Work Text:
Subspace gazed out the window lazily as sand whizzed past.
As far as the eye could see, endless desert, maybe one squint hard enough you might’ve seen one or two run-down towns past the sand dunes. The sun beated brutally over the terrain.
Subspace was sweating. The air-conditioning was awful, the heat was grueling.
The road was bumpy, jerking the bus every which way. His bag on the floor smacked against his leg. The roads in these parts of Lost Temple were mostly unmanaged highways since, apparently, no demon ever had that many reasons to travel where the bus was going. Nobody lives there and the tourism there, contrastingly, doesn't exist. And that's definitely evident seeing how it was only Subspace and two other people on this bus. One of them was snoring and the other was reading a newspaper, muttering to himself.
Why this route on an outdated, decades-old bus to a desolate region of Lost Temple exists, Subspace did not know. Thank gods it was still in service though.
Taking the train there was too risky. Way too many people, migrants, using it. Terrible idea. That's how he'd get himself fileted. Anybody from Blackrock was going to recognize him.
Subspace pursed his lips under his mask, irritated.
The other two in the bus didn't look like they were from Blackrock, as far as he knew. The bus driver too, smoking a cigar, whistling country tunes to himself. All three of them wore dusty brown attire and hats. He’d stolen a plain white shirt, brown overcoat, and baggy pants from a shop a few hours ago. He had to ditch the gas mask and eyepatch for a plain, paper mask and bandages. He blended in enough, he even rolled around in the sand like a pig in mud for the authentic look. Nobody would be none the wiser, certainly.
Oh, how he wished he didn't have to do any of this shit though. Life was gonna be miserable wherever he went.
If only he'd be able to fucking face all of that shit in Blackrock. He'd fix it. Like he always does. Everything will be under control. He's not pathetic, he's not weak, he's not a coward.
But if he wasn't one then why was he all the way out here at all? Why was he running for his life?
No. Nope. He's not running. Because there's nothing to run from. There's nothing to be scared of. He made them. He knows everything about them. How they're built, how to fix them, how to get them off his tail.
He just needs to be further out to think clearly.
He can't think straight with the anarchy. Yep.
The bus slowly came to a stop. There were bus stops scattered along the roadway but they hadn't stopped at any for a while now. Well, now they were. The door creaked open, and quiet footsteps followed.
Subspace vaguely saw the shape of a man with a white hat tilted down the back of his head, holding a dark teal suitcase and newspaper in one hand. His eyes drifted to the demon's horns.
…Church of the Lost Eye Teal.
One of the passengers lifted his face to examine the man boarding. He narrowed his eyes with scrutiny, annoyed. He buried himself back into his paper.
The boarding demon handed the driver cash.
His voice was faint but the entire bus was equally as quiet besides the engine outside, “Keep the change.”
The man's heeled boots clacked against the walkway as he wearily walked towards the back of the bus. Subspace glanced up at him, and their eyes met for a brief second. He didn't have a glass eye unlike the members of that dreaded cult , he had bandages over it instead, but he still had that same unnerving aura to him. He sat in the seat behind Subspace, placing his suitcase against his side.
Subspace sighed breathily, running his hand down his damaged arm.
Not that the Church was a great concern to him. More like they’re a disturbance, they’ve just been a lot more fervent with pedaling their teachings to Lost Temple and, now, Thieves’ Den. But what business would one of their own have with traveling further away from the major population centers?
Subspace turned his head to the window again. He could see the other man's reflection in the glass as he also leaned tiredly against the window. The man rubbed his eye, sinking into his chair.
The bus still had quite the journey left to the final destination. That's when Subspace would actually make a move. For now, all he can do is think and plan and wait.
His head perked up at the sound of the clinking metal, a lighter. Subspace peered the reflection on the window again. The man held a cigarette pack in a gloved hand, one of the cigarettes was pulled up from the bundle. He pulled it from the package with his mouth, flicking the spark wheel of his lighter near one of the cigarettes. The smell of tobacco started wafting through the air. The man held the cigarette between two fingers with the lighter clutched by the rest of his hand. He briefly took it from his mouth, exhaling the smoke into the aisle.
