Under the Floor...? (season 1 finale)

The Black Heart district was a mess of endless turning streets--they seemed to stretch on forever. right as the car rounded the second annoying set of corners and turns, when Ohma shifted. 

"You good Ohma?" Jishi spoke, but the goat simply shrugged responding softly that they had a lot on their mind. "Pfft, you sound just like Meursault. speaking of" Jishi felt the words roll around their head, an inquisitive tilt of the head and Jishi clicked their tongue. "Have you ever seen him without his eye...patch? blindfold? I heard he's got no eyes, least that's the rumor spreading round the Junkyard." Jishi chuckled, although it was obvious Ohma... wasn't listening. Yet Jishi continued undeterred: "Ya know... uh. Speaking of rumors, apparently there's a guy in the mayor's employee who's like unable to use magic again just a rumor, but hell if that's true I wonder how he'd react being struck by a combat Gearika...?" Jishi chuckled, tamping their cigarette out, the embers scattering, before fading like small fragments of a long forgotten dream. "Like, would it short circuit? would he take double damage? or... like no damage? that's what I wanna know."  lighting another cigarette and shoving it hastily, sloppily in their mouth, Jishi's rambles continued: they went on and on about whatever they could think of, it just spewed out of them... although laden with expletives and smoke addled exhales. it was right after the third set of winding turns, and corners when Jishi sighed:
"Ohma...? if its about your pops, ya can talk to me." Jishi's voice had dropped, sweetened by nicotine yet constricted by smoke, Ohma shook his head, and lurched forward in his seat, like a restless child on a long car ride. 
"We should have at least given that star scourge last rites" Ohma said suddenly. "I...it had dreams." 
"Ohma! it was a fucking shell! if the Star Scourge it came from was dead you know as well as I do, it would've vanished! probably just a molt." an exhale and smoke enveloped the van's cabin yet again, and with a few small movements, the embers fluttered like the wisps of a lingering soul.  "'sides, its just a star scourge we don't really owe those monsters kindness." 

"Don't owe them Kindness!? w...What!! they used to be people! like you and me!? what if your grandma despaired!? or... if!" Ohma squirmed, writhing--the seat quickly became a prison, he kicked his legs, and swung around his head; hoping to put his horns to at least some use. 

"Ohma! firstly! calm down before your hurt yourself. I ain't about to be the one to tell Lavender you hurt yourself because we got into an argument. She'd kick my ass to next year!!" Jishi was a chuckling mess, pushing up their glasses and lighting a new cigarette, they watched the black heart district loop as the corners got tighter, and tighter.  "and secondly: you must understand in life there is always a give and take, Star Scourge are monsters who hunt, and kill..." another smokescreen, this one smelt like roses, and it burnt Ohma's eyes. 
"Doesn't mean we can't at least show a small kindness, and let them rest...?" 
The van was idle now, and the two locked eyes, Ohma's puffy cheeks and reddish tear stricken eyes, though his tears weren't summoned from his heart but stirred by Jishi's vices, tears aren't shed without reason. Ohma    The sputtering yet determined purrs of the van's engine had gone quiet now, dying down into the ambience of the black heart district.   
"Ohma... you get where i'm coming from right? If what Lavender told me is true...you're....you're practically guaranteed to become on--" Ohma erupted with animation, flapping his arms about, shifting his expression here and there... when his emotions died down he simply croaked out a simple question: 

"Then why don't you care about them?" Ohma was crying now and it didn't matter if Jishi's vice was the cause of his tears or not, they could hear it in his voice. the choking, hitching breaths, the sloppy, fumbling syllables.   
 "They had dreams, lives! I.... my father had dreams... and I abandoned him!" 

"Ohma! you... you were a child! in a fucking warzone!! there was literally nothing you could've done!" 

"That....That's not what I mean and you know it." Ohma sneered. "His dreams. Jishi haven't you been listening?" 

