Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Trapper. That was their ‘name’. Not really, but that’s just what they went with. It was what everyone refered to them as, so why object? Names here had no meaning, and they sure as hell weren’t in the right to choose it for themselves. That opportunity passed a long time ago.
Trapper walked down the cold hallways of the Blackrock facility, not a step too fast or out of place. Perfect stance, steady pace, hands tucked behind back, proffesional. The Subspace T.Mine had summoned the mercanery on an account of ‘important business’, though what it was remained undisclosed. That was weird, because normally he’d be so precise with every little detail and instruction that Trapper would start considering clawing their ears off. Though, if that were to happen, Subspace would probably have artificial ones ready for them. Atleast, that was the case for the past 1… 2 limbs. They looked down, momentarily glancing at the prosthetic arms that replaced their missing ones. Layered sheets of gleeming lightweight aluminiam, securely placed screws, doll-like ball joints, and of course, the Blackrock symbol, burnt into the palm. A constant reminder that they were in debt to this cursed company.

Trapper lightly shook their head, ignoring that impending feeling of dread, and continued walking, quickly reaching the doors. They were unreasonably large, garnished with gold lining and all that fancy shit, only further proving that the higher ups in this place would do just about anything to show who was in charge, no matter how expensive or ridiculous. With an almost effortless push of the door, Trapper entered the room, taking a few steps inside. It was barely furnished, the walls adorning only a few paintings of (who they could only assume were) old rich people. In the centre of the room was a long table, stretching across the whole floor. This room was typically used for meetings consulting Blackrock’s actions. They had attended some, only as a background character though, always intently listening to their words, hanging on every sentence for a scrap of info or closure.

At the end of the table, on the very far seat, sat non other then Subspace himself. He had his head lolled to the side, resting against his fist, and was watching- no, stareing – at them. Observing their every movement. It was always unsettling to be in a room alone with Subspace like this. Behind those flimsy face masks and fabric strips was rotting flesh. Decaying skin you could smell. Burnt, rotten, and everything else repulsive.

But they weren’t alone together. They were accompanied by some other presence. Trapper was now on edge, paying close attention to a sudden buzzing that echoed through the empty room. Subspace, noticing this quick change to the setting, laughed a little, in that high pitched, phycotic way. It made them want to choke him, but that’d be impolite… And illegal.
“Ha! Seems someone is a little paranoid.” Subspace teased, lolling his head to the side. They didn’t respond, only glaring at him with a faint hint of hatred. Anymore and they’d be killed on the spot for insubordination.

It had been a few days since Trapper was let out of the infirmary. The incident resulted in them having to go through some minor neurosurgery. A headache was starting to set in again. Just why the hell did Subspace want them for now?

“What do you need, Subspace?” They signed, steel prosthetic hands tapping together with soft clinks. Subspace grinned at the question, a soft hum escaping him as he tapped a bony finger against the surface of the marble table.

“Well, me and the higher ups are rather disapointed with you. Escpecially after your… failed mission. Out of all the criminals, did you have to let the one stealing MY crystals run free? Tsk.” He slammed his hand on the table, emphasising his frustration, while keeping a sick smile on his face. SFOTH, did they want to claw it of his face like.

“Well, after some discussion, we’ve come up with a reasonable response to this. You’re being terminated.”

The rest happened all too fast. An electrical buzzing whirred in the corner of the room. The sound was all to familiar, but their reaction was severley delayed. They turned for the door, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, but it was too late. A hyperlaser shot through the room, Trapper only narrowly missing it. Instead of the beam peircing their skull, it grazed half their face. And fuck, did it burn. Their horns were blown off, skin fizzling off their face. Trapper contained a shriek. They had to ignore the pain for now. Move forward. Push open the door. Get out, get out, GET OUT. They shot down the hall, the wind pressure amplifying the pain on their face. It was excruciating, but they had to push forward. Live. They traversed the facility, an alarm going off, blaring through the building as they made their escape. Their heartbeat was rapid, and a headache was brewing, vison getting cloudier by the second. Fighting to stay on their feet, they made it to an emergency exit, of which they bolted through, not bothering to close. Soon, snow crunched beneath their feet, crisp, cold air violating their lungs. Trapper wasn’t apropriatley dressed for this. Instead of the proper coat and thermal undergarments, they only wore casual clothing. A sleevless top and company uniform pants. Now, with the burning sensation gnawing at their face, and the cold biting everywhere else, it was excruciatingly difficult to continue running. But that didn’t matter. They had to make it out safe. Breathing. Alive.

Chapter Text

They had been running for hours now, the pain eating at their face never ceasing. If only… If only they could keel over and die already. But that would mean Subspace - no. Not just that bastard. The entirety of Blackrock – win. The was now setting, casting long shadows of the trees. Trees? Oh.

They were nearing the border between Thieves’ Den and Blackrock. They were nearly free. Trapper smiled, or at least tried to. A harsh puff escaped them, weariness and exaustion crashing down finally. The adrenalne rush was over. After hobbling into the airy, cold forest of Thieves’ Den, Trapper finally collapsed. They were so fucking tired. 2 near death experiences within a month was not something they could handle at the moment. It was just too confusing. Maybe now they would have the right to die, out of the claws of Blackrock, that would use their corpse for some sick experiment. They didn’t move, aside from unsteady inhalation and twitching of their prosthetics. Trapper closed their eyes - Or eye, now that the left one was scorched out of its socket – and took a moment to just breathe, taking in all the crisp, fresh air around them. Their face brushed against the damp grass. Whilw it was cold, it was refreshing. Much more enjoyable than the hypothermia enducing winters of Blackrock.

Soon enough, the light drained from the sky, leaving them alone in a void of darkness. They could care less about being eaten by some ravenous creature, or just dying on the spot. They were just releived that they were somewhat free now. No more killing innoccents or criminals. No more narcassistic inphernals to bow down to. It felt as if a collar made of accid and stone had been taken off of them, allowing Trapper to breathe again. It was great.

Weariness was heavy, and the pain in their face was still burning hot. Not to mention a new pain in their leg. A large gash had formed, most likely from brushing through a thorn bush too hard in their panic. Oh well. It was fine. Everything would be ok now.

