Chapter Text
Subspace has been working for Blackrock’s scientific department ever since he first spawned. First as an intern at ten, after he’d been around for a few days so he could adjust to the whole being alive thing. His first promotion came at fifteen, when he became a full-fledged scientist under the chemistry division. His second promotion happened when he was seventeen, soon after he discovered anomalous properties in crystals that had been mined out in Blackrock’s mountains. Since then, he’s climbed the rest of the ranks startlingly fast — aside from those few months where he’d had to stay in the medical wing after that one altercation.
Anyway. He’s more attentive than any of his other colleagues, if he’s allowed to comment on himself like that. He knows about most of the demons Blackrock experiments on, he’s helped with a handful of them and used even more for his own research. Most are disposable; you can only get a few uses out of them before they wind up dead from a particularly lethal experiment. Some are stronger, some last longer. It depends on the quality. Playgrounders, for example, are some of the worst demons to experiment on — they’re weak. Which is a shame considering most of the demons they take are from Playground.
Subspace hasn’t done any experimenting in quite a while. After being promoted to being the head of the robotics division, he hasn’t had time to do anything aside from come up with new Biograft prototypes and tweak existing models. It’s tedious, boring work; he loves his Biografts, but he prefers working with his poison and the crystals he’d evolved so much more. Robots don’t feel. They don’t scream unless you for some reason program them to, and even then it’s boring. It’s not real.
All he can do is hope that they give him an excuse to work on his passion again.
And, one day during the middle of him working on a spreadsheet, that very thing happens to fall out of the sky.
“Subject 2826.” Subspace’s supervisor says, throwing a loaded file onto Subspace’s desk — interrupting the work that he had to get done before the day’s end.
Subspace looks up from his computer, eye narrowing at the packet. “What??” He asks dumbly, quickly saving the spreadsheet he was working on before closing out of the tab. “What about it?”
“ Him. ” His supervisor corrects.
It takes Subspace a moment to gather what they’re talking about, and his eye narrows further when he figures it out. “The demigod,” he says. “What about him?”
He’s heard a lot about him. 2826 — the first demigod to be spawned in the Inphinity. He was stolen from the deities when he was eleven, somehow, Subspace has never heard the specifics. He was taken long before Subspace was spawned and thrown into the most well-guarded sector of Blackrock for testing.
Subspace may not know how he was taken, but he knows of the rumors of what transpired afterwards. Of how Windforce devastated half of Blackrock, desperate to get her son back — to no avail. He doesn’t know how she was unable to succeed. He doesn’t have a clue. But she obviously failed, considering 2826 is still regularly used for experiments and tests.
He’s heard other rumors going around the workplace as of late. Something about a breakthrough. He knows better than to ask around.
“You’ve been here long enough,” his supervisor says stiffly. “You’re not one to ask inane questions. You’re a follower.”
Subspace doesn’t know whether to be offended or not. He opens his mouth to speak, but his supervisor decides to continue their speech.
“We could use your help with 2826’s current batch of tests.” They say, drumming a finger against his desk. “If you aren’t too busy, that is.” Their eyes glance to his computer.
Subspace pauses, looking around the lab for a moment. He was already pretty high up in the faction’s standing, but this? This is a whole new level. Only the best of the best were assigned to work with 2826.
And he’s always been an overachiever, biting off a bit more than he can chew.
“Okay!!” Subspace says, a bit too cheerfully — his supervisor’s eyes narrow slightly, and they point to the file they’d thrown on his desk.
“Skim through that and be at the forensics division by seven. Someone will be there to escort you to 2826’s room.”
Subspace nods, pushing his keyboard aside and grabbing onto the file as his supervisor walks away. It’s bulky, the file can barely hold all of the papers that were stuffed into it. His gaze flits to the time on his computer’s monitor; 6:01. He has enough time to do a bit of reading, the forensics division is only a ten minute walk from the robotics division anyway.
He pulls one of the pages out starting at the top, and reads what’s on the document:
02/21/XX
Recent retrieval of the new deity has gone well. The imp is to be designated as 2826 — remove all traces of his previous name from records.
Huh. Subspace reads on, his curiosity piqued despite the uneasy feeling he got from reading those first few lines.
Further findings indicate 2826 isn’t a deity at all. He has yet to heal from the injury given to him during his retrieval, despite it being a few hours since.
02/22/XX
2826 is fully healed. Perhaps he is some sort of deity after all — no demon would heal from that heavy of an injury this quickly. It is a good thing he’s still living.
Note to test his durability on a later occasion.
