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Something unspoken hangs around the atmosphere of the Korblox Administration.
Subspace had began to notice it more recently as the Rot crept further along his skin and dug deeper into his flesh.
His lab becomes suspicously quiet. Lately, there has been less bumbling interns sent to his office to hand him messages from the higher-ups. None of coworkers ever stop by anymore to scope out their competition, neither do his bosses to check on the progress he has made on his latest task.
Meetings pass in a daze, where he was once an active participant, allowed to sit proudly by his superiors' side, Subspace now is hardly able to get a singular word in, passed over as just another hand in a sea of them. His word doesn't seem to hold any authority anymore, his ideas simply suggestions instead of first choice.
Even on the rare occasion he ventures from his lab, where others used to ogle him, now he's lucky if he's even acknowledged, only spared a pitied glance - or worse, squinted at in a poor attempt to nitpick his robotic suit.
He sees how the higher-ups barely glance over him. Now, they avoid looking him in the eyes as they adress him, something that Subspace used to boast about as a sign they held him in high esteem. When he does manage to catch their eyes, it's not even filled with the approval he always searches for.
They stare right through him, as if he was nothing more than a ghost.
It is something unspoken amongst the Korblox officials - but he understands exactly what it is.
In their eyes, Subspace is already dead.
As soon as the official diagnosis for his condition was released, he had been a lost cause. Reduced to an expiration date. A draining hourglass the higher-ups couldn't wait to shelf.
They have been silently preparing for the day he finally drops dead so that his position could be easily handed off to the next Inphernal.
It makes him furious, and yet, he does not blame them.
The Korblox Administration's main goal was bettering Blackrock for the future. In the everchanging environment of their ranks, there was no room for Inphernals who did not hold their weight. If an asset was no longer of benefit to Blackrock, they were simply removed to make way for younger, fresher minds.
Subspace knows he is close to being one of those Inphernals who are considered a waste of valuable space and tossed aside. Still, he does not blame the higher-ups.
It is an efficient method in the grand scheme of Blackrock's future, after all.
No, the obvious culprit was that damn doctor. If that backstabbing worm hadn't disfigured his face and arm, restricting him from blooming into his true potential, none of his superiors would even think of replacing him! If only he would show his cowardly face around, Subspace would be thrilled to personally hand him over directly to Korblox leadership.
It was only a matter of time until they could find someone who could do his job faster, better, and more importantly who wasn't a walking biohazard.
Someone who wasn't a failure.
He couldn't - wouldn't let that happen. To let some snobby, pampered newspawn be the cause for his expulsion? It would be pathetic, laughable! He wouldn't ever be able to live it down. He refuses to even stomach the idea.
Subspace will show them - he'll prove to them all that he's not just a living corpse, waiting for complete decay. He'll drag that traitor all the way back to Blackrock by his horns if he has to! Once he is cured of the wretched, so-called terminal disease that limits his capabilities, they'll all marvel at his brilliance!
And then everyone will know and respect the name Subspace T. Mine.