"Ohma... look at us! we're just two dumbasses fumbling our way through life. Hell! we're supposed to be the defense corp of Magnamalia! yet look at us Ohma! FUCKING LOOK AT US!!! we're goddamn repairmen with extra steps!" Jishi slid their paw across the yawning abyss that was the aisle between the seats, a friendly gesture. yet Ohma retreated, leaving Jishi's fist bump unanswered. The yawning abyss got wider. Jishi sighed, their hand slithered back to where it came, and they nervously returned to the wheel. silently watching Ohma hide, and fold into himself. Ohma must've thought the more layers of clothing he put between himself and his coworker, the problem would also disappear.    

"Look, I get it... dreams are important but... this fanatic zeal you have for them will get you hurt. all I want is for you to at least have some perspective. I ain't got much life experince but... perspective is game changing." they chuckled softly, yet Ohma didn't offer another word, and the conversation slowly died. when it fully passed,  Jishi turned opting to at least get to their job site, get done and go the hell home, slowly like a puppet on a string Jishi's head turned; there they saw a feint figure, one that crawled across the sweeping industrial graveyards that were the former homes of Black Heart; however, with just a shake of the head, a couple good blinks, the figure seemed to vanish, perhaps a feverous imagining  of a mind crying for slumber. 

"One more job, and you can go to bed Jishi..." under their breath the words creeped out in their cigarette smoke. The turn was never ending, a winding serpent soaked in ink, that stretched on into an endless pitch. Jishi sighed, and lit what they hoped would be their final cigarette of the night. The road straightened out, and soon surrounded on all sides by encroaching planks of rusted metal. syllabic symbols inscribed upon their faces--headstones to all the former lives of Black Heart. there was a certain section of headstones, a congregation of orange slabs that had long since lost their shape and text, they reacted almost instinctively, the Van roared to life at their command, revving and purring, the Van sped up. 

The home sat on a hill, not of grass and flowers, but of sun bleached scrap, ochre dirt and miles of decay, the only thing that was even daring enough to grow on this hill was a single ring of mushrooms. a small resilient colony, one that peeked out from underneath thicker sheets of scrap or outright grew through it. 

"Oi, Ohma... we made it, remember you're just here to hold the flashlight." Jishi joked, the van door popping open and tumbling to the ground, much to the Hyena's chagrin. "So help me..." waving their paw, their eyes said everything they wanted, though now they were intent to motion with their head for Ohma to get out of the van. it was almost as if fate had ordained it, the door came undone, tumbling into a pile of scrap and wires. 

"Don't worry about it... c'mon lets go." Jishi spoke, already fed up with this job before it had even begun. The door suddenly shot open, a mass of skittering claws, and panting praises chased through the decaying yard. there she stood, arms outstretched, ears twitching. yet... there was something about Jishi's grandmother: She Was Despaired. Her body divided into two hemispheres, one of fur and flesh, the other side rigid ebon scale, and chitinous plate, where a hand should've been there was only a pincer, a long river of flowing ebon sin that ended with a claw. the old woman raced forward, coiling her arms around her grandchild, Jishi squeaked, and wheezed; their grandmother's grip only getting stronger. letting out a gasp, for a moment Ohma swore he could see Jishi's soul leave their body. Grandmother smiled, dropping her grandchild, to which Jishi plummeted, landing face first on the decayed ground. her loving gaze was then turned on Ohma, who slowly backed away, shaking his head, attempting to get the hell out of woman's line of fire. 

"Grandma!" Jishi sputtered. "we're just here to fix your Gearika." 

"I Know dearie, can't an old lady give a lil' love?"
"Grandma... that sounds lovely but Ohma and I have a job to do." they spoke, putting emphasis through bared fangs on the word Job. the old woman nodded, leading the pair into her abode... 

a home that was battling against age, and senescence, and was proudly displaying its battle scars through is crumbling frame, creaking floors and boarded up walls--it was like the old woman and the house refused to let one another go. If one were to die, surely the other wouldn't be so long for this world. 

