Chapter Text
The spawn stirred, his mind clouded and heavy, like waking from a dream that refused to fade. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the strange, glowing world around him. Who was he? What was he?
His gaze dropped to his hands, where an object rested. It was compact, sleek, and glittering—a subspace tripmine. The mine shimmered with an almost ethereal glow, its pink, sparkly surface catching the light in mesmerizing waves.
A giggle bubbled out of him, light and joyous, breaking the stillness of the snowy clearing. He clutched the mine to his chest as though it were a treasure beyond value, the sparkles reflecting in his wide, gleaming eyes. His small feet wriggled eagerly against the snow, kicking up tiny flurries that glittered like stars in the faint light.
The cold didn’t seem to bother him; if anything, it only added to his delight. He let out another soft laugh, the sound pure and bright, his breath puffing into little clouds that disappeared into the frosty air. The spawn’s presence was unguarded and innocent, radiating a sense of unspoiled wonder.
“Great, another spa—” A voice cut through the serene moment, sharp and cold. The figure that approached stopped abruptly, their gaze locking onto the tiny spawn. Their eyes narrowed, analyzing the scene, their lips curling into a faint smirk. “Hm. You could be... quite useful.”
The figure’s tone shifted, their mutter just barely audible as they leaned down. Without hesitation, they scooped the spawn up. The mine slipped slightly in his grasp as he flailed, his small arms tightening around it instinctively.
Subspace cried out, a high-pitched, distressed sound, tears brimming in his eyes. His tiny fists struck out weakly, but his protests were little more than a nuisance. He squirmed in their grasp, trembling as he clung to his glittering treasure.
“Quiet down, little one,” the figure murmured, their voice soft but strange, carrying an edge of unfamiliarity. Their hand rested on the back of the spawn’s head, stroking gently, as though they were trying to soothe a wild animal. “There’s no need for tears. You’re safe with me.”
The spawn hiccuped, his cries quieting to faint whimpers, though his small frame still trembled with unease. His wide, teary eyes looked up at the figure, searching for something he didn’t yet have a name for: comfort, security, belonging. In his tiny hands, the glittering pink mine remained tightly clutched, his only tangible anchor in this confusing, cold world.
The figure sighed, adjusting their grip on the spawn as a sharp gust of wind carried a chill through the air. “Tch,” they muttered under their breath, glancing at the fragile little being in their arms. He was shivering, his small body barely protected from the biting cold. At first, the figure considered leaving him as he was; after all, this wasn’t supposed to be an act of kindness. They had picked him up for one reason: potential. The power of the spawn’s gear was undeniable, and there was an intelligence in those gleaming, tear-filled eyes that could be honed into something useful.
But the spawn whimpered again, clutching his mine tighter, his feet kicking weakly against the air, and something inside the figure hesitated. For a moment, they simply stood there, staring down at the fragile life in their grasp.
With a reluctant sigh, they reached into their pack, pulling out a worn, oversized jacket. It wasn’t much, but it would keep the spawn from freezing. They draped it over him, the heavy fabric engulfing his tiny frame. The spawn blinked, his sniffles softening as he peered up at the figure with wide, curious eyes. He wriggled slightly, his small fingers clutching the jacket’s edges, testing its warmth.
“There,” the figure muttered gruffly, as though trying to downplay the gesture. “Better.”
As they turned to leave the clearing, the spawn snuggled closer against them, his small, cold hands clutching at their sleeve. He giggled softly, the sound light and sweet, like the first glimmer of warmth in a frozen landscape. The figure’s brow furrowed as they glanced down at him, something unfamiliar stirring in their chest.
The spawn stirred, his small body adjusting unconsciously in the figure's arms as they trekked through the biting wind and heavy snow. His earlier tears had dried, leaving his chubby cheeks flushed from the cold. The oversized jacket wrapped snugly around him, engulfing him like a cocoon, offered some protection from the elements, but the figure’s own body heat was what truly kept him warm.
Each step the figure took was methodical, boots crunching against the icy terrain. They kept their gaze fixed ahead, the distant silhouette of Blackrock's facility barely visible through the swirling snowstorm. Yet, no matter how much they tried to focus on the task at hand—getting this spawn to where he could be evaluated and put to use—the spawn’s soft murmurs and occasional squirms pulled their attention away.
The small being in their arms was endlessly curious, and even now, as the snowstorm howled around them, he clutched his glittering subspace tripmine and held it up to inspect its sparkle in the faint light. He giggled softly, the sound muffled by the fabric of the jacket, and snuggled closer to the figure’s chest.