The man went on for another five minutes.
Subspace pushed his mask more up against his nose, agitated by the stinging smoke.
The man noticed Subspace staring fixedly at him through the reflection, “...”
He finally decided to pipe up, “Do you mind?!” Subspace hissed through a whisper.
“...Apologies,” he mumbled after taking another puff. He pinched the bud of the cigarette, rubbing his fingers together until the embers were snuffed out. He dropped the charred cig to the ground, stomping on it with his shoe for good measure.
The lighter slipped from his hand as he attempted to tuck it back into his pocket.
Subspace jolted. His head tilted down to the floor in front of him, more exhausted. The silver lighter lingered near the back of his heel under his seat. Subspace lowered his shoulders, folding over and picking it up. He sat up, examining its polished exterior upclose. He swiveled around, reaching over the seat and holding the lighter up to the man.
He took it after a moment, “Yes, thank you…”
Subspace crossed his arms impatiently, reclining into his chair. Annoyingly long bus route. He’d been sitting there for 45 minutes so far. Maybe around 30 minutes left until the last stop? Subspace gazed out the window again. The scenery barely looked any different than ten minutes ago, rolling sand dunes, sparse cactuses and desert grass, a town or two in the far, far background.
His head perked up again at the sound of more footsteps lingering near his seat.
A gentle hand tapped his shoulder, “Can I?”
Subspace turned his head, pushing his mask back up against his face. The man was standing in the aisle again, holding the back of Subspace’s seat to keep himself from jostling too much with the bus. He had his briefcase in his other hand. He wore a light brown suit-blazer over white dress shirt with a teal tie around his neck, teal-checkered pants, and light brown leather boots.
Subspace narrowed his eye, nodding curtly, “Do whatever.”
The man sat next to him, holding his briefcase between his feet. Subspace quickly turned away.
“Medkit,” he quietly blurted.
Subspace turned back to him, “Huh?”
“Name’s Medkit,” he repeated.
“...Tripmine,” he muttered, “Did you want something?”
“Just somebody to talk to, I suppose,” Medkit sighed, “Life’s rough out here, ha-ha…”
Subspace tutted, “Well, I’m certainly not the best demon for that.”
“I’ve seen my fair share of freakshows anyway.”
Subspace wasn’t necessarily surprised, he’s part of the Church. Gods know what shit goes down there.
“Where are you headed to?” Medkit asked, “Nobody ever comes to this wasteland.”
“I think I should be asking you that.”
“I’m heading into said wasteland.”
“And you just said nobody ever goes here.”
“Unless they want to get away from something, that is…” Medkit whispered.
Subspace raised his eyebrow in suspicion, “What are you suggesting?”
“It’s a mess out there,” Medkit laughed coldly, “Who wouldn’t want to just get away? Even if it’s settling in the middle of nowhere.”
“Couldn’t agree more…” Subspace muttered.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Medkit suddenly questioned.
A bolt suddenly shot down Subspace’s spine, “One of… One of who?”
“The migrants. The ones fleeing from Playground or Blackrock or Thieves’ Den or maybe Lost Temple.”
Subspace grew defensive, “What business is mine to yours?! You’re also one of them. ” He gestured to Medkit’s teal-checkered pants.
“We’re no different, I suppose. And I was due for an outfit change…” Medkit sighed, “I left that crackhouse of a family, church, cult, whatever you people call it now. Spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“Well, I’m no migrant!!” Subspace corrected, “I live… I live out here too!!”
“I mean, you are wearing clothes from the cities, everyone out here tends to craft their own clothes,” Medkit said, “No masks either. We’re used to the sand lingering in the air.”
Subspace shriveled up into his seat.
“It’s alright, nobody could hold it against you to leave wherever you’re from,” Medkit reassured, “I know Playground government’s up in flames, one of the convict-gang sects are apparently invading the capital. And the bloodshed happens in broad daylight now, no wonder most of the migrants are from Playground. Banland is gone for obvious reasons too.”
“Playground?! Hell no, anything but that hellhole!!” Subspace hissed.
“...So Blackrock.”
Subspace went stone-faced.
