Chapter Text
For Medkit, the day started like any other Tuesday morning.
The same grating sound of his alarm pierced through the air, harsh and unforgiving, jolting him out of a calming sleep. His eyes fluttered open, heavy with fatigue, as the relentless beeping continued from the nightstand beside him. With a groan, he stretched out his arm, weakly groping for the off button, his muscles sluggish and protesting the movement.
The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of the early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting long shadows on the floor. The air in his small, sparsely furnished bedroom was still and cold, a contrast to the cozy warmth of his bed, making the thought of getting up all the more unpleasant.
After several moments of internal debate, Medkit finally swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet making contact with the cold wooden floor. His body felt heavy, his joints stiff, and he stretched lazily. Medkit’s gaze drifted toward the small digital clock on his nightstand: 6:15 AM. It wasn’t early enough for Medkit to feel rushed, but certainly too late for him to indulge in any more sleep, especially since he already wasted 15 minutes doing nothing else but sitting.
With slow movements, Medkit made his way across the room, the faint sound of his footsteps the only noise. His destination was the kitchen. The cabinets were plain, the countertops bare save for a few scattered utensils and, of course, the ever-reliable coffee pot. Having coffee ready to brew at a moment's notice was a necessity, a ritual Medkit adhered to religiously. His fingers brushed against the familiar handle of the coffee pot as he reached for it, initiating the brewing process with the ease of someone who had done it countless times before.
As the aroma of coffee began to fill the air, Medkit turned his attention to the closet located just off the main living area. His Blackrock uniform hung neatly inside along with multiple copies of relatively similar clothes.
The Blackrock uniform was a stiff, uncomfortable outfit, its various components designed more for utility than comfort, and getting into it was always an ordeal. Medkit started the process slowly pulling on each piece of the uniform, and it required a frustrating amount of effort to fit it all together properly. The fabric was thick, almost suffocating, and the tightness around his right arm and chest made movement feel restricted.
By the time Medkit had finished wrestling with the uniform, his frustration was evident in the tense set of his jaw. He caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror as he passed by, being a bit displeased with his appearance. The dark circles under his eyes from his sleepless nights spent at Blackrock’s research facility didn’t help either. Medkit ran a hand through his unruly hair before grabbing a brush to smooth it down and quickly brushed his teeth until he felt slightly satisfied with his appearance. Once fiished, he returned to the kitchen where the coffee had finished brewing and poured the steaming liquid into his sealable cup, his small tail wagging slightly as he took a sip.
After grabbing his gear, Medkit stepped out of his apartment into the biting chill of Blackrock’s snowy climate. The wind was sharp, cutting through the air with a ferocity that made even the thick layers of his uniform feel inadequate. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he trudged forward, each step sinking into the soft, white powder that coated the ground. The journey to the lab wasn’t a long one, but it was arduous in these conditions, the cold gnawing at his exposed skin despite the protective gear he wore. His breath came out in visible puffs of white, disappearing into the frigid air as quickly as they formed. The coffee in his hand was a small blessing, its heat radiating through the cup and into his cold fingers, providing a fleeting sense of warmth in the otherwise harsh climate.
When Medkit finally arrived at the facility, he went through the usual security protocols. The hum of the scanners, the clanking of the heavy metal doors as they slid open, these were all routine. Inside, the stark, sterile environment of the lab greeted him, the harsh fluorescent lighting bouncing off the white walls and tiled floors, casting everything in a slightly blinding glow.
The first stop, as always for Medkit, was the staff lounge. The space was small with a few scattered tables and chairs, causing Medkit to maneuver around them, being too careless to try to put them back in place. Medkit grabbed a bagel from where breakfast was being served and sat down at one of the tables, biting into the bagel absentmindedly, his mind wandering as he stared at the wall ahead.
Just as he was starting to lose himself in his thoughts, the door to the lounge burst open, and Subspace came barreling in with the energy of a man who had been awake for far too long. His long tail flicked back and forth with excitement as he made a beeline for Medkit’s table, words already spilling out of his mouth in a rapid, almost incoherent stream.
“Meddy! You’ll never believe what happened last night! It was crazy! The crystals—they actually worked! Well, kind of. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something! We’re on the verge of something huge here!”
Medkit barely registered half of what Subspace was saying, his own fatigue clouding his ability to focus. He picked up on a few key phrases, "last night," "crystals," "worked", but most of the excited babble went in one ear and out the other. Subspace’s enthusiasm was palpable, but Medkit couldn’t muster the same level of excitement, especially not this early in the morning.
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Medkit finally mumbled, blinking up at Subspace with a mix of confusion and annoyance. “Also, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me ‘Meddy’?”
“The crystals!” Subspace practically shouted, leaning forward with a wide grin. “I stayed late last night to work on them, and I finally got them to do something! It wasn’t a lot, but it’s a start! We’re going to change the world, Meds!”