The spawn's tiny voice broke through the muted howl of the storm, a bright and unbothered sound against the bleak surroundings. "Looky..." he mumbled, his words slow and slurred with sleepiness, yet filled with excitement. His small hand emerged from the cocoon of the oversized jacket, holding the glittering subspace tripmine aloft as if showing it to the world. "Looky!!" he repeated, louder this time, his tone almost triumphant.
The figure glanced down briefly, their sharp gaze landing on the mine. Its ethereal pink glow pulsed faintly, casting a soft light that reflected in the spawn's wide, fascinated eyes. Despite themselves, the figure's lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, I see it," they muttered, their tone dry but not entirely devoid of warmth. "It's shiny. Good for you."
But the spawn wasn’t deterred by the lackluster response. He giggled softly, delighted by the way the mine caught the dim light and sparkled like something out of a dream. His enthusiasm was boundless, unburdened by the storm or the cold or the distant facility looming ahead.
“Pretty!” he declared, snuggling closer against the figure’s chest, the mine still held aloft as though it were the most precious thing in existence. His small feet wriggled beneath the oversized jacket, kicking faintly in an absent rhythm.
The figure sighed, their breath visible in the frigid air. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you little menace,” they muttered, their voice low and almost affectionate despite their words. They adjusted their grip on the spawn, ensuring he was secure as they resumed their march toward Blackrock. "Pretty won't save you if you lose it, though. So hang onto it, genius."
The spawn nodded solemnly, as if the figure’s words carried the weight of divine wisdom. He clutched the mine tighter, his giggle softening into a contented hum as he rested his head back against their chest. “Tank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible but carrying a sincerity that caught the figure off guard.
The trek had felt endless, the wind biting at their face and the snow piling higher with every step, but at long last, the towering silhouette of Blackrock's largest facility loomed in the distance. The figure, with the spawn still nestled securely in their arms, trudged forward through the thickening snow, the promise of shelter just beyond reach.
As they approached the entrance, the imposing steel gates of Blackrock slowly slid open, the massive facility alive with the hum of machinery and the faint buzz of energy coursing through its walls. The figure's steps slowed, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground as they entered the warm, dimly lit corridor of the complex. The sharp contrast between the cold outside and the sterile warmth of the facility was immediate, and the figure sighed in relief as the chill finally began to fade from their bones.
The spawn stirred again, blinking sleepily in the quiet of the hallway. He shifted slightly in the figure’s arms, his small face still flushed from the cold. The oversized jacket hung loosely around him, but he seemed perfectly content, the glittering mine still clutched tightly in his hands. He murmured something unintelligible, but the tone was peaceful, untroubled. For a moment, it was as though nothing in the world mattered except the comfort of being held.
“Wook... Dada,” the spawn mumbled, his voice barely more than a soft whimper.
The figure’s gaze flickered down, but they said nothing, their mouth tightening slightly in a mix of frustration and something else—something they couldn’t quite place. They could feel the spawn’s tiny heartbeat against their chest, steady and warm, and for reasons they couldn't explain, it unsettled them in a way they didn’t like. They hadn’t signed up for this attachment, this softness. They had come here to retrieve something—usefulness, potential—but somewhere along the way, the spawn had wormed his way into their thoughts.
With a muttered curse, they adjusted the spawn's position, making their way deeper into the facility. The lights overhead buzzed with energy as they passed rows of machines, gears, and glass-walled chambers filled with all manner of experiments. Blackrock was a place of calculated coldness, efficiency, and ruthless purpose, and it was here that the figure hoped to find the answers—or perhaps the leverage—they needed. They had no room for distractions. No room for... this.
But as they continued down the sterile hallway, the figure couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—some invisible weight that now pressed against them. The spawn’s innocent gaze, so trusting and unguarded, somehow felt heavier than it should. It didn’t make sense, but it was there, hanging in the air between them like a soft tension.
They reached a large steel door, marked with a series of cryptic numbers and symbols. The figure paused for a moment, then typed in a code, the lights on the keypad flashing green as the door slid open with a hiss of compressed air. Inside, the facility’s main research labs stretched out before them, filled with rows of high-tech equipment and observation stations.
The room fell silent as they entered, the hum of machines and the soft clicking of computer keys the only sound. Several scientists, clad in dark uniforms, glanced up from their work, their expressions neutral as they registered the figure's arrival.