02/23/XX
The weather has been chaotic as of late, and it seems to be affecting 2826. 2826 has been muttering to himself in his room, seeming to speak to someone who isn’t there. We ordered a psych evaluation for him, but all of the tests done came back normal.
Who is he talking to?
Subspace hesitates to read further. He doesn’t want to know what happened with Windforce in the days after 2826’s retrieval, so he skips ahead. He needs to be caught up to the present day to find out what they’re doing, anyway. He’s sure they’ll tell him what he’s to do, but it doesn’t hurt to have an idea of what it is beforehand.
He skims through the thirty or so years worth of reports until he hits the few most recent ones, and he pulls them out of the file and peers at the first.
10/04/XX
2826 has been acting out more as of late. He’s becoming increasingly stubborn and argumentative. What does he have to be frustrated about?
10/07/XX
2826 is refusing to cooperate any further. This sudden change is startling. We have always had difficulty getting him to agree to tests, that much is true. But we’ve never had to both chain and sedate him before. It was always just the one.
10/08/XX
2826 is to be ignored for the next few days. Extracting horn fragments and DNA will be moved to a later date. He needs to be ignored so he will quit acting like a child.
Subspace suddenly has a bad feeling about this whole “promotion” thing. He can’t control a damn demigod. He can hardly control his peers.
The more he reads, the more he feels bad for 2826. He’s never felt bad for any subject before; they’re disposable, after all. But knowing this one… knowing 2826 was taken from his mother and used as a test dummy for over thirty years — Subspace can’t feel empathy or sympathy, at least he never could before, but knowing all of the facts now still makes him feel something. How does the demigod have any fight left in him? How can he fight against the researchers if he’s been here this long? What does he have to fight for?
Subspace checks the time again: 6:45. He has to head out. He stuffs the reports back into the file haphazardly and out of order and then throws the file into the bag beside his desk. He can’t leave it out in the open, even if it is his personal lab. This kind of stuff is confidential, if the giant red stamp on the front of the file wasn’t enough to gather that.
He picks the bag up and grabs hold of the identification badge attached to his lanyard, using it to open the door before walking out. He’s walking a bit faster than he has to, but he’s… he doesn’t know, come to think of it.
Eager isn’t the right word. Anxious isn’t, either. He’s never been good at dissecting his emotions. He’s just… he wants to see what’s become of 2826. He’s supposed to be a demigod. Would he look like one? Or would he look like a regular experiment after years of being held in Blackrock? What does a demigod even look like?
He skids to a halt at the checkpoint for the forensics division, guarded by two Biografts. They nod to him, a silent greeting, and he nods back as he steps through the metal detector and uses his keycard to get past the gate. Waiting for him beyond it is another scientist — Flask. One of the select few designated to work with 2826.
Flask looks… tired, to say the least. She has a bandage covering half of her face, and Subspace knows before asking that it’s from 2826.
“Good on you for getting here before seven,” Flask says, motioning for him to follow her. She’s carrying a bag of her own, and she must notice him eyeing it because she speaks again, “everything you need for 2826 is in here. I’m not going in with you.”
“What, is he too much??” Subspace asks, and she shudders.
“You have no idea.”
Subspace doesn’t know what to say in response to that. “Has he always been difficult to work with?”
“A little. He’s been an absolute nightmare as of late, though. We don’t have any leads as to why.”
They get through yet another checkpoint; the one that leads to… a specific division of Blackrock. It doesn’t have a name, but most refer to it as the death division. A majority of the demons brought through the checkpoint don’t make it back out alive.
“Have you done anything differently?”
“Nothing at all.”
Subspace raises an eyebrow.
“ …Maybe we’ve been a bit meaner. We have to be. There’s a lot riding on the recent discoveries.” Flask waves a dismissive hand.
“What discoveries??” Subspace asks. They’re right outside of a door, now. He absently reads the plated numbering in the middle: 2826.
Flask scoffs at the question, and Subspace is afraid she’ll refuse to answer; but she seems to realize that she has to after a few heartbeats. “We’re on the right track to finding out how he spawned. Windforce still has her gear, in case you’re not aware. If we can find a way to copy that… any demon will be able to have a kid without sacrificing theirs.”
Subspace doesn’t see the appeal. Aside from the fact that it’s something only a deity can do, it seems pointless. “Couldn’t you focus on something that would actually benefit Blackrock?”
Flask shoots him a scornful glare. “This will benefit Blackrock. Our strongest soldiers having kids that are directly linked to them is sure to be a plus.”
