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He felt confined to the bed.
Pain flourished through his arm and chest, slowly trickling to the hollow socket where his eye once resided. His rot aching in an all too familiar way; where it clung to the skin and ate it for its own personal hunger. It deteriorated cell by cell, turning what was once soft skin into pink, peeling flesh. The dry flakes falling onto the sheets, as if trying to mimic the petals of the dead rose.
It felt disgusting.
The room, no doubt, stunk of flesh that was rotting from the inside out. He couldn't stop it if he tried. No scent could replace the overwhelming stench of death that he carried. If anything it made it worse. Because of course it did! In case you didn't know, trying to mix a floral perfume that lingered on the body for multiple hours at a time (that was already somewhat overwhelming to the senses) with unclean, dead, decomposing skin could cause people to have nausea; to which anyone who walked by would start to gag. So you may as well reap what you sow-! Or... Are stuck with. He wouldn't have reaped having this damn illness if could have helped it.
The pain killers were slowly becoming ineffective. There were a numerous amount of reasons as to why. Whether it be because his bodies immune system was failing him and blood wasn't flowing correctly through his veins. Or perhaps it was due to overuse. After all, pesticides become useless to the bugs the kill after a while, whose to say he isn't in a similar predicament. Although that was because the bugs typically reproduce and have a random gene pop up and make them stronger. Which is quite annoying. This was more akin to your body building up a resistance, which was surprising considering its current state. Of course the one thing this cursed carcass could do was prevent him from having any sort of peace.
He could be working.
He could be doing so much more for Korblox.
If not for the pain he was being subjected to, no doubts he would be at his lab. Working on repairs and skimming through codes. The pride and joy of those above you have fully put all their faith into his work. Knowing that he would achieve greatness. Break bounds that have never been broken before. That just as he always did, exceed their standards to a brilliant point. The results he created couldn't be done by anyone else but him. Yet here he was.
Bedrotting.
Literally.
It's funny how those young of age have come up with a term that fits him unmistakably well.
It was ironic!
He couldn't move. Not without sharp pains suddenly appearing from the moment he chose to slightly inch in another direction. Little festering needles. Parasites. Eating him. Holding him down despite not even having hands. As they continued to fester, writhing, feasting for their gain.
Disgusting...
Gamma helped to an extent. They already administered his daily medication along with a bunch of other doses of something he couldn't pronounce. He didn't want to waste his brain on trying to count the syllables between medical terms. He was to tired for that. And yet he couldn't sleep either.
There were so many things that needed to be done.
Things that would be put off tomorrow.
He would need to catch up. And he didn't like that. He was supposed to be far ahead. Not falling behind. Being in the back will never be of advantage. For the back means you're wait listed. Which means the others above you have a higher opportunity to be shine. That if they get accepted before you, there will be no applications left for you to take, no time to be seen. And if you aren't seen, you're ignored. Forgotten. Thrown away.
He knew that, he prevented that.
He refused to let that happen.
Not to him. Never to him. He was still great. He was still of good quality. He wasn't past expiration yet.
"Yet"... that was word he didn't like acknowledging in this context.
...
He hated this.
He really did.
Couldn't he get up?
Please?
The more he was here, the more he longed to work.
To do something.
Anything.
He couldn't help but give a heavy sigh through what was left of his mouth. The flesh that was his cheeks had rotted a way a long time ago, precisely two and a half years if he had remembered correctly. Taking an inhale that was far to shaky than normal, his lungs felt as though they were rattling. As if the very aspect of being a respiratory system was far to much to handle and it was trying to shut the factory that was his lungs turned off. Yet no matter what levers it pulled, or what buttons it pressed, some sort of back up generator forcibly kept it working. Causing an endless cycle of sputters and coughs. Oftentimes weird things came out of the esophagus. Chunks of flesh, pink blood, mucus. It would be gross if you weren't used to it.
Yet he was.
That's why there were wrinkled tissues on his bedstand. Covered in the disgusting substances that his body forcibly expelled. It rejected himself.