Medkit stared at him, dumbfounded. Sure, they had been studying the crystals for years, trying to figure out how to harness their mysterious properties, but after so many failed attempts, he had all but given up on the idea that they would ever get anywhere. And now, Subspace was standing here, claiming they had finally made a breakthrough? It seemed too good to be true.
Without a word, Medkit stood up from the table, gesturing for Subspace to lead the way to the lab. Subspace practically bounced out of his seat and together they made their way down the long, sterile halls of the facility. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the walls as they walked, the distant hum of machinery and the occasional beep of electronic devices filling the air. Medkit’s mind was racing, thoughts of the crystals and their potential uses swirling in his head.
When they reached the door to their shared lab, Subspace quickly unlocked it, practically bursting inside with enthusiasm. Medkit followed more slowly, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the familiar space. The lab was cluttered with various pieces of equipment and half-finished experiments, but at the center of it all was the crystal array they had spent years studying. Subspace rushed over to the crystals, his tail wagging with excitement as he began to demonstrate their newfound abilities.
At first, the results were underwhelming, a faint glow here, a small pulse of energy there, but then Subspace used the crystals to heal a small plant, its wilted leaves springing back to life before Medkit’s eyes. It was a small victory, but a significant one nonetheless. Medkit couldn’t deny that there was potential here, but Subspace’s next words quickly brought his focus back to reality.
“We could build machines that use the crystals! Imagine what we could do with that kind of power, automated systems, robots, entire fleets of-”
Medkit sighed, cutting him off. “You healed a plant, and you’re already talking about machines? Come on, Subspace. Think about what we could do if we focused on advancing the healing aspect. We could eventually heal people, save lives. Who needs machines when we could just hire demons to do the same work?”
Subspace’s excitement deflated in an instant, his face twisting into a scowl. “You’re always against my ideas, Meds! You never listen! You always call them stupid, and I’m sick of it!” he snapped, his voice rising in frustration.
Medkit rolled his eyes at the sudden mood shift, moving closer to Subspace. “You’re always like this, getting so mad and instantly changing once I suggest something. You’re acting like a child,” Medkit was getting a bit annoyed and had a mood swing as well. “Your ideas are stupid. And can you please, for once, use my actual name instead of that ridiculous nickna-”
Medkit was cut off by a sudden, searing pain in his left eye. The world around him blurred as he instinctively reached up to touch his face, his fingers meeting the empty socket where his eye had once been. Medkit’s breath hitched in his throat as he pulled his hand away, his fingers now slick with blood. Time seemed to slow as he looked down at the crimson staining his skin. Medkit was caught between a gasp and a scream, as his hand instinctively shot up to his face again, fingers trembling.
Medkit’s heart raced, pounding violently in his chest as his fingertips brushed against his eye only, his eye wasn’t there, yet he already knew that the first time. His stomach lurched with nausea as he slowly pulled his hand away again. Medkit’s breath came in shallow, rapid bursts now, each intake shaky and uneven as he stared at his bloodstained hand in stunned disbelief. The pain was sharp, intense, radiating from the empty socket in a throbbing manner that seemed to blur his vision. The world around him seemed to tilt, becoming unstable, as his body wavered on the edge of collapse. Medkit’s knees buckled slightly, but he forced himself to stay upright, even as the blood continued to trickle down the side of his face, warm and sticky as it soaked into his cheek and dripped down his neck.
Desperately, he looked up, his one remaining eye locking onto Subspace, who stood mere feet away. The sight that greeted him twisted the pit of fear in his stomach even further. Subspace was standing there, holding Medkit’s eye in his hand, a twisted grin plastered across his face. He toyed with Medkit’s eye idly, rolling it between his fingers like it was some kind of grotesque prize, the blood from it dripping steadily onto the floor, causing a growing pool of bright red.
Medkit’s voice finally returned, breaking the silence in a hoarse, ragged scream. “S-Shit! What the fuck did you do?!”
The pain was unbearable now, a constant throb that sent jolts of agony through his entire head. He could barely stand as he stumbled backward, clutching his face with one hand, trying to block out the pain. His body felt weak, unsteady, but he fought to stay on his feet, his mind still reeling from the shock of it all. How had it escalated so fast? One moment they were arguing, the next, well this.
Subspace’s grin only widened at Medkit’s reaction, his eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of glee. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his hand still holding Medkit’s eye as he leaned in close. His grip was firm as he grabbed Medkit’s chin, forcing his face upward so he could inspect the damage he’d done, his tail swishing on the floor below. His fingers dug into Medkit’s skin, his touch cold and unrelenting as he angled Medkit’s head to get a better look at the now-empty eye socket.
“Look at that…” Subspace murmured, his tone disturbingly casual. “I did a pretty good job, didn’t I?” His grin turned more manic, as if the horror of what he had done was nothing more than a fun experiment.