“Your tone says it all, sorry…” Medkit apologized, lowering his head, “Also alright, shit’s rough in Blackrock too.”
“Oh, please, what does a Templan know about Blackrock!? Foolish!!” Subspace laughed irritatedly.
“I’ve been studying the chaos going down in the other factions as well…” Medkit sighed, “It’s a wonder you’re alive. Don’t take it for granted.”
That sent another chill down Subspace’s spine, “Y-You’re probably just trying to pitch your dumb ‘family’ to me, aren’t you!? My answer’s no, buddy!!”
“I’m… not. I’d rather worship in my own way, by myself, somewhere quieter. The Family has devolved since my parents joined back then, they’re more-or-less more hostile, corrupted.”
“You don’t say?!” Subspace snickered, “It’s like the Crossroads Revolution out there!! They’re swarming the streets like bees, and then they’re going around gouging people's eyes out, hanging people, decapitating adversaries, the works!! Nobody wants to live there either.”
Medkit shrugged, “It’s a matter of choosing your own poison, some of the migrants are fine living here over the endless crime plaguing Playground.”
“I don’t know, maybe Thieves’ Den might’ve been nice too!! I just didn’t decide because I was assuming it’d be overcrowded or whatever.”
“The warming there is pretty awful, it’s as bad as around here, if not worse,” Medkit explained, “Forest fires wherever you go, food shortages ‘cause of it, lack of resources, water pollution and lack of it, people dying from heat stroke.”
“Oh, wow, amazing!! The Inpherno’s really ending itself around us, huh?!” Subspace commented dismissively.
“You… only come to that conclusion now?”
Subspace stared blankly at him, “...”
“Well, I would’ve moved to Crossroads but… it’s out of the picture because of the wealth inequality uprisings. I’d probably be on a guillotine if I stepped foot there,” Medkit sighed, “It’s a shame. I had family there too, but I can’t really contact them. Odds are they’re gone. Same with Blackrock, you know… with the Bi-”
“DON’T worry about Blackrock, there’s nothing wrong there!!” Subspace defended, “Just a minor slip up!! Andthosealwaysgetresolved!!”
“What?”
Subspace began to sweat profusely, “Nothing, nothing!!”
“I don’t live there, and I never have but I hope I’m not on the chopping block too because of my family tree. That would be the worst case scenario,” Medkit continued awkwardly, “I don’t doubt that there’s more for both of us to worry about. You know never know what’ll happen around here.”
Medkit readjusted his hat, pushing it back in place down the back of his head.
“Were you injured on your way here, Tripmine?” Medkit asked, eyeing the bandages on his face.
“Uh huh…” Subspace conceded, “Work accident.”
“Work accident? You work for Blackrock Corp?”
“ Shit- ” Subspace hissed under his breath, “Not for anything having to do with the Robotics Division if that’s what you’re thinking!!”
“I wasn’t thinking that! I was genuinely curious,” Medkit maintained, “I thought you all died on the same day. The death count was staggering , perhaps, there were a few stragglers after all…”
Subspace rolled his eye, “Even if something went down, I wouldn’t go down without a figh-!!”
The bus roughly jerked up.
“...I think that was a corpse or, probably, multiple,” Medkit commented.
Subspace raised his eyebrow.
“That's close to how it feels to drive over a body,” Medkit elaborated, “And there's no chance to find roadkill around here large enough to shake a whole bus…”
“You think a couple of fools walked this far out just to drop dead on the road?!”
Medkit shrugged.
They sat in silence for a while again.
Medkit had taken out the newspaper he'd been holding earlier, quietly reading.
“Subspace… Subspace T. Mine,” Medkit mumbled.
Subspace held a poker face, sweating more in the back of his head, “...”
“Apparently, Blackrock’s Head of the Robotics Division is missing-in-action instead, not dead… At least that’s what investigations are suggesting,” Medkit commented, “That’s just more astonishing. Have you heard?”
“How so?” Subspace asked with faux surprise.
Medkit’s expression became sullen, “His body’s nowhere to be found, the other Division Heads’ bodies were discovered but, somehow, not the one who oversaw Blackrock’s entire debacle. I would’ve thought he would’ve been out like a light first.”