"Is the subject ready for evaluation?" one of the scientists asked, their tone businesslike.
The figure shifted, their gaze narrowing as they looked down at the spawn in their arms, still half-dazed from sleep but now blinking at the sterile environment with curious eyes. “Yeah. Get ready for him,” they muttered, lowering the spawn to a waiting examination table. The tiny being barely noticed, his attention still focused on the glittering mine he clutched against his chest.
“Dada,” the spawn said again, his voice soft and plaintive, his tiny hands outstretched toward the figure.
For a moment, the figure hesitated, their hand frozen in midair. Then, with a reluctant sigh, they gently brushed the spawn’s tiny fingers from their sleeve, trying not to acknowledge the flicker of discomfort twisting in their chest. “You’ll be fine,” they muttered, more to themselves than to the spawn.
The scientists stepped forward, moving with calculated precision, their expressions unreadable as they began to take readings and analyze the spawn’s gear. The mine, still clutched tightly in the spawn’s grasp, glowed faintly, its energy signature radiating through the sterile room. One of the scientists noted something down on a clipboard, glancing at the figure. "Power readings are off the charts. This... could be something extraordinary."
The figure's eyes narrowed, their brow furrowing as they watched the spawn, who was now lying peacefully on the table, his body still curled slightly as he snuggled into the oversized jacket for warmth. The once bubbly, chaotic little creature had fallen into a quiet stillness, as if the sterile environment had drained the energy from him. The figure felt a strange sense of emptiness settle in their gut as they watched the tiny being, so vulnerable yet so full of potential.
“What’s the next step?” the figure asked, their voice flat, betraying none of the confusion and growing unease swirling within them.
"Further tests," one of the scientists replied, her voice cold and detached. "We’ll begin with the analysis of his subspace energy and see if we can enhance his capabilities."
The figure nodded, the weight of the situation settling over them like a thick fog. They had come here for answers, for power. But now, as they stood there in the sterile, clinical space, something had shifted. The spawn—this tiny, innocent creature—had somehow become more than just a tool to be exploited.
A soft, almost imperceptible breath escaped from the figure's lips as they looked down at the spawn, who was now softly drifting off to sleep again, unaware of the harsh reality unfolding around him. Something—some spark of humanity, however small—was beginning to stir within the figure, and it terrified them.
"Fine," the figure muttered, turning their back to the table. "Do what you need to. Just don’t damage him."
One of the scientist's turned, she was young, real young, in her early twenties. Moonwalk stood a few paces away, her hands adjusting the hem of her lab coat with practiced precision. The coat was a symbol of her rising status, its unique design marking her as someone important—or someone about to be. Unlike the standard-issue coats worn by most Blackrock employees, hers bore intricate details that hinted at her individuality and ambition. Tiny yellow stars dotted the fabric, sparkling faintly under the cold fluorescent lights, and a subtle shimmering pattern of Blackrock’s logo adorned the lapels. It was a garment that demanded attention, much like its wearer.
She smoothed down the coat with an air of casual confidence, her sharp gaze locking onto the figure. “You’ve grown quite soft for the spawn,” she said, her voice light and teasing, but her words carried an undercurrent of something sharper.
The figure’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t read into it,” they said curtly, their voice low and defensive. “It’s just a matter of his potential. That’s all.”
Moonwalk raised an eyebrow, her smile curving slightly wider. “Potential, sure. That’s what you’re telling yourself, isn’t it?” She folded her arms across her chest, her tone almost playful, but her eyes gleamed with intelligence and a touch of challenge.
The figure’s gaze flicked briefly to the spawn, who was nestled on the examination table, still wrapped snugly in the oversized jacket. His tiny hands clutched his glittering subspace tripmine like a lifeline, his breaths soft and steady. A faint pang rippled through the figure’s chest, though they quickly masked it with a scowl.
“Why are you even commenting?” the figure shot back, their tone clipped. “What does it matter to you?”
“Oh, it matters plenty,” Moonwalk replied, leaning casually against a nearby workstation. “A soldier like you, showing signs of... sentimentality? That’s rare. And fascinating.”
“I’m not sentimental,” the figure snapped, their voice colder now. “You’re imagining things.”
Moonwalk’s smirk didn’t waver. “Am I? Let’s review, shall we? You carried him here through a snowstorm. You wrapped him in your own jacket. And now you’re hovering over him like some sort of protective guardian.” She gestured toward the spawn, her tone almost amused. “Face it—you care more than you’d like to admit.”