The feeling of Subspace’s grip on his face sent a wave of revulsion through Medkit, and in a surge of adrenaline-fueled rage, he yanked himself free, stumbling backward in a desperate attempt to put space between them. Medkit’s hands fumbled for the nearest object, his vision blurred by pain and panic, until they landed on his gear that was on the floor. Medkit didn’t even remember dropping it, but that didn’t matter now. Without hesitation, he swung it at Subspace’s head, the hard metal making solid contact with a sickening thud.
Subspace staggered backward, a look of surprise flashing across his face as he stumbled, but Medkit didn’t stop there. With trembling hands, Medkit scrambled around the lab, grabbing whatever he could find, test tubes, flasks, random chemicals, anything that could be used as a weapon. He didn’t know what half of the substances were that he grabbed, but it didn’t matter.
Medkit hurled a handful of the vials at Subspace and the glasses of them shattered on impact, the sound sharp and piercing as shards of it embedded themselves into Subspace’s face. Whatever chemicals were inside the vials began to react immediately, hissing and bubbling as they splashed across Subspace’s skin, causing an angry, red-ish pink burn to spread across his face.
Subspace screamed as he dropped to the ground, clutching his face with both hands. The chemicals sizzled as they ate away at his skin, the glass shards still lodged in his flesh adding to his torment. His once smug expression had been replaced by one of pure, unfiltered pain, his body writhing on the floor as he howled in anguish.
Medkit stood there, panting heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His vision was still spinning, the room tilting dangerously as the blood loss from his missing eye started to take its toll. Medkit’s hands were shaking violently, his knuckles white as he clutched his gear in his hands, unable to process what he had just done.
For what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few seconds, Medkit stood frozen, unable to move, unable to think. Then, in one swift, panicked motion, he turned on his heel and bolted for the door. His mind screamed at him to flee and to get as far away from Subspace as possible.
Medkit ran through the hallways, his footsteps erratic and uncoordinated as he stumbled forward. The sterile white walls of the facility blurred together, and the fluorescent lights overhead flickered in and out of focus. His hand pressed against his bleeding eye socket, trying to put pressure on the wound as blood dripped steadily onto the floor, leaving a dark trail in his wake.
As he rounded a corner, Medkit collided with someone, sending them both sprawling to the floor. The impact was sudden and Medkit barely registered the fact that it was Hyperlaser, a blackrock mercenary, who had been leaving the staff lounge with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. The scalding liquid splashed across both of them, probably burning the skin on Medkit’s chest, but the pain was nothing compared to the agony radiating from his eye.
“Watch where you’re going, assho-Medkit?” Hyperlaser’s voice was sharp, filled with confusion and alarm as he took in Medkit’s disheveled appearance and the blood pouring from his face. “What the hell happened to you?!”
But Medkit didn’t stop to explain. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Hyperlaser’s startled shout as he kept running. His body was on autopilot now, his mind barely holding onto consciousness as he stumbled through the facility’s exit and into the harsh cold of the snowy landscape outside.
The freezing wind hit Medkit like a wall, the chill sinking into his bones, but Medkit barely felt it. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last. His legs felt heavy, each step harder than the one before. Medkit’s vision now had dark spots creeping in from the edges as he pushed himself further into the snow-covered terrain.
Eventually, Medkit’s body gave out. His legs buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. The pain in his head was overwhelming now, pounding in time with his racing heartbeat, and he could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him, staining the pristine snow red.
Medkit closed his remaining eye, letting the darkness wash over him. The world around him felt distant, the snow-covered ground beneath him was the only thing anchoring him to reality, though none of this felt real to begin with. He could feel his consciousness slipping, fading in and out as the cold began to seep into his bones.
This wasn’t his fault, was it? Medkit’s thoughts drifted as he laid there, his mind struggling to make sense of the situation. He hadn’t meant for things to get so out of hand. Sure, he had started the argument, but it was never supposed to escalate. It wasn’t supposed to end in violence, in blood, in… this.
As the snow swirled around him, Medkit let out a low groan, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. Everything hurt. His body, his mind, his very soul felt like it was being crushed. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He didn’t want to die.
Help me…
The thought echoed in his mind, a desperate plea. He was alone out here, in the middle of this frozen wasteland. There was no one around to hear him, no one who could save him. But still, he couldn’t stop the silent cry from repeating in his head.
Please, someone, help me… I don’t want to die… not like this… not alone.
The cold was growing unbearable now, sinking deep into his bones. His body shivered uncontrollably, but there was a strange peace that came with it. His mind was drifting further from consciousness, the world around him fading into a blur of white.
I want to live… Please… Help me… Everything… hurts…
•
When Medkit finally stirred awake, the first sensation that registered was pain, a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed from his left eye socket. It felt as though someone had taken a red-hot iron and pressed it into the empty space where his eye used to be, the pain constant and unforgiving. Groaning softly, he raised a trembling hand to his face, expecting to feel the raw, open wound, but instead, his fingers brushed against something soft.
