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Today, the elevator is quiet.
Very quiet. Terribly quiet. Was there any kind of maintenance done recently? The usual wall of noise that the elevator produces, its clinks and thumps, have been completely replaced by…silence. Incredibly loud silence.
Lobber quickly decides that it's one of the worst things they have ever heard.
Well, it’s not all bad, they suppose. Without the overpowering wall of noise, the quiet sounds of everything else are now clear. Mainly, what’s taking the stage right now, is Ranger’s innards. From Lobber’s spot on the floor, Ranger stands in front of the elevator doors, his spine a perfect straight line and his head tilted towards the floor. In that silence, the inner machinery that makes up their coworker quietly works away, gears steadily turning and creaking, the sound of aged metal components rubbing against one another. Occasionally, something in Ranger’s internals releases a tiny puff of steam. Lobber can see it right as it happens, as the steam is released, the rush of air makes the hem of his uniform briefly flutter up, before it rests back in its place.
It’s a consistent and predictable cycle. Weirdly comforting. The thought alone of Ranger being anything…comforting…sends a shiver down Lobber’s spine.
They’re weak. Aren’t they? I mean, even though the evidence isn’t as plentiful as Lobber would like it to be, Ranger was a spy. No if’s or and’s or but’s. A spy that Lobber has been finding getting too…close. With the little proof that they had, they knew it could withstand the trials of court. It was the only thing that gave him away completely, and oh how he seemed to never run out of it. The damming, manipulative, devilish trick that Ranger had absolutely perfected…
His kindness.
Kindness was like tilting your head to the side to better offer your throat to the dog. It was like splitting your chest open, exposing your delicate heart to the world, and then going for a stroll. Foolish, obtuse, reckless, and just plain dumb. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and Lobber knew how to rise to the top of the tower without having to spare any blood. Which is why, why, for someone who’s been around as long as Ranger has, was he doing this? Surviving to this age in this wrecked world was nothing short of impressive, but to so willingly risk it? To so confidently dangle yourself like a hunk of meat above the dog’s head? Like blood in water? It was maddening, trying to figure out Ranger’s methods. Lobber was fairly confident that they had figured out Blaster and Zoomer, but Ranger? It’s like reading a dictionary, written in a foreign language, backwards. There was no point in it. Yet, they still tried.
A sudden sound echoed through the elevator, causing Lobber to jerk in surprise. They whipped their head towards the source, their sprawled form quickly scrambling into a crouched position. It took them a second to regain full awareness, on account of being inside their own mind for a while, but the second Lobber did, Ranger let out a soft chuckle. The sudden noise was, in fact, not the elevator exploding, but was instead from Ranger knocking his boots against the floor. His foot was a few inches above the ground, geared up for another kick, before Ranger placed it back down. He placed his one hand on his hip and gazed right back at Lobber with a sympathetic look.
“Sorry Lobber, did I scare ya? Wasn’t my intention, I swear.” There’s a humorous tilt in Ranger’s voice, like he’s trying not to laugh but isn’t doing a very good job of hiding his attempts. Lobber can feel irritation prickling inside of them as they sit back against the elevator wall.
“NO! y.ou DID NOT! Why’d you dot hat?! You’re MAKING too mu . cH NOISE! TOOMUCH too much!” Despite the clear irritation in Lobber’s voice, Ranger just chuckles again before resuming his stomping. “Juuust cleain’ my boots off. I must’ve, walked through somethin’ real nasty, cuz’ this stuff just won’t come off!” Ranger lifts his foot up to inspect it, and going by his small, displeased hum, Ranger’s stomping isn’t quite done yet.
Just as Ranger prepares to resume his loud stomping session, the elevator gently glides to a stop, and the doors shutter open. A familiar ‘ding!’ signals the start of their shift.
Lobber immediately shoots up, and before Ranger could even react, launches themselves out of the elevator and down the hallway. Their footsteps thunder down onto the old carpeted floors as they beeline for the deepest sections of the apartments. Right as they round a corner, they shout over their shoulder at the stunned Ranger still in the elevator, “LET’S GO LET’S GO! I wanna get this floor DONE NOW!” Then, Lobber is gone. Their booming footsteps gradually become quieter and quieter, until the only thing Ranger can hear is his own components working. Ranger stands there in shocked silence for a few moments, before he softly sighs and steps out of the elevator.
