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Subspace sat at his desk, his head in his hands as he struggled to form thoughts. A steady throb ran through his head as he tried to focus on the crystals in front of him. His eyepatch had been long discarded to the side. It irritated the rot far more than it was intended to. His clawed hand reached up to paw at the pink flesh before he hissed in pain when there was a slightest touch of it. The pain solution he had received from Vinestaff was no help to ease this problem. He had made sure to pay her properly for it.
…
He let her live, for one thing.
He had been like this for a while, unable to focus on anything except the itchy feel of his own skin. No matter what he did, the feel of the disease only spread further on his body.
Tears pricked in his eyes as he tried to scrape off the rotten flesh. He didn’t care at this point, he just wanted the itch to stop. He needed it gone.
His own inventions caused this and he felt sick every time the thought came to him.
If he could do it, he’d tear his own skin off. For both the relief and the pain it would being him.
What’s stopping him?
Subspace groaned of agony once more, his claws digging into the wood of the desk once he finished his assault on his own being. He began to hyperventilate, his pupils shrinking as the pain grew. It felt like a deity itself was holding him in strings. Making sure he wouldn’t die. Not yet.
Hot tears spilled from his eye, his flesh tainted red with the blood that was coaxed out by his claws. It dripped onto the pink crystals shimmering on his desk, dimming the light that had previously lit the room. It was like the glow was teasing him.
”I have no constraints. I can go wherever I shall please. I have no burdens holding me down.”
The thought alone enraged him as he slammed his hand onto a crystal, crushing it to dust.
Pieces of it intruded into his hand, the pink contrasting the white of his skin.
He savored the feel of the shards. It was what he deserved.
No.
No…
He deserved to rule Blackrock. Hell, rule Crossroads.
Then he’d show everyone. He isn’t just some puny, deranged phighter. He was someone to fear.
Someone to want dead.
Someone to want mutilated.
To be hated is to be loved. They hate you so much that they have no choice but to give you all the attention. He would consume their very thoughts like the rot that consumed him.
Just like he had done with Medkit.
At least, he thought so. He had tried to get into Medkit’s mind. Constantly teasing and mocking him for his failures, constantly one-upping him (Yet, somehow the latter was always able to bounce back with some new ridiculous gear. He had heard of the teal man making Scythe her own arm? He never did that for him.)
Bitter jealousy—no—envy raced through his thoughts leaving him to only think of how he didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone. He would show them. He would show them ALL that he was the true horror to be feared.
Like his rot.
A giggle slipped from his lips before it erupted into laughter, the hoarseness of it echoing in the chamber.
“Mrrrow?”
He withdrew a new crystal, knowing that shards in his hand would do no good.
"Who?" He murmurs, stepping to the door. He opened it, his eyes flicking up and left and right before finally settling onto the black cat on the ground. He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Hyperlaser didn't feed you? Again?"
"Mow?"
Subspace chuckled, his rotted hand moving to pick up a glove. He slips it on, the length of it stretching up to his elbow. He then takes the cat into his arms, making sure to avoid the blue horns on the side of it.
"You like the chicken, right?" A hiss. "Hehe.
“Tuna." A purr of approval.
Subspace brings the small animal over to an area near his bookshelves. Blue foodbowls awaited him as he set Princess down. He reached for the bag of catfood, pouring some of the dry kibble into the bowl. He then takes a can from the shelves, scooping out half of the contents into the dish and stirring them.
The blue shone against the bright pink crystal that was still embedded into his skin and he admired the look of it for a moment.
The tips of the cat’s black shone in the neon light, reflecting the hot pink that had so often consumed his vision.
He places the mixture of food in front of the cat, a purr of pleasure slipping from the cat’s throat before it digs in. Subspace squats next to it.
”Good girl,” He hummed, his clean hand moving to run against the soft fur. He stroked behind her ears, watching her eat.
The cat had scarfed down the food in no time and it began to rub against Subspace’s hand, chirping and meowing.
Subspace giggled, standing and walking over to the couch in the far corner of the room. His eyes wandered to his still-messy desk, but he returned his mind to focus on the small cat that was trailing him.
“Here, kitty.” He hummed as he sat onto the black sofa. He had made sure to make it black so the cat fur wouldn’t be visible… and the soot that came from his lab coat wouldn’t be too much of a problem.
He laid back, resting his head against the armrest with a groan. Princess hastily jumped up, curling onto the latter’s chest.
The sound of the purring nearly sent him to sleep. It was so relaxing to hear. It drowned out his own thoughts.
“Maybe,” He began gently, his eyes drooping. “Just a wink…”
-
He slept for the first time in a while.