Shock and Awe

by Saucebrey

Summary:

“Medkit, for your crimes against the inphernals of the factions, that include but are not limited to, Aiding and abetting, Burglary, Fraud and involuntary manslaughter, the court of Banland herby sentences you to…”

 

Medkit stared up at the judge with a blank expression, hearing the charges against him fall onto his ears. He wasn’t proud of the things he did for the church, the things they made him do, but he supposed he did them anyways, and that adds up.

 

He probably could have gotten away with it too, if he had just stayed with the church, instead of running away and getting arrested so they wouldn’t find him. Prison was far better than death, at least he’d get to live without being constantly used and made to do the church’s dirty work.

 

At least he’d get to live.

 

“...Death by the electric chair.”

 

What.

 

(Medkit evades fate once again.)

Chapter 1: Shock

“Medkit, for your crimes against the inphernals of the factions, that include but are not limited to, Aiding and abetting, Burglary, Fraud and involuntary manslaughter, the court of Banland herby sentences you to…”

Medkit stared up at the judge with a blank expression, hearing the charges against him fall onto his ears. He wasn’t proud of the things he did for the church, the things they made him do, but he supposed he did them anyways, and that adds up.

He probably could have gotten away with it too, if he had just stayed with the church, instead of running away and getting arrested so they wouldn’t find him. Prison was far better than death, at least he’d get to live without being constantly used and made to do the church’s dirty work.

At least he’d get to live.

“...Death by the electric chair.”

 

What.

He knew the Inpherno’s judicial system was fucked up, but he didn’t know it was this bad! The judge’s gavel struck onto its base like a gunshot to his chest as he felt the world around him slow to a stop. All of this, it didn’t even matter, he was going to die anyway.

His ears began to ring as he heard the jury muttered to each other, unable to focus on anything but his now looming fate. He had nowhere left to run to. His heart rate spiked in his chest.

As guards grabbed him by his arms, shoving him around to walk back to his cell, Medkit couldn’t even feel his feet beneath him. He fought so hard, for so long, he ran everywhere he could, and still, he was going to be killed by the people with authority over him.

The clinks of his metal handcuffs behind him got louder as he tensed his hands. What was this feeling? Anger? Despair? Disappointment? …Relief? It was that feeling like when you dedicate your life to running and you just realised you're perpetually in last place. Thoughts whirled fast and heavy in Medkit’s head as he was led out the doors of the courtroom.

His feet dragged against the floor as he continued to walk, for some reason, his body moving even though he knew there was reason to it. There wasn’t anybody coming to save him. He’d spend one year suspended in a cell above lava in the Banlands, and then be brought out to die alone by electrical current frying every bodily system he has.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a cell in Banlands, his head resting forward against the bars as his eye stared almost dreamily down at the bubbling lava below. How pathetic. How, when, what, why did he let himself become this? Who was there to blame other than himself and his own selfish desires?

Maybe he’d have had an easier life if he let himself remain a puppet of Blackrock, maybe he’d be safe and sheltered if he had kept doing whatever crimes the church asked of him. If only he was satisfied with the little things. If only he didn’t constantly ache for something better, a ‘better’ he didn’t even know where to find.

A bead of sweat crept down his forehead as he shifted on the floor of his cage, letting his back lean against the bars as he now turned his gaze to the stone ceiling above him. Even the sky outside of the cell was darkened from all the volcano ash, he could hardly breathe. The stars that he never had the chance to admire hid behind smoke to avoid bringing comfort to someone like him.

For the first time, in a long time, Medkit let the sweat on his face mix with tears wallowing in his eye. It was pathetic, honestly, he knew it, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He’s on death row, to hell with his pride anyways.

He couldn’t stand the heat of Banland. He was sweating from every part of his body, every part of his body aches. Especially his chest, his heart pounds and twists in it, the idea that everything he sacrificed, risked, would be utterly insignificant soon.

He bit his lip, trembling as he tried not to sob like a child. His hands moved into his disgustingly messy hair, gripping onto it and tugging on his scalp, trying to create a pain worse than the one in his chest. Rivers, lakes and oceans crumbled the dam between his heart and his face.

Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered. He suffered past all the messes his life dragged him though, and none of it mattered. It changed nothing in the end, except maybe who’s hand he was dying from.

The stone and metal cage swung vaguely on its chain. Death row inmates seemed to get the short hand of the stick. Just a small room with no bed, suspended above the opening of Banland’s volcano. The grating sound from the chains only made everything worse, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Without thinking too much, he slammed his hand down against the floor, causing a small wound to split open on his knuckles, surrounded by bruising. Medkit groaned in pain, cradling his hand against his chest as he tried to fight back against the tears spilling like rivers from his eye.

A part of him wished he could just jump in the lava now, so he didn’t have to suffer through the dread. But what if Sword wanted to come see him? Would he really deny his brother a chance to see him one last time?

Thinking of Sword only made the pain worse, teeth sinking deeper into his lip as he imagined just how disappointed and ashamed he must feel, now knowing what Medkit was doing in the church all this time. Medkit whined, sniffling as his nose started to run from his sad self-pity spree.

He hated this. He hated himself for this. For letting this happen. For even getting himself into this situation in the first place. For going against his morals, time and time again, for the sake of staying under the church’s protection. He hated himself.

As his tears splashed against the floor of the cell, he heard yelling from down below. Medkit quickly rubbed his eye and wiped his nose with his hand, trying to compose himself a bit as he felt the cage rumble, and begin to slowly be brought down to the platform below.

His fingertips grasped the bars of the cell as it moved, looking down at the person below who had called the order as he tried to stop sniffling.

Oh great, the warden had come out of his way to mock him. Fantastic. Banhammer was exactly the kind of person he wanted to see right now.

Letting out a deep, shaky exhale as the chains suspending his personal prison grinded together and lowered him to the ground, Medkit tried to be composed. Banhammer didn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing how he broke.

“Yeesh, rough day?” Banhammer mocked as the cage met the ashen, solid ground of the volcano. He was clearly failing to hide his amusement at finally having a member of the church in one of his cages. That is, assuming he was trying at all.

Medkit turned to look at him, sweaty and disgusting with snot and tears streaking down his face. “What. Do. you. Want? Or, are you just here to torture me for fun? Swing me into the lava for golf practice?” He grumbled, still trying feebly to clean his face as he got to his feet.

Like a deer caught in headlights, Medkit stared up at Banhammer’s figure as the warden sauntered closer to the bars of the cell. Although he wasn’t quite frozen in fear, more just… annoyance, maybe even challenge. After all, he didn’t have much to lose.

“Unfortuneatly, I do need something. Luckily for you, it involves a deal. One that gets you off of deathrow.” Banhammer scoffed, sighing as if disappointed that he couldn’t practice his golf swing on him.

Medkit raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared at the warden, looking up at his four-eyed, smug face. Thankfully, Medkit’s  already learned how to manage his personality from doing phights together. Medkit already knows that Banhammer’s just toying with his meal.

“What kind of deal? What am I signing away here?” He questioned, as if he had anything to lose at his point. Part of him just wanted to jump for joy and agree immediately when Banhammer asked.

The demigod placed his large hands on his hips, smirking as if impressed by Medkit’s cautiousness. “Banland needs a doctor for prisoners, It’s an ethics thingy, or whatever. And the issue is, I don’t have one. You’d work for Banland, live on the premises, but I’d pay you, and you wouldn’t be on death row anymore.”

Banhammer shrugged as he said that, watching steadily to Medkit’s reaction. His four eyes were locked on Medkit’s face as he thought it over, watching the cogs turn in Medkit’s head as he thought of all possible outcomes to this decision. The tears in his eyes began to dry up as he realised that, maybe, there was hope for him still.


“And you want me, because…? Why not just hire a doctor?” Medkit questioned again, searching for the catch that surely comes with this deal.

The warden shrugged once more, shifting his mighty figure on his feet. “Maybe, because I already know you're a competent doctor and I had a sudden stroke of empathy, or, maybe it's because I want the phights to stay balanced by having two healers available.”


Is that really what this was about? Did Banhammer care so much about winning in Phights that he’d essentially give Medkit a conditional pardon just so he could keep competing? Surely not, but he didn’t have many other choices, and he didn’t have anything left to lose.

“Deal.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fate was picking favourites, and fate was picking him. The amount of times he’s escaped death now is uncanny. Although, each escape always comes with a catch that makes his life worse, a catch he can’t ever escape from,  so maybe it’s not favourites.

Banhammer took Medkit all around Banland, all the many different parts of it. It was far more of a complex prison than he expected. The hanging cells above the volcano’s lava are solitary confinement, only used for death row inmates and the real dangers to society.

The rest of the structure was on the other side of the volcano, a big blackstone building where most prisoners were held, completely swarming with guards that all greeted Banhammer as they walked past.

Banland never seemed like a welcoming place to Medkit, but seeing how shackled freaks pressed themselves against the bars of their cage, groaning complaints and quips as he and the warden passed made him shudder. Then he remembered. Not freaks, people. He probably would’ve been put in here if the judge wasn’t so temperamental.

There was this looming feeling above him as he walked with his head down, a dread. Like there was a dagger balancing on the back of his neck. A dagger that would plunge into his skin if he breathed too hard or moved slightly too quick. The glances from the stone-faced guards weren’t helping him feel any less hopeless.

Maybe the guards were glaring at him like he was an insect that they were fighting the itch to squash between their fingers because of how many times the church had broken their members out of Banland. Lucky for them, he supposed, because Medkit’s certain that they are not coming to save anyone this time.

“Here. Your clinic. And you’re lucky that the court is on my ass right now, or you’d be sleepin’ in here too.” Banhammer explains, opening a pale wooden door to a small room. There was some medical equipment, medicine cabinets and a few small beds, as well as a tiny desk at the back of the room with a lamp that had a flickering bulb.

The room’s scent hit Medkit like a punch to the face. Surely the last doctor quit after an inmate died in here and nobody could be bothered to clean up, or the room had grown a new form of mould so potent that it could turn the entire prison into zombies by just taking a whiff.

“ Lovely. ” He muttered sarcastically as his eye darted across the room, taking a miniature inventory on what the prison had. He’d make it work. He has to, he fears. “Where am I sleeping then?” Medkit questioned, turning back to Banhammer, whose expression was a striking mixture of suspicious and oddly intrigued.

“With the other on-site employees. The staff quarters. Your room will lock at 9:00 every night though, can’t have you escaping.” The demigod muttered in reply, a grim smirk twitching vaguely on his face at the thought of Medkit escaping. Medkit shuddered.

Banhammer lived for the chase. A wolf, dog, shark, dinosaur, dragon, whatever you wanted to call him, Banhammer had teeth carved for hunting and was known for cackling like a rabid hyena as he chased down escaped prisoners. Medkit wasn’t even going to think about trying.

The prison’s environment seemed to slowly become cleaner and cleaner as they approached the staff area of the prison. The walls turned from a dusty, rough black to sleek, smooth, white tile as Banhammer walked up to two doors, reaching for something in his pocket.

A purple keycard was pressed against a sensor near the door, the device beeping as the doors slid open. The inside was more bustling than he expected it to be, employees sitting around tables and chatting over a meal.

Banhammer pushed the keycard against Medkit’s chest, who fumbled to grab it, forgetting that he could use his hands again now that he had no handcuffs, and then slipped it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

Suddenly, a piercing whistle ran through the room, cutting off the chatter as Banhammer brought attention to his presence. Medkit had to convince himself he wasn’t experiencing cardiac arrest as all the eyes in the room landed on him.

“Attention! This is the Doc’ I told you about before. I know you were all there for the briefing but just a reminder that under no circumstances should anyone assume he has to be treated like a prisoner or order him to do anything but his job . Clear?”


The room mumbled various agreements as Medkit listened carefully. He was under the impression that he was still a prisoner, his cell had just changed from a glorified birdcage to a lifetime of mind-numbing routine. But if that were true, why was Banhammer not drinking in the amusement of letting his employees treat him like dirt? Maybe he was saving all that excitement for himself..

“The one at the back with the orange horns is in charge of inmate health and safety, so she’s technically your boss, I guess.” Banhammer explained to Medkit, pointing at a tall orange-horned inphernal at the back of the room, she was glaring icy daggers at him as she held a piece of meat on a fork in front of her face, like she was angry at this useless announcement interrupting her meal.

Banhammer gave Medkit a mocking pat on the back before heading across the room, his heavy, plated armor clanking surprisingly quietly to the other side of the staff quarters, which presumably led to the bedrooms. “Have fun, Doc. No promises about if they bite.” He abandoned Medkit, chuckling at his own joke as he left the room.

Despite Banhammer being anything but a friendly face, part of Medkit wished he had someone around that he at least recognised. Someone who knew him, even if only partly, for something other than working for that creepy cult.

Like clockwork they all blinked at him, like that silence between friends when the person they were gossiping about for the past half hour turns out to be sitting right behind them, and they don’t know whether to start crying or laughing.

Then, the chatter slowly started up again, but now came in vague murmurs and whispered theories as to why Banhammer, the warden of the Banlands and son of a deity, decided that one mortal he doesn’t even like deserves a second chance to live.

With each table in the room having some kind of group sitting at it, Medkit decides to glance at the keycard Banhammer gave him instead, hoping to find his room. After his spectacular day today, he decides that he doesn’t want to eat.

Creeping through the hallways, Medkit was as silent as a mouse, as if being quiet would stop any of this from happening, allowing him to sprint out the doors and run safely back to his apartment. His heart almost clenched for that raggedy living space. Almost.

Room 43, the card read, Medkit counted each door he passed. 37…38…39…

Some sick, twisted part of him thought that this wasn’t worth leaving the church. That he should have stayed their loyal doctor, engineer, getaway driver, whatever else they made him be. 40…41…42…

But he felt reality return to him quick, like he had just stepped on a beartrap now gnawing at his leg. This is probably what he deserved? Wasn’t it? After everything he did for them, of course he didn’t have the right to be pardoned. Some disgusting, vile voice riles in his head, and it growls that he’s no better than they are. 43. His room.

The door creaked slightly when he pushed it open. Blank, white, sterile, what else was he expecting? A mirror meets him on the small desk as he takes a seat, and he sees his reflection without his eyepatch on, the first time he has in a while.

The stitches that so graciously hide his horrific, empty eyesocket stare back at him. It was such a clean cut, no scarring, just no eye. Medkit got out of the chair, throwing his jacket over the mirror and began to climb into bed.

What is he thinking? The church is made up of psychopaths, Medkit’s a survivor . Maybe he deserved the harsher punishment, maybe he didn’t. But he’s here still, somehow he’s still here. And survival is the one thing he is not planning to give up.

Fighting the urge to cling to his pillow, Medkit groans. Fate chooses favourites, and now, he’s sure he’s not one of them. But he’s defied the will of his fate so many times. He’s never going to stop. Never, until he’s safe and living. Never, until he’s free.

Notes:

I'm gonna commit to finishing this !!! I say as they drag me back to the asylum. But y'know hopefully I get blessed with some motivation and write 14 chapters in two weeks and then I can jump for joy knowing that I actually finished writing something longer than three chapters.

Chapter 2: Working days and nights

Work makes the world go around! That was the quote Blackrock spat onto as many propaganda posters as they could. They might as well have tattooed it into Medkit’s skin, because it seemed that he could never avoid it.

Even now, after not having been in Blackrock for basically a decade, even after escaping people trying to kill him time and time again. He still lives it out like it’s his personal motto.

Medkit had already checked out two today, two bunkmates got in a scuffle and the guards sent them to him. Minor injuries, nothing that would really matter.

It’s not like Medkit wasn’t expecting to be only valued for his work. That’s why Blackrock trained him the way they did. He was an engineer and a doctor, two professions mastered by basically nobody in the Inpherno. He was valuable.

It was merely a dream in the back of his mind, getting to do anything more with his life except work and work and work some more.

A soft knock on the door of his clinic rudely threw him out of his thoughts. Knocking was too polite to be Banhammer, and it was too quiet outside to be a guard, wrangling an injured prisoner like a misbehaving dog to his doorstep. So… who was it?

Pulling the door open, he graciously accepted the break from breathing in the stench in the clinic, only to be met with the orange-horned person from the previous night. Medkit’s boss, according to Banhammer.

“Lantern. You are?” The orange-horned inphernal, Lantern, got straight to the point, extending a gloved hand for him to shake. Her expression was polite and warm, but the furrow in her eyebrows and bags under her eyes presented her underlying stress.

He accepted the handshake. “Medkit. Can I help you?” He replied, before she burst her way into the clinic, pushing past him and throwing a stack of binders and books onto the desk near the back, not daring to give him a second to protest.

“Yes, you can.” She muttered, flicking through pages like her life was on the line. Lantern then ripped a page out and held it out to Medkit, who kind of just stood there like an idiot until she rattled the paper around and glared at him. “Read that.”

Medkit skimmed the page, mildly overwhelmed by her rushed demeanor. All the paper said was a whole bunch of rules and regulations about being an employee at Banland, mostly filled with things he already sort of figured.

“I am the head of inmate health and safety at Banland, therefore, you work for me, I work for Banhammer. Understand?” Lantern explained, pacing around the room like a ticking clock, but she didn’t wait for Medkit to give her an answer. “That means, I have to make sure you do your job right. So, y’know, read that, and get back to me if you need anything.”

Medkit paused, feeling a slight amount of whiplash for her shooting through this conversation like a bullet. “Uh, uhm, yeah, uh-huh, uh, sure.” He replied, feeling like an idiot the second his mutterings of confusion left his mouth.

Lantern nodded, before vanishing out of the room nearly as quickly as she had appeared. She was odd, he thought, but the kind of odd that was helpful and not a headache to be around.

So, he returned to his ‘work.’ Which, for the most part, currently consisted of watching paint dry as he waited for some inmate to trip over his own foot or shove an apple core up her own nose.

—-----

 

Medkit wasn’t used to waiting around, and he’s honestly shocked Lantern hadn’t returned and put him to work until someone needs him in the clinic. He thought he’d be scrubbing blood off the thick, rough, cold blackstone floors of the prison by now.

But in an almost sad, messed-up way, a part of Medkit wished he was being productive. This job is keeping him alive, after all. He’s used to being constantly working and now he’s a little unsure of what to do with himself when he’s got free time.

Maybe he could’ve taken a walk, looked for something to do, but Banland isn’t a place he plans to explore alone, especially not when every breathing being here associates him with the church.

Luckily for him, he’s quickly given something to do when a guard practically kicks open the door to his clinic, hauling an unresponsive body on his back, and Medkit immediately springs back to life.

“What happened?” Medkit questioned the guard as they placed the unconscious inphernal onto one of the beds in the clinic. His eye scans over the body, looking for obvious injuries or symptoms until he comes to a realisation. A very puzzling realisation.

The inphernal had dark skin, curly hair, arms littered in scars and two short horns, one orange and the other light blue, with the light blue one having a fragment of one of his own crystals haphazardly impeded into the body part. It’s Coil.

Coil, the kid who would attend phighting matches with him. The one who stole one of Medkit’s crystals while he was looking away, but Medkit couldn’t even be bothered to try and get it back, so he just let him keep it and didn’t even bother to question it when he showed up a few days later with it shoved into his horn. That Coil.

“I dunno, Banhammer brought him in for theft about twenty minutes ago, but he just… collapsed while I was taking him to his cell!” The guard replied to Medkit, who in his shock of discovering his next patient was someone he actually knew, had forgotten he had even asked them a question in the first place.

Coil was steady. He was breathing normally, and he didn’t seem to have any open injuries. His body seemed completely healthy as well, nothing outside of the ordinary. Medkit pressed his hand to Coil’s head. Except for a fever. Medkit placed a stethoscope to his chest. And a weakened heartbeat.

The guard eventually left as Medkit racked his brain for all that medical knowledge he had acquired at the church, all the tests he’d have to run for Scythe when she ended up injured.

