much time has passed between getting shot like a rabid animal and being shoved onto some damp, smelly cot. And the bag over her head doesn't make things any easier.

At some point, she caught a glimpse of a dark blue sky through some high-up window when two men came in. They forced a bunch of pills down her throat before trying to drown her in a glass of water, and Mal had never had to try so hard not to laugh at someone trying to kill her.

The situation was so absurdly ridiculous that Mal was actually the one to offer to take the two men out of their misery, calmly guiding them into giving her water between a few chuckles.

Since then, she has attempted counting to one thousand a handful of times in order to stay awake, but her mind is hazy and her body feels like lead.

The realization she had fallen asleep despite her efforts, dawns on her when two pairs of strong hands start grabbing at her.

Mal has no strength to fight back. Instead, she feels so high on the drugs they forced down her throat earlier that night, that a bemused squeak and a lazy stretch are the only things her kidnappers get out of her until they decide to rudely drop her on her ribs.

Mal cringes in pain when her body collides with the cold floor, and she lets out a wet cough. She only notices the taste of blood and the sting on her lip after a brief moment; once she opens her eyes and sees the small red drops on the white-tiled floor.

Rubbing her ribs slowly as she analyzes her immediate surroundings, Mal notices that wherever that place is it isn't that filthy basement they had initially put her in. In fact, it looks like an old mansion.

Four men stand around her, but she only recognizes one of them. Jimenez. Her contact. The one who had been bold enough to screw her over.

Mal is actually a bit proud of the man. He looked two seconds from wetting his pants the first time they spoke, and it had been through a video call. Of course, now she knows why he was acting so skittish. The whole job had clearly been a set-up from the start.

It all made her very curious, in all honesty. And despite her other mind still being silent under so many drugs, she's sure they would also want to know what exactly was happening.

Mal glances around slowly, she can easily label the two beefy men as goons, and probably the ones to almost kill her with a glass of water. The fourth man, however, is new.

He has an interesting aura about him and pretty silver eyes - cold and clearly calculating as they stare right back at her.

"You call that a test subject?" The mysterious man questions. And just like the rest of him, his voice is... imposing. But quiet.

"Like silent lightning," she whispers to herself, narrating an old poem she had once read. "What was it, again? You can feel its power, but you can never hear its roaring."

"What is it talking about?" The way the dim light caught in his clear eyes got her attention immediately. They really were like liquid silver and had a glimmering to them that was quite like ice on fire.

It's beautiful, Mal thinks. Yet, she finds the disgusted glare he's aiming at her so very annoying.

"It's filthy."

"Well, you're rude," Mal quips back, furrowing her brows. "And I go by she/her pronouns, thank you very much."

The stranger looks displeased, and Mal knows he wasn't expecting her to act so casually, given the apparent difference in their power. It's a provocation, but it's also a way to see what they will do about it.

"She may not look like it, but she does have a strong mind," Dr Jimenez pats Mal on the shoulder and pulls her by the hand, forcing her to her feet. Mal doesn't bother trying to understand what the man is talking about, nor does she pretend to be bothered by how friendly he's behaving for someone who has literally just betrayed her. "That's why I chose her. I'm pretty confident that she'll be the one to help us finish this project."

Mal's eyes wander around the place while Jimenez continues. She still feels dizzy and couldn't care less what the conversation is about.

"I'm sorry if she doesn't look well. We had to triple the dose in order to get her to sleep, so it took a while to chip her before bringing her in. We had to keep her in the lower level until that was done."

"You needed that big a dose just for this little girl?" The mysterious man has such an arrogant air to his tone. It sounds even worse if Mal takes his fine clothing into consideration. Curiously, however, both of his hands and his neck are wrapped in bandages. A single dark, jagged scar crosses his left cheek from just under his eye, over the corner of his lips, and all the way under the bandages around his neck.

Mal openly studies his face, absentmindedly in her doped state. She almost misses the small cocky smile that crosses his features when he catches her staring. The man crosses his arms with his eyes fixed on her, but Mal suddenly wants to look anywhere but at him.

Weird, she thinks as she tries to set a pile of files on top of the desk to her left on fire just with her gaze. It doesn't work.

"Where did you find her? I'm sorry, but I can't see you going through all this trouble just to bring me some random girl."

"She's not some random girl. She's the one we've been looking for to test the new model. Now that it's almost done, we only need to confirm if it works! So tell me. The two boys I brought to you last week, how are they?"

At the last question, the tall, blond man with silver eyes sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Mal can almost physically feel the frustration coming off him in waves.

"They're dead," he says and looks in her direction for a second before turning back to Dr Jimenez. "One of them died even before I connected him, and the other didn't make it through the first test."

Mal is simply walking around the room at this point. She knows the two goons are keeping a close eye on her. And besides, she's handcuffed, so even if she did plan on doing something she would likely get subdued before ever escaping that place.

Speaking of that place, wherever it was, it was clearly located somewhere distant. There was no city noise, and the laboratory equipment she was seeing around would be difficult to move around without being noticed.

Mal had never seen that many laboratories, to be sure, but this one definitely looks like what she would consider one. There's a big counter covered in odd mechanisms and vials, a chair and a table in a corner with papers and books all over the place. But what really catches her attention is a portrait of a black-haired woman hugging what could possibly be a younger version of the blond man with silver eyes.

Mal sits on the chair and analyses the photo for a long moment without touching it; completely oblivious to the ongoing conversation until the death of those who came before her.

"Guess I'm going to die after all," she says without looking away from the photo.

