Chapter Text
The offices in Blackrock were always cold, and it was no surprise, given that the faction the company belonged to was known for its harsh conditions and unending winters. The minimalist interior, dim lighting in the corridors, and iron equipment all screamed for you to get out of there as soon as possible.
But not everyone is so fortunate; some are born here, with no right to change their fate or have a choice, like a factory producing robots that, over time, lose their value: they become costly and are replaced by newer, more convenient models.
Medkit felt like one of those robots. Moreover, he was convinced that if his group were to be disbanded, he would be the first to go. This was something one of his guardians had mentioned, seemingly trying to stimulate his motivation to keep reporting on himself and working harder; otherwise, Blackrock would crush him without a second thought. This didn't so much "motivate" Medkit as it fueled his paranoia and constant fear, causing him to work late into the night when all his colleagues were already asleep in the dormitories.
It wasn't that he didn't like engineering—no, no—but with each passing day, he found himself spending longer hours in the lab, and the dark circles under his eyes grew more pronounced.
He was similar to, yet different from, his colleague and unfortunately, roommate. Subspace Trip Mine. One of the best and most promising employees of Group A, as well as the most annoying and brazen person Medkit had ever had to deal with. If in the lab, during their joint projects, he could still focus on work, throwing only short phrases at Trip Mine, then in the dormitory, every day felt like a trial—at least for Medkit.
Subspace could simply shut the door of their room and fall asleep if Medkit stayed late at work, forcing him to get the keys from the guard to avoid sleeping in the hallway. No morning passed without remarks or jabs from Subspace, which over time turned into verbal sparring matches, as if he deliberately wanted to provoke a reaction from Medkit. Or perhaps he wanted Medkit to get so angry that he would leave—Subspace openly stated that he did not wish to have any close relationships with other inphernals.
And you could say it almost worked: on one such day, Medkit lost his temper and went to administration to file a request for a roommate change or at least to get another room. But the administration just shook their heads and shrugged, claiming that personal relationships among dorm residents were not their concern, as they already had too much work. Moreover, there were no free rooms at the moment. This was bad news for both of them. There was nothing to be done—they had to maintain this "cohabitation."
The first few weeks felt like a test of Medkit's endurance, but over time, Subspace grew tired of being the constant instigator of their quarrels, so he simply ignored him, casting sarcastic glances in Medkit's direction instead. Regardless, it didn't really matter to either of them—why waste time and energy on pointless conflicts?
Their routine developed slowly. The first compromise they reached was that each would use only their half of the room. No item should be on the other’s territory, and ideally, the neighbor should not approach his side. The arrangement was decent but had its downsides, such as the window in the room—it was located on Subspace's side. Their bedroom was quite small, which often left Medkit feeling short of air. The window was at the foot of Subspace's bed, making the task even more complicated. Of course, Medkit tried to open it while Subspace was sleeping, but that devil in pajamas seemed to sense a threat nearby even in his sleep and would wake up, forcing Medkit back to his side. Still, sometimes Medkit managed to air out the room, though he always faced morning reproaches for it.
The kitchen—oh. When Medkit first decided to cook something by himself (which already sounded like a bad idea), the entire kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom smelled like burnt mush from the now-charred frying pan. He was lucky he used his own kitchen utensils; otherwise, Subspace would have truly wrung his neck on the spot. So he was forbidden to cook anything—and that was the only condition Medkit fully agreed to.
Of course, they didn’t always stick to the rules; they quarreled over trivial matters and often mentioned how wonderful it would be if each of them could just move far away. But silence was scarier. As much as they both wanted to deny it, they no longer wished for change—not out of attachment but rather out of… an unwillingness for upheaval? Perhaps that was the only thing connecting them.
And while Medkit could somewhat agree to a change in roommate (since protocol didn’t allow employees personal apartments and having at least one roommate was mandatory to avoid unnecessary costs and uneven occupancy), Subspace could not. He couldn’t stand Medkit but adapting to another idiot? No way; he preferred things as they were.
