Chapter Text
The setting sun cast beams of orange light through the window in the workshop. Medkit might’ve thought they were beautiful if they weren’t blinding him while he was trying to work.
Medkit had to make do with the crappy tools that were in the workshop, meaning that his welding would never be as perfect as it could be. As perfect as his work would have been if he was still at Blackrock.
He seriously needs to find a way to stop relating every detail of his existence back to that place. That was the past. He lives a completely different life now. What happened back then doesn’t matter anymore.
His time in the comfort of silence was soon ripped from him as the door to the workshop swung open, causing him to slightly finch.
“Someone’s hard at work. Ya do know they’re servin’ dinner right now, right?” Scythe leans against the doorframe, her expression almost one of pity. If Medkit didn’t know any better, he’d think she’s actually concerned about his health.
At Scythe’s question, however, Medkit can only shrug his shoulders. He’s currently hunched over, inspecting the base frame work of the prosthetic. He doesn’t even need to eat, so why else would he go? To socialize ? With members of the church ? Why on the Inpherno would he want to do that?
Scythe however is not so pleased by this lack of answer, the clink of the spurs on her boots against the creaking floorboards echoes as she strides over. “C’mon, ‘Kit, not even a bite?” She’d come to a halt, standing behind Medkit and watching him work over his shoulder.
“I suppose I’m just not hungry, Scythe.” He finally gave an answer, biting the inside of his cheek to try and keep his focus. The looming of Scythe's imposing presence behind him made a chill run down his spine.
A click of Scythe's tongue was heard before she placed her non-prosthetic hand on Medkit’s shoulder as she leaned her body against his. “Isn’t that so, aye? I swear ya used t’be so much more… obedient, ‘Kit.” She scoffed and chuckled at her own words, hitting Medkit’s shoulder with a thump. Ow.
“Not my damn problem if yer gonna eat or not. Jus’ don’t starve to death for me, would ya?” She throws her hands in the air for a split second before putting both her hands on his shoulders, her grip tightening. It’s like she knows how much he hates people touching him and his purposefully mocking him.
“...” Medkit hesitates, opening his mouth to scowl at her, tell her to get off of him and mind her own business. Snap at her and scream all his ever silent opinions on this whole church at her. But he doesn’t, of course, he doesn’t have a death wish.
All he wants to do is live to see the next morning. Pissing off Scythe, the serial killer and cult leader, may not be the most strategic way to accomplish that task. Still, the way her fingers dug into his skin made him shiver, it felt like his skin was rotting under her touch.
Medkit sighed, looking over his shoulder to see Scythe smirking at him. This is it, he can’t focus with Scythe
lurking
around and on him like this. It irks him too much to continue to ignore. He steadies himself, bracing for his own words.
“Could you... maybe… not ?” Wow. Great job, Medkit, that’s really convincing, huh?
Scythe raised an eyebrow and stood up straight, lifting her hands in the air as if to surrender. Her prosthetic arm clicks when she moves her wrist. “Yeah, yeah, alright, I’ll quit botherin’ ya. Jus’ tell me when my damn arm’s done, Y’know I got not patience.”
She backed off. Without argument too. Would it have been that easy this whole time? Scythe turned on her heel, raising her arm in the air as a dramatic goodbye before rattling the golden door handle as she slammed it behind her.
The quiet washing over the room again nearly brought Medkit to drown in his thoughts. Nearly. He had to get back on task and get this finished, he had work to do. He had work to do before someone else came and bothered him to get into bed.
What was the time anyways…? It felt like he’d been in this dusty, rugged room his whole life at this point.
With a sigh he instinctively brought his hand to his suit pocket to check his pocket watch. Oh right, he threw it in the garbage. And then when he tried to sleep that night, the constant tick tock, tick tock from the bin bothered him so much that he very meticulously tore it apart.
He sighs, lifting the pile of wires and organising them so he could start with the wiring. He should stop lingering, he has work that needs to be done. Still… his mind drifts, as it always does, into rambles.
That watch had been with him for as long as he could remember, thrown at him by his trainer during his internship at Blackrock after he was thirty seconds late because he had lost his left shoe. He ended up hopping there, one shoed with a cold sweat of terror running down his face.
He kept his quarters very particularly organised after that.
Blackrock wasn’t a considerate place, he was lucky he got away with a bruised forehead, scolding and free pocket watch. It was one of the free ones Blackrock manufactured for its workers to be on time anyways, although that was the period when they started switching from pocket watches to actual wrist watches.
It would count as an antique then… yes? In which case he probably should have sold it. Whatever. Too late. His safety in the church wasn’t worth the extra 50 bux anyways.