It had been awhile since he’d actually had to treat someone for something other than physical injury, so he prays in the back of his mind that he still knows what he’s doing. He really doesn’t want to find out what’s going to happen to him if he’s unhelpful. His body tenses when his mind wanders back to being put on death row.

Medkit leaned to the side to open a drawer filled with needles, and was pleasantly surprised that the equipment was kept sterile. At least this place is doing one thing right.

Lifting Coil’s arm gently, Medkit precisely stuck the needle under his skin, drawing some of his blood in the looming silence of the room. Thankfully, although this clinic was missing a lot of vital equipment, Banland still saved the budget to have a blood tester.

Maybe Coil just had a cold and passed out from the heat, but that wouldn’t explain his heart being weak. Maybe he was overreacting, but Medkit would much rather overreact and look like an idiot, than underreact and get both Coil and himself killed.

The vial of blood clicked into the blood tester, Medkit switched it on, listening to the ear-grating noises it made as he began writing on his clipboard, trying to record what he’s found out so far.

He really hoped this isn’t how most of his days would go, having a prisoner who seemed otherwise fine collapse, leaving him to figure out what in SFOTH’s name was wrong with him.

The door to the clinic then burst open again, the lack of knocking, and heavy-sounding footsteps confirmed who it was without him ever even needing to look.

“The Phights are open today, I’m assumin’ your coming?” Banhammer asked, barely even minding Coil’s practically dying body on the other side of the room.

Medkit turned to look at him, blinking as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked at Banhammer, then at Coil, then back at Banhammer again before replying, “I’m a bit busy saving his life, unfortunately.”

A part of Medkit was shocked that Banhammer was even letting him attend Phighting matches still. But, if his reasoning for letting Medkit off of death row was the truth it makes sense. But Medkit isn’t stupid, and the warden isn’t that obsessed with winning.

Banhammer then looked over at Coil, his large figure slumping against the doorframe. “Well, what’s wrong with him?”

Medkit scrunched up his nose in irritation, sighing with his reply. “ That is exactly what I’m trying to find out. The blood test should be done in a few minutes or so.”

“Then I’ll wait a few minutes. I need the phights to be fair today, because I need to blow off some steam after catching this one.” The warden explained with a grumble, gesturing to Coil at the end of his sentence.

With a sigh, Medkit nodded in agreement, turning back to his notes. Medkit did want to go to the phights, to obtain just a sliver of normalcy back into his life. He’d see Sword again, see the sun again. Maybe, he hoped, maybe it would help him feel better about this new life.

Still, even though Medkit missed Sword, he couldn’t help but be worried over how Sword was going to react to seeing him. I mean, he disappeared off the face of the world, without giving him any explanation and then ended up on death row. Not exactly a great role model for someone who considers him like an older brother.

“Usually, momma doesn’t want me arresting playgrounders ‘cause they’re her territory or whatever. But she told me I could bring him in ‘cause he was causing too much trouble in the other factions. But that doesn’t mean he gave up easily.” Banhammer rambled, despite Medkit not asking, and clearly, not really caring about why Banhammer was so desperate for a good phight.

There’s no reply from Medkit, he doesn’t think Banhammer really deserves one, he just tapped the heel of his foot against the hard floor. He turned around in the uncomfortable wooden chair to get another good look at Coil, who didn’t seem like he was going to wake up any time soon. Banhammer glared at the clock on the wall as if watching the seconds go by would make it go faster.

BEEP

The blood tester let out a long, high-pitched squeal that probably echoed into the hallway and tormented the nearby prisoners. A piece of paper printed out the top, which Medkit ripped out and began to read, his eye skimming over each result until he found the one that really mattered.

Banhammer, who was nearly kicking dirt under his boots in impatient boredom, seemed to become more interested when he took in the expression that grew onto Medkit’s features. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?” He asked, half out of curiosity, half out of wanting to get out of here already, and none out of concern for the poor, unconscious boy.

With a bit of hesitation, Medkit opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He glanced between the demigod and the paper like the results were about him. He seemed to be in a trance of utter confusion, which only intrigued Banhammer more.

 “Cyanide.” Medkit muttered, turning the piece of paper to Banhammer, as if he could understand what it said and assure him that it was wrong. “He’s been poisoned. A-and not just mildly either, with this amount of cyanide, he should be dead!”

The four eyes on Banhammer’s face scanned the results, before he turned his head to look at Coil’s unconscious body. He then turned to meet Medkit’s gaze, his expression of surprise and… excitement? Of course he was excited, Medkit supposed, Banhammer drinks off of things that intrigue him. And this… he has to admit, is very intriguing.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m just asking. Could you think of anyone that might poison Coil?” Medkit interrogated, his fingers pinching at his nosebridge.

Skateboard huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared back at Medkit. “You work for Banland now, I’m not telling anything to no narc! Especially not after Coil got arrested.”

The Phighting lobby was warm and sunny, but it felt so relaxing after spending even a day in Banland’s volcanic climate. The phighters were all scattered around, each one either preparing for the next match or chatting within their little cliques. Sword wasn’t there, at least not yet.

Medkit felt the urge to grab Skateboard by the shoulders and rattle him around like a snow globe until he gained some common sense. But, he didn’t, he just glared through Skateboard’s soul with tired eyes. “I can’t arrest you, I’m a doctor. None of the usual cyanide treatments are working. I just want to know what exactly he was poisoned with so I can cure him. I don’t really care what you’ve done unless it was you that poisoned him."

“Me?! Coil’s my best buddy, I wouldn’t do that!” Skateboard defensively replied, stepping on his skateboard to make it stand up and hit his hand, looking honestly appalled that Medkit would even assume there was a chance he did that.

The good news was Coil seemed to have stabilised himself, likely due to the healing crystal he stuck in his horn. The bad news was that the cyanide was still in his system, fighting against his body, which had put him into a coma.

At least it meant that Medkit could come here, participate in a couple phights, get his mind off of the fact that he was once again working for his right to live. Nothing he wasn’t used to, but still, unfortunate.

Skateboard scoffed, lifting his board and tucking it under his arm as he rubbed his temple. “Look, just-.... I don’t know what happened to Coil, I hadn’t seen him in a week or so before he got arrested. He had enemies, everyone in Playground does, probably a rival gang or a sore-loser boxer or something.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

Medkit had been under the impression that aiding in Banland’s investigation, as well as figuring out how Coil got poisoned, would earn him a lot of brownie points, maybe get him a room with a view, or something or other.

Looking over at Skateboard again, it’s obvious that he’s trying to conceal his concern. He’s picking at the paint on his skateboard and biting the inside of his cheek.

“He’s gonna be fine though, right? Like, he’s not gonna die or anything.” Skateboard inquired, trying to withhold his demeanor by grinning while saying it, pretending the question was a joke.

It wasn’t a good idea to reassure him, not when Medkit didn’t know whether Coil’s condition would get better or worse, so he paused in silence. Although, Skateboard seemed to catch on to Medkit’s lack of words and took it for the worse, he just started glaring at him as he walked away, still biting the inside of his cheek.

Well, that interaction was hardly helpful, and Medkit can’t think of any other phighters that were close with Coil.  He supposed it narrowed it down a little, but if it was a rival playgrounder gang, there wasn’t really anything that could be done. Banhammer and the police forces had no jurisdiction in Playground.

Medkit placed his hands in his pockets. He really hated that they didn’t let him change out of the prison jumpsuit. They didn’t even give him a coat or anything to signalise he’s a doctor, he just looks like an escaped convict. Although, in a way, he kind of, almost, is.

Instead of dwelling on the terms of his new employment any further and making himself even more depressed, he wandered over to the teleporters that take them to whatever map the phight takes place on, innocently wondering what map it was going to be.

A voice caught the attention of not only Medkit, but several others around as it shrieked through the lobby.

“MEDKIT!!!!!!!” Sword cried, racing towards Medkit with his arms open in a way that made him want to pretend he didn’t know him and then die of embarrassment. It sort of killed him to admit it, but he really missed feeling like that, he missed him.

Sword seemed to fight the urge to hug him, nearly tearing up as he stopped shortly in front of Medkit. The sight made Medkit scoff, his expression softening slightly at the sight of him. “I missed you too.” He simply replied.

It was strange, seeing Sword sniffle like this. It wasn’t very hard to make him cry, Sword had always been a very emotional person, but seeing him look so… relieved and happy just by seeing him. Medkit didn’t know what to make of it.

“I thought you were gonna die!” Sword sobbed, unable to stop himself from grabbing Medkit’s shoulders and shaking him around slightly, depicting his excitement to see him again. Medkit had to grab his wrists to make him stop.

For a split second, Medkit’s face twitched up into a smile. “Banhammer and I struck a deal. I work as a doctor for the prison now. It’s not… ideal, but… at least I’m not on death row?”

He knew that he meant a lot to Sword, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Sword meant a lot to him too. He’s the only person he would really consider his friend. So, when Sword finally cracked, throwing his arms around Medkit and holding him close, he didn’t push him away. He did flinch, he did freeze up for a split second, but he didn’t dare try and force him away.

With Sword’s face in his shoulder, Medkit paused, his hands outstretched slightly in an awkward freeze. It felt wrong for him to show any kind of vulnerability, but his arms hesitantly returned Sword’s embrace. He hated physical contact, he’d go to lengths to avoid it, but Sword? Sword was like a brother to him, and Medkit was…. Touched , to know that someone, anyone, would have missed him like this.

It wasn’t long until Sword, seemingly guilty about hugging him suddenly like that in the first place, pulled away from the embrace. “S-sorry, about that… I’m just glad you’re okay.” He muttered with a warm grin, wiping some of the tears and snot off of his face.

Medkit never really thought he’d be missed that much. Maybe it was part of why he struggled to recognise when he cared about people, because in his mind, a part of him knew they probably only kept him around for his skills or his work. That’s just the way the world works, or at least, that’s how Medkit always thought about it. 

Sword, somehow, was the exception. Medkit didn’t think it was possible for an inphernal to have so much goodness inside them, and yet Sword acted like a puppy seeing its owner coming home each time they met with each other.

“You worry too much.” Medkit would tease, unable to stop the soft smirk appearing on his face as he placed his hands back into the pockets of his jumpsuit. “Somehow, it seems I always get what I want.” That’s not true, Medkit knows it, and perhaps Sword knows it too. But from the outside, with how many times he’s narrowly avoided death, from how many times he’s been able to gain the protection of a higher power? To most, Medkit seemed to be disgustingly ambitious.

Unfortunately, they ran out of time to dwell on it, as a loudspeaker booming out Valk’s voice confirmed that the round was starting shortly, and that they had to get to the teleporters. 

As Medkit walked, followed by Sword, who was yapping away about how his life went while Medkit was being sentenced to death, he felt normal. For the first time in an eternity, it felt like everything was normal.

And for the first time in an eternity, he felt the soft, warm rays of hope kiss his mind.

Notes:

Shhhh this is not just an excuse to put one of my OCs in here!! haha it'd be crazy if I did that guys, right? Anywho I'm trying to do weekly updates so lets see how long that lasts.

Chapter 3: Visiting hours

Notes:

This chapter (and by extension, kind of this whole fic) Is inspired by the comic 'a reunion' by @ShadCatBloxz on twitter. It's kind of a funny story though cuz I saw the old version of the comic reposted on tiktok, and then I had to go SEARCHING for the artist when I started writing this chapter because I don't have twitter.

It’s been four weeks and two days since Medkit first arrived in Banland, and he’s starting to think that things are settling in. For one thing, the guards had gotten used to his presence, so he doesn’t get glared at anymore as he wanders through the dire walls of the prison.

One thing he’ll ever get used to, however, is the ominous gaze of hopeless prisoners, minding him with envy as he passes. A part of him wonders if he would’ve ended up just as grim if he was placed in here, or if Banhammer had never offered him that deal. The other part of him protests, there’s no point in thinking about what could’ve happened, because it didn’t happen.

He’s always hated how his mind manages to plague with only the things he doesn’t want to think about. He’s grown used to the paranoia, used to the dreading fear that seems to always trail behind his thoughts, but that doesn’t mean he no longer loses sleep over it.

Medkit treks his feet out of the staff quarters, making a beeline for his clinic. The less grumpy prisoners heckling him he has to deal with, the better. Actually, the less people he has to talk to in general, the better.

Part of him felt a bit bad for leaving Coil just… laying there, in the clinic, all the time. Nobody could visit him, and at this point he’s starting to doubt whether or not he can even actually help him.

One good thing, however, is that Coil’s case being so mysterious gives him a lot of paperwork, which gives him plenty of work to do to force his brain off of all the things he doesn’t want to think about. No more thinking about death row, or the church, or Blackrock, or Subspac-

“A prisoner needs medical attention.” Mumbles the guard who managed to open the door to the clinic and had probably been standing in the doorway for a while without Medkit noticing. SFOTH, Medkit needs to get more sleep. 

“Just cuff them to a bed and wait outside.” He replies, finishing off the sentence he was writing on Coil’s paperwork before turning his chair around and making eye contact with his new patient. One that nearly gave him a heart attack when he saw.

No. No….

“Yikes! What happened to that guy?” The Broker grinned, kicking his feet slightly as he gestured to Coil with his head.

So much for an easy, silent morning of paperwork.

Medkit’s eye was open wide, his fingertips clutching at his pen in disbelief. The church knew where he was now, or worse, maybe they never even thought he stayed on death row. He bit down on his tongue, his heart racing as he tried to convince himself this was a dream. Just another one of his sick nightmares.

Broker tilted his head at him, pouting mockingly before giving him an uncannily friendly smile. “Don’t look so shocked, Meds! Did you not think your family would come visit you in prison? I mean, we’ve missed you so much.” As he stared at Medkit, it wasn’t only his glass eye that looked dead.

A huff was the only reply Medkit mustered. He looked over at the massive cut that went up the Broker’s arm and summoned his gear, opening it and silently rummaging through. “What do you want? We both know you’re only here to talk to me. You’d be gone already if this wasn’t on purpose.” 

Broker gave a dramatic sigh.“I just had to come here and see it for myself. Working for Banhammer, the church’s biggest enemy was a bold move, Meds! I mean, who even thinks of that kind of betrayal!” Despite his words, he remains as blankly joyful as ever, glaring at Medkit to try and wind him up.

Medkit scoffed. He never liked Broker, he’d always found him both annoying and unsettling. A part of him wanted to snap, try and hurt him in whatever ways he could. But, that would just entertain him, so he had to work around it. “Skip the games, just tell me what you want from me.” He could only pray that worked, it was always an impossible feat to get Broker to just shut up.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be so bossy , I’ll skip the pleasantries.” Broker whined, feigning hurt as he held his arm out. Medkit used some of his healing crystals on the injury. “The boss isn’t very happy with you, Meds. And I think you already know her opinions on the concept of mercy. Gosh, you should’ve seen her face! I thought she was going to rip my head clean off, and I wasn’t even the one who betrayed us!”

Medkit bit his tongue even harder as his heart sped up in his chest. She was coming for him. He was expecting this, of course, but that didn’t make the news any easier on him. Scythe, the serial killer, cult leader and escape artist, wanted him dead. And he knew better than most what exactly she was capable of.

The Broker noticed this fear, glaring into Medkit’s soul like he could smell it radiating from him, and grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit, gripping the fabric so he could force Medkit to look at him face to face. “But… y'know… with how helpful you are to us… I’m sure she’ll understand if you turn back now! There’s a deal to be made, and I promise if you come with me, you’ll be safe.”

A shiver ran down Medkit’s spine, he hated how tempted he was by that offer. He shoved Broker off of him, making his wound bleed more, but he honestly couldn’t care less. Medkit stepped back, distancing himself from the Broker, who was still grinning ear to ear at him.

“C’mon now, Meds! Who took you in after you ran from Blackrock’s forces? Who guarded you from being tracked down by their mercenaries? It wasn’t the fucking police , they couldn’t have cared less and you knew it. It was us. The church.” Broker nearly giggled as he said it, his entire being made Medkit’s skin crawl.

“I paid my debt already. I did whatever you told me to for nearly eight years. We’re even” Medkit tried to reason, stepping back over to bandage up Broker’s arm as quickly as possible. He just wanted him gone. He wanted the church gone, his past gone. He wanted it all to be erased from his memory.

But when did he even get what he wanted? 

A dry chuckle escaped the Broker’s throat. “The father disagrees, and Scythe does too. You know how useful you are. You know why everyone keeps you around.” He whispered, poking just the right buttons. “This is your last chance, Meds. Make your decision very carefully.”

Something got stuck in Medkit’s throat. His face remained stoic, but the soft trembling in his eyes gave him away. Medkit bandaged Broker’s arm as quickly and roughly as he could, despite knowing he wouldn’t feel any pain. Once he finished the bandaging, he just froze, biting his tongue so hard that he could make it bleed.

The room’s silence was thick, Medkit couldn’t tell if he was hearing the metronome of the clock or the beating of his own heart. Broker saw his vulnerability and grinned at it, seemingly drinking in Medkit’s suffering as he poked curiously at Coil’s unconscious body.

Medkit pulled away from the Broker’s arm, glaring down at him with his blood threatening to boil over in his veins. “I’m not going back there. Never.” The words pushed their way past gritted teeth, as Medkit left the room before Broker got the satisfaction of a reply.

“He’s fine. Take him back to his cell.” Medkit yelled to  the guard outside, because he was already storming off to Banhammer’s office. He had to be safe here. He had to be sure he was safe here.

Medkit powerwalked through the halls, his minding failing to not picture Scythe following him with her weapon drawn. It didn’t matter how many times he looked behind him and saw nothing, the shiver that ran down his spine, that dread, seemed to drip from the ceiling above his head.

With his fists clenched, he pushed through the door and into the warden’s office, his brain unable to comprehend knocking with how fast it was racing. Banhammer, who wasn’t working, and was instead bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it, paused, and raised an eyebrow in confusion at how panicked and disheveled Medkit looked.

“We need to talk.”

Banhammer growled in annoyance, but gestured for Medkit to take a seat anyways. His office, surprisingly, wasn’t made out of white tile like most of the facilities, instead it was that dreary blackstone. Although, it was highly likely that Banhammer just adored that unattractive, mediaeval dungeon feel.

The chair Medkit sat in, across the desk from Banhammer, creaked as he sat down, but he wasn’t really in the headspace to care. The warden put his tennis ball down on the desk and rested his face on his hand, looking down at Medkit. “What?” He inquired, with the same amount of interest he’d give to a vegetable.

“The church of the true eye knows I’m here. They know I’m no longer on death row, and they’re coming to kill me. You took my revolver when I was incarcerated, I can’t protect myself.” Medkit explained, picking at his nails under the desk in a feeble attempt to hide his fear. “I need to know, am I safe here?”

“You’re in the largest prison complex in the entire Inpherno, with the most guards, best security and it’s ruled by a demigod. Are you doubting me?” Banhammer replied without skipping a beat, he didn’t give Medkit a chance to question his reply. “Scythe is strong, the church is strong, but they’re not stupid enough to wander into the belly of the beast on blind rage.”

Medkit sighed, maybe that was partially true, but it wasn’t reassuring enough to allow him to get back to work without starting to crack. “The Broker is here. He got himself arrested and then busted up his arm so he could see me. Am. I. safe . Here?”

Groaning in irritation, Banhammer sat back in his seat. “ Yes. You are an employee of Banland, and therefore a part of each and every guard here’s job will be to protect you if there is any emergency. I will technically need to protect you if there is an emergency. You’re fine . Scythe’s a good fighter, but she knows she can’t beat me.”

A wave of what could only be described as unimaginable relief washed over Medkit. That made sense. That was logical. That meant he could repeat it in his head at night, so he could maybe get a chance to sleep a little. There are probably thousands of guards here, even if they sent the whole church they’d be outnumbered.