Medkit was a very organized inphernal, and perhaps this trait was one of the few things that kept him in check. He always needed just one alarm clock ring to fully wake up and start his morning routine. Despite the fact that Subspace was also well-organized, waking up was much harder for him. Medkit never woke him up; he had other things to do, it seemed. However, he didn’t expect to receive a couple of sharp remarks in the morning, like: “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!” or “You think you’re so smart, but you couldn’t figure out to wake me up?” and so on. Yet somehow, Subspace was never late.
To be honest, the choice between “to wake him up or not” was no different from choosing between two chairs. Living with his neighbor felt like living with an angry cat. If you didn’t feed it, it was unhappy; if you did feed it, it was still unhappy; if you petted it, it remained unhappy too. So there were no other paths for him but to accept it.
What else Medkit noticed about his neighbor was that he always ate alone. By noon, when all employees were supposed to have lunch, Medkit either sat alone or in a pair with Grav and Warp. But Subspace always ate either at his workstation or in their common room—far away from the others. However, in recent months, he had often started sitting next to Medkit and chatting non-stop or teasing him.
Honestly, it felt as if Subspace’s very existence aimed to deliberately drive Medkit crazy. And it did, more than once. Over time, Medkit began to see it differently— Subspace didn’t get close to anyone else like that, let alone allowed anyone else near him. Moreover, he specifically chose to come to him. Why was he doing this? Oh, if only Medkit understood.
Could it be just for fun? That sounded silly. Subspace didn’t like wasting time for no reason, and who would intentionally ruin their own mood? At some point, Medkit caught himself thinking that Subspace simply didn’t know how to communicate any other way except through sharp comments. By dedicating all his time to work, distancing himself from everyone, and spending all his time alone, social interactions were alien to him. Medkit didn’t excuse his behavior and certainly didn’t tolerate it. Over time, however, they managed to find a "golden mean" in their relationship.
Tonight’s evening was no different from the previous ones. The only exception was that Medkit was staying in the lab later than usual because he was having a discussion with one of the higher-ups. His interlocutor was slightly taller than him, dressed in a classic suit with a black tie, bright yellow horns on his head, and a raised smile. It couldn’t really be called a discussion; rather, it was more of a lecture or monologue from the other side. Medkit simply stayed silent and listened, occasionally nodding or throwing in a single phrase, after which the other continued talking about a new topic.
As much as the medic wanted to return to his room and sleep soundly (it was exactly 10 PM), he couldn't just leave or interrupt his interlocutor: that would not only be unethical but also very rude towards such an important personnel. In Blackrock, such behavior was punished. The medic merely sighed and continued to listen, lowering his gaze to the tiled floor of the laboratory.
"Thus, we have what we have now—all thanks to our system, proven over decades! Do you understand what I’m talking about?" the interlocutor said with a slight smile, addressing the medic.
"Mhm." He weakly nodded, still looking at the cold floor.
"Alright! We seem to have lingered." The interlocutor glanced at his watch and approached the medic, placing a hand on his shoulder.
The medic lifted his head and looked at the face before him with wide eyes. To say he was in shock would be an understatement.
"You, my friend, are one of the important and valuable employees of our company. You see, the medical field has suffered significantly due to the special attention given to heavy industry. We place our hopes on you; you are the precious future of our company. I hope you won’t let us down, right?" he asked, still maintaining a routine smile on his face.
An invisible yet palpable tension hung in the air of the laboratory. The medic felt the hand on his shoulder grow heavier, as if it were a weight keeping him in place so he couldn’t escape. He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor again.
"Yes, of course," he blurted out, not raising his gaze; he could feel as if they were seeing right through him.
"Wonderful! Keep it up!" A chuckle escaped from the interlocutor's lips as he patted the other on the shoulder. "Let’s hope that in the future there will be more dedicated employees like you in our company. Good night." With those words, the infernal left the laboratory, leaving the medic with a gnawing sense of emptiness.
He didn’t want this. Neither the future nor himself in it. Did he even have any future aside from being a cog in this machine? His whole life was planned out with work and obligations. What was there to say? He didn’t even know what he wanted.