When it’s just the two of them on a shift, Lobber insists, sometimes even demands, that them and Ranger stick to specific sections, with Lobber working on the more tucked away areas and Ranger sticking near the elevator. When Ranger, of course, questioned them on this, Lobber offered nothing more than, “Bad things down there.” End quote. As unnerving as that statement is, if it means Ranger doesn’t have to walk as much as he usually does on shifts, he’ll gladly take it. Nowadays, there’s no prior discussion about who does what. Lobber just takes off, Ranger deposits any antiques Lobber leaves in the hallways to Buddy, and together they get the job done.
With Buddy propped on one shoulder, Ranger quickly finds the right outlet and plugs him in. The TV lets out a soft chime as Ranger stands back up. He pauses, glancing back down at Buddy. For as strange and unpredictable Buddy could be, it was strangely charming seeing him somewhat act like a ‘normal’ TV. Ranger didn’t recognize the sound from anywhere, but he still squats back down until he’s level with Buddy again, before delivering a few pats on the base of his antenna. Buddy lets out another chime, a different one this time, and Ranger pats him one more time before rising. He’ll ask Buddy about those little tunes after this shift.
After Buddy is plugged in and accounted for, Ranger heads for the first apartment. Time to clean up.
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In the blink of an eye, Lobber delivered the final blow to a Spore, driving the pointed end of their picker directly into its big, gross eye. The monstrosity shrieks and shrieks, but Lobber only drives the blade in harder. The noise is starting to get to them. How many of these had they killed on this floor? 5?
The memory of each death is lost to Lobber’s mind, as are many things. Only way they could tell they did it was the sticky blood left behind on their gloves and picker. Eugh. What a mess.
The Spore’s body lands on the floor with a heavy, squishy thud, getting a few last twitches in, before going still. Lobber raises their picker and flings the corpse across the room. It slaps against the wall, sticks for a second, then slowly slides down, leaving a nasty trail of blood in its wake and plopping onto the floor with a second, equally disgusting sound. Good thing the room was already dirty to begin with.
Lobber stared at it for a few seconds. They wondered if one day, in a far or near future, that would be them. A disgusting, leaking, mangled pile of meat, left to slowly rot away as nothing but a figure of the past. Or, in Lobber’s case, a disgusting leaking mangled pile of metal. It’s not a foreign thought, more of a long-term resident in the jumbled mess of their mind. It was never an ‘’if’ situation, it was always a ‘when’.
The longer their mind wandered, the fuzzier the edges of their vision became. Breathe in, clear, breathe out, fuzzy. It was another cycle. This time, it wasn’t so comforting anymore.
The Spore’s body had a sizable puddle underneath it now, mysterious bodily liquids soaking into the apartment's carpeted floor. Seeping through the worn fibers, through the grains of wood, down and down until…where? Where is it going? What does it know? Is down there better, is there something Lobber doesn’t know? WHERE…is it?
One’s mind is the most beautifully designed trap, a carnivorous plant with open jaws and sharp teeth, waiting for Lobber to fall in. Their mind was the best made of them all. But, as tight as their subconscious was gripping them, begging them to stay, reality demanded to be acknowledged. The blood will stain. The stain will stay. Stains can’t stay.
The action of loading and shooting their blaster was a routine so heavily engrained in their brain, it felt like they were born with it. Even then, that’d be incorrect, because Lobber remembers feeling sensation in that missing hand. They don’t know when or where, but the memory of nerves reacting to touch, sending chemical signals to their brain, in that specific hand, was present. Even now, as they made quick work of the multiple stains and graffiti that covered the walls, a tingling feeling like pins and needles was there. Lobber shook their arm, and the sensation disappeared. They stared at their blaster for a moment, before trudging over to the next room. Shoot, reload, pick, shoot, rinse and repeat. A wonderfully bland cycle.