“Relax. I would’ve kept you on death row if I wanted you dead. Don’t be so paranoid, I’m not going to send you anywhere where you’ll be by yourself. If I’m not there I can get a guard to go with you or somethin’. Such a hassle…” Banhammer absent-mindedly muttered, lifting the tennis ball back up as he began to throw it up into the air and catch it on its way down.

Medkit scoffed. “Oh, Apologies, if it’s such a hassle to keep me alive then you should’ve hired a doctor without a criminal record. Or, at least one that lacked a history in psychotic one-eyed cults.” He muttered, which made Banhammer genuinely chuckle.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about? ‘Cause I’d much rather answer all your dumb questions now than have you constantly coming in here and bothering me.” The demigod spoke with a sigh, catching the tennis ball one last time before turning to meet Medkit’s gaze again.

 

There was a pause left hanging in the air. There were many things Medkit wanted to talk about, too many, in fact. But what were the things that he would let himself ask? What answer would give him the most peace of mind? One question had been on his mind far more than any other.

“Why am I here? You told me that lie about the phights earlier, but even I know that can’t be your only reasoning.” He spoke, leaning forward in his chair suspiciously while looking up at Banhammer.

Banhammer smirked, showing off his sharp teeth as, for a moment, he turned his seat back to the right and went back to throwing the ball against the wall and catching it, the motion guiding his thoughts. Medkit didn’t know if his suffering amused him, or if smiling like his evil plan was just executed successfully was his reaction to anything and everything.

“Sword.” Banhammer eventually replied with a sigh, catching the ball in his large hands and pausing, looking back at Medkit with that signature grin. “Sword asked me to.”

“Sword?” Medkit parroted subconsciously. He didn’t know what he was expecting Banhammer’s answer to be, or what he wanted Banhammer’s answer to be, but the last thing he expected was for it to involve Sword. “And you… listened to him?”

The demigod shrugged, returning to playing catch with the wall. “I did, clearly.” He muttered, reaching up high to catch one that he had accidentally thrown too hard, the ball making a thud against his calloused hands.

The chair creaked as Medkit sat back against it, processing this information for a moment. His eyebrows were knitted together as his mouth hung slightly open, silently observing Banhammer as he threw the ball against the wall over and over again. “Why?” He eventually asked, looking into Banhammer’s four eyes, searching for any clue of dishonesty.

The ball, once again, thudded into Banhammer’s hands as he caught it, but he didn’t immediately throw it again, instead squeezing it in his palms as he stared at the floor. He was either racking his brain to think of a lie, or pondering whether or not to tell Medkit the truth. Either way, Medkit was practically on the edge of his seat for an answer.

“Lotta’ tension in my family currently. I didn’t think frying one of my cousin’s only friends with a million volts was gonna help that. Besides, killing you helps nobody, you’re pretty damn useful.” He grumbled reluctantly as his head turned to look Medkit in the eye with a slight scowl. “I didn’t do it because I care. Not about you.”

“I never thought you did.” The reply was blank, Medkit sighed as he crossed his arms across his chest, still leaning back against the chair, watching as Banhammer threw the ball again, Swish, thump, swish, thud, and landed back in his hand again.

“Are we done here?” Banhammer inquired, still more focused on playing catch than listening to what Medkit had to say. At least he had the decency to glance over at him once, while waiting for the ball to reach his hand again.

 That was all he needed to hear, but for some stupid reason, he didn’t want to leave. Because somehow, he felt safer in this office than he did in the rest of the building. Maybe it was because Broker was somewhere out those doors. Hopefully, it was not because Banhammer was in those doors . Still, unable to swallow his pride and ask to stay, Medkit’s reply came. “Yes, that’s all.”

The chair creaked again as Medkit stood up, walking back out the room. He turned around, seeing how Banhammer was watching him leave, and groaned. “And thank you. ” He muttered, rolling his eyes before opening the doors.

As he stepped out, the dread seemed to come again. Was it just paranoia? Yes. Did he know that? Yes. Did it change anything? No. He gave up on hoping this feeling would go away a long time ago.

For him, hope comes like the rain. In the few moments where he’s happy, where he doesn’t need it, hope is everywhere he looks. But when there’s a drought, and in the weather of the climates he's been living in, there's always droughts, when he really needs it, hope never seems to come. 

And as he walked through the prison, heading back to his clinic, he looked through one of the few windows in the entire complex. The view painted the volcano in almost warm and comforting oranges from the bubbling lava, until he realised it looked over the solitary confinement area.

Y’know that feeling when you turn all the lights off, and feel like you have to rush to your room to avoid the monsters your mind thinks will lurk in the dark? That kind of dread, that reasonless paranoia, was something Medkit was used to.

But, it was certainly amplified by the sight of the Broker’s cell being open, and empty.

And that feeling, that maybe, at any point, he was right behind Medkit with a blade in hand, that was enough to make him speed up his walking back to the clinic.

Because like a rabbit, hiding in its burrow from wolves, hunting dogs and the rain, Medkit felt safer with his back to the wall.

Notes:

Broker mentioned !!! Woahh!!!!

Chapter 4: For nothing.

Notes:

You lucky goose, this is getting posted a day early because I am busy as hell tomorrow and won't be able to post until super late in the evening.

It was a hard thing for Medkit to do most days, clear his head. He always had something to worry about, something to keep him busy. But, in a way, that helped him, as being so constantly productive never gave him the time to dwell on the true miserableness of his life.

He found, eventually, that taking walks never really helped. They tended to just feed his paranoia, especially when he was alone. What’s the point in walking without reason anyways? You’re just walking for nothing. And after that stunt that Broker pulled yesterday, now knowing that they were actively looking for opportunities to kill him, having a clear and level head seemed to become a progressively difficult task.

So when Banhammer called him into his office and proceeded to suggest that he visit his old apartment, alone , to find equipment that could maybe help cure Coil, he wasn’t exactly thrilled .

“And you aren’t coming because?” Medkit questioned. Usually that answer would be obvious, Banhammer just didn’t care. But when Banhammer has already shown some kind of… intrigue for Coil’s case, what was more important to him than going?

The warden shrugged. “I’m guessing you haven’t noticed that the Broker’s cell was empty, then? My top priority, currently, is getting that vile, squirmy, creepy-lookin’ bastard back behind bars.” Banhammer shuddered as he described the Broker, a sentiment Medkit honestly couldn’t help but relate to.

Medkit understood, but was still worried that if the soil under his feet wasn’t volcanic, then he’d be sniped from a building or mugged in the streets by some Church of the True Eye acolyte. “You can’t send me out there alone, I thought you weren’t trying to kill me?!” He spat, his eyebrows scrunching up his face,

“I’m not.” Banhammer banged his fist on the table so Medkit would actually listen to him instead of letting his brain run around like a headless chicken. “I’m not going with you, and I’m not sending guards to go with you,- we’re short staffed- but you are going with others, others that are competent to keep you alive. I already told you yesterday, did you forget or something? You’re better off alive.”

A pause enveloped the room. Who else could he be sending him with? What were the qualifications that someone had to have for Banhammer to consider them ‘competent’ enough to guard him against, quite possibly, Scythe herself.

 

“Who the fuck are you sending me with?!”

—----------------------------------------------

“Can you change the music? Flipside’s so basic.” Rocket complained, not wanting to take his hands off the steering wheel.

Sword gasped in offence, poking Rocket in the side.“Hey! Those are my cousins !”

It seems that, unfortunately, Banhammer’s standards for ‘competent’ weren’t very high. Technically, Sword’s mentor, and father, was a Deity, and Medkit’s seen Sword in battle, he’s quite skilled. And technically Rocket’s father was an ex-Blackrock super soldier/ living legend. But, out of everyone Banhammer could probably ask, there is not a chance they were the best options.

They were in Zuka’s, Rocket’s father’s, truck. Sure, much like its owner, it probably had its glory days, but it was certainly... dated, to say the least. Sword and Rocket squabbled in the front seats as Medkit sat behind them, sinking into the torn leather like it was a mattress, he was almost tempted to try and catch up on lost sleep.

It was unfortunate how Rocket ended up driving. Medkit’s not allowed to get a licence due to bad depth perception and field of view, courtesy of having one eye, and Sword can’t get one because his dad’s still trying to keep him sheltered, despite the fact that Sword is a whole 24 years old.

What a fun cast of characters for a road trip. And this car ride was going to be a road trip. All the way from Banlands to his apartment on the far side of Crossroads? That’s probably like two and half hours, minimum.

Despite Sword’s earlier protest, he switched the radio station to another one, which was also playing a flipside song, and then again, to another station, also playing a flipside song, and then again, to another station, playing what you could probably guess.

“Ughhhh…. I swear to SFOTH that flipside’s paying them or something. Maybe I should ask Valk next time I go to a phight…” Rocket trailed off, switching the radio off entirely as Sword chuckled at the idea of Rocket confronting flipside directly about his accusation.

The two of them exchanged a conversation ahead of him, but Medkit found himself succumbing to his previous idea of catching up on sleep. It wasn’t uncommon for Medkit to have nightmares, and paranoia alone could keep him up for a whole night, so getting to take a rest with some calm background noise was appreciated.

Idle chatter was never something Medkit excelled in doing himself, socialising in general was never one of his strong suits, but part of him loved listening to conversations. Not eavesdropping, just listening to it as background noise. The idea that he wasn’t alone, but he also wasn’t the centre of attention, or needed for anything, that, for some reason, was almost soothing to him.

Or maybe, this time, his enjoyment came from being in the company of two people that he knew, and for the most part, trusted. He wasn’t surrounded by criminals or opinionated Banland employees. He felt safe, maybe hopeful. Somehow, despite it being presumably more likely that the church would find him now than when he was in the prison. His head, for the most part, was clear.

—-----------------

Medkit was awoken by Rocket’s voice. “Home sweet home, huh Medkit?” He pushed his posture upright to see that they were pulling into the driveway of his old apartment complex, the building bringing a half-hearted wave of nostalgia. Sure he’d much rather be living here than his room in Banland, but the place wasn’t ever really that great.

“Yes…” Medkit mumbled, almost forgetting to reply as he subtly stretched his limbs in an attempt to get his blow flowing again before he stood up. Rocket parked the truck and all three of them climbed out.

It was at this moment he became far more grateful that he finally got to wear other clothes than one of those orange jumpsuits. Maybe it was just a blank green shirt and some sweatpants that belonged to one of the guards, but at least he wasn’t walking around looking like a convict.

He pushed open the doors, and muscle memory took him to the stairs which he used to walk up and down constantly every single day. There was an elevator, but had been out of service since before he had even first moved in, which was about 6 years ago. Sword and Rocket followed closely behind him, almost as if they’d been here before too….

“Surely you’ve missed this place at least a little!” Sword spoke up, slicing Medkit out of his thoughts. He had probably grown tired of the silence as he sped up so he could be walking beside Medkit instead of behind him.

He gave some thought to it. “I suppose I have. A little. Not because of any sort of sentimental attachment, just… merely because I miss living alone.” Medkit’s hand slid across the cool metal of the hand railings as they ascended the stairs.

With a sigh in response to that answer, Sword stepped back to converse with Rocket in hushed whispers. Medkit didn’t try to eavesdrop, knowing Sword, he was probably searching for a way to ‘cheer him up,’ and ended up dragging Rocket into being part of his plan. The sentiment was nice, he supposed, but unnecessary. He’s felt far more at peace with these two than he did at any other time in the past few weeks.

Even if he wasn’t fine, he could handle himself in all things besides combat. He wished Banhammer had let him take his revolver back, at least for the duration of this little mission. Even if not his revolver, he wished he got to have anything with him. He’d feel far less useless in case of an attack that way. 

They took everything he had when he got arrested, most of which he got back, except for his phone, which was destroyed so the church couldn’t figure out how to track him from it. Not that it mattered, they figured out he was there anyways.

He tried not to make it obvious he was panting once he made it up the last step, an action that seemed to be shared with Rocket, as he began to walk down the hall to find his apartment. Number 303.

That’s when a realisation hit him. As he stood in front of the door, he remembered that he didn’t have anything. Anything, included his keys. He turned on his heels, his face slightly flushed with embarrassment as he looked over Sword and Rocket.

“Ahem… uhm… any chance either of you know how to pick locks? Or… break down doors?” He questioned, slightly shrugging his shoulders. 

Sword turned to look at Rocket, and after a short period of them glaring at each other, Rocket sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out lockpicking equipment. “Yeah, okay, I got it.” He mumbled, crouching down in front of the door as Medkit suppressed his curiosity as to why Rocket carried around lockpicks.

Sword and Medkit stood back, waiting for Rocket to figure out the lock when a familiar voice addressed him from the stairwell.“Medkit? Where on earth have you been? You’re rent’s late.”

He turned his head to see his landlord, Shotgun, standing on the stairs and staring at him with a raised eyebrow. She observed the scene in front of her, noticing the friends Medkit had chosen to bring, and then realizing Rocket was trying to pick the locks, but oddly enough, didn’t really question it.

Medkit took a minute to give a reply, trying to think of the easiest way to explain his absence. “It’s quite a long story, one that doesn’t really matter if you hear or not.” He eventually replied, shrugging his shoulders once again “You can evict me, I have a new living situation anyways…”

That answer seemed to be good enough for her, nodding her head as she crossed her arms over the stair railing. “I just thought I should let you know, I think a raccoon got in there or something. A couple nights ago, I heard a bunch o’ ruckus from inside, but the door was still locked and I couldn’t hear any voices, so I decided not to bother. I mean, in the worst case scenario, I thought it would just be these two again.” Shotgun gestured to Sword and Rocket.

“Again?” Medkit questioned, turning to Sword, who seemed to be sweating a lot more now as he glanced between Medkit and Shotgun rapidly.

Shotgun chuckled, seemingly realising she had just outed Sword. “Well, you folks sort that out between yourselves. I got stuff to do…” She muttered, raising her hand in a wave before continuing her ascension on the stairs, heading to the next floor.

The eye contact shared between Sword and Medkit was almost deadly. Before Medkit could even question him any further, however, Sword cracked under his gaze. “Okay, so, maybe when you went missing, Rocket and I broke into your apartment to look for signs of a struggle. B-but we didn’t take anything! I just wanted to see if you were okay!”

“Oh, for SFOTH’s sake ..." He grumbled the reply, rubbing his temple. Sure, it was a nice gesture, and he wasn’t exactly mad, but he was really hoping Sword didn’t find any clues about his past while he was in there. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this, but don’t break into my home. You didn’t need to come looking for me, I could handle it myself.”

He wasn’t really annoyed, a part of him was touched. Sword actually cared enough to break the law for him. It was just easier for him to remind Sword not to commit crime than to express gratitude for what he did. That’s just the way Medkit was.

“For the record,” Rocket chimed, still trying to pick the lock. “I told him it was a bad idea.” The door then clicked, signaling it was unlocked, and Rocket gestured for the two of them to come closer. Medkit’s mind stored that conversation about privacy for another time.

Medkit’s hand met the cold metal of the door handle, he heard the way it jostled when his fingers gripped it. It was almost comforting, after all his recent struggles, it felt like he was finally coming home. Coming home to a place that, despite how likely unsafe it was for him now, he still associated with safety, warmth and hope.

The wooden door creaked against its hinges as he gently pushed it open, revealing the familiar brown, brick walls. As it continued to swing open, however, Medkit made a realisation, a realisation that they may be too late.

Paper scattered the floor, furniture was overturned, and the rooms with wallpaper had it torn and shredded. And directly opposite to the entrance, all the way down the hallway. There it was. A scribble note stabbed into the wall with one of his kitchen knives.

And just like that, that hope of safety, of some kind of… familiar comfort was washed away like a sand mural in the tide. His happiness seems to always be temporary, always conditional.

Medkit’s legs brought him forward before he could stop himself; he wasn’t even sure if Sword and Rocket were following. Like he was walking through a minefield, he tried to avoid the debris that had been left in the wake of the church. He didn’t know it was the church, but he knew it was the church. His footsteps felt like they pounded as he made his way to the other side of the hallway, just close enough to read the note.

Dearest Medkit,

 

How dare you. You could have made it better. I gave you another chance. Now, all you can do is count the days until I come visit. I’ll see you in a week or two, ‘Kit.

 

Yours sincerely,

SCYTHE. 

Before he knew it, Sword and Rocket were standing beside him, exchanging glances with each other before both turning to look at Medkit. Their expression was one that he’d seen on others before. He hated it. He hated those that viewed him with it.  Pity . Sympathy . He didn’t need their pity and he certainly didn’t want it. He wanted to survive this.

He bit his tongue, desperately clinging to convincing himself he was fine. He was fine and he was expecting this. Besides, he’s here currently to find clues on how to help Coil recover. This doesn’t matter . This means nothing . Nothing he didn’t already know. He had no right to be afraid.

“Med, are you-?” Sword tried, raising a hand to put it on his shoulder, but Medkit just swatted it away. Without a word, he ripped the note off the wall, crumpling it in his hand and hiding it away in his pocket.

“Help me search, surely there are some things left behind. Anything that could possibly help Coil, gather it onto that table.” He muttered the command, desperately trying to regain control of this situation as he stormed across the house, dragging his feet into his bedroom.

Just like the rest of the apartment, it was completely trashed. His sparse amount of decoration was shattered or missing, his blankets and mattress were ripped off his bedframe, and shattered glass littered the floor from the lightbulb in his lamp.

Whatever. He doesn’t care. This place doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need it. He never needed it. His safety is all that matters to him. This doesn’t matter. This means nothing.

Or, at least that’s what he told himself as he opened his mostly-raided closet, falling to his knees so he could search the bottom of it for loose medical equipment. He was not upset and he was not biting his tongue to avoid cracking his uncaring mask. He shouldn’t be upset. This means nothing.

“Med…” He heard Sword’s voice behind him, which partially snapped him out of it. If he was going to cry, which he wasn’t , it was definitely not going to be in front of Sword. “I-I know you’re not the type to want to talk about your feelings, but… maybe I could distract you, at least? Ask me anything, I’ll answer it!”

The reply he was met with, rather, was hoarse grumbles from Medkit’s throat as he pinched his nosebridge and sighed . Because he did not need to take a deep breath to calm himself, because his heart was not pounding in his chest, because he was not bothered by Scythe’s threat. He knew this would happen from the second he left, so he knew he should not be bothered by it.

“Why…” He eventually replied, reluctant to hear the response that came with his question. “Why did you ask Banhammer to take me off of death row? Why did you think he would listen?” His tone, usually so flat, clear and distant, was suddenly mumbled and gentle.

Sword went quiet again, biting his lip in thought as Medkit silently shifted through the various amounts of rubble that lay across the floor of his apartment, searching for anything, anything that was in one piece, anything useful. Just, anything.

They seemed to have robbed him of most of his possessions. But laying amongst the rubble in his closest was some of his clothing. Either too old and tattered or too insignificant for them to bother to take. He picked up whatever he could and folded it up neatly, as if it mattered, to take it back to Banland with him. 

Maybe, just having some of his old clothes around, not even wearing them, would help him sleep, help him convince his weary mind to let its guard down so he could actually get some sleep in. Maybe, having his clothes around would help him feel like a person.

“I didn’t think he’d listen.” The reply finally came from Sword's lips as he walked forward, crouching down next to Medkit. “I was actually going to try to convince Rocket and Zuka to help me break you out.” His voice was hushed as Sword’s hands began also searching the floor of the closet.

Medkit turned his head to meet Sword’s gaze, he had a soft smile, the kind of smile you give to your mother after she makes you a warm plate of food. Not the pity-filled kind you give to someone who just lost most of their personal possessions.

Sword then stood up, placed his hands on his hips while looking down at Medkit. “I just figured, I might as well ask first, because even if I was very sure he’d say no, I knew that, sometimes, I’m wrong.”