Pressing his hand to his forehead, he tried to concentrate. Yes, it was already dark night—it was time for him to go to sleep and cast all unnecessary thoughts out of his head. He was just tired. Right? He hoped Subspace hadn’t locked the door before his arrival.
---
A quiet creak of the door sounded, and a faint beam of light from the hallway penetrated the dark room. After entering and confirming that the door was not locked, Medkit exhaled. He felt a slight chill in the room; it seemed it had been aired out recently. His gaze stopped on the sleeping figure lying with its back to him. The neighbor's bed was directly opposite his, so the "latecomer" acted as quietly as possible to avoid waking the other. After removing and hanging up his white coat, as well as taking off his shoes and work clothes, Med lay down on the bed, which resembled a hospital cot more than anything else, and stared at the ceiling.
They placed their hopes on him?.. What do they even expect from him? What should he prepare for? And what if he doesn’t meet their expectations? Thoughts tangled together, weaving into a complex knot that prevented him from closing his eyes peacefully. But, unfortunately or fortunately, his internal debate was interrupted, bringing him back from the moon to Earth:
"Where have you been?" - the demon with pink horns unexpectedly broke the silence.
Medkit turned around: now the neighbor was looking him straight in the face, still lying on his bed.
"Where have you been?!"
"None of your business.Go to sleep."
"Oh no, it’s very much my business, unless you want to find yourself out the door again!" - Subspace, wearing a black tank top and shorts, sat up slightly in bed, eagerly awaiting explanations.
"You came home late - that's not like you! You're our very picture of 'organization.' "
The demon with pink horns noticed that his neighbour was ignoring him, turning away and trying to fall asleep, which prompted him to get up and yank the blanket off him.
"What the hell do you want from me?!" - Medkit's patience was already wearing thin.
"Explanations." - Subspace replied firmly, still holding the blanket in his hands.
The medic rubbed his nose. Subspace was unbearable with his stubbornness; if he had any strength left to continue arguing, he would have resorted to it, but right now Medkit just wanted to pass out on his pillow.
"If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?! I was held up! Like I wanted to sit in the lab until midnight listening to someone else's lectures. Now give me back the blanket and leave me alone at least for tonight!" - Medkit almost reached for the blanket from Subspace's hands, but he quickly pulled it away, switching it to the other hand.
"What were you talking about?" - Subspace looked thoughtfully at him. What could possibly be discussed with him? How did someone like Medkit even get the chance to speak with one of the leading specialists when there were more deserving replacements?
"You’ll get yourself in trouble one day." - Medkit snatched the blanket from Subspace's hands and lay back down on his bed, completely ignoring the gaze of the other. Subspace merely snorted at this and returned to his side.
"Don’t think you’re off the hook so easily; we’ll talk in the morning."
"Oh, shut up already." - Any noise got on Medkit's nerves. He finally managed to lie comfortably and sighed with relief.
"Good night." - Med said quietly and calmly as he closed his eyes.
All that could be heard from the neighboring bed was quiet ticking.
---
He couldn't fall asleep. No matter how comfortably he lay or what methods he tried to combat his insomnia, nothing helped. He was tormented by hunger. He had completely forgotten to have dinner when he returned, simply wanting to pass out from exhaustion. For a few more minutes, he contemplated whether to get up or wait until morning. Leaning toward the second option, he tried to sleep again. To no avail. This irritated him. In the end, he got up and headed to the kitchen, whether he would wake his neighbour or not was no longer a concern.
He approached the refrigerator with slow steps and reached for the metal handle. When the glossy door opened and cold air blew on his face, he saw nothing but pills, oil, and some leftover chopped herbs. Of course, why not make this day even worse? It was midnight, the cafeteria was already closed by that time, and there was only one option left – the pantry.