It was plush cotton.
His eye… it was bandaged. An eye patch covered the socket, the fabric smooth and snug against his skin. Blinking groggily, Medkit pushed himself up into a sitting position, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. His head spun slightly from the movement, but he forced himself to take in his surroundings.
The room Medkit found himself in was… sparse, to say the least. The walls were a rough, sandstone-like material, giving the space an almost ancient feel. A small wooden desk sat in one corner, paired with an equally small wooden chair that looked like it could collapse at any moment. Next to the desk was a small fake plant, its plastic leaves coated with a thin layer of dust. The bed he sat on was simple, with rough, scratchy sheets and a thin mattress that offered little in the way of comfort.
Medkit’s mind raced as he tried to piece together how he had gotten here. Who had brought him to this place? He remembered the snow, the pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness as he laid dying in the cold… but after that, it was a blur. Someone must have found him, saved him. But who? And why?
Before he could dwell too long on the questions swirling in his mind, the door to the room swung open with a bang. Medkit flinched at the sudden noise, his hand instinctively reaching for his side where his gear should have been. But his gear wasn’t there. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes locked onto the figure standing in the doorway.
A woman strolled in, her presence commanding and unmistakably dangerous. She wore a white cowboy hat emblazoned with a symbol that Medkit recognized as the Lost Temple’s logo. Medkit assumed that he was somewhere in the faction due to the logo and bit his lip at the thought of how far away it was from Blackrock. The woman’s demeanor was confident, bordering on arrogant, as she sauntered into the room with a casual swagger. A large snake-like tail flicked behind her, swaying lazily as she approached.
She was striking in appearance, but not in a comforting way. Her sharp, predatory features were accentuated by an X-shaped scar beneath her left eye, giving her an air of danger. A fang poked out from the corner of her smirking mouth as she eyed Medkit with a look that was equal parts amusement and menace.
“Well, well,” the woman drawled, her voice carrying a thick accent that matched her cowboy hat. She set something down and pulled the wooden chair from the desk over to the bed and sat down, crossing her legs and leaning forward slightly, her sharp gaze never leaving Medkit’s face. “Looks like yer awake. Thought ya might kick the bucket back there.”
Medkit stared at her, trying to read her expression, but the smirk on her face made it impossible to tell if she was mocking him or genuinely concerned. “Who…?” he began, his voice hoarse and dry, causing him to have a small coughing fit.
The woman waved a hand dismissively. “I know ya got questions, but now ain’t the time fer answers, alright?” She leaned forward, her tie brushing against her legs as she got eye-level with him. “Here’s what you need to know: we saved yer life and nursed ya back to health, but we don’t do it fer free. Here’s the deal, you can stay and do me a favor, or I’ll toss ya back onto the streets. Yer choice.”
She leaned back in the chair, watching him carefully as she crossed her arms over her chest, the tails behind her flicking back and forth. Medkit felt his heart sink and honestly did not want to find out who the “we” was, causing him to look down at his lap.
The woman scoffed and stood up, walking back to the desk to retrieve the thing she had set down earlier when walking in. When she returned, she handed Medkit a bowl of oatmeal. It looked cold and unappetizing, plus Medkit could barely stomach the thought of food anyways, causing Medkit to scrunch his face slightly.
“Eat,” she said curtly after seeing Medkit’s expression, sitting back down in the chair. “And think about it. I’ll be back later fer yer answer.”
Medkit stared at the bowl in his lap, his stomach churning at the sight of the bland mixture. His thoughts were too scattered, too weighed down by pain and confusion to focus on food. He brought the spoon to his mouth, but the second the oatmeal touched his tongue, his body rebelled. He gagged, leaning over the side of the bed as he vomited.
The woman sighed in exasperation, shaking her head as she stood up to leave. “My name is Scythe by the way, yer gear’s next to the desk,” she said, her voice dripping with irritation. “And just so ya know, yer bein’ hunted down in Blackrock right now. If I were you, I’d make my decision real quick.”
With that, Scythe turned and strolled out of the roomnas her tail wagged lazily behind her. Medkit watched her go, his heart sinking even further as her words echoed in his mind.
He was being hunted. Of course he was.
After what had happened in the lab, he should have expected it. But hearing it out loud, spoken so casually by a demon who seemed to relish the danger, made it all too real.
Medkit’s slipped back into the bed, the weight of exhaustion and hopelessness pressing down on him. He glanced at the bowl of oatmeal in his lap and placed it on the chair next to him. Medkit wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, his breath shaky and uneven.
Despite how uncomfortable the bed felt, it was oddly comforting, but maybe it was just the situation he somehow ended up in. The simplicity of lying there, feeling the pressure of the mattress under his aching body, was something to cling to. He stared up at the ceiling, its cracks and worn paint doing little to distract him from the dull throbbing in his eye socket and the gnawing ache in his bones.