With one last, everlasting sigh, they drifted to sleep, awaiting their death.

Chapter Text

Cold. It was all there was in this abyss. Were they dead? Surely. Trapper couldn’t stand up. They couldn’t move at all, really. It wasn’t really possible when you’re constantly floating over something that could either be a mass of souls, waiting for you to join them, or sitting in your consciousness, trapped in your own mind. Trapper felt alive. But were they? They still had a pulse, they still breathed, and they could still hear things.

Footsteps, murmers, the crackling of a fire. They could hear it all, but they couldn’t open their eyes to see what it was. Occasionally, they’d have something brush over their head, or shoulder, like a reassuring pat on the back, or a gentle nudge to get them awake. They were trapped in a state of dormancy, able to hear, and feel, but incapeable of movement or observation. It was disorienting.

This constant state of dizzyness and confusion, however, subtly started to change. The darkness morphed into something else. Something familiar. It was unnerving at first, having the cold and dark environment that had grown comfortable be replaced by something that at first was unrecognisable. But the more the darkness shifted, and the more an actuall world around them started to shape, Trapper remembered what it was.

Blackrock.

No. No they left that place. They escaped. Why were they back here, walking through halls like they hadn’t been assaulted just hours (or days) before? Panic started twisting their stomach into tight knots, yet they still maintained a straight face. Was this real? Or was it just their mind playing tricks on them for the fun of it? Trapper couldn’t tell anymore. All they did was keep a steady pace down the eerily familiar, cold hallway of the Blackrock science facility.

It was as if their body moved on their own, repeating everything that they had done before. As if they were in a loop, one that replayed the murder attempt, with them being forced to watch from their own eyes.

One step forward. One step to the side. One step forward. One step forward. Until they were back infront of that overly fancy door. Back inside the unfurnished meeting room. Subspace repeated his little talk, the electrical buzzing starting again, but they didn’t move. Unlike before, they didn’t save themselves. They just stood there, frozen, waiting untill the scorching hot hyperlaser beam hit their head once more, only this tome, peircing through their skull.

It felt like they had died for a second, a phantom of pain shooting through their head, pushing them down. Then, they shot back up, awake, trembling, breathing heavily. They were alive, much to their surprise. Trapper reached for their face, touching it, patting themselves down. It still ached, but they weren’t bleeding out, or burning alive. That’s a start. Bandages were wrapped around the burnt part of their face and their leg, and while it wasn’t the most comfortable, and they would rather be decomposing, it was a nice gesture.

After giving themselves a quick reajusting, they just sat there, staring at their hands. Then, the reality of it hit them. Trapper lost their purpose. Blackrock had dissposed of them. What was their purpose now? What were they meant to do?... Killing was the only thing they were good at. The thing they were used for, so what now. Before they knew it, tears started streaming down half their face. What was this again? Crying? It had been a while since they expressed sadness. They choked on their sobs, not knowing how to function with this overwelming feeling. It was almost difficult to breath, god dammit. Their hands shakily grabbed the hem of their shirt, wiping the wet stains off their face. It felt disguisting, being vulnerable like this. Or maybe Trapper just wasn’t used to it.

In the middle of their little pitty party, they were interupted. The sound of a door swinging open startled them into straight up ceasing their sobs, setting off a fight or flight reaction. Was it an intruder? No, they were in someone elses house. They were the intruder, really. A threat? Possibly. In their weakened state, entering combat would be foolish, making them a sitting duck. The inphernal who took them in and bandaged them up? Most likely. However, it was unclear what their intentions were, so even if they weren’t an immediate threat, Trapper would still have to be weary around them. While they were still running over every possibility, the stranger entered the room, noticing quickly that they were awake.

“I didn’t think you would wake up. Good morning.” A gruff voice said from behind them. Trapper whipped around, surprised and paranoid, twitching a little. Behind him stood a tall, dark skinned man, with a mask that covered his full face. Red horns, stretching out of his head and curving upwards. A katana was secured at his waist. That must be his gear. It was a dangerous weapon, one to be weary of.

The man stepped closer, causing Trapper to scramble to the other side of the couch they had been placed on, almost unwraveling the bandages on their leg. He inched back, giving them some space.

“You’re not in danger. Calm down.” He tried to be reassuring, raising his hands in an attempt to look harmless. The tears on their face and their skidish behaviour was a good enough hint that the Blackrockian was rather distressed. Trapper wiped their face with the rim of their tattered shirt, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It was only then that the man spoke.

…

It had been about an hour since Trapper woke up. According to the red man, who’s name was Katana, they had been in a coma for about 3 weeks, after nearly bleeding out in the woods. Katana found their body, felt a slow pulse, and brought them to his apartment to at least try and heal them, and after much waiting, and many visits from Vinestaff, they did eventually recover.
Now, they sat beside each other on the couch, Trapper distancing themselves (fair enough), with their bandaged leg propped up on a coffee table. Katana had made them both herbal tea, which they held very delicatley, watching the steam whisp around the surface of the hot liquid. They didn’t talk at all. No eye contact either.

“Do you have a name?” Katana asked, lifting up his mask a little to sip from the mug. Trapper paused from a moment, snapping out of their trance to ponder the question. A name was something that had always been insignificant to them. It was merely a title. A combination of sounds that made calling upon someone more simple and efficient. Never in their life did they had a name that truly stuck with them.

But now, confronted with the question, they felt a bit panicked. Tell Katana their current title, and they could expose their origins, and lose this opertunity to start anew. They could lie, and build a new identity from their. Or, they could stay quiet. They could make him believe he didn’t have a name, which wouldn’t be entirely lying. Tapping their metal fingers against the tea cup, they decided to keep silent. They didn’t want to talk. They didn’t want to give away anything that could jeporadize their new life. So, with a slow but clear gesture, they shook their head, taking another sip of tea.

Katana hummed in response, intrigued by their response, but unwilling to pry.

It was probably best that way.

