Chapter Text
Everything is different now.
That was all he could think of the predicament he’d found himself in. Blackrock’s Greatest— Or former greatest— was now running for his life. The only home he’d known had turned its back on him; chewed him up and spat him out as nothing but a shell of an ambitious genius.
It had started that morning.
The Blackrock facilities were buzzing with occupied workers, and he, as per-usual, was cooped up in his own office. Rather than reworking a damaged biograft, he sat unusually still in his seat. It was all he could do, at this rate. It had been weeks since he’d even touched his work, and the higher ups were indefinitely on his ass about it. Still, his body refused to comply with the demands.
It hurt .
Not just the rot that had steadily crept its way through his system, but the empty void his now ex-partner had left. He lacked motivation, often having to drag his fatigued self out of bed in the mornings, or ask the Biografts to do it for him. He was pathetic, like a soggy rag in the rain. His mind was completely lost to thought, eyelids heavy with weariness. He was quite aware that he was a complete mess, hair unkempt and horns unpolished. Subspace had let himself go– That was the least of what currently occupied his mind.
“CREATOR.”
His slitted pink pupils slowly rolled over to the Biograft that stood beside him, only mustering a deep exhale that turned into a tiny (but sickening) cough.
“THE COUNCIL WISHES TO SEE YOU. IT IS MANDATORY.” The Biograft reported in its monotonous voice, a voice that Subspace had grown to hate within the past few days.
Subspace took in a deep, labored breath before gripping the arms of his chair and bracing himself for the rather short walk to the meeting room. Lately, simple activities like walking up stairs or bending over to pick up fallen items had become extremely straining on him. He staggered to his feet, steadying himself on his disorganized desk as he began to trudge towards the door to his office.
The Biograft followed in a uniform fashion, its metal joints clunking along as the two slowly made their way down the hall.
Some employees exchanged pitiful or concerned looks with Subspace, but they didn’t offer to help him.
They’re scared of me. He recalled with a bitter thought.
As they arrived at the double doors of the meeting room, they couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry. They hadn’t had time to tidy themselves up, and Subspace instinctively knew that he hadn’t exactly had any good exchanges with his superiors as of late.
Regardless, he took a step inside, suppressing another sickly cough as he forced his unsteady legs to walk over to the table. He sat, folding his claws neatly in his lap.
They all stared at him– It was very evident that they were unhappy. Angry, even.
“T. Mine.” One of the heads spoke, “You’ve been quite unproductive lately.”
Subspace could hardly muster a response. Unproductive. He hated that word with every fiber of his being.
“Do we need to remind you that even though you were a valuable asset to Blackrock’s industries, we would be more than happy to replace you with the second-best demon that strolls along?”
‘Were?’
Subspace pinched his knee, as he does when he’s anxious. “I know.” He grumbled, “You may not be happy with me now, but I promise I’m working on something that will–”
“Your coworkers have also noticed you’ve been quite… Sickly, lately.”
He heard heavy metal footsteps enter the room behind him, the doors softly clicking shut.
Okay, Okay.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.
“It’s..Well, as you know ... .Blackrock's traitor left me in poor condition. But I will not let that interfere with my work.” He insisted, attempting to reason with the council.
“But you already have.” They retorted, their voice laced with menace. “We can’t have you using up valuable resources, sitting around and coughing up a storm all day while you slowly rot away in that laboratory of yours.” They stood, hands folded behind their backs. “We’re afraid we’ll simply have to….let you go.”
Subspace whipped around at break-neck speed, which he nearly did, as his muscles begged him to take a chill pill.
The Biograft was stalking toward him, menacingly unsheathing its blades.
“Biograft?” Subspace backed away, nearly tripping over the edge of the table. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” He snapped, his words sputtering with panic. ”I’M YOUR CREATOR. THE GREAT SUBSPACE T. MINE!! ”
The Biograft did not respond, and kept itself focused on its newly assigned task.
[Terminate Subspace T. Mine.]
Subspace began to form a crystal in the palm of his hand, his mind racing.
Is this a test?
Surely they can’t be serious.
Before he could even finish that train of thought, the graft lunged at him, swiping at his sweater with its blades.
Subspace shrieked, tumbling backwards. In a jerky and unprepared movement, he threw the crystal at the Biograft….and missed completely.
The Crystal had struck one of the lights that illuminated the room, and they sparked forebodingly.