He’s snapped from his thoughts as a spark from one of the wires nearly rises to burn his cheek. Focus. Medkit used to be so good at remaining focused, look at him now. He can barely keep his train of thought straight, let alone the horrible rambles when he speaks.
What in the Inpherno was wrong with him…
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What’s this?” A voice chimes from behind Medkit, making him jump and nearly drop the newly-finished prosthetic arm onto the ground. It wouldn’t have broken, but Medkit would rather die than give Scythe anything with scratches or dents on it.
His head swivels around, locking his eye on who it seems has been shadowing him. Of course, the Broker. “I-It’s for Scythe.” Medkit stutters, covering up his freight with a cough as he adjusts one of the buttons on his uniform.
“Oooooh, a gift for the boss? Still trying to win brownie points, huh?” The Broker teases, grinning and quite suddenly lifting the metal out of Medkit’s arms, inspecting it. “Not bad work, not bad… certainly better than her old one.”
Instinctively, Medkit reaches out to take it back, but he knows that any attempt would end up futile, or just escalate Broker’s theatrics. Guess he’ll just have to pray that he doesn’t drop it or something. “Well, it was my assignment to make it, so not really a gift, per say.”
The Broker only grinned, walking backwards until he tripped over his feet and had to catch himself on Scythe’s desk. Medkit flinched, reaching his arms out to catch the prosthetic, even though the Broker hadn’t even dropped it.
“You’re so
jumpy
, Doc. Loosen up a little, yeah?” The Broker mocked, practically skipping his way around Scythe’s desk to take a seat in her chair. Medkit wasn’t sure if the Broker and Scythe were really that close, or if he just had a death wish.
Medkit’s eyebrows furrowed, giving him a glare. “I spent weeks making that. Don’t you dare break it.” He mumbled, the scowl on his face seeming to get more and more sour as he spent more time being pestered by this idiot.
Scythe’s office was lavish, each piece of furniture was made of wood and carefully detailed with real gold. The bookshelves lining the room held religious texts and atlas’, the wall of books occasionally breaking to be stuffed with miscellaneous files and papers. The room smelt sterile, like a mix of chemicals and metal. The stench was disgustingly nostalgic.
Medkit cleared his throat, his eyes gazing down at the long, teal and gold carpet that ran up the room, all the way from the doorway to her chair. He bit the inside of his cheek, noticing the faint bloodstains lingering on the carpet in front of her desk.
Medkit is ripped from his observations as that irritating voice speaks up again, still in the same joyful, sing-song tone, “We’re not stupid, you know. We can tell that you don’t really care about our deity, nor that you care about the family.”
Of course he doesn’t care, what reason would he have to care? This is his job, his work, he works here and tolerates the church because it might be the only place in the entire inpherno where he’s not going to be constantly running for his life.
Medkit raised his head to look at where Broker sat in Scythe’s seat, but the extravagant window at the back of the room blinded him with the gloriousness of the setting sun.
Broker poked and prodded at the prosthetic as he continued his speech, clenching and unfurling each of the metal fingers as he rested his head against the table, nearly knocking over a pile of papers with his navy blue horns. “And if you don't care about us, I don’t see why we should give a damn what happens to you…”
He left the last part of his sentence open to interpretation. “You’re lucky that you're useful… and that the boss seems to like you… because otherwize, you might be more useful as Blackrock’s bounty money.” Broker giggled, Medkit going slightly pale in the face at even the
idea
of being given back to Blackrock.
“But! Surely there’s no need to do that! Right?” Broker chimed in, a grin on his face as the stitches all over his skin stretched with his expression. It was deeply disturbing to the eye. “You’d never go against us, so there's no need for drastic measures!”
Medkit simply avoided eye contact, keeping his eye glued to an old, ripped tapestry that was hung over the wall. “Right…” He sternly replied, his nose scrunching as he took in the weight of the Broker’s words.
It was ridiculous to Medkit, The Broker was making sure he knew his place, when he very clearly did know his place. Never once had Medkit ever dared to deny Scythe’s or the church’s requests, he’d very rarely deny them anything at all.
He’s just distancing himself from the creepy religious part of the church. Could he really be blamed for doing that?
“Maybe next time you try to talk to me, come with useful information rather than unsolicited warnings meant to terrorize me. I can assure you I have no intention of abandoning the church.” Medkit spoke calmly, placing a mask of stoic expression over his thoughts.
The Broker smiled at him, scoffed and then shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in Scythe’s chair. “Of course! Of course, dear doctor, what could have possibly made you think I thought otherwise?” He politely folded his hands in his lap as if he was taking any of this seriously.
Medkit took one last glance at the prosthetic, now placed neatly on Scythe’s desk and then one glance at the uncanny grin on Broker’s face. “Just… tell Scythe that I left it in her office when you see her next…” He sighed, turning his back to the Broker and heading out the door.