Chapter Text

It had been a few hours since Trapper had woken up, and in all honesty, they wished they had stayed in a coma. But instead, they laid there on the leather couch, settled under a thick wool blanket, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. It was hard to feel anything. After so long, they had gotten used to suppressing their emotions. It was just easier that way. Killing for work was harsh on the mind, often sparking deep, uncontrollable feelings of guilt and sadness, so simply disassociating from any and all basic inphernal emotion made the job somewhat bearable. Now that they had escaped from that hellish frozen wasteland, they were free to feel whatever they needed to. And it felt.. so strange. They were quite confused by their situation, but felt a deep bubbling hatred and angry heat brewing in their stomach. It had always been there, but now they had the peace to actually notice and pay attention to it.

Katana had left them alone to rest after asking a few questions. They were mostly yes/no questions, seeing that the injured demon either chose not to speak or was incapable of talking. It was nice, having someone finally take into consideration the fact that they were nonverbal when having a conversation with them. At Blackrock, most would simply use that to their advantage, and ramble on and on about the stupidest, and sometimes illegal actions they had done.

“What are you gonna do, snitch?”

It made them mad thinking about the smug look those bastards always had saying that. They clenched their aluminium fingers together in anger, almost slamming their hand down on the nearest surface. Trapper inhaled sharply grounding themselves, taking all that anger and shoving it back into the pit of their stomach. Instead, they’d took a moment to look around.

Katana’s living space was rather nice. A faint warm light glowed softly over the leather furniture that was arranged in a circle around the fireplace built into the wall. There were a few inked drawings, mostly of birds, hung around the varnished wood walls. The window was decorated with stained glass, colours of yellow, red white forming a mosaic on the window pane. It was quite dazzling to look at, even without the light of day shining through it. There were a couple shelves with neatly arranged plants as well, sitting in uniquely painted clay pots. It looked like a child’s drawing had been pasted onto the clay pot with a severely frayed paintbrush. Trapper would ask about it in the morning. Maybe.

For now though, they rested their head against the provided pillow, dozing off.

…

Beep

Beep

Beep

That was all they heard in this abyss of a dream. The repetitive beeping of a heart monitor. It was slow, but stable, and for once they felt somewhat at ease. But just why were they back in the hospital?.. And what for, this time? They couldn’t open their eyes, or move at all. They were trapped in a dormant, blind state. At first, they didn’t see it as a problem. Their dream was peaceful, and the beeping wasn’t that much of a disturbance. That was until they felt it.

A cold, rough hand dug into them, right through their stomach. They wanted to screech at the sudden violation, but it was impossible to. None of their muscles would move, their body unresponsive and vulnerable. They felt the hand dive in again, pulling out their insides, and something else, something cold and hard - probably metal - replace everything that had been torn apart. They felt sick, repulsed by the sensation in their gut. It felt too real. Too familiar. They wanted to shout at whoever it was digging through their stomach to stop and put everything back, to slit their own throat and relieve themselves of the discomfort. But they couldn’t.

The last thing they heard was laughter. Familiar, eerie laughter, in the voice of none other than Subspace. That fucker.

They awoke very abruptly, their trembling body achy. Trapper felt disgusted by the feeling of their skin. Their face was wet with fat tears, still streaming from their
puffy eyes. They sat up, the action difficult when their limbs were all shaky, including the fake ones. They felt sick and repulsed, an uprising in their stomach making them want to throw up. Trapper gagged, clasping one hand over their mouth and another around their stomach. In a last ditch effort to prevent themselves from throwing up, they started to bite down on their prosthetic arm. It was painless, given that the limb wasn’t organic, but the taste of metal that lingered on their dry lips was just as disgusting. At least it managed to stop the overwhelming sickness that was brewing in their stomach, preventing them from making a mess in Katana’s home.

They weren’t able to go back to sleep after that dream - no, nightmare - and instead spent the rest of the night clutching their stomach in hopes that the phantom pain would come to an end. Luckily, as the sun slowly flooded through the windows, the pain ceased, and they were able to properly admire the dancing red, yellow and pale white light created by the stained glass windows.

Trapper lifted up the blanket, throwing it over the head of the couch, taking a moment to observe the healing gash in their leg. The bandages were dirtied with splotches of old blood, and the gauze wrap was starting to come loose. The wound would most likely require stitching for it to completely heal, and may leave a small scar. That was no issue though. They had survived much worse things.

With a shaky movement, they pulled their lower body off he couch, their feet you the ground for the first time in maybe a month. It felt odd, but they felt confident enough. They pulled themselves up onto their feet, using the couch as a support, and eventually, was standing up by themselves. It felt weird to not be constantly smothered by the warmth of blankets and other soft surfaces, but having this small independence was redeeming in a way. They took slow steps forward, close to the wall but not hugging it. Every single bit of pressure applied to the wound in their left leg was excruciating, but they persisted. They had to.

Eventually, Trapper was standing in front of a window, looking out at the area below. Admittedly, they had never been to the Thieves’ Den. The bustling of the street markets below came as quite a surprise. They weren’t aware of the culture surrounding the faction. The environment was entirely new. Adapting was going to be difficult, that was for sure.

Chapter Text

It had already been a few weeks since Trapper woke up. They started walking around the house, helping with chores, and joining the older for dinner. They moved into the guest bedroom, but since they didn’t really have any possessions, it was just a bare resting place. Not a home. Overtime though, Katana had given them things, saying they were gifts from their neighbours. What were their names again? Vinestaff, Shuriken and someone else… Slingshot? Their favourite gift so far was a medium sized, soft plush of a rabbit. It was sewn together with scrap patches, and adorned soulless button eyes. They quite liked having it with them when they slept. It felt as if their nightmares had lessened in intensity since they had acquired the item. In a way, the ‘children’s toy’ brought them comfort.

They stepped out into the main area of the spacious apartment, stretching their back and latching one of their prosthetic arms back in place after taking it off to sleep. Trapper yawned, pulling up their loose shirt collar and wiping away the sleep from their eyes. Katana greeted them with a grumbly, “Goodmorning,” his morning voice deep and kind of intimidating.

“I was going to go for a walk this morning. You haven’t left the house in almost 2 months, so I believe it is best if you come with me.” He said, cutting through a loaf of sourdough rye bread until a slice came off, which would most likely become breakfast. Trapper enthusiastically nodded their head at the proposal, eager to leave the apartment and get a proper look at the area.