“I guess, ” Subspace huffs.
Flask drops the bag she was carrying and rifles through it before pulling out a butterfly needle, connected to a tube and a vial, as well as a rubber string. “These are sterile,” she says, dropping them into Subspace’s bag. Next she brings out a couple of small, square disinfectant packets, and drops them into his bag as well.
“What exactly am I doing here??” Subspace finds it unprofessional that she hasn’t even told him.
“I’m getting to that,” she sneers. “You need to take a blood sample. See how he’s been faring since his isolation after he wakes up. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with any of us other researchers right now, but you’re a new face. He’ll be intrigued and possibly won’t attack you.” She talks casually, as if 2826 were an animal in a zoo.
“Wake up?”
Flask grunts and hefts a weird looking but so obviously gun out of the bag before depositing it into Subspace’s arms. “You’ll be needing this.”
“Is that a tranquilizer— dart gun??” Subspace asks as he’s handed the weapon, trying to hide his shock. It looks like one you’d use to poach big game; not to sedate someone. Not that he’s complaining, surely using it will be fun. “Is this necessary?”
“When you see him, trust me. You’ll understand. It’s loaded.” Flask pats his back and opens the door with her keycard before pushing him in. She scoots the bag inside with her foot before the door slides shut.
Subspace bites back a hiss at the suddenness of it, but he pauses when he sees something — him — in the corner. He’s the first thing he takes notice of.
2826 is curled up tightly, facing the wall, but he still manages to look huge even when posing as weak. Flask wasn’t wrong.
Subspace lifts the dart gun up towards him, but… as fun as it looks… maybe it isn’t the best way to go about this. He’s shocked at himself for having such an insane thought — who wouldn’t want to use a tranquilizer gun on another demon while pretending they were game?
Maybe everyone who’s normal. But he’s not that. Still, he drops the gun to the ground and pushes it away. The action causes 2826 to flinch in his corner, and he growls softly as he whips around with his claws flexing — but he doesn’t make a move to advance.
His eyes — four of them — look from Subspace to the discarded gun on the floor, and Subspace kicks the gun farther into the opposite corner just to be sure.
“Hi,” Subspace says, taking in 2826’s appearance. He looks weak yet strong at the same time. Muscles ripple underneath his thin clothes as he moves, his eyes study him cautiously. At least he doesn’t seem aggressive.
“…Hi,” 2826 — the demigod — replies gruffly. ‘2826’ feels too weird. It’s hard for Subspace to call him a number when he’s right in front of him, even though he’d had no trouble doing so with the countless other demons he’d experimented and tested on.
“Uhm.”
Subspace looks around the room, trying to find something to say. They’d been calling it a room all this time, but it’s just a glorified cell; there’s a mattress in the corner, scratch marks all over the walls… even a few worn crayon drawings of the demigod and what looks to be Windforce that he figures are decades old.
“Nice place you got here,” he settles on, cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth. He’s an idiot. No, he’s the smartest demon alive — he just made an idiotic choice.
“…Thanks.” The demigod says flatly.
There’s a bout of awkward silence after that in which the demigod’s gaze flits over to the dart gun several times, and Subspace clears his throat.
“I need to… take some of your blood.”
The silence festers, but the demigod hasn’t jumped him, so Subspace considers himself safe for now. He slowly, pointedly picks up the bag with the objects he needs and takes a cautious step forward.
The demigod flinches, but stays where he is, and Subspace pauses in his advances.
“…Can I?”
Normally, he wouldn’t ask. He doesn’t know why he’s asking. Maybe it was reading so much about him. That’s what did it. That’s why he’s asking.
“Fine.”
Subspace lets out a relieved sigh and steps closer to him, fishing the rubber string out of the bag. “I need to tie this around your forearm.” He says, making a grabbing motion towards the demigod.
The demigod slowly offers up his arm, and Subspace is quick to tie the band around it.
While he waits for his veins to become prominent enough to poke at with the needle, he mulls over his expression. The demigod is trying to look unbothered; but there’s this unmistakable sense of terror that’s had decades to brew. It leaks through his facade in the way his shoulders tremble, in the way his tail is tucked in-between his legs.
The demigod had only been around for a year before being taken. Demons spawn at ten — he was eleven. He’d only had one year of freedom.
Subspace doesn’t feel bad. He can’t feel bad. He pulls out the vial and needle with one hand and the disinfectant wipe in the other, putting the square package up to the demigod’s teeth.
