Chapter Text
Taph scowled at the grid-patterned floor in the locker room, scrubbed by an antiseptic that made their eyes burn.
Urbanshade had offered to take off their death sentence within the hour that they’d been sentenced to death.
All they had to do was sign that paper with that strange symbol that looked ominously like an eye.
-
The operation was fishy.
For the past hour they’d observed crowds of fellow convicts go into submarines that dove far below the surface, submarines resurfacing only moments after without the people inside.
Now it was their turn- after what felt like eons of waiting, they were shuffled into this locker room to get in line for their briefing.
They'd still gotten to keep their hood and bandana, but were forced into a jumpsuit that was more of a slate gray than the navy blue as intended. (In fact, the color was moreso closer to the distinguished color of wet concrete.)
How’d they come this far from their (very) lofty job in Roblox HQ to a wanted terrorist is something that even they don’t know.
(Actually, they did know, but it wasn’t their fault! They didn’t mean to kill them!)
After the protests against demolitionists started, they’d knew the protesters were coming for them- so they’d (like a very reasonable person) set up mines, bombs, traps, wires, and other stuff around their house, preparing for a seige. (Which there wasn’t until a month after.)
There was no sense in not being a little paranoid- besides, they’d had a whole stash of food that could last them around a month.
.
Needless to say, that month had gone by quickly.
Driven by hunger, they had somehow managed to sneak out of the house using a back entrance, but was immediately caught red-handed when digging around in a rusty green dumpster for scraps.
That hadn't gone over very well.
"Calling EXR-P 6000."
The guard next to them prodded them forward with the barrel of their rifle, an uncomfortable jab against their back as the guardsman’s visor shone menacingly against the sterile light of the locker room.
Taph shuffled forward, black-and-gold headwings fluttering nervously as they approached the door leading to their briefing.
If only Builderman was here, maybe they wouldn't have signed up for a shady company like Urbanshade. What did happen to him, Taph wonders...
It's only been a year since he's disappeared, that's for sure.
-
"Your crimes are irrelevant.
Whether you were falsely charged or not is irrelevant.
All we ask of you at Urbanshade is to make it out of the Blacksite with Z-2.
If you make it out alive, you are pardoned and released.
From here on out, you are no longer your old self anymore.
Now on out, you are an EXPENDABLE.
Do you understand, fugitive?"
A nod.
The guard sighed, a grating sound against the silence of the dock located deep in a cavern, the poor illumination showing pallets, waiting chairs, and most importantly, the submarines.
The place kind of looked like an airport if Taph were to be honest, especially with the chairs that resembled the ones that you used when waiting for your plane to arrive.
Except this airport was shipping people to their premature deaths.
Taph would've laughed at the irony, but right now they felt more scared than ever. Specifically speaking, how they'd probably die down there.
"You only signed up for it, after all."
"Look, everyone's left without you. I'll wager that standing still isn't going to do you any favors either- considering your condition."
"You should probably head out on your own. After all, everyone here is just looking for a faster way to die."
The guard sighed, looking out at the lovely view of the submarines.
Taph crossed their arms, anxiety quickly turning into irritation.
(Weren't these guys supposed to stay silent?)
"Do you remember your briefing?"
The guard barreled on without a response, explaining the crystal, getting into a submarine, yada yada yada, all of that nice stuff.
———
Taph didn't do this often, but they wished this guy would shut up. At least the other guards were silent, but this one seemed to be quite the chatterbox.
(Telamon, their voice sounded worse than that one video of Shedletsky singing in the shower that a coworker of theirs sent over- not that they could remember their name or anything, they'd quit the job abruptly last year, due to 'health issues'.)
That was strange, that coworker seemed to love being a demolitionist. They'd crow on how they did the perfect job, boasting as always about their 'brilliant' inventions being the reason for Taph’s demolitionist team’s success. Which, yeah, they may have made the Subspace, which made work way more easy, but Taph wasn’t going to say it to their face.
The workplace was a bit more quiet ever since they left, although Taph thinks they saw them on some show or whatever... what was it called again?
Well, at least they were living a good life. Taph on the other hand...
"See, you're supposed to get the crystal into that real shiny container of yours... an' then ya- hey, are you even listening?"
Right, that guy was still talking. Quite a yapper, that one.
In fact, Taph would rather go down there rather than listen to that guy blabber for another half hour.
...
The guard was left with dead silence.
"Wait, where'd they go?!"
The only response was a submarine going down, inky water splashing as it submerged.
"Oh no, they don't even know how to operate the keycards yet..." the guard grumbled.
"Whatever, its none of my business. They're probably going to die anyways down there before they even step foot in there."
-
Oh, how right (or maybe wrong) that guard was.
And how clueless that little bird was, going into this mess alone.