He had better things to do than entertain the Broker’s nonsense.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The lost temple was quiet at night. Cold, too. Maybe that’s why he was sent on this assignment. To avoid another heatstroke incident.
His assignment was to deliver a box. A box of what? Likely weapons or harvested gear. Not his job to care, anyways.
His dress shoes trudged in the sand, his eye carefully watching how it glittered in the moonlight. There were so many stars in the sky… that was one thing he liked about the lost temple.
In Blackrock, he was constantly indoors but even outdoors, the sky was obscured by clouds or snow or smog. Not here, though. Here, the delicate dunes seemed to dance with the stars, mixing together until you can’t tell where the horizon is.
“Meddy!” A voice suddenly called from behind him. That nickname gave him whiplash, his heart dropping as he swivelled his entire body to whoever was following him, his expression pale.
It was Sword. Medkit gave an audible sigh of both relief and annoyance.
Sword eventually caught up, now walking beside Medkit with a grin on his face. “Hey! I’m meant to be studying with Rocket… but if my dad asks, I’ll just say it’s work experience.” Sword smirks, lifting the box out of Medkit’s arms and carrying it on his shoulder like it weight hardly anything.
“I don’t think you should be wandering around this late. Go home, kid.” Medkit advised, snatching the box back from Sword’s grip and carrying it himself. “And don’t call me that, I don’t do nicknames.” His tone was sharper than he meant it to be.
Sword pouted at the box being forcibly returned and then huffs at Medkit’s disapproval of the nickname he had come up with. “It’s just a nickname, don’t be so uptight…” He complained, slouching his back as he placed his hands in his pockets as he blatantly ignored Medkit’s advice..
Medkit can’t help but chuckle. Him. Being anything less than uptight? “You have met me before, right? Were you expecting me to love nicknames?” Crickets chirp somewhere in the close distance, the faction completely silent while under the hold of night.
Sword muttered a reply under his breath, but Medkit didn’t catch it. “Why do I always seem to run into you? It’s like everywhere I go you have a convenient reason to also be there.” Medkit questioned, and Sword merely shrugged.
“I’m assuming that it’s just because we live close. But wouldn’t it be cool if it was the universe telling us that we like… needed…to be friends?…. Or something…?” Sword gave the reply, raising his hands in the air dramatically to emphasize his nonsense about fate and the universe and yada yada.
Medkit raised an eyebrow at Sword’s words, snorting at how Sword placed his hand over his heart like he had just said the most profound thing ever. “Such nonsense…” He replied, lightly hitting Sword on the shoulder.
A gasp of surprise left Sword at Medkit’s reply, his body stopping in its tracks to stare at him. “What! I thought that was good! It took me soooo long to think of that…” He whined, running to keep up with Medkit, who didn’t stop to entertain his sulking..
“Was that you trying to have a profound thought? Next time, I fear you might need to think a bit harder.” Medkit chuckled, seemingly not remembering to suppress the grin that was starting to form on his face.
Sword pouted, but couldn’t help copying Medkit’s laughter, his joy outshining his discontent. “You’re such a bully, ‘Kit.” He moped, chuckling through his forced frown as he attempted to use a different nickname.
Medkit’s grin dropped almost instantly. He knew Sword was just a kid, but he feared he would lose his temper if he kept pushing the whole ‘nicknames’ thing onto him. He knew himself well, his own temper being something that has been engraved into mind to be weary of.
“Sword, cut it out with the bloody nicknames. Just call me Medkit, just say my name.” He complained. Medkit adjusted the way he was holding the box before turning his head to Sword and adding on, “And go home, don’t you have school in the morning? Or something?”
Sword rolled his eyes, smacking his lips in thought. “You’re so annoying when you sound like my dad… and It’s Friday so I do
not
have school in the morning, thank you.” He promptly ignored Medkit’s advice to go home once again and continued to follow him around.
Oh deities, this kid was something else.
“And what’s your problem with nicknames?! Like… please? You said the other day that I’m like an annoying little brother, so I have to have a nickname for you! That’s like… how siblings work!” Sword laughed, clasping his hands together as if he was begging.
Medkit scoffed at Sword’s reasoning, chuckling softly as he tried to think of the answer to Sword’s question. What is the issue with the names themselves? Or was it the way they were said to him? Or even, who said them to him?
“I just… I’m not a fan of how demeaning they are. What’s the point of even having a name if it’s going to constantly be reduced to childish shortenings? Medkit eventually replied, tilting his head to the side slightly and shrugging his shoulders to try and emphasize his point.