The pantry was a separate room across from the accounting office, used only by staff and senior students, and fortunately, Medkit belonged to the latter category. After rummaging through a drawer, he finally pulled out a keycard that he hadn't used before. A slight smile flickered across his face as he quickly threw on a jacket, quietly opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
It would be unpleasant to encounter anyone on his way, especially superiors, so Med periodically looked around to ensure that no one would notice him. The pantry was located on the third floor – just one floor above their room – but the corridors in the building were long and sometimes resembled mazes. The journey was short: after climbing one of the staircases leading to the upper floor, Medkit reached the third floor and pulled out the keycard, holding it up to the terminal. There was a quiet click, and the door opened silently.
When Medkit turned the doorknob, he was greeted by a damp smell of wood. Due to the technological revolution in Blackrock, old buildings had been renovated, but some, like this pantry, still carried remnants of the past. Barely finding the switch, which was almost right next to the refrigerator, he heard a click. The room was illuminated by an old incandescent bulb that cast a warm light over the narrow space. Surprisingly, everything was relatively sterile and orderly in the small room. Closing the door behind him, Medkit stepped inside.
The pantry had two small refrigerators, two overhead cabinets, and one large metal shelf. Rummaging through the cabinets, he found grains, pasta, and some spices. Regular pasta would be enough for him, so he took out one container and closed the cabinet door. After considering that plain boiled pasta wouldn't be very appetizing, he tried to remember if they had any oil left in their room but quickly dismissed that idea since it was much more likely to find machine oil in their refrigerator than a basic food supply. Searching through the refrigerator and cutting off a small piece onto a plate found in the adjacent cabinet, he grabbed his "catch" and turned off the light as he headed back to his room.
The door creaked open, causing Med to curse under his breath, but fortunately, his neighbour didn't even stir. Cooking wasn't particularly difficult, which Med was very glad about; once he finished eating, he sighed with relief – finally, he could sleep peacefully. But first, he should return the container to its place. Not that it would be a big problem to return it tomorrow; it was just that Medkit didn't like to procrastinate, especially since he might forget about it later. Plus, if someone noticed that he had been rummaging through the pantry at night, it would surely tarnish his reputation. Reluctantly getting up again, he threw on his jacket and left the room.
---
After closing the pantry door and making sure everything was in its place, Med decided to take a different route down to the second floor—there wasn't much difference in which way he went. He walked slowly back, listening to the silence of the corridors and his own footsteps. At least for now... this place didn't feel so oppressive. But his thoughts were interrupted by a light coming from a distant office.
"What the hell?.. Isn't it supposed to be curfew right now?" Medkit thought to himself. His heart raced, and a cold sweat ran down his back. Even from a distance, loud, cheerful laughter could be heard from the office, which only heightened his tension rather than lifted his spirits. The antlered demon wanted to turn around and head back to his room as quickly as possible, but suddenly he heard a familiar voice.
"Our neighbors love to play tricks on us, don’t they? Well, they’re doing a pretty good job of it." Medkit recognized that voice. It belonged to the high-ranking official who had detained him in the lab. "Still just as assertive as always, ha... well, we aren't responsible for their decisions!"
Med's body froze in place, afraid to make a wrong move. Suddenly, another voice came from the room:
"So, there won't be a peaceful resolution to the conflict with Playground?"
Wait. Hold on. What conflict are they talking about?!
"Not to say that we initially had a plan for a peaceful agreement, but our 'highly esteemed' neighbors decided everything for us. Great. It’s even easier this way." Then there was a dull thud, presumably of a folder or book.
The interlocutor let out a deep sigh.
"If you don’t mind, could you please explain the current situation in more detail, Mr. ⏹︎⏹︎⏹︎⏹︎⏹︎?"
The sound of a spoon clinking against a cup, likely intended for tea, could be heard before it was placed on the table.
"Oh, where to begin?" It was clear that the guest in the room had sat down in an office chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. "To put it briefly—it's a struggle for resources." The speaker let out a light chuckle.
"More details," replied the interlocutor, his tone carrying a cold seriousness.
