Chapter Text
Blackrock.
It was a dull setting to live in, to put it at the lightest. Other than its icy mountains, the town wasn’t much for scenery. The buildings certainly weren't colorful to the eye at all, for they normally consisted of steel and cement. The snow would pound at the doors, making it as if the icy cold itself wanted warmth from its own cold grasp. Sometimes, it would rain so heavily in snow that it would be impossible for inphernals to get outside their doors. it was winter's own vengeance.
The faction was better known for its technological advancements rather than its climate, however. Everywhere you would look, you'd nearly-always be met with a machine or some sort of futuristic-seeming device. It was as if there were plenty more Biografts than there were inphernals, if anyone even bothered to notice anymore.
The inphernals that inhabited the place weren’t usually looked at in a positive light either. The overpowering government daunted demons from other factions. Blackrock's system of lower-class and upper-class wasn't happily looked upon either. The stories and individuals that came out of Blackrock also served as an example of why the place was in a bad light. The rich were jerks — but again, what rich person wasn’t? For it was the lower-citizens that displayed just how dull and miserable their environment was. They simply existed. Not living their lives. What kind of life is that?
The ones who did end up making a difference though — ones that had a part in how Blackrock was today — became just as corrupt when they exploited the power and knowledge in their hands. They would rise up in the ranks, surpassing other inpherals. The newborns that Blackrock’s Spawnpoint had brought into the faction didn’t seem to be getting any better either — their fate ending up like the rest of them. A cycle is what it was.
Unless one’s dream could make a difference, and benefited the faction and its government, their dream would be harshly handed back to them. That was the unfortunate reality of Blackrock.
Phights were the best thing Blackrock had to bringing its inhabitants together, and this also applied to the entirety of Inpherno. It was the closest thing to Inferno-wide peace, really. The factions despised each other. Everyone who wasn't a phighter was usually in their home, broadcasting the latest Phight tournament happening that day, cheering if their faction won, or disappointed if they lost. To give a good image, think of Phights as if it were Inpherno’s Super Bowl; highly talked about, and normally got very competitive.
Hyperlaser was about to go to just that when he woke up that day. Despite not wanting to get out of bed, he had received a message from work to head to the Phights with Subspace and another Biograft.
Currently, he was staring down at his phone screen, the screen heavily close to his face due to him having his helmet off.
The demon was one of the better-recognized Phighters, since he was Blackrock’s mercenary. He wore an armored helmet when outside his home. The visor was blacked-out to hide his face. Without it, the inphernal wasn’t able to see. It wasn’t due to insecurity, very much. Scars had practically drowned his skin — most being burns from a certain traumatic experience. This was covered with his clothing, however, so no attention was drawn to him this way.
His horns however, were torn off his head, now being two stumps of what they used to be. This was also hidden with his helmet. Yet, not even he remembers what his horns used to look like. To add, not many were fond of the phighter due to his job either.
“Oh, I forgot that was today,” he spoke, reaching over for his helmet on his nightstand.
Upon his voice being heard, a little mewl followed from the edge of the bed, the animal seemingly taking a stretch at the moment. Only then did it trot over to Hyperlaser, sitting beside him happily.
“Good morning, Princess,” he smiled slightly to himself, still tired, “I’ll feed you in a moment, I know. I just need to get my stuff on.”
After giving his cat a few scratches, the mercenary threw the blanket off of him, Princess following his movements by turning her head in his direction. He stumbled over to his window, drawing his curtains open, but was only met with the heavy snowfall of the faction.
‘How endearing,’ he gave a huff, before turning over to his closet to grab his clothes for work. As he was doing so, he heard the faint, repetitive, and hasty buzzing from his night stand. Nonetheless, he walked into his bathroom to change.
The happily-spoiled feline followed behind him, stopping at the bathroom door as she waited for Hyperlaser to reappear.
It was when he had tried to take off his shirt that he realized the helmet was preventing him from doing so. Stopping, he took a moment to stare into the reflection of the bathroom mirror, met with the same dark stare of the dull head-wear. Reaching up towards the back of his neck, he slowly undid the latch, and unlocked it.