…

About 40 minutes later, and after getting properly dressed, they were ready to leave. A while ago, Katana had lended them some spare clothes, mostly consisting of old shirts and other mangled items. They had ripped the sleeves off most of the shirts and jumpers, since the loose threads usually got caught in the gears of their prosthetics.

Today, Trapper wore a torn red shirt and big dark brown cargo pants. The temperature in the Thieves’ Den was usually pretty cold. Not as cold as it was in Blackrock, but cold nonetheless.

They met Katana at the door, giving the taller demon a thumbs up to signal that they were ready to leave. They hadn’t attempted to use sign language just yet, in fear of Katana not understanding, so simple gestures and writing on paper would have to do for now.

Katana opened the door of the apartment and walked out, Trapper following close behind. The 2 walked past multiple other numbered doors, and down a few flights of stairs, and eventually reached the main exit of the building. After some extra walking, the pair reached the markets. The bustling of the crowded streets was very loud, to say the least. Demons pulled carts around, shouting advertisements, others hounding those passing by from the shelter of their tents, multiple wares of food, scraps, fabrics, pottery and other items on display. The atmosphere scared them. It was all too loud, too busy. As Katana stepped out, they grabbed a fist full of fabric from his dark coloured Yakuta, careful not to rip it, but still eager to have him within arm’s reach. Katana huffed, amused by the action, but didn’t say anything about it.

They walked out onto the streets, going along a dirt path that passed by some stands, old, mangy looking demons waving their hands around trying to get others attention, in hopes of selling whatever shit they had. It was all new to Trapper. Sure, they had been to Playground before, which is just as loud and busy, but inphernals there were less talkative. Here though, it was different. All the noise was directed at you, and it came from all different directions. Dirty inphernals were looking at you. Targeting you. And there was no escape from the dreadful, hungry glare of them all.

Trapper leaned closer to Katana, a ringing in their ears forming. While it was just as overwhelming, it was better than being aware of every little sound. They focused on the ground beneath their feet, and tried to focus on literally anything else. They kept their head down, which was an action that, judging by previous observations, would signify that they had no interest in the markets. Katana however, did.

He steered direction, avoiding crashing into other demons, and stopped in front of a seller, displaying a variety of jewellery made from different stones or wood carvings. It was an elderly demon behind the stand, with dark purple cracked horns and an innocent old lady look. Katana spoke with her for a bit, while Trapper continued to disassociate, although they did take a few glances at the necklaces. They were simple straw strings, adorning rows of small stones and tiny wooden carvings of critters from the local area.

They had a very vague memory of being a small child, completely enveloped in the world of small animals and creatures alike. It was a special interest of theirs since they were a kid. At least, they thought it was. Their thoughts of admiration were interrupted when they were slightly nudged in the not injured side of their head. Katana apparently wanted their attention.

“You. Are you ok?” Katana asked, his voice carrying a tone of concern. Trapper seemed to snap back to reality, raising their head, breaking away from their train of thought. Then, they simply nodded, their eyes going from him to the elderly demon, who stifled a hearty laugh.

“Who’s your little shadow, Katana?” She said with a mocking, yet curious voice, brandishing a toothy smile. She was also obnoxiously loud, which only further disturbed Trapper. They simply moved their palm from their head down, signing ‘Hello’, only hoping that she’d have some understanding of simple sign language. She seemed to understand, and mirrored the action. Katana didn’t look all too confused. That was a relief. Luckily, Katana began to talk for them, and Trapper went back to admiring the necklaces.

"They’re a umm…. An 'escapee' that I found not too long ago in the forest. They’re quite injured, so I request that you don’t attempt to bargain with them, Earthsword."

She barked a laughslapping her knee with a brittle, clawed hand.

"I reckon they don't even have a penny to steal." Earthsword spat the playful mockery like it was casual conversation. Then, they remembered. They didn't have any money anymore. Oh shit... They did get paid hefty amounts, and made quite the bank over the past few years of working as a mercenary, but they never really needed to buy anything. Aside from rent and utilities, they never really used their money for anything. Now that all of Blackrock thought they were... dead, where would all their money go?... Hopefully not to fund their sick facilities.

The ringing in their ears gradually stopped, but their surroundings were still muffled by theirs thoughts. Katana and Earthsword still yapped about whatever. He must've been buying something. Surely he wouldn't mind purchasing something for them. Trapper lifted the necklace from it's place descretley, tapping Katana on the shoulder, trying to get his attention.

He turned, directing his gaze towards them, raising the necklace to him like a silent plead. Katana smiled beneath his owl like mask, and took the necklace from them, pulling out some coins from a leather pouch. They didn't hear, or pay attention to much else of the conversation had between the 2 elderly demons. They were more focused on the newly purchased necklace. It was their own. An item that truly belonged to them.

Chapter Text

It had been almost a year now. Things seemed to be getting better. Trapper started eating more, rather than scraps and small portions. They went on walks and got proper exercise, rather than staying inside all day. They were getting good sleep, rather than waking up every night in tears because of an all-to-realistic nightmare. It was getting better.

Maybe. Just maybe, if they hadn’t left their room that night. It they didn’t see what they saw. It they didn’t do what they did. Maybe they could’ve continued making progress. But recovery is a fragile thing, much like their mind. One small nudge and it’ll all come crumbling down.

…

Trapper woke up in the middle of the night, for once not because of a nightmare. More because they were simply thirsty. They sat up, their eyes adjusting to the darkness, the patch-work rabbit doll still sitting in their arms lifelessly. They patted down the bedside table for their glass of water, grabbing onto it with a soft ‘clink!’, before lifting it up to their face. Unfortunately for Trapper, it was empty, only a few drops left at the very bottom of the cup. Sighing in defeat, they got up from their warm, comfortable haven of pillows and blankets, and with slightly shaky feet, made their way to the kitchen.

It was like any normal night. The apartment was quiet, aside from the occasional chorus of crickets. The lights were all off, and everyone was asleep. Or at least, supposed to be asleep. As Trapper neared the main area of the house, they heard 2 voices. Katana’s voice, and an unfamiliar one. It sounded gruff and tired, with a robotic filter overtop. He must’ve had a friend over. That was fine, it wasn’t the first time Katana had stayed up late talking with another inphernal. But the person he was with gave them a strange sense of Deja’ vu. It was as if they recognized it to an extent. However, they weren’t awake enough to care that deeply, and just continued towards the kitchen.