His own body, rejecting the project he made. Although to be fair, he didn't dump the chemicals onto himself. No no no, that action belonged to a certain traitor. To the gods themselves he should have done more than taken an eye. He should have done SO much more. That animal attacked him, that creature provoked him, that thing that barely deserves to be recognized as an intelligent, breathing, organism was the main cause to his suffering. For all that green bastard caused, he got away with so much. They lost an eye? Well he lost that and more! He lost the functionality of his arm, the ability to properly eat food, being able to breath without gagging up some bodily tissue. Oh poor pathetic Medkit, with such a sob story. So sad in Blackrock for not being able to take full lead in the projects. You're life must have been so miserable huh?
THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED.
YOU COULD HAVE DONE US ALL A FAVOR AND KILLED YOURSELF-!
Then at least we wouldn't have wasted such valuable resources. I told them-! I told them I was better, yet they miscalculated their investments in you... and you didn't even suffer for it. You got away... just like you wanted. Without any actual repercussions... Ran to a church for protection because you know your weak... a weak insolent coward-! If you wanted to leave so badly you should have done it sooner, than you wouldn't have been a pain. Then you wouldn't have caused this- this ROT. You could have left without doing this to me. You could have. YOU COULD HAVE-
The inner monologue was cut off by his own coughing fit. Not noticing how hard he was clenching his fists. Perhaps he had moved up slightly while being distracted within his anger. Which both caused some chest and arm pain, that in turn made his body decide it was good time to spasm.
Lovely.
...
Could he even be mad anymore? Was that of all things even to much for himself?
Was having emotions so intense really affecting his body? If so that would be pathetic.
Utterly pathetic.
The rattling of the door handle threw him off. The quite of the room that was once only filled with his thoughts had dissipated along with it.
It was probably Gamma, he sent the graft to retrieve more medicine after all.
Yet as the door creaked open, he was met not with the robotic nurse he had created, but a mercenary.
"Subspace, are you in here?" The muffled voice of Hyperlaser had annoyed him. In fact, why is he even in here? He didn't call him or anything... which was weird.
"What the hell are you doing here?! How did you even get in!? This quarters is not for slowly scum like you to enter!" He forced himself to sit up from the huddled position he was formerly in the blankets. Even when sharp pain arose, he wasn't about to be seen like that to a lowly co-worker. No. He has not stooped that low yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"Now then, you have exactly a minute to tell me how you got in my home. I don't need to explain what will happen if you don't comply. You've seen my subjects..." The passcode to his home was confidential. He gave it to no one. Also they would have to have know about the failsafe he kept... lets just say whoever didn't click the button hidden beneath the doorstopper after coming in within a 18 second time frame... currently wasn't here with us anymore.
"Calm down. That blue biograft- Gamma? Came and told me."
"Why???"
"Something about needing to deliver but also retrieve some more things. And that since I work for you I'm "qualified" to be of delivery service."
Okay... So clearly there was a huge flaw when he was coding that thing. They were not permitted to give out personal information like that. HIS information specifically. That was so stupid; he'd look into that later.
"You're still not welcome here." He didn't want the mercenary to stick around right now, they've been lingering for to long recently. And he was certain it wasn't for overtime purposes.
"Are you sick?"
"Leave."
"You didn't come to the labs today. Also I have at least three different medications on me. And so I have no clue if your supposed to take them all at once, or at a specific duration of time. I don't know how much your supposed to take so you should probably tell me."
"Listen to me-!"
"Will you be okay?"
...
Ah there it was. That stupid pity. He could tell they were starting to pity him. He didn't know when nore why. But it had slowly become a thing.
Why Hyperlaser pitied him? He didn't know. He was surprised its even happening in the first place. He was well aware how people below him viewed him as a target. Someone to be brought down and burned for their own regard. But pity? That means you feel bad for the person. It was empathetic.
And he hated it.
He didn't need to be patronized. That was weird. And very unnatural in a place like Blackrock. Where did Hyperlaser learn that behavior? He didn't know, but it should have been corrected a long time ago. It made him uncomfortable. You were not supposed to treat your employer like... that.
Their relationship was professional. He'd rather keep it that way.
