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Gravel crunches underfoot as Medkit makes his way through the empty streets of The Crossroads. All he had to do was find some supplies- bandages, food, anything useful if he was lucky- and head back. Easy, as long as he doesn't run into any infected. Or at least, he sure hopes it'll be easy.
Revolver in hand, he quietly makes his way towards one of the nearby abandoned buildings, slipping through the empty doorway after he made sure there didn't seem to be anyone inside.
It was quiet, almost eerily so. Each window was boarded up to some extent, blocking out even more of the already limited sunlight which only made the interior a little harder to navigate. This feels like those scenes in horror movies where the monster is waiting for the protagonist to reach a certain turn to lunge at them.
Medkit’s shoulders relaxed slightly after a while of walking and searching for materials. Strange… for a building this large there really isn’t much left inside.
His stance becomes lax, calmly searching for anything that could be remotely useful until a loud, metallic crash could be heard reverberating through the empty halls. It sounds a little distant, not too far from where he is.
No one’s supposed to be here.
His stance goes stiff at the sound, ears twitching as his gaze flicks towards the potential source.
‘Over there.’
Somewhere around the corner by the far end. The source. And while he knows he should likely turn tail and head out, he pauses, and against his better judgement slowly sneaks towards where the sound had come from.
For each step he takes closer, the noise could be heard more clearly. It wasn’t just that one single loud sound of something dropping. He could hear tools whirring softly, metal getting moved around, and something that almost sounds like mumbling. It calms his nerves a little- at least now he knows he doesn’t have to face an infected.
‘Another survivor?’
Just in case, his hand rests on the gun holster on his hip. You never know what kind of inphernals you might just run into in these dire times, after all.
With that, Medkit peeks around the corner, before his eye widens as he catches sight of just who it was.
‘No. It can't be, wasn't he supposed to be all the way in Blackrock…? What was he doing-’
He swallows dryly, gaze darting about as he tries to figure it out from what little he could see.
`Has he come to look for him? Did he know he was going to be here? Is- No, he's not… he doesn't know, surely -’
Instinctively, he's already taking a step back. Surely, if he hasn't realised, then he can get away before they-
[ Crack… ]
The sound of glass crunching underfoot was deafeningly loud, with him having not watched his step during his retreat.
‘Shit…’
Whatever noises Medkit was hearing stopped completely the second he misstepped- back to that deafening silence from earlier.
Just as he thinks of running and getting out of there as soon as he can, an all too familiar voice echoes through the empty building.
“I heard you! Show yourself before I activate these Biografts!”
His voice sounds rougher than it used to, almost to a concerning extent.
Before he could even make another move, the other inphernal steps out with a screwdriver in hand, clearly with the intent to scare off whoever might be intruding on their work. But his expression beneath the mask shifts in an instant the second they realize who’s standing right in front of them.
His scowl turns into an intrigued look, maybe ever grinning under the mask. It was almost like they were mocking him.
“Oh, it’s you! Didn’t think you’d even be alive… Honestly, I completely forgot about you!”
Subspace eyes him up and down, noticing the very obvious changes in his appearance, but stops to stare at the expression on his face. He looks almost horrified. A bitter laugh escapes his throat, raising the screwdriver and pointing it at Medkit.
“Haha! What’s wrong? Did you think I died or something?”
Another laugh, louder this time.
“Cat got your tongue? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
He takes a step forward, the metal-plated sole of their boot crunching the glass beneath it with ease.
“Can’t even have the manners to greet an old friend? Don’t you want to have a chat? You know, catch up after all these years? Come on, it’ll be just like old times!”
The expression on his face shifts again, now almost like he’s mad but… there’s a certain look in his eye that Medkit can’t describe. But he couldn't stare for long as Subspace takes another step forward, still with that screwdriver in their hand.
Each gesture of the screwdriver catches the light glinting off of it in the dim room, Medkit briefly tensing at each wide swing as he takes a step back.
Once.
And twice.
But he’d be a fool to back into a corner, even as he refuses to take his gaze off Subspace.
The other looks… a little worse for wear than expected, but that could be attributed to the lighting of the place, frame slim and hair somewhat disheveled. He’d been busy, no doubt. His hair always ended up a mess when he was focused on work.
Medkit’s frown deepens, raising the revolver warily and keeping it trained over the other’s form, watching as they continue on their tirade. It takes him a moment to finally speak up, tone far calmer than how he feels.
“No thank you. I know you like not being disturbed while busy with… whatever job Blackrock handed you this time.”
Subspace lowers the screwdriver and shakes his head, swinging the tool around slightly as if this was just a casual chat.
“I just finished repairing the batch sent here last night! I have time.”
His voice drops at the end, an unsettling shift in tone that makes the hair on the back of Medkit’s neck stand. They scoff at his avoidance, stomping another foot forward to close the gap between them even more, more aggressive this time.