He took a moment to pause before lifting it, prior to him looking away from the glass. He faced the tiled flooring instead. He couldn’t bear to look at himself. Never again, and never to anyone else. His own face would haunt him, a result of his own stupidity from years before.
'What if it looked worse than before?'
He couldn't remember how he looked before it even happened. He didn’t know if the person who had stood there — just years ago — was even there anymore. The person who had laughed, had loved, had known what it was like to feel proud of his own image. If he had to, he wouldn’t know what to tell that boy from years ago. He wouldn’t know how to explain how the entirety of his life was ruined within a few minutes. A life full of dreams and people. Where was that now?
The air hit his face uncomfortably as he lifted his helmet, reaching forward to feel around for the sink’s ledge. It wasn’t as if he could see his own reflection in the first place, due to how bad his vision was, yet the thought itself had caused him discomfort. He set his helmet down onto the edge, the cold marble grazing the back of his fingers for just a moment.
As he stood up straight to change into his outfit, he couldn’t help but feel as if his vision had worsen every time he had taken his helmet off. He couldn’t see the tiled floor normally without having to crouch down. He didn’t know what to make of it. The mercenary simply began to change into his uniform, trying to act oblivious to the situation in front of him. Yet, it felt as if he were aware of everything around him, and damn, was it overwhelming.
There was an urge to look up. Not to look at himself, though; the scarred, beaten-apart soldier, who was torn apart by whatever Gods that had made him, and then carelessly sewn back together…but to slam a fist into the broken mirror placed in front of him. Both of the broken mirrors, if he could. That would be an unnecessary way to get his feelings out, he reminded.
He reached up, slowly, with trembling fingers, and slid the helmet back on, hiding his face once more. As the cold metal settled against his head, it was as though the world outside ceased to exist, just for a moment. It was a lot more calming. He didn’t have to see anymore. He didn’t have to remember what he had become.
Maybe, just maybe, if he never looked again, he could pretend he had never changed. That he wasn’t lost. He was still that soldier before it happened. Nothing went wrong, and he had not been that young inphernal on the battlefield that very day. That he wasn’t the inphernal who was at the wrong place during the wrong time. The one who didn’t deserve to watch his friends and comrades die, along with his own dreams and ambitions.
Unfortunately for Hyperlaser, he was still that young soldier. That young soldier who goofed off with his comrades during battles. The chaotic troublemaker, unaware of the consequences he would have on hundreds of people in the future. The kid who didn’t care about the future, never had a single nightmare, and all of his friends and family still loved him the same as they had always. He had it all, and now, it was almost if he had nothing.
Sometimes, he wished that raging fire had finished him off completely. If he had never existed to begin with.
A small mewl interrupted his thoughts, Hyperlaser abruptly turning to the bathroom door. There was a gentle scratching against the hard-wood. He didn’t know if Princess could sense if he was having one of those moments once again, trying to get into the bathroom to calm him down, or if she was just hungry. But, it was a nice thought that comforted the mercenary for a moment.
He quickly went to change out of his pants before walking over to the door, greeted by a small Princess sitting in the doorway.
The cat stood up, rubbing her head against her owner’s leg before looking up at him once again. Hyperlaser knelt down, opening his arms for Princess to jump into, and then walked into the kitchen to feed them both.
He didn’t have a table in the kitchen—for it was normally just him and his cat—and the man never had anyone over in the first place. Due to that, Hyperlaser just ate at his stove on a chair. He was fully aware about how pathetic it was, but simply didn’t care.
He walked over to the kitchen cabinet, grabbed a bag of cat kibble, and poured it into Princess’s bowl. The feline eagerly dropped out of his arms and trotted over to it. She simply dump her head into the kibble to eat it, earning a small chuckle from the inphernal that fed her.
It was that moment when he heard an abrupt banging at his door, the sound seemingly continuing without stopping.