Before starting, the narrator took a light breath. "As much as we might try to deny it, our company is in decline," he began. "Of course, the statistics don't openly show this, but we are carefully hiding the growing deficit of resources, raw materials, and supplies for advancing our faction. Simply put — an economic collapse." The storyteller took a sip of tea from his mug before continuing in a more serious voice. "But that's just part of the problem. As we know, the relationship between the Playground and the Black Rock has never been easy, especially considering the number of wars in the past. The deficit is not only being felt by us but by all of Inferno. Thus begins the struggle for survival."
For a moment, silence fell, but it did not last long.
"So there exists a 'casus' that led to the current conflict?" suggested the interlocutor.
"And you catch on quickly, my dear friend! Yes, that's precisely the case, or rather, it revolves around this point." A rustling of paper was heard. "The Cave of Swords is one of the richest caves located on the northern mountain ridge. They say there are crystals reaching up to 2 meters!" chuckled the infernal.
"So it turns out it's about the crystals..."
"Bingo! These crystals are our chance to lift our faction off its knees. But their main value lies in their universal properties — healing, jewelry, and most importantly, energy. They say many devices have malfunctioned due to the amount of potential energy."
The interlocutor was silent for a moment before responding in a steady voice.
"Free cheese only exists in a mousetrap. If it were that simple, this place would have been robbed long ago. So there is something you aren't telling me," he emphasized.
"I like you very much, my dear friend," smirked the other. "But yes, you're right — there are reasons why this place has retained its value." The sound of a cabinet shifting and the rustling of paper was heard; apparently, the map was being returned to the drawer.
"There are several reasons: first — the ridge is located 1500 meters above our location, which already gives us an idea of the climate there. Considering that even here the weather conditions are a primary cause of mortality in our region," the infernal began to pace around the office and continued,
"The second reason — access to the foot of the ridge, as about one-quarter of the 'path' to it is occupied by the Crimson Forest, which is deadly for any infernal due to high levels of chemical emissions from a nuclear accident. The third — access to the crystals is located 120 meters below the surface. And the fourth and final reason — the Cave of Swords is an uncontrolled territory, meaning it does not belong to any faction. Even our great ancestors and contemporaries have only 44% reliable information about this territory through joint efforts with other states. I think I don't even need to mention the mortality rate in that area."
At that moment, silence fell between the participants of the conversation.
“So the main reason for the conflict is survival? But who are we planning to send on such a difficult operation?” one of the officials asked.
After pondering for a moment, the interlocutor came to an answer:
“Obviously, due to the aging population, sending older people is quite a risky business, don’t you think? We need healthy young guys who are full of life and strength. We’ll take young graduates and seniors from each sector.” – and at that moment Medkit's heart stopped.
“Madness! Sending young guys who haven’t even seen the sun on such a dangerous expedition! Have you lost your mind?! And how does this guarantee us that we won’t fall even lower, considering we might lose new workers?” – the infernal was furious at the absurdity of such a proposal.
“And how does sending those who have already outlived their usefulness guarantee success?” – the official smirked. “The previous two operations ended in disgrace, tarnishing our reputation and yielding no productivity. We can’t risk it again.”
“So right now we’re not taking risks?!”
“Maybe. But in any case, the success rate is much higher if we send healthy young guys there.”
A deep sigh was heard.
“I will think about this proposal. I can only approve it in case of unavoidable circumstances; for now, we cannot take such a responsibility, especially…” – he hesitated – “…we cannot allow attempts at escape and numerous betrayals from the youth.”
“Agreed.”
A click of a switch and the office plunged into darkness, after which two officials in business suits exited. They glanced around but noticed no one. Good. It meant no one else had heard this conversation.
—
Medkit couldn’t even breathe normally lying on his bed; panic engulfed him, and he began to suffocate. He tried to calm himself and pulled his knees to his chest, gulping for air. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to suppress the sobs that escaped his mouth. His whole face burned, hair stuck to his face from the humidity, and his body trembled from fear and panic.
They would send them to certain death. They had nowhere to go. They had NO choice.
Medkit pulled the blanket over himself, trying to warm up, as he felt cold from sweat, or perhaps he just wanted to hide from everything and forget where he lived.
He didn’t want tomorrow to come. He wasn’t looking forward to morning.
But even here they had no choice.