Subspace gave an annoyed huff, he would rub at his temples if it didn't hurt to move so much right now and he needed to conserve energy. His remaining eye looking up to glare at the mercenary, they seemingly moved closer to him. He didn't want to think about the look behind Hyperlaser's helmet. Evaluating, assessing... belittling.
To the swords it felt unsettling-!
He refused to be looked down upon further.
Slowly he moved the covers away from his body, he wanted to stand up. But then he'd be at risk of falling. So instead he moved his legs to dangle off the mattress, the soles of his feet touching the floor.
He hated that it was cold.
Oh how Hyperlaser was lucky he didn't have the energy to lunge at him right now, and maul that face into being more disfigured that it already was.
"Do I look okay?" His voice rasped as the words left his mouth. Eye twitching slightly in annoyance.
"No."
No shit right?! So you should leave you son of-
"Precisely!" The word was faux with joy. It had an edge that he specifically added to it. Trying desperately to get his point across. "So understanding that I'm not quite in the mood to deal with you. Could you-"
"I can try and help."
...
It was for personal gain. It always was. He wasn't an idiot.
It was a really simple concept actually. Help your colleague and earn some extra bux, might as well ask for a favor while your at it!
Oh joy! He couldn't wait to be taken advantage of!
Did this... Lowly soldier really think he was that much of a fool?
No. He could see right through it. This was for beneficial profit. He may be stuck in this bed, but his brain hasn't rotted away. Not yet. He wasn't stupid. No, he was still above Hyperlaser. Ranked far higher. Better. He was better.
Better than them all.
He wouldn't be replaced.
Hyperlaser would be replaced before he would.
And that's a factor no one could deny.
He still has worth.
"Why help me?" Come on... COME ON! Spit it out. Spill the truth! You know why your doing this! Say it! Say it to his face! There is no other possible explanation! There is absolutely no other reason! Come on, Hyperlaser. Say it to him. Let him hear it. Let him hear those words while he was still able to.
"I don't know." Well that was a stupid answer.
"...Explain."
"Honestly, I could dump the contents of these bottles down the drain and it'd do everyone a favor. You wouldn't be able to stop me-" Oh? The... boldness this hornless demon had. Did he have the actual audacity, to even think about threatening him? Oh! Okay-! Okay! Count you days- actually- count your hours. You have hours left to live over this. You wont kill me. No. I won't let you. I won't let you at all. I wont. I wont. I- "-You're staring at me like you intend to make me a dead man. Could you let me finish?" Hyperlaser didn't sound frightened at all, if anything he sounded unamused.
"You better pick your words like they're cherries of high quality, not a single bruise or dent."
"That's a strange-... I won't finish that sentence." They gave awkward cough through the helmet after being met with a single eye glinting with uncanny eeriness. "Despite that though... I wouldn't. I'd feel bad. You're suffering after all... maybe even more than I have."
"Well of course I suffered more than you! You're not currently rotting alive now are you!" The mercenary purposefully chose not to respond. Instead continuing.
"I feel bad, you don't even take care of yourself. Despite your condition. You keep pushing, and pushing. How long till you're met with an early grave?"
"Are you pitying me?"
"No?" It was a question that came from nowhere, yet was given a response in an equal amount of time. "Do you think I'm pitying you?"
"..."
Did he? Maybe. I mean its easy to lie. Easy to say one thing and not truly mean it. Was Hyperlaser pitying him? Or did he just feel bad. Well- he said he felt bad. But does he actually feel bad? Why would he feel bad. There's no reason to feel bad. So this must be just... some sort of deflection from his true reasoning for "caring," right? Right?
He needed to think about this when he didn't feel like a soggy sack filled to the brim with mud. This was making his head hurt.
"Subspace-?"
"Just give me the damn meds. Then leave." He needed some time alone.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? I told you to leave didn't I-"
"Do I have to?"
"Well-"
"Do I?"
"I mean-..."
"I'll be staying then, holler if you need me. I'll be in the living room."
The door shut before he could say anything else...
He could have said more. A lot more.
But some fights just aren't worth fighting.
Not right now at least.
...
He really was losing his touch.