If any of the men hear her, none of them gives any sign of it. They simply keep going;

"Well, Mr Vern, I'll leave Ms Malva in your hands. I would recommend giving her at least 48 hours to get all the medication out of her system. Unless you wish for her to break just like the others." Jimenez hands the blond man - who Mal now knows to be called Vern - an envelope. The old doctor whispers something into the bandaged man's ear, then turns to her, "Goodbye, miss. It was certainly a pleasure meeting you in person."

Unimpressed, Mal just looks at the treacherous man until he and his goons leave. Once Dr Vern is the only person left in her immediate vicinity, Mal goes back to studying his figure quietly. She watches him open the envelope and notices the familiar symbol of Guniverre Mental Hospital - the place where she had spent four years of her life; and possibly the worst ones too. Mal is well familiar with the apparent layout of the document Dr Jimenez has handed the other man. And she's very curious as to how the rat man managed to get his hands on her patient form from so long ago.

"Hm..." Dr Vern frowns at the sight of her sitting on his chair. Once again, he looks disgusted.

Had Mal been feeling just a little less dirty she would have stared right back just to spite him. However, she feels really dirty. And she smells foul even to herself with old rotting blood and garbage - probably from the night she had fallen in that alley. So she moves away from the man's desk and everything else. From that moment on, she decides it would be better to keep her distance from anything belonging to the man. At least until she understood a bit more about him and his plans.

"It looks like you're no longer alive," he says, sounding particularly satisfied with her decision to stop touching his things. But to his words, Mal just shrugs uninterested. "To the rest of the world, you've been dead for the past six years due to an infection."

Mal looks him in the eyes, suddenly feeling a little smug. Little do you know about me being dead, she thought. And said;

"Been dead for quite a while."

Mal walks in his direction but stops a few steps away - knowing very well she smells like a decomposing body at that point. Even if he is involved in the whole scheme to get her to that place, she isn't that petty to feel like he had to smell that.

Actually..., she thinks and says, "Look, I particularly don't care what you plan to do with me here, but I could really use a shower. I feel sticky; nasty."

Vern has an unreadable aura to himself. He looks so tranquil it borders on irritating.

What a mysterious man, she thinks, as both stare at each other in silence.

"You don't seem mentally ill, so how did you get to the locked ward? Only the dangerous ones are locked in there."

Mal shrugs again, appreciating the change of subject.

"That's a very long, very dramatic and very boring family story," Mal studies her nails for a brief moment. "It's also a story I don't plan to tell you since it's none of your business. You really don't need to know."

"Is that so?" Dr Vern smirks and Mal watches him move away from the counter he had been leaning on. He points at a door to his side. "Come," he said in a commanding voice.

There was definitely something threatening in the way he walked... Something about his stance felt familiar like maybe he was a predator too. For a moment it even had Mal hesitating. But, ultimately, she ended up following him anyway.

What a big room, she thinks as she paces around, observing the expensive furniture and the comfortable bed. It's awfully luxurious, with a high ceiling and oak floors. An odd cell for a prisoner.

"This is where you'll stay. The door to your left leads to the bathroom, and you'll find clothes right there," Dr Vern indicates the chiffonier by the bathroom door before moving to the exit. "I'll examine you tomorrow and run some tests in order to calibrate the equipment for testing. Until then you are not supposed to eat anything."

He reaches for the door handle but turns around sensing she isn't paying attention. "Dr Jimenez might never have intended to kill you, but whatever you do, from now until you prove yourself useful, might still mean the end of your life."

Mal was looking at the ceiling, amazed by the size of the crystal chandelier hanging from it. She didn't really mind the man's words until he mentioned Jimenez again.

Well, Mal isn't that great at a lot of things, however, holding a grudge and getting revenge are two of the few things she truly excels at. So, who could blame her for all the little fantasies playing in her head whenever she heard the name of the one who screwed her over. That man's name was going to keep bringing back all of those little memories she hated the most.

Mal isn't a fan of that sense of a pit forming in her stomach that came with the unbeatable feeling of powerlessness. It's like a big crimson wave of pain and despair that reminds her too much of when she was alone and thought she was going to die when there was no one there to save her.

That line of thought has Mal rubbing a hand over her stomach, softly trailing her finger over the spot where she still holds a particularly nasty scar from one of the first times someone had betrayed her. It's fascinating for her how the scar still stings after so many years. It's faint, almost imperceptible, but it's still there; just like the images of her crawling in a dirty cold room, begging for her life.

Mal will likely never forgive Jimenez; not for making her relive that.

"Is that an invitation, sir?" Mal says coolly. Her eyes have never left the chandelier.

"A warning," Mr Vern answers. "If you really want to have a chance at ever leaving this place alive, I suggest you behave."

"Right," Mal sounds playful as she swirls around to face him. With a big, venomous grin plastered on her face - still bloodied from when she bit her lip earlier. "Oh, I'm desperate! Please let me go, mister. Please! I'm so scared!"

She laughed before the other could answer.

"Is this what you expected me to be like?" Mal turns around once more to face the crystals hanging from the chandelier. They really did look like glass tears. "Freedom is a relative concept, V. I'm more interested in revenge."

If the man gets bothered by the way she addresses him, he doesn't show it. On the contrary, his lips draw a dark smile before he questions, "And whom might you be plotting against this time?" When Mal glances at him over her shoulder she's smiling too. "Based on your file you have a long history of violent retribution."

Mal doesn't respond, instead, her smile widens just a little bit more and she winks at him.

But V also doesn't continue.

"We'll see each other in the morning," V steps out of the room. "Do something about that blood."

Mr Vern locks the door behind him, but it does not faze Mal in the least. All she does is keep looking at the crystal chandelier for a little while longer. Thinking about what she's managed to do to herself again.

She allowed herself to be deceived once again. And now she's going to be blamed one more time for having to get even.