Chapter Text
Subspace felt disgusting.
He aggressively swiped all of his papers off of his desk. They spiraled downward, much like his mentality, onto the cold, hard, tile. He threw himself to the ground, eliciting a sharp pain. Nothing was working out. Nothing. For fuck's sake, why couldn't he just...?
Subspace wheezed heavily. His vision flickered at the edges. This was pathetic. Pathetic. He was pathetic.
Blackrock's greatest scientist. Reduced to a detestable, decaying heap, a broken shell just begging to be buried. God, he needs to get up.
For the past few months, no, years, Subspace had been desperately trying to find a way to cure his rot. The decay snaked up his chest, his right arm, and ate away at his face and ego. His hair was a matted mess, his physique gaunt. Nothing about his appearance was particularly pleasant in the least. Every glance in the mirror was sand pouring into the bottom of an hourglass; a constant reminder of his wilting morality. Subspace would've ignored his crying body if he could, but it had been weighing down his work to an overwhelming degree. He had goals, you know! But after that... stupid... oh forget it.
He was probably just going to die anyway.
The scientist stared blankly at the blinding fluorescent lights, the hum like maggots digging into his skull.
...No. He would not die! What a ridiculous notion. He had plenty of work to do, rotting or not! And he would finish it all, of course! He wasn't Blackrock's greatest scientist for nothing. Ignoring his head which threatened to burst, Subspace forced himself up. Shaking, he grabbed onto his table to steady himself. Yes, it would be just fine. He would be just fine. He just needed to do some more research, busy himself with more work, and everything would be alright!
-
"CREATOR, IT IS TIME TO TAKE YOUR MEDICATION."
A blue-horned robot strolled up to Subspace's desk, who, yet again, was bent over a growing pile of paperwork. He groaned.
"Not fucking now, Gamma! Can't you see I'm busy????"
Gammagraft stood next him patiently. Knowing they would not leave despite his display of irritation, he slammed his head on the desk. He snatched the medicine from the tray they held, and swallowed it dry. He nearly choked, but managed it force it down anyway.
"CREATOR, PERHAPS IT WOULD BE USEFUL FOR YOU TO TAKE A BREAK. IT WOULD BE BENEFICIAL FOR YOUR WORK."
Regaining his composure, the scientist scowled at them, insulted. "A break? Gamma, who do you think I am??? I can't take a break, there's much work to be done! Just leave me alone!"
Gammagraft only looked at him unblinkingly.
Subspace's brows furrowed deeper. Seems he had programmed this robot to care for him a little too well.
"CREATOR, WHY DON'T YOU TRY ASKING SOMEONE FOR HELP ON YOUR CONDITION? THERE COULD BE KNOWLEDGEABLE INPHERNAL UNKNOWN TO US."
Subspace's penetrating glare only intensified. He didn't want help. In fact, that was probably the last thing he wanted! Sure, it could increase his chances of getting rid of the rot once and for all, but he could never accept assistance from some nobody! The great Subspace T. Mine always figures everything out on his own, after all. So why should this situation be any different?...
He didn't want to admit defeat. He would do it on his own. He had to. Yet... he found himself holding back on his own mentality. Tch. He forced himself to agree with Gammagraft.
And with that, he was seated in a taxi, blurs of the icy mountains of Blackrock whizzing past. He huffed. This would most definitely prove to be a mistake.
Subspace T. Mine in Crossroads? He scoffed. What a joke!