The next room wasn’t as bad. The Spore’s body sat in the living room, and judging by the absurdly large bed and the overall feeling of…comfort, this was the bedroom. A large wooden dresser sat flush against the wall at the base of the bed, with one of its doors slightly ajar. On one of their many duo shifts with Ranger, they had been warned that sometimes, Spores and Sporelings somehow get into furniture. Under a couch cushion, in the bathroom trashcan, hell, Lobber’s even seen one of them in the toilet bowl. To this day, they still don’t have the slightest clue how it had even wedged itself in there, and the little bugger was in there.
The memory brings a feeling of warmth in their heart as they clean. Ranger was there, as the two of them were working on that apartment together, and when Lobber had dragged Ranger into the bathroom and pointed into the toilet in utter bewilderment, Ranger had laughed so hard he popped a wire. Lobber ended up having to sling the poor bastard over their shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, and carry him back to the elevator. They distinctly remember how their head throbbed with a headache after hearing BUDDY laugh at the two of them. Sure, they were a sight to see, but GOD!
The AC unit turned on. A gust of air blew past Lobber and into the dresser, causing the doors to close slightly. The horrible grinding sound the doors hinges let out was enough to set Lobber back on track. They gripped the brass handles on each side and quickly threw the doors open. As the doors swung open, they tensed their body and aimed their blaster directly into the dresser, prepared for whatever living thing could be hidden away. But, as it turns out, the only thing living there was, well, nonliving. Lobber let out a breath of relief and relaxed, letting their blaster hang at their sides. The contents of the dresser was nothing extraordinary, a few shirts folded into a neat pile in one corner, a very large number of dust bunnies, and a few miscellaneous items shoved into the other corner. As Lobber squatted down to get a better look, something in the messy pile caught the light of the nearby floor lamp. It wasn’t a strong shine, but the material of that object was smooth enough to catch the light all the same. And that means, jackpot.
Their skeletal hand dove into the heap in search of this newly revealed treasure, as well as any hidden goodies. Thanks to the dim lighting of the room, the pile blended together into one dark mass, with no variation in color. It kind of looked like Lobber had just shoved their hand into a puddle of oil. The comparison reminded them that they needed to keep a bulb out for oil. They’d ask Ranger if he had found any later.
After a few seconds of digging, their hand caught onto the shining object, and they quickly pulled away to see their prize. A cassette tape, in surprisingly good condition, sat in their palm, and as they turned it this way and that, the tape's harsh edges caught the light and shined, almost like a gem. There was a square paper label on the front, covered in messy, small writing. Lobber, abandoning their task once again, quickly rose to their feet and rushed to the floor lamp, sitting alone by the bed. The light made it a bit easier to see, but the writing was still illegible.
“C’monnn, c’monn, get me something GOOD here! It’s- it’s gotta be one of them…” No matter how hard Lobber squinted, the writing remained illegible. They let out an angry huff, and right as they were about to fling the tape over their shoulder, they felt something solid land on their shoulder. Something warm and segmented, almost like…
A hand.
In Lobber’s eyes, oftentimes, the world was nothing but a blur of nonsensical colors and noise, like they were looking into a running washing machine. This time was no different.
They don’t remember grabbing their picker from where it had been leaned up against the wall, but it was suddenly in their hands. They certainly don’t remember moving, but they must have, because they were now back in the living room. The one thing they can say they remember doing was turning around, thrusting their picker forward to knock their assailant to the ground, and following after to where they landed. Adrenaline and pure, unbridled panic blurred their vision as they stood menacingly over the owner of the hand, picker held firmly in two hands with the sharp end pointed directly at what Lobber assumed was their attackers head. Neither of them moved. Now that Lobber was beginning to calm down from the initial surprise, the figure that was currently underneath them was smaller than they anticipated. That, and they were shaking ever so slightly, hands raised in a show of submission. Definitely not the big, bad creature Lobber was expecting.
Finally, Lobber’s vision fully cleared. The second it did, a piercing bright light shined directly in their face, pulling a surprised squeak from them. “Agh-! Stop, STOP that! Turn it off!”