Apon reaching the tiled space, they turned the light on, scaring their eye for a moment, before they adjusted again. Trapper tiredly stumbled towards the sink located in the far corner of the area, and placed the cup down on the bottom of it, right beneath the tap. After turning it on, their gaze swiveled around the surrounding living room. The light from the kitchen illuminated a fair bit around it as well, making some items around the house more visible depending on their vicinity.

There was a strange shape leaning against the glass sliding door that led to the balcony area. It was both outlined by the moonlight, and made visible by the kitchen light. But what was it exactly?

Trapper took a small step closer, and peered at it curiously, inspecting the object. It was a large, blocky gun with a black, sturdy exterior and blue highlights. They remembered seeing it somewhere in Blackrock before, most likely when they were learning about all the gun types and how to use them. If they could recall it was a hyperlaser gun.

The hyperlaser gun.

Trapper only stared at it, stunned by a paralyzing fear. It was like it was all happening again. The flaming hot ray, souring across their face, burning away their skin. They could feel half their face burning again. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real.

Their train of thought was interrupted, saving them from the deep hateful spiral they would’ve fallen into.

“It’s quite late. Are you in the right condition to get yourself home safely?” That was Katana’s voice. Without turning around, Trapper heard the sliding door to the balcony open, and footsteps following close behind. 2 pairs of footsteps.

“I should be ok. Thankyou for your concern.” The husky voice responded. As they stepped further into the house, the cup of water started to overfill. The sound of the running tap caught Katana’s attention, his head turning towards the turned on light, quickly realizingly that Trapper was awake.

“I didn’t expect you to be up. Are you okay?” Katana inquired, directing his well intentioned question at Trapper. The sink was beginning to fill up with water, the drain covered by the already overflowing cup. Trapper didn’t respond in anyway. They just continued to stare at the hyperlaser gun that rested against the sliding door. The fear they felt started to twist into something else. Something more spiteful. More angry. It was as if a giant hole had opened up, and the only thing filling it was fire. A gloved hand grabbed the gun, and their eye followed its movement. The hand was connected to an arm, which was connected to a body, and that body was an inphernal. The inphernal. Trapped stared directly at them now, soullessly glaring at the demon wearing a robotic helmet. It was them. The demon who blasted off half their face. The demon who nearly got them killed. The demon they hated the most.

“It was you, wasn’t it.” They said, using their voice for the first time in a while. It sounded glassy and rough, like their vocal cords were struggling to keep up with their thoughts.

Hyperlaser visibly tensed up, slowly recognizing who they were, but still, he didn’t say anything. Not an apology, not a snide remark, not even a single whisper. It made them feel sick. The sink was nearly full of water, threatening to spill.

With an unnervingly steady hand, they reached to their side, their metal prosthetic gripping onto a knife previously slotted into its holder. They had used blades before, so using it wouldn’t be too much of an issue. Trapper’s intentions were clear. It was written on their expressionless face. It was visible in their one good eye. They started walking forward, picking up the pace subtly.

“How ‘bout I carve out half of your face, HOW ABOUT I BURN AWAY YOUR SKIN!” Their previously expressionless face twisted into a malicious smile, manic and violent. Their voice however, stayed at the same noise level. Quiet, whispery, raspy. They were sprinting now, faster than they needed to in order to cover the short distance. They lunged forward, curling their hand into a fist and punching Hyperlaser right in the face. His helmet shattered upon impact almost immediately, shards of glass flying across the room, blood spraying out from the wound inflicted by their metal hand. Hyperlaser fell backwards, but before he could hit the ground, Trapper grabbed him by the collar. A hole had been made in his helmet, exposing a singular eye, as well as the scarred face around it. They poised the knife over his face, ready to dig it deep within his flesh. They could feel the trembling, heavy breathing beneath them, and reveled in the others fear. Revenge was such a sweet thing.

As they began to plunge the blade down, a hand stopped them. It was Katana. A firm grip was placed on their wrist, preventing them from penetrating any skin.

“Argh- let me go-“

Before they could react, they were pulled backwards, secured in a headlock of sorts. The knife dropped to the floor with a loud clatter, but Trappers response was louder.

With all the built up anger, they fought back, clawing at Katana’s arms through his thick clothing. They were yelling now pure rage spewing out from the depths of their soul. It felt oddly relieving to finally shout it all out, but at the same time there was an overwhelming urge to kill the demon in front of them.

“I’LL KILL YOU. I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU. I’LL MAKE SURE YOU’RE DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME-”

Trapper threatened, clawing through the fabric on his arm now. They pierced through Katana’s skin, beads of blood dripping down his wrists now. Katana stayed silent, unsure of what to say to either of them. Hyperlaser was breathing heavily, a shaky hand clamping around his gun. The mere sight of it in his hands again caused tears to sting their eyes, the stream of angry threats and violent thrashing ceasing. They continued to struggle, but not to get free and attack. To get free and hide. Hide away from that thing that could definitely melt off the rest of their skin in an instant if they made one wrong decision. It was better to scurry off and avoid their fears rather than face them and risk being mutilated even more.

“Let me go. Let me go please. Please.” They begged, their voice coming out sobbish as they choked on the tears that welled up in their throat. A puddle formed in the kitchen, the sink now overflowing and leaking. Katana didn’t budge, fearing what outcomes that might bring. Hyperlaser held the gun in their hands, poised in a way like he was about to shoot. Seeing that Trapper struggled harder, trying to make best of the few seconds they had to escape their possible death. They didn’t want to die. They didn’t want to die, they didn’t want to die, they didn’t want to die. Tears breached their eye, flowing down the side of their face messily.

“Don’t point it at me- please. Please let me go, please. Let me go, let me go, let me go! I don’t- I don’t want to die. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry…” They continued to plead, the grasp Katana had around them slowly getting more and more suffocating. They were trapped. They were vulnerable. They were going to die.