“Those Biografts probably hid the body, don’t you think?! Or maybe it’s just laying dead in a ditch!!”
“Why would they? I don’t really see why they would,” Medkit said, “Unless they wanted to frame it as Subspace unleashing chaos over Blackrock on purpose then fleeing to escape consequences.”
“...”
That is NOT how the story went.
Subspace waved his hand dismissively, “Nono, he’s definitely dead!! They’re just incompetent fools who can’t recognize a particularly mangled corpse.”
Medkit continued reading the article, “It’s quite unfortunate Blackrock suffered a bad fate like the other factions. Everything was fine there until… that Biograft uprising. How could something like that even happen? They’re robots.”
Subspace shrugged, “Don’t ask me, that wasn’t ever my problem!! If anything, that’s everyone in that department’s fault. Incompetence, lack of proper oversight or testing or whatever the hell.”
“That certainly didn’t need to happen though. The events in Lost Temple were uncontrollable, the same can be somewhat applied to Thieves’ Den and Playground but Blackrock? I would’ve thought the faction leaders would’ve been wiser than this.”
“They definitely are!! It’s just… We’re not all stupid!! It was probably just some accident!!”
“Well, there isn’t any way I could know or anybody could know which scientist or scientists opened up the Pandora's box that unleashed sentient Biografts all over the region. Unless investigators checked the company’s systems or something but gods know, there’s no way anybody’s accessing that without being cut in half,” Medkit conceded, “What a moronic accident that is though. I don’t know what they were expecting by implementing something like that.”
Subspace felt himself shrinking into the chair again.
“Can an entire faction even go extinct? Blackrock is the most heavily populated region besides Playground… And said entire faction is being hunted down by manufactured machines designed specifically for killing . Like I said, it’s a miracle you escaped alive.”
“I don’t even know how but they can recognize if a demon’s from Blackrock or not on sight,” Subspace muttered to himself.
Actually he does know. He just doesn’t want to admit he added that too. The database of every Blackrock resident to the Biografts’ memory bank. It was supposed to be a failsafe so that they didn’t start attacking Blackrockians.
Failsafe. Ironic as shit.
“I guess I’m just in the mood for theorizing,” Medkit admitted, “I’ve been thinking about those things too, I only get the chance to dump out these things now, apologies.”
“...”
“Anyway, what do you think is the reason the Biografts went rogue as soon as they got a taste of… higher-thinking? At least, that’s what the news has been saying about the Blackrock Corp Robotics Disaster.”
“Their programming is dysfunctional,” Subspace said frankly, “They’re all programmed to either protect Blackrock or carry out missions that involve killing in mass, they were supposed to be hardwired to follow those orders. I guess they decided to kill all of us instead when their AI was upgraded. As for what reason they did that? I don’t fucking know. Maybe, they just got sick of being ordered around and turned on us. Maybe, they just learned how to disobey their base coding using the upgraded AI.”
“So, they did gain consciousness?”
“Consciousness might be a stretch,” Subspace grumbled, “They can just disobey orders now. And they’re choosing to actively do that. And whether or not they have thoughts and minds of their own now is beyond me. If anything, they’re probably still machine learning from the environments and sharing the experience data with each other over their cloud systems.”
They have the ability to communicate with each other and share data with one another over large distances but that was for usage in missions or spreading orders around.
“Hm…”
“ Somebody’s gonna have to debug them, anyway… Otherwise, the problem’s never getting fixed!!”
“How do you suppose anybody could realistically do that though? It feels more like you’d have to reprogram every single Biograft since they’ll just keep sharing information with each other. They’re gonna hold onto the erroneous code if it’s not washed out of every Biograft’s system, correct?”
Subspace’s shoulders slumped, “W-Well, it’s not something of my expertise!! I know nothing else!!”
“You’re quite well-versed on this…”
“You gotta know the enemy to fight back against it!! That’s all it is.”
Medkit nodded in agreement, “You intend to fight back?”
“...Y-Yeah!! Of course I would!!”
“Why come here then? We’re moving the opposite direction of Blackrock.”
Subspace held his finger up, “...Err, well…”
The memory flashed through the back of his mind.