•
It felt like hours passed, though he couldn’t be sure. Time had become an abstract concept, blurred by exhaustion and pain. The silence of the room was heavy. Medkit could feel the weight of the blankets pressing down on him, though they did little to stave off the cold that seemed to seep in from the thin walls of the room, which seemed weird if he was indeed in the Lost Temple faction. He pulled them tighter around himself, trying to find warmth.
Eventually, the door creaked open again, and Scythe entered the room. It was nighttime now, Medkit had figured that much, though his sense of day and night was completely skewed at this point. Scythe had confirmed it as she walked in, her cowboy hat tipped back slightly as if she had been outside and just returned from some unknown task.
The bowl of oatmeal that had been on the chair earlier was gone now, though the mess Medkit had made when he vomited earlier still stained the floor beside the bed. Scythe didn't seem bothered by it; she simply walked around it, her boots clicking lightly on the floor as she pulled the chair closer to the bed. She propped her feet up on the edge of the mattress to avoid said mess on the floor, and leaned back, crossing her arms behind her head as she fixed Medkit with that piercing gaze of hers.
For a long moment, she just stared at him, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable, expectation, perhaps, or maybe a hint of amusement. It felt like she was looking straight through him, as if she already knew what Medkit was going to say before he even opened his mouth. The silence stretched between them, thick and tense, until finally, Medkit cleared his throat, wincing as the sound scratched at his raw throat.
“I’ll… I’ll join you guys,” Medkit finally said, his voice quiet. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but the idea of having shelter, of being cared for in some capacity, outweighed the fear and uncertainty gnawing at his insides. He had no other choice honestly, no place to go, no one else to turn to. He was trapped, and this was the only option laid before him.
Scythe smirked, her sharp fang glinting in the dim light of the room as she leaned forward slightly, her boots sliding off the bed and thudding lightly against the floor. “Good,” she said, her voice low and sinister, laced with a hint of satisfaction. “We’ll tell ya everything ya need to know tomorrow. Don’t stray off the path now.” Her tone was playful, but there was an edge to it, a warning beneath the surface that Medkit couldn’t ignore.
With that, Scythe stood up and made her way to the door. She paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked grin, before leaving the room, her laughter echoing faintly in the hallway as the door clicked shut behind her. Medkit stared at the door for a long time after she left, his mind buzzing with a mix of emotions he couldn’t fully process. He didn’t trust Scythe, but what choice did he have other than depend on this woman?
Medkit shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable, but the mattress pressed awkwardly against his back, and the cold air seemed to seep through the thin blanket, making him shiver. His gaze drifted over to the desk, where Scythe had said his gear was stored. Maybe going through it would give him something to focus on, something to distract him from the gnawing anxiety eating away at him.
Slowly, carefully, Medkit pushed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body protested the movement at first, his muscles stiff and sore, and he nearly slipped as his foot hit the slick spot where he had vomited earlier. He grimaced, steadying himself against the wall before making his way over to the desk.
Just as Scythe had said, his gear was there. He crouched down, wincing as his joints creaked, and began rummaging through the box. His fingers brushed against the familiar tools and equipment, things he had used countless times before, but as his vision narrowed around something small and smooth, he paused, pulling it out to examine it more closely.
It was a crystal, one he had studied during his time with Subspace. Medkit held it up to the dim light, turning it over in his hands, studying the way it faintly glowed green. The memory of Subspace’s face flashed in his mind, and for a moment, his stomach twisted with nausea.
Subspace.
Just thinking of the name made Medkit’s skin crawl.
Such an awful name, and an even worse person.
He shuddered at the thought, his hands tightening around the crystal as he tried to force any memories of him away.
As if to drown out the unwanted thoughts, Medkit closed his eyes, sat fully down on the floor, and leaned back against the wall. But instead of finding peace, his mind wandered elsewhere, to a different time, a different place.
Medkit was leaning against a grimy subway wall, waiting for a train to Blackrock. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow glow over the dirty tiles, and the air was thick with the stench of old, stagnant water. Medkit felt drained, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him as he waited for the next train.
Footsteps echoed down the empty platform, and Medkit turned his head, squinting as a figure approached. There was something familiar about them, something he couldn’t quite place. Four bright pink horns adorned their head, the vibrant color standing out against the otherwise drab environment. They wore a Blackrock uniform, but their face was blurred, distorted in a way that made Medkit’s head ache to look at.
The figure walked up to him, smiling unnaturally as they handed him a cup of coffee. It was strange, everything about them felt wrong, off, but Medkit was too tired to question it. He accepted the coffee, sipping it without really tasting it as he waited for the train.
When the train finally arrived, Medkit boarded, sitting down in one of the old, worn seats. The figure with the pink horns followed, sitting next to him with that same unnerving cheerfulness, even lightly tapping Medkit’s boots with their tail.