It’s a little hard to see him in the dim lighting but as he got closer, the more Medkit could see his appearance. The dark circles around their eye, the way their arm is so concerningly thin, and… that suspicious dark spot on their shoulder. It’s covered up by a bandage, making it a little hard to see, but Medkit has an observant eye. He can tell that something is definitely wrong with Subspace.
He stares at him, his grasp on the gun trembling slightly. The look in their eye… it’s just like the last time he saw him.
Six years ago. They had that same look in their eye as they argued with him and lunged forward to grab and pull at one of his horns. He vividly remembers the sensation of half of his left horn cracking off, pulling his roots so harshly along with several flowers.
Lost in his trance, he didn’t realize how close Subspace had gotten until the other snapped him out of it, grabbing the barrel of his gun with their hand and pushing it away from pointing directly at their face.
As the gun is tilted off to the side, Medkit stiffens, staring back like a deer in headlights as his gaze flicks between Subspace’s face and hands, gauging, trying to track what’d likely happen next.
What were the chances that he’d lash out now, this close and within arm’s length? He knew the other was mad, no doubt about it. Who cares that they’re probably in some cushy high positioning spot? Who cares, when Subspace would just want to finish the job? He knew they could hold grudges, having been the one to talk them down back then, but to have him be the target-
A flash out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement.
The screwdriver? Was that it? Was that how they were planning to kill him? Was that how low they were planning to go? Who was he kidding, of course they would. It wouldn’t be against them to do this, to not even use a proper weapon before leaving him to bleed, to suffocate on his own blood- no, no, he wouldn't die to this, running all this way just to bleed out in some abandoned wreck- or worse, to be infected-
A hand is on his shoulder- when did it get there- nails digging in, cold seeping through despite layers of clothes. His heart bangs painfully against his ribs, eye darting back towards the source- they were talking, of course they were, probably distracted- but he needs to look, to keep an eye on them in case- yet he needs to look for an escape, an out-
A door, behind him, wasn't there? He'd look if he could, to make sure, if not for the fact he had to ensure Subspace wouldn't stab him then and there, cold metal dragging against his throat as they seem to lean in- close, too close for comfort, was the screwdriver closer now? He could feel the edge scrape against his skin. He couldn't breathe, not with them this close, his chest stings as he forces himself to inhale-
Focus, Medkit, focus. He doesn't want to die here. To die a meaningless death before he's even done anything, or maybe be tortured- no, he wouldn't, Subspace wouldn't- would he? He had poison, sure, but to think they'd-
No, he really wouldn't let that happen- not if he can help it- to die by their hand, or worse-
His finger squeezes around the trigger. The safety was off and so was his aim, but it'll do, it'll have to do. It's enough as a distraction, enough time to flee, to turn tail and-
[ BANG ! ]
It reverberates loud in the empty building, ears ringing as he sucks in a breath, already taking quick, unsteady steps back lest they retaliate for the attack.
Subspace lets out a guttural scream at the sudden shot, a cloud of pink mist spreading itself through the air from the gunshot wound. He steps back and hunches over, dropping the screwdriver in his left hand to raise it up and clutch onto his arm.
That’s strange… wasn’t it supposed to be at…
“Y-you…! What the fuck was that for!?”
He groans in pain, snapping his head up to glare at Medkit, his eye wide and absolutely furious. It’s not like the same angry look he can so clearly remember, no. This one is more uncontrolled.
What happened to him?
Before Medkit could react, Subspace jolts back up and lunges at him, pinning him down on the dirty floor with both legs on either side of his hips, effectively trapping him beneath them. There are shards of glass everywhere, some scratching and piercing Medkit’s skin through his clothes.
The inphernal above him laughs bitterly though his mask, shaking off his left glove to free his claws.
“Were you actually trying to kill me!? Didn’t take you for a killer, Medkit! I guess things really do change, huh!?”
With their right hand holding down Medkit’s shoulder to prevent him from escaping, Subspace scratches at his face, tearing his mask and exposing him to the spores coming from their gunshot wound. The pink spores stains his clothes, some even going into his hair.
Medkit flinches as the mask is torn off, eye widening as an arm moves to shield his face, lest Subspace attempt to claw out his remaining eye.
"You-" he sucks in a breath despite himself, a hiss leaving him as he does his best to shove the other off with his free hand, "You did this to me. Don't you dare put the blame on me after you-!"
A choked sound leaves him as he feels the Subspace's hands move towards his throat, thrashing in response as his foot finds purchase against their torso and attempts to kick them away.
It's a lot easier than expected, Medkit notes as he hears them tumble back with a thud, considering Subspace was putting their whole weight into holding him down... They’re a lot lighter than he remembers- but he shouldn’t be dwelling on that now. He needs to move before they get back up.