The figure’s jaw tightened, their hands curling into fists at their sides. “He’s a valuable asset,” they said through gritted teeth. “That’s all. I’m ensuring he remains intact for analysis. Nothing more.”
“Mm-hmm,” Moonwalk said, her voice dripping with skepticism. She pushed off the workstation and stepped closer, her customized coat shimmering faintly with every movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the figure, sharp and probing. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone try to hide their humanity behind excuses. But it’s always interesting to watch.”
The figure said nothing, their silence filled with tension. Moonwalk took a step back, as if to give them space, though her expression suggested she wasn’t done observing. “Don’t worry,” she said lightly, turning her attention back to her console. “Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”
“I don’t have a secret,” the figure muttered, their voice tight with frustration. They turned on their heel and stalked toward the door, their boots striking the metal floor with sharp, deliberate steps. But as they pushed through the heavy doors, leaving Moonwalk and the lab behind, they couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in their chest.
Time passed. Minutes felt like hours as they paced the cold, dimly lit corridor outside the lab. The hum of machinery and the distant echoes of workers moving through Blackrock’s massive facility did little to distract them. Their thoughts kept circling back to the spawn. They sighed, this was scaringly diffferent from waht they would usually do. Find, bring, test. Find, bring, test. There was never room for 'emotional love' support, or anything in Blackrock. But, they couldn't help but feel, a tinsy bit of concern towards the spawn.
The figure hated the conflict roiling within them. They were a soldier, trained to follow orders without question. But this spawn, with his wide, sparkling eyes and innocent giggles, had cracked something in their carefully constructed armor. They clenched their fists, frustrated by their own weakness.
Finally, unable to endure the waiting any longer, they turned and strode back into the lab.
The doors hissed open, and the sterile scent of disinfectant and ozone greeted them. Moonwalk stood by the console, her fingers dancing over the interface as she reviewed data. The spawn was back on the examination table, no longer wrapped in the oversized jacket. Instead, he was carefully tucked under a thermal blanket, the faint rise and fall of his small chest signaling that he was still peacefully asleep. The glittering subspace tripmine was placed beside him, untouched.
Moonwalk glanced up as the figure entered, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Back so soon? I thought you were eager to leave this all to us.”
The figure ignored her, their focus solely on the spawn. They approached the table cautiously, their eyes scanning him for any sign of harm. “Is he... all right?” they asked, their voice quieter than they intended.
Moonwalk leaned back against the console, crossing her arms. “He’s fine. Better than fine, actually. His gear’s readings are off the charts. This little one has incredible potential, just as you suspected.”
The figure exhaled slowly, relief washing over them. They reached out, hesitating for a moment before brushing a gloved hand lightly against the spawn’s head. The little one stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small face scrunching briefly before relaxing again.
Moonwalk watched the interaction with mild amusement. “You know,” she said, her tone casual but laced with curiosity, “it’s not often we see someone like you so... invested.”
The figure shot her a sharp look. “I’m not ‘invested.’ I’m ensuring he remains useful.”
“Of course,” Moonwalk said, her smirk widening. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The figure chose not to dignify her comment with a response. Instead, they focused on the spawn, their expression softening despite themselves. “What’s next?” they asked, their voice steadier now.
“We’ll monitor him,” Moonwalk replied, gesturing to the equipment surrounding the table. “Run some additional tests, observe his development. He’ll need proper care to reach his full potential. That means he’ll be under Blackrock’s protection—for now.”
“For now?” the figure echoed, their tone skeptical.
Moonwalk shrugged. “We’ll see how he progresses. If he’s as promising as the initial data suggests, he could become one of our most valuable assets. But that depends on his growth—and on how well he’s... guided.”
The figure’s jaw tightened, but they nodded. “Fine. Just make sure he’s treated properly.”
“Your concern is touching,” Moonwalk teased, though her expression grew more serious. “But don’t forget where we are. Blackrock isn’t a place for sentimentality. You should keep that in mind.”
The figure didn’t respond. They scooped up the spawn’s discarded jacket and carefully draped it over him again, tucking it around his small form. The spawn let out a soft sigh, curling into the warmth, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric.
And...
