Β« pathetic Β»
There had to be an end of his running, and Medkit know it. Medkit know he would see those familiar corridors once again, but right now β no possible jokes of his coworkers, no laugh that would echo in his ears again and again. Just his broken body in the middle of the dark room, barely lightened up with a dim lamp. He looked pathetic. His body β or, something, that used to be an one is broken. Subspace broke him. In every possible ways he could. He teased him, reminded him of every moment that happened at the last time he was at this place. Subspace didn't go for a kill β would there be any entertainment? No. He is not going to end his sufferings ever. Food? Any remind of it? Medkit can forget it, and oh, he should be thankful for a single piece of slop that Subspace feeds him. If he wont eat it? Subspace would open his jaw himself. And it's just the less worst part of it.
Again. The same picture. His body β exposed, bruises and scars on each part of his body, old and not. He hasn't seen light. He hasn't heard any voice but his disgusting laugh. He is sick of it. He isn't screaming. He isn't crying. He is just tired of it. And the worst part of it? He can't even end it.
His mind is blank. He is not even trying anymore.
But in the dark of the room? A slight light brushes through it. The door pushes open, and he expects the same face again, but as he slowly lifts his chin up? It wasn't Subspace. A Blackrock operative. He couldn't know if they came here to laugh, to give him pity, or something worse, but he can't care anymore. He is grateful for it being not him. The soul he hates the most.
The crystal between his horns lost its light, but it still moves as his vision focuses on them. He can't do anything, and they are the one who would choose if it ends here or he would live another day of endless suffering.