Something sank into Ohma's view like a lead weight amid an ocean, a small boarded open segment of wall, a job done so hastily the nails were crooked, standing proudly erect barely holding the board in place. Curisotity had come about him, and gingerly the lad reached out a hand, yet touching the board resulted only in the old woman slapping his hand away and telling him off. Ohma however stared at his hand, a small wound where he had touched the board. a single drop of blood rolled down his finger before fading into a cloud of black smoke--and for a moment he could've sworn that he heard a man in his mind, a voice, deep and baritone... yet it vanished as soon as it had come. was it a daydream? 

"Ohma...?" Jishi called. "You coming?" Ohma shook his head and brought himself back to reality. 

"Y...Yeah... sorry." 

down winding corridors and creaking doorways, there sat a large orange box, sparking and hissing smoke. it was here Jishi began to wish they hadn't given up the bottle. "Grandma..." they spoke solemnly. "You gotta call me before it gets this bad!" Ohma was not there at the moment, his mind wandering amid countless starry-eyed thoughts. even as Jishi snapped their fingers inches away from his face, Ohma wouldn't respond, he would blink, and breathe yet his glazed, glassy look would remain. "OHMA!" Jishi shouted, throwing down their tools and shaking the young goat. "Hey!! hey!!" a panic bloomed in their voice like the world's foulest smelling flower. suddenly Ohma or at least his body, took off, sprinting as fast as he could, and with all his gathered speed, smashed through the boarded up wall. 

The young goat tumbled, not into an old ancient room, but a long drop and a vacuous chamber. 

under the floor, under the home, under the city... Ohma's body moved against his will, pushing him down further. all the while his mind was assaulted with pulsing waves of pain that came and went with varying intensity. each wave capitalized by what sound---felt like a scream deep within his subconscious. 

It was farther up the way when Ohma collapsed, the pain was overwhelming now, and he heaved out a mouthful of blood. however, just like his father, the pain  meant nothing and he picked himself back up. 

That's when he saw it: a massive towering structure, one that pulsed with green light, hummed to the screeching tunes of wailing monitors and screens, each monitor connected to a chamber--each of them identical, filled with a glowing green liquid, and a floating body within. Ohma... recoiled, his body collapsing again, the sheer volume of pain, sorrow and anguish in the room came down upon him like a curse, his blood spilled across the ground once more. 

"H....He... elp" a faint voice whispered. "Ki....kill me....pl.......ea...se" 
Bleary eyes, bloodied mouth, Ohma rose, mustering whatever strength he could to wander towards the chamber before him. yet his body gave out, collapsing unto his knees he devolved into a fit of awful gags and wheezes. 
then a clap of thunder, his eyes went wide, and the pain set in immediatly. blood soaked through his shirt.... he had been shot. 
"Intruder Eliminated..." came an emotionless voice.. Ohma knew that voice, that awful playful voice. "Sorry kid.. You saw Garbhadhatu I can't let you leave... nothing personal." Mayor Macomb spoke softly, patting Ohma's shoulder. The red faced macaque, left his weapon, and left the haunting image of his smirk in Ohma's mind. 
rousing whatever strength was still buried deep within himself, Ohma screamed, throwing himself forward, he wailed and pounded on the glass of the tube, screaming apologies as each strike lost more and more power. soon his body slid down the tube's face and he crumpled, black smoke trailing off his body. 

within his mind, in those final moments, there was a man, a room swirling in fog,   a shadow in an upright form, piercing silver eyes, they held a small orb in their hands and a smirk drawn across their lips. leg bent across their knee, and body pressed against something or rather a nothing constrained into a concept of something for this figure to lean against. they gave a small low chuckle and pointed at Ohma with their eyes. "what are you willing to give up?" The shadow spoke with a voice of a thousand congealed prayers and silent sermons, voiceless intrusive thoughts and those small secrets nobody should ever know. Ohma couldn't give an answer yet the figure nodded anyways. and even gave a little shocked surprise. "Ah... really. That? You really are his son..." The figure chuckled, and snapped their fingers. "Pleasure doing business with you Ohma Bucks..."