That made Medkit huff. Was he trying to teach him a life lesson? Now ? “There’s nothing here… let’s check if Rocket found anything and then, we’re leaving.” He deflected the conversation, not wanting to hear it anymore. He just wants to get out of here at this point, even if he brings back nothing.

Shards of glass, plastic and wood crunched under Sword’s and Medkit’s shoes as they made their way into the living room, where Rocket had found and stacked a pile of books about medicine.

Few words were exchanged as they lifted the books and carried them back downstairs, Medkit still carrying the clothes he found earlier, and also packed them into the car.

As Rocket turned the keys, and the ignition began to growl to life, Medkit rested his head against the window. For a time where he was so somber, it was such a sunny day.

Medkit’s always been the type to know what he wanted, exactly , what he wanted. And yet time and time again, he settles for just anything, because fate never seems to give him a choice. He doesn’t give up. He survives. But every time, through some miraculous, shock and awe situation that sniffs him out, he loses something.

He’s sick of losing. Of becoming dependent on others for his safety. He’s sick of living. Living, only on the terms of someone else’s game. But he knows better than anyone that there’s no escaping it. That’s just the way this world, anything and everything, works.

Notes:

It said the thing!!! It said the thing!!!

Golly, Medkit is so awesome and normal and totally not traumatized. He's probably gonna be fine when ripped away from his sense of normalcy!!!

On a real note, writing a longfic with no beta reader is not for the weak omgosh.

Chapter 5: Introverted hell

Notes:

Feeding yall scraps with this one

There’s always chatter in the staff quarters at Banland. Always some new gossip, blazing through the halls of the entire prison.

Medkit isn’t the type to participate in such things. He isn’t really the type to participate in socialising anyways, especially with strangers. It just feels like the same words get repeated over and over and over, dwelling on unimportant topics rather than getting to the point. It gives him quite the headache.

Instead of joining in the growth of likely false information, Medkit sat lonesomely as he ate his lunch, mindlessly flicking through some of the medical textbooks Rocket had found at his old apartment.

He’s been trying not to give the state his apartment was in much thought. His apartment was an easy target, considering he didn’t live there anymore. They’d never do that here, where there’s constantly guards swarming around and the looming threat of Banhammer using them as chew toys as a possibility.

The smooth pages of the book are turned slowly as he absorbs the information. It’s nothing he didn’t already know, he was only really reading it to feel like he’s not useless in helping Coil recover.

Coil’s condition had only been getting worse and worse, when Medkit entered his clinic earlier that morning, he was struggling to breathe. He theorises that the chunk of crystal Coil had haphazardly put in his horn was actually helping him. The healing from the crystal was keeping his body stable, it’s the only reason the cyanide hasn’t completely killed him yet. But he’s doubting how much longer it can keep sustaining him like this.

If you asked him, Medkit couldn’t tell you why he cared so much if Coil lived or died, they hardly knew each other. Maybe it was because he was young, maybe it was because he seemed like a decent guy, or maybe he just really wanted to do his job well. He wasn’t sure what the procedure was if Coil didn’t make it, though, and he really didn’t want to find out.

Medkit took another bite of his food, today’s meal was hamburgers, which he was eating with a knife and fork purely because he could. The meals, or at least the staff meals, in Banland weren’t actually that bad. None of them were particularly noteworthy in the slightest, but they were edible and tasted decent.

He kept his head down, chewing his food while reading his book with his face resting against his hand. He didn’t look up when he heard the clanking of armor get closer and closer to his table and eventually sit down in front of him, the massive figure casting a shadow over the table.

“Are you really eatin’ that with cutlery?” The warden questioned, resting his elbows on the table and leaning over to try to get a peak at what Medkit was reading.

Medkit still didn’t bother raising his head. “Yes, I am. Did you need something?” Out of what was probably spite, Medkit used his knife and fork to meticulously slice another piece of burger, before collecting it on his fork and placing it slowly into his mouth.

Banhammer raised an eyebrow, and perhaps even shuddered uncomfortably at the action, which Medkit found mildly amusing. “Can’t two co-workers just have a nice chat, Doc? Since when do I need a reason to talk to anyone?”


Sighing, Medkit finally raised his head, meeting Banhammer’s gaze as he chewed and swallowed the food in his mouth. “Unless you’re here to mock me, then you must want something from me. One of the few things we can both agree on is that small talk is perpetually boring.”

The demigod rolled his four eyes, but didn’t disagree. “I wanted to know if you found anything on your little road trip yesterday. You were supposed to come update me once you came back, but I figure you just forgot to swing by.” Banhammer extended his arm, grabbing a hold on the book Medkit was reading and slowly dragging it across the table so he could see what it was.

The conversation fizzled into silence, as Medkit wasn’t actually sure if he wanted to tell Banhammer the state that he found his apartment in. He took a bite of his food and chewed it slowly to drag out the silence as his mind raced to think of an answer.

Sure, telling the warden might get him some upgraded security, but it also might convince him that Medkit’s too much of a hassle to keep around, and he’ll be put back on death row. It also might result in him being used as bait to try and draw the church out, and it also might result in him no longer being able to leave Banlands, meaning no more phights, meaning no more seeing Sword.

He was still weighing his options in his head when Banhammer clicked his fingers impatiently, interrupting his thoughts. “Hello? Inpherno to Medkit? Did you find anything or not?!” He grumbled, the fingers on his other hand tapping rhythmically on the book now in front of him.

“N-no, not really. Most of the medical equipment I used was owned by the church anyway, so it was all kept in their base in Lost Temple. However, we did find these books on medicine. I've been reading them to see if there’s any alternative possibilities that I missed.” He explained, reaching back over the table and taking the book back.

It’s not like he was lying. Everything he said there was true. He was just… withholding personal information. Medkit can’t expect Banhammer to smooth things over with the church for him anyways, so what would be the point in telling him? He doubted Banhammer would care anyways.

To Medkit’s explanation, the warden nodded approvingly, before slowly inching his hand back across the table to try and take the book from Medkit again. He was possibly just doing this to annoy him, in which case, it was working. “What do the books say, then? Is Coil as good as dead?”

With a humorless expression, Medkit watched Banhammer drag the book back over to his side of the table. He sighed, “the crystal in his horn, the one he stole from me, it’s keeping him stable, but probably not for much longer.” He watched Banhammer skim over the cover of the book before hastily snatching it back.

“Have you at least figured out why the treatment isn’t helping him?” Banhammer continued to question. He used his demigod strength to his advantage, reaching over and practically ripping the book out of Medkit’s hands. A grin spread across his features as he felt the book in his hand, not even pretending to read it anymore.

Medkit rolled his eye. “No… I need to figure out what exactly was used to poison him, but none of his friends have any idea and it's not like I can just wake him up and ask him. I mean, it could be…” He trailed off, rubbing his temple as he mused over all the ideas he had considered previously, searching for another explanation.

Banhammer put the book down, focusing on Medkit as if watching him would aid him in coming to an epiphany. Medkit noticed, and used the opportunity to swipe the book back, and packed it away into his bag before Banhammer could try to take it back again, scoffing and giving him a slight smirk. Medkit may think that he’s better than Banhammer’s antics, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to win them.

Ignoring the mildly disbelieving expression on Banhammer’s face, Medkit continued his thoughts. “I’m not really an expert on toxins, but from what I can tell, It’s most likely that he ingested it, so at least we know it wasn’t any kind of gas…”

Banhammer raised an eyebrow. “He what?”

 

“I think it’s most probable he ingested it.”

“... he what ?”

“He ate it, Banhammer.” Medkit pinched at his temples, squinting his eyes at the warden in shock that he didn’t know that. It wasn’t even a remotely complex term! Maybe he’s been overestimating his intelligence. “I’ll do more research and keep trying, but I’ve tried almost every treatment I can think of…”

“Good. Lemme know if you figure it out.” Banhammer nodded, adjusting himself to stand up, before stopping half way and sitting back down again. “Actually, there was somethin’ else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

With a burger-covered fork inches away from his mouth, Medkit raised an eyebrow. “Well? Go on.” He beckoned, still resting his face against his hand as he carefully placed his fork into his mouth.

“You’ve probably heard about the annual employee party coming up next week, on Sunday." Medkit hadn’t, but didn’t bother to correct him, besides, that would likely only confirm Banhammer’s impression of him as an antisocial freak. “Lantern’s hostin’ this year, ‘cause her place is all fancy, got a bar and everything. Which means that most, excluding the guards on duty, will be off-site, including me. So, if the church already knows that you’re here…”

“...That’s when they would try to get in and kill me, when you’re gone.” Medkit sighed, finishing Banhammer’s sentence after swallowing his food. He paused for a brief moment, running a hand through his neatly tied-up hair as he thought about what his approach towards this should be.

His first instinct was to ask Banhammer to cancel the party, but knowing his personality, he doubted he would agree to that. The fact that he even let there be a party only proves that further. An employee party for a prison is a horrible idea, but Banhammer probably doesn’t care. No, he definitely doesn’t care, Medkit’s sure of it.

Medkit did not enjoy parties, and it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. He hates socialising, he hates being vulnerable, he hates being around strangers. With a groan of annoyance, Medkit rubbed his temple and spoke. “Do you think I’ll be safer here, or at the party? And please, be honest.”

“Uhm…” Banhammer mused, sitting back in his chair, biting down gently on his own lip as he thought. “I dunno. I’d say go to the party. They won’t know where you are, you’ll be surrounded by police officers, and me AND you can get hammered on alcohol.” The warden grins as he says that last part, clearly being the most exciting idea for him.

“I’m going to die if they find me, Banhammer. Please, for once, be serious about this.” Medkit spoke it with the same empty and stoic tone he’s known for always using. But maybe, through the slight twitch in his eye, the subtle furrow of his eyebrows, maybe some of his fear shined past his facade.

Whether or not Banhammer noticed, Medkit didn’t know, but judging by the fact he couldn’t piece together what ‘ingested’ meant, he doubted the demigod was able to comprehend any of his subtleties.

“I am being serious.” Banhammer assured, tilting his head slightly as he leaned over the table. “Spend the night glued to my side if you want, I don’t really care, but I do think you should be there.” He suggested, grumbling slightly as he implied Medkit should follow him around like a lost puppy.

Medkit ran another hand through his hair as he thought. Leaving the lava-surrounded prison fortress to go to a party while being actively tracked down by a murderous cult didn’t sound like a smart idea. But honestly, considering the church already knew the ins and outs of Banland, and probably didn’t have a map of Lantern’s house, as well as the fact that Banhammer himself, and a large number of guards, would also be there, he convinced himself it would be better.

“Yes, alright, I’ll go to the damn party. Am I supposed to get a ride?” Medkit eventually grumbled, rubbing his eye in tired frustration as Banhammer seemed to gain a gentle smile, in contrast to his usual mocking, toothy grin.

The demigod got up from his seat, his armour clanking as his hulking figure struggled out of the tiny seat. “You can ride with me. Just wait outside my quarters around 7PM, I should be ready around then.” 

That idea gained an eyebrow raise from Medkit, as well as another scoff. “What is this, a date?” He sarcastically huffed, glaring up at Banhammer while scooping up the rest of his burger onto his fork and putting it into his mouth, chewing slowly as the warden walked over to stand behind him and loom over his shoulder.

Banhammer rolled his eyes and huffed air at Medkit’s face, causing his loose strands of hair to go flying into his face before cackling at his irritated reaction. “Don’t worry about it, Doc, Just keep ingesting that hamburger like a nutcase.” He attempted to change his tone to mock Medkit’s posh and proper accent while saying ‘ingesting,’ but he ended up just making his voice really high-pitched.

Medkit nearly spat out his food, trying not to chuckle as Banhammer began walking away. He quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, mid-chew, before calling out to the leaving demigod. “I do not sound like that!” He scolded, pointing his fork at him as Banhammer continued to stride away.

The only reply Medkit received was a brief glance over from Banhammer, revealing his prideful expression. The chatter of the various other employees rang throughout the room as Medkit watched Banhammer leave the room. As much as it pains him to admit it, that interaction was… amusing , at the very least. He lifts up his serviette and wipes his mouth clean, unable to deny the fact that his expression was certainly not a scowl, for once.

He certainly wasn’t looking forward to the party, but he was looking forward to having a drink. After the experiences he’s had in the previous few weeks, he really, really needs one.

One night, where he could forget everything? Let himself drink every word in his head that’s related to the church away? He couldn’t deny how badly he wanted that, how badly he wanted to forget.

But, just like in the church, he doubted he was going to drink much. Each time he attended one of their social gatherings, he was too on edge to allow himself to even approach anything mildly alcoholic. He knew few people, and the people he did know, he didn’t trust. Hence, why he only really drank alone, or with Sword.

Medkit’s always despised that burning he gets in his gut when he feels helpless. When he loses what little control he has. It feels like he’s playing poker while sitting in front of a mirror. There’s no point in playing, he’ll always lose. And while being drunk helps him forget the things he’s always wanted to forget, being drunk in the wrong crowd makes him feel like he’s willingly giving up the steering wheel.

But forgetting all those words, forgetting Blackrock, the church, even for just a second, is so relieving. Drinking himself to sleep results in no nightmares, no tossing and turning while his mind replays all the things that he’s seen and done, and suggests cruel, sickening things that he might have to do. His brain is at peace.

Reaching back down into his bag, Medkit pulls out the book he was reading before, gently flipping through the pages with soft fingers, searching in silence for the page he was reading before Banhammer decided to reasonlessly tease him. At least when he’s reading, Medkit’s brain is too absorbed in comprehending new words to linger on ones that have been told to it previously.

Even if, Medkit admits, the book really isn’t even remotely interesting at all.

Notes:

UHhh I might delay the next chapter by another week so I can lock in for the phestival. Or maybe not. You'll see.

Also I can't freaking pick a team. I want to be team comedy so I can be yellow and beam of joy and hope and beat up the angsty edgelords (Also cuz I love comedies), but I also want to be team tragedy because, deep down, I AM an angst-loving edgelord. (Also cause I want Dom to win so I can get revenge for losing the last one cuz I wanted to be a pretty prink mermaid princess.)

Grrrr.... decisions, decisions...

(ALSO SRRY FOR THE EDIT, I REALISED I COPY PASTED IT FROM DOCS WRONG. WOOPS.)

Chapter 6: Find a way out, avoid it, whatever.

Notes:

YES, this is early because I'm busy again tomorrow and I'll probably be really freaking tired.

While Medkit worked for the church, he gained quite the bad habit of staying up until abysmal hours. He’d be sent back to his apartment with piles and piles of arbitrary paperwork, the significant majority of which resulted in him forging signatures. Hence, his fraud charge.

Nights spent locked down to a desk, his head thrown down as if his horns were chained to the wall as his hand was puppeteered by some higher force. Read. Figure out whose signature it needs to be. Sign. Repeat.

He didn’t like it, of course he didn’t. But some nights it was better to have his eyes open and watching paint dry, engaged in something, than closed and letting his sadistically bored mind wander to darker memories.

However, Medkit slowly discovered that it had more of an effect on his sleeping schedule than he originally thought. As a nine-o-clock curfew seemed far too early for him, often just staring up at the ceiling until later hours.

In which case, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a slight, small, miniscule chance that he’d prefer to be at this… party… than back in his room in Banland.

He wasn’t even there yet, and he already was doubting that notion.

“And y’know, if I had it my way, I’d be flyin’ everywhere, never takin’ no mortal-made vehicle. But then everyone started gettin’ made at me! They were all like ‘Banhammer, you can’t land within 8 metres of a building, you’ll make it collapse!’ But who are they to be givin’ me orders, if you know what I mean?” Banhammer rambled from the driver's seat.

Medkit, sitting next to him, only sighed and continued blankly staring out the window, looking at the open, late-night road as he was tempted to jump out into it to avoid this situation. “Uh-huh.”

Banhammer glanced at Medkit, before smacking his lips in annoyance. “You’re not even tryin’ to pretend that you’re listening…” He grumbled, his calloused hands smacking against the steering wheel as he made a turn.

“Mhm.” Was the reply Medkit mustered, picking at his fingernails. SFOTH , he wished he had a phone. There’s not much in the world that brought him more joy than playing solitaire on his phone when he found some brief spare time. He glanced back at the view outside the window, blinking at the occasional cluster of trees he’d see as they sped past.

He’d been working at Banland for a decent amount of time now, he had enough money to buy himself a new phone, he just never had an opportunity to buy one. Almost like he’s being tracked by a murderous cult and can’t go anywhere without being in immense danger.

Speaking of said ‘ murderous cult,’ he’s recently rediscovered how full of shit they are. That note in his apartment? A week or two ? It had been a whole month, almost four weeks. They were just trying to frighten him, and Medkit was a little proud of himself for not completely falling for it this time. He won against his paranoia.

Medkit turned his head to observe Banhammer, who managed to squeeze himself into a suit just for this occasion. His dread-locked hair was tied back almost neatly in a ponytail and he had his usual blindfold tucked into his pocket like a handkerchief. It seemed that this event was going to be, presumably, more sophisticated than Banhammer made it sound.

His eye travelled back to look at his own attire, nobody had any spare suits laying around, especially not in his size, and nobody was nice enough to bother renting one for him. So, Medkit was in his typical jumpsuit, meaning he was going to stick out like a sore thumb for the entire event. Lucky for him, as that was exactly the opposite of how he wanted this event to go.

Glancing up again, glaring into the rearview mirror, he saw the eyepatch he sewed for himself. He’d cut up one of the shirts he took from his apartment, an old green one with holes and stains on it, and made himself an eyepatch. Sure, his stitching was a little uneven, but it meant he didn’t have to avoid reflective surfaces anymore.

He also took the liberty of using that same green shirt to customize his prison uniform. He wasn’t technically a prisoner, so they couldn’t really stop him. On the front pocket of the jumpsuit, there was a medical cross symbol, and there were little diamond patterns down the sides of the pant legs.

Sure, it looked tacky, home-made, and whatever other insults you could give to a mildly tattered item of clothing. But it gave him some sense of identity, so he wore it around.

Dirty orange and dusty green were a colour combination that made him look like a carrot.

The car ride was filled with an immeasurable silence, although, almost comforting in a way, between the two passengers. Medkit was honestly expecting to be pestered and mocked by Banhammer the entire ride, but he’s been awfully silent, and strangely focused on the road ahead.

Then Medkit watched the window again, and they passed the same cluster of trees that he swears he saw just a few moments ago. He pauses, turning back to Banhammer once more. “Are we lost ?” He interrogates, his hands clenching in irritation at the fact that he already knows the answer.

Banhammer’s reply came as a fit of roaring laughter. “BAHAHAHA!!! Me?! Lost?! Who do you think I am, doc? Of course I know where we’re going, I’ve been here once or twice before!” He bellowed, grinning as he turned back onto a street that they were on about 10 minutes ago.

Medkit groaned as he quickly had to pick his poison. Would he rather spend four hours surrounded by drunk Banland employees, or, spend possibly even more time driving in circles with a hopelessly lost demigod who refuses to admit he doesn’t know where he’s going?

He sat back in the seat, and silently prayed to Banhammer’s relatives to not show him where to go.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Give me your phone, I’ll search for directions.” Medkit eventually commanded. He didn’t know how long it had been since they got lost, but every twist and turn seemed to lead in the same direction, and going in circles for what he assumed was an hour was starting to make him nauseous. He only wondered why Banhammer didn’t try searching for directions earlier, he just assumed he couldn’t swallow his pride.

A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the hum of the car’s engine and the tires scratching against the road. “I don’t have it.” Banhammer muttered, keeping his attention on the road, probably trying to save himself the embarrassment of witnessing Medkit’s reaction.

Medkit froze, his fists clenching as those four simple words gave him a pounding headache. Banhammer didn’t have his phone. They were completely lost, with no sense of direction, late at night.