He’d been working on one of the modified Biografts, repairing, conducting tests, he was the only one there. And it lashed out. Transferred its damn code to its buddies, apparently. Now they’re all very much not brainless machines. And they’re out for blood.
And he wasn’t supposed to have made it out of that alive. He was the only one working on the Biografts, he was the only one with the expertise to add something so volatile to them and the only one who can clean up his own disaster... Instead, here he is, hiding from the accident, his accident .
…
His accident.
Medkit furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, “Tripmine… What do you actually plan to do once you arrive wherever you decide to stay?”
“...V-Variety of things… Planning firstly. I can’t… p-plan when there’s Biografts on my tail anyway!!”
“Hey, if you’re looking to solve the problems going on in one faction, I am all for it but…” Medkit admitted, “Do you have a place to stay or…? You’re not intending to stay out here, are you? I can’t imagine it’s easy to adjust from the freezing cold to the blistering heat out in the desert.”
“I'll do whatever!! I would’ve been planning right now had you not-!!”
“I was just asking… I'm staying at my cousin's home. He lived in the area.”
Subspace head perked up, “Who is he ?”
“Not anybody notable. He left like I did a few months ago, he wasn't impressed with the direction the Family was going,” Medkit answered, “Actually, he's not very alive either. Died for the same reason I might, the Family's very aggressive with traitors.”
“And you think I wanna be on that list?!”
“As if I'd let them lay a hand on either of us,” Medkit whispered, “I think they’d know better than to hunt another hunter down. We’d recognize each other on sight.”
Subspace stared at him, dumbfounded, “Huh?”
“You did just speak of your situation, you should know more about mine,” Medkit sighed, before speaking quietly again, “I was a priest for several years and the pay was mediocre. The Family offered me another position, commissioned work. They have an army of bounty hunters, gets rid of adversaries, traitors, people of interest, etcetera. I had past experience with sharpshooting so they came to me with the offer.”
“...”
“I needed the money. It's not cheap to live in Lost Temple. But the work was rough. Had to kill my sister for one bounty list, I think she got accused of being a heretic. My commitment went downhill after that,” Medkit's eye was fixated on his shoe, “She was a fighter though, she gouged one of my eyes out during the confrontation. I deserved that. I can’t help but think about it now. And now, I'm quitting for her. Atone for my sins, perhaps.”
Subspace didn’t know what to say to that, “...Oh.”
“It’s alright if you don’t understand, from what I know, Blackrock scientists live in comfort.”
“Well, t-that’s a hasty generalization!!” Subspace stammered, “It’s definitely not all sunshine and rainbows for the lower-ranked workers, such as… myself!! Studies and reports and experimentation and whatnot!! Lots for us to do!!”
That lie hurts to say.
“It’s certainly not now with Biografts hunting you all to extinction, but I can see the division leaders living cushy lives. They can do basically whatever they want,” Medkit agreed, “Anyway, I think I’ll be relatively okay, I don’t think they figured out that I booked it yet. Though, I know
they’ll plan some way to get rid of me for defecting, and it won’t be conventional.”
“...”
“...I-I apologize for dumping this on you if you didn’t want to hear it.”
“It’s fine. ”
Medkit leaned forward, “...”
“I’ll… consider taking you up on your offer though… what was your… uh…”
“Medkit.”
“Y-Yeah!! Medkit. Medkit.”
Medkit put his newspaper aside, “I’ve had enough of reading this, there’s nothing ever good said on it anymore.”
Subspace stared out the window again, fumbling for something else to stay, “P-People really live out here?!”
“The ones who don’t enjoy Lost Temple’s cities do,” Medkit replied, “As vast as Lost Temple is, during ancient times, the people started concentrating around the oasis near the northeast of the region, towards the mountain range. It was just more convenient for them, on top of easier trade with Blackrock.”
Subspace narrowed his eye to a random stray plant, “...”
“There are nice places out here too, in the sparse towns. None of the rich linger around here so the locals are generally friendly. And self-sufficient.”
“Wooow, you sure know so much about this place,” Subspace grumbled sarcastically.