Seeing their suffering, Katana loosened his hold, which soon enough, lead to Trapper squirming their way out. They scrambled across the floor, trying to get as far away as possible, before bumping into a wall. They looked down at their hands, contemplating what they had done. Why were they smiling? Why did they enjoy it? Why did they have so much of this emotion they didn’t even know of? The world around them started to get muffled, a loud ringing in their ears.

Their breathing became labored, their chest tightening in fear, disgust, anger, everything. It was unsettling. Uncomfortable. It made them want to rip the skin off their bones. What was this? A hand went to clutch their chest, taking a fistful of fabric from their pajamas and holding it for dear life, their heartbeat vibrating through the clothing. It went out of their chest, loud enough to make their ears bleed. They wanted it to stop.

Please, just stop.

They buried their head into their knees, twitching as they choked on tears. Their breathing was unsteady and rapid, their lungs suffocating with every rejected breath. It was a hell in their own body.

A pounding in their head synced with their heartbeat, fast and painful, like their head was being bashed onto the ground again and again and again and again. The puddle in the kitchen was growing, the tap water a never ending stream, feeding into the pool that collected on the tiles. But then it stopped. The tap was cut off, the drain was unplugged, and the pool of water in the sink depleted, a whirlpool forming around the drain.

The ringing in their ears slowly came to a stop, allowing them to make out some of the sounds in the area. They could’ve exactly make out the words, but they did hear Katana and Hyperlaser talking. Some words were thrown around, such as, “Son of a bitch,” and “Are you alright?”. They lifted their head, vision blurred by a saturated haze, but they could make out the sight of the 2 on the far end of the room, Katana picking out glass from his face. Oh. Oh no. OH SHIT…

It slowly occurred to them what they had just done. They tried to, and nearly succeeded in killing Hyperlaser. Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course the bastard deserved it. It was something else disturbed them.

They were becoming something else again, a merciless killer, a tool. They had destroyed any amount of progress made to become a different demon. That terrified them.

Trapper looked down at their hands, noticing the blood that stained the reflective knuckles on the right, as well as the shards of glass wedged in between the ball-point joints. Then, their gaze turned towards the door. The exit to the apartment.

They should probably leave. They wouldn’t be wanted here anymore.

They stood up, taking silent, uneven footsteps towards the door, which thankfully, still had the key wedged in the lock. Because the other 2 were occupied, it was no trouble to slip away unnoticed.

…

It didn’t take long to leave the suburbs. After months of joining Katana for his walks out in the forest, and going on some by themselves, Trapper had basically memorized the layout of the typical forest trail.

It cold, to say the least, but quiet. They were alone, only accompanied by the spirits in the wind and the critters watching from above. Alone was good. Isolation was all they needed.

Chapter Text

Trapper had been wandering for days, deeper and deeper into the dense forests of Thieves’ Den. It got alarmingly cold during the night, but nothing they couldn’t handle. They’ve been in colder climates before, so it really wasn’t a bother, though they did miss the warmth of blankets. And a proper net to sleep in. Trees weren’t that comfy. When was the last time they saw another demon? Maybe 2 days ago? That was probably for the best.

The day had gone by fairly quickly, the sun setting, leaving the forest floor dappled in fading golden sunlight. It was quite beautiful, and in some way, calming to be surrounded by. Mother nature really was a therapist. That got them wondering.

What was their mother like?

Trapper couldn’t remember very well, nor understand why they’d think such a thing so out of the blue, but their hand instinctively went up to caress their left shoulder, right in the spot where their prosthetic arm was connected to their flesh. Now that they thought about it, they couldn’t really… remember their childhood. They knew they grew up somewhere in Blackrock, but they were only taken into the facilities at 13. So what exactly was it like before that? Trapper didn’t remember. Maybe that was a good thing. Everything happens for a reason, right? Right.

They huffed, leaning against the trunk of the tree, letting themselves settle between the branches. Trapper didn’t want to admit it, but they were tired. They had walked too many miles, climbed too many trees, and now wherever they could feel achy, was aching. Maybe tomorrow they could just sleep all day, like a cat. Those furry things that purred and slept all day were called cats, right?

…

Despite being up in a tree, poked by branches, and overall, pretty cramped, they had slept well. Though they did wish they had slept longer. The sun has just started to rise, and the growth beneath the canopy was shrouded in slowly fading shadows, littered with spots of amber lighting.

Trapper wanted a better view of the sunrise, as it wasn’t something they usually saw due to how thick all the trees in the area were. So, with agile, nimble movement they scurried up the branches, scraping their clothing against some loose ones along the way. Up they went, passing small birds that either flew away at the sight of the big scary demon, or pecked at their metal parts, defending their nests.

After a few minutes of quick but steady climbing, they reached a spot where it got significantly brighter. The sun painted the leaves above like a dappled yellow and green mosaic. They nestled themself into a spot of thin branches, taking a break from climbing, and simply admired the atmosphere.

It was quiet there, the only sounds being the high pitched chirping of morning birds and buzzing of insects enjoying the sunlight. Then, behind them, they heard a squawk. It was right next to their head, so naturally, they turned to face the obnoxious bird. It was a raven, feathers sleek and black with the faintest oil-spill shimmer across it’s body. It squawked again, not angrily but just… noisily. Like it wanted something.

It began to peck at their prosthetics, the glint reflecting off of the aluminum seemingly attracting it. Greedy fuck. Trapper didn’t want to shoo it away, they were too tired for that, and besides, the bird wasn’t hurting them at all. That was until it pecked at the exposed wires that strung together their joints. That hurt. They immediately jolted upwards, their weight shifting from underneath them. Trapper heard a snap. Oh fuck.

It only took a few seconds before the rest of the branches started to crack, and eventually, they were falling through layers and layers of small twigs and branches.

Their arms flailed in the air, trying to grab onto something, but every branch they latched onto snapped within moments. They were helpless, falling to their supposed death. They could see the light of the sun getting further and further away. They knew they would touch the ground and break their neck anytime now!

Just as Trapper neared the forest floor, their arm finally caught onto something. It was a thick branch at the base of the tree, sturdy enough to hold onto temporarily. Once gravity caught up to them, they were hanging by one arm, the tension on the wires throughout the prosthetic unbearable. They let go, falling onto the grass with a thud. God, that was an experience!...