You would think a knock on the door would stop at the third or fourth knock, but this one just kept repeatedly going until Hyperlaser would get the door. Whoever or what it was, he thought it must’ve been a child or something, since no one just continuously pounds on someone’s door.
“Who the hell,” he murmured to himself, Princess perking her head up at the door. Since she was busy eating though, she didn’t walk over to the door, leaving Hyperlaser to do that job on his own.
Groaning, the man stood up from his seat in the kitchen, feeling as if the sound was getting progressively louder the longer he took to get to the door. He had to clumsily step over the piles of clothing and trash in order to get there, almost tripping over a random clothing iron on his floor, but managed to catch himself before he face-planted.
The environment he lived in wasn’t very clean, since the mercenary had never found motivation to clean his home. Again, he didn’t have anyone over at all anymore, so he didn’t find reason in needing to clean it. Due to this, there were stacks of clothing and trash all over the living room floor, continuing to the hallway.
Opening the door, he glared at the inphernal who was, very rudely, interrupting his morning. Hyperlaser wasn’t surprised to see who was causing all the ruckus, however, just silently staring at the other.
Somehow, the other man was just standing there in the heavy snowfall, one arm completely exposed to the chilling cold as he posed awkwardly. It didn’t take long for Hyperlaser to realize how he was also staring up at the man in silence, the situation now starting to get awkward.
He doubted the other ever felt awkward in his life, for the man had too much pride he showed off.
“...Subsp–”
“Hyperlaser, do you not look at your phone?! I had to take it upon myself to walk up to this forsakened-looking abode to even have a conversation with you!”
He looked over Hyperlaser’s shoulder, not caring if he was found rude by the other.
"Gods, do you even clean this place? It’s filthy and depressing. Certainly a reflection of yourself.”
It was bold for someone like Subspace to insult how clean his home was, when Hyperlaser couldn’t even stand staying six-feet close to the man without being able to smell that awful stench. He had just narrowed his eyes, aware that the visor hid this expression, and internally sighed.
“You do not take showers, Subspace.”
The pink-horned phighter gasped, slightly offended, “Well, excuse you, sir. I, Subspace T. Mine, have a skin condition where I can’t wash myself! At least I have a reason why I can’t keep myself clean.”
“Just get…” he trailed off, sighing a second time, “what do you want from me.”
Subspace pulled out his phone, practically shoving the device into Hyperlaser’s visor, which made his helmet’s visual-system go haywire for a moment.
“Since someone doesn't look at his phone, I need you to go drive me to the Phights today! We were humbly summoned by Blackrock to represent our faction, if you did not read that message either.”
He was confused on why Subspace would ask him to drive him to the Phights. There were lots of other transportation systems in Blackrock, were there not? If Subspace had walked to Hyperlaser’s home within that short period of time, why didn't the scientist just...walk to the Phights?
“Can you not take the bus?” he starting silently wishing for the other to scram.
“Indeed I could,” he admitted, “yet the other day, I saw that wondrous bike you were riding to get to the Phights, and I wanted to see it up-close for myself! I didn’t even think you could ride one, since you seem to be such a nervous-wreck. I would think you'd purposely drive off a bridge at this point...”
The scientist just shoved Hyperlaser out of the doorway, entering the home as if he owned it. Subspace started looking for the door to the garage.
He yelled from the other side of the abode, “Plus, who wouldn’t want to help the magnificent scientist of Blackrock out?! You should feel honored, Hyperlaser!”
“It would be an honor if you could leave my house,” he murmured, walking after the insufferable phighter before he would break something.
After a minute of stepping over mountains of clothing, actively avoiding the household’s terrifying and ferocious beast (Princess), and saying ‘encouraging’ — encouraging was the best way to put it — words to Hyperlaser, Subspace had found the door to his co-worker’s garage.
“Ah, there’s that beauty!!” he exclaimed, turning back to Hyperlaser, yet he was only to be met with the helmet of grim.