“I lived here for a while, and was the pastor of a Church for the family. Though, it got destroyed by a sandstorm a year or two ago,” Medkit said, “I’m not planning to brag about my past affiliation with the Family with the locals, I don’t think they would appreciate me discussing it. Especially with the worsening reputation of the Family.”
The bus suddenly screeched to a stop. Subspace turned to look out the other side’s windows, where another bus stop was. Nobody seemed to be down there. There were a couple of rustic houses scattered around now, they must’ve been in some sort of loosely constructed town. One of the other demons disembarked and began walking down the cracking sidewalk.
They quickly began to move again.
“I believe we’re almost at the final stop,” Medkit nodded, “If you’re planning to follow me, we’ll have a walk a bit out to the outskirts of this place. I’ll have to hide out for now, unfortunately.”
Subspace pursed his lips into a frown, “I guess I will.”
Medkit smiled softly at that, “That’s nice then… It’s been a while since I’ve had proper company. I’ll have something fixed-up for you once we arrive.”
“Still temporary, I have other things to do!!” Subspace insisted, “I’m not planning to hide in some rando Templan’s house for the rest of my life.”
“You won’t have to.”
Subspace rolled his eye, “Uh huh…”
The bus soon pulled into a warehouse-like structure, dimly lit with pathways leading outward and benches where the sidewalk would be. The last demon on the bus jolted awake and shuffled out a moment no later. Medkit collected his suitcase and newspaper in one hand, pulling himself up and into the aisleway.
He extended his other hand to Subspace, “Shall we go, Tripmine?”
Subspace hoisted his backpack from the floor and onto his shoulder before taking Medkit’s hand. Medkit led him out of the bus and onto the concrete walkways outside.
They began to walk out of the structure. Subspace was fumbling with his overcoat to keep it from draping off his injured arm.
“Normally, this would be one of Lost Temple’s bus terminals but it’s poorly constructed, probably built by locals when the bus system was extended out here. The ones in the cities are the grandiose ones the faction’s known for,” Medkit pointed out.
Subspace shuddered when the bright sun cast its harsh rays on him again. He shielded his face with one hand uncomfortably. Medkit picked up the pace and Subspace tagged along apprehensively.
Medkit led him down several series of messily constructed streets, sidewalks, and passageways between wooden houses. It was still hot , scorching hot . The shaded portions of the route provided little relief to Subspace’s intense sweat dripping down his face. He couldn’t remove the coat, his injuries were apparent without it on. It wasn’t exactly noon though, he’d left on the bus around 5. Sunset was sure to start soon, deserts are supposed to get colder at nightfall.
The sidewalk ended eventually. They were walking in the straight sand now.
Subspace hesitantly trudged through the sand, staring at the ground while gingerly trying to keep the sand from inevitably slipping into his shoes.
He’d been so focused on exactly that he didn’t notice how far they were receding from the town.
And he didn’t notice when Medkit abruptly stopped in his tracks.
Subspace leapt back immediately when his foot kicked into a short cactus. He clutched his foot, hissing as if he’d actually just got pricked by spikes, “AGH!! Dammit!!” A few spikes were stabbed into the rubber of his shoes but they didn’t actually pierce anything in his foot. Subspace paused, attempted to shake the spines off.
Subspace raised his head again when he heard Medkit’s briefcase slip from his hand onto the ground.
“What’s the hold up?!” Subspace barked, looking around, “Where the hell are we going? There’s nothing around here!!”
Medkit got down on one knee, reaching towards…
A leather holster on his bel-?
And then there was black revolver in his hand. Finger over the trigger. Barrel directly pointed at forehead.
Medkit stared fixated at him, detached, apathetic.
Subspace was in stunned silence, staring back in horror. He held his hands up.
“Go on. Say something,” Medkit beckoned.
Subspace mouth opened itself but only hitched breaths huffed from his mouth.
“How did you not bleed out before you even got out of Blackrock? I heard they slashed you quite a bit, even took out one of your eyes while they were at it. Reminds me of a particular event,” Medkit maintained the same empty expression, “You deserve a last word or two for making it this far. Quite the feat, in my opinion. I think I told you that already, Subspace.”
