Blackrock went to hell, it for sure wasn't getting better. Subspace and Medkit nearly killed eachother, leading to the latter's escape. Subspace went crazy—crazier than before, and Medkit was considered a filthy traitor by the whole faction. He was one of your best friends, so it hurt every time you heard the whispers. You tried your very best to bare through it a few more years, but you couldn't take it. You left, just as Medkit did.

Whatever faction you chose instead of Blackrock wouldn't be too bad. It was difficult having all of Blackrock and the warden after you wanting your head on a stick, but aside from that, you managed. Food was..usually, on the table, and the bills were paid with little struggle.

It wasn't fun living alone with the guilt of what you left behind. It was hard to have quiet time to yourself as your thoughts were often cruel to you. When you saw the advertisements for Phighting, you decided it would be no harm to participate and focus your mind on something other than self pity. Being the new demon, nearly everyone targeted you, and by the end you were beaten and bloodied to the point you could barley see straight. It was nothing major, as you'd be healed by the medic..whoever that was.

Back at the lobby, you noticed a weirdly farmiliar medkit laying against a staircase, deep blue green with gold accents. You pushed past it, recognizing a figure with a similar color scheme. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together that this was the medic. He was talking to someone, but you were a little too hazy to mind your manners, grabbing his shoulder.

"Excuse me–?"

You watched as the, seemingly offended medic turned around to face you, but an expression of shock on his face as he saw your own. It was Medkit—! He thought Blackrock had killed you off long ago, but to be here, at a phight with him? He lost his voice, feeling a million emotions overcome him as you were the only thing he could focus on.