Somehow, they’d managed to find their way from mostly open roads to a forest on the outskirts of Thieves' Den, where every turn led you in what seemed to be the exact same direction, which was back where you came from.

Sitting back in his seat, Medkit glared at Banhammer in disbelief. The demigod seemed to look somehow only mildly annoyed at the fact they were lost, Medkit wasn’t sure if his utter indifference was infuriating, or somewhat comforting.

“ Please tell me you can at least get us back to Banland. The party is probably almost over by now anyways.” Medkit pleaded, still glaring at Banhammer like he owed him money. “I can’t exactly spend the entire night out here. If Coil’s condition gets any worse I’m going to need to constantly monitor him.”

Banhammer glanced over at him, the two inphernals making eye contact for what might be the first time this entire car ride. “Pssh… I’ll probably find a way. Don’t worry about it.” Banhammer grumbled in reply.

Medkit wished he couldn’t worry about it. Unfortunately, his brain works in cruel ways, and wanders immediately to the idea of Scythe finding them while they’re lost, and shooting a bullet through the window of the car to blow Medkit’s brains out. Even though that makes no sense, there is no reasonable chance that could happen, he sinks into his seat, trying to avoid his head being centered in the view of the window.

Before he could let his mind diverge further into his paranoia, Banhammer flicks on the radio. Medkit jumps at the sound he hears. It sounds like someone is running their fingernails on a chalkboard, and screaming their head off as it happens.

He turns to Banhammer slowly, who’s bopping his head gently to the beat of the ‘music’ and Medkit wonders to himself why there is a radio station that plays heavy metal at nearly midnight.

Medkit doesn’t even say anything, he just continues to glare at him as he shuts it off. Banhammer makes eye contact with him again, the demigod’s expression something between offended, irritated and pouty. “C’mon, doc, clearly we’re gonna be here awhile, why are you so against havin’ music to fill the silence?!”

“I have nothing against music filling the silence. Unfortunately, that noise was anything BUT music.” Medkit snaps back, adjusting himself in his seat again as he straightens his posture.

Banhammer merely rolls his eyes, moving to turn the music back on before Medkit swats his hand away. Medkit was expecting a reprimand, offended glare, or at least a mocking insult for that action, but Banhammer just grumbles under his breath and keeps his focus on driving.

The silence doesn’t last long, however, because Banhammer speaks up again, seemingly disturbed by the quiet of the night. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this… not showin’ up to my own prison’s employee party because I got lost driving you around, of all people.”

For a brief period, Medkit was very tempted to not respond. Unfortunately, he’s come to the realisation that he loves the quiet, but that he can’t stand silence. Two very different things, at least for him. “I was planning on not asking, figuring ignorance is bliss, but how were you planning to get me back after the party?”

The demigod scoffed, making a turn to go down a road that Medkit’s half-sure they haven’t gone down before. “Mortal alcohol isn’t strong enough to get me drunk. Even if I drank triple the amount the others did, I’d still be sober enough to drive.” 

“What? Then why were did you sound so excited to come here and, quote, as you said, ‘get hammered?’” Medkit quickly questions, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at his face.

“‘Cause I wanted you to go. I was curious to see if the stoic, criminal doctor had a fun, party side. Besides, even if I did get drunk, who’s gonna stop me from drivin’? The police? I am the police.” Banhammer boasted his reply, lips twitching up into a smirk as he took a hand off the wheel to scratch at his stubble-covered chin.

SFOTH above, his hypocrisy was so bold it was almost palpable anywhere within 4 metres of him. Medkit rolled his eyes and scoffed, in both annoyance, and amusement. “You are horrid .” He’d shake his head as he let out a dry laugh. It wasn’t even that funny, maybe he was just tired.

There wasn’t any reply to that statement besides a half-assed shrug of Banhammer’s shoulders. Strangely, it wasn’t long until Banhammer switched the conversation, turning it directly on its heels. “So, how’d you end up workin’ in that creepy cult anyways? I mean, clearly, you’re no religious acolyte.”

Another pause of quiet filled the air, which quickly fizzled into utter silence as Medkit processed the question he was just asked. “Excuse you.” Was the eventual answer he gave in reply, his expression turning into a stone mask again as he turned back to staring out the window.

Banhammer scoffed. “Oh, c’mon now. Indulge me, won’t you, Doc? Can’t a guy be curious?” 

The view outside the window that Medkit was so fixated on only repeated itself over and over. Trees, and then more trees, and then more trees. For all he knew, they were going to be here for a long time more. Besides, something inside himself made him feel like he could trust Banhammer… or, at least, vaguely trust him.

“I was running from Blackrock. They sent mercenaries, and eventually Biografts, after me when I escaped, and heaven knows that I couldn’t evade them on my own. The church just happened to be the first group to offer me sanctuary.” He left out all the details, the details that Banhammer had no reason to know, that would give Banhammer too much leverage over him.

Medkit knew he kind of had to trust Banhammer, firstly, because Medkit’s very life was in his hands, but secondly, because Banhammer was a very, very powerful ally. One that he knows he’s going to need to keep if he wants to continue to survive this situation.

The demigod opened his mouth hesitantly, as if about to give a reply, before biting on his tongue and bringing his attention back on the road, noticing how Medkit was staring him down, waiting for his response. “Huh. Makes sense.” Banhammer eventually murmured, giving no emotion in his response. 

Medkit felt an urge to raise questions about this, before deciding that he didn’t really care what Banhammer thought. He had no reason to care about what he thought. So, he turned his head back to the window.

A peaceful amount of silence filled the air between them. Saying that it didn’t feel awkward would be a lie, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. The atmosphere of the car, and by proxy, their relationship, was just as lost as they were.

Banhammer made another turn, unable to hold back his sigh of relief when he recognised it as the road that first led them into the forest. Medkit didn’t change his expression at all, but he suddenly felt like the metaphorical chains keeping him confined in this car were snapped in two, even if they still had to drive another half an hour to get back to Banland.

“Fuckin’ finally…” Banhammer mumbled, a smug grin on his face as if he wasn’t the one who got them lost in the first place. “I was nearly considering prayin’ to my momma for help…”


Usually, that kind of grin on Banhammer makes Medkit want to spring from where he stands and strangle him with whatever forces he has available. Maybe it was simply because he was tired and glad he didn’t have to attend that party, but this time, he merely scoffed in amusement.

The demigod seemed to take notice of this, as he glanced over at Medkit, mentally retracing their steps so they could get back to Banland before they both lost their minds. “I feel the need to celebrate. I’m turnin’ the music back on.” Banhammer announced, reaching back for the radio.

“ Please don’t.” Medkit tried to beg, but the sound was already absorbing the peaceful atmosphere of the car before he could even finish his sentence. He just groaned and rubbed at his temples in headache-inducing frustration.

Medkit managed to push his luck once already by getting him to shut off his music, and he silently doubted he would be able to get Banhammer to agree again. Especially not now that he was actually in a decent mood.

Still, with the swallowing darkness surrounding their vehicle as they drove, Medkit somehow didn’t find himself particularly paranoid. A feat for him, he supposes. Maybe the music was so loud it was drowning out his entire ability to think, maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t alone. But somehow, even with the deafening, shattering noises coming from the speakers in the car, Medkit felt strangely at peace.

—-------

“G’night, doc.” Banhammer sighed, unlocking his room since it was long past his 9PM curfew lock-out. It was so odd, being in the hallways of the staff quarters and having it be so… silent. Usually, there's always at least a small array of nightguards sitting at a table and enjoying their break.

Medkit stepped inside his room, sitting down on his bed as he began pulling off his shoes. He honestly expected Banhammer to slam the door behind him the second he was inside, but instead he just continued to stand in the doorway, staring at him.

It took a while for Medkit to even notice him standing there as if expecting something. He was about to snark about it until he realised that he was probably expecting Medkit to return his ‘goodnight.’ Odd, since Banhammer was certainly not the kind of person to give a damn about formalities.

He only managed to lock eyes with Banhammer, his lips parting slightly to speak, before Banhammer seemingly gave up on waiting. Banhammer’s gaze faltered slightly to the side in an expression Medkit couldn’t really name before he closed the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway as he walked away.

Strange, but Banhammer has never really been an even remotely ‘normal’ person. Thank his heritage, as the son of Windforce, for that. So Medkit promptly ignored his unusual retreat.

Well, he ignored it until he realised he never heard the lock click.

The idea of escape only briefly flicked in his head. After all, Banhammer was probably just down the hall, and even though most were at the party, he saw on the way that there were still plenty of guards. And even if he did make it out, he had no plan. It would just be a race to see whether Banland or the church got to him first.

But, with the growing, dreadful silence that filled the halls. He needed something to distract himself. Maybe he’d just go check on Coil? Surely there’d be no resistance to that!

Although he was technically already a criminal, he felt like he was becoming one as he creaked the door of his room open. His head spinning both ways before he stepped out into the hallway, hiding his hands in his pockets. It really was quiet.

Medkit might as well have been on his tippy toes. He was as quiet as a mouse, keeping his lips completely zipped as he used his keycard against the staff quarters door, slipping into the main complex of the prison.

There were guards, of course. But either they didn’t know he wasn’t meant to be out here, or simply didn’t care enough to question him as he scurried past like a lost rabbit. He kept looking over his shoulder, the breaking of his routine clearly not helping with his paranoia.

To avoid pushing past more guards, he decided to hide in the solitary confinement area, where all the guards were posted at the entrance and exit. Seeing how all the prisoners are in birdcages, hanging over their heads in a way that was almost too off-putting to be walking below, he figured it’d be mildly more peaceful.

However, as the soles of his shoes crackled against the gravelly, volcanic ground. A voice called down to him from above. “Heya, Doc! Good to see you coming to visit your good ol' pal, Broker!” He chuckled, swinging his feet with his legs threaded through the bars of the cage.

Medkit froze, turning to look up at him. He could’ve sworn the volcano was erupting, because his legs suddenly felt shaky beneath him. He was right in the middle of the confinement area too, too far for any guard to hear and step in, not that Medkit thought they would help him anyway.

“I was gonna pay you another visit in the morning, but this is so much more convenient!” The broker smiled, Medkit decided to ignore him, trying to continue his walk to the clinic. “The boss ran out of patience, Meds~...”

Medkit’s feet refused to move from beneath as he stopped in his tracks, head turning back despite his mind’s own protests to the action. Suddenly, the heat from the bubbling lava below became more obvious. He felt dizzy, felt sick.

Broker leaned his forehead against the bars of his cage, his smirk widening. “Last time I was here she told me not to kill you, just because she wants the satisfaction of doing it herself. A bummer, you’d be so fun to chase! You’ve always been a sheep in wolf's clothing.”

“Shut up!” He exclaimed, heart aching and pounding in his chest as he tried, and failed, to calm himself. His mouth became unbearably dry as he croaked out words he didn’t really want to say. “Can you please just tell me… how long… do I have?” Medkit questioned, the words falling from his open lips before he could force his mouth shut. 

He didn’t really want to know the answer. He didn’t really want to hear the ticking clock placed on his fate, counting each second until Scythe stood in his doorway, her face casted in shadow as she cut his head clean off with one precise slash.

The Broker grinned again, his facial muscles contracting to form an uncanny expression, the kind of grin he always gave.

“Three days.”

Notes:

Sometimes (In Medkit's case, most of the time), things seem to get better, until they all get worse.

:)

Chapter 7: One last moment of purposeful amnesia

Notes:

Ok guys I'm just gonna post on thursdays now instead of fridays because uhm... because.

I get all my motivation to write on friday afternoons for some reason, so maybe if I post on thursdays, that motivation will mix with the motivation from receiving your sigma kudos and comments and turn me into a motivation monster that can finish 3 chapters in one sitting like a super sigma alpha writer.

Medkit’s running. He doesn’t know where, when or why. But he just is. Everywhere he looks, all surrounding areas are shrouded in utter darkness, shadows stalking his figure from all directions.

He thinks he’s hearing whispers, or are they shouting, just from far away? They say things that he doesn’t want to hear, their voices are all familiar, but so unrecognizable. It hurts.

He shivers, it’s cold. He can see everything around him clearly, he recognizes it all, but he doesn’t know where he is, or what’s going on. He’s alone, or is he? He feels lonely, but it feels like people are watching him from all directions.

His eye hurts… Or, at least where his eye should be, hurts. Medkit raises his hand to the left side of his face to discover that his eye wound was open, blood streaking down his face like tears.

His feet come to a halt as he falls to the ground, his knees digging into the snow. Snow? He’s in Blackrock. Near the outskirts. Medkit’s head swivels to look behind him, and sure enough those towering three mountains glare down at him ominously, blocking any chance of moonlight reaching where he stands.

The longer he stares, the tighter his chest feels. His lungs are swelling with dread and the frostbitten air of Blackrock’s climate. He can hear his blood dripping into the pure white snow, tainting it with the presence of his traitorous self.

Suddenly, the mountains gain eyes. Green, glowing eyes that glare down at him in disgust of his being. They bend and distort to loom over him, stretching over the night sky to trap him in their eternal gaze.

Kicking up snow, Medkit scrambles to his feet, making a break into the unknown of the darkness. He was hoping for anything at this point, anything would be better than this. Anything would be better than Blackrock.

It doesn’t help that the world around him is so painfully blurry, no matter where he looks

His sprinting, once again, comes to a halt as he notices Scythe standing in front of him. Words are stuck in his throat as he backs himself into a tree, his feet refusing to move any further as they are swallowed by the snow, rooting him to the ground.

Scythe approaches him slowly, her weapon drawn as she keeps her head down, not even showing her face to him. The mountains watch heartlessly, their eyes almost widening in wonder as she raises her scythe with the practiced precision of a lumberjack raising their axe to cut down a tree.

Medkit instinctually tried to open his mouth, to beg like a dog and convince her that he was worth keeping alive. But deep down… he really didn’t want to. It wouldn’t change anything. And maybe, being dead was better than being a lapdog again.

So when the lumberjack cut down the willow tree, he was afraid but not angry. Because as its sap splashed onto the surrounding nature, he knew, down in the roots of his feet, that it has always really just been a weed.

—----

Medkit’s pupil constricted as he sat up in his bed. A cold sweat ran down his neck and onto his spine. He twisted his entire body around, kicking his feet to make sure that he could still move him as he sat himself on the side of his bed.

The continuous thumping of his heart in his chest mixed with the sounds of his gasping, strained breaths. Then the room comes back  into his senses, the mirror with his jacket thrown over it, the blank walls, the cold texture of the floor beneath his feet. He places a hand over his eyepatch, confirming that it is, in fact, still there and his wound is, in fact, still stitched and healed.

Medkit inhaled sharply, realising he was back in reality. Groaning, he placed his head in his hands, rubbing at his face in an attempt to bring the rest of his mind back into the present moment.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for Medkit, he’s had them frequently since he left Blackrock. He’s learned the hard way how to convince himself everything is completely okay after the worst parts of his life decide to remix themselves into a tuneless cacophony of images and sounds.

He hates that irrational part of his brain that’s been festering increasingly more since he ran away. That part of his mind that dreads things that aren’t real, or fears events that have already happened and are far from happening again. That part that makes him paranoid, afraid, useless. He hates it.

Reaching over to the door, Medkit switches on the light, blinking rapidly as his eye adjusts to the flashbang of light that floods his room. He stares up at the lightbulb, letting the object burn his pupils for a moment before turning to the clock on the desk, 6:41 AM.

His options consist of laying back down and trying to get another hour or so’s sleep, and likely fail from his mind deciding to replay that nightmare like it’s his favourite movie, or get up early and get to the clinic.

Another groan escaped Medkit, standing up as he picked the second option. He dragged his feet over to the drawers and pulled out yet another modified dirty orange jumpsuit.

As he squeezed the fabric in his grip, he stared down at it with a sigh. Was this going to be his life forever now? Or would he one day have to make another run to yet another organisation and beg for some kind of protection. He didn’t even enjoy practising medicine. At least in the church and Blackrock he did some engineering, which he has some interest in.

Medkit tried to shush his brain as he got dressed, but the events of that nightmare were still rooted into his skull. A shiver of dread ran down his spine when Scythe’s actions in his dream crossed his mind. He scolded himself mentally when his fingers trembled while doing up his buttons. He knew this would happen when he left. He shouldn’t be afraid.

The Broker’s words from the previous night were also squirming in his head, making it pound in fear with each exhausted movement he made. Medkit decided to spend today in denial, and possibly the rest of his life too. Even if she did come in three days, he’d still have the entire prison’s protection, and Banhammer, on his side. He was fine. He was safe.

He was being paranoid, paranoid as he always was. And he wasn’t going to let it consume him this time. Not when he has work to do, not when Coil could drop dead at any moment now if he doesn’t stop being an idiot and figure out how to help him.

When he went back to his apartment with Sword and Rocket, it said he’d only have a week or two. But it had been an entire month. Either, they were really off with their timing, or, more likely, they were just trying to scare him. They were trying to make him freeze up like a deer in headlights so they could run him over easier.

Medkit was not going to let that work on him again. He was not going to let himself be bothered by such pointless, untruthful threats.

Ripping off the jacket that concealed the mirror, he gazed cautiously at his own reflection, as if it would jump out and bite him. He had bags under his eyes, somehow deeper and more obvious than they usually are. He felt utterly exhausted, mentally and physically.

Then he remembered that it was a Thursday, meaning Banhammer and him would be participating in phights for the entire latter half of the day. They chose Thursdays because that was the only day Scythe never attended as she had meetings with the father every Thursday. A pained sigh was the only reaction he could muster as he turned away from the mirror, and looked to the door.

Before he even reached for the doorknob he took the opportunity to bang his head against the wall, his horns impacting the tile with a thud as the crystal floating between them quivered from slamming against the surface.

These next three days were going to pass very slowly.

—----------------------------------------------------------

“She can go back.” Medkit informed the guard outside. He reentered the clinic and sat at his desk as the guard stood the prisoner he was just treating and escorted her back to her cell.

During all the time he’s had in this clinic so far, he’s mostly had to treat small injuries and the occasional cold or stomach ache. Nothing nowhere as confusing and complicated as Coil’s case.

He’s been in a coma for a few months now, just spending all day laying in the clinic, having either Medkit or some random guard take care of him. He’d asked Banhammer if they could transfer him to the hospital in crossroads, but apparently they don’t treat prisoners until absolutely necessary.

Medkit would argue that Coil’s case is absolutely necessary and urgent, but he seems to be dying slow enough for it to not count. Convenient. 

He was silently watching Coil’s chest rise and fall in almost bewilderment to firstly, how none of the typical, and atypical for that matter, cyanide poisoning treatments were working to help him, and secondly, how he’s managed to survive this long in the first place.

He turned his head to the door as someone knocked politely on it. A knock he’d learnt to recognize throughout his time here. Pushing his seat back and getting to his feet, he strided over to the door and opened it.

“You weren’t at my party last night.” Lantern interrogated before Medkit even had a moment to open his mouth. “You went with the boss, didn’t you? But neither of you ever showed up.” She held a stack of miscellaneous papers, and sorted through them idly as she waited for Medkit’s reply.

“Yes. We got lost on the drive over, in that forest on the outskirts of Thieves’ Den. We turned back after a few hours of aimless searching.” He explained, shifting on his feet as Lantern picked out a few pieces of paper from her stack and handed them to him.

Lantern only raised an eyebrow at his reply. “But I live in the centre of Thieves’ Den. You can take the highway from Crossroads, it takes you most of the way there.” She tilted her head to the side as she recalled the directions to her house.

This information made Medkit groan in annoyance. He’d thought that they were at least sort of close to their destination. “Well, Banhammer didn’t bring his phone with him. He didn’t think he needed directions and we drove in circles for like two hours.” He huffed, reminiscing on the memories of that car ride.

