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Subspace walked through the halls of his labs, the soles of his boots making clicking noises each time he took a step. Not the sneakiest, if you asked him. And for some reason, not being sneaky unnerved him; it felt wrong. He decided he’d get a demon to get him quieter shoes.
The green horned phighter was currently making his way to the kitchen of this huge space the higher ups had given him. His labs were basically his house; he ate there, slept there, worked there, and did many other things in them. He’d call it his house but that’d be unprofessional. And anyways, he has a home already. A quaint little apartment in some bustling part of Blackrock. He didn’t go there often, though.
As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed a Biograft was already there. He frowned for a moment at the fact she didn’t look like the others, but he quickly shook it off, justifying her odd look compared to the others as just her wearing a costume. As he knew that some of his Biografts tended to like wearing outfits, for some reason.
Biograft seemed to hear him walk in — really, he needs to get quieter shoes — and waved at him. “Hello.” She said with a Southern accent, stopping what she had been originally doing, which, upon further inspection, was making herself breakfast. Subspace hummed and responded. “Hi.”
The two left it at that, both feeling more comfortable in silence anyway. Subspace walked towards a cupboard and opened it, expecting to find food, but was disappointed when he realised nothing was left. He then turned to face Biograft, who had restarted making herself cereal. “Is that the last of the cereal?” He asked with a small frown.
She paused in her pouring and looked up at him, her expression unreadable as she said. “Affirmative.” Subspace let out a groan; looks like he wouldn’t be eating breakfast. Unless, of course, he got some delivered to his house. He thought about it for a bit before addressing the weird looking Biograft. “Make sure to tell some other Biografts to go get groceries.”
She gave him a hum and then once she was done pouring the milk, she put in the cereal, which made Subspace stare at her. “You have an odd way of making cereal.” He declared, and she just hummed again, not wanting to argue with him and possibly get him mad.
He then walked past her and left the room, deciding that if he couldn’t eat right now he might as well go back to work. No matter how much he was tired of working with his poison. Wait. What? No. He can’t be tired of working with poison, he’s Subspace. Poison is his whole thing!
Something must be wrong with him today. He let out another groan, but this time it sounded more tired than annoyed. Maybe he should get a doctor to check him out. Which would be so much easier if Meddy hadn’t left him. He quickly shooed the thought of the fellow green horned phighter out of his mind; it’d just make him feel worse than he already did.
So Subspace just walked back to his labs, mildly annoyed and hungry. He stomped into his main lab and sat down at a desk, placing his head in his hands. What was wrong with him today? He stayed in that position for a while, before glancing up at blueprints that showed adjustments that could be added to Biograft.
He reached out towards the paper at the top and plucked it from the pile, trying to not make the small stack fall so he wouldn’t have to pick them all up. He brought the blueprint towards him and held it up, examining the notes that were already written on it. Something about fixing Biograft’s phinisher.
Subspace hummed and took a nearby pencil as he started doodling more stuff onto the plans. If he didn’t feel like working on making his poison more lethal, he could at least make his killer robots more dangerous. And this was also a good distraction to the gut feeling that was telling him that this is all wrong. Because he is Subspace T. Mine, and he always has been. So shut up, gut feeling. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
This is how things are supposed to be.
Right?