Possibly some loose wiring. . Nothing to worry about.
The graft grabbed Subspace by the neck and slammed him into the ground promptly, winding back it’s other arm as it prepared to cut into him as if he were a stick of butter.
Subspace clawed and kicked desperately, fighting tooth and nail as his claws left tiny scratches in the machine’s metallic armor, his efforts futile.
Another crystal formed in his palm, and this time he grasped onto it, and shoved it in the Biograft’s eye.
It momentarily hesitates, likely experiencing multiple malfunctions as a result of the attack.
Subspace took the opportunity to reach out and claw at its face like a rabid animal fighting for it's freedom.
THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING TO ME.
He distinctly remembers more sparks flying from the light above, before the entire thing simply came crashing down on top of Biograft.
The machine went limp for a few moments, allowing Subspace to skitter free. He tumbled across the floor, wheezing with effort.
“Tsk. Please don’t make this hard for us, T. Mine.” The speaker from earlier shook their head shamefully.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” Subspace choked, holding back tears. He was Blackrock’s greatest, and they were tossing him aside like chewed gum that’s lost its flavor. It hurt. It hurt so, so badly.
“You simply are of no use to us anymore.” The speaker snapped their fingers, and two more Biografts stepped into the room, turning their menacing sights onto Subspace.
Subspace stood stunned, like a deer in headlights. What should I do? It all felt so surreal.
A black pipe running horizontally from one wall to the other caught his attention. It was a gas line.
As the robots lurched to seize Subspace in their iron claws, he leapt for the gas pipe, a sloppily developed crystal in palm. If I’m going down, I’m taking you all with me.
It all happened so fast.
With a deafening explosion, pink flames engulfed the room as plasma came into contact with methane.
The shrill shrieks fell on deaf ears, as soon the flames began to spread through the halls, quickly alerting the employees and other grafts.
Subspace’s ears rang, his vision blurry. He quickly came to the realization that the blast had knocked him outdoors, through the large glass windows of the meeting room. He lay for a moment, feeling cold flakes of snow cover his body with a soothing contrast to the pile of glass he found himself on top of.
The ringing soon faded and he heard voices coming from just around the bend.
I should be dead.
He thought, his heart pounding in his ears. He rolled over onto his stomach, using his elbows to drag himself through the deep snow that coated the area.
I have to keep moving.
He got to his feet, or rather his knees, as his legs kept buckling weaky under him. The adrenaline kept his body going, despite the ungodly amount of blood he was losing through the several large gashes that littered his skin, leaving crimson stains in his clothing. His rotted arm had twisted itself into an odd angle, which made him feel lucky all the nerves there had practically turned to mush.
The red had also left a trail in the snow, which Subspace knew would become a problem, but that was something he would worry about later. He needed to get to safety.
Now, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the snow surrounding the facility.
Knowing the layout of the facility like the back of his claws, it didn’t take him long to formulate an escape plan. Though his mind kept trailing off to other wonders, like what the hell just happened? And Am I worth anything anymore? And Where will I go? He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Get the hell outta dodge.
Eventually Subspace found one of the many overstretching service roads, coated neatly in a thin layer of snow. He trudged on, dragging his feet as the adrenaline wore off and left him with nothing but a weighing exhaustion. His horns omitted a soft pink light, one of a dying flashlight. All he could do was stare at the ground, unsure of how long he’d be walking or how long he’d even been walking. Normally his internal clock was more precise, but due to the nature of his circumstances it was all…discombobulated.
He looked up at the streetlights, squinting as he tried to get a look of the horizon. There was nothing but darkness interrupted by the flurries that drifted from the skies. He grimaced, hearing nothing but his own labored breaths and the dragging of his feet in the snow.
Is this how Meddy felt?
The former scientist couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream every profanity and curse at the gods, but he knew his complaints would fall on deaf ears….or attract unwanted company.
He stopped walking, and fell face-flat on the shoulder of the road. The cold wasn’t very comforting, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care anymore. Tears began to trickle down his cheek as he softly sobbed into a pile of snow. He’d lost everything. Was it even worth carrying on now? Who was he anymore? Without the title he’d worked his entire life for, he was truthfully nothing.
All the fear and panic that had driven Subspace this far out was replaced by sheer grief, rendering him useless; practically paralyzed as he stained the white snow below him with his crimson blood.