“Ahem, could I perhaps bring him to my home? And bring him back tomorrow?” The figure's voice was quieter than usual, carrying a sense of uncertainty that they weren’t used to showing. They hesitated for a moment, the words hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t like them to ask for anything, to show vulnerability, but the small spawn in their arms had somehow pulled that out of them. The way the little one curled into the warmth of the jacket, the way he sought comfort even in the midst of everything else—it stirred something deep within them. Something unfamiliar.
They shifted the spawn slightly, their hold tightening just enough to keep him secure as the spawn’s tiny fingers gripped at the fabric of the jacket, still half-awake and murmuring softly. It was an involuntary act, this feeling of protectiveness, but it was strong enough to make them consider this unlikely request.
Moonwalk’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips curling into a sly grin as she leaned against the console, her arms crossed over her chest. She was always quick to pick up on any hint of weakness, any small change in demeanor. "See? Dad-figure already! Gosh, I can hardly believe it. You’re really softening up, aren’t you?"
The figure’s face tightened, eyes narrowing as they shot a look toward Moonwalk. The playful teasing was more than they could bear, and they snapped, though their voice lacked the usual conviction. “This is not about that,” they said sharply, but their words felt hollow, even to their own ears. They cleared their throat, attempting to regain some semblance of their usual composure. "I just... want to make sure he’s okay. Away from the cold, the noise. Maybe a quieter environment."
Moonwalk’s expression shifted slightly, her playful smirk still lingering but now with a more knowing gleam in her eyes. She didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the figure stew in their discomfort for a moment before offering her answer. “Hm, okay! But don’t forget—te bring em back tommorow! Bye!"
The figure sighed in quiet relief, feeling a cold knot of unease settle in their stomach. They hadn’t forgotten, but they didn’t care. The spawn—he—wasn’t just property. There was more to this, even if the figure couldn’t fully admit it to themselves yet. They nodded curtly, a sign of reluctant agreement, but their mind was elsewhere, focused on the small body cradled in their arms.
"Thank you," they muttered, their voice softening slightly as they adjusted the spawn in their hold. With careful, deliberate movements, the figure turned away from the lab, heading toward the elevator with a determined pace. The distant hum of machinery in the halls seemed to fade as they walked, each step filled with a quiet sense of purpose.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ping, and the figure stepped inside, moving as though they were on autopilot, their thoughts preoccupied with the spawn nestled in their arms. The soft, rhythmic sound of the elevator rising was almost soothing, a momentary respite from the tension that constantly filled the air within Blackrock. The figure looked down at the spawn, noting how his small, peaceful form contrasted with the sterile, lifeless environment around them.
The doors slid open, and the figure stepped out onto the familiar, cold floor of the building’s underground level. They glanced briefly at the security desk, where a guard barely glanced up, already knowing who the figure was. The spawn shifted slightly, his breath warm against the figure’s chest, and for a moment, the figure allowed themselves to pause, their gaze lingering on the small, fragile being in their arms.
Outside, the wind howled against the walls of Blackrock, sending icy gusts swirling through the open space as the figure made their way to the exit. The biting cold hit them immediately, but they didn’t flinch. The spawn’s tiny body was pressed close, kept warm by the figure’s protective hold, a stark contrast to the bitter air that bit at their skin.
The figure moved with purpose, taking quick strides through the snow-covered streets. The city was quiet tonight, the usual hum of activity muffled beneath a blanket of snow. It was the perfect time for the figure to slip away unnoticed, to find a small measure of peace for themselves and the spawn.
They walked quickly, their breath puffing in clouds before them, until the familiar sight of their apartment loomed ahead. With a final glance over their shoulder, they reached for the door, keying in the code before pushing the door open.
The warmth of the apartment greeted them, a sharp contrast to the harsh cold outside. As the door clicked shut behind them, the figure paused for a moment, looking around the quiet space. It was simple, modest even, but it was their refuge, the one place they could find solace. The figure took a deep breath, setting the spawn gently on the couch, ensuring the little one was comfortable. The spawn murmured softly, his tiny body shifting under the blanket as the figure adjusted it around him.
The figure lingered for a moment, watching the small form. There was something undeniably fragile about the spawn, something that tugged at the figure’s heart in a way they couldn’t explain. They moved away briefly, heading into the kitchen to prepare something warm. Their hands moved mechanically, the motions familiar even if their mind was preoccupied.
As the figure worked, the soft sound of the spawn’s quiet breathing filled the apartment, creating an atmosphere of calm that felt almost foreign. Despite everything, despite the chaos of Blackrock, the spawn was safe here—at least for now. And that was enough.
to be continued ...