Sword bit his lip softly, trying to think of an answer before softly replying. “I dunno… for fun? To y’know, prove that you and the other person have a close connection? Something like that.”
Medkit’s eye drifted to the side as he thought about Sword’s reply, only for a brief moment before scoffing. What a ridiculous thought.
“Will you go home if I let you call me a nickname?” He offered with a raise of his eyebrow. He really didn’t want to get in trouble with Sword’s father, which meant that his stupid kid had to go home and stop trailing around him.
“Yes! I will, I promise. I’ll go home and stay home for the rest of the night!”
“... fine. But nothing silly, okay? I also have to agree to it.”
“Sounds fair to me! So, um, how about…. Uhhh… ‘Kit?”
“No.”
“Meddy?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Uhh… Doc? Doc, y’know, ‘cause you're a healer and all that.”
“Nope. I thought you were picking a nickname because you see me as a brother? Don’t name me after my profession, that’s stupid.”
“Oh my SFOTHs, fine, but you’re being so picky. It’s really hard work coming up with these!”
“... is it?”
“...”
“...”
“What about ‘Med’, does that suit your professional tastes?”
“I think you're getting warmer.”
“You’re being really annoying… How about ‘Meds?’ Meds with an ‘s’, plural. Meds as in a multitude of medications.”
Medkit snorted and giggled, covering his now smirking face with one of his gloved hands “... good enough.” He spoke, feigning his stoic tone. It was amusing to tease Sword like this.
Sword also started laughing, finding Medkit’s amusement infectious as he gently jabbed Medkit in the side. Sword’s grin widened, waving his hand in Medkit’s direction. “In that case, hey, Meds.”
“Hello, Sword.” The older demon played along, before gently kicking Sword in the ankle. “Now hurry your ass and go home already. Do you have any idea how late it is?”
Sword raised in his hands in mock surrender, pouting and letting out a dramatic sigh. “Jeez, I’m going! I’m going!” He slowly began to turn around, walking back in what Medkit could only assume was the direction of his home, before he gasped, as if suddenly remembering something and turned back to Medkit.
“W-waitwaitwait! Just quickly, before I go, you know about the festival tomorrow, right?” Sword rushed back over to Medkit and grabbed him by the shoulders. Medkit let out a loud groan of annoyance and struggled Sword’s hands off.
“No?” Medkit questioned, placing the box down at his feet so that he could cross his arms across his chest to better display his annoyance.
Sword’s eyebrows furrowed in an expression that only said ‘really?!’ as he looked into Medkit’s expression. “Well there is, It’s a big annual holiday thing in Lost Temple, I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. The thing is, I really want to go but dad’s busy and Rocket’s working at his dad’s shop this weekend.”
Medkit knew where this was going. “Just go by yourself? You’re like what, 16?” He scoffed, opening his mouth to say more but Sword cut him off.
“Please! It’s boring when you go alone! I need somebody to hang out with. And it’s only for like a couple hours during midday!” Sword begged, clasping his hands together once more as he stood in front of Medkit. “Besides, It’ll be fun! It’s a holiday, Meds, Joy is in the air!”
Medkit scoffed. “Midday!? That’s not joy in the air, that’s bloody heatstroke ! Do you remember the last time I went for a stroll during the lovely midday, summer heat of Lost Temple?”
With his hands pressed together like this, Sword screwed his eyes shut, as if he was praying. Medkit sighed. Maybe he needed a break. He already completed his main assignment… surely the church wouldn’t mind. Still… he has work to do.
A groan echoed out of Medkit’s mouth as he rubbed his temples. “Fine. I’ll be there, but I might be late because I’ll have work to do.” Swords face lit up, the teen demon now looking like he was about to start jumping for joy.
“Thankyouthankyothankyou, Meds! Meet me at the plaza at 12:30!” Sword exclaimed as his grin grew wider. He opened his arms instinctively to give Medkit a hug, but that slight twitch in Medkit’s eyelid made him pause just sort of stand there awkwardly in front of him.
“Go home, Sword!” Medkit scolded with a scowl, pointing to the direction that Sword walked off in before.
“YEP! I KNOW! I’M GOING! SEE YOU, BYEEE!” Sword’s grinning face smiled and waved as he turned on his heels and started sprinting back home. But with the almost whimsical expression on his face, you probably could have convinced Medkit that he was skipping home.
Medkit chuckled as Sword ran off, lifting the box back into his arms as he turned to continue walking to where he was going to drop off the delivery, which was actually very close now.
What an interesting kid… although he wished Sword wouldn’t follow him around like that again. The last thing he would want is for Sword to end up around the wrong kind of people. People who work with the church…
Medkit pushed the thought out of his mind. He needs to focus, he has work to do.