“At least you ended up in the right faction? Boss doesn’t have his wings out often, but he, usually, flies everywhere he wants to go so he can make an entrance. Which results in his horrible sense of direction while on the road.” Lantern shrugged, stepping past Medkit to check over the state of his clinic.

Medkit spun on his feet, watching Lantern look over the clinic. She muttered something to herself as she inspected his equipment before turning back to him, her mouth open to say something before she paused, taking a glance at Coil before giving in and staring at Coil.

“One of those papers I gave you was a form requesting donation of equipment from the hospital. I was hoping that maybe it would help you save him.” She sighed, sitting back against his desk slightly as she twirled a piece of her hair around one of her fingers. “I know it’s stupid, but I get really upset when one of the prisoners in here dies. It’s why I’m constantly so busy, y’know? It eases my consciousness to know that I’m helping people, and that I’m going to continue helping people until I die.”

Flicking through the few pages of paper she gave him, he found the form and brought it to the front of the stack, his eye skimming over it. “Thank you, maybe it might.” Medkit muttered, deciding not to acknowledge her secondary statements. The last thing he ever enjoyed doing was getting to know his coworkers' personal lives, half because it complicated things, and half because he just really didn’t care.

Lantern glanced briefly at Medkit and then brought her attention back to Coil’s unconscious body. “You knew him , right? You knew each other before all of this?” She questioned, seemingly taking this opportunity to satiate some of her growing curiosity about him.

Medkit nodded, never lifting his head from the form he was reading. “Yes, I did know Coil. He participated in the same Phighting events that Banhammer and I attend. However, don’t ask me what he was like or anything, we weren’t even remotely close.” He shrugged his shoulders as he looked over the various other documents Lantern had handed him.

“He’s from Playground, right?” She continued to ask, curiously poking Coil’s bicep with her finger before seemingly realising how strange that action was and taking a flustered step away from his bed.

“Yes.” Medkit confirmed hesitantly, waiting to see if there was a work-related purpose to this conversation, or if he would need to find a way to side-step out of it so she’d leave him alone and he could, once again, avoid socialising.

Lantern narrowed her eyes at Coil, before turning her body to Medkit once again. “Have you looked into the native flora of Playground? It could be a poisonous plant or something, and it would make sense why you missed it, Playground’s native flora isn’t typically written about. Maybe you missed something?” She suggested, arms crossing against her chest.

“That’s…” Medkit trailed off as he thought over it. “That’s… something I should look into further…” He mumbled, deciding not to admit that he practically gave no mind to toxic plants after all the ones he knew were ruled out. Although, it could probably be excused, he’s not had the most clear mind these days.

—--------

“Rocket.” Medkit articulated, walking over after catching a glimpse of him from the other side of the phighting lobby. “Is Sword not joining you today?” He questioned, feeling admittedly a little disappointed that he wasn’t there. At this point, spending time around Sword’s stupidity was the only thing that made his life feel normal.

Rocket shook his head, looking honestly disappointed in his answer as he shrugged his shoulders, his prosthetic arm clanking gently as he gestured. “Nope. His dad needed him for something or other so it's just me today, or, er, us, I guess.” He corrected himself, not wanting to seem rude.

Medkit and Rocket were friends, just nowhere near as close as they were respectively with Sword. They only happened to share a mutual friend and got along well enough to mildly trust one another. At least, that’s how Medkit viewed it.

“That’s fine. I actually needed to speak with you anyways. You… were originally from Playground, yes?” Medkit questioned, to which he regretted slightly as Rocket’s expression immediately turned defensive and sour.

“Yes… but I left when I was very young, and I don’t remember much about it.” Rocket waved his prosthetic hand in the air, as if trying to dismiss this conversation from taking place. He could be lying to get out of talking about it, for all Medkit knew. “...Or, at least, I don’t remember any of the good stuff, if there even was any.” He eventually added on with a guarded growl.

Pausing, Medkit pondered whether or not it was worth it to ask him “...Y’know how I’m treating Coil? Well, I have reason to suspect that he’s been poisoned using some kind of native playground plant. Can you think of any plant containing cyanide that someone could have used?”

In response, Rocket scoffed. “Sorry. During my time fighting to survive on the streets of Playground, I can assure you I wasn’t memorising any plant names.” He muttered, placing his hands in his pockets.

Medkit nodded understandingly. In Rocket’s defence, he probably would’ve gotten equally snooty if someone had asked him about his thoughts on the flora and fauna of Blackrock. Especially since Blackrock didn’t even let the majority of its citizens see the flora and fauna in the first place. “Apologies. I wasn’t really expecting you to remember anyways, I just… thought it was worth a shot.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the moment for a brief second, neither of them particularly interested in talking until Rocket sighed, tapping Medkit’s shoulder to get his attention before pointing out someone a little ways off. “You should go ask Vinestaff, she’s not from Playground, but she knows more about plants than anyone else I can think of.”

Shifting on the bright green grass of the lobby, Medkit glanced over his shoulder and took notice of Vinestaff, bickering with her brother a little ways behind him. Of course, asking Vinestaff from the start was a much wiser idea. And yet, it didn’t even cross his mind.

Maybe it was Broker’s threat sinking into his mind, distracting him from his usual fixation on logic, or maybe it was his lack of proper sleep creeping up on him. Either way, Medkit’s sense of rationality was lost to a dense fog that he could hardly see through. He felt a sickening sense of incompetency surge into his joints. He felt like he was getting dumber.

“Right. I’ll… do that. Thank you.” Medkit grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Rocket to hear and raise an eyebrow at his response, before practically dragging his feet over to where Vinestaff was standing. He decided that he evidently did not want to think currently. He’s been trying to avoid his usual paranoid and frightened response to danger, but he might as well be killing himself with how slowly this day has seemed to go.

Taking cautious steps, like someone would spring out and rip him into pieces at any given moment, Medkit approached Vinestaff, clearing his throat to get her attention. “Vinestaff? Excuse me, but I was wondering if you knew anything about poisonous plants? Perhaps ones that could have been used to poison Coil? Preferably, ones native to Playground.”

Vinestaff turned to face him, her face lighting slightly up at the subject of that question. “Oh? Uhm… There's love lilies? They’re little white ones with pink heart patterns on their petals, which contain cardiac glycosides, which stop your heart, but they are pretty rare.”


Medkit shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. “No... Coil’s condition has been worsening in his respiratory system more than his heart, and the only abnormal thing in his tests was the cyanide in his blood. Are there any you can think of that contain cyanide?”

With that question, Vinestaff bit her lip, silently searching her brain for an answer. If she couldn’t think of anything, Medkit didn’t know what he’d do. Let Coil’s once abundant energy slowly fade, while he did nothing but sit and watch, too absolved in his own issues to think clearly enough to save his life? What an awful fate, to die in a musty prison clinic, because your crimes are too serious to be transferred to a hospital where they had the resources to keep you alive?

It wasn’t fair, Medkit knew it, everyone knew it. But nothing in this world was ever fair, and it would never change. Without power, money or status, you’d never get anything you want. It was just how it was. Forever.

“The clown flower!” Vinestaff snapped her fingers, exclaiming the thought as it came to her and magically, the concept of hope restored itself in Medkit’s mind. Maybe he wasn’t becoming useless. “It’s a species of hydrangea that can grow in other places, but is mostly found in Playground. It contains cyanide and slowly shuts down the respiratory system of the victim!” She explains, a smile on her face so wide that it makes the topic they’re discussing seem morbid.

Finally, after so goddamn long of making guesses and assumptions, he had some kind of clue as to how to actually do his job properly. After all, being useful is what he’s good at, and he has to keep being just that if he wants to be able to survive this world.

Surely, he’d cure Coil, stay in Banland and be safe from the church when they come for him in two days time. Surely, he’d be utterly fine and wouldn’t need to go running to Banhammer for safety again like a pathetic little leech.

Surely he’d survive this.

He had to.

He was going to.

He knew he would.

Notes:

Medkit, stop being emo and homosexual, Coil's actually dying.

Also no Banhammer this chapter... sigh... asdsaassdsafdaasgdaagdhuuuuuuugasbdhbasdhsabdashfkkkllkkk

Chapter 8: Two newly friendly souls

Denial was Medkit’s favourite stage of grief currently, even if the person he was grieving was- in theory- himself . He didn’t plan to ever leave his denial, because denial was the only thing keeping him from slipping deeper into paranoia, and then paranoia leads to illogical decisions, and illogical decisions leads to Medkit being pathetic and useless and butchered alive by the church.

He also needed to speak to Banhammer about that flower, the clown flower, that Vinestaff mentioned the day before. Although, he had set out to find some runaways earlier that morning, and hadn’t returned yet.

No big deal, I mean,  it’s just Coil’s life on the line. He can probably survive another day or two. So, no rush to figure out how to cure him or anything! 

Unfortunately, with no patients and no Banhammer. Medkit had nothing to do except bargain with his own mind.

So, he sat in his clinic, absent-mindedly spinning a pen between his fingers as he waited for another failed riot to bring in a wave of begrudging inmates that he’d need to patch up, all while dodging questions about Coil’s unconscious presence.

That’s who he was expecting to open those doors, a guard, Banhammer, maybe even Lantern. But no, as without knocking, the door swung open to reveal… Sword. Sword, with his usual beaming, puppydog smile.

Medkit swivelled his seat around, mouth hanging open slightly in bewilderment. Nobody was meant to enter the gates of Banland without a pass. So either, he was here on business with Banhammer, or, an option that- in light of recent discoveries- is sounding more likely, he broke in to see Medkit.

Sword failed to hold back a teasing chuckle at Medkit’s reaction. “Turns out that the SFOTH family doesn’t need a pass. Probably so that my auntie or uncles can burst in unannounced to put a leash back on Banhammer, but… it also means I can visit whenever I want!” He grinned, clearly proud of making this revelation.

Those words made a slight smile form on his lips, one too vague to notice, but too big to push down.. “And you found this out… how ?” He’d question, glad that someone was there to break the silence, and especially glad that of all people, it was Sword, not a whiney prisoner who’d complain about getting stitches.

“Uhh… trial and error?” Sword gave a nervous shrug, his face turning slightly redder. “I needed to tell you something, but you still don’t have a phone, and Banhammer wouldn’t respond to me, so I took matters into my own hands.” He explains, casually strolling into the clinic, before his eyes widened slightly in shock as he passed Coil’s bed.

“...meaning?” Medkit added, practically begging for the amusement of hearing how Sword , of all inphernals on this world, managed to worm himself into a place that is considered by most definitions, a fortress.

Sword shrugged. “I just… went up to the gate and asked . Once they figured out I was the son of Venomshank, they let me in without any further questioning.” He said it as if he didn’t believe it happened either. “One of the guards explained it to me once I got inside.”

Medkit chuckled, raising a hand to his face in a failed attempt to conceal the grin that was growing on his face. “What could you possibly need to tell me that’s so important you felt the need to even try that?” He’d question, resting his head against his hand as he raised an eyebrow at Sword.

“The church members have stopped showing up to phights! It’s not just Thursdays anymore, they’re never there. Broker, nor Scythe.” Sword explained enthusiastically, clearly missing the subtext that would come with those words as Medkit’s smile dropped almost instantly.

They’re doing something, or planning something, more important than showing up to phights and earning money from it. Something, that as far as he’s concerned, surely relates to him, and what they were supposedly going to do to him the day after tomorrow. Kill him.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to come to the phighting arena today, with Rocket and I? It’s been really weird never having you around.” Sword admits, scratching at his scalp as he lifts his helmet. “I’m sure Banhammer’s fine with it, he told me after that trip we took to your apartment that he doesn’t really care if I take you places. Y’know, as long as it’s not somewhere with the church and all.”


The offer is sweet. So sweet and kind and warm, and everything good. The offer is so, almost stereotypically, Sword. And it’s that he didn't want to say yes. He’d do anything to take his mind off of the church, to get out of this place and take a moment to forget his current situation.

But that news, that news that the church was up to something? That information was going to fester and blossom into fear, and in fact, it might have already been doing so.

He wanted to live. To spend time with his friends. To do normal people things.

But as he considered it. He knew. He knew that saying yes may be his deathbed.

The church can find him easier if he’s out there. They have eyes everywhere.

And the last thing he wanted was to put  himself- or even more horrifically, Sword - in more danger.

Medkit didn’t flinch, his gaze hardly even flickered from Sword’s hopeful and excited expression. His tone was monotone, his face was still stoic.

“Maybe next time, Sword. You should get home, I have work to do, and I need to consult Banhammer.”

He didn’t want to think about the church. And that meant keeping busy. Working more. And more. That meant saving Coil. I mean, saving Coil’s life should probably be a higher priority than his own frivolous joys anyways.

He didn’t want to think about the church, because thoughts like those would be what rips him from his sweet ignorance. What forces him away from denial.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Give me your phone.” Medkit commanded, his hand outstretched as he glared seriously at Banhammer’s slouched figure.

With a scoff of confusion, the warden, who was eating a sandwich in the staff quarters cafeteria, raised his head to meet his gaze. “Uhhh… no?” He replied, muffled through a mouthful of food as he wiped breadcrumbs off his stubble-covered chin with the back of his hand. “What do you even want it for?”

Fighting to hold back a smirk, Medkit gave his reply. “I need to google something. Y’know, to save Coil’s life, probably.” He stepped closer, sitting slightly on the edge of the table as he outstretched his hand further, gesturing for Banhammer to give it to him.

Banhammer’s four haunting eyes glared hesitantly at Medkit, the two exchanging a long string of negotiations through glances alone before Banhammer grumbled and reached for his phone. “Yeah, whatever, just don’t go anywhere while you have it.”

Thankfully, Banhammer wasn’t wearing his armor currently, and therefore wouldn’t need to shed metal for 5 minutes to take his phone out of his pocket. He reached into the pocket of his gym shorts and pulled out his phone.

Medkit, who was honestly expecting far more of a fight on Banhammer’s half, took the device from the demigod’s hand. He didn’t even question Medkit’s motives any further than that one question. Either Banhammer was naive to the things Medkit could do with access to the internet, or- arguably worse -what he could have done with Banhammer’s data and search history.

Or, Banhammer just trusted him. For some odd reason. Medkit’s heart, a part of him that he was mildly convinced was entirely gone, squeezed slightly in his chest as his fingers brushed Banhammer’s scarred palm as he lifted the phone into his own grip.

Medkit pushed down a grin at Banhammer’s lockscreen being an old picture of Banhammer and his mother. The picture was old, Banhammer looked young, and arguably far less scruffy.

“Yesterday, in the phighting lobby, I spoke with Vinestaff. Apparently there’s a flower in Playground that contains cyanide and its effects match what I’ve observed so far in Coil’s condition.” Medkit explained, his face as stoic as always, but maybe with a hint of excitement, as he turned the screen to Banhammer’s crumb-covered face to unlock it.

Watching Medkit type away on his phone, Banhammer took another bite of his food, chewing slowly before answering. “If he does live, ask him who in hell poisoned him. My cops investigated as much as they could without steppin’ foot in Playground, but nothin’ ever came up.”

Nodding, Medkit searched ‘What is the cure for clown flower poisoning?,” scrolling past the usual please-don’t-sue-us legal warning telling people to see their doctor and never trust the internet.

Apparently, because cases of clown flower poisonings are so rare, there’s no simple drug that they can plug into Coil and have him be magically cured. In fact, the only known remedy is the juice from an echo cactus. A cactus native to one particular faction. Lost temple.

Damn this world. Damn the Inpherno and its inability to give the inphernals that wander upon it decent lives and decent educations. Damn this world and its reliance on the few, like himself, cursed with healing gears, instead of encouraging the innovation and studying of medicine and drugs.

Somewhere out there is a universe in which Blackrock hadn’t dismissed his idea for the crystals. And he formed a discovery so powerful that generations of inphernals who were unluckily spat out a spawnpoint with a healing gear would live ordinary lives. A life much more ordinary than his has been, at least.

“There’s a cactus that grows in Lost temple that may be able to cure him with its fluid content. The echo cactus.” Medkit explains to Banhammer, who had now inhaled the rest of his sandwich and was likely just hanging around for the satisfaction of the outcome of the mystery. He flipped the phone to show the demigod a picture of the plant. 

He had seen these cacti often during his time with the church. They poked stubbornly into the desert horizon like thorns, their black and red flowers adding patches of contrasting colour to the dusty and barren landscape.

Banhammer looked at the image briefly, his four eyes squinting slightly at it as he snatched his phone back. “About damn time we got him out of your clinic, huh?” He’d snicker, grinning at Medkit as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. “I gotta see my momma tomorrow, but we can head out to Lost temple the day after, Sunday, I think.”

One half of Medkit wanted to argue for more urgency. What if Coil couldn’t last two more days. Then he felt his chest squeeze as he came to a far more chilling realisation, what if Medkit couldn’t last two more days. That is the day Broker threatened him about.

Even if they didn’t come for him, even if Broker was simply doing what he usually does, squirming his way into Medkit’s head just to toy with him and conspire with his fears and paranoia. Broker, to an extent, the entire church, colluded with his trauma into making him think exactly in the way he wanted him to think. The way he’s recently been forcing himself not to think. Paranoid.

The Broker always had some inner sadistic motive, which was quite a pain because Broker and Scythe aren’t idiots . Part of why he left is he didn’t want to keep playing a never ending game of mind-chess with them. I mean, the Broker and Medkit were evenly matched in their skill at chess. But it was like the Broker’s pieces didn’t have restrictions on illegal moves, and Medkit could only move any of his pieces on weeknights, public holidays and Thursdays.

 Even if this is just mind games, was he really going to let himself wander directly into their home turf, with nothing but an idiot demigod and his own sense of hope to protect his horns from becoming wall decor?

No. He decided. He most certainly was not.

But was his paranoia just clouding his judgement? What if Broker’s threat was just getting to him? What if Banhammer had been right from the beginning? The church wouldn’t try to go against a demigod, they wouldn’t because they couldn’t win. Could they?

But surely, it was better not to risk it, right? Banland is an impenetrable force… an impenetrable force he’s realised has had members of the church slip from their grasp more times than possible to count on fingers and toes. Broker alone made up half of them.

This is why he didn’t want to think about the church.

“No.” Medkit muttered, partially in reply to Banhammer's suggestion, but mostly to himself so he could make a logical, decent decision. He then took a glance at the demigod’s puzzled expression. “N-No as in, not the day after tomorrow. Any other day is fine.” He scattered to explain, his arms crossing against his chest a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over him. He’d need to explain why. Which means he either has to admit he’s been withholding information, or lie to him.

And Banhammer, as predictable as ever, stood from his seat at the table, glaring at Medkit with an expression of suspicion and, perhaps, worry . “Medkit. Why not the day after tomorrow?” Whatever warm grin Banhammer had recently gotten used to using with Medkit, it slowly dropped.

His clinic duties were always put on hold when he left the prison, and things that were time sensitive were performed by Lantern or an off-duty guard. He really didn’t have any good excuse.

“It’s…” He trailed off, heart beginning to pound as he visibly tensed. “...complicated.” Medkit replied, trying to maintain his usual uncaring facade. “In a… dangerous sense. I mean… taking me to Lost temple ? I thought you didn’t want the church to find me?” Whatever casual tone Medkit had recently gotten used to using with Banhammer, it was erased within a matter of seconds.

“Don’t turn his back ‘round on me, Doc.” Banhammer warned, approaching with heavy footsteps as he glared down at Medkit, leaning his face in closer to try to intimidate him into giving him a usable answer. “What’s so special ‘bout the day after tomorrow? This is my prison. I need to know what’s goin’ on. Especially if it involves Lost Temple and your ol’ creepy cult friends.” His fingertips grip slightly on the collar of Medkit’s uniform.


Having anyone up in your face is uncomfortable, but when that someone is a nearly seven foot demigod who has the means, and reason, to kill you on the spot, there’s very little most won’t do. Medkit leans back, in a useless attempt to evade Banhammer’s gaze. Some strange part of him, something deep in his bone, for some odd and horrible reason, doesn’t want to lie to him.