The pink-horned inphernal practically felt the unwelcoming vibe stabbing him like a thousand-knives through the helmet. This, of course and however, did not daunt Subspace, for he simply cleared his throat.
“Cheer up, and get on the bike. If your face was any more lifeless, Hyperlaser, it would be a crime scene."
“....”
“Chop-chop.”
The pair eventually got settled onto the bike, Hyperlaser wanting to die internally with every second he spent with the scientist. He had a strong dislike for his co-worker, maybe even hatred. The other just gave off a lot of feelings of danger and trouble towards Hyperlaser.
Usually, Hyperlaser would find him laughing maniacally in the labs. Subspace could just be microwaving a burrito in the microwave and the inphernal would be cackling as if he stole a lollipop from a new spawn. Hyperlaser didn’t even want to get started on the annoying amount of Biografts the phighter had produced, for those things were the equality to hell when it came to Phights. He was glad that a Biograft didn’t have to come with the two as well, since he wouldn’t be able to handle its loud screeching of metal and despair.
“So you get head safety and I don’t?”
“I don’t have another helmet for you, Subspace,” he lied.
“Ugh — doesn’t matter anymore — just drive already!!” the other commanded, gripping Hyperlaser’s shoulders with his hands. The action caused one of the antennas on Hyperlaser’s helmet to twitch out of annoyance.
He couldn’t bear to think what Subspace had touched with those infested hands of his, but he was certain that he’d be washing his current outfit an extra time once he got home. Despite the man having loads of littered clothes around his household, he was surely motivated to clean this one after the other had touched it.
The mercenary started up the bike, kicking the side while it shook. A blue light suddenly, yet quickly, traced the edges of the seat and its outer, the wheels also wiring to life with the light.
Hyperlaser loved his bike, for it gave him a sense of enjoyment while speeding through the landscapes of Blackrock, the snow raining onto his visor. He tapped the screen below the handles, displaying the power that the bike had. The vehicle was solar-powered, and it seemed that it still had some charge left within it, though he noted that he would need to leave it out to charge after this ride.
He leaned forward, pressing a button on his keys for the garage door to lift open, before he sped out on the hyperbike with the garage door then closing behind them. He could feel Subspace’s hands uncomfortably tightening around his chest, the scientist being spooked at the amount of speed they started out with.
“GAH—!! Be more sympathetic to your passenger and go at a slower speed, please?!”
Hyperlaser was a patient man. Very patient. But when it came to Subspace, he felt like beating the other's face into the back of his head. Hearing his voice was just as bad as listening to fingernails scratching against a chalkboard. Yet, he had to remind himself of his position compared to Subspace’s.
Silently annoyed once again, Hyperlaser managed to keep his composure and slow down to a speed of Subspace’s liking. He could barely handle his co-worker’s bickering. To add, the mercenary tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of Subspace’s arms rubbing against the burns underneath his clothing, for he needed to drive.
The two sped past the town of Blackrock, passing by all sorts of structures and homes, yet it was hard to tell the difference from each of the homes and buildings. The mountains’ icy peaks were flooded to the brim with snow while he drove over its roads.
Oddly enough, there were barely any vehicles on the road, the biker noticing inphernals walk around or have their own jobs to get to. Sure, he saw a few children playing in the snow here and there, but the streets were empty, if you would exclude those young inphernals.
The snowfall was peaceful at the moment, which was all the soldier really cared about. He liked the snowfall, and it was better than having to drive through another huge blizzard just to get to some Phighting ground that he didn’t even want to be at.
“Can you speed up, please?” Subspace suddenly blurted, “You’re driving way too slow for my pace.”
It took all of Hyperlaser’s willpower to not drive off the railing of the bridge they were over, his antennas lowering in annoyance.
“What?” he yelled again, taking offense. He felt insulted that his co-worker was annoyed by him, and that only filled his need to pester him further.
“You told me to slow down five minutes ago.”
“Well, now I want you to speed up!! So, do so already.”
“Stop screaming into my ear. You’re right behind me.”
“What did you say?!”