“█████?” The demon sitting next to Medkit spoke, their voice muffled and distorted, as if they were speaking from underwater. Medkit couldn’t understand the words, but he nodded anyway, sipping his coffee as the train rattled along the tracks… wait, no… it wasn’t technically Medkit’s coffee.
Time passed in a blur, and before Medkit knew it, the train had arrived at his stop. Medkit stood, throwing ██ empty cup away as he stepped off the train, the snow outside biting at his skin. The figure followed him, their footsteps soft and almost inaudible as they trailed behind.
Medkit didn’t question it. He was too tired, too numb to care. He unlocked the door to his home, stepping inside, and the figure followed without a word. Medkit barely registered their presence as he made his way to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress without bothering to remove his clothes. His body felt heavy, leaden with exhaustion, and he barely had the energy to pull the blankets over himself.
The figure climbed into bed beside him, their body curling around his, their tail wrapping possessively around his leg. Medkit laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind foggy and distant. He could feel the figure’s breath against his neck, hot and damp, and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine. They whispered something into his skin, words he couldn’t understand, but the sound made his flesh crawl.
Their lips pressed against his collarbone, soft and gentle, but Medkit’s skin burned where they touched. He wanted to scream, to push them away, but his body refused to move. He felt trapped, suffocated by their presence, as if their very existence was poisoning him. Their lips trailed up his neck, and then their teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth sank into his flesh, and a wave of burning pain shot through him.
Oh, how could Medkit forget how he agreed to invite them home at work today after they asked to hang out again. They were only being a good friend after all to Medkit. They would never lie… right?
Medkit’s body tensed, every nerve on fire as his mind screamed in protest. He wanted to tear them off, to rip their jaw away from his skin, but he was helpless, paralyzed. The pain was overwhelming, consuming him, as their kisses and bites left searing trails along his skin. Medkit groaned as they shifted on top of him and the unnamed demon lapped at the blood trickling from Medkit’s neck from the bites. They slid their hand under Medkit’s uniform, groping at his chest as…
Medkit awoke slowly. His head pounded with a dull, throbbing ache, and his body felt heavy, as if weighed down by unseen chains. His left eye socket, where his eye should have been, still ached. Groggily, he blinked his remaining eye open, and focused on his heartbeat that was definitely much faster than should be normal.
“Hey! You’re finally awake! …Took you long enough…”
The voice was bright, almost too bright, and it grated against Medkit’s ears. He turned his head to see a demon standing in front of him, shaking him lightly by the shoulder. The demon looked to be shorter than him, with a playful smile plastered across his face and a tail that was thin with a pointed tip, similar to an arrowhead, small chunks missing along its length. A shackle, rusted and worn, encircled his right wrist, and an X-shaped scar marred the skin above his left eye. His energy seemed completely at odds with the heavy, oppressive atmosphere that clung to the room like a thick mist.
“I’m Broker!” the demon introduced himself with a flourish, his grin widening as if he were genuinely pleased to meet Medkit. “Scythe’s out harvesting again, sooo I’m here to guide you today!” His voice was bright and it felt out of place in the stark, cold room. Without waiting for a response, he continued, speaking in a rapid, breathless stream. “Oh yeah, here’s the Church’s handbook. It’s got all the rules, times, and blah blah blah for the Church. Make sure you memorize everything in it now that you’re part of the family, I would hate to see you get punished for something silly~.”
Medkit blinked, still trying to process what Broker was saying as the demon thrust a small, worn book into his hand. It was old, the cover faded and the pages yellowed with age, but the title on the front read, in neat, gold-embossed letters: The Church of the TRUE EYE. Before Medkit could even react, Broker shoved something else into his other hand, folded fabric, dark green and neatly pressed.
“Here’s your new uniform. Make sure you’re presentable, can’t have you looking like a slob. Breakfast is in 15 minutes!” Broker’s words tumbled out so fast, Medkit barely had time to register them before the demon turned on his heel and waltzed out of the room, humming some strange tune under his breath.
Medkit sat there for a moment, staring at the door Broker had just exited through, still holding the handbook and uniform in his hands. His mind felt sluggish. Everything about this place, these people, this situation, was bizarre. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face with one hand as he tried to shake the sleep he really wanted about now from his mind.
His eye stung, the pain from the socket more pronounced now that he was fully awake. He had fallen asleep on the floor the night before, though the details of the strange, haunting dream he’d had were already slipping away, lost in the haze of morning. It was probably better that way. He didn’t want to remember it.
With a sigh, Medkit stood up, his limbs stiff and protesting the movement. He tossed the handbook onto the desk. Medkit hadn’t even opened it yet, and already it felt like a burden. He unfolded the uniform, inspecting it with a mix of curiosity. The pants were almost identical to the ones Scythe had worn, a deep forest green diamond pattern, and the suit provided was made of a dark green heavy material adorned with intricate gold embroidery. A teal cravat was tucked inside, adding a pop of color to the otherwise muted tones.