“YOU CAN’T JUST KILL ME!!” Subspace blurted out, “I-I-I DIDN’T DO SHIT TO YOUR CULT!! I’M NOT ASSOCIATED WITH ANY OF YOU!! I’M NOT!! ”
“This isn’t about the Church of the Lost Eye,” Medkit stated, “In fact, disregard the Church. I wasn’t lying about it entirely but the timeline is different from what I made it out to be. That’s all shit from the far past.”
Subspace shuddered, “B-BUT I-”
“For a Division Head who had the knowledge to modify demons in mass without killing every single one, you sure don’t understand the concept of not trusting people immediately, do you? You’re a fool. Ignorant and a fool.”
“W-Who the hell are you?!”
“Do you happen to remember when you were developing cybernetic soldiers for Blackrock?” Medkit asked, “You used Blackrock prisoners for those. Around a decade ago. The experiments you decided to hold in limbo for the Biograft Project instead. Does that ring a bell?”
“...Shit.”
Medkit removed his hat and scarf, letting them slip to the ground, wires were poking out of the back of his head and there were visible metal plates around his neck, “You couldn’t be bothered to keep track of us, did you? You couldn’t even recognize my face. I thought you would’ve recognized me immediately.”
“That’s i-impossible!! YOU WERE ALL SUPPOSED TO BE EXECUTED AND SCRAPPED!!”
“Your higher-ups kept us in storage,” Medkit said, before tilting his head, “Your little rogue Biografts let us out after they took over Blackrock Corp. You could say we want the same as them, if not more, because we know whose fault this all is. Both for all of the suffering that you reveled in all these years and for bringing about the end of Blackrock itself. Now, we want a certain creator to atone for his sins.”
Subspace took one step back, hands still raised. Medkit took one forward.
“Death is too much of a privilege for someone like you.”
“...”
“Did you really think you could escape consequences, Subspace?”
Subspace gritted his teeth. Shame washed over him like a tsunami.
“You know… I can still remember every single shred of agony you put me through. I would’ve thought you’d learn your lesson about giving your creations free will after one of your modified freaks attacked you. The incident that forced you to toss us out like broken toys.”
“In fact, I can also still remember when you scooped out some of my organs, my muscles, bones, arbitrarily replaced them with metal. And my eye. Well, albeit a glass one,” Medkit tore the bandages from the side of his head, revealing more metal machinery and an eye that resembled a scope more than anything biological, “And it’s funny knowing you didn’t care enough to remember my fucking face. And even after I was the one who primarily catered to you. I was just that unassuming to you back then and now, aren’t I?” Medkit chided, “It’s a coincidence that we met, I wasn’t anticipating this. I was coming out here to find the rest of you Blackrockians crawling away like cockroaches.”
Subspace quickly manifested his gear into his hands, throwing a tripmine forward. Medkit blocked it with his arm with a metallic clang , before swinging his other hand forward and shooting twice.
Subspace’s legs buckled. He collapsed. Blood seeped from his lower legs into the sand. He hissed in pain, his gear slipping from his hand.
Medkit bent down to retrieve his briefcase. He stomped up to him, kicking Subspace’s gear away before holding his foot against the side of Subspace’s head. He forced Subspace’s head up to look at him with the tip of his boot.
“Let me remind you of one last thing, Mr. Tripmine,” Medkit vaunted, “It wasn’t a pleasure to work with you. Goodnight.”
Medkit swung the briefcase up before hitting Subspace over the head with it.
He was out cold. Limp.
Medkit held his fingers against the side of his head, tapping his foot impatiently while staring down at Subspace.
A beep rang out from his ear.
“HELLO, L.T. SUBJECT #6. STATE YOUR REQUEST.”
“I know I was out for another mission but I think I just made it worth your while,” Medkit mumbled, “Found Creator. He was still alive after all. Request to take him back to the Capital Lab? Is Betagraft #1 there?”
“CORRECT. RETURN HIM. I WILL CONTACT BETAGRAFT #1 IMMEDIATELY.”
How unfortunate for Subspace.
There truly is nowhere to run for a callous individual in a world equally as callous as him.