“I said—”
“WHAT?!”
Hyperlaser audibly groaned, his hands gripping the handles of his bike tighter. He decided to shut up in order to rest his poor ears whilst leaning to the right to steer. He began to think to himself again about how today’s Phight would happen.
As long as he was on a team that didn't include either Subspace or a Biograft, he thought he would be fine. He didn’t desire either of them to be yelling at him during a match again. However, that did mean that he would probably have to fend off the Biograft the entire round… Maybe he would be on a team with some of his acquaintances from Thieves' Den, but, that’s not what was on his mind anymore.
He thought of him again.
A swordsman from Thieves' Den, to be exact.
Katana was his name. The two met at a bar when Hyperlaser was at a low point, drinking his problems off. Katana had watched him sit down, and simply asked him if he was alright.
Hyperlaser didn’t think their meeting would branch into a friendship, however. The only real reason that the mercenary even goes to the Phights — when not commanded to — was just to see him again. He’d seen the man there often for training. Katana was always trying to better himself at his gear, which baffled Hyperlaser, since he considered Katana the best to handle his gear instead of himself.
He didn’t think of him intentionally — never intentionally. He'd just showed up in his mind, like he always did. He always appeared in the prettiest things, either that being the flower fields he rode past, or even the most serene of lights in Crossroads.
The snow reminded him of a night a few weeks ago, where it started to snow incredibly hard during their walk through Blackrock. He recalled how they sheltered in a coffee shop, laughing about how much snow the red-horned inphernal had on him once they got inside. Even if they were both soaked to the bone, they were smiling together, the miserable weather outside not daunting their moment at all.
He softly smiled to himself, his heart fluttering slightly as he leaned to the left to steer. Thinking about Katana helped distract him from how Subspace was clinging onto him from behind, and it helped ease his mind about the burns on his chest being painful to the touch.
Katana was his acquaintance, or, his friend. He liked friend better — his closest friend. His only friend, other than his cat, if he were being honest with himself. The one who really listened to his troubles while he spoke. The one who remembered how much Hyperlaser should drink before he got drunk again. The one who remembered to look away whenever Hyperlaser had to lift his helmet off.
He ran his thumb against the handle of the bike, feeling the texture of the rubber through the fabric of his glove. Hyperlaser knew he shouldn’t be getting so close to someone despite his job as a mercenary…but Katana was someone he couldn’t help but admire so deeply. The samurai mended a few things in his heart that he didn’t think could be mended at all — even if it were only temporary. He wished he could express all of his appreciation for the swordsman, but he had so many different feelings at once that he didn’t know how to express it. Hyperlaser was quite awkward when it came to social interactions, but the other seemed to be fond of that awkwardness.
Katana always noticed something about him, and pointed it out. Whether Hyperlaser was in a better mood than the day before, or if he wore the same outfit from five days ago. If he decided to sit two seats away from the seat he usually sat at in at the bar. If he was out for a walk at an earlier time than usual.
Pfft, who even notices something like that?'
He did.
He always noticed things.
He was always just…there. There, with Hyperlaser. And somehow, thinking about it, that was more terrifying than comforting.
Because what if he wasn’t there one day?
What would that mean for Hyperlaser if he wasn’t?
He shook his head, trying to get that unwelcoming thought out of his head, then blinked hard. He already had his moment in the bathroom, and he wouldn’t want to go down that rabbit hole a second time today.
Still…he wondered if the other was thinking about him too.
“...This is the most emotion I’ve seen from you in a long time, and yet, I can’t even see your face,” the scientist suddenly interrupted, his eyes narrowed at the mercenary as he stared over his shoulder.
Hyperlaser was spooked by the sudden statement, having to steady the hyperbike for a moment. He was suddenly aware of how cold the air was, the placing of his feet on the bike, and the wheels driving over the snowed asphalt of the road. He just hoped that he wasn’t talking out loud by accident, briskly sitting up as he realized his current situation once again.
“What are you implying?”
“Just keep driving, Hyperlaser.”