Medkit glanced down at the Blackrock uniform he was still wearing, the familiar fabric feeling strange and out of place in this new environment. He shrugged it off, dropping it onto the bed in a crumpled heap, and pulled on the Church uniform. It was snug, tailored to fit just right, though the stiff fabric made him feel constrained, like it was meant to restrain him as much as it was meant to present him.
As he dressed, Medkit spotted a small drawer in the desk and pulled it open, finding a plain, wooden-handled hairbrush inside. He sat back down, taking his eyepatch off, and began brushing his tangled hair. Before putting his eyepatch back on, he reached up, almost absentmindedly, and touched the hollow of his left eye socket. The skin there was tender, the scar tissue rough under his fingers. He sighed again, the weight of everything pressing down on him all at once, his missing eye, the strange cult he had found himself entangled in, the uncertain future ahead.
Medkit had no idea what this Church was and already managed to call it a cult, causing him face palm.
He put the eyepatch back on, the familiar pressure of the band settling over his head like a small, comforting burden, and made his way out of the room. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of something damp and old. The walls were made of the same sandstone-like material as the room he had slept in, though the corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, branching off into shadows in every direction.
Medkit followed the sound of footsteps and low murmurs, joining a group of demons who were all dressed in the same dark green uniforms, their cravats neatly tied around their necks. They moved in unison, walking toward a large, open room at the end of the corridor. As Medkit stepped inside, he realized it was a dining hall. Long tables stretched from one end to the other, and demons of all shapes and sizes were crammed into every available seat. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, and the clatter of dishes being served echoed off the high stone walls.
Medkit made his way to the end of the hall, trying to keep to himself as much as possible. He found a spot against the wall, away from the crowded tables, and waited as food was distributed. When a plate was placed in front of him, he stared down at it, feeling a wave of nausea rise in his throat. The food was… bleak, to say the least. It looked like some kind of grayish mush, with a side of something that might have once been bread but now looked more like a hardened piece of clay. He poked at it with his fork, his stomach turning at the sight.
Reluctantly, Medkit took a bite, forcing himself to chew and swallow. The taste was bland, almost metallic, and his throat tightened as he struggled to keep it down. His body still hadn’t fully recovered, and the mere act of eating felt like a monumental task, though as Medkit thought about it he wondered if it was maybe just the horrid food. Medkit pushed the plate away, his appetite completely gone.
“Hey, you gonna eat that?”
Medkit glanced up to see a demon sitting across from him, eyeing his untouched plate hungrily. Without a word, Medkit shook his head and slid the plate across the table. The other demon wasted no time digging in, shoveling the food into his mouth with a fervor that made Medkit’s stomach churn even more.
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. Medkit kept to himself, watching the demons around him with a mix of wariness and curiosity. They all seemed so… invested in this strange place, in the routines and properties of the Church. He couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, like he didn’t belong here.
Well, he was an outsider since he didn’t what to be here in the first place. He would much rather be in Blackrock, he just couldn’t go back for obvious reasons.
After about thirty minutes, the demons began to file out of the dining hall, and Medkit followed, blending into the crowd as they moved toward another part of the building. He learned quickly that they were heading to the nave of the church, a vast, ornate room filled with rows of pews and towering statues carved from stone. The air inside was cool, almost cold, and the dim light filtered through stained glass windows, casting eerie shadows across the room.
Medkit took a seat at the very back, keeping his head down as the demons filled the pews around him. The ceremony began, led by an older demon known as “The Father”,who stood at the front of the nave, spouting religious nonsense that Medkit couldn’t make sense of. His voice droned on, and Medkit felt himself zoning out, his mind wandering as he glanced around the room. The statues lining the walls were intricate, their faces frozen in expressions of reverence or anguish, and the high, vaulted ceiling made the entire space feel oppressive, like the weight of the stone above was pressing down on him.
At the front of the room, Scythe and Broker stood beside “The Father”, Scythe even holding something aloft in her hands. It was bloody, though from where Medkit was sitting, he couldn’t quite make out what it was. The crowd of demons around him erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a fevered pitch as they chanted in unison. Medkit felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. Whatever Scythe was holding, it had to do with the “harvesting” she had mentioned earlier, he at least picked that up.
When the ceremony finally ended, Medkit stood, watching as the other demons began to file out of the room. He followed, his mind still reeling from the strange, ritualistic display he had just witnessed. Just as he reached the door, he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned to see Scythe standing behind him, a sly grin playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Hey," a familiar voice called out from behind him. It was Scythe, her voice laced with the unmistakable mix of confidence and mischief that Medkit had come to associate with her. "Remember when I told ya that I needed a favor done if you were to stick around?"
Medkit blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The ceremony had left him distracted, and Scythe’s words took a moment to register. He turned to face her, his eyes scanning her expression. There was something unsettlingly casual about the way she grinned at him that Medkit didn’t like.