“Tear this for me?” He asks, not demands, and the demigod bites down and rips it open. Some of the disinfectant leaks from the wipe and he cringes, spitting and sputtering, and Subspace has to hold in a snicker. He swipes the damp wipe around his arm over one of the veins that was now popping up, and then readies the needle.
“What— what are you doing,” the demigod says, swallowing hard as he looks down at where Subspace was trying to insert the needle into the vein in his arm.
Subspace looks up at him, blinking once; and only then does it fully sink in on just how tall he is. Just how strong he could be.
He just looks so scared. And Subspace, well, there’s a small inkling of emotion down deep in his heart that he’d rather not unpack. He can’t feel bad for him.
“I’m just taking some of your blood,” he repeats from earlier, humming when the needle finally breaches skin with a soft hiss from the demigod. The blood begins to flow through the tube and into the attached vial, and Subspace notes that his blood is red unlike the deities’ ichor; if not with a vague glow to it. It could just be the lighting.
“Why?” The demigod demands, all four eyes narrowing as his other hand clenches into a fist.
Oh Gods help him. Although, maybe Subspace shouldn’t be praying to those guys, considering Blackrock stole one of their own.
“Samples,” Subspace responds quickly. “The higher-ups want to find out if we can replicate the way you’re spawned.” He slowly pulls the needle out and puts a piece of cotton on the entry point before slapping a bandaid over it. The demigod looks surprised, but he’s even more shocked when Subspace gently takes his hand in his and smooths out his fist, intertwining their fingers together for a swift moment before pulling away. He doesn’t know why he does it; but it did seem to help him calm down, so that’s a plus. He needs to be calm. He can’t attack him if he is.
“…No one’s ever told me why before,” the demigod blurts. Subspace’s eye widens. Maybe he’s said too much.
“…Just felt like you had a right to know.” He responds, but he feels like he’s going to get in trouble for this. They stare at each other for a few heartbeats longer before Subspace coughs and backs up a tiny bit.
“Well, 2826… I need to get going—“
“Please.” The demigod says, voice lowering to a whisper as he glances up to the corner of the room — there’s a camera. “Call me Ban Hammer. It’s what my momma calls me.”
Subspace hesitates. There’s something wrong with that sentence, but he can’t quite figure out what. “Okay. Ban Hammer,” he lowers his voice when he says his name before raising it once again, “I need to go.” He sounds mean, and yes, good. He needs to sound not nice. Maybe not mean. Not nice. He can’t be nice to him.
“Wait.” Ban Hammer grabs onto his arm to stop him from leaving, and he nearly jumps five feet in the air. He’s so strong he could probably gut him easily if his claws weren’t filed down. He can still — throw him against the wall or something. He can do so many things to hurt him if he wanted.
“What??” Subspace yelps out embarrassingly, and Ban Hammer’s eyebrows furrow.
“What’s your name?”
Subspace’s shoulders relax at the question. “Subspace,” he says. He pulls slightly in an attempt to get his arm out of Ban Hammer’s hold, and Ban Hammer allows it.
Subspace takes a few steps back and looks over to the corner where the dart gun was lying on the floor. “Can I… pick that up??”
Again. He doesn’t know why he’s asking.
“…Yes,” Ban Hammer says, stepping back himself. Subspace nods at his answer and walks over with the bag, holding the blood vial in one hand as he lifts the gun and drops it none too gently into the bag. It makes the bag so much heavier, but he hoists it up anyway and puts the straps over his shoulder so it’s easier to carry.
“I’m leaving now.” Subspace says, and Ban Hammer moves. Subspace is wary for a moment, but all he does is amble over to the mattress in the corner and sit down on it.
“Come back soon.” Ban Hammer says simply. He looks… less afraid.
Subspace’s head reels at that as he grabs the vial and walks up to the door. It opens before he has a chance to bang on it, and Flask pulls him out before it shuts again.
“That was a damn stupid thing that you did,” she huffs. “I have no idea why he didn’t attack you.”
“He didn’t look like he needed to be sedated,” Subspace defends as Flask takes the vial.
“He was tired from throwing his tantrum, I’m sure.” Flask sniffs, taking the dart gun out of his bag. She hesitates to take Ban Hammer’s file out, and instead leaves it.
“I don’t know if you’re still on the case after that,” she says coolly, and Subspace doesn’t react. “But I’ll let you keep the file for now.”
Subspace nods, and then turns tail and begins to walk back to his lab without waiting for a dismissal.
After all, he really needs to finish that spreadsheet. And not think about the fact that he’s the only demon aside from Windforce that knows 2826’s true name. That too.