Mere seconds later, something interrupted their floor-to-face time. Distant screaming, and it was getting closer. Fast.

Trapper got up from the ground, dusting the dirt off their already stained clothes, and scurried back up a tree, high enough to go unseen, but low enough to sill view the scandal.

Soon enough, a middle aged demon with windy blue horns, came running through the trees, letting out pained screeches and gasps as blood trickled out of multiple wounds, some on his head, some on his back. Before he was able to pick a direction, he collapsed, blood pooling onto the grass. The demon pathetically tried to crawl away into the bushes, a feeble attempt at escaping whatever he was running from, but eventually it caught up.

Another demon entered the scene. This one was tall, with black horns that curled back with purple shards of crystals embedding the keratin. They prodded out of a head of white curly hair, that looked unwashed and mangy. A thin tail with 1 puff of fur at the very tip lingered behind the demon, staying close to the ground while lashing about, and in their hand, a purple, glistening sword. The blade was already stained with blood that dripped of the tip, and the strange demon seemed to be bleeding as well, proven by the smudges on their hands.

They loomed over the cowardly one, drawing the sword out, poising it to strike again.

“Plea-Please!! It won’t happen again I swear!” The demon pleaded, backing away, dragging himself across the dirt, leaving a trail of blood. The other didn’t respond, only taking slow steps forward, blade glistening in the patches of early morning sunlight.

“I uh- I can pay you! More than whatever you’re already getting, I swear! Please!...” He attempted bribing the other to no avail. Pathetic tactics always had pathetic outcomes. Soon enough, the assassin was standing right over to sobbing demon, sword raised, ready to dig into his heart.

And that’s exactly what happened!

Trapper watched as the stranger plunged the blade of the sword into the man’s chest, blood pooling at the wound immediately as he screamed in pain.

“AAUURGH- NOOO… NO PLEASE-“He choked through drawn out cries, clawing at the grass. The blade was pulled out of his chest for a few moments, before it pierced the skin once again. Another painful cry.

“AAAGHH!!!” The man started spewing out blood, signifying that a lung had been punctured. The stranger pulled the sword out one last time, waiting for the other demon to go limp. Blood dripped off the tip of the blade, a fresh crimson red colour contrasting against the yellowish green of the grass.

Trapper could only watch the scene unfold, too entranced to look away from the gruesome sight. Soon enough, the impaled one stopped his sobs and breathing entirely, clearly showing that he was dead.

They continued staring at the stranger, waiting for their next move, deducting whether they would be a threat or not. Then, a bird landed next to them. It was the same fucking raven.

Before they could swat it away, it started squawking, pecking at their exposed wires again. They let go of one of the branches they held onto, attempting to shoo the damn bird away, but lost balance in the process.

They fell to the floor, hitting their head hard on what was probably a hidden rock. For a moment, everything was blurry, a pain shooting through the back of their head. Their hearing became muffled, replaced with a slight ringing, and eventually, it all went black.

Chapter Text

It was like no other day. Solar had been assigned another assassination mission, this time going after a child predator. How fun. He guessed it made the job easier when the people getting killed actually deserved it. They had the location and face memorized, and was overall ready to go in for the kill, though, with it being one of his first jobs, he was just a bit nervous. No issue though! He’d get the job done.

...

After a few hours of combat and chasing down the target, he eventually finished the job, drawing the sword out of the target’s chest slowly, watching the blood drip from the tip of the blade. He killed a man. He took a life. Someone with a conscience, thoughts and feelings, gone. And by his hands. It took a moment for him to process that information. He sighed, sheathing his sword into its scabbard.

He felt odd, staring at the limp, bloody body. Aside from the multiple gaping wounds, the skin was perfect. Untouched. Healthy. He felt envious of that. The more he looked at it, the more his right arm started to throb and itch. It was an unbearable feeling of pain and jealousy. He looked down at his right arm, seeing the stitches holding the skin together starting to decay, doused in layers of black, rotting blood. Then, he looked back at the skin of his target. Clean, pristine, unscathed. He could do with a fresh new patch of skin to cover his rotting insides. The fucker was already dead, he wouldn’t miss it!...

He took a step closer, drawing out a smaller knife from his pocket, and began to crouch down, when…

THUD.

Something close by came crashing down through the trees, and when he turned to look at it, he saw it was another demon.

A small one, with prosthetic arms and cracked orange horns, one curling upwards from the side of their head, and 2 smaller ones sticking out not too far underneath. Their face was turned away, covered by their medium length, matted hair. They seemed unresponsive, but a faint breathing could be seen. They were alive. They were a witness.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIIIIIIT. What were they supposed to do with witnesses again? Kill them? Abduct them? SKIN THEM? He didn’t fucking know, but he should figure out something soon.

Putting the pocket knife away, he crept closer to where the stranger laid unconscious. He observed the small demon, gently turning them over. Solar tensed at the state of their face. The left side of their face was basically melted off, burns stretching as far as their nose, sealing their eye shut. Their lip was torn, exposing unnaturally sharp teeth. There was a stitch-like scar on the right side of their forehead, and a nick on their right cheek. Dear SFOTH, they were small enough to be a child, and yet was this banged up. It felt eerily familiar, seeing someone so delicate be so wounded.

Solar reached down, wrapping his arms around the limp inphernal, slinging them over his shoulder. It’d probably be best to leave the scene of the crime, just incase anyone came searching for the dead one. Though, the police were probably going to sweep this case under the rug. Who’d want to track down a missing child predator? No one with reasonable morals, that was certain.

He stood up, walking through the dense forest in search of civilization, or a good clearing to rest for a while.

… (Trapper’s POV)

Trapper woke up not too long after their fall. At least, they thought it hadn’t been that long. They could sense movement beneath them, and something warm on their back.

They were confused for a bit, their hearing still muffled, but their vision seemed to be normal again. Their eye darted around, observing their surroundings lazily. They yawned, one hand digging into whatever was beneath them. Trapper’s mind was still pretty foggy, so they didn’t register what happened next very well.

“Good afternoon. You were out for an hour.” Someone said. Their voice was uncanny in a way, where it was hard to describe the tone. It was familiar though. Gave them a sense of Deja ‘vu, but it was hard to pinpoint.

