Subspace was dying.
There was nothing else to it.
He couldn’t save himself. For all his knowledge & research in robotics & biology, he had no cure whatsoever for the Rot consuming his body.
He couldn’t do anything, so he didn’t.
He carried on through every day, all day, pretending as if everything was normal, donning his gas mask & suit & carrying on with his life & research.
Subspace was proud of all he’d accomplished during his time at Blackrock. The Biograft robots, his mercenaries… well, mercenary, as all the others had either retired with the incident or had died on missions. That wasn’t much of a bother, however, as Blackrock now had the invention of Biograft robots to replace them as footsoldiers.
Only one human mercenary was left, & that was Hyperlaser.
Hyperlaser had suffered a massive accident a few years ago, where he’d been trapped inside a malfunctioning containment facility within Blackrock & was stuck there as the fire within the containment unit swallowed him whole. He’d managed to survive through a miracle, & Subspace had made the mercenary a special suit of armour—including a specialised helmet that allowed the otherwise blind man to see—optimised to not disturb his many burn scars.
Subspace liked Hyperlaser.
On the surface level, that was expected. Hyperlaser was one of Subspace’s most loyal mercenaries, & always had been—even before the invention of Biografts, Hyperlaser had always been by Subspace’s side, taking on orders & missions without much of a word spoken or any complaint.
Hyperlaser didn’t talk much.
Subspace was the complete opposite.
He often yammered away to no end, while Hyperlaser just sat still & nodded. Subspace had been inviting Hyperlaser a lot more often over to his office to just talk to the guy—not about missions, scarcely about that, but more about… life. General things, like Hyperlaser’s cat, his recent acquaintance with Katana, all the casual things. Never did Subspace breathe a word about Medkit, the man he hated most & often dissed the most often, or even… words about himself. He was a very egotistical guy, he usually did go on & on about himself & his achievements to others—primarily other scientists & workers—yet to Hyperlaser?
All he wanted to know about was him.
Hyperlaser wasn’t one for friends, or any relationships at all, really.
So, he didn’t quite notice.
Didn’t quite notice the faint glimmer in Subspace’s eye every time he saw the mercenary, didn’t notice how Subspace’s voice grew just the faintest bit softer to prevent making the mercenary flinch from loud noises—which Subspace knew that Hyperlaser hated, due to his status as his boss.
“You’re dying, Subspace.”
The words hit him a bit harder whenever a doctor told him that. Subspace always put on the guise that he didn’t care, that he was taking medication or whatever to help prevent the Rot, but he didn’t do such things at all. No medication would help, he knew, & nothing ever would.
He would just decay.
He knew his time was coming. He felt his Rotten arm spasm out of his control almost every day now, & he couldn’t hold things properly. He couldn’t taste anything at all, & his jaw would be completely slack if it weren’t for his mask holding it up. The Rot must’ve extended to his organs, as he found it harder & harder to breathe the more he stood & moved about.
One afternoon, he called for Hyperlaser to come to his office. He didn’t specify why; just said over the radio,
“Hyperlaser… report to my office. I need you.”
By the time Hyperlaser showed up to Subspace’s office, the scientist was sat in his chair, breathing quietly through his mask with his head tilted back. His eyes were shut, his form completely sunk into the chair…
He opened an eye when Hyperlaser appeared through the doorway.
He lifted a hand, waving the mercenary in with groggy motions. He did his best to sit up properly for a respectable position, but winced as he did so.
“Hyperlaser… come, come. Take a seat. Sit with me.”