A voice, distant and muddled sounding, was speaking to them, its words becoming clear as Lobber’s eyes adjusted to the light.
“...........-ey, hey, it’s ok, you’re all good. Can ya hear me?” That familiar, smooth, southern drawl. Lobber blinked against the light and saw none other than Ranger, drawn in a defensive position like he was preparing to run. Despite that, he had an arm extended towards Lobber, hand open and waiting. “You, uh, you all good, Lobber?” Ranger moved his hand slightly closer, his eye trained on Lobber’s like a hawk. Lobber stood there in stunned silence for what felt like forever, then, as carefully as they could manage, they opened their hand and let their picker clatter onto the floor. Ranger flinched at the sound, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Lobber. They felt their heart give a painful squeeze at the sight, and they hurriedly placed their hand into Ranger’s waiting one. Ranger exhaled a breath Lobber didn’t realize he was holding, giving their hand a light squeeze.
“Hooh, lord almighty you scared me! Thought you were gonna chop my head clean off!” Ranger huffed with amusement, surprisingly chipper for having just gotten essentially body slammed into the ground. “Man, whew. I feel like I just ran a damn marathon, hah.” Lobber continued to stare down at Ranger in silence. Unperturbed, Ranger continued, “Man, I’m real sorry Lobber, I wasn’t tryna scare you.” He gently pulled his hand out of Lobber’s grasp and placed it on the ground as he started to get up, “I saw the apartment door was wide open, figured one of those big ol’ brutes came in here. But, as it turns out,” Ranger fully stood back up with a slight groan, his hands pushing into the small of his back, “The only big ol’ brute in here was, heh, you, just now!” He chuckled, a light airy sound that filled up the suffocating silence around them. It made something in Lobber’s chest ache in an unfamiliar way. Probably an exposed wire, they told themselves, as they promptly ignored the way their body heated up as Ranger talked.
All too soon, Ranger stopped talking, and silence surrounded the two of them again. Lobber was about to drown in embarrassment, and they felt their voice box activate before they could stop, “N-nO. No. my fault. y.uo scaRE Dme. I don’t know why I reacted like T Hat.” The words hung heavy in the air, and right as Lobber was seriously considering hightailing it out of there to avoid this excruciating conversation, Ranger’s voice filled their audio sensors once more.
“Nah, nah, don’t worry about it. Only reason I scared ya was cuz’ I was tryin’ to sneak around, cuz’ I thought one of the big guys was in here. Trust me, I ain’t butt-hurt bout’ it. If anythin’,” Ranger lightly punched Lobber’s arm, “What I am surprised by is the damn guns on you, Lobber! I know I’m not the biggest guy out there, but whew! You laid me out ‘fore I even had a clue!” Ranger jokingly squeezed Lobber’s bicep, or what would be their bicep if they had a human body. They felt their body instinctively seize up from the contact, and Ranger quickly pulled his hand away with a cough. “Don’t worry about all that, it’s water under the bridge now. Anyway, how’s this apartment coming along? You all done or not yet?” His words washed over Lobber as they processed what had just happened. Good job, they thought, almost killing your coworker, who also just so happens to be the nicest person you’ve ever met. Round of applause for this guy.
Before Lobber could even begin to articulate a response, Ranger turned and started walking towards the bathroom. From its open door, the graffiti on the walls and scum caked to every surface was obvious, so Ranger was probably just going over there to clean. That was their job, and what they were supposed to be doing right now, and even though Lobber knew all of that, they still felt a pang of sadness in their heart as they watched Ranger walk away. The feeling surprised them, and they quickly shook it off before heading back into the bedroom. The cassette tape now sat on the floor, where Lobber had dropped it when Ranger scared the living daylights out of them.
As they bent down to grab it, Ranger called from the bathroom, “Alright, this room’s clear! Anythin’ else to do in ‘ere or nah?” Lobber stuffed the tape in their handbag and stood back up. “no. TH>t’s ev erything.” Ranger nodded once and started heading to the front door. Lobber easily caught up to him, and together they headed back to the elevator.