They felt their cheek touch something soft and fluffy, like a blanket, but less warm. They leaned further into it, tired with a hazy mind. The demon, that they realized had been carrying them, seemed to freeze up at this, stopping in his tracks. Then, he coughed out a rehearsed laugh, and continued moving forward.

“You’re like a cat. A very weird cat. What’d you say your name was?”

Trapper didn’t respond to the stranger’s question, only further burying their head into the crook of his neck until their horns clashed against his, seeking the comforting softness that was his hair, and further clawing into his back.

“I take it you don’t wanna tell me. Fair enough. My name’s Solar. And you my friend-“ The stranger, who revealed themselves to be ‘Solar’, abruptly dropped Trapper onto the hard ground. They fell to the dirt with a quiet yelp, more awake now. They looked up at him, remembering his face from earlier. Oh shit, this was the assassin they kinda spied on.

“-are a witness. I don’t know what to do with you, so, in the meantime, you’re sticking with me. Got it?” Solar said with snide smile, though his voice still held some kind of friendliness to it. For once, they didn’t feel threatened, nor scared. Just… skeptical.

Trapper got to their feet slowly, mind still hazy and limbs still uncoordinated. That fall probably caused a concussion. Great! Just great. As a result, their legs were buckling over within seconds, dizzy and winded. They felt pathetic for it, stumbling over in front of a stranger, so they tried their best to hide it instead, leaning on trees for support. Despite their best efforts of simply “getting over it,” and walking despite the numbness in their limbs, it was obvious that they couldn’t walk properly.

Eventually, they collapsed, and damn well nearly fell asleep again. The ground was nice and cold. What if they were to join it again, right here and now, and be reclaimed by the soil? That’d be ok with them, to free themselves of the burden that was called living.

Just as they were about to close their eyes though, they felt warm, rough hands grab at them from either side, lifting them up into the air. Solar seemingly just… picked them up. Quite easily at that. It was scary, but also… humiliating. They pouted ever so slightly as they were once again, slung over his shoulder, but they supposed it wasn’t too bad. It was more comfortable up there anyway.

“Jeez you’re light. Do you… eat enough? Probably not- ah… no offence.” He said, cutting through the overgrown bushes. Trapper only listened as the strangely benevolent assassin started a one-sided conversation. Whether it was with them, or himself, was unknown.

“Where to go next… Probably best to stay out of civilization for a while, since I just killed a man, and I can only assume you did something as bad to be out here. We could keep going, and find somewhere to rest, but with your condition it’s probably best we find actual shelter. I could make a shelter. With the amount of daylight we have left, it may be possible, so ….”

The rest of his rambling became muffled and quiet as it was suppressed by the deafening silence inside their mind. Their eye drooped slightly as their leaned their head further into his neck, enjoying the warmth of another inphernal after so long.

If it were anyone else, they probably would be on the defense, but with this this one… they felt strangely comfortable with his presence. Like they shared something, something that connected the 2 deeply, but just what was it? They could hardly remember their face from anywhere in their blurred past, but that feeling of recognition kept nagging them.

Trapper ignored it for the time being though, and just allowed themself to drift off to sleep, clinging to Solar like a small child.

…

Trapper awoke to the sound of rain, pattering against a roof of sorts. A large source of warmth was beside them, huddling up close to them in the enclosed dark space. They could see the rain falling through the canopy in large gushes, through an opening in the space. They reached to their side, grabbing onto something thick, digging into it, looking for stability. Hours after getting concussed, they had somewhat gotten more of their mind back. It was less foggy, but still slow to register things. Nothing bed rest couldn’t fix though. They should be ok.

“Oh, you’re awake. Hi. Are you ok? You seemed pretty out of it earlier, though that’s probably from the concussion. I don’t know much about medical shit, but you should take it easy, concussions aren’t that great.” Solar started to ramble. Illumina, does he not shut up? Maybe if they pretended to pass out again, they could escape this one-sided conversation.

Trapper huffed, lightly hitting him where they assumed was the side of his head. They heard a TINK, and realized that instead, they tapped on one of the crystals imbedded in his horns. Solar didn’t have a reaction, and continued rambling.

“What am I supposed to do with you again? You’re clearly not in good shape to just be set free, and I don’t want to kill you. Maybe I should just bring you back to base with me and let Sneak decide. OR! What if, I just pretend like there were no witnesses at all! Though if that ever got exposed as a lie, I’d lose my job. Maybe my life. You’re cool with dying right? I’ll make sure it’s not painful or anything, probably just like, a bullet to the head or decapitation. Nothing too obscure. We’re not psychopaths, y’know? Unlike a certain someone that feeds me every intrusive thought I’ve ever had. Darkheart’s a bastard. If you ever get the chance to meet one of the SFOTH’s don’t take it- shit, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Heh…” By the way he talked so consistently, they could easily make the assumption that he had been locked in solitary confinement and as a result, didn’t know how to speak like a normal inphernal. He was like a dog, tiring it’s vocal cords for no reason, barking at nothing. They would chew him out themself, but they didn’t want to speak. They never did. There was an invisible mist of fear that surrounded them whenever they spoke, like something else was strangling them every time they dared to talk, stopping them from communicating. It was a big barrier that separated them from others. Some demons avoided them for it, out of unwillingness to find other ways to communicate, and some would just be outright rude.

“Talking isn’t that hard. You’re just trying to draw attention to yourself.”

They seemed to visibly sadden thinking about it, as Solar, for once, shut up, and instead, stared at them, slightly panicked. Then, with a hesitant hand, he pulled the smaller one closer, in a weird side hug kind of embrace. Trapper tensed, the feeling of being so close to another disgusting. They felt suffocated, claustrophobic, vulnerable. All the bad things that they despised, though there was a strange comfort in the embrace. It was warm, soothing, and overall, a nice gesture. What was this called again? Affection? Yeah. That was it. Affection, a think you show to people to tell them you care, without using words. They had forgotten what this was like, after years of rejecting any physical touch. But now, they wanted to savour this. They wanted to just enjoy the warmth that envelloped them. So, they revelled in it, and let themself lean closer to Solar, gazing out into the rain.