Boots scraping against the debris-dusted floor, he turns to run, only to feel a hand latch onto his ankle and send him crashing to the floor with a wheeze as the air rushes out of his lungs.
He tries to get up again, hands scrabbling against the tile below as a vindictive cackle pierces through the blood thudding in his ears. Claws raking into his scalp come next, a sharp tug of hair jerking his head back as he hisses in pain. Heaving for breath, he attempts to pull away, only to feel a harsher tug as Subspace's other hand latches onto his horn.
“Trying to run away again like you always do, aren’t you!?”
Their grip on Medkit’s horn tightens.
“This time it wouldn’t just be your eye!”
Medkit’s voice hitches at the threat, struggling growing sharper from where he was pinned to the floor. His revolver was nowhere to be found, and dragging his hands along the floor brought up nothing suitable as a makeshift weapon.
With a jerk of Subspace’s hand on his horn, his head is forced to the side as he sees the glint of the other’s claws approach, almost tauntingly slow as Medkit’s breathing comes in quick bursts.
What could he do- what can he do, he can’t just let it happen- Maybe he could-? If it’d even work, but it’s a last ditch effort- hell, even that would be better than nothing-
Managing to wriggle an arm free amidst where he was pinned back down, a flicker of light forms as Medkit feels the solid handle form in his grasp- his gear being summoned an almost comforting weight as his grip tightens and he swings.
And it hits, an almost sickening crack heard as the case collides with something in its arc.
Subspace falls on his back with a loud thud and a gasp for air, his mask clattering on the ground next to him as he lay breathless from the scuffle. Each heave of his breath releases a cloud of spores now that he’s not wearing his mask.
While Subspace was still dazed from the hit, Medkit scrambles to his feet, frantically scanning the ground for his gun. His breathing is still stuttered, nerves on edge as he sways unsteadily.
'There, it’s right there-'
By their head. Too close for comfort, but surely they're still stunned-
Briskly walking over, he snatches the gun up and retreats, leveling it towards Subspace's forehead even as his hands tremble visibly. Though, as the sight lines up with its target, Medkit freezes, the gun faltering slightly as he catches sight of just what he was aiming at.
Subspace's face is a gruesome mess of what it once was, the entire left side and jaw infected with the very fungi they had once been studying together. His mouth looks almost like it's melting, the skin of his lips drooping and almost fusing together in places. Meanwhile parts of his cheek look as though it's been shredded, slivers of bone peeking through torn muscle. Even his eyepatch had been misaligned from the impact of Medkit's gear, cloth slipping to reveal the sunken flesh of what used to be an eye socket, the eyeball within bloodshot and slowly starting to sag out as its multiple irises begin to turn-
Before landing on Medkit.
Subspace was staring directly at him, having slowly propped themself up with the help of their left arm as Medkit's grip on the gun shook. And yet, not a single move is made as the only sound in the empty building was their stilted breaths, neither one of them looking away as the tension stretches thinner and thinner. Medkit would turn tail and leave if he could, but he finds himself frozen in place, almost as if wondering whether this was some sick trick of the light. Maybe he hadn't gotten enough sleep, or maybe it was just the dim lighting. Blackrock was supposed to treat him well, they valued him just as much, didn't they? Surely, he thought-
A small huff of amusement breaks the silence as Subspace tilts his head to the side, mouth twisting into a grotesque grin, flesh contorting to reveal sharp teeth. And he begins to laugh. It starts quiet, a small chuckle that almost sounds tired as he slumps forward, before throwing his head back as it turns into a full blown cackle, the sound reverberating off the cracked walls. The sharp movement causes that drooping eyeball to slip more, falling and dangling by thin strands of twisting nerves as he continues to laugh.
Medkit almost wants to throw up at the sight, his stomach churning as he takes an unconscious step back.
No, it really couldn't be a trick of the light, but for it to be this dire-
“What’s with that look on your face, Medkit? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
Medkit feels his chest tighten, barely able to breathe with the bile threatening to rise up. His vision twists as he takes a stumbling step back, gasping for some reprieve and clenching his teeth at the response of air raking down his dry throat. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, to see the other like this, to see what he did- he didn’t know it’d turn out like that, all he wanted was to leave- to get out- to-
His head spins as he continues to back away, slowly shaking his head as his breathing quickens. His eye never leaves Subspace, widened in what could almost be horror before he suddenly turns, bolting away as his boots scuff against the floor.
Subspace stares as Medkit’s silhouette disappears out of view, leaving him on the ground to sit in the uncomfortable silence. Paralyzed in a mixture of anger and a deep ache in his chest, he lays back down with a stinging pain on the rotten side of his face, chest heaving as he comes off of his adrenaline rush.
Of course he leaves them. He hasn’t changed.