“One of the days that the Broker was in and out of the prison… He insinuated that the looming clock Scythe has placed on my name is… ticking faster than I thought it was. I made the mistake of questioning him about what he meant, he said I had three days.” Medkit gruffly muttered, pushing the warden’s face away a bit by pushing his palm to Banhammer’s forehead.

Banhammer might as well have nearly growled at Medkit in frustration as his scarred hands tensed, gripping his shirt tighter, a dry scoff echoing out of his mouth. “So what? You just… forgot to tell me that? That the Broker threatened you, and gave you a specific day when Scythe was going to attack the prison, and you…you what ?...  You thought I didn’t need to know? I thought you were meant to be the smart one!”

“We’ve been taking every day with the precaution that Scythe might show up and kill me. Tell me, truthfully, how is two days from now going to be any different at all?” Medkit scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. He was well within his reason to not inform Banhammer of Broker’s little threat. After all, if he kept nagging Banhammer about his safety, then he doubted he would continue to tolerate him for long. “He was probably just messing with me, you of all people should know his expertise in spouting lies like second nature.”

Banhammer squeezed at the fabric of his shirt, the veins in his hands popping as he glared at him with irritation. “ Maybe ! Or maybe she’s gonna free all the other goddamn prisoners in this buildin’, while I’m too preoccupied babysittin’ you!” He yelled, his loud, gruff voice now causing more of a scene than usual, the other employees were now all staring at their interaction. “And who cares if he’s bluffin’, I should still fuckin’ know!”

Tense fingers gripped at Banhammer’s wrist as Medkit refused to back down. Banhammer wouldn’t kill him, for the same reason the church didn’t when they first found him, they needed him. He was useful. He needed him, even if he’d never admit it. “I could handle it on my own .” He grumbled. “And I don’t need you to babysit me.” 

Deep down, Medkit knew he was lying. He just spat out whatever cards he had left in his hand to defend his intelligence. Medkit knew what he’s always known. Without his revolver- and in some cases, even with his revolver -Medkit was completely and utterly defenceless besides his own wit. He was pathetic and he knew it. He did need Banhammer to protect him. However, that doesn’t mean he wanted him to.

“Oh yeah?” Banhammer smirked pettily, his hand suddenly dropping Medkit’s collar as he sauntered a few paces back. “Then I’ll go get ‘em damn cactuses for you on Sunday. By myself . I’ll even tell the guards to not defend the clinic! See how your paranoia handles that. Another day where you’ve been handed a death sentence, but this time, I know better than to pull your self-absorbed ass out of it.” He announced, gritting his teeth at Medkit before storming away.

Banhammer was not the person to be talking about being self-absorbed. Medkit can’t remember a single time he acted in anything other than his own self interest. Although, in a way, Medkit can admit that he may have a point. Because Medkit wasn’t known for his selflessness either.

But Banhammer was arrogant, annoying and, possibly worse of all, petty . He cared more about the trivial than the important, because the trivial was the only part that actually affected him. Still, Medkit couldn’t bring himself to understand why he was angry about this. He can’t think of why he cared so much that Medkit didn’t tell him.

Banland is safe against the church. They both know that fact well. So why bother with this whole temper tantrum?

Medkit was going to question it further, until the blazing sound of gossiping murmurs echoed against the walls of the staff quarters. Employees either gazed at him like some unfortunate endangered animal, or glared at him as if he had just stabbed them all collectively in the back. 

The room was silent. And some filthy part of him wanted Banhammer to come back, if not to take some of the attention off himself, then to ground him by spouting some stupidity ridiculous enough to make his stoic expression crack.


He doesn’t like the staring, nor the murmuring, nor the fact that he was now going to need to convince himself he was still safe without Banhammer and the Banland guards on his side.

Medkit balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he turned to leave the room. He needed to escape their stares, their eyes. He needed to figure out what he was even going to do about this.

Should he go back and fight Banhammer, convince him to change his mind? No, Medkit wasn’t that desperate, or, at least, he didn’t want to look that desperate and pathetic. Not to Banhammer, least of all.

Surely, he’d be fine.

The broker was bluffing.

He had to be bluffing.

This was just a game of chess. A game in which Medkit just lost all pieces except his king, but his opponent was probably going to forfeit the match before it even started.

Medkit would be fine.

He was safe.

He’d find a way out of it, a way to live. He always did. He always survived and he always ended up getting what he wanted.

…Didn’t he?

…

He was fine.

He was going to survive this, he always does.

Medkit would live to see the dawn of Monday morning.

Medkit would live for thousands of dawns after that.

And there was nothing that he needed to be afraid of.

Notes:

Gosh, somebody KILL these guys !!!! They have the infinite STUPID glitch !!!! HACKERS !!!!

Uhhhhh I've been getting a million good fic ideas recently but I can't write any of them, cause if I do I won't finish this one... sigh...

ALSO IT DOESN'T HELP THAT LIFES ABOUT TO GET REAAALLLLY FOR A MONTH GSGASDGSADSDSADHADHSADSADASDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

but um... medhammer peak ig???!!

Chapter 9: Three moments without precaution

Vulnerability wasn’t something Medkit admired, or even particularly cared about. It was naivety living under a different name. It was a concept he knew would reap consequences that proved deadly.

But as he stood in front of the doors to Banhammer’s quarter’s, he struggled to compose himself. Medkit felt naked in the worst way possible. Nobody’s around, and yet he already felt so seen. Like a predator was lurking in the shadows between the cracks of the volcanic black stone, watching, waiting, staring. Preparing to pounce and sink its teeth into the supple skin on his neck.

Despite the heat, a chilling shiver rippled down his spine as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Banhammer’s quarters were bigger than all the others. He had to go out the back doors of the staff quarters and stumble around the back of the volcano to even find it. From the outside, it just looked like another ashy, black box. But through the windows, he caught a glimpse of the frankly quaint and home-y interior.

One thing he was well aware of was that he had to try. He knew he needed Banland. He knew he needed Banhammer. His pride just happened to get in his way of remaining safe, as it usually does. Now, on what might be the most dangerous day of his life, he’d have nothing with him to keep him safe.

Medkit raised his hand, baring his knuckles at the thick door as he hesitated to knock. Was this really a good idea?

I mean, he honestly doubted Banhammer would have the understanding or patience to genuinely listen to anything Medkit had to say. He was probably too irritated and petty to have the strength to care. If Banhammer was even capable of caring at all, that is.

But… he seemed to care about Medkit, didn't he? There was very little personal benefit to justify protecting Medkit to the degree he had been. Why else would he have tried- and admittedly failed- to drive him to that party? For entertainment? Medkit isn't particularly known for being exciting company.

As ridiculously ludicrous as it sounds, for what must be some odd, primal reason, Medkit wanted Banhammer to care .

There was little reasoning behind that want, other than maybe the fact that it meant he could trust just one more person. And maybe Medkit found… comfort in his presence, perhaps, a silent promise that he was safe, and that everything was going to be okay. He knew better than to actually believe that promise, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to know it was there.

Medkit was suddenly forced to come to terms with the fact that he wants Banhammer near. And, more disgustingly so, he wanted Banhammer to want him near too.

Or maybe Banhammer was just intrigued, which was far less comforting, but a little more reasonable. Banhammer was interested by his story, or perhaps his bleak personality, or perhaps even by Sword’s connection with him. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to Medkit. All he had to do was shut his mouth and keep Banhammer intrigued enough to put up with the hassle of keeping him breathing and alive.

And yet, their deal was over for one day. The one day where Medkit needed it the most. Come Monday morning, if Scythe really does come for him, maybe as she struck blades into his skull, he could have the comfort of knowing that it was Banhammer’s fault, and not the root of his own decisions.

But Medkit knew there was nothing factual about that idea. It's impossible to pin this all on Banhammer. He doesn’t want to pin this all on Banhammer.

His knuckles pressed against the door, but he didn’t knock. Something in him was telling him he couldn't, he shouldn't. That he was only going to offend Banhammer further and get himself thrown out and killed, or put back on death row.

He shivered at the thought of being in that cage again. Exposed, suspended in the air, suffering for those below to watch. Awaiting the kind embrace of his last moments, where for a split three moments, he'd feel like a real person again.

What is a ‘real’ person anyways? Because Medkit sure as hell has never felt like one. He’s a tool, a valuable resource that’s gone from being one organisation’s property to another. Medkit thinks that he’s more than that, but he knows better than to try and challenge fate.

Just when you think fate’s picked your side, it rolls you around softly in its arms to get a better angle to kick you in the face until your blood-stained features are unrecognisable.

Medkit let his gaze fall to the rocky and rough, volcanic ground beneath his feet, his fingertips clenching tighter into a fist as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. This wasn't a good idea, it couldn't be. Banhammer was no saint. Nothing he could say would change his mind.

Tomorrow, he would be alone. 

And maybe, that's a good thing. Maybe his paranoia will falter if he can prove to his subconscious that he doesn't need supervision to survive. 

Or, maybe the day would end with his blood-soaked horns framed and hung on the walls of the church's temple.

Maybe.

His feet dragged slightly as he wandered back to his clinic, the deep bubbling of lava sounding louder than it usually is. Or maybe, Medkit’s world just felt that much more quiet.

Why should he make himself vulnerable again? What good would come from Banhammer witnessing how pathetic, weak, paranoid and afraid Medkit really was? For what? The unlikely scenario that the Broker was telling the truth?

He’s always been fine by himself. He’s always been able to wriggle himself out of horrific situations by relying only on himself.

He was perfectly fine with being alone.

He would be perfectly fine with being alone.

—------------

Medkit’s leather dress shoes clattered against the pavement. A stone brick pathway lined with streetlamps guided his steps. This was… Crossroads, wasn’t it? It was a street he had walked down many times before, but this time… something was different.

The buildings that were meant to surround the street were shrouded by void, an empty darkness that spilled into his vision from all directions. He could hardly even see where he was going, like he was walking nowhere infinitely.

“Medkit!...” A hushed voice called, but as he swerved his head around, nobody was nearby. His feet stopped their clattering, as he searched the nearby area for the source of the voice.

But as he approached the void, something stronger, some higher power that he couldn’t understand pushed him back. It wasn’t exactly a push, per say, his mind just started screaming at him to turn back when he got too close to the edge of the road. So, he continued to wander down the street.

“Medkit…! Medkit…!” It continued, but this time Medkit didn’t stop to look, why would he? He was alone, wasn’t he? His mind was playing some sort of cruel trick on him. There was no point in stopping. All he could do is what he’s always done. Move forward. Run.

The world was cold. It was colder than it was meant to be. Medkit felt himself shiver, the light from the crystal between his horns flickering as a cold wind enveloped him. “MEDKIT!” The voice cried, screaming at him, but now sounding further and further away.

His eye hurt. Or, his eye socket, at least. It hurt so bad, and the aching only got worse with each step he took. But he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t turn back. It was impossible to break through that silent, intangible force that kept him on his path deeper into the void.

“MEDKIT! MEDKIT, PLEASE!” It squealed, or, was it another voice? It didn’t sound quite the same as the other one. Another gust of freezing wind made his hair fly back, his hands pressing into his chest as he struggled to stay warm.

It ached, it’s always ached. It stung and it stabbed and it throbbed. He had just gotten used to the pain. Medkit raised his hand to the eyepatch covering the wound, fingers struggling to grip the fabric as he ripped it off., hoping to relieve some of the burning pressure. He bit down on his tongue to muffle a strangled, painful groan.

“MEDDY!” Another voice cried. “MEDKIT!” Screamed another, and another, and another. Each one was only vaguely more familiar than the last as they drilled into his ears and rang in his head.

Still, Medkit trudged on. Deeper into the void. Further down this dimly-lit path that led him nowhere he could predict. Even as his legs started to burn, struggling to lift off the ground as if he was being rooted down to the pavement.

The voices got louder, and louder. His eye only hurt more and more. His feet slowly stopped lifting off the ground, and with a grunt, he sunk into his knees, a horrible migraine surging in his head, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest..

“MEDS!”


“MEDKIT!”

“MEDKIT, GET UP!”

The voices sobbed more as the void approached closer and closer from behind him. If he didn’t start moving again, it would catch up. Whatever was behind him could catch up and swallow him whole.

But his feet wouldn’t move. He ached less when he was down. But that was a bad thing, wasn’t it? He was leaving himself vulnerable, susceptible. The burn, the ache, was good. It kept him alert. It kept him alive. He needed the pain just as much as the pain seemed to need him.

It didn’t matter how hard he tried to clamber to his feet. He wouldn’t make it up. And as the void approached closer and closer from behind, that indescribable screaming force returned in his head. KEEP MOVING. GO. YOU WON’T MAKE IT. GO, RUN. GET AWAY! YOU HAVE TO GET AWAY!

Medkit tried to listen, he really did, but his body wasn’t listening to him. The world around him wasn’t listening to him. But, then again, when has it ever?

 

Something warm lunged forward from the void and planted itself on his shoulder. A hand. Someone’s hand. Medkit dared himself to look back and identify who’s calloused, large hand it was, and he was met with a silhouette. A four-eyed silhouette, much taller and wider than him, with pointed purple horns sprouted from each side of its head.

Banhammer?

The void crept closer as Banhammer’s hand gripped tighter, almost as if trying to pull Medkit backwards, into the approaching darkness. Medkit only panicked further, hardly containing a sob as eyes appeared in the void. Watching. Waiting. Staring. Glaring into his soul with disgust.

All eyes were on him. He wanted to curl up and let the void take him, make himself so insignificant that the eyes would go away, find something more interesting to stare at. Medkit wasn’t any kind of shock-and-awe carnival act to be watched, judged and admired. His life wasn’t for other’s amusement, and his suffering certainly wasn’t either.

The voices screamed. His body ached. The nothingness was seconds away from swallowing him whole. Banhammer’s grip tried to yank him back once more.

But he refused.

Medkit desperately forced himself to take another step, nearly screaming from the sheer excruciating pain, and, to his surprise, fell forward, through the pavement, and into someplace new. Someplace damp and indoors.

It was dark, but a flickering light shone above him. A mirror, displaying his hideous, disgruntled facial scarring, stared back at him from dead ahead, Banhammer’s hand still gripping his shoulder.

He raised his hand to try and push Banhammer off, but he couldn’t move his body, each limb was restrained to the horribly uncomfortable chair he was sitting in. It honestly felt similar to that shitty wooden chair in Banhammer’s office. On the wall, far to his right was a large switch, too large to be for the light. Something metal was pressed to his scalp.

Oh. The electric chair.

“B-Banhammer.” Medkit whispered, his brain unable to even comprehend anything else he could say. “ Banhammer. ” He repeated himself, a little louder this time, hands trembling as he dug his fingernails into the splintered wood of the chair.

Twitching uncontrollably against his restraints, Medkit fought back tears welling in his eyes. Was there no escaping this fate?

“BANHAMMER.” He desperately cried. “BANHAMMER, WHAT THE FUCK?! LET ME GO!” The leather straps didn’t budge, digging deeper into his skin as he struggled. Banhammer didn’t say a word.

He couldn’t turn his head to see Banhammer’s expression, but he could see it in the mirror. Or… could he? There was a vague silhouette behind him, but there were none of the details or intricacies of his figure. Just an uncanny blur. The kind of blur he’s trained himself to recognise.

“...I’m dreaming.” The realisation hit him like a bag of bricks.

“‘Course you are.” Banhammer replied, his voice flatter than it would be if it was really him. “When are you not?”

Medkit paused.“...About you ?” He mockingly muttered in disbelief. He was being half rhetorical. His subconscious probably just picked Banhammer to represent his death in this dream because of that petty, childish decision he had made yesterday. The decision that could possibly determine the fate of Medkit’s continuous lifespan. The notion was morbid, if he was being honest.

Not-actually-Banhammer’s grip loosened on Medkit’s shoulder, his hand now just resting against him. “ ...Is this about me?” He’d chuckle, rubbing his hand almost comfortingly into the orange fabric of Medkit’s jumpsuit. “Is it really ?”

There wasn’t any intelligible reply from Medkit, just a scoff as he pressed his head back against the chair, staring up at the blinking lightbulb that hung drably from the ceiling. He met his subconscious’ version of Banhammer's expression. His face was similarly stubble-covered, scarred and smug. But it wasn’t quite right. Like his features shifted into something just mildly new with each breath that escaped his lungs.

The demigod leaned over, his face hovering uncomfortably close. “A better question is, are you happy to see me, Doc?” Banhammer chuckled, the dream somehow perfectly capturing his signature wide grin. His hands crawled over to run a stubby finger down Medkit’s neck, making him flinch away.

Medkit didn’t have an answer for that either. He was angry at him. Pissed at how arrogantly petty he was. Playing with Medkit’s life so he could ploy Medkit into stroking his ego? It was pathetic and cruel. Horrific and idiodic in the most aggravating way.

But, then again. Pathetic and cruel were two adjectives that could be used to describe Medkit at times. And maybe, with his own recent decisions, idiodic too.

But at least Banhammer’s idiocy- infuriating as it is -was at least comforting and endearing in its own strange way. Or maybe it was Banhammer’s presence that was comforting. Either way, Medkit planned to shove those pitiful feelings so far back down his throat that he’d need to be dissected alive for them to ever see the light of day.

Reluctantly, Medkit stopped trying to pull away from Banhammer’s touch. It’s not like there was anywhere to go, after all. “I think my mind is torturing me.” He’d mutter hoarsely, not giving any further clarification as he let the lid of his eye flutter shut, as if falling asleep in his dream would make the real him wake up.

He quickly abandoned that notion when he remembered that when he woke up, it would most likely be the day of his death. He’d wake up and truly feel alone. Unless Sword decides to show up, which he doubts, there would be genuinely nobody around who would try to save him.

And if Medkit was being honest, he’d much rather go in his sleep. Have his last moments be in a gentle dream with pleasant company, or someone who’s almost pleasant company. He’d have his last moments be in this chair, like they were supposed to be.

Banhammer’s grin widened as pulled back from Medkit again, his posture slack as he rested casually against the side of the chair. “You’re lookin’ awfully comfortable.” He stated the obvious, his calloused hands finally pulling themselves away from Medkit’s frame. “Indulge me. Is it ‘cause I’m here? Or is it ‘cause y’know this is all in your head?”

“The second one. I trust my mind.” Medkit bluntly replied. “My head may play the worst and cruelest of tricks on me, but at the end of the day, it hasn’t been my bleeding heart that’s kept me alive.” He’d scoff sarcastically, watching his empty reflection in the mirror.

Now that he thinks about it, his own reflection is distorted too. He must just not look at his own face enough to recognise the blurs and faults conjured by his dream-state. And maybe he’s imagining it, but Medkit swears his sewn eye socket looks more gruesome in that reflection than it does when he’s awake.

“And that’s what you want? To stay alive?” His subconscious is starting to question him. Which is bad because it means that he wasn’t thinking clearly enough recently to have heard it before.

Medkit’s eyebrows furrow. “More than anything. I need to survive this, and I know I will. That’s simply how my life goes. How it’s always gone, and always will go.”

“You’d rather be dead while alive, than die while living ? Living, in the sense of doing anything more with your life than aimlessly existing ? ” His mind retorts, the projection of Banhammer seeming less accurate as he gets more and more frustrated with himself.

“I have to be alive first, in order to be living. My happiness will come only on a day where I am, firstly, safe . A morning where I awake without fear, a day where I work for a career, and not solely out of self-preservation. Once I am truly alive, then maybe, I’ll be graced with the luxury of having the opportunity to live. Maybe .”

Banhammer's calloused hands suddenly cupped Medkit’s face, pushing his head back so he could look him in the eye.

“But, Medkit.” He’d soullessly chuckle, his touch far too gentle to be even remotely realistic. “...aren’t you already alive?”