The sound of an approaching truck was extremely faint in his ringing ears.
He hoped it was a search party, so they could put him out of his misery.
As the truck rolled to a halt, much to his dismay, it was just Hyperlaser.
“Oh wow…” The helmeted demon commented, stepping out of the truck and standing beside the ragdolling Subspace. “The Great Subspace T. Mine, fleeing from his own faction? You don’t see that everyday.”
He spoke with such lightheartedness it sickened Subspace. He wanted to bark an order at the blue demon, but he knew he was in no position to do so.
“What do you want..” Subspace groaned, not even looking at Hyperlaser. “Are you here to kill me like I’m some kind of ill dog?” He spat, his words laced with bitter rage.
“Firstly, no.” Hyperlaser bent down, scooping the surprisingly light man into his arms. “Personally, I would’ve loved to see you get ripped to shreds by Biografts.”
His words were utterly confusing in contrast with his actions, as Subspace is loaded into the passenger side of what he now noticed was one of the transportation trucks.
“Then why–”
“I’m getting you out of here.” Hyperlaser shut the door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I…. guess I feel bad for you.” He admitted, putting on his seatbelt and shutting his own door. “But mostly, I think you absolutely deserved what you got.”
Subspace scrunched up his nose, slouching in his seat grouchily. “Wow….Thanks Hyperlaser.” He spoke sarcastically.
“Watch your tone.” Hyperlaser warned, driving at a leisurely pace, likely to avoid any suspicion.
The two sat in an odd, heavy silence.
“...Why a delivery truck?” Subspace questioned. He knew it was likely to avoid suspicion, but he needed to strike up some kind of conversation to distract himself from the burning pain in every atom of his being.
“I think you know the answer to that question, Tripmine.” Hyperlaser grumbled.
Subspace furrowed a brow, regretting ever asking the question in the first place. He’d never enjoyed Hyperlaser’s company, mostly because of the demon’s condescending tone. He was to be respected. He is head scientist of— No, wait. Not anymore.
“I’m dropping you off in the crossroads. I don’t want to deal with you more than I feel like I have to.” Hyperlaser announced, ripping Subspace from his sinking thoughts.
The pink-horned demon only responded with a nod, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. He succumbed to slumber, his body forcing him to put his trust in his coworker.
When Subspace awoke, the sun had already begun to rise. He was still sitting in the passenger seat of the truck.
They were crossing over the bridge towards the center of crossroads, the tall metal tower coming into view.
Hyperlaser glanced over at Subspace briefly. “Finally awake, sleepyhead?”
Subspace mumbled some disgruntled remark, feeling the truck roll to a stop on the side of the road.
Hyperlaser rolled down his window, peeking out of the truck as he glanced around. “Looks like they haven’t started searching here. They probably think you died.”
Subspace reluctantly opened his door, and took a bit of a tumble as he missed a step and fell flat on his bum.
“Try not to get yourself killed, yeah?” Hyperlaser hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d never thought highly of Subspace…Maybe a high pain in the ass. But thinking of the demon as his superior? Hell no.
Still, he made the choice to help him. He supposed it wasn’t entirely his fault he’d been enabled to be such a terrible person.
However, his sympathy only went so far.
“...Thank you.” Subspace mumbled. He surprised himself more than he surprised Hyperlaser. Perhaps the circumstances had finally humbled him.
“...You’re welcome.” Hyperlaser returned after a few moments, nodding.
Subspace stepped onto the sidewalk, watching Hyperlaser sadly as he watched the truck drive away. Now he was really alone.
A disturbing rumble coming from his stomach tore him from his moment of absentmindedness. Right, food.
He hadn’t eaten in a while, now that he thought about it….and, unfortunately, he didn’t have any cash on him. He wasn’t really worried about that right now..He’s gone days without eating before. Many, many times, hunched over a worktable and losing track of the days as he worked on his inventions.
Subspace turned around, placing a claw on one of his wounds, which had now stained his black sweater in blood. He could worry about that later, too. Despite the nap he had taken earlier, he still needed someplace to rest.
The scientist stumbled down an alleyway, finding a nice box to sleep in. He was so glad no one could see him right now, curled up in a box as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. In a way, it was. The cardboard had a way of blocking out the busy sounds of Crossroads, providing Subspace with a decently drowned-out resting place.
He was completely unaware, however, that he was being watched.