"Look," Scythe continued, her grin widening, "I know you’ve got experience with machinery, 'Kit. I could really use your expertise with something." She slung her gear off her back and thrust it into Medkit’s hands. "Think you can work your magic on this and make it into something like a rifle for me, yeah?"
Medkit’s hands instinctively tightened around the cold, metallic device she had handed over. Medkit turned the gear over in his hands, inspecting it closely. Medkit thought it shouldn’t be too hard to do and wanted to go ahead and get it done to hopefully not talk to Scythe longer than he had to.
"How do you know me and my abilities?" Medkit asked cautiously, still unsure of how much these demons knew about him. His voice was calm, but there was an underlying sense of wariness fear as his eyes flickered up to meet hers.
Scythe let out a chuckle, her expression a mix of amusement and confidence. "How wouldn’t I know a famous scientist like ya?" she replied, her tone dripping with a playful arrogance. "The new uniform you're sporting looks way better than that Blackrock one you used to wear, by the way. Suits ya better."
The mention of Blackrock made Medkit tense for a moment, though he quickly composed himself. Medkit hated how the simple mention of Blackrock now made him tense, though there were too many questions swirling in his head about how they, or well Scythe, had found out about him. Before he could delve any deeper into his thoughts, Scythe’s tone darkened.
"Oh, and just so we’re clear," she added, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as she leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing, "if you mess up my gear, even in the tiniest little way… you're done for."
Medkit held her gaze, the weight of her threat sinking in. He knew better than to take her words lightly. Scythe didn’t seem like one to make empty promises, and there was something in her tone that made him believe she would carry through with her warning without hesitation. He watched her saunter off, her confident stride leaving no room for doubt. The grin on her face lingered in his mind, the playful menace behind it unsettling.
Once she was gone, Medkit exhaled deeply, his fingers gripping her gear a little tighter, and he made his way back to the room he had been given. Once inside, he closed the door behind him with a soft click and immediately set to work.
Medkit rummaged through his gear, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper, ans pulled the chair back into it’s proper place. The desk was uncomfortable, its hard wooden surface, though it was the only suitable place to work, so he sat down, laying Scythe’s gear and his paper in front of him.
The hours began to slip away as Medkit’s mind became fully engrossed in the task at hand. His pen darted across the paper, sketching out rough blueprints of how he would modify Scythe's gear. He muttered to himself under his breath, calculating the exact mechanisms he would need to adjust, the type of work required, and the precision with which he would need to work to turn this scythe into a functional rifle. Every time he thought he had figured something out, a new issue presented itself, forcing him to rethink his approach.
As time dragged on, Medkit became so absorbed in his work that he didn’t even notice when lunch had passed. His stomach growled softly in protest due to his lack of eating for the past day, but he ignored it. Just as Medkit was leaning in to inspect a particularly delicate component, the door to his room suddenly flew open. Startled, Medkit’s hand jerked, causing the sharp tool he had been holding to slip, pricking his finger and causing a small bead of blood to trickle from the wound.
"Hey, Meds!" a voice called out cheerily. Medkit glanced up, wincing as he applied pressure to his finger. It was Broker, standing in the doorway with his usual wide grin plastered across his face. "I saw you skipped lunch," Broker continued, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just caused Medkit to injure himself. "Don’t worry, skipping meals isn’t punishable or anything. But hey, how about joining us for dinner instead? You wouldn’t want to only eat breakfast all day, right?"
Broker’s tone was upbeat and friendly, but Medkit felt like the opposite. He forced a small, tight-lipped smile in response, his mind still preoccupied with the work scattered across the desk in front of him. Reluctantly, Medkit stood up, deciding it would be best not to offend Broker by refusing the offer. After all, the last thing he needed was to create any more trouble.
The two walked to the dining hall together in silence. The air between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts, though neither seemed inclined to break the quiet. Once inside, Medkit found his past spot at the table and sat down, though this time, he made no move to take any of the food being offered.
As dinner passed, Medkit’s thoughts drifted once again, and before he knew it, the nighttime ceremony had come and gone. He returned to his room, his legs feeling heavier with each step, and sank back into the chair at his desk. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn’t rest just yet. There was still work to be done.
Sitting back at the desk, Medkit let out a long sigh. His thoughts briefly wandered to the earlier encounter with Broker. He was frustrated with himself for being so easily startled. It wasn’t like him to be that on edge. What had gotten into him? Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Scythe’s gear, inspecting the progress he had made.
His eyelids felt heavier with each passing minute, and despite his best efforts to stay awake, a yawn escaped his lips. The hours of work, combined with the weight of the day’s events, had drained him more than he realized. Unable to muster the energy to move back to his bed, Medkit slumped forward in his chair, his head resting on the desk. The faint sound of his soft breathing was the only thing that filled the room as he drifted off to sleep, still surrounded by the remnants of his work.