There wasn’t any chance for Medkit to retort, as Banhammer placed an almost apologetic hand over his mouth and cradled his head against the chair. All he could do was grumble into his palm as a resounding click echoed through the room.

The lever was pulled down, a whirring noise filled the room and Banhammer stood back. 

Medkit froze, waiting patiently for that deadly shock.

Then, the metallic taste of death rushed into his mouth, screams unable to escape him as a million volts sparked through his system, locking his muscles still.

He choked and sputtered on pain, his vision seeming to epileptically flash on and off.

A tear dropped from his eye, or maybe it didn’t, he couldn’t feel much.

The room felt cold- No- freezing. It was like he was out in a snowstorm in the rural forests of Blackrock again.

His heart ached and pumped a last beat of adrenaline through his veins

A strangled noise left Medkit’s throat, and he could’ve sworn it was Scythe who was standing in front of him when his eye finally closed for the last time.

—------

Medkit’s eye opened to the soft chirping of pigeons on the roof of the building.

He glanced out the window. Most of the ash had cleared, the blue sky announcing it was a beautiful day.

He just groaned and rolled over in his bed. He slept through his alarm, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get up. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he might have been too scared to.

But then he thought about it.

And decided that if this gorgeous day was going to be his last, he had to do something. Anything.

Go for a walk? Talk to Sword? Banhammer? Rocket? Those weren’t really options anymore.

So, he went to work.

And made the choice that when death came for him today, he wouldn’t let it be a shock.

Instead, he’d be in awe. Awe because it would finally be over.

As Medkit pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, he looked forward, glaring intently at the mirror that faced him. The mirror stared back tiredly, his reflection looking pale, shaky and exhausted. But that wasn’t fear, it was nerves.

He glanced over his sewn eyelid for the first time in forever. It’s him. It’s really him that stared back. His real figure, his real reflection.

And only one, painfully ironic thought came to his mind.

SFOTH, I’m being awfully paranoid…

Notes:

'By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks, whoever knocks.' - Macbeth, William Shakespeare

Also Medkit stop lying and saying you're not gay. Bro's actually dreaming of getting caressed by a dude what the freak.

Chapter 10: No more Paranoia.

“Is… uhm… is Banhammer still here?”

Medkit asked, despite the fact that he didn’t know why the answer to that question was so important to him. Unfortunately, the answer to it is painfully obvious, and he probably could have assumed.

“Banhammer left for Lost Temple a while ago, It’ll still be a few hours until he gets back, I think.” Lantern explained, leaning against the doorway of Medkit’s clinic as she tapped her fingers rhythmically against her clipboard. “Why? Did you need something? I can help you until he gets back, if you’d like.”

His first instinct was to push her away, which was backed up by the knowledge that anyone near him today might end up as collateral damage. Medkit didn’t know Lantern that well, but he was fairly sure she didn’t deserve something like that. “I’m fine. Thank you, Lantern.” He muttered stoically.

But Lantern didn’t turn away, instead, she slipped through the doorway, her expression equally blank. The door was gently closed behind her as she took a seat on one of the beds, staring down at Coil’s steadily breathing form.

“I heard what Banhammer ordered the other day. If it’s any comfort, I disagree with that decision, and I doubt he really meant it.” She’d mutter, placing the back of her hand on Coil’s forehead to feel his rising fever. 

Medkit was about to question her hovering, but decided her statement was far more intriguing. “He didn’t mean it? How so?” He questioned with a scoff. Medkit wasn’t sure if talking about Banhammer was a good distraction or a horrible distraction, but it was a distraction nonetheless.

With a snorted chuckle, Lantern shook her head gently. “I was more than aware you were missing an eye, but I didn’t know the other one had gone blind!” She’d tease, almost mockingly, setting her clipboard down on her lap. “The warden clearly cares about you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have even considered your safety about taking you to a lost temple. And frankly, I’m mostly sure he would’ve swung you into the volcano on the day you arrived.”

It was a ridiculous notion. Banhammer cared for him? Yeah, right. All Banhammer did was protect him to help himself. If he cared in the slightest, he wouldn’t have condemned Medkit to death today. “If that is how he shows care, I’d prefer it if he just hated me. If that’s care , I don’t want it.”


But he did. He did want Banhammer to care. For some peculiar reason that even his mind can’t justify. He wanted Banhammer to care about him, genuinely. He wanted to not second-guess himself when it came to trusting him.

Maybe it’s so he’d feel safer, and honestly, that’s probably it. If Banhammer actually gave a damn about his safety and happiness. Maybe, Medkit would get the chance to be safe and happy. After all, Banhammer is famously, a very, very powerful ally. And possibly, an even more powerful friend.

That reasoning made perfect, logical sense, and logic was the only thing Medkit was known to follow. Even if that nuisance in his chest said otherwise.

Lantern shrugged, rolling her eyes slightly. “Either way, I’m here because I know what it’s like to think you know when you’re going to die. I know that it makes you… paranoid. Hence, I figured- since I have no other work to do -it would be beneficial if you’d have company, a… distraction , of sorts. That is, if you don’t mind?”

And suddenly, almost magically, Medkit was incredibly interested in Lantern’s personal life. “You can stay.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It wasn’t until my sister died in this very prison that I really decided who I wanted to help.” Lantern rambled. Medkit listened, because listening to another person’s woes was much more calming than listening to his own. “I wasn’t angry, per say, because in a way she did deserve it. But surely most inphernals in here wouldn’t deserve that kind of fiery fate.”

Medkit nodded his head silently and hummed in response to each thing she said. Usually he’d be begging for her to stop talking and leave him in the quiet, but today was eerily silent. And he hates the silence. It can’t be the last thing he lets himself hear.

Besides, there was still a good chance that Broker was just scaring him into coming back, and that he’d live to see the morning of tomorrow. All this paranoia, pain and running around like a headless chicken was for nothing. Maybe Medkit was fine. But on the other hand, maybe he really wasn’t.

“...That’s sort of why I’m so glad that Banland has a doctor on site now. Even if said doctor is from one of the most brutal crime-filled cults to ever be spat onto the surface of the Inpherno.” She grumbled that last part a bit, which was fair enough, Medkit supposed. The church had caused a lot of issues for Banland, and the entire Inpherno, so her distaste isn’t unjustified.

Smile, nod and occasionally make a sound of interest. Listening was easy, very easy. He just never really cared enough to listen to people he didn’t care about. Medkit adored being alone, most of the time at least.

Sword was an exception, as he is to all of Medkit’s preferences, and probably Rocket too. He really wished Sword was here right now. Lantern was fine company, but somehow he struggled with bringing himself to really care and connect with anything she said. Maybe it was the looming sense of doom on his shoulders, it kept him too distracted to focus.

“...That’s a big reason I didn’t actually end up moving to Playground. I knew that gang wouldn’t be particularly… sympathetic if one day I didn’t show up with my sister’s share of their money. And one day, I couldn’t.” 

Lantern did lead an adventurous life, an interesting one, even. He never would’ve heard it if Lantern didn’t offer to stay. But if Medkit was being honest, he could’ve lived with that ignorance.

I guess not even his paranoia could stop Medkit from being a cold, antisocial bastard. It always amazed him how Sword was able to endure his personality for so long to get as close as they were.

Another frantic knock bangs on the other side of the locked door. Medkit rolled his eye when Lantern reached for her keys. “Ignore it. Please, just ignore it.” He’d grumble, rubbing his temple to soothe the headache-inducing idea of practicing medicine in his current state out of his mind. He gave Lantern an almost vulnerable look to stop her from verbalising the protests that were already building up in her head.

“ Fine . But I always find that working takes all my cruel thoughts away by giving me a distraction. And just because you’re being paranoid, doesn’t mean that the sick and injured inphernals in this building are no longer sick and injured.” She scoffed. Usually, Medkit would agree. Burying himself in work was usually a great strategy for remaining in denial. But not today.

If this is going to be his last day, he is not practicing any medicine. Medkit’s last moments are not going to be filled with partaking in the one skill that has defined him and kept him on a tightrope above spikes for his entire lifetime. He wasn’t helping anyone but himself. Not today.

“If Banhammer isn’t holding up his end of the deal today. Neither am I. Call it a strike if that helps your moral compass agree with me.” He’d uncaringly wave his hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “This prison survived years without a doctor on site. They’ll live one day.” Except Coil, he supposed, which is why it was so good that Coil could never leave the clinic. It’s much easier to save someone’s life if you know where they are at all times.

Periodically, throughout the entire day, guards had come up and knocked on the doors of the clinic, to which Medkit never once answered. He and Lantern were the only two with keys, after all, besides, his brain was still mostly convinced that anyone entering that door would be Scythe, her smile wicked as she snatches his final breath. Medkit shivers, and rests his head against his hand.

Lantern chuckles and continues her rambling. Something more about her deceased, gang-member twin sister, or maybe growing up in the bustling streets of Thieves Den, or perhaps another story about her time working at Banland. Medkit honestly couldn’t care less about the topic.

Her warm, lively smile and surprisingly cheery demeanor did soothe his nerves a little. It surprised Medkit a little, because he was half convinced that Lantern was one of the many Banland employees that still hated his guts. It soothed him in the same way that Sword does when he runs up to him with puppy dog eyes and acts like the two of them are long-lost brothers. It’s distracting. It’s friendly. It’s pleasant.

While Lantern might be his boss, and is far from being a friend. This interaction, this… random act of friendly kindness, is a step in the direction of them becoming friends. Medkit finds that maybe- despite being antisocial, stoic and cold- he wouldn’t mind that so much.

Medkit jumps in his seat when another knock is heard on the door. There’s vague yelling, but the walls here are so dense that every room is effectively soundproof. It makes sense the guards are pissed, the prisoners are probably rioting because they can’t go to the clinic. Horrible for them, but Medkit had bigger fish to fry, especially since he might not even live long enough to bear witness to the consequences of his actions.

Lantern laughed at his flinching, snickering behind her hand as she stood up from her spot beside Coil’s bed. “I’ll go sort them out, I suppose it’s better that they scream at me than Banhammer, since he’s clearly already pissed at you.” She’d tease, stretching as she reached in her pocket for the keys.

A part of Medkit wanted to say something back, something about how odd his relationship with the warden had been lately, but he didn’t. He shouldn’t care about what Banhammer thinks of him, he shouldn’t care if he cares. It wasn’t worth bringing up. He wasn’t that desperate for conversation yet.

She stuck the key in the lock, and then patted herself up and down, like you do when you feel like you’re forgetting something. Lantern tilts her head back in thought before letting out a long sound of contemplation.

A resounding click fills the room as she snaps her fingers, remembering what it was she was going to say. She pointed at Medkit as she stared at him with a mockingly serious face, as if she was going to spout the most delicate, profound knowledge in the Inphinity.


“No more paranoia. Not until I get back.”

All Medkit did was roll his eye. As if it was that easy. If it was that easy, he would not have been suffering from increasing amounts of PTSD for the last decade of his life.

Lantern unlocked the door with a snap, and creaked it open just enough for Medkit to finish that morbid and repeating thought that had been plaguing him from the moment he woke up this morning.

What if Scythe was on the other side of that door?

There wasn’t much time to think any harder than that, as that familiar figure, shrouded and hugged by the shadows, glared into the room from the spectacle covering her one good eye.

And suddenly, Medkit was helpless. He was helpless, frozen and empty as her scythe suddenly swung down in her tense grip.

Lantern’s breath hitched, her fingertips digging into the door and the quickly relaxing as the latter end of Scythe’s gear stabbed through her stomach. Blood rushed to stain the white fabric of Lantern’s uniform, slowly spilling from the gruesome wound.

Scythe grinned, her sharp teeth on full display. Not at Lantern, Scythe didn’t glance at Lantern, but at right at Medkit as she twisted her weapon’s blade. Lantern only inhaled sharply with strain, whimpering softly as Scythe finally withdrew her scythe from her body.

Medkit didn’t even have the chance to think about closing his eye before Lantern was slumping to her side, her body weak, pathetic and limb as her head hit the wall on the way down. For a sight so horrible, sickening and somber, it was silent. No screams of agony. Not even a blaring alarm from the hall. Silence.

Blood stained the wall, floors, even Scythe’s church uniform. Although, most of that blood was there before she entered.

Lantern was silent. Still, unmoving like a statue. She wasn’t hovering, or rambling, or scrambling around to get as much done in one day as physically possible. Lantern was still, silent.

Cold, even, maybe. Her hair covered most of her expression, but her face looked… cold.

A familiar cold that wrapped around the room as Medkit met Scythe’s gaze. His heart beat a million pumps a second, but his body froze. He was a deer in headlights. She was the truck that was about to run him over. She was smiling.

Smiling cruelly as she removed her hat, pretending to be courteous as she crudely kicked Lantern’s limp legs aside. Scythe strolled into the clinic as if she was born to be here.

Her haunting, honey-tongued drawl, that accent , that accent he was so ready to never hear again. “Mornin’, ‘Kit. Awfully kind o’ ya to send good ol’ Banny away for us. Awfully convenient , huh?”

Medkit reached for his side instinctively, his mind still convinced he had his revolver there, his saving grace and best friend, placed perfectly on his hip. But Alas, he was hopeless. Medkit was alone and mortified, unable to bring himself to muster any reply to Scythe’s teasing.

“Y’know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this? How long I’ve been listenin’ to Brokes’ tellin’ me that I had to wait to come kill ya?” She’d growl, and suddenly it all felt like another bad dream.

Even as Scythe grabbed his collar, and held the blade of her scythe to his neck, Medkit hardly flinched. In his mind, this had already happened a million times over, just never so clear . And never before with… casualties .

Everything in front of him was so clear. Nothing hazy, or blurry, or distorted. He wasn’t dreaming. Scythe was here, glaring down at him like scum. But somehow, for the first time in a while…

He had no more paranoia.

Something was being shouted down at him, but Medkit would be lying if he said he was listening. It didn’t matter anyways, nothing said or done would matter. At this moment, he knew that he was already dead.

Some could say he gave up, and maybe he did. But Medkit didn’t think of it that way. It wasn’t giving up. It was…. The freeze a deer felt in its veins as the headlights approached. The tremble of a rabbit looking up into the barrel of a hunter’s shotgun.

Inevitable. Fate. Fate would never pick his side forever.

It’s not that it wasn’t scary. It was the fact that it felt like there was nowhere else to go. It feels as if there is nowhere else you should go. Because in that moment at the edge of life, that’s where you’re meant to be. It's simply right . And maybe, in death, you will belong.

In a moment just seconds away, death would embrace him like the shrieking cold of his home faction. Maybe Lantern would be there, maybe she’d be angry. Maybe not. Maybe Lantern was going to wherever the good place was. Medkit wasn’t going there, he thought. He wouldn’t belong there. He wouldn’t make it there.

Maybe he’d have a family in his next life. Maybe he’d be loved. Maybe he could be simple. Maybe his biggest issues would be taxes and friendships and laundry and trying to find a parking space within less than a kilometre away from the event you paid 3 paychecks to attend.

A strange sense of peace swirled with his fear. Peace, because like a rabbit, hiding in its burrow from wolves, Medkit felt safer with his back to the wall. And like a rabbit, he had always been destined to be mauled and maimed by something higher and stronger. 

He could feel freezing under his skin. He was prey, and there was nothing he could pray to. Nothing that would listen. Not to him. Not to someone like him.

This was awe. Awe in its greatest form. The clarity of death . The edge, the void, that slips closer with each chilling tick of seconds on the clock.

It almost feels blurry as Scythe kicks in his knees and throws him to the floor, her expression angrier and crueler than Medkit had ever seen before. Not blurry in the way he can convince himself he’s dreaming, blurry in the way that he’s tired. Medkit’s exhausted. Maybe he has been for a while.

The part of this that made everything feel better was that, in a brief moment, Medkit would finally be able to rest. Rest and be free from paranoia, nightmares and his past.

Finally, Medkit could get a good night's sleep.

Scythe threw him to the ground with all her might, standing over his pathetic, empty form with a wicked expression. Her scythe danced across his jugular. “I took you in, ‘Kit. I saved ya from Blackrock, gave ya a second chance at life. I never even made you directly kill anyone! This is how ya decide to repay me? Repay us?!”

The growing pool of blood on the floor from Lantern’s direction stained Medkit’s hair as he lay on his back, heart still racing in his chest. He was afraid. But in a morbid, almost pathetically suicidal way, he was excited too. Excited for the thrill of finally leaving his shitty life that never spared him a single moment of peace before violently throwing him right back into the fray.

His lack of response or reaction turned her anger into rage.“The family loved ya! I loved ya! Ya were my brother ! You were graced with the opportunity to be a brother in our everlastin’ family, and ya threw that away. All we needed was a few gadgets n’ gizmos, a few measly upgrades for our gear, and that was so disgusting that ya decided to run to our GREATEST ENEMY?! ”

Scythe laughed. A dry, humorless, cruel laugh as she hunched over to dig her fingertips into Medkit’s chin and force him to look at her. “It is such a horrible shame that we still need ya alive…”

Whatever grim sense of peace was glueing the fragile fragments of Medkit’s soul together dissolved within a fraction of a sentence, his heart dropping down into his stomach. Of course, how could he forget? Medkit was useful. He was so useful and that’s why people kept him around.

A gruesomely triumphant expression framed Scythe’s face, her smile lines deepening as she witnessed Medkit’s dread and paranoia finally set in again. Her fingers drag themselves down from Medkit’s chin, tracing over his throat to settle harshly on his neck. “Ya look tired, ‘Kit. Why don’t ya get some rest…?” She’d mock.

“S-shit!” Medkit uttered his first word in this entire altercation, before falling into gasps for air. Part of him wished she would just kill him, but he had a feeling that was a mercy she didn’t think he deserved. Maybe he didn’t.

Her hands squeezed Medkit’s neck tight enough to cut off his airways. She reeled in how Medkit both tensed and trembled under her grip. “Lucky you, huh? Seems the universe favours yer survival. Real fuckin’ annoyin’, if I’m bein’ honest here…” Scythe spat.

 

This sudden burst of energy rushed through Medkit’s veins, his dread transforming from depressive acceptance of his fate into an adrenaline-induced last stand. His limbs struggled under Scythe’s grip, kicking and swatting at whatever he could reach. He sputtered as he desperately tried to get even just one more breath.

Scythe hardly flinched, maybe just scoffed and put more of her weight against him. “There ya are, ‘Kit, that’s the doctor I know. Always runnin’, always fightin’ against yer abysmal odds. Fightin’ like you have anything worth fightin’ for.” She’d spit, her tone mocking as she watched Medkit’s flailing slowly start to slow to a halt.

A ringing noise pierced Medkit’s ears as his vision began to get all white and fuzzy. He couldn’t feel the harsh flooring beneath him anymore. He couldn’t feel the warm pool of Lantern’s blood against his skin anymore. It was all blurry and fuzzy, like he was dreaming. He wished he was dreaming.

“Sometimes,” Scythe began, her voice slowly fading out as Medkit began to slip out of consciousness. “I can’t tell whether y’know yer place in this world. As a rabbit . Yer nothing but food for the wolves, no matter which pack ends up being the one to get to ya first.”

Medkit felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, his body limp against the ground.

He could’ve sworn he felt a wisp of wind blow coldly against his skin, sending a faint shiver down his spine.

He was cold. So cold.

He took a final, maybe pitying, maybe guilty, glance at Lantern's lifeless form.

And then it all went black.

Notes:

For those who read that title, and thought maybe you'd reached the 'comfort' part of hurt/comfort. I'd like to formally apologise. Ukulele and all.

Also, I'm not going to be posting for a while because I just had exams, so I'm very far behind on the chapters I've written. Have fun with this cliffhanger gang, I'll see you in like 3 or 4 weeks or so maybe. (I'll be cooking, trust.)